Chapter 16: Justice and Power

Uncle Vernon had, on more than one occasion, complained about the 'wheels of justice' turning slowly. And now, at last, Harry understood exactly what he meant. More than two weeks had passed, and there had been no real action from the Ministry regarding his godfather.

Amelia Bones had sent a nice letter informing him that someone connected with his parents' murders was in custody, but had included no real details. The Daily Prophet had reported on a suspected Death Eater who had been arrested by Aurors, but there was no indication of what said Death Eater had done. And of course, there was no mention of Sirius Black.

Peter was constantly advising patience. It was only logical, the man had said, that the Ministry would want to take its time ensuring that everything Pettigrew had said was the truth, and not just some ploy to get a top-level Death Eater out of prison. But lately, Harry had begun to see a bit of concern in his friend's eyes suggesting that maybe Peter wasn't quite as optimistic as he pretended.

Fortunately for Harry, he had a few other things that he could focus on. School, of course, kept him reasonably busy, and he was always working on learning more combat spells for Defense Against the Dark Arts. The class itself continued to be a bit of a letdown, with the primary focus on potentially hazardous creatures, but there were plenty of books in the library, even if he did have to sneak into the restricted section on occasion. And, a few days later, there was something even more important that drew Harry's attention.

Retrieving the omnioculars that he had stealthily placed in the potions laboratory was no more difficult than placing them had been. Watching the recording of the "punishment" the vicious bullies had suffered without breaking something (or finding and breaking them) was far more difficult.

Chad had adjusted the omnioculars to record from 6 to 10 every week night, rather than try to find a way to remotely activate the hidden devices. Given that the detentions only lasted two hours each night (if that) a large percentage of the recording simply showed an empty classroom. But the times that showed the detention made Harry glad he had a record of just how ridiculous the Hogwarts sense of justice was.

As he had suspected when he first learned that Snape was going to be in charge of the detentions, the punishment the Slytherins had suffered was an absolute joke. While they had been required to clean cauldrons the first few days, Snape had made it clear that they were primarily being punished for being caught, not for what they did. And, within a week, even that farce of a penalty was gone. Instead, the students spent their time working on homework, with frequent breaks to laugh and joke about what they had done.

Harry may not be able to do more to push things forward in the case of Sirius Black, but in this matter his hands weren't tied.

Spreading the word throughout Hogwarts was even easier than Harry had thought. After all, he had proof for anyone who wanted to see.

"I watched all of the records, and of their forty hours of detention, the Slytherins spent just over eight hours on actual punishment, specifically cleaning cauldrons," he announced to the gathered students. "The remainder was spent either working on homework, or joking about their crimes and laughing at their victims. Anyone who wants to see is welcome to look at these omnioculars. I recorded the whole thing."

A few people took him up on the offer. Harry had already queued the recording to the right place for maximum effect, and it didn't take long for people to realize that he was telling the truth.

"Tell your friends," he instructed before he left. "Spread the word. If this is the extent of what the Hogwarts faculty will do, we need to make our own justice."

The news spread through the school like wildfire, which proved to be both a good and a bad thing. Almost all of the students knew about the absolute joke the punishment had been. Unfortunately, Snape and Dumbledore soon found out as well, which is how Harry wound up in the Headmaster's office with Dumbledore trying to play the disappointed grandfather, and Snape doing a marvelous impression of a rabid dog, all but frothing at the mouth.

"Surely you understand, Harry, that Professor Snape cannot be seen to punish students too harshly," Dumbledore implored.

"First off, that's ridiculous. If he's going to be a teacher here, he needs to follow the same rules as everyone else, including enforcing discipline fairly. And second, if he really couldn't punish them appropriately, then you shouldn't have had your pet Death Eater handle the detentions," Harry retorted angrily.

Snape said nothing, but the anger in his eyes grew hotter at that comment.

"There are many complicated issues at play here that you do not understand," Dumbledore tried.

"Doesn't matter," Harry said, cutting the old man off. "Those students brutally attacked five people, and the punishment you gave them was an absolute joke."

"And thus, you intend to rally the students to punish them yourself? How does that make you any better than them?" Dumbledore demanded, his voice rising just a little.

Harry refused to be cowed. "All I'm doing is revealing the truth of what happened during those detentions. How others choose to respond is not my decision. But yes, I certainly hope that they will be punished."

"I'm afraid that is something that I cannot allow," Dumbledore said, shaking his head sadly. "Vigilante justice is never acceptable. I will be confiscating both of those omnioculars."

"Fine," Harry replied with a shrug, careful not to give any hint that he had other recordings he hadn't told anyone about. "Everyone already knows the truth. All you're doing is proving to all the other students that you're trying to protect a bunch of vicious criminals. I wonder what they'll think of that."

