To all those reviewers who've been saying "No offense, but I really hate Kinder": don't worry, you're kind of supposed to.
Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter, I would have done more with the House relationships than Slytherin=evil, Gryffindor=good. That moment where all the Slytherins walked out really was the low point of DH, IMHO.
Edit: Journal date had been changed from 2005 to 1995. Thank you, Kradeiz, for pointing out that mistake.
The next morning Harry climbed stiffly out of a bed that was much harder than he was used to. He had not slept a wink.
His hopes of seeing his friends in the Great Hall were dashed when he came out of the bedroom to find Professor Kinder waiting for him at the table where a simple breakfast was laid out, courtesy of the House-Elves, no doubt. He thought of Sirius standing in the kitchen cooking eggs and sausage, and another pang went through him.
"Good morning, Harry."
"Good morning, Professor Kinder," Harry answered automatically.
The eyebrow went up. "Really, Harry, while I insist upon you showing me the proper respect while we are in class there is no need for that sort of formality between us here. You may call me Iago if you like."
"Er…"
"Very well, then." Kinder sighed and poured himself some coffee. "That can wait until you are more comfortable with it." Harry said nothing, only sat down slowly at the table and concentrated on filling his plate.
He'd managed to avoid Kinder most of the day before under the guise of settling in, and Kinder had let him. He'd even got a word in with Ron and Hermione during dinner, where Hermione had informed him that she was holding onto the mirror and that if he had any message he'd like to give Sirius, she'd be happy to pass it on.
It looked as if he'd get no such opportunity this morning, however. Now that he was at least theoretically settled into Kinder's quarters for the duration of the break, the Defense professor seemed determined to turn their already awkward afternoon tea sessions into a full-out heart-to-heart.
"I decided we would eat here rather than in the Great Hall," he was saying, "because I thought you and I could use the opportunity to get to know each other a little better."
Harry grunted noncommittally, which he only got away with because his mouth was full of sausage.
"So, Harry, how have classes been going for you?"
Harry was not fully able to hide his surprise. Kinder seemed to be taking a different tack than with his usual afternoon tea sessions, during which he always pressed Harry for details on his experience in the graveyard or on his home life with Sirius. "Classes are going fine," he answered cautiously, taking a swig of his pumpkin juice.
"Really? From what I understand you seem to be struggling in Potions in particular."
Harry shrugged, taking another bite of his sausage.
"Harry," Kinder said sternly, "when I ask you a question I expect you to answer me properly. Now, would you care to give me a response that consists primarily of words?"
Harry let out a sigh. "You saw why I'm failing Potions. Why do you want me to spell it out for you?"
"Because you have thus far shown quite the reluctance to complain when you are being treated unfairly—a reluctance which, I must say, is quite unusual for someone of your age."
"Professor," Harry said, pushing his plate away, "do you honestly think that I've never complained about Snape?"
Kinder raised an eyebrow. "To an adult?"
"Well…"
He pressed his advantage. "Are you honestly telling me that you have never once, in your entire time at Hogwarts, in spite of treatment that is both unfair and against the rules in any decent school, filed a complaint with either the headmaster or your Head of House?"
"It's not that simple!" Harry snapped, finally losing the cool he'd been trying so hard to maintain all morning.
"Why?" Kinder showed no outward reaction, but was watching Harry with his full attention; his breakfast, too, lay forgotten on the table.
"Because!" Harry jumped up from the table; he could hear his chair clattering behind him but at this point he was too angry to care. "What makes you think that complaining gets anything done around here? I complained plenty about being taken away from Sirius—"
"Which was done for a good reason, as you well know." Harry dearly wanted to slap him to break that seemingly unshakeable calm.
"No, I don't know! Nobody ever cared about my welfare before that Skeeter cow started making up rubbish because she wanted to sell a story, and now all of a sudden everyone wants to take my family away from me!" He was breathing hard. He turned to sit down again, but his chair was on the floor.
"You claim," Kinder said carefully, "that Rita Skeeter has been writing 'rubbish.'" Harry turned away from his professor, fixing his eyes instead on the fallen chair. "Which part of her writing, precisely, do you think is a falsehood?"
"All of it," Harry spat. He still wouldn't look at Kinder.
"She brought to light a gross miscarriage of justice at the hands of Barty Crouch." There was a scraping of wood against stone as Kinder pushed his own chair away from the table. "Do you deny the truth of that?"
"Everything she wrote about Sirius." To his shame, Harry felt tears welling up in his eyes. He blinked them back furiously.
