…bolstered and protected…
Hermione wasn't sure how Mr Weasley had arranged this chance to see Harry, but she was grateful for the opportunity. It had shaken her badly to see Ron so upset over their friend's condition; normally he was very sanguine about other people's illnesses. With Harry in and out of the Hospital Wing at the drop of a broomstick, that trait had stood the redhead in good stead. Harry was prone to injuries on the Quidditch pitch, his nature did not allow him to hold back. Ron's very terrible distress had been a graphic indicator of how badly Harry was hurt.
Hermione and the rest of the Weasley family were waiting in a little room just to the side of the Great Hall, in fact it was the room the Champions had gathered in. Ginny was examining the mantelpiece while they waited and Mr and Mrs Weasley were pacing back and forth a little, arm in arm with slightly anxious expressions on their faces. Even the twins were unusually sombre, and Bill was sitting on one of the chairs, his foot tapping unconsciously.
Professor Snape had been waiting here for them, and had warned them that Harry was very fragile and lacking the strength to withstand a lot of fuss and bother. Anyone who upset or hurt him in any way would have the Headmaster to answer to first, and Snape second.
"And if you so much as think about casting Magic upon him, let alone any other kind of 'prank' you'll think that a week with the Dark Lord will be a rest cure when I'm through with you!" he'd threatened the twins, who'd gone faintly green and promised to behave. Even Mr and Mrs Weasley had been impressed with that warning. Hermione wondered whom he was trying to fool though, as they all knew he hated Harry. Perhaps he was trying to gain points with the Order now that he couldn't Spy for them any more, and appearing to care for Harry was one way to do that.
Harry was going to see them all for a little visit and then be interviewed by an Auror and the Minister of Magic in the presence of a reporter, the Headmaster and Professor Snape. Hermione had a feeling that the Weasley parents were going to try to be present too, which meant that Ron at the least would also be there. The Order had apparently been unable to staunch the Daily Prophet, and from what Mr Weasley had let slip, there had been some talk about taking the paper down permanently… one way or another.
There was a soft pop and Fawkes appeared, two figures clutching his tail feathers. The Phoenix let out a soft cry and they let go, letting it fly out of the way. Hermione had no time to watch where it went, too busy trying to recognise the face of her friend in the skeletal waif that stood bolstered and protected in Ron's arms.
"Harry!" she choked, breaking the shocked stillness of the room, and Harry turned his head towards her, his blinded eyes staring disconcertingly over her shoulder.
"Hello Hermione," he sounded much the same, his voice incongruously strong, emanating from such a devastated frame. He turned in Ron's arms hesitantly and put out his hands. It was all she could do to take them carefully, instead of sweeping him into the usual tight hug.
"You look… better," she struggled to come up with something that didn't sound completely stupid, and failed. Harry quirked a smile at her though, and he snickered too.
"Better than what?" he joked and Hermione squeezed his hands instead of replying. Mrs Weasley stepped forward then, and Hermione let go so the mother of seven could gather her adopted son into a careful embrace.
"How are you dear?" she asked quietly, her voice steady despite the pain written so clearly across her face. Harry's stick-like arms wrapped around her as Ron stepped back to let his mother have full access to their friend. A glance at his face showed he was not happy that Harry was here, and Hermione wondered how she could have missed the stress that was shining in his eyes. It had been present yesterday when he had visited, but she had overlooked it somehow in her eagerness to gather more news on Harry.
"I'm ok now Mrs Weasley," Harry's voice called her attention back to her friend, "Thanks for letting Ron come stay with me."
"Not at all, Harry. Just as long as you two behave yourself for Professor's Dumbledore and Snape," there was a faint warning in the tone, but Hermione thought that Harry would have a tough time misbehaving in his current condition. Ginny came over to say hello, followed by Mr Weasley, who gathered Harry into a hug of his own, murmuring something softly into the teens ear that garnered a nod and squeeze of the terribly thin arms around his chest. Ron mentioned that the twins and Bill were also there, though only Bill had the sense to say hello; he didn't have a chance to add his own touch to Harry as his father still had him wrapped up tightly. The twins looked so horrified that Hermione almost wanted to laugh.
"Harry," Hermione hadn't noticed the door opening, but Professor Dumbledore stood there, looking them all over carefully as if to assess if they had been straining Harry's obviously fragile strength, "I'm sorry to interrupt dear boy, but Minister Fudge and Editor Obfuscus Veritas have arrived. Aurors Shacklebolt and Tonks are here too, they wish to talk to you about your ordeal."
