Disclaimer: I own nothing, it if course all belongs to the splendiferous JK Rowling. I just like to borrow the characters every now and then.
A/N 1: Ack, I am so very sorry to all of those who have already read the fourth chapter to Finding Faith. Unfortunately the other night when I was typing the second half of this chapter I was a bit distracted and extremely tired. My muse was saying finish this chapter and post, while my brain was saying write your term paper, while my body was saying must sleep. These factors combined are what to blame for the unfortunate mess that I called the second chapter to Finding Faith. So when I read my own chapter the next day I was horrified, but not surprised to find that the writing sucked. So here my good readers is the real and revised chapter four. I highly suggest that those of you who have read the original read this one again because there are some additions, which may or may not, be important later. And please, please, please, review. Because all of your kind thoughts are what will get the next chapter posted sooner. Thanks a bunch.
Darkphoenix
Chapter 3: Misguided Intentions
Amos Diggory sat in his living room stirring the cup of tea his wife had made him. He watched listlessly as his wife continued to clean the spotless kitchen through the open doorway. The loss of Cedric had hit them both very hard, and at the time Amos had thought Cedric's death had been the hardest for him. He'd cried for days over the loss of his only child, and then slowly his sadness had begun to morph into feelings of guilt, and finally feelings of rage. Yet while he was so preoccupied dealing with his own suffering he failed to notice the quiet degeneration of his wife. His wife had been the strong one in the initial days after the loss of Cedric, allowing her husband the time he needed to come to terms with the reality of Cedric's death, but in that time Amos had managed to ignore his wife's silent struggle to cope with the loss of her only child. By the time Amos had made the transition from sorrow and guilt to rage, an emotion that allowed him to feel, his wife had already slipped into her silent and mundanely routine lifestyle, and now Amos feared it was too late to reach out and give her the comfort he should have provided as the husband all along. But that didn't mean he wouldn't try.
The anger Amos felt had only intensified since he had begun to loose his wife to her own mind. Yet nothing that he did seemed to abate that anger in the least. Quite to the contrary the hate and rage that had been building inside of him only seemed to get worse with each passing day, and the fact that there had been no justice served to his family only made the hatred grow. He'd was as close to the edge of sanity as one could get, loosing his son so suddenly and having to watch his wife die a little more each day had made him feel so meaningless, so insignificant, so powerless. But just as he'd been ready to walk over that edge, to throw what was left of his life away something had pulled him back from the edge, someone had given him the power to do something in memory of his son, and perhaps give him the power to save his ailing wife.
Two days ago Cornelius Fudge had come by the Diggory home to offer his condolences. Initially Amos had wanted none of the ministers fake apologies and phony condolences. It wasn't until half way through his conversation with the minister that Amos had begun to realize that he had been presented with an opportunity to channel his rage and frustration into something that would serve a greater purpose.
As it stood no one had been prosecuted for his son's death, no one had paid for the loss they had inflicted upon the Diggory family. And after listening to Fudge's long winded speeches and updates on happenings with in the ministry he began to doubt what Dumbledore had told him. A resurrected dark lord couldn't have killed Cedric; it simply wasn't logical. He'd just been so willing to believe whatever Dumbledore had told him in an attempt to hide from the truth, and to hide from the pain. Fudge was right the dark lord hadn't returned, he wasn't to blame for his son's death. Then Amos thought that perhaps it had been an accident, the tournament had been undoubtedly dangerous, perhaps… no that wasn't right either. The official report had stated that Cedric had been the victim of the killing curse; someone had cast Avada Kedavra on his son, but who? Amos could feel himself losing patience, h feel himself losing patience, hfering for the loss of his son, no one had given his family justice, no one knew what really happened, except for, that's right Harry Potter was the one that had ended up taking the championship. The championship that should have been Cedric's, the one that Mr. Potter had claimed that he and Cedric had tied for, but no one really knew that that was what had happened did they? Nobody knew, no one except for Mr. Potter. It was at this thought that Amos lost all self-control he had when speaking to Cornelius. Before Amos knew what he was doing he was speaking to Fudge in a full-blown tirade. Why had there been no justice? Why had there been no inquiry? Why had Mr. Potter, the Mr. Potter who had been so jealous of the fact that Cedric had beaten him in quidditch, why had he not been questioned, minor or not he had a responsibility to tell the truth about the happenings of the tri wizard tournament. Before Amos realized what had happened he had shoved the Minister of magic out his front door demanding an inquiry against Harry Potter for the death of his son, threatening that if no action had been taken with in twenty four hours that he was going to go to the press and release a scathing editorial against the ministry and Hogwarts. Fudge needless to say left quickly while apologizing profusely, and making worthless promises in between. But Amos hadn't trusted Fudge, or his ridiculous assurances, which is why when Rita Skeeter had shown up later that day requesting an interview Amos had invited the repulsive woman into his home and served her his finest afternoon tea. He would see justice done, even if no one else would. And even though Amos knew his actions could never bring his son home, perhaps just perhaps he could save what was left of it.
