Chapter 25

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He should have expected an ambush.

It was Monday morning and Harry was in his office compiling a current list of known members of the Knights when Hermione entered his office without knocking, followed by a grim-looking Ron.

Harry froze. He put down his quill and laced his fingers in his lap, touching his ring absently. He watched Hermione put up a privacy ward and felt his heart begin to race.

"We need to talk," Ron said, striding forward and looping his leg around the chair in front of Harry's desk.

He took out his wand and conjured another for Hermione, who was still hesitating by the door.

"Come on, 'Mione," Ron said, patting the chair he'd made. "Sit. We have to do this."

Harry felt his skin go cold.

"What do you want?" Harry said, trying to act unbothered. "I'm busy."

Ron nodded.

"And hiding from us."

Harry bristled.

"I'm not hiding." At Ron's scoffing sound, he reluctantly amended. "Fine, if I am, it's because you two are harassing me. Stalking me."

"We just want to help," Hermione said, coming over to sit in the chair at last.

"Yeah?" Harry said, amazed at her audacity. "I thought I'd made it clear that I don't want your help. And it's funny that you call it help, when what you actually want to do is get me fired."

"If you break the law, there are consequences," Ron muttered, but Hermione placed a hand on his arm.

"You won't get fired. Anyways, Harry." She looked serious. Remorseful but determined. "We are on our way to tell Kingsley."

Harry stood.

"You can't," he rasped, his hand flying to his earring.

Ron shot him a disdainful look, but Hermione replied.

"We can't wait any longer."

"But he hasn't done anything else!" Harry argued, placing his hands on the desk for support. "Not since Italy and I told you he wouldn't do any more, and he hasn't. Why now?"

"It's the bloody right thing to do," Ron answered. "We can't sleep knowing he's out there. We've got kids, Harry. We don't want to see them killed because we let you convince us to trust the Dark sodding Lord Voldemort."

"What if he's changed? What if he just wants to disappear? Hasn't he been through enough to allow that?"

Harry was terrified he would lose this argument. He kept speaking before they could interrupt.

"You didn't see him, Ron. Neither of you did. He was stabbed to death and then…raped while he was dead. He was drowned and whipped until his skin was literally hanging off of him in ribbons. He had suffered every day for twelve years, I promise you. He's not the same man."

His throat hurt and he swallowed a few times. Ron stood up and leaned over the desk between them, getting right in Harry's face.

"You want me to feel sorry for the man who killed my brother?" he asked in a deadly voice. "You want me to let him live, the man who killed Remus and Tonks and Colin and hundreds of other people— including your parents, Harry? You think a few cuts and bruises are enough to pay for what he's done?"

"Aren't you listening?" Harry shouted, getting in Ron's face too. "They fucking killed him almost daily for twelve years. Raped him with a violence that would make you piss your pants. He's… he suffers terrible flashbacks still. You haven't seen it, you don't know, but I have and if I can say he's paid his due, you had better listen to me. Voldemort has done more to me than anyone else."

"I bet he has," Ron muttered, and then nudged Harry hard in the chest with his index finger. "Just because you've turned traitor doesn't mean we're going to join you. Not this time, mate. It's him or us."

Harry leaned back, away from the other man. He stared into the blue eyes of his first-ever friend and searched for any hint of compassion. But there was none. It was terrifying, knowing he was about to lose everything, and no one would stand beside him.

"Don't do it," Harry said, addressing Hermione who looked stricken. "Not yet. Just… give him a chance. Please."

"You're delusional!" Ron shouted. "You're so mad for his prick that you've forgotten who he is! He doesn't give a fuck about you or your promises. He's already killed three-hundred people. How can you still be defending him?"

"That was before," Harry said, trying not to flinch from Ron's aggression. "He didn't know I didn't want him to do that."

Ron barked out a derisive laugh.

"What kind of monster doesn't know that they shouldn't be killing people? You're mental for believing a word he says!"

"Ron, enough," Hermione said, and Ron growled in frustration, but sat down, his head in his hands.

Hermione was looking at Harry with concern.

"We are going to Kingsley now, Harry. We've made up our minds. You can either come with us and fight to save your job or you can stay here and he'll likely be by to see you soon after."

Harry stayed silent. Tears gathered in her eyes.

"I'm so sorry, Harry. I wish you would come with us. We can do this together and Ron and I will help you. Voldemort isn't worth losing everything for. You need to understand, they may…"

Her voice broke and Ron reached out a hand to curl her against his side. He glared at Harry.

Harry knew what she was trying to say. They were likely going to throw Harry in Azkaban.

He felt strangely calm all of a sudden.

