Chapter 6: New Years

It was a strange week that followed Iana's sudden arrival. Since she'd turned up on their doorstep, she'd said few enough words in Harry's presence that old Professor Kettleburn would have been able to count them on his fingers. The warm Christmas atmosphere had evaporated almost instantly, though the yearly visit to the Dursleys had also been cancelled. That, at least, was some kind of karmic balance, Harry reckoned.

Still, with Iana Malfoy in the house, maybe a visit to the Dursleys would have been less awkward. Harry had no love for Aunt Petunia's clucking, Uncle Vernon's mildly terrified glaring, or Dudley's clumsy attempts to strike up a conversation about boxing at every available opportunity, but at least two thirds of them made noises of some sort.

Iana's presence made it feel like the place had become haunted by a particularly surly ghost. Most of the time she stayed locked away in the guest bedroom, and the about only times she appeared were meal times. Even then, she restrained herself to the words 'fine', 'yes', 'no', and 'okay'. As a result, Harry hadn't been able to get anything more out of her about whatever it was that had happened at Christmas.

He hadn't been able to get anything from his parents either, with them both quickly changing the subject, or giving him some minor chore to do in lieu of giving him answers. Sirius had looked pained about the whole thing the few times he'd visited, but even he hadn't said anything.

Even Peter, who was generally terrible at keeping secrets, hadn't given Harry anything to work with, though in his case that was because he supposedly had some kind of family emergency, and Harry had barely seen anything of him since Iana's arrival.

It wasn't until New Year's Eve that Harry had been able to get anything more than he already knew from his parents.

"Look, Dad, I'm going to be leaving Hogwarts in a few months. I'm not a kid any more!"

James glanced over at Lily, who had a strained look on her face, and sighed. "We know that Harry, but look at how you reacted to everything before. Are you really sure you want to know?"

"No matter how old you get, you'll still be our son," said Lily, her voice sounding a little sad. "Is it so bad that we want to protect you from everything that's happening as long as we possibly can?"

"I know that," said Harry, running a hand through his hair as he spoke. "I do. But there's a difference between protecting me, and leaving me completely clueless when some fucking psycho comes to kill me."

"Language," said Lily. There wasn't much fire to it though, more like a reflex.

"We were going to tell you before you went back," James admitted. "We just wanted you to be able to enjoy the holidays a bit is all."

"I dunno. I feel like not knowing might be worse."

Neither James nor Lily seemed to be convinced by that, but in the end it didn't really matter. They were going to tell him, whether they thought he'd like it or not.

"Lucius Malfoy is dead," said James eventually.

Harry frowned "I already knew that."

Despite the seriousness of the moment, James grinned. "Yes, Effie told us you'd interrogated Iana on the night she arrived."

"I didn't interrogate her!" said Harry, realising belatedly that that sounded very defensive. "She just came out with it."

"Hmm." The look on James' face made it clear he didn't believe a word of it. "Anyway while you know that Malfoy died, I'm not sure you really understand what it means."

"Well, it's bad, obviously," said Harry, not understanding what his father was getting at. "Malfoy was supposed to be doing a lot to fight against Voldemort, right? Like getting the Ministry ready and such?"

James shook his head gravely. "It was much more than that. When Voldemort fell, Malfoy scooped up a lot of his supporters. You can understand why, right? His daughter had apparently defeated the greatest dark wizard in living memory, and she did it while she was an infant. He was influential before that all happened. Afterwards, he had the political clout, and popular support, to trump even Dumbledore."

Still not really comprehending, Harry nodded.

"He used a lot of that influence to tie a lot of the old suspected Death Eaters to him personally," James continued. "Claimed they'd all been under Imperius like him, and kept them out of Azkaban. The Minister was well in his pocket, and a lot of the Department Heads too. He got his allies appointed to Hogwarts. Even got some of the classes changed to conform more to his own… preferences."

"Now he's dead," Lily interjected, "but all his supporters are still around. And now they've got no-one to hold them back from supporting Voldemort like they did the first time around. They're in a better position now, politically, than they were last time."

The full ramifications struck Harry like a lightning bolt. "You mean with Malfoy dead, Voldemort basically controls the whole Ministry already?"

James sat back, and for the first time Harry saw the fatigue and worry he'd been concealing displayed openly.