"She described with great accuracy the effects that prolonged exposure to dementors has had on every single prisoner in the history of Azkaban—with the apparent exception of Sirius Black." Kinder was now standing behind him, very close but not touching. "She also brought to the public's attention suspicious circumstances concerning you, as well as those surrounding the death of Crouch. Are you telling me that every one of these articles is also based in falsehood?"
"She never had proof for any of it." Now he did turn around to glare at Kinder. "She was just trying to stir up trouble."
Kinder sighed. Suddenly he looked much older than he had before, and somehow… deflated.
"Harry," he said, his voice gone low and hoarse, "if everyone waited for proof then nobody would ever find help." He turned away without explaining what he had meant.
Harry spent the rest of the morning in the room Kinder had given him—he refused on general principle to think of it as his. Though Kinder did not try to lock him in or forbid him from leaving, he felt as thoroughly trapped as he ever had in his cupboard at 4 Privet Drive.
After a while, however, his stomach began to rumble. He tried to ignore it at first, but soon found he was getting so hungry he would no longer be able to resist the urge to leave the room. He was beginning to sorely regret his half-eaten breakfast.
Finally, he could resist no longer. Cracking open the door, he cautiously looked around. There was no sign of Kinder. Feeling relieved, Harry slipped out of the room and tiptoed across the living room, being careful to make as little noise as possible in case the professor was still there. Though he made it out of Kinder's quarters without incident, it wasn't until he had reached the Great Hall and sat down at the Gryffindor table that Harry dared breathe a sigh of relief.
"How's it going?" Hermione asked quietly as she slid in next to him.
"How do you think?" Food had appeared on the table, and Harry gratefully helped himself.
"You didn't come to breakfast this morning," Ron pointed out rather obviously as he took a seat on Harry's other side.
"Kinder wanted to have breakfast in his quarters." Harry glanced around, making sure there was no sign of the Defense Professor. "He reckons I should complain to McGonagall or Dumbledore about Snape," he confessed, lowering his voice.
"About Snape?" Ron asked in disbelief. "You mean you've been complaining to him about Snape?"
"No. Look, it's just from that one inspection, all right? Anyway, he just asked why I'd never complained to an adult before…"
"Well, that would probably work in a Muggle school," Hermione agreed, also in a near whisper. "But Hogwarts really doesn't seem to work the same way as most Muggle schools…"
"Yeah, I suppose not." Harry paused for a moment to take a bite of food. "Listen, can you tell Sirius that I've been doing okay, and ask how the evaluation is going?"
Hermione smiled. "Of course, Harry. I'll be sure to pass it on."
All too soon, their reunion was at an end. No sooner had he finished eating than Professor Kinder showed up in the Great Hall and instructed Harry to accompany him back to his quarters. Harry had no choice but to comply.
"Have you thought about what I said regarding Professor Snape?" Kinder asked him as soon as they were alone again.
"A little bit," Harry confessed.
"And…?"
"It wouldn't do any good. Things just don't work that way at Hogwarts." Harry sat down on the sofa, crossing his arms.
"And why do you think that is the case?" Kinder eased himself into a wooden chair across from Harry. "Have you tried to take such action before?"
"Not with Snape."
"Then in what context? Other," he continued as Harry opened his mouth furiously, "than your insistence upon staying with Black?"
"I—look, I just know it won't work, okay? Snape's unfair to everyone and he's still here, so I don't see how one more complaint from me is going to change things," Harry shot back, hoping to turn the tables.
"Is that so?" Kinder was frowning. "Well, I suppose I'll have to take a serious look into this school's policies."
Though Harry privately thought that would hurt more than it would help, he didn't voice his thoughts, not wanting to prolong this conversation any further.
He had, however, forgotten Kinder's penchant for making things worse. "Enough of that for the moment, then. Do you recall when I asked you whether you were aware of what constitutes abuse?"
Unfortunately. "Yeah," he said out loud.
"And…?"
Harry sighed. "Hitting. Name-calling. Hexing. Neglect. Obliviating the person afterward so they won't be able to say—"
Kinder held up a hand. "You're repeating what I taught you, but you don't seem to be thinking about any of it. Have any of these things ever been done to you?"
"Not by Sirius." Harry glared at Kinder, crossing his arms tighter.
Kinder was looking at him very closely, so much so that it made Harry uncomfortable. He got the urge to shift about in his seat, but forced himself to stay still and look Kinder in the eye. "Like I told you before, Sirius has never even yelled at me."
Kinder continued to eye him intensely for a moment, then, to Harry's surprise, he gave a curt nod.
"We will talk more later, of course, but for the time being I will trust your judgment."
It was all Harry could do to hide his surprise. He didn't give any answer, sure that Kinder was only telling him what he wanted to hear for no other reason than to get his trust.
