Chapter 11: The Enemy You Thought You Knew
Neville Longbottom apparated to the nearest entrance to the Ministry of Magic and went through the security gate as quickly as possible. He was met with a familiar sight. A motivation rally gone wrong. Almost three years ago the Minister of Magic had started a new campaign throughout the entire Wizarding World-it was simply called "We are the Ministry, We Are Proud." With the war escalating daily and people living in constant fear Tyson knew that the greatest defense against someone like Voldemort was hope. Strength in their combined unity would see them through.
Fliers had been sent out containing all of the victories that the Aurors had accomplished. Weekly talks on the Wireless to keep people informed and prevent panic. But the most important addition- and the most popular- were the pride parades. Hundreds of Ministry workers and their families would turn out to support their freestanding government and stand strong against Voldemort. They would march, yell, play music, even dance. The first one had taken place just before Neville's seventh year and he remembered it as being one of the first times since the return of Voldemort when he had felt truly confident that things would be alright after all. That the Ministry would win…even without Harry.
Unfortunately, in the past year Voldemort had turned the campaign against them. Using masked Death Eaters and the Imperious Curse he created his own parade- of terror. As of yet the Death Eaters had not been effective enough to cause a real threat. They had attacked three parades and in all of them there had not been a single fatality. The recruits that were working for the Dark Lord were not strong duelists and broke easily against a counterassault. Ron had once commented that the parade attacks were the easiest way to capture new Death Eaters for Azkaban. It had been a rather cold statement but one that Neville had privately agreed with.
However, as Neville took in the sight in front of him he immediately saw that things were very different than the past attacks. There were very few recruits present and instead the seasoned fighters that had not made an appearance in quite some time had shown up in mass. Worse still they were clearly using the Imperious Curse on innocent victims and causing them to attack Aurors or even other bystanders creating mass chaos.
"Stupify!" Neville shouted only to have the spell meet a perfectly reflected shield. Auror quality. He observed vaguely. The fight was growing intense. Green bursts of light were echoing from all directions and Neville's breath caught in this throat as he saw bodies collapse to the ground as though its strings had been cut. He had not been in a battle in which the Death Eaters had blatantly aimed not to kill in a very long time. It had been something he questioned, why the 'Dark Lord' seemed to be so reluctant to use lethal force but Dumbledore had felt that for the moment Voldemort's goals had been more intricate. While he built his base he was trying to destroy their enemy but instead was seeking to intimidate them and convince people that Voldemort had more followers than he did. He wanted it to appear that all Purebloods and Half-Bloods supported him.
This was different. The fight had escalated quickly and soon Order members and Aurors alike were firing off cutting curses and blasting spells in all directions. Forced into defending themselves with equal fervor and violence. The room was covered in a dusty smoke from collapsed walls and statues, Neville's feet tripped slightly over the fallen bodies that were now littering the ground. He could hear shouts around him- Ginny, Fred and George screaming out into the night, only their fiery red hair visible through the fog of battle.
Ron and Hermione could be seen fighting back to back, moving around each other in an almost fluid dance as they battled five Death Eaters between the two of them. Neville blinked in surprise, he had not seen the two of them fight together in a long time and had he been asked he would have been forced to confess that he did not think that they were particularly strong duelists. Or at the very least not well practiced as a team but there they stood, strongly united as their wands slashed brutally through the air, their feet moving deftly to avoid any curses.
A sharp pain cut through his left arm and Neville cursed himself for his moment of distraction as he ducked low to see the damage. Not too bad, he had been turning at the time, so the spell had just glanced off his upper arm. He was bleeding, but not badly. And his wand arm was still good.
It was a long fight. He could not remember seeing attacks this vicious and Neville knew in that moment that Harry had been telling the truth in regards to the Death Eaters lulling them into a false sense of security, he had not been remotely prepared for such savage barbarism. Kinsley Shacklebolt fell trying to protect Tonks and the family of four that she was struggling to defend. Emmeline Vance was lying deathly still in a pool of her own pool. Moody was screaming with nearly hysteric mania as he cut down three and four opponents at a time, the ground around him wet and sticky. Neville thought that he would go to his grave hearing the cries of the seven year old that had watched their mother bleed to death in front of her eyes. He would have nightmares of the look in the young father's eyes that had been tortured in front of his family just to protect them from the same fate for as long as possible.
Remus was fighting Dolohov but didn't seem to be faring well. One of the older Order members had mentioned coldly but with blunt casualness that of the Marauder Group that had joined the Order to have Remus as their only surviving member would not have been their first choice. "Good enough I suppose, and better than some- Pettigrew in particular. But Potter and Black in their prime were something else. Few people could fight against the two of them together in a battle." The Order was falling under the superior ability of the Death Eaters.
But of course none of that mattered when Albus Dumbledore was there. Magnificent in lavender robes and a sight for all to behold as he made the very building itself fight against the attackers.
He staggered under another cutting hex but thankfully another curse brought the man down before he could strike again. "It's ending," George panted next to him. "You alright mate? That cut looks nasty."
"It's alright," Neville said through his gritted teeth.
"That was... a bit more than I expected, really upped their game recently haven't they?" George wondered speculatively.
Neville nodded. "They certainly seemed prepared. Is Fred alright? Where did he go?"
George nodded, "he got hit in the leg, Tonks is fixing him up, and you know that Tonks takes forever with Healing charms so it'll be awhile. Have you seen Charlie? I lost track of him but last I saw he was really in the thick of it."
Neville shook his head, looking around as best as he could for Charlie's shoulder-length hair, his broad stature that normally dominated any room he was in. "Sorry," he coughed out, sliding down a wall when he realized that he was too tired to walk much further.
