*~* Whew! What a wild ride so far, eh? Well, I realized you might need a moment or two to absorb the shock of all that's happened. The characters need that too, so that's really all this chapter is about – accepting the truth and trying to decide what to do next. That's why it's so terribly short.
Then we'll dive right back into the action, all right? All right. Here we go… *~*
Raphael finished his story and looked up expectantly at the Potters. November was lost deep in thought, playing with the idea of its truth in her mind. Could such a thing even be possible? Harry, on the other hand, was looking toward Fudge for reassurance. Fudge had his arms crossed firmly across his chest. Harry marveled at how intimidating he could look sometimes.
"It all appears to be true," said Fudge sternly. "The Ministry has run test after test, I assure you, and every word he speaks is apparently in truth. But the fact remains: he has threatened murder and death on you both, regardless of his reasoning, and therefore – "
"But I just said I didn't do it!" Raphael interrupted indignantly. "I'm on your side, Mr. and Mrs. Potter, honest I am. I haven't threatened murder or death or any of that rubbish. I'm trying to protect Abby as much as you are. The Dark Lord, he knows. He's found out about me and somehow or other traced me back to you. If I was trying to give you over to Voldemort, do you honestly think I would have given Abby that necklace?"
Harry eased back against the couch, formed a temple with his fingertips, and pressed his hands against the bridge of his nose. He closed his eyes. That horrible pounding between his eyes was beginning again, driving into the very core of his skull. He remembered all too well what had happened on that night 11 years ago. He was in the middle of a meeting with the Department of Muggle Protection when Sarah Legrant, his co-worker for years, came rushing into the room.
"Harry, come quick. It's November, and she sounds terribly upset. All we can understand is that it has something to do with Abby." Fear rushed into his heart as he excused himself from the table of department heads. Abby? Was she all right? Had Voldemort…? Of course, that had been the only thing on his mind since Abby was born. He didn't care half as much about protection from Death Eaters as he did protection from the Dark Lord. Voldemort has risen and regained power not too long ago. Harry had a high price on his head, as did anyone else carrying the Potter name. *hence the name of the story, ta-da!* He'd spent months making sure his family was safe. Had that safety been called into question?
Praying that no harm had come to his daughter, his pride and joy, he followed Sarah into the meeting room. There was a large fireplace at the center of the room. The flames had been turned a brilliant blue shade, and November's face was recognizable through them. Her hair was disheveled and there were dark streaks trailing down her cheeks. She was sobbing something incomprehensible. Harry flattened himself against the floor to be at her level.
"November, amor, what's wrong?" he said, choking down his own fear and trying to sound as comforting as possible. November sniffled hard and tried to take a breath, but it came out as more of a cough. Harry tried to slow his rapidly beating heart by taking his own deep breath.
"Harry – there's been an attack – right here – woke up this morning – door unlocked – Abby's room – window open – oh Harry, Abby has a scar on her forehead, and it looks just like yours." Harry needed no convincing. He explained to Sarah that he was Apparating home that instant, walked off the Ministry steps, and did just that. He left it to his co-worker to explain, but he was sure it would be no problem. After all, as Head Phoenix, he had quite a bit of clout at the Ministry. Besides, all that mattered was that his daughter had narrowly avoided Voldemort…or at least, that was what he assumed.
Sure enough, when he got home, he found Abby just as November had described – sleeping, with a light jagged mark atop her right eye that strangely resembled his own. Harry swallowed and pressed his thumb against the cut. The sleeping child moved in her sleep but went on with her infantile dreams. It burned against his finger in the same way his own scar did when he touched it. Of course, it wasn't quite as dark as his scar, and with the right spells it could easily be hidden. Nonetheless, it had finally happened – Voldemort had tried to murder his family and clearly failed.
"There's something else, too," November said in hushed whisper. "She wasn't wearing that necklace last night."
They had put together that the necklace was what had saved Abby's life that night, but never did Harry think he would come face-to-face with her rescuer. Never had he even imagined that her rescuer would be this young boy that sat before him now.
"No," said Harry softly, still lost deep within himself. "No, you would not. But why are you helping us? Why does it matter so much to you that you would my daughter's life above your own? That's precisely what you're doing, you know. You could be killed in your naïve attempts to protect Abby."
"I know that. And I told you – I love her. I would do anything for her. Even if it means risking my life to save hers," Raphael replied. He tried to keep his voice as soft as Harry's; it had set a mood, and he didn't want to frighten anyone anymore. He just wanted the truth to be known.
November stepped behind Harry and placed her hands lovingly on his shoulders. He was still trying to put things into perspective. "All right, let me try to understand all this. You used to be a Death Eater. You came after my daughter, my own flesh and blood, because you were instructed by Voldemort to do so. But in doing so, you fell in love with her, and now you want to protect her. You saved her life, foiling the plans Voldemort had already set out for you. Someone's after you now because you upset Voldemort's plans. This is the part that makes so little sense. If they're after you, why are they threatening my family?"
Fudge came in and answered the question for him. "Harry, I can't believe you could be so blind. The Dark Lord and his followers have been after you for years. You know that. They believe you to be too powerful, particularly as a Muggle protector. Until [he said the name in a considerably hushed tone] Voldemort is brought back down again, you will be risking your life defending Muggles as you have these many years. You've joined an awful battle, Harry. The Death Eaters don't necessarily play fair."
"I am well aware of that. That doesn't answer my question. If they're after Elijah or Raphael or whatever his name is, why are they trying to murder my family?"
"They're bitter, Mr. Potter," Raphael explained, "and a bit vindictive. You see, as a Death Eater, the closer you come to harming a Potter, the greater you are in Voldemort's eyes. I came close to bringing harm on a Potter; in fact, I was very nearly able to murder Abby. The only thing that could have stopped me was myself, which thank Merlin I did. But the other Death Eaters were, well, jealous that I could do such a thing. They were enraged that someone could have the opportunity to murder a Potter and not follow through with it. So this particular Death Eater wanted revenge. He would kill me first off, and return me as a trophy to his master. Then he would kill Abby. In his strange, twisted mind he figured that bringing us both back to Voldemort would improve his position in his master's eyes."
"And who, pray tell, would this Dark wizard be?" This time it was November's turn to ask a question. She had been wondering all along, but Harry simply would not take the conversation in that direction. She could not even begin to guess why, though; it seemed an obvious enough question to ask. Raphael kept the courage and strength in his voice. His interrogation was beginning to feel a bit like the Spanish Inquisition, but he let it go and answered the question as best he could.
"I would think that obvious, Mrs. Potter. Mr. Michael Turner has been in Azkaban several times over for his support of the Dark Arts. He and Mr. Draco Malfoy have been turning the wizarding world upside-down of late. It was originally Mr. Malfoy's idea to torture you. Mr. Turner was the one who took it into his head to get revenge."
"I still don't understand. How do you know so much about this?" November asked. Harry had conducted the questioning with his eyes closed and his head leaned back, but suddenly shot straight up. His glasses tumbled right off his nose in his haste. His eyes had flown open, and now he grabbed November's wrist tight enough to break it. She cried out slightly from the pain.
"November, our secret spot. Apparate. Now."