Night had fallen upon number four Privet Drive and most of the neat little home's occupants were asleep. One however remained awake. Harry Potter was up in his bedroom trying to find a comfortable position to sleep in, yet finding very little success. Finally resigning to the fact that he wasn't going to fall asleep anytime soon he quietly crawled out of bed and pulled up the loose floorboards in his room and retrieved his birthday gift from Hermione and went to sit near his open window. The day had been insufferably hot and humid, and unfortunately for Harry it had also been a Tuesday. Tuesday's and Saturdays were the days that Harry was expected to do all of the yard work around the house, and today, despite the wicked weather had been no different. Harry had toiled most of the day away outside mowing the lawn and weeding the garden. He had been ready to go inside and clean up at around four thirty, just when the heat and humidity were beginning to weigh him down. Yet upon reaching the kitchen his aunt handed him a small glass of water and told him that his uncle had wanted him to paint the new garden trellises and the put them up against the house where his aunt was going to be growing some creeping plants. That little chore had taken him until past suppertime. Harry scowled, of all the nights to be restless, this just wasn't it, he was completely exhausted but just couldn't bring himself to rest in the stuffy room. Harry looked out his window again and sighed. Perhaps the brooding weather meant a storm was coming, Harry inwardly hoped so, a good shower or two would help to return the temperature to a more amiable state, even though it would mean that he'd be trapped inside with his aunt and cousin all day. This summer had continued to progress down a nasty little path where his relatives were concerned, it seemed that nearly everything Harry did set them off, it was to the point that he avoided the family at all times possible, when he wasn't doing chore he was usually hiding up in his room, usually either writing letters, or doing as he was doing now and placing and reviewing memories in the magical scrapbook Hermione had sent him. After silently reviewing one his favorite memories, the amazing bouncing ferret incident as he called it, he glanced up and saw an owl rapidly approaching his bedroom window.
Harry quickly stepped aside to allow the owl enough room to swoop in and gracefully land on his bed. The unfamiliar owl hooted in a rather impatient way and stuck out his leg. Sensing the owl's impatience Harry hurried over and undid the letter and allowed the owl to drink from Hedwig's water basin. Harry turned over the letter and found it addressed to him in a handwriting that looked vaguely familiar. Curiosity getting the better of him he sat down on his bed and tore the letter open only to find that it was from Professor Lupin, it read:
Dear Harry,
I hope this letter finds you well. I wanted to write and tell you hello as well as dispel any untruths Snuffles may have been telling you about me in his frequent letters. First of all I want to say that no matter what he says I have not poisoned him with my cooking, though the thought is rather tempting seeing as how Snuffles could drive a person to drink. Secondly, I do not wake him up at what he so eloquently describes as the, and I quote "butt crack of dawn." Tell snuffles that by ten o' clock the day is nearly half through. I swear he is worse than a child, he eats, he sleeps, and he makes a larger mess than a herd of rampaging Hippogriffs. Then he claims that I've hidden his things from him when he can't find them, perhaps he should try looking for them where they belong. He also always has to have the last word in everything; I swear he does it just to see if he can annoy me into an early grave. Harry, are you sure that the Dursleys wouldn't like a pet, perhaps a dog?