"Easy mate, I think you lost a bit more blood than you realized there," George said sympathetically, running his wand over the injury and conjuring bandages to staunch what he could while they waited for the Healers that were just now arriving to deal with the more serious injuries first.
"Oh look who it is, just in time as usual. Our esteemed Minister of Magic," George muttered quietly.
The twins were a few of the only people that Neville knew that had not been thrilled with the decisions the government had been making the last few years. Tyson had come into office just after Neville had started his Sixth Year. After a year of Fudge's incompetency the Wizarding World had needed a strong and decisive leader- they had found that in Ivan Tyson. A rather small man but with a loud personality, at first glance Ivan Tyson was not what most people considered to be their idea of a powerful leader. Instead he had this approachable likability that the people fell in love with. He had made swift and grand changes as soon as he had come into office and had been met with surprising approval from many different political groups. Most witches and wizards agreed that it was his skills as a leader that had saved them from falling under the Voldemort's regime. Neville found in him a somewhat kindred spirit, a man that was not expected for greatness but tried to do right by the people.
Tyson was shaking hands with many of injured civilians. Comforting families and friends of people that had either been hurt by the Death Eaters or enchanted to work for them. He was calm, he was understanding and Neville felt himself relax as the higher authority came to ease the latest burden from him.
"You never were a fan of Tyson, were you?" Neville asked with curiosity. "I've always kind of wondered what you and Fred had against him but…" he shrugged, "it never really seemed that important before. I liked him, he's always done a good job. But the two of you never seemed to like him, why is that?"
George was still looking at Tyson, who was listening to one of his top Aurors brief him on some of the events of the attack before speaking. "No we don't like him. It's not anything that he did... or that he didn't do. Honestly, we've always liked him more than Fudge but…" George frowned as though trying to decide how best to phrase his thoughts. "There was just always something that seemed…off about him. Does that make sense? Like he was trying too hard to give us this perfect image of himself because he didn't want us to look for the real image."
"No one is perfect though," Neville pointed out fairly.
"True," George conceded, "but he also has this way of making things about himself. 'We are the Ministry, We are Proud,' it's a good thought, don't get me wrong- except that Tyson always meant that HE is the Ministry and I always got the impression that he wanted everyone to be proud of him."
Neville was quiet for a moment, letting the thought sink in. Neville knew that his greatest problem was the fact that deep down he was a follower- not of You-Know-Who, but of powerful wizards that he convinced himself that he could trust. Harry had been the first one. Even at age eleven Neville had looked up to the boy. The Boy-Who-Lived, a legend even before Neville had met him, sharing a dorm and sleeping two beds away from a boy that he had heard stories about his whole life had been a surreal experience for him. But more than that was that Harry had always lived up to his mystic. It had been Harry that had defended Neville even as a First Year. Harry that helped him in Defense and encouraged him to do better, that had believed that he was capable of doing better. Harry was a day younger than Neville and yet had seemed as though he was much older. A protector. And then Neville had looked up to Dumbledore- the powerful Headmaster that had always seemed to have the answers. And then Tyson- except slowly but surely most of his ideas about these people had been stripped away. Should he continue to trust Tyson, or was the man all smoke and mirrors? If he saw through the mirage would it because of the right reasons or only because Harry and the twins had pointed it out to him.
Neville asked his most pressing concern to the uncharacteristically serious George. "What do you think about what Harry told us? Do you really think that Voldemort is planning a massive breakout at Azkaban and that Harry is just handing over that information out of the goodness of his heart?"
"No way in hell!" Ginny interrupted them with her own answer as she came up behind them with Ron and Hermione in tow. "I trusted Harry once and it was the biggest mistake of my life- never again."
"Harry might have betrayed us once but that doesn't mean that he's lying now," Hermione pointed out.
Ron bobbed his head slightly from side to side as though trying to decide which side he wanted to land on, "it sounded like the truth. It was an awful lot to make up. And I don't doubt for a minute that if Lucius Malfoy was planning to escape than Draco would be in on it. I've haven't trusted that ferret since Day One."
"We know," Ginny snapped. "But honestly Ron can't you let this ridiculous rivalry you have with Draco go? He has proven to us over and over again that he's on our side. Dumbledore trusts him. I trust him."
"You're in love with him, there's a difference. You trust Malfoy because he broke down and supposedly told you all his deep dark secrets, that doesn't mean that he doesn't have more," Ron argued.
"At least he was open and honest with me, unlike Harry. He never told us what the Dursleys were doing. He hid it all away until it destroyed him. Harry wasn't strong enough to let anyone in- Draco is different. He cares about people- about me Ron."
"Harry not tell you about the Dursleys doesn't make him weak Gin. You seem to forget all the time that Harry was never with you. You were the one that kept claiming that you were in love with him, not the other way around. He never owed you an explanation on his life!" Ron shouted, typical temper flaring.
Ginny's face turned a deep tomato red and she looked ready to curse Ron into oblivion. "He never told you either! He claimed that he was your best friend, why did he need to keep so many secrets?"
"I think the better question to that Gin," Fred said, his voice unusually grim as he finally limped over to where they were, grimacing slightly in pain. "Is why he ever had to explain to us in the first place. We all knew that those muggles were no good. Mum and Dad would talk about it all the time. Hell, the three of us had to pry bars of his windows," he gestured to his twin and Ron. "We knew, we didn't do a damn thing. I personally I'm tired of having this damn fight with you over and over again." Ginny scowled but unlike with Ron she had a harder time fighting with the twins. She had idolized the pranksters as a child and disliked going against their unconventional thoughts on most things. It occurred to Neville that he had rarely if ever heard them discuss Harry before and he could only assume that the Weasleys had established some sort of moratorium on 'Potter talk' at some point in the past.