"I'm ready," Harry's familiar crooked smile became visible as he withdrew from Mr Weasley's hug, and it made Hermione want to cry. He was clearly far too delicate to be doing this, and the knowledge made her want to rant at the Minister. Ron stepped to Harry's side and took his hand, reminding Hermione that Harry would not have had a chance to master any of the spells required to give him some independence. She had quite a list for him already, though it was still back at the Burrow. She made a mental note to send the list to the Headmaster as soon as they got back to the Weasley's home.
"May we come too?" Mr Weasley asked, and when the Headmaster nodded everyone in the room chose to interpret that as permission for them to follow Harry and Ron through the door and into the Great Hall. Professor Snape was already in the Hall, glowering at everyone and hovering next to a chintz armchair, which had doubtless been drawn up by the Headmaster for Harry to sit in. The Headmaster was fond of gaudy things and Hermione had seen him draw up similar armchairs in the past.
Obfuscus Veritas wore purple robes that were so bright they glowed, in contrast to the sombre pinstripe of the Minister. Percy was there too, and all three of them were gawking with no thought for the feelings of Harry; it was enough to make Hermione almost glad that Harry couldn't see this. Tonks was standing next to Shacklebolt in her Auror robes, her hair shocked to a mousy brown colour at the sight of Hermione's friend.
"There is a seat here Harry," Professor Snape's voice broke the tableau and Hermione blinked in surprise as Harry smiled in the direction of the voice and held his free hand out. Snape helped settle Harry into the armchair, receiving a quiet,
"Thanks Severus," in return. Hermione hadn't thought she'd live to see the day those two acted nicely towards each other; in fact it disturbed her. Hopefully Harry wouldn't be kept isolated with the Professor after this interview, after all Snape was a Death Eater; not even his status as Spy could negate that. Beside her Ginny shifted uneasily and they shared a look of surprise and concern.
"Harry Minister Fudge is here," the Headmasters voice was gentle, coaching and Harry responded with a small smile, lifting his head and turning to face forward.
"Hello Minister," Harry wasn't looking at the Minister at all, who looked very insulted by this but clearly couldn't bluster as he would have liked because of how frail Harry looked. He made a noise acknowledging Harry's greeting and Hermione glared at the man when Harry withdrew a little.
"And Aurors Tonks and Shacklebolt," Dumbledore continued, the glare that he was shooting at the Minister not contaminating his voice a single iota. It was a skill that Hermione decided she should acquire as well, the better to lift Harry's spirits.
"Hello Harry."
"Wotcher Harry."
"Hello," Harry replied, not distinguishing his greeting. Hermione thought this was probably because he wouldn't have been officially introduced to them in public before and Harry was likely warned against revealing that he knew them from the Order.
"And last, Madam Obfuscus Veritas, Chief Editor of the Daily Prophet. Madam Veritas has been forbidden to speak to you Harry, as she is only here to witness the Auror interview, not conduct one herself."
Hermione didn't need to visit the library to figure out that this reiteration of the rules was as much for Madam Veritas as Harry. Harry nodded anyway to show he understood and took a deep breath. Kingsley stepped forward and sat on a stool that he conjured soundlessly opposite the dark haired waif.
"Harry, I'm going to ask you several questions," his deep voice was gentle and calm, almost dispassionate, "I want you to answer each one honestly and as completely as possible. If you need a break let me know, although it would be best to get through this in one sitting. Do you understand?"
"Yes," Harry murmured and offered a faint smile, "I'll manage."
"Ok then," Kinglsey smiled back even though Harry appeared to be looking at his nose rather than his face. It broke Hermione's heart to see such a glassy cast to Harry's eyes, which had always been so warm and alive. They had burned with his moods, and she had become used to reading them as an indicator of Harry's thoughts. That communication was void now though.
"Firstly, what can you tell me about the Dursley's and your capture by the Death Eaters?"
"From what they said after they pulled me from the car, Uncle Vernon and Mr Malfoy had an agreement. I was… being sold to the Death Eaters… the Dursley's didn't realise that they were being tricked… the Death Eaters didn't want anyone to know that they'd bought me so they… they did terrible things… it was…" Harry swallowed hard and looked down at his knees, his head lowering as he fought through the memories.
"Impossible," Fudge scoffed, clearly unmoved, "Lucius Malfoy is not a Death Eater."
"It was Mr Malfoy that snapped my wand," Harry replied in a dead voice, "You know that the wand confirms the identity of the person who destroys it to its owner…"
Hermione nodded, even as the Minister looked as if he had been slapped. She had read about that particular phenomenon after Ron had snapped his own wand. She'd come across this information in second year, when she had been looking for repair spells, hoping to help her friend. The wand always told its owner who had destroyed it, provided the owner was still alive at the time. The wand chose the Wizard, and after years of continuous use would develop a bond with its chosen one that allowed it to better refine the Magic being cast. There were ways to prove that assertion, especially if the wand in question was still available.
