Disclaimer: JK Rowling and assorted publishers own Harry Potter.
This is a work of fanfiction: no money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Chapter 37
Hermione's startled cry was cut short as she sat upright in bed, clearly adjusting to the unexpected surroundings. By Harry's bed, everyone looked uneasily at each other; no-one wanted to be the bearer of bad news. Fortunately, Madam Pomfrey was doing her best to keep Hermione's mind occupied, peppering her with questions, and plying her with some kind of potion as Flitwick and McGonagall attended to Parvati.
Hermione had now pulled herself up into a fully upright position in the bed, nodding occasionally to Pomfrey's questioning as Parvati regained consciousness in the bed next to her, equally disorientated. Perched on Cho's bed, Harry watched Mrs Weasley compose herself - he figured that it probably made most sense for Ron's mum to break the news to them. In so far as it made sense for anyone to be forced to be the bearer of such grim tidings. Especially to someone who had only just become aware that they'd been kidnapped, and somehow rescued.
With a heavy sigh, Mrs Weasley, still pale faced, stood up, and, squeezing Harry's arm, left the small group of friends and made her way first to Madam Pomfrey and then to Professor McGonagall. Not wanting to watch, yet somehow unable to turn away, Harry saw Mrs Weasley take Hermione's hand in hers as she started to talk.
Hermione's expression turned from one of pleasant surprise to bewilderment. A half-chuckle of disbelief was then followed by a face that spoke only of pure shock; Hermione twisted around to look at the group assembled about Harry's bed; Harry, Cho, the Twins, Seamus, Neville, Lavender and Ginny. And Harry could see the fear in her eyes, before the tears started to fall.
In the next bed, Parvati, who had clearly picked up on the content of Mrs Weasley's message, also looked across at the rest of the Gryffindors, as if pleading them to contradict her. Seamus shook his head slowly at her; this really wasn't some sick joke.
Seeing his friends' reaction to the news of Ron's death kicked of Harry's own grief once more, and the ward dissolved through a haze of tears.
There had been several sets of visitors to the ward by the time 11 o'clock came round. Padma had come in to visit her twin, and Seamus' sister, Colette, had also ventured in, although she was treating her brother with something close to caution. Harry assumed that she'd already been told that he'd been attacked by what could well have been a werewolf. That his own family now appeared wary of him didn't bode well.
Dean was still under sedation, although Madam Pomfrey assured everyone that he would be awake that evening, and would be up and about the following day. Nonetheless, to give him a little privacy, the Twins had pulled the curtains about his bed.
To Harry's complete surprise, Lupin and Snuffles had arrived at 10 o'clock, albeit to the traditional greeting, "Professor Lupin! What are you doing here?"
Lupin, though looking somewhat worse for wear (after all, it had been a full moon the night before), rolled his eyes in mock exasperation at the greeting. One of the benefits of his former stint as a Professor at Hogwarts was that none of Harry's friends needed introducing; nonetheless, Harry noticed Lupin's eyebrows raise fractionally on 'Miss Chang'. Cho and he were now sitting side by side on the bed, fingers intertwined absently. Their attention also drawn, Harry noted with slight dismay that the Patil twins' eyes narrowed simultaneously.
The round of greetings finished, Lupin turned back to Harry, "A word, if I may," he ventured, indicating the individual room Harry had been installed in after his duel with Vellum. Snuffles had already padded inside as Harry reluctantly slid off the bed to join them.
Closing the door behind him, Harry looked from Snuffles to Lupin, unsure how he was supposed to act, and not knowing how much of the situation the two Marauders were aware of. "Ron's dead," he stated, bluntly - the numbness was back once more, which greatly aided explanations, but he knew it was only temporary. Already that morning there'd been periods where he'd been unable to string two words together, so overwhelmed was he by the loss.
Lupin sighed, and looked far, far older than his thirty odd years. "Yes, Harry, we heard, and... well, all I can say is that I am truly, truly sorry. To lose any life is terrible enough, but one so young... and in such a manner..." his voice trailed off into contemplative silence. Harry was starting to understand what people meant when they said that words couldn't express their feelings. What words could do this justice?
With a shake of his shaggy coat, Snuffles transformed into a grave, stricken looking Sirius, the haunted look Harry had always associated with Azkaban now exaggerated. He wrapped his godson up in a bearlike hug, whispering, "I don't know what to say, Harry, I really don't..."
"Are you safe here?" asked Harry, breaking what had been a few moments of contemplative silence, "I mean, McGonagall..."
"Professor McGonagall, Harry," chided Lupin, gently.
"Sorry, Professor McGonagall told us that the Ministry would be here at eleven. They're going to question us. Well, I assume they are."