Finally and on a more important note, as your ex professor I must ask: Are you keeping up with your studies? The O.W.L.S are just around the corner! And I am sure that you want to be prepared. Anyway, I hope your having a pleasant summer, and if you have any ideas on how to keep that mangy mutt in line please let me know immediately or I may have to resort to more drastic measures.
Remus
Harry had to smile. Sirius must be driving Remus absolutely mad if he was writing to Harry for help. Harry was getting ready to reply to the letter when another fell out from behind the one Remus had sent, the writing on this one Harry recognized immediately, apparently Sirius wasn't going to let Professor Lupin have the last word this time either.
Harry,
I don't know what Remus told you as he wouldn't let me read his letter but I'm pretty sure I can guess. I swear to you Harry he really did try to poison me! It is a wonder that the man is still alive after all these years of cooking for himself. Honestly the other night he tried to feed me a bowl of these wimpy little green things, with the blandest strips of meat, (he says they were chicken), I have ever tasted. I swear the cave rats had more flavor than Moony's cooking. Whatever happened to a good old-fashioned cheeseburger? I swear I am wasting away on what he's feeding me. To make matters worse he's waking me up at the most ungodly hours of the morning. I swear the sun isn't even in the middle of the sky yet! I swear the old wolf needs to get a life, and maybe some groceries. Know any charms to make someone more fun? Anyway whatever he wrote don't believe him, be on your guard he's cunning the old wolf, and I wouldn't want you sucked into his so called healthy lifestyle!
Speaking of which how are you holding up, are you having a decent summer? I know from your letter's you miss your friends, hopefully we can work on you getting to the burrow a bit later in the summer, Moony even said he'd talk to Dumbledore about you spending a few days here with us, only if you want to of course. We'd understand if you'd rather go strait to the burrow once Dumbledore okay's it. Seriously though if you need anything please write, I'll do whatever I can, but for your own sake I hope Dudley's off his diet because I think you'd rather starve than eat what Moony would send you. Anyway keep your head up and write soon.
Snuffles
Harry smiled. His godfather had been sending mail so regularly that he must be writing Harry the moment he received a reply. Sometimes it was difficult to reply to Sirius truthfully, most of the time he wanted to know that Harry was all right. And Harry supposed he was all right. He had been fairing a bit better than when he'd initially arrived at his Aunt's home, Hermione's gift had been so very timely. Inserting all of his best memories of his friends and adventures at Hogwarts had helped him to remember some of the good times, and distract him from the ever-present thoughts of the bad ones. Yet nothing could protect him from his dreams, which were occurring nightly with out fail and occasionally more than once, and that combined with the treatment his relatives gave him, and his lack of proper food and sleep was quickly ebbing at the little happiness he had gained in the last few days.
Part of Harry really wanted to write to someone, and for once be completely truthful. But whom could he write to? Hermione would probably get upset, and pity his situation, something that was not only unhelpful, but made Harry feel incredibly awkward. Ron would probably just get angry and incensed on his behalf, pull the twins into taking a ridiculously foolish risk like they had in second year, leading Harry to feel responsible and guilty over their actions. There was always Sirius though, Harry had thought several times of writing to his godfather, but had never been able to respond to Sirius truthfully in any of his letters. Harry partly wondered how he could even go about telling his godfather he was miserable. What could he say? Something like, "Hey Snuffles, I know you said if I needed anything I could talk to you, so here goes. I'm having nightmares of Voldemort's return and the Dursley's are treating me like a filthy burden, what do I do?" Harry could hardly imagine writing that let alone reading it, which led him to the other reason he didn't write, how would Sirius react? Maybe Sirius would rush over, putting himself in danger because Harry hadn't been big enough to do some chores and ignore a few nightmares. Besides how could Harry justify that sort of action from Sirius? Sirius barely knew Harry, why should he have to place himself at risk for a Godson he never knew, that would be terribly selfish on Harry's part. But if nothing else Harry knew deep down that Sirius would end up worrying and feeling guilty for not being able to raise Harry from the start. Harry knew enough from the questions Sirius always asked that he already felt guilty enough, and Harry just couldn't bring himself to make things any worse or any more awkward between them. So with that in mind Harry grabbed a piece of parchment and a quill to write back to Remus and Sirius. He was sure if he tried he could allay some of Sirius' worries and maybe even suggest a few threats for Remus to use against Padfoot. Then after he was through maybe just maybe he could get a few hours of uninterrupted sleep in before he was woken by his aunt and presented with a dreadfully long list of chores.
