Chapter Twenty.
A week later, on a cold December day, Harry was back again at McGonagall's Office for his third session with Marcus Barnaby. The stone gargoyle that guarded the Office moved slowly aside when Harry muttered: 'Ferret fur!', as it always did, but when Harry came to the final set of doors at the top of the stone staircase, they remained shut.
'Professor?'
There wasn't a response. Feeling slightly bewildered, Harry knocked on the door and called out once again. He was quite certain he could hear noises from the other side of the door. People quietly talking, perhaps?
'Professor, I can hear you. What's going on?'
There was a moment of silence, and then the door opened. Professor McGonagall was standing in the doorway, her face stern yet apologetic. 'There will be no more sessions, Potter.'
'What, why?'
Harry wasn't exactly jumping for joy at the thought of having to live through his vision again… but he believed that the exercise was useful nonetheless. It was getting him somewhere, at least.
'Mr Barnaby has… advised against it,' McGonagall said. 'We will contact you later.'
The door shut before Harry could utter another word. Confusion overtook him, and soon frustration followed. He knocked on the door, loudly. 'Professor, with all due respect, but I have to do this.'
Silence.
Harry knocked again, even louder.
'Mr Potter!' McGonagall's voice from within the Office dripped with indignation. Harry knew that if he were still a student, he'd be in big trouble. 'Mr Barnaby and I have matters to discuss, and you will-'
'Is he there?!' Harry called out. He felt suddenly angry at the realisation that Marcus was hiding from him, and that he and Professor McGonagall were conspiring to keep him in the dark and, quite literally, locked out.
At first there was only more silence. Then: 'I am here, Harry.'
'Marcus!' Harry looked at the wooden surface before him, feeling a sense of dread rising from the pits of his stomach. 'Marcus, what's happening? Why won't you let me in? Why can't we do-'
'It's for your own safety, Harry. Please-'
This angered Harry even more. My safety?! Countless times throughout his life, adults had denied him information in order to keep him 'safe', but Harry had long come to understand that there wasn't such a thing as 'safe' for him in this life. As such, whatever it was, no matter how awful, it was always better to be aware.
'Marcus. Don't lie to me,' Harry said, and anger radiated from his voice. 'What's going on?'
Silence, and more silence, and the seconds ticked away.
Harry banged on the door using his fist, now. He felt almost furious. 'I'm not a child! Tell me-'
The door flung open. Professor McGonagall and Mr Barnaby stood by the desk, looking at Harry with a peculiar mix of disapproval and concern.
Harry stepped inside. 'I need to do this session.' He looked them both in the eyes, willing them with his mind. 'I need to do this, alright? I need to know what to look out for!'
'Harry.' Marcus stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on Harry's arm in an attempt to calm him. 'We understand how important this is. We do.' He paused a moment, glancing momentarily over his shoulder at McGonagall. 'But… we've found out something… and Professor McGonagall and I first need to sort out what it means, exactly. Until we know how to proceed, we can't responsibly-'
'What have you found out?' Harry demanded.
'We can't-'
'Tell me.'
'Harry, it isn't safe-'
'Nothing is bloody safe!' Harry exploded.
'Mister Potter!'
Harry ignored McGonagall's shocked countenance. 'Don't you understand?' he continued angrily. 'Nothing has ever been safe for me. Whatever it is that you've found, I assure you I can handle it!'
Marcus looked back again at Professor McGonagall, clearly pondering what to do, though McGonagall said nothing and only sat at her desk with a grave look on her face. At last, Marcus sighed in defeat. 'Last time, during our session… I saw something that you didn't.'
Harry remembered the look on Marcus' face as he hurried Harry from the Office last week. 'Tell me,' Harry said immediately.
The wizard sighed again. 'You were there. You will be there. During the attack.'