Harry didn't dream on Christmas Eve. Instead, he woke up with his scar burning so intensely that it was all he could do not to let out a shout. Out of habit, he groped for the mirror—but it wasn't there; he had given it to Hermione for safekeeping.
Harry cursed under his breath. He needed to tell Sirius. Never mind that it was only a second's worth of pain, that he didn't know any details about what was going on—someone in the Order had to know that tonight, Voldemort was the happiest he'd been for the past fourteen years.
He jumped out of bed and headed for the door. He'd just have to sneak up to Gryffindor Tower—a difficult task without his Invisibility Cloak, but by no means impossible.
Harry opened the bedroom door very, very slowly, afraid that it might creak. All of the lights were out; there was no sign of Kinder. He tiptoed out of the room in his sock feet. He managed to get across the living room without incident, but no sooner had he grasped the handle of the front door than a beam of wandlight appeared behind him, causing his shadow to stand out starkly against the wood.
"Harry? What are you doing out of bed?"
Harry mentally cursed. There was no way he could let Kinder find out about the Order, nor did he want the man to know he had a direct link into Voldemort's mind.
"I was sneaking back into Gryffindor Tower. I can't sleep here." That statement was true enough, he thought.
"I assure you, that is quite normal when moving to a new location—"
"It's not the location!" Harry snapped before he could stop himself. "It's that I have to stay in the same place as you!" He shut his mouth, breathing heavily.
Kinder's face betrayed no emotion. "And why is it you dislike me so much?" he asked, clinically, as if they were in class and Harry had pointed out a problem with an exercise.
"You really have to ask?" Harry demanded through clenched teeth. "You take me away from the best home I've had in my whole life, you never believe a word I say, you keep acting the caring parent figure even though you couldn't give a damn about what I want, and now you won't even let me see my friends!"
"Harry, I would never attempt to keep you away from your friends—"
"Nice try!" Harry snarled. "Do you think I don't know why you keep hustling me back here every time I get a chance to have a word alone with them? I don't think you'd ever let me out of here if I didn't have to eat!" He was breathing hard. He tried to open the door, but the handle wouldn't budge.
"I have been keeping you down here because I know that if left to your own devices, you will attempt to communicate with Black—against the express orders of the Ministry, no less." He paused, seemingly unfazed by Harry's glare. "If, however, you would like to spend more time with your friends, I see no reason why they should not come here."
"Ron and Hermione—here?" Kinder had made the suggestion with the air of giving him a real treat, but somehow it only increased Harry's fury. "Want to supervise us, do you?" he asked coldly. "Can't have us talking about anything the Ministry disapproves of, after all."
"That will be quite enough." Though he hadn't raised his voice at all, Kinder spoke very firmly and Harry knew that somehow, he'd crossed a line. "If you would like to see your friends tomorrow, you will invite them here. I do not think that is an unreasonable condition. Now, unless there is anything else you would like to discuss with me, return to your room. Any more backtalk, and you will be spending your Christmas in detention. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes, sir." Harry brushed past him, not bothering to hide his anger as he returned to the room Kinder had given him. The light outside continued to glow long after Harry had returned to bed.
It was the first day since he'd started at Hogwarts that Harry wasn't looking forward to Christmas. He didn't even look at the presents sitting on the floor when he rolled out of bed, but left the room sluggishly, hoping that he would at least be able to see Ron and Hermione at breakfast in the Great Hall.
He never got that far. No sooner had he entered the living room than Professor Kinder walked through the front door, leading Ron and Hermione. Ron wore a scowl on his face; Hermione was clutching the morning paper to her chest and looked terrified.
"What are you doing here?" Harry asked, some of his delight showing through in spite of himself. His friends, however, gave him solemn looks.
"Professor Kinder invited us down," Hermione said in a hushed voice, looking warily around the room. "Harry—"
"Won't you join us for breakfast?" Kinder interrupted. A variety of dishes had already appeared on the table. "I expect you'll want to open presents later, as well."
The three of them exchanged a hopeless look. Harry bit down on the urge to start yelling again, knowing that if he did he'd be spending Christmas in Kinder's idea of an unpleasant detention. Biting his tongue, he pulled up a chair. Taking their cues from him, Ron and Hermione seated themselves as well.
They ate in hushed silence, not at all like the usual comfortable chatter with which the three friends normally occupied meals. Hermione kept looking back and forth between Harry and Kinder as though afraid one of them might explode. Ron only sat in sullen silence, shooting the occasional glare in Kinder's direction.
Finally, though, after what seemed like hours, breakfast was finished. When Kinder finally set down his fork at the side of his plate, Harry jumped up from the table. "Think I'll go open presents now," he said. "Come on, let's go to my room."
