Harry tugged at the collar of his new dress robes, pulling the clasp to the middle of his chest before flicking the sides back to shove his hands in the pockets of his jeans.
"Ron! Let's go! I can't be late today!" Harry called loudly. He leaned against the kitchen table where George sat fiddling with a prototype of his, his brows furrowed in concentration. He had decided to move into one of the spare bedrooms last weekend since he couldn't bear to move into the flat above the store yet, but also desperately needed to escape the claustrophobia of the empty Burrow.
"Hold your hippogriffs! I'm coming!" Ron bellowed back down the stairs. Heavy footsteps echoed through the house as he ran down the steps, followed by a dull crunch and a heavy onslaught of cussing. Ron stumbled into the kitchen a moment later, rubbing the side of his arm darkly.
"Did you pick a fight with the stairs again, Ronald," George asked absentmindedly without looking up. Harry smirked beside him and leaned off the table.
"Oh, shut it," he replied indignantly.
"If you stopped yelling profanities at the poor stairs, maybe they'd stop tripping you."
"Remind me why we let you move in here, again?" Ron asked haughtily while grabbing a handful of floo powder.
"'Cause he asked," Harry answered for him.
"What happened to not being able to be late today?" Ron asked annoyed, turning towards his grinning friend.
"I'm sure I can be a few minutes late. Got to use my fame for something, right?" Harry responded lightly while reaching in to grab some powder.
"And he chooses to use it to make fun of you for tripping down the stairs for the fourth time this week," George responded, turning in his chair to smile cheerfully at his younger brother.
"Precisely!" Harry stepped into the fireplace and swirled out of sight.
"This was only the third, George," Ron mumbled as he stepped in after him.
"Sure, 'cause that's a lot better." George shook his head and turned his attention back to the prototype in his hand while Ron followed his friend to the Ministry. The two friends made their typical walk to their lifts and dodged the few eager reporters waiting to catch one of them, or anyone else involved in the highly anticipated hearings that had begun the past week.
"Good luck," Ron muttered as a lift arrived.
"See ya," Harry replied. He stepped through the gold grates and waited nervously to be delivered to level ten at the bottom of the Ministry. His footsteps echoed ominously against the dark floors of the base level and he squinted slightly as his eyes adjusted to the dearth of light. The corridor had torches lining the hall whose flickering flames cast eerie shadows onto the shadowy surfaces. He walked down the corridor, ignoring the paths leading off of the main hall, and pulled open the door into courtroom ten: a room that he was far too familiar with.
The high benches surrounded the room and fluted marble pillars stood out against the dark stone. The fifty or so witches and wizards of the Wizengamot already filled the seats in their magenta and black robes, chatting lightly amongst themselves. Harry scanned the rows of seats, looking for a familiar face, but found none.
"Mr. Potter! Just in time! And it is so good to meet you at last!" a wizard exclaimed excitedly and approached him at a fast walk. "I must say that I've been hoping to run into you at the Ministry since I heard you started working here." He grinned broadly, exposing a missing tooth and a crooked smile, and grabbed Harry's hand enthusiastically.
"Er… hi. Nice to meet you too. Do you-"
"But I guess I'm never in the high enough floors to see you, since I'm just a messenger and attendant," he continued uninterrupted.
"Do you know where-"
"I'm Dawson, by the way. Douglas-"
"Dawson! Hi," Harry interrupted in turn. The squat man stopped instantly and rocked back and forth on his feet slightly. "Where am I supposed to be?"
"Right over here, Mr. Potter. Right over here." He led him to the one side of the circular room so that he was behind and slightly to the side of the three ominous chairs in the center that faced the Wizengamot. "You can sit anywhere in this section, and then Hawksworth will call you up when they're ready for your testimony."
"Testimony? I thought they just wanted to ask me questions?" Harry asked slightly frantically, wondering if they expected him to have something prepared.