"I'll be safe enough, Harry," assured Sirius, "I'll be slipping back to Remus' quarters after we've spoken, and I'll stay out of the way."
"Remus' quarters? What, here? Are you coming back?" In a sea of blackness, this was the first piece of good news Harry had received in what seemed like a lifetime, although in actual fact barely twelve hours had passed since Harry had learned of Ron's fate.
It seemed that Lupin never ceased to be amazed by the respect his former students held for him, and a brief smile flickered across his face, "indeed I am - I understand that Professor Vellum appears to have disappeared, and Minerva called me this morning."
"That's great!" exclaimed Harry; finally a lesson he'd be able to look forward to.
"But let's not get side-tracked," urged Sirius, "Harry, what the Hell did you do last night?"
"Well," started Harry, marshalling his thoughts, "it all started really at dinner, when I couldn't see Hermione or Parvati at the Gryffindor table..."
Harry talked the two men through the night's events; the initial search of the castle. Using the Marauder's Map and Cho's Temporal Reversal spell (Lupin nodded approvingly at that point). The discovery that Pettigrew had been on the grounds - this caused Sirius to suck sharply through his teeth, and a dark look flashed across Lupin's eyes - and then the group following the Map's trail to Greenhouse 3.
The discovery of the portal, and Harry's first jump through, determining it led to Beauxbatons, and the relative emptiness of the place. Then the composition of the rescue party - he, Cho, Seamus, Dean and Ron. Sending Neville off to find a member of staff, Ginny and Lavender being left to guard the portal itself.
The moonlight attack, Dean's transformation, Seamus being bitten. The group splitting up, Ron taking the injured back to Hogwarts, ("I thought I was sending him back to safety!" protested Harry, the guilt starting to build), he and Cho making their way into Beauxbatons, and into the dungeon.
Harry glossed over the battles, and also the intense pain that had seared through him when the four had Portkeyed to Azkaban (the very mention of the place caused Sirius to flinch). Then Portkeying to the Astronomy Tower, and Cho and he finally making their way to the medical wing.
Sirius was looking at his godson, wide-eyed with disbelief, "Sweet Snape on toast," he muttered, before adding, defensively, "it's just an expression."
Harry stifled a grin (it was a scary image), before turning to Lupin, "Um, Professor Lupin, I told Seamus you might be able to talk to him..."
"Of course I will, Harry," assured the Professor, "if he really was bitten last night, then it's most probable he'd transform tonight... and if he hasn't transformed by tomorrow night, we can be fairly confident he's in the clear."
"He's not, though, is he?" conceded Harry, dismally.
"Well... no, probably not," admitted Lupin, resignedly. "Sirius, we've spent long enough, I fear, so you'd better switch back to Padfoot before the Ministry people arrive."
Wordlessly the shaggy dog rematerialised in the place of the escaped convict, and the trio exited the room to join the main group of students still congregated about Harry and Cho's beds. Harry saw Lupin exchange a few words with Seamus, before announcing that he was returning to his quarters, but would be back once the Ministry had conducted its interviews. Harry could see why a known werewolf and an escaped convict wouldn't want to spend any more time in the company of Ministry Aurors than they had to.
A strange silence fell, and they all looked uneasily from one to the other, waiting for the Ministry's investigation team to arrive.
A team of ten people had entered the Medical Wing at 11 o'clock precisely, six wizards and four witches, all dressed in deep black professional robes, some of them with their wands drawn, and a look of near paranoia about their faces.
"Good Morning," announced a stern, silver-haired witch, looking even more severe than Professor McGonagall on a bad day, "I am Violet Ventura, and I shall be heading up the investigation into last night's... unfortunate events. You will be pleased to know that Minister Fudge himself is taking a personal interest in this case," (Harry groaned, inwardly), "and it is my responsibility to ensure we are able to tie up all proceedings as quickly, and efficiently as possible, and bring appropriate charges to bear.
"I trust it goes without saying that I expect, and demand, even, your full co-operation in this investigation, and although I appreciate these may be trying times for you, please understand we are acting only in the best interests of the public as a whole."
If these words had been calculated to reassure, they failed spectacularly. The knowledge that Fudge was taking a personal interest in the case rather suggested to Harry that the Minister was just itching to get one back on Harry for his outburst in the Hospital Wing (he'd actually been laid up in what was now Hermione's bed) after the Third Task.
"As I explained," continued Ventura, "I am heading up the investigation, and will be assisted by me three colleagues, Majella Madagascar," a glamorous, African witch nodded briefly, her long hair braided with black beads rattling quietly, her dark eyes cold with suspicion, "Hunter Carpathia," a thick set wizard, bald, but with a straggly goatee beard of silvery hair, and watery blue eyes, "and finally Vigo Drecht," a dark haired wizard with sharply chiselled features and a disturbing scar running vertically from the corner of his left eye to his jaw.