"What do you two think about Harry? I've never heard you say," Neville asked George again, waiting to hear his opinion. Neville had never been particularly close to either of the twins but he had never known them to be quiet on any subject in the past, he wasn't sure why it had never occurred to him to wonder why the two of them had never been keen to speak about Harry before now.
The two of them glanced at one another before shrugging slightly. However, instead of answering, George let out a slow breath before he seemingly changed the subject, "did Fred or I ever tell you how we got to money to open our shop?"
Neville blinked at the change in topic, "er…no, I always thought that you made enough money from the products that you sold at Hogwarts to open it."
George laughed at that, "you've been giving us a bit too much credit. Cost us a lot of money to develop some of those original products. Then there was the money for the actual premises, advertising- if we had had to go off our own money alone we still wouldn't have enough for our shop. No, Harry gave us all of his Tri-Wizard winnings."
"He gave it ALL to you?" Neville asked in surprise. "Why?"
"He tried to give it to the Diggory's first," Hermione added in quietly. "He thought it was rightfully Cedric's but his parents wouldn't take it. I don't think that he could bare to look at that money."
Ron frowned, "which is something I've never really understood. Harry gives away all those galleons because he thinks of it as blood money, but a year later he's willing to kill for Voldemort himself? I just…don't know how he changed so much." The redhead shook his head but seemed to have no answers for himself.
"Unless giving away the money was only a ploy…" Ginny said thoughtfully.
"Ginny," Fred said warningly, "we've been over before. You can't take everything that Harry has ever done and turn it against him!"
"What? Harry had to have joined You-Know-Who sometime, and no one was there in the graveyard with him. It's the thing that makes the most sense, doesn't it? Remember how Harry used to avoid talking about it? He never wanted to tell us what happened, until all of the sudden he's giving this whole article to Quibbler- probably after he and You-Know-Who probably worked out a story."
Hermione shook his head, "that was my idea Ginny. Harry didn't even know about it until I surprised him with that day. He couldn't have planned for me to show up with Rita Skeeter."
"But you agree that he never wanted to talk about it until after he had time to figure out what to say?"
Ron and Hermione both exchanged glances, as though that theory was as good as any explanation that they had come up with.
"I don't know," George said carefully. "I remember the day that Harry gave that money- the look on his face. It was…I can't really describe it to you. But whenever I think about what Harry did that day at Privet Drive, I think about his face the day he gave me and Fred that money, and I can't believe it was the same person."
"You mean that you've really thought that Harry was innocent this whole time?" Neville asked.
George shook his head, "I'm saying that I've never really been entirely convinced."
"There was a trial," Neville argued, frowning slightly.
Fred nodded, "right and we all saw the evidence and I admit that the case was pretty airtight. They tested for the Imperious Curse on sight and there was none, they never needed to test for Polyjuice Potion because they had him locked up the whole time and the potion would have worn off eventually, if it had been used. He had the Dark Mark. Lucius Malfoy supposedly collaborated the story of Harry joining up with You-Know-Who, but then as far I'm concerned anything he says is a lie anyway. But what they never did was let Harry tell his whole side of the story. I'm not talking about answering questions-" George said quickly when it looked as though Ron was about to object, "I mean really let him talk and explain what happened from the beginning."
"How could he possibly have explained all of that?" Hermione asked skeptically. "I've been thinking about it for years, I've wanted Harry to be innocent but...I just don't see how he possibly could be."
"And without getting his side, we wouldn't know, would we?" Fred asked pointedly.
"What do you think about what Harry was saying about Tyson, do you still trust him?" Ron asked turning to Hermione.
"I wouldn't have believed that Tyson was torturing prisoners if Daniel hadn't have backed him up. It's…barbaric."
There was a moment of thought as four of them considered what the Minister's actions would mean for them all. "Even if it's true, what can we do about it though?" Ron asked. "Tyson is incredibly popular and one of the cornerstones of his office was better preparation for Aurors. No one will want this program to stop."
There was no answer to this and once again Neville was reminded that very often he was simply shuffled between the powerful forces governing the Wizarding World. Speaking of powerful forces...Dumbledore was signaling them over and he didn't look particularly happy.
HPHPHPHP
Meanwhile...back at Grimmauld Place
The Order had evacuated as quickly as possible, leaving Harry and Draco alone. Harry took a moment to evaluate his feelings on the matter. He needed the Order to win but where he once would have been nervous, worried to the point of physical pain, about their safe return now he felt only cold pragmatism for the need for victory. Once he would have been longing to fight alongside the others, angered at being made helpless in the fight but now he only felt a spike of annoyance that they had missed years of his help because of their own refusal to look more closely at his case. When he had been fifteen it had been Harry's most ardent desire to help the Order but they had rejected that help out of hand and had been suffering the consequences whether they were even aware of it or not.
His scar was burning more fiercely than it had in a long time but he was not getting any clear visions or even vague feelings as to what was happening. Was it simply an effect of being outside of the magic- suppressing walls of Azkaban? The fortress was so seeped with misery and pain that wizards were significantly weaker inside its walls than anywhere else. It had proven to be one of the largest problems with having the Training Program stationed there, the fact that the young recruits were forced to struggle against the enduring pain that the Dementors left in their wake. However, Harry didn't think the freedom from Azkaban alone was the cause of this particularly intense connection. No, Voldemort was feeling...something...intensely. Though whether that feeling was triumph, disappointment, anger or even glee was impossible to know and Harry could only hope that the results were in his favor. Though to be honest it was hard to overtly root for the Order's victory after the reception he had received that morning.