Harry's heart sank. His mind raced through the vision, looking for clues that would place him there during the attack. He didn't see any, and he didn't understand. Slowly, as he thought the situation over, despair made way for bewilderment, and finally for disbelief. 'H-how…' he started, and then followed with: 'If I'm there… why aren't I doing anything?' Harry recalled Hermione's scream and the roar that followed, and swallowed deep. 'It doesn't make any sense…'
'We don't know.' Marcus fidgeted for a moment with the ring around his thumb, studying it as if it would give him the answers he needed. When he looked back up at Harry, he looked wearier than Harry had ever seen him.
'The thing is, Harry… that the point likely isn't Hermione.'
'What?'
'You are important to our world, Harry, do you understand? You've transcended your humanity and become a symbol. Indeed, you represent the triumph of good over evil, the safety of life as we know it.'
Harry frowned.
'You must understand this, Harry, and consider that Hermione isn't any of these things.'
'What are you-'
'For heavens' sake!' McGonagall burst out, and she jumped from her chair, looking from Marcus to Harry with sudden fire in her eyes. 'The attack is an attempt on your life. Not Miss Granger's. Yours. She represents, if you will, the bait.'
Harry, for a moment, considered that McGonagall and Barnaby were joking. But as the seconds passed and no one burst out laughing, he began to realise the sense of it, and he felt a crippling headache form between his brows.
'But… why?'
'You've angered lots of people, Harry. You may have defeated the Dark Lord, may have scattered his followers, may have aided in the arrest of many of them, even… but the madness is still there. They still have cause to kill you.'
Harry swallowed and felt suddenly unsteady. As if the Office could read his mind, a chair scooted from its position at McGonagall's desk towards Harry, and Harry sat down slowly. Painfully familiar images flashed through his mind. Blood. Death. War. A sharp stabbing sensation shot through his heart at the realisation: It's not over.
'We will keep you safe, Harry. Whatever the cost, we will put an end to this. Professor McGonagall and I have spoken about this at length, and we think we might be able to exploit this opportunity without actually putting you at risk. We'd have to discuss it with Mr Shacklebolt, of course, but if we find the right person, we might be able to use Polyjuice Potion to trick-'
'Polyjuice Potion?' Harry exclaimed, his breath catching in his throat. 'My- You'll use Polyjuice Potion to-'
'On me, perhaps.' Marcus nodded. 'As I said, it's something that we are discussing, still… but we might be able to work this opportunity to our advantage, Harry.'
Harry looked up at Marcus, at the hopeful look in his eyes that pleaded for Harry's approval, and he felt a sudden rush of disgust. 'An attempt on Hermione's life is not an opportunity,' he snapped.
'Potter,' McGonagall whispered. 'You must stay alive. Surely, you understand the importance of your safety. If you died… there'd be outrage, mayhem! A perfect situation for runaway villains to regroup!'
Harry rose from his chair, his fingers balled into white-knuckled fists.
'No.' He tried hard to keep his voice steady, but it shook with audible anger. 'If she's there, I will be there. Either you find a way to keep us both safe, or you keep neither of us safe.' With that, he turned around and started towards the door, determined to leave before he said anything stupid.
'Harry-'
Harry's resolve vanished as quickly as it'd come. 'No!' he yelled, and he spun around furiously. 'Too many people have died. My family. My friends. Your friends, Professor!' Harry looked towards McGonagall, who seemed to shrink at the insinuation. 'And I'm still here. Instead of me, maybe Professor Dumbledore could have stood here to help you. Or Snape! Or maybe, just maybe-' Harry's voice grew louder and he felt rage wash through his body, smothering every voice in his head that pleaded for composure. 'Maybe Lupin could have been here to watch his new-born son grow up!'
Harry had roared the words, but immediately after, he felt depleted. Useless. Helpless. Like a puppet on unbreakable strings. Despite all of the tales of Harry's strength, and despite all of his legend, things always seemed to happen to him. After so many years, Harry realised he still wasn't free.
'If my time comes, Professor,' Harry said, and he looked from Marcus to McGonagall. 'I will go. I'll go willingly.'
With those words he turned, shoved the chair from out of his way, and stalked from the Office.