"The other members of the team are security personnel, and need not concern you." Of course, this last statement had exactly the opposite effect, and the group anxiously assessed the threat the six hit-wizards appeared to present. "Now, would all those people not directly involved in the events of yesterday evening please leave. Now." commanded Ventura.
Watching the Twins, Mrs Weasley, Colette and even Padma reluctantly leave the ward, Harry suddenly started to feel vulnerable.
The investigation team split up into four teams to do the interviewing - Ventura, Drecht, Madagascar and Carpathia did the questioning, having appropriated a series of classrooms on the first floor for this purpose. Each of the questioners had a hit-wizard for protection, leaving the final two members of the investigation team watching over the ward.
Harry's interview was conducted by Carpathia, whose 'security' was a tall, gangly wizard with sandy hair and pockmarked skin. The hit-wizard's wand was trained on Harry from the moment he left the ward, which wasn't exactly the most pleasant of situations to be in. The team had also required Harry to surrender his own wand for the duration of the interview, not realising that in Harry's case this would be a pointless gesture.
They were in the Ancient Runes classroom, a place Harry had never been before. In design it was essentially similar to Flitwick's Charms classroom, with the big desk, in front of a large window overlooking a courtyard. There were stone tablets with impossibly ancient inscriptions lining the walls, and a mini-library of ancient texts along the back wall.
Carpathia was filling in some kind of pre-inked parchment, sitting at the large desk, and indicating that Harry should sit opposite, barely glancing at the interviewee. The hit-wizard took position behind, and to the left of Carpathia, never once letting his wand stray from being trained at Harry's forehead. His scar started to twinge at the thought.
Finally, Carpathia looked up from his writing, and locked eyes with Harry, seemingly trying to determine guilt or innocence simply through a staring contest. Years of putting up with the Dursleys had taught Harry never to give in to these games, and he matched his inquisitor look for look.
"Drink," intoned Carpathia, his eyes not straying from Harry's face as he indicated a small glass of water with his quill hand. The water was perfectly clear, which, to Harry's mind, immediately summoned up memories of Snape's threat the previous year to add some Veritaserum to his pumpkin juice.
"Veritaserum," observed Harry, as a statement rather than a question.
"Standard Ministry questioning procedure," confirmed Carpathia, "and I might add that if you refuse to drink it, that will, er, reflect poorly upon you in the trial."
Harry didn't doubt for one second that that would be the case, and lifted the glass to his lips. He deserved this. He'd got Ron killed, he'd been instrumental in Cedric's death. He'd forced Cho to relive the night of the Third Task... so much guilt, and here was a way of finally admitting that burden. He drained the glass, and put it down carefully at the edge of the desk.
Again Carpathia appeared to be playing some kind of mind game, considering Harry intently for maybe forty seconds before asking his first question: "Name?"
"Harry James Potter," confirmed Harry, automatically, and unthinkingly. He wondered what would have happened if he'd tried to lie as Carpathia scribbled his answer down.
They started off with the search for Hermione and Parvati at dinner the previous evening (Harry left out the bit about his search by sense), and then collecting the Marauders' Map.
"This Map, you mention, where is it now?"
"Um, I'm not sure - R.. Ron had it last. I think."
"Hmmm." Carpathia had a way of acknowledging answers in such non-committal fashion that Harry was never sure whether he'd given a good answer or a poor one.
"And the map showed Pettigrew in the Greenhouse..."
"Pettigrew? Is that another student?"
"No, Peter Pettigrew. The person Sirius Black was accused of murdering when my parents... were... killed..."
Carpathia exhaled slowly through his nostrils, "Fudge warned me about this," he muttered to himself before taking a deep breath and fixing Harry with a steely glare. "Look, Laddie, I know that Black must've put one Hell of a Confundus Charm on you. Fudge told me all about that night. Face facts: Pettigrew was killed by Sirius Black, who, I might add, also took out another twelve people with that curse. Once you get that fact straight in your head, life becomes much more straightforward. So you went to the Greenhouse. What did you find?"
"It was empty, but the storeroom had a portal to Beauxbatons inside it."
"Was the storeroom you refer to locked or open?"
"It was locked. Ron cast Alohamora to open it."
"You wilfully broke into school property, outside of classroom hours, without informing anyone in authority of your actions?"
"Yes." Harry watched as his tormentor scribbled something on a second piece of parchment. Probably a charge-sheet, he thought, gloomily.
"Once there, what did you do?"
"I stepped through the portal, to see where it led, and to check if Hermione and Parvati were there."
Carpathia's quill hovered over his parchment, and he looked at Harry incredulously, "Did you honestly walk through a completely unknown portal, without informing anyone of your actions, without... are you completely stupid? You had no idea what you might face on the other side of that thing!"