"Fine," he said, sitting back down in his chair. "Thanks for the warning. I think it's time you left."

Hermione let out a sob and Ron made a scathing sound.

"So you'd rather go to jail than give up your murdering boyfriend."

"I'd rather have faith in someone I care about than assume they're hopeless. Rather like Dumbledore used to think."

Hermione made a small, sad sound. Ron's expression was full of loathing.

"Think you're like Dumbledore, do you?" he sneered. "Funny, I never saw him selling out the entire world for his own selfish reasons."

"Maybe you should pick up a book, Ron. Dumbledore and I had a lot in common. Not the least of which is that we both liked to fuck Dark wizards."

Ron screwed up his face in disgust.

"Yeah, but Dumbledore was wrong, in the end, wasn't he? Fucking the Dark Lord didn't make Grindelwald suddenly change."

"Which is a pity. His Dark Lord wouldn't give it all up for him. Mine will."

Which was, of course, a complete lie, but he could still hope.

Ron made a repulsed sound, standing up and pulling Hermione to her feet with him.

"You're beyond hope, Potter," he said. "Have fun with your Dark Lord while you can. I'll see if they can find a matrimonial cell in Azkaban for the two of you."

And Ron stormed out, leaving Hermione staring at Harry with tears running down her cheeks.

"I'm sorry, Hermione," he whispered, feeling all the weight of his decision on him, pressing his chest tight.

"You saw him recently, didn't you?" she asked.

Harry nodded, helplessly.

"I can tell," she said quietly. "You look good."

He didn't know what to say to that so he stayed silent.

"Come with us," she implored, reaching forward and taking his hand. "Tell Kingsley you were Imperiused and he will forgive you. You can help us find Voldemort and all will be forgiven. This is the best option, Harry. Please. Please. I can't stand the thought of this sending you to prison."

"So don't tell him."

Hermione shook her head.

"We have to. And you would agree if you were thinking clearly."

Harry blew out a breath and rubbed his face. So this is it.

"Harry," Hermione said in a small voice, and he looked back at her. "Don't you think it's possible that you're trying to fit him into being someone he's not? You want so badly for him to be normal. A partner. I know you do. Someone you can stand beside."

Harry shut his eyes, refusing to cry. He did want that. Very much. He wanted all the promises and romance and domesticity that Voldemort could never give him.

Harry shook his hand free.

"Go on," he said, turning away. "Ron's waiting."

He heard Hermione linger for a few moments and then the privacy ward fell. The door shut quietly.

Harry collapsed into his chair.

This was it. He was finished.

He pulled out his parchment and wrote.

They're telling the Minister everything. Right now.

He watched the words disappear. They would take this from him too. Likely the ring and earring as well. He would lose all avenues of contact with the man.

You need to stay hidden. I don't want you thrown in jail too.

Harry waited, hoping the man would respond before they came for him.

I am coming.

Harry jolted, his fingers almost snapping the quill.

No Voldemort you can't!

No response.

You can't! They're trying to lure you here to capture you again!

Harry waited desperately, but no further words appeared. He began to panic.

Don't you dare come near here that's what they want you to do!

VOLDEMORT!

They want to recapture you!

Listen to me!

Don't come! PLEASE!

Harry cursed and threw his quill against the wall. What would Voldemort do? Would he burn down the Ministry? Would he kill Kingsley?

Kill Ron and Hermione?

What had he done? Instead of handling the situation himself, he had called on the Dark Lord, a supremely powerful being bent on vengeance and destruction. Someone who was already at risk. And now Voldemort was coming to do who knew what and they may just get their dual prison cells like Ron had suggested.

Fuck.

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Harry paced just outside the Minister's office. He knew any moment Ron and Hermione would emerge and the Minister would arrest him. But that didn't matter. He had to be here to stop Voldemort from interfering.

Percy was eyeing him from his desk, having gone so far as to put down his quill and openly stare. Harry did his best to ignore him, his mind churning with fear.

A distant murmur of noise seized Harry's attention and he turned to face the sound. The floor trembled and a deep rumble followed, causing the people at their desks to cry out.

"What was that?"

"Someone get the Minister!"

"Carol, did you feel that?"

Harry's instincts kicked in and he ran to the panicked crowd and shouted, "You need to get out of here— now! The lifts are probably blocked, take the alternate exits, and leave!"

"Harry?"

"What's happening?"

Percy was suddenly right before him.

"Do you know what's happening?"

Harry nodded slowly.

"What is it?" Percy demanded, but at that moment many things happened at once.

The door behind him burst open and Harry could hear the Minister shouting instructions and Ron and Hermione coming over to Harry, grabbing his arms.