The weather outside the Ministry's main grounds was bleak and rapidly turning nasty at the early morning hour of eight. Yet one man seemed to walk with a rather joyful spring in his step, the stormy weather obviously not spoiling his morning. Cornelius Fudge strode through the Ministry's main doors and proceeded to his private chambers.
Today would be the day that Fudge would finally be rid of Harry Potter, and would have Albus Dumbledore so distracted he'd have no time to continue to work against Fudge, yes today would be a grand day indeed. Cornelius had worked long and hard to get to this moment. He'd made an alliance with an insufferable woman, although a brilliant reporter. There was no question Rita Skeeter had done her job well. The first article she had written had received a great deal of attention; though admittedly not all of the attention had been the kind Fudge had wanted. He had received several howlers demanding a retraction of the slander against Potter. But those letters had merely been a fraction of the mail received by the Daily Prophet and the ministry, the rest of the mail had held rather unfriendly sentiments towards Potter, and those were the letters the minister was banking his entire campaign on.
The letters alone however may not have been enough to conduct an investigation, and openly attack Potter. There had to be another catalyst. Fudge had thought long and hard about whom he could approach. Rita alone was not enough to discredit Potter to the point of no return, even though she had managed to strike several detrimental blows to his character, her character kept her from being enough to bring the boy down. Even though many read her, and would often believe the gossip she wrote, they also knew her deep down for the catty gossip she was. No Fudge had needed someone respected by the whole of the wizarding community, someone the people could relate to, someone easy to manipulate. And then like a bolt of lightning it had hit him, Amos Diggory.
The last time Fudge had seen Amos he'd been a total mess, his wife was at her wits end trying to pull him back from massive depression. But lately, through mutual friends and contacts Fudge had come to realize that the roles in that household had reversed. Now it seemed that his wife was slowly deteriorating over the loss of their son, while Amos seemed to be getting angry, and anger is an emotion Fudge knew he could manipulate.
So polite as you please Fudge had gone to see Amos and his wife, and found to his morbid delight that things were much worse than rumored. It took Fudge less than thirty minutes to very carefully provoke Amos into a full blown up roar, demanding justice, at first for his family, and by the time Fudge left, Amos was demanding punishment, and against Harry Potter. Realizing that he'd been given his golden opportunity Fudge hastily got back to his office and fire called Rita Skeeter. Fudge assured her that if she got over to Amos's now she could get a fiery story and editorial from Amos's point of view about the death of his son and the events surrounding the tri wizard tournament. Rita had readily agreed, and that article had been the turning point against Potter. Letters poured in the ministry in support of Amos Diggory, and Fudge had no choice but to allow the investigation to come to light, and when he took what information he'd allowed his most trusted personnel to gather, and Rita Skeeter to organize and summarize to a court, a conclusion was rapidly reached to try Harry Potter for the murder of Cedric Diggory.
Thirty minutes later, after Fudge had changed into some official robes he entered a large conference room with an air of confidence and took his place in an empty chair at the head of the table. Facing him was twelve of the ministry's most powerful governors, many of them Fudges' most loyal supporters, and those few who were not were known to have a certain dislike for Potter. All of whom had been hand selected by Fudge to try this case, among them was Lucious Malfoy. Fudge rose, quieted the people present and muttered an incantation that began the meeting. The chamber doors were magically sealed, and recording devices enabled. The minister then rose and cleared his throat.