"It's just so frustrating," Harry complained to Peter a few nights later. "Everyone knows what they did, but nobody can really do anything. All seven of the attackers are Slytherins with no real ties to any of the other houses, so the fact that nobody outside of Slytherin wants anything to do with them has no real impact. Sure, it means that Slytherin house as a whole is being isolated a bit more than usual, but that's hardly a punishment for most of them. I doubt they even noticed. They certainly don't care."

"I know it's difficult, but there really isn't much that you can do right now," Peter cautioned.

Harry wasn't really paying attention to his friend, however. "In some ways, they're actually considered to be heroes in Slytherin! The ones that fought for what they believed in, and suffered for it," he ranted. "And everyone just lets it go. A few people shake their heads in disappointment, but most just ignore it."

"I agree that justice in magical Britain is a bit of a joke, but that's what we're working to change. As maddening as it is, we need to accept that things are a long way from perfect, and it's going to take time for us to make a difference."

"Meanwhile, my godfather rots in a prison despite being innocent, and students get praised for attacking other kids," Harry spat bitterly. "I can't believe my parents actually fought for this society."

Peter sighed. "You're not going to hear me defending it. That's part of why I left. But change has to start somewhere."

"And maybe change would happen faster if good people weren't so determined to take the moral high ground," Harry countered. "Take justice into their own hands, rather than leaving it to a corrupt government."

"You're not entirely wrong, but that sort of response only escalates things. Let's say that you punish them as you think they deserve. An eye for an eye. What then? The ministry punishes you. Is that what you want?"

"Only if they know it was me in the first place," Harry muttered angrily, but he could understand the older man's point.

"I wish I could tell you that everything will work out in the end. That good people will be rewarded, and the bad people will be punished. But the truth is, injustice is an unfortunate fact of life. We do the best we can, but humanity will never be perfect."

"There's a big difference between 'humans aren't perfect' and students being required to clean cauldrons for a few hours to make up for brutally attacking children," Harry retorted, but his heart really wasn't in it.

"I know, and we will find a way to ensure that those young men are punished for their actions. But right now, our options are limited. We need to keep an eye on the real target, continue to work on exposing and eliminating corruption in the ministry. That's the key. Until that corruption has been dealt with, there isn't much we can do," Peter finished with a sympathetic smile.

"You're right," Harry reluctantly admitted.

"There's something very wrong at this school," Harry muttered as he glared at Malfoy, who was being followed by most of the other Slytherins in their year.

"You're just now realizing that?" Neville asked, his voice a mix of anger and resignation.

"Things may not be perfect, but the teachers are doing their best," Hermione stated.

Harry gritted his teeth in frustration. Hermione's respect and even admiration for the professors was really getting on his nerves. Biting back an angry retort, he instead just walked off.

Maybe it would have been better if he had stayed and gotten into an argument with Hermione. Even if they'd had some harsh words to say to each other, they could have worked past eventually. Instead, as he stormed off, he heard Parkinson say in a simpering voice, "You're so brave, Draco, fighting back against the mudbloods like that."

Harry saw red.

"This is a bad idea," Harry admitted softly to himself. He was past the point of caring, however. All of the rage and anger that had been building for the past few weeks finally had a target. It had taken everything he had yesterday not to race over a beat Malfoy and his sycophants bloody. Only by focusing his thoughts on a more satisfying option had he managed to restrain himself.

He'd spent all night planning, including a few days in Timeland preparing. And now, he was ready.

Hidden under his invisibility cloak, he carefully checked the map, watching as his targets walked around their dormitories. After a few minutes, the first target, Philip Greengrass, exited the Slytherin common room with a few friends. Harry waited until they had passed, then shot a few confundus charms and a stunner. As he had hoped, the two friends continued walking toward the main staircase, completely ignoring their fallen friend.

Rushing over, Harry levitated the stunned boy down into the expanded trunk that lead to Timeland, then checked the map once more, preparing himself for the next target.

There was one spot of difficulty when two of his targets left the dorms in the middle of a large group of students, but fortunately for Harry, the confundus charm was invisible. He charmed the two boys to think they needed to go to the bathroom on the first floor, then stunned them as soon as they were out of sight of the others.

His other targets, such as Malfoy, were much easier. After gathering them all and quickly dosing them with Draught of Living Death, he dumped them in the gym at Timeland, then hurried up to the Great Hall for breakfast.

He and Hermione weren't really speaking to each other, which suited him just fine for now. Neville sat awkwardly between them, but all three ate in silence.

If anyone noticed that seven students were missing from the Slytherin table, they didn't say anything.

Classes passed as usual. The first few hours, Harry was constantly expecting Dumbledore or Snape to burst in, demanding to know what he had done with the Slytherins. Fortunately, he'd had the foresight to take a calming draught before he began the operation, which helped considerably. And as the day wore on, he was more and more certain that he had gotten away with it.