But Harry was frozen, watching as a surge of violent power preceded Lord Voldemort, who walked up the hallway towards him. Face determined, eyes blazing that inhuman red, his magic whipping around his body.

The hands on Harry tightened and began to pull him away, but he could not move.

The man was transcendent, striding forward while everyone around him fled or tried to hit him with spells that couldn't penetrate past the dark cloud of magic surrounding him. His scorching gaze was fixed on a point behind Harry and Harry turned to see the Minister's attention likewise caught.

"Harry!" Hermione screamed, beside him. "We have to go!"

Ron wrapped an arm around Harry's chest and hauled him back, dragging him away. Harry resisted, finally able to shift his focus and saw his friends shouting at him to move.

He turned back to Voldemort who had reached the Minister and was standing before him, his face twisted in fury but also triumph. He looked feral, dangerous. The Dark Lord might have been saying something, but Harry couldn't hear it over all the noise.

Ron suddenly released him with a growl and ran back into the Minister's office. Hermione shouted something at her husband, but Harry couldn't understand what it was and didn't care to.

A commotion from down the hall got Harry and Voldemort's attention. They both turned when a group of Aurors flooded into the room, spells firing at the Dark Lord.

Voldemort turned back to Kingsley and Harry watched as the younger man fell, his legs giving out and his body hitting the floor heavily. Hermione screamed and tried to run to him, but Harry stopped her.

Voldemort was staring at Harry now, an uncertain look on his face. Harry stared right back, knowing he should do something, but everything was moving too fast.

The Aurors had surrounded Voldemort, their spells still unable to penetrate past the Dark Lord's protective magic.

Voldemort broke Harry's gaze and turned to the Aurors, his face grim and his body elegantly assuming a fighting stance.

"Stop!" Harry shouted, and Voldemort's focus snapped back onto him.

Waiting.

Harry couldn't breathe. He was about to watch Voldemort kill every single one of the Aurors, his colleagues, who were just doing their jobs. Harry was panting, his mouth open, but no idea what to possibly say.

A movement caught Harry's eye and he saw Ron creep up behind Voldemort with a large black, rounded M in his hands. Harry was momentarily distracted, wondering what the hell Ron was doing that close to Voldemort—

And then the metal snapped closed in a perfect circle around the Dark Lord's neck.

Everything stopped.

The storm of magic immediately vanished. Harry watched as Voldemort ripped his startled gaze from Harry to Ron and the two regarded each other for a heartbeat, Ron terrified and Voldemort apoplectic.

Harry knew what was going to happen before it did. Voldemort grabbed Ron by his throat and spun, cradling Ron's head in the crook of his elbow and squeezing.

Voldemort was going to strangle Ron to death.

The Aurors were shouting at each other, not knowing what to do. The Dark Lord was standing over the Minister's dead body, holding a civilian hostage and using him as a shield.

Harry stepped forward and saw Voldemort's eye twitch, but he did not turn to look at him.

"Voldemort," Harry whispered, holding out a hand to stall his colleagues, but keeping his gaze on the Dark Lord. "He's my best friend. Don't kill him."

"He put this on me," Voldemort spat, his eyes crinkling with fury as he shrugged his shoulders to indicate the magical-inhibiting collar. "You cannot ask me to spare his life, I refuse to be caught again."

"I'll help you," Harry said, taking another step closer.

He saw Ron's hands, that had been gripping Voldemort's bare forearm tightly, go slack and fall to hang limply at his sides. Ron's eyes were half-open, vacant, his face red, his lips and mouth blue.

"You're killing him," Harry rasped, and he heard Hermione sobbing behind him.

"Potter!" Mallory shouted. "Stand back, we're going to take him out."

"No, you'll hit Ron," Harry said to his coworker, keeping his eyes on Voldemort, who flinched at Harry's words, but still did not look at him.

He felt powerless, desperate to intervene, but he didn't know what he could do. Time seemed frozen and yet it was ticking away rapidly as he stared at Ron's limp form. Bubbly saliva had accumulated in his mouth and was making its way down onto Voldemort's robes. Ron wasn't moving at all.

"Let him go!" Hermione screamed, running forward, but Harry grabbed her hand again and pulled her back.

"Please," Harry breathed, putting everything he had into that word, staring at the Dark Lord helplessly.

Voldemort did turn for that. He looked at Harry and his eyes were agonized as he took in him and Hermione holding hands. Harry imagined what Voldemort saw in that moment: Harry, too far away to touch and not getting any closer. Begging for the lives of his friends. Choosing them over him.

A spell hit Voldemort in the shoulder, inches from Ron's head, and Harry watched as the Dark Lord fell, releasing Ron and collapsing lifelessly onto the ground.