"Yes, yes, they'll ask you questions, Mr. Potter. Hawksworth is very good at his-"
"Dawson!" A thin black man balancing a large silver hat on top of his head called across the room. He sat behind the podium and had slight scruffy gray stubble lining his chin. "We're ready. Bring them in."
"Right away, Mr. Hawksworth. And Mr. Potter has arrived, sir," he said, inclining his head slightly.
"Yes, I see that. Good morning, Mr. Potter. Thank you for coming," he said with a dry smile and amused voice. Dawson stood between them both at the bench railing, continuing to smile jovially. "Dawson…" He began with raised eyebrows, watching the shorter man mirthfully.
"Oh, right! Right!" He scurried out of the large circular room through the opposite door that Harry had entered. Harry walked up the two steps behind the thick railing and sat at the nearest seat on the hard wooden bench, ignoring the curious glances from the few other observers or those called forward to testify. Without thinking, he withdrew his wand from the loop on his thigh and began to tap it anxiously against his knee. Something boiled up in his chest when he saw those chairs wrapped in chains and the entire Wizengamot staring down at them over their noses. In his own experience, all the wrong people were tried in this room and made to feel insignificantly small by witches and wizards no better than themselves.
Sure, he nor the muggle-borns deserved being called or questioned here. But they deserved it. Didn't they? What did they deserve? Sure, they captured them and turned them in, but then she also saved his life.
His silent musings were cut short when the opposite door squeaked open and Dawson led the three in question with another attendant trailing behind them. Lucius Malfoy's long blond hair was matted and his skin sunken with none of his typical jewels adorning his hands. He raised his head up haughtily and marched straight for the furthest chair, refusing to avert his gaze. Narcissa's eyes however could not find somewhere to settle. She looked at her husband anxiously and then her son with a comforting hand on his shoulder that he ignored before she swept the room with her gaze, meeting Harry's eyes for half a second. Harry didn't look away, but continued to watch them curiously, waiting for the youngest Malfoy to do something akin to his usual self.
But, that's the thing. He didn't seem like his usual self. His platinum blond hair fell disorderly around his face and his shoulders were hunched over, completely void of any self-inflicted confidence. His eyes watched his feet move, as if in a trance, and he seemed genuinely surprised when he found himself at the edge of the closest chair. Lucius sat in his chair like a throne, his arms balanced on the sides and his legs crossed at the knees. Draco and Narcissa sat cautiously at the edge of the seats, waiting for the chains to bind them, which they did not. They clanked and shifted threateningly, but ultimately stayed limp against the chairs.
"Let's begin. Dawson, are you ready?" Hawksworth said somberly, rising to his full height behind the podium. Dawson sat at his side, a quill poised just above a fresh sheet of parchment
"Yes, sir!" His eager voice responded, not quite meeting the dark tone of the rest of the room.
Hawskworth cleared his throat while the Wizengamot shifted in their seats and straightened their backs to be as straight as planks. "Hearing on the seventeenth of October," he began in a clear and piercing voice while Dawson began to write immediately, "into crimes committed by the Malfoy family as well as participating in the illegal activities of the Death Eaters."
"Lead Interrogator: Hugh Hawksworth, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Court scribe: Douglas Dawson. Witnesses: Thorfin Rowle, incarcerated Death Eater; Pansy Parkinson, friend of the youngest accused…" Harry turned his head quickly to scan the benches around him until he found her. She sat at the opposite end of the semicircle, just behind the few reporters, and was leaning forward slightly trying to catch Draco's eye, but he refused to look anywhere but at the tops of his shoes. "And Harry Potter, Co-Head of the Auror Department and key figure against you-know-who and the Death Eaters."
"The charges for Lucius Malfoy are as follows. Bribery and threats within the Ministry, harassment, torture, and murder of multiple muggles, breaking the Statute of Secrecy on multiple ocassions, aiding the Death Eater army as well as you-know-who and participating in their illegal and horendous activites, and aiding in the capture of Mr. Potter."