For the moment Harry decided to focus on the savage pleasure of blaming Ivan Tyson for this attack. Tyson and his narcissistic need for attention and his utterly predictable ways in which he obtained it. Harry knew well enough that he was biased when it came to the man, that his judgement was compromised and that he was incapable of making it otherwise. However, that did not change the fact that well before he had learned the extent of Tyson's duplicity and corruption, he had known that the man had loved the spotlight. Loved power. To him the war was not a terrible curse on the people of his government or even a cause for real fear because to him the war was a means in which he would control the public.
He had heard rumors of Tyson's large community morale boosters- Maggie had mentioned it to him once, back when she had still thought the world of the man. Supposedly they had been extremely effective, not only were they known to be a great time for people and families to spend time together but it was known as a solid strike against Voldemort's greatest weapon…fear.
Personally, Harry hadn't known much about Tyson until the day that Maggie had come to say goodbye to him forever. He had no access to a newspaper, no way of talking to anyone in the outside world. His major source of information came from other inmates, who were not only unreliable but morally bankrupt and therefore did not provide him dependable opinions. Still it had been hard to ignore- or especially forgive- the fact that this man was the reason that the Aurors had been allowed, and compelled, to torture him on a daily basis.
It had been hard to ignore that from what little he had learned he had felt that Tyson had liked to talk more than act. He gave lovely speeches and he was known to be seen with the right people at the right times but even aside from the obvious, there had been something about the man that Harry simply did not like. Something that was inherently untrustworthy. He hadn't been sure what it was except for the fact that he had seemed too smooth, too polished but mostly…it was the fact that he was so universally popular. Harry had learned the hard way how fickle the Wizarding world could be, and for no reason at all. The Wizarding World had been quick to hail him as a hero and quicker to condemn him as a criminal but Tyson had seemed to gain their unswerving loyalty and to Harry the obvious question seemed to be- 'how?'
Harry was pulled from his internal musings by Draco's drawling voice. "They are never going to believe you," he stated baldly.
The matter-of-factness of it hurt Harry worse than a taunt. He knew that Draco was more than likely right- they would never trust him again. Not really. Then again he also knew that Draco's lies had a limited shelf-life. "Maybe not, but they won't trust you forever," he answered as neutrally as possible. Draco was determined to get a rise out of him and he refused to give his rival the satisfaction. Harry had had far too much experience with being taunted and humiliated over the past few years to let Draco Malfoy of all people get to him.
Draco smiled, "admit it Potter- you lost. The entire Wizarding World believes that you're a Death Eater and your best friends trust me now."
Harry looked up at Draco and slowly a smiled curved onto his face as he realized just what the other man truly wanted out of his little charade he was pulling on the Order. Draco bowing the Voldemort because he had been too scared to carve out his own path in the world had never particularly surprised him. He had always known the other boy to be weak willed and a coward but to see that his true motivations were even pettier was delightful to hear.
"Oh, so that' it, is it? You finally get to be me? Well congratulations, I know that's what you've always wanted. Tell me, when you essentially take over someone's life, are you still jealous of them or do you actually think you have something of your own now?"
Draco sneered, his temper flaring in spite of himself and Harry braced himself to remain calm, knowing that would be the thing that would drive the other boy to madness. He wanted Harry to hurt, perhaps to feel all of the pain that Draco had felt all those years for coming in second best, being constantly considered to be and to feel inadequate in comparison to Harry. Draco was desperate to prove that after all this time he was finally the one on top and the former Slytherin would not be satisfied until he made Harry acknowledge that he had lost.
But Draco had never experienced true anguish and in that moment Harry knew that if the other boy ever did, it would break him. He never would have survived as Harry had done, lived what Harry had been forced to live through and not only for the past four years. Draco would not have survived the Dursleys. Or the true pressures of the Wizarding World as they had been forced onto Harry's shoulders time and time again. Draco would not have survived the people he considered closest to him turning their backs on him and finding the will to find others to trust and love. Harry knew anguish and for the first time he felt a quiet but grim pride that he had survived. But in that moment he also decided tha Draco didn't get to see that pain, or the will that it took to overcome it, that was his and he wasn't sharing.
Draco, unaware of this startling epiphany sneered in anger, "Jealous? Of you? What could you possibly have that I want…now?" he asked mockingly.
He wasn't prepared for Harry to actually have an answer, "Not much, but at least I know that I have the truth."
Draco's eyes narrowed and his cheeks colored slightly, "and why the hell should I care about that?"
Harry smirked at him, he buried all of his pain, years of isolation and loss, hours of glares from people he had once considered family, and concentrated on inflicting pain for once. Relishing in the fact that Draco was still insecure, still the same jealous little boy that he had met when they were both eleven. "You must be really proud of yourself, getting Ginny to fall for you, although my guess is that you never expected to fall for her as well."
"I never said-"
"You didn't have to," Harry interrupted firmly. "I saw the way that she looks at you and I, more than most people, have seen that look from Ginny before, I know what it means. But I also saw the way that you look at her- you care about her. I don't think that was part of your plan though, was it? You needed someone in the Order that was going to go to bat for you because even if were the one to 'save' Snape...everyone knows you for the sneaky little ferret that you truly are. So you used her...but then you've never had anyone that actually cares about you before. And for all of Ginny's faults, she is beautiful and with all that passion and anger I bet she's just about dynamite in bed so I really can't blame you.
"But what do you think is going to happen when she finds out what you really are? Because she will find out. Face it, Draco…you never really that good. When have you ever won against me?" he finished softly, his eyes sparkling with a determined jeer.
Draco's face was flushed with pink and Harry stretched his smirk just a bit further, he didn't even have to fake it, he was actually quite enjoying himself at the moment.
"I would say that I've won against you every day for the past four years Potter!"