"I had to find out where it went. I had to know if Hermione and Parvati were OK."
"And how did you plan to achieve that?" asked Carpathia, in a superior tone, as though he'd seen immediately the flaw in Harry's plan.
"By sense," Harry found himself answering, even though he'd willed himself to remain silent. Or profess ignorance.
"Sense? What's that?"
"I have the ability to sense energy patterns - I can recognise people that way within a large radius. I was more than confident that if Hermione and Parvati were within about two miles of that portal I'd know about it."
"You're a Parselmouth, too, aren't you?" observed Carpathia, with a trace of suspicion.
"Yes," confirmed Harry, surprised that Carpathia hadn't chased down the sense thing.
Carpathia scribbled some further notes, before once more locking eyes with Harry. "Seem to have a talent for not mentioning special... attributes, don't you? Let me make it perfectly clear, Potter, we take a dim view of people who hide abilities that could be associated with the Dark Arts.
"This Boy-Who-Lived nonsense doesn't phase me - I got pulled off the Diggory case last year, before we had a chance to conduct questions," Carpathia was nodding his head slowly, as though a huge jigsaw in his mind was starting to piece together, "but even then it was evident that you've not been dealing with a full deck for a long time now... Mr Harry Potter, you are going down for this."
"What?" exclaimed Harry, startled by this turn of events, and perturbed by the resurrection of Cedric's death.
"You must think we're completely thick. This whole thing was a setup, wasn't it? You knew that Granger and," Carpathia looked at his notes, "Patil would be missing, because you set that up. You knew there was a portal in the Greenhouse, and you knew you would come to no harm jumping through because you've already been using it regularly..."
Harry's eyebrows were raised at this incredible flight of delusional fancy.
"And you tell us that the portal took you to Beauxbatons, which is where You-Know-Wh..."
"Voldemort," corrected Harry, by reflex.
The hit wizard spoke for the first time, "I can take him now, Sir." Harry, startled, looked at the tall wizard, who up to that point had been perfectly silent. The wand was still locked rigidly on his forehead.
"Please show me your left forearm, Mr Potter," commanded Carpathia, ignoring his protector's observation.
"What?!" cried Harry, stunned. Surely they couldn't think that he was...
"Your left forearm, please," persisted the Ministry official.
Shrugging, Harry rolled back his robe, indicating bare skin, and noting a look of disappointment cross Carpathia's face at the lack of a Dark Mark. "You can't seriously think I'm in league with Voldemort?"
"Let's see: you're the only witness to Cedric Diggory's death, and the only person who claims to have seen He Who Must Not Be Named. You're a Parselmouth, you have an abysmal track record when it comes to respecting authority, and you somehow nonchalantly walked into what is reputed to be the Dark Lord's lair, and came back, with two hostages, completely unscathed. That paints a pretty convincing picture of collusion in my mind, I'll have you know.
"And," he added, menacingly, "I assure you that any right minded jury will be in full agreement."
"I'm not in league with Voldemort!" protested Harry, hotly. This was Veritaserum he was under, surely Carpathia knew he couldn't be lying?
"Then tell me why you were so confident of walking through that portal!" demanded Carpathia.
"I knew I could get back. I have a Portkey," admitted Harry, deciding that owning up to the Portkey, which was bound to be covered later anyway, would be better than being assumed to have done some kind of deal with Voldemort.
"You have a Portkey," repeated Carpathia, in a tone of near disbelief.
Harry fished the stone pendant out from his robes, "Dumbl... Professor Dumbledore made it for me, it switches between here and Azkaban. I knew that even if I couldn't get back through the portal, I would be able to Portkey first to Azkaban and then back here using this."
"And that is how you got back, isn't it? Via Azkaban?"
"Yes," confirmed Harry, wondering why Carpathia suddenly seemed to scent blood.
"And by a truly amazing coincidence, the Dementors all vanished from Azkaban last night. The very night that you Portkeyed there. Entirely innocently, I'm sure."
Harry's blood ran cold, as he saw yet another line of scribble added to what he was now convinced was a charge sheet. Things were starting to look bad.
The questioning continued. By the time he got to the battles in the dungeons, Carpathia had sensed that Harry was holding something back in his account; "Tell me, exactly which spell did you use against this... troll creature?"
"I summoned a lightning bolt," explained Harry.
"Yes, you said, but what was the incantation? That's serious Dark Magic for a fifth-year student."
"There was no incantation. I can summon lightning bolts."
"How is that possible? The three basic tenants of Magic are that you need the Will, the Word and the Wand. I ask again, which incantation did you use?"
"I don't need a wand, or an incantation," explained Harry, brokenly, "because I'm not a wizard. I'm a Mage."