At dinner, Harry had the feeling that Dumbledore and Snape were watching everyone more closely than usual, but he couldn't spend too much time observing them for fear that they would notice his unusual behavior. After all, these days he normally pretended they didn't exist.

By now, the professors had certainly noticed the missing students, but no mention of them was made. Instead, the meal went as usual, and soon, Harry was accompanying the rest of the Gryffindors up to their tower.

The trio spent a few hours working on homework in the common room, though Harry's mind was a million miles away. Finally, it was time for bed.

The other boys fell asleep quickly, aided by a subtly cast somnus charm. Once he was confident that his roommates were sound asleep, Harry sprung out of bed and raced to Timeland, entering the gym with his want already drawn, just in case the Draught of Living Death had already worn off. As he had hoped, all seven Slytherins were still under the draught's effects, lying in enchanted sleep.

Harry studied them closely. The Draught was supposed to be so effective that it suspended all bodily functions, even things like hair growth. This should mean that there would be no clues that the boys had been held in a time compression vault like this one. And without that crucial piece of evidence, it would be impossible to prove that he had been involved. After all, Harry had attended all of his classes today. The professors themselves were his alibi.

Pressing a button on an old recorder filled the room with the sound of screaming that Harry had recorded in preparation for tonight's event. After all, it was important to set the stage to ensure that his guests got the full experience. Malicious glee rose up in Harry as he dragged Malfoy to the first room. It was time for some real justice.

Draco Malfoy woke with a scream as cold water splashed all over his body. He looked down to see that he was wearing just his underwear. Trying to cover his pale, skinny body proved impossible, as his hands were tied behind his back.

"Draco Malfoy," a voice purred. He looked up to see a dark figure with a mask looking at him. There were no clues to the person's identity other than the voice and curves that made it clear he was looking at a female, probably a few years older than him.

"You've been a very naughty boy," the girl continued. Draco tried to stay resolute, but couldn't help the shiver that wracked his whole body as an agonized scream came from somewhere outside.

"A few of my comrades think that we should just cripple you all and be done with it, but, then again, you are just a little boy. We probably can't hold you fully accountable for the horrible things you've done. Can we?"

Draco shook his head, not trusting his voice.

"Do you feel bad about the things you did?"

He nodded his head frantically.

"Well then, I suppose I'll give you the chance to prove it." Now the girl sounded like she was smiling, but it didn't bring Draco any comfort. She waved a wand... Draco's wand, he realized, and the bands on his wrists disappeared.

"Over in the corner is a weight. Hold it in your right hand with your arm fully extended. If you can hold it up for five minutes, I won't do anything to punish you for half an hour. If your arm drops, however, I get to do whatever I want."

Some of Draco's despair must have shown through, for the voice instantly chided him, saying, "Now, now, this is more of a chance than you gave your victims. If you really want to, I'm sure that a strong pureblood such as yourself can hold up a little weight like that." The voice turned more sinister. "Or are you going to refuse my generous offer to avoid the punishment you so richly deserve?"

Swallowing deeply, the scared boy scrambled over to the corner and picked up the weight.

"Hold it out," the girl commanded.

Trembling, Draco did as instructed. A sob passed through his lips as he realized that there was no way he would last for the full time. He was struggling even now.

A soft ticking noise filled the room, and he realized that the girl had set a timer that was slowly counting down. His eyes remained fixed on the target, his breath becoming more and more labored as the seconds passed. His arm felt like lead. But he refused to give up.

To his horror, and, judging by the laugh, the girl's amusement, Draco lasted only 56 seconds. As the weight fell from his shaking hands, he turned to the girl, hoping to plead for mercy. She already had the wand out and pointing at him, however. His limbs were bound by an incarcerous.

"Now, I don't know if the Aurors could figure out who I am if I were to actually cast curses at you, so I'm not going to use magic for your punishment. Unfortunately for you, those muggles you despise so much have come up with some fairly creative ways of causing pain," she said as she lifted a large metal object that looked a little like a beater's bat. "Maybe after this, you'll be more dedicated when I give you the chance to avoid your next punishment."

Draco's screams filled the room, but that didn't stop his tormentor.

Marcus Flint awoke to find that he was hanging upside down, his arms and legs bound. A large tub filled with water lay beneath him. A small fire burned brightly in one corner, casting shadows throughout the room. He ignored the screams coming from outside the room, squirming to see what else was in the room. As he twisted, he could see a figure all in black observing him silently.

"Who are you?" he demanded angrily.

"Judge, jury, and, if you piss me off, executioner," a deep voice replied just as angrily.

"What do you want?" Marcus asked, a little more fear creeping into his voice now.