Harry shook his head, still maintaining that infuriating calm that was driving Malfoy to distraction. "You have benefited from other people's victories, there's a difference. Voldemort beat me, your father beat me, even my worthless muggle relatives beat me, but you? What have you ever really done besides running to a bunch of sympathetic fools and crying about how your daddy forced you into being a giant git for most of your life? Let me ask you, do you think Voldemort has really been impressed with the scrapes of information that you've been giving him? He's not a forgiving man Draco, and he expects a lot. I'm only asking because if I were you, I'd be wondering right about now who will kill me first. The Order or Voldemort? What do you think, because personally my money is on Voldemort but if Lupin or Moody find another traitor…"
"Shut up Potter! You don't have fucking clue about any of this!"
Harry shrugged, seemingly without a care in the world, "Maybe you're right, I've been gone a long time, maybe you've changed. But tell me this much…how does it feel when you're lying with Ginny after she thinks the two of you have just 'made love' and she whispers in your ear about what a good man you are? Does she tell you that she's proud of you? Proud of the man you've become? And what's it really like to know that all you've really been doing all this time… is pretending to be me?"
Draco backhanded Harry strongly across the face, taking every ounce of fury that he could muster into one violent swing. Harry rather thought that his jaw might be broken but he blinked away any tears that threatened, choked down any cry of pain and calmly turned his face back towards the Death Eater, lifting his eyebrow in silent affirmation of his questions.
He moved his jaw experimentally and was gratified to see that it still seemed to be working. He spoke again, this time more quietly, his words actually sincere. "Let me tell you something Draco…no matter what the sappy sayings might lead you to believe- losing the people that you love is a thousand times more painful than never having them in the first place, I should know." Harry grimaced as he remembered the days before Hogwarts when he had had absolutely no one in his life to turn to. No one to trust, no one to love him or even provide him with a simple kindness. And then he made what he had thought were the best friends and surrogate family he could ask for...only to lose every last one of them.
He let out a slow breath before he allowed that pain to resurface. "One day, probably a lot sooner than you think, Ginny is going to find out that everything about you is a lie. You're a fake Malfoy, you always have been- and she will hate you for it."
Draco raised his wand and Harry thought that he was going to be cursed but Malfoy seemed to reign in his temper for the moment. "You've missed a lot, Potter," Draco seemed desperate to sound calm and intimidating but his voice was shaking slightly and Harry knew that he was trying to convince himself of these words even more than Harry, "I'm no longer your second fiddle. The Order trusts me, the Dark Lord depends on me and my father respects me- I have everything that I have ever wanted and I will not lose it. Especially not Ginny. If you think that I'm going to let you of all people take away everything that I have built, you really are insane. The Order hates you, Ginny despises you and your ex-little-sidekicks? They pity you…"
Harry looked stoically into his enemies face, determined to reveal nothing and slightly surprised that he was succeeding as well as he was. "You're not telling me anything I don't already know, but you're right about one thing…I've already lost. I have nothing left Draco, so what could you possibly do to me now? You? You have built everything you have on a crumbling tower of lies and no one is going to enjoy watching it fall apart more than me."
"We'll see Potter…as for now? I'm going to go leave a report to my master, for after he returns from his victory, he'll want to know all about the interesting intel that you so generously gave us. And the Order? They all think I'm guarding a dangerous murderer. Irony Potter…got to love it."
HPHPHP
Draco had left to snitch to his master but Harry found that instead of being upset with the hypocrisy of the situation he was glad to see the little ferret leave. He was almost completely alone in the house now and the silence was liberating. Azkaban was never quiet. Bellowed curses, tortured cries, insane screams- the constant noise was draining. Harry had learned that the small little man that had watched the kids before the meeting was Daedalus Diggle, and it was true that he was not much of a fighter. The man had remained behind to mind the children but everyone else was blissfully gone.
Harry walked slowly through the house, relishing this momentary freedom. While the worst things about Azkaban were easy enough to identity, it was often the smaller infringements on his freedom that seemed to weigh unexpectedly on his soul. Like the fact that he was always being watched; he could never be alone or even to walk around when he wanted. In Azkaban he could never see so much as see the sun, he was unable to stretch his legs properly or even read a book.
With this in mind Harry eventually made his way to the a room that must have been the Library but Harry had been attracted as much by the large windows letting in the sun as he was by the rows of books. He took down a book on Wizarding traditions and customs with something like reverence. It was strange really; he had never been a big reader before. It had always seemed like a chore or an obligation, now it felt like a rare privilege. Perhaps it was Felix's influence, who had loved books and inspired in Harry a pure love of learning that none of his other professors or even Hermione had managed to nourish with the same passion. Perhaps it was simply that things that are forbidden to us are always more desirable. Whatever the reason, Harry was excited by the opportunity to finally read a book on his own.
He lost himself in the volume quickly, which is to say that he quite literally lost himself. He fell into one of his fixed states. Unable to focus on the world around him or even his own thoughts. He had lapsed into a black hole in his mind.
"Harry! Harry! HARRY!" a high pitched voice shrieked in his ear and Harry snapped back to the present with a jolt. Auggie was grinning at him, "were you asleep Harry? Your eyes were open but you didn't see me or answer me."
"ER…I think I was Auggie," Harry answered shakily. Loss of time was not a new sensation for him, nor was waking from that fugue-like dream state to the realization that he had no conception of what had been going on around him, but it was always a disquieting feeling. Never sure how much time had passed or what had happened. Never quite sure if the next time he might not wake from it at all. Harry struggled to pull himself together in front of the small boy, determined to not scare him. "Do you know what time it is?"