"We've been doing what we can. Minister Fudge wasn't much more than a useful idiot for Malfoy, but at least he was no Death Eater. We're trying to get Madame Bones installed as interim Minister, but it's not easy. Seems like every one of Malfoy's cronies is firmly back in Voldemort's camp, and they're everywhere."

A new voice joined the conversation. "What if I came out in support?" Iana asked from her position at the door. Harry wasn't sure how long she'd been listening in, but it had obviously been long enough to know what was going on.

"You don't need to do that," said Lily softly. "This isn't your problem to solve any more than it is Harry's."

Iana scoffed. "Don't I know it? But the fact remains. At least some of Father's influence should now be mine. Whether I use it or not seems unlikely to alter the Dark Lord's opinion of me."

"It certainly wouldn't hurt," said James thoughtfully. "A letter to the Prophet, perhaps?"

"It's worth a try, I suppose," Lily agreed before turning to Iana. "I know it's a lot to ask, so soon after what happened, but do you think that's something you could do?"

"Of course," said Iana, sounding insulted. "I'll get started on it right away."

"Thank you, dear," said Lily, though Harry was pretty sure Iana ignored her completely as she swept back out of the room.

For some reason, that made Harry feel even worse. Iana Malfoy was doing more to help than he was!

"Then what can I do?" he asked, his gaze flipping between his parents in turn.

"Look, Harry, I know it's hard," said James with a sigh, "but the most important thing is that you don't draw attention to yourself. This isn't the kind of fight any of us can win by magic alone."

Fat lot of help that was. What, did he expect Harry to just hide away until Voldemort dropped dead? "Well someone's going to have to," Harry pointed out. "He's not just going to stop, is he?"

"Dumbledore will work something out," said James with a confidence that Harry really didn't share. "You know that he was always the only person Voldemort ever feared."

They'd just have to hope that that was enough.

o-o

"So, you two have a good Christmas?" Neville asked, as Harry and Effie bustled into the cabin he'd managed to lay claim to.

Harry and Effie caught each other's eyes. By common agreement, Iana and the Potters had decided to say nothing at all about her visit over the break. Not only would it have painted a target on the Potters' collective backs, but it was obvious that the only way Iana was going to be able to avoid Voldemort was if he didn't know where to find her.

"It was fine," they both said simultaneously.

Neville gave them a funny look. "That was weird. Are you two okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, we're fine," said Harry quickly, managing to get there before Effie. "Christmas was fine. Everything is fine." He winced as Effie gave his shin a subtle but firm kick.

"Right," said Neville, clearly not buying it. "So it's all fine, then?"

"Yep." Harry took a seat next to where Effie had settled herself in the corner by the window.

There was a lengthy awkward silence, only broken when Harry asked, "How about you? Good Christmas?"

Neville shook his head wearily. "Mate, don't even ask. I didn't think Uncle Algie could get more bonkers, but apparently he did. And then Mum and Dad ran off on Christmas Day because of what happened at Malfoy Manor. Had to spend the rest of the holiday with just Uncle Algie and Aunt Enid and Gran. I swear, if I had to listen to another one of his made up stories…" He trailed off into incomprehensible muttering.

"Oh, so did they tell you what happened?" Effie asked, all bright-eyed interest.

"Not much more than they told us in the papers," said Neville. "Seems the Occamies came home to roost and he got done in by some of his old friends."

"That's it?" Harry pressed. Did they really not know that it had been Voldemort?

Something about how Harry had asked his question seemed to tip Neville off, and he narrowed his eyes. "Is there something more?" he asked, the words slow and suspicious. "Mum and Dad were arguing about something every time I saw them, but they always shut up as soon as they noticed me. Did your parents tell you something more?"

"No, no! Nothing more," said Harry quickly. "It's just— well, it all seems a lot of fuss if it's all just that, isn't it?"

"Mate, it was Lucius Malfoy," said Neville, as if he was pointing out the blindly obvious which, in all fairness, he was. "He had his greasy tendrils in pretty much everything. With him gone, who's going to be the one pulling Fudge's strings? I heard they're already planning on giving him the boot."

"What about Iana Malfoy?" Effie asked innocently. Harry had always known she had a sneaky streak a mile wide, but she still impressed him sometimes.