"Today we are here to review the case of the happenings of the tri wizard tournament, and establish fault in the death of Cedric Diggory. Harry Potter is hereby formally charged with pre meditative murder. It is our sad job to unbiasedly review the evidence against Mr. Potter and come to a formal conclusion. Are there any questions before we begin?"
"Will Mr. Potter be joining us today?"
"No, as a minor he is not required to appear in court, and as his guardians are muggles I feel that having them join us would present more complications than are necessary." That had been the last of Fudge's strategic moves. Harry Potter would never know that he'd been tried for murder until he was being arrested. As a minor he did not have to appear in court, and of course there was the benefit that his muggle guardians would only have complicated matters.
"Wouldn't it be essential to hear what Potter has to say?"
"When arranging this trial the prospect of Potter being brought in was discussed, however since Potter is a minor he is not allowed to be questioned under veritiserum, at least not without consent from a guardian who knows the risks veritiserum may present to a minor. While the risks are indeed small Potter has no magical guardian, and it was felt that his relatives would not be able to make an educated decision on the matter. It was also agreed upon that while many of us tend to have a bias towards the Potter boy it would be counter productive to hear him speak with out a way to ensure it is the truth. Therefore he will remain absent from today's hearing." Fudge smiled inwardly. Everything he had done in arranging this trial had been more or less with in the confines of the law. There should be no snags in his plan from here on in; he had personally made sure that the evidence would speak for itself. Upon realizing that no one else had any comments he cleared his throat and began.
"Very well, if there are no more questions let us begin by reviewing the known facts."
After three long hours of presentation and commentary Fudge rose, "You have all heard the evidence against Mr. Potter, it is time we vote on a sentence. Everyone cast your vote silently with your wand so that we may project the outcome anonymously." When everyone had indicated they had finished Fudge displayed the results magically in the center of the room. Harry potter was convicted of murder by over three quarters of the jury.
"Very well then, issue an order to send five aurors to the Potter residence this evening, in order that Mr. Potter may be arrested and begin his maximum sentence of thirty years in Azkaban for a minor convicted of murder."
"Minister Fudge, if I may speak?" Lucious Malfoy had risen from his chair with a feral glint in his eye.
"Yes, go ahead Mr. Malfoy."
"Minister, might I suggest that you send someone a bit more competent for Potter, a few unspeakables perhaps."
"One of the witches who was still present gasped and spoke up, "Unspeakables, for a fifteen year old boy, Minister I hardly think that will be necessary."
Malfoy spoke up quickly before Fudge could reply, "No you don't think woman. Potter was capable of casting the killing curse on a fellow class mate, a feat that at such a young age must require a great deal of dark power. Do you think he would hesitate to use the curse on a few aurors? There is no telling how dangerous or desperate he may be. It is best to send wizards who are prepared to handle any situation."
"I see your point Mr. Malfoy. A standard team of four unspeakables will be sent to the Potter residence." Fudge then fire called his assistant to come and retrieve all of the recordings and written records of the proceedings to be verified and filed, it was done, and so was Potter.
Lucious Malfoy left the Ministry with a malevolent expression on his face. Aurors were soft, and would most likely be humbled in the presence of the bloody boy who lived. Unspeakables on the other hand were more likely to curse first and ask questions later, he hadn't ever heard of a raid conducted by Unspeakables where their target or their surroundings hadn't been greatly disrupted. Most were the type who loved their job, and took every threat very seriously. There would be no mercy for Potter at the tip of their wands. Lucious smiled as he stepped past the apparation point. There of course was no need for the use of Unspeakables, but Lucious owed Mr. Potter a debt, for Potter had lost Lucious his servant, and Lucious Malfoy always repaid his debts. Just as he was preparing to apparate home, a familiar burning sensation occurred in Lucious' arm, his master was calling. "Excellent timing," Lucious mumbled, "for I have news that will exalt me above all others."