"It's past lunch time but everyone is still gone. I think Teddy was getting worried before Mr. Diggle told us both to take a nap. Mr. Diggle always forgets that I'm not a baby- I don't take naps anymore so I wanted to make sure that everything was alright. For Teddy I mean…when he wakes up."
"Oh Teddy was worried was he?" Harry asked, knowing that the small boy was too young for such concerns. He might miss his mother but he had no real conception of where she had gone or the type of danger that she might be in, no reason not to believe that she would always come back to him. Auggie was different though. It was true, Auggie wasn't a 'baby' and as such needed even more reassurance at times like this.
"Well little kids gets ascared sometimes," Auggie answered with his a shrug, his eyes downcast to avoid looking at Harry in the face.
Harry nodded, "It's a good thing that Teddy has you to remind him that sometimes things take time and that everyone is just fine."
Auggie bit his lip and looked up at Harry with wide, round eyes, full of trust. "You sure?"
Harry paused, it had been a long time since someone had looked at him with that kind of trust and he was determined not to lie. As a child he had been lied to constantly for 'his own good' and it had caused him nothing but pain. "Well Auggie we can't know what happened yet but we don't have a reason to worry yet either, do we? It seems silly to worry unless you have a reason to."
Auggie considered these words carefully, as if testing the theory for flaws. "What if they're all dead?" he asked.
Harry blinked, unused to the blunt observations of children. "I don't think so. The Order is big and powerful which means that it would take a lot to kill everyone. And if it's silly to worry about things we don't know will happen then I think it's stupid to worry about things that can't happen. Now," Harry added cutting off Auggie's next point, "since no one has come back yet with any bad news than my guess is that they don't have any news yet at all, so we just have to be patient, alright?"
Auggie nodded with a small smile gracing his lips, "I think you're right Harry, you're really smart."
Harry smiled back, "I just know how you feel. When you care about people you worry about them, but unless you want to worry all the time you need to save it for when it matters. It can be hard but you have to try and...trust that things will work out."
Auggie smiled and nodded. "Whatcha doing here Harry? Why didn't you go and fight too? Are you bad at it like Mr. Diggle?"
Harry chuckled at this question. "Not as bad as some people wish I was," Harry answered ruefully. "I'm not allowed to go."
"Why not?"
"Remember when I told you that I'm from Azkaban? Well when you go to prison there are a lot of things that you aren't allowed to do anymore, fighting with the Order is one of them. Speaking of the Order, aren't you supposed to be with Diggle right about now?" he asked pointedly.
Auggie flushed rather guiltily. "Diggle is really bor-ing," he explained sheepishly. "And he treats me like a baby all the time."
"Well that can get annoying," Harry sympathized, much to 6 year-old's delight.
"How did you get away?"
Auggie shrugged, "Mr. Diggle puts us in our room and then locks the door till after naptime but sometimes Kreacher will let me out if I ask him nicely. He hates all the grown-ups in the Order so unless Professor Dumbledore tells him to do something he always does what he wants."
Harry smiled a bit in amusement. "Kreacher is still here then?" He had been wondering about the old elf, who he had not yet come across. He was the best means of testing is little theory.
Auggie nodded, "Kreacher never leaves the house," he elaborated as though this were common knowledge, and perhaps to anyone that had been around for the past few years it was. After all, Harry recalled that the last time the house-elf had ventured away from Number 12 it was to conspire in Sirius' death. He doubted Dumbledore would allow something like that to happen again. Not that Sirius was helped by this new caution.
It had been Felix that had first brought up the subject of Sirius' will to Harry and the fact that he was more than likely his Heir. One day during on their many talks, Harry had been telling the man about his godfather's horrid family. He had spoken about the fact that Sirius had not had anyone- no family, barely any friends and certainly not any that had been good enough to give benefit of the doubt and demand a trial when Sirius had been arrested. But Sirius had meant to the world to Harry for the simple reason that he had been the only adult to ever truly love him- and then Harry had foolishly fallen for Voldemort's trap and had gotten the man killed.
It had been a rather self-pitying rant but Felix had grasped on to something important. Sirius was the sole Black Heir and the only person that he cared about in the world was Harry. Felix had believed that Harry had been named as the Black Heir but there had been no way to confirm that…until now. Felix had told him all about lines of succession and the passage of property in the Wizarding World. "Kreacher!" Harry called out experimentally, voice barely raised above talking level.
Instantly there was an abrupt pop and Kracher appeared, glaring hatefully at him. It was true then, the House was his and the Order had been foolish enough to 'imprison' him within its walls,
"New master has finally arrived to join his blood traitor friends. After they rob my poor Mistress of everything that she holds dear and force Kreacher to do their dirty bidding. Master abandoned Kreacher to mudbloods and muggle-lovers." Kreacher was almost exactly the same as Harry remembered him. Dirty, angry and mad, the elf was muttering in that peculiar way that always made Harry unsure if he was meant to be overheard or not.
"Hello Kreacher," Harry said evenly.
Auggie looked at Harry in wonder, "you're Kreacher's master? I thought that he didn't have one!"
"This house was my godfather's, he left it to me when he died."
"Ungrateful Master is taking from my noble Mistress! Kreacher is slave to mudbloods now!" He wailed piteously
"I'm not taking away anything Kreacher, you can talk to your Mistress any time you want." The worlds were spoken before Harry had time to think about them. He should hate Kreacher for what he had done to Sirius, but the truth was…he couldn't. Not anymore, not when he knew what it felt like to be under the thumb of another person, to be controlled by someone that you despised and worse still to be mistreated by an entity that you could not fight against. Someone or something that was stronger than you and beat you down just to mock you. Sirius had treated Kreacher terribly because he had hated the elf for reminding him of his terrible family and the pain they had caused him as a child.