"She—" Neville paused and frowned. "Actually, I don't know? Didn't hear Mum or Dad say anything about her. Papers aren't saying she's dead though."

"Well that's good, anyway," said Effie with the slightest of grins in Harry's direction. Harry tried to cover the chuckle that escaped as him clearing his throat.

The byplay didn't go unnoticed. Neville narrowed his eyes again. "You two do know something, don't you? I knew Mum and Dad were hiding something!"

"Who's hiding what now?" Seamus arrived in a flurry of bustling activity. Quite how it was possible for him to make so much noise just entering the compartment and sitting down, Harry had no idea. "Well, what's the skinny?"

"Our parents," said Harry, quickly heading off any more targeted lines of enquiry. "About what happened over summer."

Seamus quickly sobered. "Bad business, that," he said seriously. "Me Da reckons there's way more to it than the paper's saying. No way Rosier could have broken into the Ministry alone and killed Malfoy like the papers said. Said it stinks of a cover-up. Mum just about had kittens." He raised his voice into a harsh shriek that Harry knew bore almost no similarity to his mum's actual voice. "That poor Iana! First her mother, now her father too. That poor girl. You should make sure she's okay!" His voice returned to normal. "Yeah, nah, thanks Mum. I value my tackle more than that."

"Can you imagine what she'd do if you went up to her and tried to give her a hug or something?" Neville asked, grinning. "She'd hex you so hard you'd be pissing teeth."

For some reason that was far funnier than it had any right to be. Harry caught his sister's eye and they both descended into uncontrollable chuckles.

"Here, what's got you two creasing," asked Dean as he entered only seconds before the train began pulling from the station. He looked at Neville and Seamus. "What's gotten into them?"

"I'm starting to think it might just be a Potter thing," said Neville with a long suffering shake of his head. "Dad always did say they were mad."

"Smart man, your Da," said Seamus with mock seriousness.

Finally, Harry and Effie's laughter started to recede, and Harry had to wipe a tear from his eye as he did so. As conversation moved on to Dean's drunken holiday escapades, he found himself smiling sadly.

There was no way he was going to ruin their happiness by telling them everything he knew. He resolved to try to protect them any way he could.

The following morning, the papers delivered news of a mass break-out from Azkaban, supposedly masterminded by Evan Rosier. Still not a word of Voldemort.

o-o

"This is where you've been hiding away!" said Dean in the voice of one who spent very little time in the Hogwarts Library. If he wasn't careful he'd bring Madam Pince running in no time.

It was three weeks after the start of the new term, and Harry had spent all of his free time in the library. If he was being honest with himself, he wasn't really sure what he was hoping to achieve. It wasn't like he was going to be able to make any kind of meaningful inroads on the advantage Voldemort held over him by just reading books. If the rumours were true, Voldemort had spent decades exploring the world, and learning obscure magics, or even uncovering forgotten spells.

At first he'd been regarded with some suspicion by the usual denizens of the library's dusty stacks. Harry was sure Pince had spent most of the first week hiding just around the nearest corner, ready and waiting for whatever it was she imagined he was about to get up to.

Harry frowned and looked up over the book he was reading, an incredibly dull treatise on the nature of subconscious magic that he wouldn't have bothered with at all if not for the fact that the foreword had claimed it to be a key to some of the most powerful magics known. So far, Harry hadn't seen any evidence of them. "Ssshh! You'll bring Pince down on me."

Unexpectedly, Dean actually lowered his voice. "We've been wondering where you went," he said in hushed tones as he pulled up a chair. "Looked everywhere!"

It said something that even after looking everywhere for wherever it was Harry was spending his free time, it had still taken three weeks to decide to look in the library. Maybe that wasn't completely fair; Harry had deliberately chosen an out-of-the-way little nook in order to avoid too many distractions.

"Well, you found me," Harry replied. "What did you want?"

For a moment, Dean looked at him like he'd grown a second head. "Mate, we just want you to hang around with us. Ever since the news of the break-out you've barely spent any time with us. You missed an amazing snowball fight last week. Managed to get Smith right in the—"

Harry cut him off. "That's great." With everything that was going on snowball fights didn't seem like an especially pressing concern. "Thing is, I've got a lot of stuff to get caught up on here."

"You're having a laugh, right? You're in danger of turning into Hermione."

Harry set his book down with a thump that seemed to linger far too long in the otherwise quiet library.