"You are Lucius Malfoy, resident of Malfoy Manor?" Hawksworth stared down at the stubborn man sternly, and somehow, Lucius managed to look down upon him even though he was much higher.
"Yes," he said.
"Do you admit to the charges pressed against you?"
"Yes," he responded resolutely.
"And do you wish to give a statement clarifying any of the charges before we proceed with questioning?"
"No."
"Very well. The charges for Narcissa Malfoy are as follows." Hawksworth repeated the dry process again before turning to Draco.
"The charges for Draco Malfoy are as follows. Playing a significant role in the death of Albus Dumbeldore while cursing Miss Katie Bell, not present, with a dark object and poisoning Mr. Ron Weasley, Co-Head of the Auror Department, also not present, as a minor as well as aiding the Death Eaters and you-know-who, and hindering and attempting to stop Mr. Potter during the Battle of Hogwarts."
"Are you Draco Malfoy, resident of Malfoy Manor?"
"Yes," he replied softly, now peering anxiously at Dawson's scribbling quill.
"And do you admit to the charges pressed against you?"
"Yes," he said after allowing a small pause.
"And do you wish to give a statement clarifying any of the charges before we proceed with questioning?"
"Er… they're all… true, but I was sort of… forced into some." Hawksworth's face was impassive and his eyes narrowed as he looked at Draco.
"Very well, Mr. Malfoy. Let us start with you." Hawksworth clasped his hands in front of him and waited for Dawson's quill to catch up to the dialogue before continuing. "You say that you were forced into some of the charges. Explain."
"Oh… well, er… for the first three, I was just… following orders from the Dark Lord. And I aided the Death Eaters because… er…" he turned towards his parents. His mother was watching him carefully with wide sympathetic eyes and his father remained staring coldly at the assembled witches and wizards.
"Don't look at them. Answer for yourself," Hawksworth commanded sternly, drawing his attention back. "You aren't a minor anymore."
"Right, sorry… er…"
"Why did you aid the Death Eaters?"
"Oh, right. I helped them because my- my parents were Death Eaters, so everyone just assumed that I'd be one too."
"So you want the Wizengamot to believe that you attended multiple meetings, stood by you-know-who's side and did his bidding, following his orders, all because of peoples' expectations of you?" His voice was slow and while attempting to remain unbiased, his incredulousness showed through. Hawksworth leaned back in his seat and the benches surrounding him filled with hushed murmurs.
"Yes and because if I refused… he would just… kill me anyways." Draco looked down at his shoes again, unable to meet anyone's eye and Harry heard Pansy whimper slightly.
"And is your reason for attempting to stop Mr. Potter during the Battle of Hogwarts the same?" Hawksworth raised his eyebrows and Draco looked up, biting his lip nervously.
"Not really," he whispered. "I tried to stop him because I… I thought it would clear our family name… with Him. But, I regret it now, obviously. I wish I didn't… I… I wish I did a lot of things differently…" His voice trailed off and he stared at his fidgeting hands to distract himself. The Wizengamot murmured amongst themselves and the speed of the reporters' quills could not seem to keep up with the burgeoning details.
"If that is all you have to say, we will begin with the prepared questions from the Wizengamot." Draco nodded, still watching his hands in his lap. "When was the first Death Eater meeting that you attended?" They interrogated Draco, demanding fact after fact and Harry watched with interest as he squirmed to answer. From what Harry knew himself, he answered everything honestly, if somewhat embarrassedly, and added in pleas of remorse that made Harry himself shift uncomfortably in his seat. He had never heard nor seen his school adversary anything less than brimming with confidence and self-assurance. He leaned forward against the railing and his elbows grew red from the pressure of resting on the thick banister.
Hawksworth then turned to Narcissa and questioned her from their list. She sat primly, hands clasped and ankles crossed under the thick chained chair, as if she was at tea instead of being questioned by a court. She appeared more confident in what she said and answered honestly, but did not show as much remorse as her son. Although to be fair, she did have less to be remorseful of. It was, after all, her sole act of lying for Harry that allowed the Malfoys a trial with a chance.