Harry understood that and he didn't blame his godfather for it, not with all of the pain Sirius had been carrying around and the growing understanding that Sirius had been in need of mental help after Azkaban that everyone had ignored. Harry had had Maggie to help him but Sirius, even if he had his ability to transform into Padfoot, had stayed with Dementors surrounding his cell for 12 years, and the Order had locked him away in the very place that many of his nightmares had no doubt stemmed from. The fact that Sirius had taken out is depression and anger on the elf that had helped bring about so much misery was understandable if rather sad, but Harry could not support it.
"Filthy blood traitor master is lying to Kreacher," the elf muttered, starting to rock back and forth in increasing agitation.
Harry stayed calm, his voice was even and soothing, for some reason it seemed important to prove to Kreacher that he was not going to be another person in his life that hurt him. "I'm not lying to you Kreacher. You have the right to serve whoever you want. If you want to continue serving the Blacks you can do that, if you don't want to serve anyone…I'll set you free." The Order would be furious, allowing Kreacher free range with the knowledge of their secrets, but Harry found that he truly didn't give a damn what any of them thought. Dumbledore should have freed Kreacher from the start, before he had learned any of the Order's secrets. It had been Dumbledore that had insisted that Sirius and Kreacher remain together until it became impossible to get rid of Kreacher.
"Yous is tricking Kreacher, giving him clothes so that he can never come back and see his Mistress again. Kreacher is serving the Black family until he dies! Kreacher is a good and loyal house-elf! Master is taking Mistress' house from her!" Kreacher wailed hysterically.
"Kreacher please be quiet so that you can listen to me. I don't want to take make you unhappy. I don't understand why you care so deeply for the Blacks- they seem like terrible people to me." Harry only had the truth and no reason or desire to lie to the House-elf. He wouldn't use Kreacher as a slave but he didn't need the little conspirer that had taken Sirius from him to like him either. In truth if he had received Kreacher four years ago when Sirius had died he would have wanted to mount the elf's head on the wall with his other relatives. It was only years of torment that had given him sympathy for the elf, and it was limited.
Kreacher looked mutinous but Harry continued calmly, "But I know that they must have treated you well and I know that you care about them deeply. I don't want to force you into serving me against your will but I've never had a House-elf before, I don't know what to do or how any of this works. I think that you could help me though, would you do that?"
"House elves are a opposed to help wizards," Auggie added as though this were obvious. Harry blinked, he had been so caught with his own thoughts that he almost forgotten the boy was still in the room. It had been a problem that Maggie had once talked to him about during a therapy session, his difficult in keeping his mind on multiple things because it was hard enough to concentrate on one thing. He had been improving but then she had died. He needed to be more careful though, here in this house, with the Order around there were always multiple things to consider.
"Only if they want to help though," Harry said, forcing his attention onto the boy. "Everyone- people or elves-has the right to be happy. When an elf is serving a master that they love and respect they like what they are doing, am I right Kreacher?"
"Mistress and Master Regulus were fine, noble wizards. Wonderful examples of fine purebloods. Master Sirius was a naughty boy who broke Mistress' heart with his wild ideas. Bad boy, deserved to pay!" he added. Harry's fist clenched and it was only Auggie's innocent, trusting gaze that kept him from punching the elf for disparaging Sirius' memory.
"Sirius was the person I loved most in the world," Harry said quietly, his face serious and sincere. "I know that he and his mother…they didn't get on but Sirius was always kind to me. He looked out for me. I think that he was probably the only person in my life besides my parents that really loved me."
Augie was looking at Harry with wide eyes at this confession, part awe, part horrified fascination and suddenly Harry felt inexplicably embarrassed.
"I know that you hated Sirius and that Sirius hated your Mistress but…I don't think that means that you and I have to hate each other."
"Master is making Kreacher serve his blood traitor friends."
"You don't have to give them anything," Harry said forcefully. Suddenly he was enraged at the notion of the very people that had testified against him at his trial, that had sent him unjustly to Azkaban were now living in his house and ordering around his House-elf without his knowledge or consent. "I don't want anything Kreacher. You can clean or not clean, you can talk to your Mistress and you can ignore everyone else in this house but…if you hear something that you think I should know about, I would appreciate it if you told me. That's not really an order just a…request."
Kreacher was staring at him wide eyed and suddenly Harry was frighteningly reminded of Dobby.
"Master is letting Kreacher do as he pleases?" Kreacher asked carefully.
Harry nodded, "that's right, I want you to be happy Kreacher, which means making your own decisions. You can talk to your Mistress or you're always free to talk to me if you want, but you don't have to."
"What if Master is needing Kreacher's help?" the House-elf asked cagily, clearly testing the waters.
"I would appreciate your help Kreacher, I'm sure I could use it but I won't order you to do to it unless you decide that accepting orders makes you happy, but I don't want you to punish yourself anymore, not for any reason, is that alright?"
Kreacher burst into rather hysterical sobs at this point, clinging furiously to Harry's leg calling him 'Kind Master' again and again.
When Kreacher had finally quieted down Harry said quietly, "you can call me Harry."
"Yes Master Harry, Kreacher will make you very happy indeed sir," Kreacher said with more excitement that Harry had ever heard from the elf before he disapparated.
Auggie was looking at him with a thoughtful expression.
"You're nice to everyone, Harry."
"I don't know about that." Harry said with a bit of a frown. He was forcing himself to be polite to the Order but truth be told, just being in the same room with them set his teeth on edge. The fact that they hated him now was upsetting but Harry had resigned himself to that a long time ago- there was more than a few times over the past few years when he felt that the feeling might be mutual. However, it was the condescension that he really couldn't stand. The fact that they looked at him as if they were better than him, stronger than him because he had been weak enough to fall in line with Voldemort. Weak enough to let the Dursleys beat him down until there was nothing left. As though none of them would cracked under the same circumstances- personally Harry felt that many of them would have turned for a lot less.