Once they were inside Harry closed the door and locked it. He immediately turned to his friends. "My scar hurt really bad last night, and—"
"Harry," Hermione interrupted him abruptly. "Look at this." She unfolded the Daily Prophet to show him the cover page.
"Mass breakout from Azkaban?" His friends nodded grimly. Harry sat down, hard, on the bed.
"That's why," he groaned. "He was happy last night…"
"What—You-Know-Who?" Ron's freckles stood out against his face, which had suddenly gone white. "You mean… you're reading You-Know-Who's mind?"
"His moods, more like." Harry shook his head. "I can't explain it, but my scar hurt last night, and—I just knew."
He took another look at the paper in his hand. The wizards and witch pictured leered insolently back at him.
Antonin Dolohov, convicted of the brutal murders of Gideon and Fabian Prewett.
Augustus Rookwood, convicted of leaking Ministry of Magic secrets to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.
Bellatrix Lestrange, convicted of the torture and permanent incapacitation of Frank and Alice Longbottom.
"Longbottom?" Harry said, startled. "You don't mean—"
"Neville's parents." Hermione's voice was soft. "We just found out this morning."
Harry forced his eyes back to the paper, where he continued reading down the list.
Peter Pettigrew, convicted of aiding in the murder of Lily and James Potter and of slaughtering thirteen Muggles with a single curse.
"Damn it!" Harry threw the paper forcefully onto the floor. "What explanation is Fudge giving for this?" he demanded. He couldn't stand to read the rest of the article himself.
"He just said they must have found the same hole Sirius did when he escaped," Ron said. "He must never have told the Ministry—well, you know."
"Yeah, and can you blame him? They threw him in there for twelve years without a trial, of course he's not going to tell them how he got out!"
"Anyway, Fudge doesn't want to admit that the dementors have turned against the Ministry," Hermione added quietly.
At that moment, however, they heard Kinder's footsteps coming toward the door, and any further hope for private conversation was lost.
Entry December Twenty-Fifth, 1995
He's hiding something.
There is no doubt that the boy is quite earnest in defense of his godfather. I can no longer deny that, whatever else might be happening, he understands what I have been trying to teach him and he still honestly believes that Black is innocent. This is a possibility I am now ready to accept, as contrary as it is to my previous conclusions.
Be that as it may, something is off.
There are things he does not want to talk about even though he should have no reason for secrecy. Of course, that is to be expected on some level from any child talking to a social worker, but this goes beyond the average teenager's determination to be misunderstood. No, as far as Harry Potter is concerned, something is very, very wrong.
No Hogwarts fourth year has the knowledge necessary to make a Portkey. He could not have left the Quidditch pitch that day without outside assistance—and the number of eyewitnesses leaves no doubt that he did indeed leave. I very much doubt that he left of his own volition.
What he tells me cannot be the truth. As everyone knows and Harry ought to know better than anyone, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named perished on Halloween night fourteen years ago. It is, however, evident that Harry underwent something that day, something so traumatic that he is unwilling to speak of it, that he chooses to place the blame on a phantom from his early childhood rather than face the reality.
What that reality is, I may never know. My early lines of inquiry in that direction have convinced me that trying to force the information out of him may do even more damage than the initial trauma. I can only continue to do as I have done, to show him an example of a caring, concerned adult, and hope that someday he will learn to trust me.
What I do need to find out, and soon, is who was responsible for the events of last May. Someone made that Portkey—someone close enough to Harry to put it on his person without arousing suspicion. Was it Dumbledore? Black? One of the teachers? One of his friends, who was made an accomplice unknowingly? So far I have made no progress in this line of inquiry—I fear I am disliked and mistrusted among the teachers and student body alike. I must tread lightly, and be more subtle in my efforts. Pride has no place when a child's life is at stake.
I will have to think this over again in the morning, when my head is clearer. For the time being, however, all I can do is sleep on it and hope that I find a solution soon.
A/N: A Friday update? What madness is this?
I know that there was a previous draft where I described one of Kinder's inspections... but then, looking back on the last few chapters I actually posted, I realized I must have cut it from the final version. Anyway, I hope it's clear that by this point that Kinder has sat in on at least one of Snape's classes, and that he witnessed some of Snape's admittedly less-than-fair treatment of his students.
Hm... Who all would like to see a round of Kinder vs. Snape? Can't promise it'll happen, but if I get enough requests, it might.
This last chapter provides us with a look into Kinder's possibly disturbed mind. I am in no way trying to justify his actions, but I do believe that there is value in explaining why characters act the way they do. There is a difference. In any case, this was my attempt at explaining just a little about how Kinder's mind works.
Title of next chapter: "Life and Death"