"You to suffer," the other boy replied. "I'm sure some of the others will try to give cute lectures on morality or something like that. Unfortunately for you, I'm not even going to try. You beat up muggleborns for fun. You're just like the Death Eaters that killed my mom. I've been waiting years for a chance for some vengeance. And since I can't get them, you'll have to do. I've got twelve hours. And I'm going to make the most of it."

The figure reached out and pulled a lever, and Marcus felt himself falling until his head and upper torso were submerged in the icy water. He held his breath for as long as he could, but finally it was too much. He tried to breath, but instead, pain filled him as the freezing water entered his lungs. He felt himself being pulled up out of the water. As his head broke the surface, he began coughing, gasping gratefully for breath as the water drained out of his lungs.

"That must have been unpleasant," the other boy said with mocking sympathy. "You must be cold now. Fortunately, I have ways of warming you up," he added as he pulled a glowing poker from the fire."

Philip Greengrass couldn't move anything besides his eyes, so tight were his restraints. He tried to ignore the screams that filled the room, but there was no escape. He could only watch as his tormentor prowled around the room, entering and exiting Philip's line of sight as he prepared something on the table along the wall.

"Snape always seems to laugh whenever you Slytherins mess up somebody else's potion. I thought this would be a good chance for you to see just how dangerous screwing with potions could really be," the boy, probably only a few years younger than Philip himself, explained with a broad smile visible even through the mask.

The boy flicked the contents of the bowl he was holding in Philip's directions, and the older Slytherin screamed as his skin burned where the potion had landed.

"That sounded painful," the boy said with enthusiasm. "Should we try a different one?"

As Harry deposited his final victim back in the gym, he took a moment to observe them all. The older ones (and Malfoy) had received more physical punishments, while the others had been tortured psychologically. Montague, for example, had been the recipient of what Dudley called "Chinese Water Torture", which had been surprisingly effective.

Regardless of what form the torment had taken, in all cases it had been effective. Each of the Slytherins had broken, pleading for mercy and howling in agony and despair. Harry allowed himself a moment to relish just how effective the whole operation had been. A little bit of Polyjuice and some carefully seeded comments giving clues about the various identities ensured that none of the boys suspected Harry Potter's involvement. Probably not something that Peter had intended for Harry to during their little plan to expose Pettigrew's crimes, but Harry was grateful nonetheless.

There was just one last thing to do before he took the Slytherins back to Hogwarts. He grabbed some paint and a brush. Let's see, Malfoy is the youngest, so he'll be the 'J', Harry thought.

After dumping his victims throughout Hogwarts, Harry returned to his dorm via the window, just as he had left so that there would be no record of him coming or going. It was strange to think back on what he had done. A month ago, he never would have imagined something like this, and yet, it was strangely cathartic. All the anger and rage that he had been feeling was gone, replaced by a sense of satisfied vindication and empowerment. The Slytherins had been punished for their crimes, and he would find some way to get Sirius Black out of his prison, whether the Ministry would cooperate or not.

The next morning at breakfast, hushed whispers filled the Great Hall. Nobody knew exactly what had happened, but everyone agreed that something significant had occurred last night. Of course, the fact that Aurors were standing along one wall, observing the students suspiciously provided plenty of proof.

Dumbledore stood to make an announcement, his face grave. "I must unfortunately inform you all of a most unacceptable event which occurred yesterday. While you all know, a group of misguided students were responsible for a series of attacks before they were discovered and punished. However, this was not enough for certain people, who brutally assaulted these students in the foolish notion that 'an eye for an eye' would somehow make things right."

He paused for a moment, looking severely at the students gathered in the hall. "They tortured the students most horrendously for hours, proving themselves to be no better than the people they claim to despise before leaving them in deserted classrooms around Hogwarts. Despite the horrible crimes they committed, these people clearly feel that that they are in the right, given the fact that they painted the letters of the word 'Justice' on the torsos of their victims." His voice hardened, and a chill seemed to sweep through the hall. "But this is not justice in any form. These students will be held accountable for their actions. The Aurors that you see will be questioning students throughout the day. I ask you to cooperate with them fully. Such a thing is not acceptable at Hogwarts."

Dumbledore took a moment to gather himself, then continued, his voice a bit calmer now. "To any members of this organization, I advise you to turn yourselves in. You will be given more leniency than if you do not. And if anybody has information about this group, which calls itself the 'Hands of Justice and Power', I ask you to inform the Aurors or myself."

Harry's brow furrowed in confusion. Hands of Justice and Power? Where did that come from? he wondered. He thought about it for a few more minutes as the Headmaster sat down and whispers once more filled the room.

Hands of Justice and Power. Hands… Justice… Power… H J P. Harry felt his blood run cold as he realized why Dumbledore was claiming that name for the group.