When it was Lucius's turn, he sneered at Hawksworth while answering with a hint of pride as they recounted his past deeds. He attempted to show remorse in a few scant spots yet continued to recline in the seat with his long fingers curled over the edges of the chair's arms. And finally, the Wizengamot had no more questions for the three Malfoys and they began to call forward witnesses.
While listening to two other captured Death Eaters, three ministry employees, Pansy Parkinson, and three muggle-born witches and wizards recount their stories endlessly, Harry felt his eyes drooping and his concentration waning. But somehow, the Wizengamot were all still intently focused on the speaker, absorbing their every word while Harry desperately wanted to let his eyes shut and rest until they called him.
"The Wizengamot calls Mr. Harry Potter before the court." Dawson's voice pulled Harry forcefully out of his half-sleep and he stood abruptly behind the barrier. He stepped lightly down the two steps onto the courtroom floor and approached the center of the circle like he had seen the others do. The Malfoys' chairs were moved to the opposite side of the chamber, near where they had entered, and as he made his way to the middle, his eyes locked with Draco's. His face was impassive and stoic, yet his eyes gave him a glimpse of his hopeless and he slouched against the back of the seat.
"Are you Harry James Potter, current resident of number 12 Grimmauld Place?"
Harry tores his eyes away from Draco and faced Hawksworth. "Yes."
"With regards to Draco Malfoy, you witnessed all three of his attempts to murder Albus Dumbledore, did you not?"
"Yes, I did." Harry shoved his hands into his pockets and looked at Hawksworth curiously.
"Please describe the events as you recall them." And he did. His chest constricted uncomfortably, but he managed to briefly describe the walk back from Hogsmeade behind Katie Bell, Ron drinking the bottle of mead in Slughorn's office, and the Astronomy Tower that Harry typically consistently tries so hard to forget. He told the court about seeing him in the Room of Requirement while searching for the diadem, his family capturing them a few weeks before, and Draco's apparent hesitation to say it was him.
"And according to an article originally published in the Quibbler, after the Triwizard Tournament at the graveyard… you saw Lucius Malfoy arrive when He summoned them, correct?" Harry swallowed heavily and nodded. "Can you describe that incident?"
"If you read the article, then you already know what happened," Harry replied shortly, losing his patience quickly and simply not wanting to recount such events in great detail in front of so many.
"Hmm…" Hawksworth pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes at Harry. "All right, we will skip that question." Although, according to his displeased voice, this was not 'all right.' Harry was sure that if he wasn't who he was, he would not have dropped the question so easily.
"During the Battle of Hogwarts in the forest, you faked your own death…," Harry cocked his head to the side, an eyebrow raised waiting for him to continue. "Please explain Narcissa's role in this."
Harry looked to the side at the Malfoys. Lucius wore a stony expression filled with nonchalance, but Narcissa was biting her lip anxiously and kept a comforting hand on her son's shoulder. "Er… okay." Harry took a deep breath, steeling himself for revisiting the memory aloud. "I… landed, I guess and kept my eyes shut and tried not to move… And then, Voldemort told her to see if I was dead." Even though some people have started to say his name, at least half of the courtroom still collectively jumped. "I think he was scared and that's why he didn't come himself, but anyways… so then Narcissa came and asked if Draco was alive. I whispered yes and she told them that- that I was dead… that way she could find him back at the castle."
"So she lied to save Draco?" Hawksworth interrupted.
"Yes." Narcissa gripped her son's shoulder tightly. "But… I- I would be dead if she didn't lie to Voldemort." Harry added firmly, ignoring the collective jump again. Hawksworth nodded thoughtfully and leaned back while the rest of the Wizengamot automatically began to mutter to each other.