"You realise that this is pretty much it?" Harry asked, his exasperation no doubt leaking into his words. "In a few months we'll be out there in the world with all those released Death Eaters. No Hogwarts to protect us, no Dumbledore to keep us safe. How are snowball fights going to prepare you for that?"

Dean frowned, clearly taken aback. "That's months away, though. They're already saying they managed to catch up with some of them. They'll all be locked away again by the time we're out of this place, so why would we need protecting?" Something dawned on him. "Wait, does this have something to do with whatever it was old Dumbledore had to say to you on your birthday? You went weird after that too. You do know he's mad, right?"

"I bloody wish," Harry muttered more to himself than Dean. Despite his frustration, he was still reluctant to bring the happy ignorance of his friends an end. Worried though they might be at the thought of Death Eaters running amok, that was nothing compared to what they'd feel if they knew it was Voldemort leading them. "Look, you just go. I'll try to make more time for you, yeah?"

"Aww come on, don't be like that," said Dean. "You should finish up. Seamus wants to sneak into the kitchens to see if they can make boxty for us to try. You want to come?"

"Sorry," said Harry honestly. He really was too. "I have to do this. You'll understand why soon enough."

Harry returned to his book, flicking it open once more at the last page he'd read and ignoring Dean's downcast look. Eventually, amid much shuffling and sighing Harry was left alone again. It wasn't for long, however.

"You still haven't told them?"

It was Iana. While she looked much better than she had on Christmas, there were still telltale bags under her eyes, and her hair was just a little more fraying around the edges than she would have tolerated previously.

"No," said Harry as he returned his gaze to the interminable ramblings of Odiosis Auctor.

"Why?"

Harry sighed. "Have you told your friends?" he asked pointedly.

The laugh that question prompted was distinctly sardonic. "Didn't you notice? I don't have those any more. Not that they'd need it, anyway."

Folding the book closed once more, Harry looked up properly. "Can't say I did," he lied. She'd even lost her permanent shadows, though if it really was Crabbe's dad who had let Voldemort in, he could hardly blame her for that. Rumours claimed she'd ended up in more than one fight with other members of her house. Of course, none of them had had the same kind of training she'd gotten, so Harry figured whoever it was had gotten the short end of that stick. "Got better things to worry about these days, you know? Still, can't imagine it's much of a loss."

Iana folded her arms, and for a moment Harry was distracted by the effect that had. "You should tell them."

"Why do you care what I do, or don't do?" he asked pointedly.

"Does a Prophecy ring any bells?" she returned. "I might not know what it said, but I know it at least exists. Besides, everyone in Slytherin knows what's coming any day now. Don't you want those idiots you call friends to at least have a fighting chance?"

"No, really, what do you care? A few mudbloods and blood traitors less in the world probably doesn't seem so bad to you."

Iana glared at him. "Maybe it would, if I wasn't stuck being a blood traitor myself. In case it has escaped your notice, I'm the Dark Lord's main target. I'd rather the people on my side not be hamstrung by your victim complex."

"Oh, hoh? So you're on our side now?" Harry asked, his voice rising an octave. "What have you done to help, then? How did that letter go? Haven't seen it in the Prophet yet. Was it too painful to write nice things about the Headmaster?"

"Fuck off. I sent it and the Prophet just blanked me. I've done more than you'll ever do, Potter," Iana bit back. She pointed to the thin lightning bolt scar on her forehead, usually concealed beneath her long blonde hair. "Forget about this?"

"Please," Harry said, just about laughing at the idea. "I bet you can't even remember that."

"You are an utter arsehole, Potter!"

"You're a self-absorbed cunt, Malfoy!"

"Enough!"

Suddenly, all the wind went out of both their sails with the arrival of an incensed Madam Pince. "Enough, I say! This is a library, and no place for such foul language. Get out. Now!"

There was a moment of silence in which Harry glared daggers at Iana, though she gave as good as she got.

"Now, I said! Both of you!"

Harry swept up his bag and threw it over a shoulder before he stormed towards the exit. Pince could clear up the books he'd gotten out, the old bag. Behind him, he heard Iana trying to hold her ground.

"But Madam Pince, I—"

"Need to leave, just like Mr. Potter," said Pince, clearly in no mood to take any of Malfoy's posturing. "Now. Do not push me, Miss Malfoy. So help me."