Harry was sitting by the window upstairs in Dudley's second bedroom reviewing another memory he had placed in the gift Hermione had sent him. It had been a particularly nasty day. The weather had been muggy and hot, nearly insufferable in Harry's opinion. He really wished it would storm already, he wasn't sure he could stand another day like today. His aunt and cousin had remained in the house all day while his uncle had gone to work, and finally his aunt having nothing for him to do inside sent him outside to prune the hedges, among other mundane chores to keep him out of the way. Harry had finally been allowed to come in and go to his room after his uncle had come home. Harry would give just about anything for a storm to break the oppressive heat and thick air. Hearing his uncle raise his voice pulled Harry pot of his reverie.
"I don't know who you freaks think you are, but get off of my property immediately." Harry could hear Vernon yelling in a rather undignified manner, he got up from his position by the window and, Hermione's gift in his pocket and poked his head out of his room to see his Uncle Vernon slam the door on who ever was on the front steps.
His Uncle spun around and glared up the stairs as if looking for the target of his anger, when his eyes landed on Harry his face grew purple and he began to yell again.
"Boy it is bad enough those freaks are constantly sending you letters, but I will not tolerate them invading our home…!" Uncle Vernon was quickly approaching a level of anger Harry had never seen before. But whom was Vernon talking about, no one he knew would come to the door, especially not with out owling him first. Feeling as if a block of ice had slipped down his throat and settled in his stomach Harry spun on his heel and raced back into his room.
Harry quickly retrieved his wand from under the floorboards where he'd managed to hide it with a few of his books while his relatives had been asleep. The only people he could think of that would come to the house without telling him were people that he certainly didn't want to see. He continued his train of thought as walked to his door, trying to run through all of the possibilities was making him even more nervous. Harry's thought process led him to a question that took at least a bit of the edge off. If whoever was at the door were dark wizards why knock? Why not just…
Harry's train of thought was lost as he heard a loud bang and rushed around the corner to see the front door blown off. At that point it was utter pandemonium. His uncle was screaming at the two intruders while his aunt and cousin were cowering in fear. The two wizards cloaked in deep red robes entered the house wands at the ready. Upon seeing Harry on the stairs, with a wand by his side the two wizards began to throw curses. Harry's Uncle got in the way of the first one, and was thrown back into the wall. Harry used the time that the wizards were distracted to run for the kitchen. He was nearly there when he heard his aunt and then shortly after his cousin stop screaming, he assumed that whoever the intruders were had either stunned them or worse. Yet that was the confusing part, these wizards did not dress as death eaters would have, so what was going on? Harry felt more than thought that the best course of action would be to leave the house, and ponder what these people wanted later. As Harry entered the kitchen intent on making for the back door he felt a zip of magic streak past his ear, and decidedly shot the stunning curse followed by a few others he had learned last year over his shoulder. Harry was just reaching the back door when he sensed rather than saw the wizards come in behind him. Just as he swung the door open he felt the first of two curses hit him in the back, he had barely begun to fall when he felt two more hit him in the chest. So there had been four? Two at the front, and then two in the back of the house, Harry had never stood a chance. Harry barely registered the blurry shapes standing above him before he began to determinedly blink against the darkness enfolding him, but ultimately he lost the battle as two figures hoisted him up. The last feelings that Harry Potter felt before he passed out were feelings of confusion and undiluted fear.
A/N: Was it too rushed, I though it was. Oh well finals and all that, but I wanted to get this out to you. Please review.
Thanks to:
Riss: You have to like it you're my friend. But thank you anyway. I hope this story is going in a good direction; this was a difficult chapter to write, but oh well.
Karate Elf: Thank you sooo much.
Mo: Thank you so much.
Vampire Child: I'm glad you liked the gift; it'll play a role later.
Cas: Thank you for reviewing. I'm not sure that fudge is IC either but it's hard to tell because there isn't much known about his character so I am taking a little leeway.
Evil Snapple pie: Don't worry Sirius is going to be a main character in this story so stay tuned.
Sabrina: I'm glad you liked the conspiracy. And I hope you keep reading.
Heather: Thanks for the review and don't worry they'll get what's coming.