"One last question for you, Mr. Potter." Harry nodded to himself and brushed his untidy hair away from his face. "What do you see as an appropriate verdict for the accused?" Harry's eyebrows immediately furrowed curiously and he opened his mouth with no words coming out before closing it again.
"What?" He managed.
"What do you see as a proper verdict for them?"
"That's not… I… I'm not on the court. That's not my decision to make, sir," Harry replied, trying to keep a civil tone to hide his evident annoyance.
"You know the extent of their deeds best out of anyone here and if anyone deserves to have a say in what happens, it's you." Hawksworth smiled kindly at Harry and Harry stared blankly back.
"It doesn't matter if I deserve it, it's not my decision."
"The court is asking for your opinion, Mr. Potter."
"The court is supposed to hear facts and testimonies, not opinions, sir."
"Please answer the question, Mr. Potter. What do you-"
"Would you ask any other witness to decide a case?" Harry interrupted pointedly.
"You are not deciding the case, Mr. Potter. We just want to hear your opinion on the matter," Hawskworth answered heatedly, his voice rising slightly.
"Fine! I don't think that Draco or Narcissa deserve Azkaban!" Harry's chest heaved slightly and he risked a glance towards the Malfoy family. Draco was blatantly staring at him, his mouth wide open, and his mother had a careful hand covering her own mouth. "They didn't… they don't… they just don't deserve it." He finished simply.
"And as for Mr. Lucius Malfoy?"
"You're going to have to decide that yourself," Harry said firmly. He did not have it in him to condemn someone to Azkaban, no matter how much they might deserve it.
"Very well," Hawksworth replied calmly. "Thank you for your testimony, Mr. Potter. And on behalf of the whole Wizengamot, thank you for your sacrifices and bravery." He inclined his head with a smile towards the younger wizard and the rest of the Wizengamot smiled down at him too.
"Er…" His cheeks blushed profusely and he didn't bother turning to see the Malfoys' reaction. "Than… er… you're welcome," he stammered and quickly turned away from their prying faces and incidentally towards the few cameras at the other end. He gazed at his shoes and hurried back towards his seat in the surrounding benches. His heart was pounding against his chest widely and his skin was flushed feverishly, forcing him to stare at his hands and thoroughly ignore what was going on in the courtroom. Hawksworth had cast a large cloudy wall in front of the Wizengamot so that their conversations were hidden from the spectators. And from what the spectators could make out among the random disfigured shapes, the argument began to grow heated with several pointed fingers and flailing arms.
Some time later, after Harry had regained control over his tumbling emotions, the wall was whipped away like a tissue from its box and the Wizengamot witches and wizards were regally sitting in their benches once more. At some point when Harry was studying his hands, the Malfoys were moved back into the center of the courtroom, and they now waited, paler than ever, for the verdict.
"The Wizengamot has come to a decision regarding the Malfoy hearing," Hawksworth announced with an unreadable expression, sending Dawson scribbling in the seat just below and to the side of him. The entire room was cast in silence and held a collective breath of anticipation; even the reporters had allowed themselves a preemptive momentary reprieve of taking notes and pictures. Hawksworth cleared his throat importantly and evened out his papers against the table, before looking down at the Malfoys. "Draco Malfoy was found guilty of all accused charges and will pay a fine of three hundred and twenty thousand galleons as well as four years of community service to an approved organization benefiting muggles or muggle-borns of his choosing."
Draco's head collapsed into his open palms, presumably with relief, and his mother stroked his back slowly, her own face as white as a sheet.
"Narcissa Malfoy was found guilty of all accused charges and will pay a fine of two hundred and fifty thousand galleons as well as five years of community service to an approved organization benefiting muggles or muggle-borns of her choosing." Narcissa continued to rub her son's back and she reached out to grip her husband's hand and she hung her head.
"Lucius Malfoy was found guilty of all accused charges and will pay a fine of four hundred thousand galleons and will serve," Narcissa's head snapped up, "five years in Azkaban followed by two years of community service to an approved organization benefiting muggles or muggle-borns of his choosing." Lucius's lip curled into a sneer, but his legs tensed dramatically against the chair legs and he gripped the edge of the arms as if needing the support.