After that point, presumably, Iana complied, but Harry found he didn't care. Who was she to tell him what to do? She'd just about made it her bloody mission to make his life at school as miserable as she could, all while her slimeball of a father had made it his mission to do the same for people like Remus, or even Harry's own mum.

Harry reached the hall, and suddenly realised he didn't know where to go next. The few seconds he spent deliberating meant that Iana very nearly collided with him as she too fled Pince's domain.

"What was that about, Potter?" she asked resentfully. "Unlike you, I actually used the Library."

Anger flared up once more. "Just where do you get off?" he asked as he whirled around. "Not enough that you got your whole family killed, is that it? Want to take a bite out of mine as well?"

The slap that followed took him completely by surprise. It wasn't especially forceful, but it was enough to completely derail his anger. Before he was able to regather his senses, Iana was gone. She shoved her way through the small crowd of onlookers, which Harry hadn't even realised they'd managed to collect, and ran off in the direction of one of the nearby staircases.

With the excitement seemingly over, the crowd started to drift away, though a few hung around long enough to have a bit of a snigger at Harry's expense. Finally, only one remained. Effie, and her face was set in an expression of puzzled surprise.

"What was that about?" she asked him once everyone else had gone their separate ways. They fell automatically into step as they walked the route back to the Gryffindor dorms.

"Urgh," Harry groaned as he pushed some errant strands of hair away from his face. "She's just a bitch. You can probably work out the rest."

Effie didn't look convinced. "That was a pretty nasty thing to say, though. How would you like it if you'd lost both your parents and someone threw it back in your face like that?"

"Are you actually taking her side?" There was no way he could have stopped the incredulous look he gave her. "Malfoy?"

Raised hands forestalled any rising ire, as she said, "No, no, no! I'm not taking her side, but bitch or not, it was still a bit harsh, don't you think?"

Harry really didn't want to think about that as he had a creeping feeling she might be right. "Whatever."

Effie grinned and bumped him with her shoulder. "Real grown up there."

"Yeah, yeah."

"I'm just saying, you seemed to be getting on okay with her at Christmas." Quite how Effie was able to switch gears so effortlessly, Harry would likely never understand.

"You're as bad as Dean and Seamus," said Harry, unable to conceal the ghost of a smile that drifted across his face. "I was completely bloody clueless, you know that."

"Still, it was a nice thing you did."

There was little else for Harry to do but shrug. "She's still a right cow."

"Right." She stayed quiet for a moment. "Are you going to apologise?"

Caught by surprise, Harry yelped, "What?"

Effie didn't respond, but then she didn't need to.

"I'd rather I never have to speak to her again," he grumbled.

"Yeah, well, sometimes we don't get what we want," Effie replied. Something about the way she said it made Harry think there was something she was itching to talk about.

Whatever that was, though, Harry never found out as before he could ask, Neville called out to them from one of the higher flights of the moving staircases they were walking beneath. "Oi, Potters!"

The sudden sound of his voice, loud in the otherwise fairly quiet hallway, caused Effie to jump. It took Harry a moment to locate the source.

"What is it?" he called back.

"Old Dumbledore wants to talk to you," said Neville, leaning precariously over one of the stone bannisters. "Was just going to drop my stuff and find you in the library. Have you been hiding away from us again?"

"Just trying to get ahead on my studying," Harry replied. It wasn't really a lie, after all. "Thanks for the heads up though. Did he say when?"

"Anytime now I think," said Neville.

Harry groaned. They were nearly back, and now he had to head all the way across to the Headmaster's office? "Alright. Cheers mate. I'll go now."

"Speak to you later, then," said Neville with a good natured wave. He glanced over at Effie. "Alright, Ef? Keeping him out of trouble?"

"Needs more than just me," said Effie with a sideways grin at Harry. "Got himself chucked out of the library."

Neville's appreciative chuckle was loud enough to carry down the height of the hall. "Nice one."

With a final ineffectual scowl at a self-satisfied Effie who merely waved goodbye while she rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet, Harry headed off in the direction of Dumbledore's office. As he walked, he couldn't help worrying about what the Headmaster had to say to him.

He really hoped it wasn't more bad news.

A/N: A big thank you to everyone who has reviewed.