And now it was clear that they felt that he should feel grateful towards them because they were granting him the favor of being out of Azkaban- even though he was only out because they needed his help. The only thing stopping him beating the closest one he could find to a pulp with his bare hands was the fact that despite everything, they actually were on the same side. Harry's main target was Voldemort. Destroying him at any cost, even if it meant making nice with the lesser of two evils.
Auggie shook his head and looked up with determined eyes, "You were nice to Kreacher and no one is ever nice to him. Sometimes Herm'ione tries to be but he doesn't like her, so she gives up. You kept being nice until he liked you."
"I think everyone should try to be as nice as they can, don't you?" Harry said carefully.
Auggie frowned, "I thought people in Azkaban are mean."
Harry let out a slow breath, trying to collect his thoughts and explain something that even he didn't understand to a small child. Harry had only known Auggie and Teddy for a few hours, it had only been that morning that they had come into his bedroom, but somehow it felt much longer. Regardless how much time it actually was, he was surprised to find that he already cared for them both quite a bit.
"Most people aren't all good or all bad, Auggie," Harry started, echoing back to what Maggie had told him when the two of them had first gotten together. "We're made up of all the things that we do. Now when we do something bad, we get punished for it and when you're a grown-up and do something really bad, you go to Azkaban. But just because you've done something bad in the past, it doesn't mean that you still can't do good or that you can't be a good person, do you understand?"
Auggie nodded slowly as though this concept was just beginning to take root until he thought of something else, "If you're good now, do they let you go home again?"
Harry winced, good behavior in Azkaban was not quite what it was in the muggle world. "Sometimes, that's a bit complicated. It's up to a lot of different people."
"Will they let you go home since you're good now?"
Harry shook his head, "I'm sentenced for life, Auggie. That means that I can never go home. After I'm done helping the Order they'll take me back to prison."
"But that's not fair!"
Harry inwardly agreed wholeheartedly. "Some other people don't think that it's fair to let someone whose done a bad thing go free because they're worried that they'll do it again."
"Would you do it again Harry? The bad thing that you did, would do it again?"
Harry sighed, faintly seeing the irony of the situation. Harry had been questioned relentlessly about his actions from the day of the arrest on. They had twisted his words, confusing him until even he wanted to second guess what he had done, or had wanted to do, that day. When they had failed to get a confession out of him by berating him, they had turned to potions, when potions failed they turned to torture, and when that failed they convicted him based on circumstantial evidence. They used him again and again in the Auror Training classes- he was Higgin's favorite because he was the only prisoner to continually stick to his story. The Aurors were convinced that he refused to break and that was partly true- it was just that he refused to lie.
Never once in four years had Harry said or even implied that he was guilty but now…for some reason it felt wrong to tell this young boy that the Ministry locked up innocent people. That his parents and their friends had turned their back on one of their own with very little evidence and put him in hell. It seemed wrong to destroy someone so trusting.
"Auggie…I told you that I couldn't really tell you about what happened or why I was arrested and I know that you don't think that that's fair. The thing is…it's very complicated and the Order doesn't understand it as much as they think that they do. Which is why I can't tell you, someday I will but…not right now. The important thing for you to know right now is that I don't want to hurt anyone, do you believe that?"
Auggie nodded, "I believe you Harry," He said solemnly. "But they still won't let you leave? Even though you won't do anything bad again?"
"They don't know that I won't and…they don't think that they can trust me."
"Do you miss your house and mum and dad?"
"I miss a lot of people Auggie, but I'm happy to be here, for now at least. Sometimes you have to be happy with being alright for a little while."
"I wish you never had to leave, you're the coolest grown up ever Harry."
"I wish that I never had to leave either but you never forget the people that you care about and that's why I'll always remember you."
They were interrupted by a piercing shriek and mad, cackling insults.
"That's Mrs. B, the Order must be back."
"Let go make sure everyone is safe then, shall we?" Harry said, leading Auggie out the door and towards the staircase, grateful to not have to explain anymore about himself to the small boy who seemed to idolize him so quickly.
A/N: Thanks everyone for the reviews. I was pleasantly surprised to see many people that don't like Remus as much as I do. It often seems in fanfiction that the man can do no wrong but I always saw him as an incredibly weak character that did whatever was easiest in the moment (i.e. failing to inform the Headmaster of a school of innocent children how a mass murderer was not only getting in and out of the Castle but also how he was hiding in plain sight, all because he didn't want the man to be 'disappointed in him'?)
Also in answer to a review because I think a lot of people were thinking along similar lines: someone mentioned that if Harry is the owner of Grimmauld Place, he should be able to just use the wards to kick everyone out. Harry is the master of the House but honestly I try as much as possible to go with canon descriptions of things and there was never any mention that wards that were capable of doing that regardless of what fanon leads us to believe. I cite the example of accidently showing Yaxley Grimmauld in DH and forcing Harry and Co to abandon the house for the rest of the book. If Harry couldn't expel Yaxley, then I really can't reconcile him booting out the entire Order. Instead, now that he has Kreacher's loyalty he will also get information from Kreacher. Kreacher cannot lie to him and after Harry's newfound kind treatment towards him, Kreacher will be motivated to help him 'House-elf style'- which again I see as more subtle than a lot of stories that show House-elves to basically be all powerful beings. There are a few advantages to Harry being the actual owner but more than anything this is another way in which the Order has used and discarded Harry when they longer have purpose for him and Harry recognizes that.
Next Up: Dumbledore's motives become clear and Remus is forced to owe one to Harry in a big way...