"This concludes the hearing." Hawksworth absentmindedly passed his stack of papers to Dawson who added them to his pile, and the Wizengamot sporadically rose from their seats and turned towards each other, already deep in conversation. The three Malfoys were escorted out of the courtroom single file, Narrcissa clutching onto Lucius's arm and whispering fervently into his ear. Pansy had risen from her seat and was bouncing on her toes, trying to catch Draco's eyes, but he continued to watch his feet move in a daze. She sunk down again in clear disappointment once the door shut behind them and he gave no notice of her.
Harry stood cautiously, waiting for someone to tell him he was still needed, and when no one did, he walked slowly to the door.
"Mr. Potter! Mr. Potter!" a reporter called eagerly, hastily grabbing his notebook and stumbling through the rows to reach him. "Just a quick word if you please! We would love to-" Harry pretended not to hear him and thrust open the door, the reporter's voice quickly became blocked by the heavy wood. He walked briskly towards the lift at the end of the corridor and immediately became trapped by his thoughts mulling the result of the hearing over in his head. Much to his dismay, the reporter caught up to him again and was able to slip into the lift before the doors shut.
"Mr. Potter!" he heaved, clearly out of breath and he pushed his hat up his head slightly. "What-"
"I'm sorry, I'm not really in the mood to talk about the hearing," he interrupted and watched the small numbers appear on the side of the door announcing what floor they were on. They seemed to be moving much slower than usual.
"Oh! Of course, of course. Then, how are things going in the new and improved auror department?" He asked in one breath, quill poised above the empty page already.
"Fantastic," he said dryly, eyeing the blinking number 5.
"And how are you combatting the understaffing of the department?"
"We're recruiting." The five changed to a four.
"Any comments on your recent capture of the two alleged Death Eaters?"
"No." Three, almost there.
"How about your life at home. Are you enjoying your free time?"
"Very much so, excuse me." Harry pushed passed him thankfully right as the three switched into a two and the lift doors opened. Before he could breathe out another word, Harry had disappeared down the corridor and pushed through the doors into the auror headquarters.
Once inside the privacy of their office, Harry removed his cloak and flung it haphazardly over the back of his chair.
"How was it?" Ron asked, carrying over some parchment to his desk.
"It was… fine, I suppose," he shrugged. "I'll tell you and George about it tonight. I still don't really know how to feel about it." Ron stared at him blankly, parchment in one hand.
"Okay." He approached his desk cautiously and watched Harry let out a breath.
"How's it goin' here?" Harry asked, eyeing the list in his hand.
"I think I figured out how to organize these subdivisions. What do you think?" He dropped the stack onto the desk and pushed himself onto the surface so that one leg was scraping the carpet. The top parchment had the aurors' names under three titles: intel, action, and prevention. The sheets under it listed each of their preferences and ranking.
"I don't know if having Bayman and Goldsmith both in action is a good idea," Harry said, thinking of their last encounter together.
"Yeah, I thought of that too, but both of them aren't excited about the other two options. Look at their preference sheet." Harry pulled them out from the stack and saw both had ranked action as their top choice. Goldsmith wrote 'if I had to choose a second, I'd pick intel, but I'd really prefer not to. Also, is it possible to be in a different subdivision than Bayman?' And Bayman didn't bother to rank the other two options, but did add 'I don't think that Goldsmith and I can work in the same subdivision. She is far too hot-headed, and I honestly don't think she would be good in the action subgroup.'
"Well… that's… a problem," Harry said, reading over their words again.
"Yeah…," Ron agreed, dragging out the word.
"What do you think?"
"I think that I'd rather they stay as apart as possible. But… if we pick one to move to their second choice, we'd be accused of playing favorites." Harry nodded thoughtfully, and looked up at him. "It's kind of a lose-lose situation."