Tonks pulled out a box from her robes and explained in a low voice the spell she was about to cast on the wand in question. Hermione listened intently, unable to contain a gasp of dismay when she realised that the spell would completely consume Harry's wand. It would be beyond any hope of recovery then. Harry gave permission for the spell in a small voice and at the end of the incantation a wisp of something formed above the pieces of wand, which swirled slowly until it revealed Lucius Malfoy's sneering face. There was a sputter and the smell of scorched feathers and burnt holly filled the Great Hall.
"I'm sorry Harry," Ron's voice sounded mournful in the quiet that followed and Hermione realised with a shock that Harry was crying silently, arms wrapped around his narrow chest. Hermione felt herself tear up, her face heating as she struggled to control herself. Harry hated to let others see how upset he was, preferring to vent in private. Even she and Ron had very rarely seen him truly upset and they were his closest friends. The Headmaster moved then, waving a low stool into existence next to the armchair and gathering Harry into a tender hug. Ginny sniffled next to Hermione, and she saw Mrs Weasley and Fred both wipe their eyes in reaction to the scene.
"Harry…" Kingsley looked like he hated himself for trying to press the interview forward, caught between wanting to show consideration for the victim in front of him, and yet pressured by the law and the Minister to complete his task. Harry turned his head from where it had been hiding on the Headmaster's shoulder, freeing one hand from his grip on the venerable Wizards robes and wiping his face defiantly.
"I was taken to a little room that they had spelled to hide me. It was underground and made of stone," Harry's voice wavered, but he pushed the words out with determination, "The spells were… muffling me. They were… oily… dirty somehow and kept pressing on me all the time I was there."
"How were you treated?" Kingsley asked, controlling his voice in a way that Hermione could never have managed. Her instinct was to pull her wand and hex them all away from Harry, so he didn't have to go through this again so soon. He would need to talk about things eventually, but not when he was still so obviously recovering.
"They starved me, beat me… they couldn't use Magic because of the shield, but they could burn and cut me… my Magic kept flaring to heal the injuries as best as it could… then Severus came for a blood letting ritual and got me out," Harry turned his face back into Dumbledore's shoulder, "They tried to r-rape me… b-but I w-wouldn't let them…"
Hermione clenched her fists and turned her head away, sickened. She was so angry that she shook and she hated every single Death Eater in existence with a passion so fierce it was almost unrecognisable. She shot Snape a loathing glare, not caring that he had saved Harry. He had joined Voldemort and that was reason enough for her to want him well away from her vulnerable friend. His presence must be a constant reminder of the hellish weeks spent at the mercy of Voldemort and his followers, an unhealthy precedent.
"How did you escape?" Minister Fudge frowned, "And for that matter, what precisely were your injuries? You've been very vague with us Mr Potter, and that simply won't do. Obstructing the Ministry is a serious offence you know."
"As head of the Wizengamot, Cornelius, I must warn you that you are on very thin ice indeed. That broomstick won't fly," Hermione had never heard the Headmaster use that tone on anyone before and she shivered, very glad she'd never made the man that angry with her. Even after she and her friends had gotten mixed up in something that they shouldn't have he only used a disappointed-in-you tone.
"As for details," Snape snapped at them all, "I am prepared to show you the memory of my last meeting with the Dark Lord and the attendant memories of Harry's injuries."
"Very well," Fudge backed down, and Tonks reached into another pocket, pulling out a stone basin.
"You carry a pensieve in your pocket?" one of the twins blurted in astonishment and Tonks shot him a look that silenced him better than even Mrs Weasley could have at that point. Harry had yet to stir from the sheltering arms of their Headmaster, though he seemed to be a little better, his grip on the elderly Wizards robes not white knuckled any more.
"Of course," Tonks answer recalled Hermione's attention, "It's part of our interviewing requirements."
"Harry," the Headmaster said softly, "I must attend Severus."
There was soft regret in his voice but Harry nodded and straightened away from the support being given him. Mrs Weasley took the Headmasters place as he stood, drawing Harry into another hug and whispering into his hair. Ron moved closer too, and Harry reached out a hand, which the red head gathered in his own easily, with none of the expected discomfort he would have formerly shown in front of witnesses. This ordeal was aging Ron in a way that Hermione didn't like, and she made a mental note to be supportive of the redhead in the coming months.
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