"Seems like it. Maybe… maybe we just keep them both in action for now and… and tell them to work it out otherwise they'll both be moved to different subdivisions?"
"Sure. That could work."
That Evening
"Hang on. So you're telling me that they got off with no time in Azkaban?" George asked incredulously, waving his spoon around to emphasize his point.
"Lucius got a few years, both Narcissa and Draco didn't," Harry answered, his own spoon clattering into the bowl of soup Kreacher had made for them.
"Wow," Ron said. "I thought they'd all get a year or two at least."
"Really? She did end up kind of switching sides at the end…"
"Yeah, but the Ministry is keen to show that they're being tough on Death Eaters and they are desperate to show that they've changed and all that, Harry. Other Death Eaters got years for barely being in their circle and they were… they were right in the middle of it!" Ron exclaimed, clearly exasperated.
"She did save my life," Harry said quietly.
"I thought that that might get her off with just a year or two, but still. How did that somehow save Draco's skin? I know, I know, Harry… he was remorseful, you already said," George filled in with a wave of his hand. "But still… what changed with them of all people?"
"Well…," Harry squirmed uncomfortably in his seat. "They did ask me for my opinion after my testimony."
"Harry… you didn't…," Ron said, his eyes open wide.
"They said they wouldn't decide the case based on my opinion!" Harry defended himself. "So, I said that he and Narcissa didn't deserve Azkaban but I… I didn't say anything about Lucius."
"You did…," George added in awe. "And I here I was thinking you just used your fame to make fun of Ron for falling down the stairs."
"Harry… they were Death Eaters and… he… he was kinda responsible for killing Dumbledore and definitely responsible for poisoning me and Katie," Ron said softly.
"Dumbledore planned his own death," Harry retorted firmly. "And… he was… forced into some of the other stuff in a way," he finished, less sure of himself.
"But… he was terrible every school year," Ron pushed with a sideways glance at his brother.
"He was an arrogant, entitled, prejudiced bully. But he doesn't deserve Azkaban." Harry filled his mouth with a spoonful of steaming soup to try and end that particular conversation. Ron shook his head wordlessly and tore off a piece of bread to shove into his mouth.
"Oh, Harry…," George said with a wistful grin. "You soft-hearted war hero." Harry looked up at him with a self-indulgent smile and shook his head.
"How's the shop comin' along, George?" Harry asked, fingering his glass of water.
"Very smooth and subtle change of conversation there, Mr. Potter. You really have a way with words," George contemplated, ignoring Harry's eye roll. "But, it's going quite well, actually. I rehired Verity and we're thinking that we can reopen in a month and a half or so. Somewhere around early December."
"That's great! Just in time for the holiday rush!" Ron smiled eagerly.
"Exactly, little bro!" George slapped him on the shoulder cheerfully. "Hoping everyone'll get excited by the reopening and buy way more than they need!"
"Cheers!" Ron raised his glass and Harry added his own.
That Friday
Harry found himself strolling through the Hogwarts grounds, covered in cloudy shadows, and he pulled his collar higher to his chin. It was so peaceful when it was empty: no students milling about, most creatures hiding from the cold, and the staff themselves staying as close to their fireplaces as possible. With just the bright amber leaves dotting the ground and perfectly still plants for company, Harry found his worries slipping from his mind and he found himself smiling, even though the movement prickled his dry cheeks.
"Potter? Is that you?" A familiar voice called through his silent bliss. He turned to see a thin figure striding briskly towards him.
"Hello, Professor," he waved her over to him.
"What are you doing outside? It's cold to the bone!" McGonagall reprimanded quickly, eyeing his rather flimsy jacket.
"I could ask you the same thing." She stopped suddenly, her face lined with disapproval, before she shook her head and fell into step beside him.
"You used to watch your tongue around me."
"And then you hired me and can't give me detentions anymore," Harry said grinning widely.
"I could always fire you," she mused, although they both knew that would never happen for more reasons than one.
"Yeah… okay."
"What are you doing out here?" she insisted.
"Well, the Head Girls are all busy doing something Head Girl-ish, and I didn't want to brave the Great Hall alone," he replied honestly.
"The Great Hall scares you now, does it?"
"When I'm alone, yes. After the article about the Malfoy case, everyone thinks I'm… I don't know… even more…"
"Heroic? Pure? Altruistic?"
"Exactly. I've been getting even more attention and staring and reporters flocking me and… yeah… just wanted some alone time." She nodded and they headed up the steps back into the castle.
"I did read the article," she began carefully. "And I must say, what you said when they asked for your opinion was-"
"Don't even bother telling me it was naive and stupid. I've heard that from way too many people lately," he interrupted shortly.
"Don't interrupt me, Potter," she chided. "I was going to say that it was exactly what your parents would have done." Harry looked at her quickly and her thin lips curved into a soft smile. "Both of them would have done the same." They walked in silence and Harry mulled this over, not really paying attention to where his feet took him.
"What would you have said?" he finally asked as they stepped onto the bottom stair behind the gargoyle guarding her office.
"I… I would have said the same about Draco, then again, I'm biased since he was a student of mine. I never want to see a student of mine carted off to prison."
"Well, I'm biased too, but that didn't stop them from asking."
"No. But anyone with your bias would have condemned him straight to prison. Staying level-headed and compassionate is what helped win this war, and it was a remarkable thing to do," she said kindly, holding out a tin of biscuits without pause. "He's in your debt now, as is Narcissa." McGonagall smiled warmly and Harry smirked in spite of himself.
"What?" she asked, brows furrowed immediately.
"That's almost word for word what Dumbledore told me after my third year." McGonagall watched him blankly. "I was upset that I let Pettigrew escape instead of just killing him then and there, and he told me that it would pay off in the end because he was in debt to me."
She nodded slowly. "And did it?"
"I suppose so, yeah. He let Ron and I escape from the Malfoys' basement and then the hand that Voldmort made him strangled him to death."
"Yes… well… let's hope for a happier end this time," she managed, recovering from the shock of his blunt summary.
"I hope so," Harry agreed, nibbling on the corner of his favorite shortbread biscuit. After a moment of comfortable silence, she spoke again.
"How are your classes going? From what I hear, you're a sure favorite among students."
"Oh, it's great! I love it, really." They talked lightly, ignoring the clock wholeheartedly, as minutes slipped by quicker than seconds until the sound of a loud clang erupted through the castle, announcing the start of class in a few minutes.
"Damn," Harry cursed and stood immediately.
"Off you go, Potter," she said with a smile and he was already halfway out the door.
"See you, Minnie!" he shouted over his shoulder and he sprinted down the revolving steps and through the corridors towards his classroom where his students were waiting. He skidded around a corner, eyes focused on the path ahead, and he completely missed three students waving at him with amused grins.
"Old habits die hard, I suppose," Ginny commented watching Harry skid around the corner at a sprint and she let her hand fall back to her side.
"It's good to see authority hasn't changed him," Luna added with a wistful grin.
"I wonder what he was up to," Hermione said beside them, her head cocked to the side as he sprinted around the next corner and out of sight.
"Probably saving the day or something," Ginny suggested with a smile. They turned as one and stepped into the classroom door closest to them. "Did you hear what he said at the Malfoy hearing?
"I'm not even surprised," Hermione said, dropping her book bag onto an empty table.
"Nor am I." Luna brushed aside a stray lock of her hair so that her earrings dangled jauntily. "He's much too good of a person to send someone to Azkaban."
"No matter how much they deserve it," Ginny added with a scowl. Hermione opened her mouth but shut it promptly when Professor Albright began his lesson at the front of the class.
I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Get ready for the next chapter 'cause it will have some cute relationship development! Please please please leave some reviews. They always make my day!