Chapter Two: The Meaning of Justice

"Who is it, Mr Potter?" Minerva McGonagall's impervious voice belied the light of fear in her eyes. "Who has dared to open this... can of worms... again?"

Harry looked around at the faces. Everyone at the table, young and old, were looking to him. They all looked frightened. Again.

Why me? He thought. Why can't I be done? When is it my turn to live a normal life?

The concerned eyes continued to watch him. For now, there was no escaping the fact that he was both Minister of Magic, and the head of the Order. Not to mention, he was still, and always would be, the boy who lived.

"I said last time that we must either wipe out the threat entirely or accept that there will always be another who dares, Minerva," Harry said.

Minerva's steady gaze did not leave him, nor did she speak. She simply waited for him to continue.

Harry sighed, "I'm afraid we have indeed underestimated him."

"Who?"

"Thorn in their side? No love of those of bravery and courage? Hater of impure blood? An old enemy?" Harry gave a humorless laugh. "Surely someone here has worked it out?"

Harry looked over to Ron. His blue eyes burned with anger. He and Harry had discussed the identity earlier, and Ron was fully aware of Harry's suspicions.

"Malfoy," came a voice. A voice that had been much firmer and more resolute in recent months. Neville spoke again. "Harry, it's Malfoy, isn't it?"

Harry smiled without humor and nodded. "That is what I believe, yes."

"But how?" Hermione asked. "I mean, I know he's clever, but..."

Ron snorted.

"... but," she continued, ignoring him. "I thought Mahood had 'dealt' with him? Isn't that what his letter to you said?"

"Only that Malfoy had learned to not underestimate me," Harry said. "In hindsight, I'm not so sure that that is a good thing."

"Harry," Snape said quietly. "You do realize that, on the power of his name alone...?"

"I do, Sev." I know that some will follow him who wouldn't otherwise just because of his father. Lucius commanded a lot of respect. Some will follow with the belief that Draco can somehow match that."

"But..."

"But nothing, Hermione," Harry said gently. "We have a situation we must deal with. However we decide to move, the fact is that there will always be another. Draco feels it is time to step forward. We have a prophecy that supports the possibility that he may defeat us all. We must figure out what it all means, and how to go forward."

"That is why, Mr Potter," Minerva's voice came sternly from one end of the table. "They have professionals at the Ministry for interpreting such things."

"I've already discussed this with Phineas Ellnore with the Department of Mysteries, Minerva. He has his best people working on it."

Minerva looked surprised for a moment, but soon recovered herself. "And what do they say?"

"Nothing, yet," Harry admitted. "They need time."

"Something we do not have an overabundance of."

"Regardless, that is what they need. In the meantime, those of us who have been here in past can probably make some pretty educated guesses," Harry said bitterly. "What we need is information from the inside. With Murray cooling his heels as a guest of the Ministry, I would imagine that turncoats aren't exactly thick on the ground over there."

He paced for a moment, then spoke again. "Alternatively, what we need is a plan for going forward with no more information than we have right now. Last time, we recognized the fact that there would always be a new contender for the position of Dark Lord unless we eradicated the Dark completely. We didn't do that, and now look where we are, only a year later."

He sighed, stopping and glancing at the people seated at the table. "I'm sorry, I..."

Ginny reached out and squeezed his hand, giving him strength. Harry took a deep breath, then continued. "I have lived with this for twenty six years. Some here have lived with this... situation, for twice that long. I, for one, refuse to do it any longer. I'm not going to be very popular in the coming months, but this is something that must be done.

"The Dark must be eradicated. Neutralized. I don't particularly care if there are those who choose to study the Dark Arts, but the moment they make the decision to begin to use those Arts against our people to attain power over our world, they will have to deal with the consequences.

"Fudge removed a lot of the old legislation from the books. There were a lot of very invasive things, outdated things, removed, and I agree with that. But political correctness went too far, in my opinion. "

"Harry?" Hermione looked at him, worried.

Harry glanced at her, his eyes sad. "Unfortunately, we cannot live in peace until we arrange our world in a peaceful fashion. I'll be speaking to Ministry officials tomorrow in an attempt to change some of the sentencing guidelines for those convicted of Dark Arts practice and attacks on others. I'll also be calling for a return of the High Treason laws."

There was a collective gasp. The High Treason laws had called for the immediate execution of anyone using Dark Magic against another for the gain of power. They had been abolished over a century before.

"I will not have our people living in fear of a Death Eater attack, wondering if their families are safe in their homes. The days of four year sentences in Azkaban for violent crimes are over. Those found guilty of Dark practices must be held responsible, and the punishment must fit the crime." Harry sighed again, rubbing his eyes with both hands, obviously tired and stressed. "We must rewrite Wizard Law and make the consequences fit the crime. We had Draco Malfoy in Azkaban. He was given a four year sentence for his part in the final battle, and Albus Dumbledore's death. Four years, because he confessed and 'repented'. Now look what we're dealing with. It has to end. Albus was worth more than four years. What Draco did to Hermione Granger was worth more than four years. Hermione's sentence was seventeen years of not knowing who she truly was, and living life alone, away from the people who loved her. And all the while, Draco Malfoy walked free. And now, he is again a thorn in the side of our world.

"This must stop," Harry said with a very tired voice. "We can reconvene in two days... eight pm. Right now, I have some things to think about. Thank you all for coming on such short notice tonight."

Harry quickly left the room, obviously agitated. Ginny didn't even glance around before following him.

"Well," Minerva said. "That gives us plenty to think about."

"Return of the High Treason laws?" Katie Bell-Wood said. "Is he insane?"

"No," Ron said. "Just sick to death of the guilty walking free while the innocent are prisoners to their fear."

"But..."

"I'm sure that Harry has considered all of the consequences," Hermione said quietly.

The meeting attendees dispersed quietly after that, leaving the remaining Weasleys and Hermione at the table.

"I've never seen Harry that angry," George commented.

"He wasn't angry," Ron stated flatly.

"What? Did you see him?" Fred looked at Ron incredulously. "If that wasn't angry, I don't want to be around him when he does lose it!"

"Yes, I saw him. And Harry never 'loses it'. He wasn't angry. I've seen him angry, and that wasn't it."

"Then what was he?"

Ron glanced around the table, at his brothers and his parents. His gaze came to rest on Hermione. A silent communication told her exactly what he was thinking. She nodded.

"Ron's right," she said. "That wasn't anger. That was... hopelessness. Harry doesn't believe that we'll ever finish this. He wants to set up our world to deal with what he believes it's going to be like to live in with the constant threat of the Dark. He's lost faith that we can beat it, so he's looking to find a way for us to just survive."

"Harry?" Ginny's voice came from behind him. He stood on the wide covered patio behind the house, leaning one shoulder against one of the columns that supported the roof. He didn't turn.

"Do you ever look at the stars and wonder how many worlds there are out there, and if any of them have these sorts of things to deal with?" he asked quietly.

Ginny came behind him and slipped her arms around his waist. "I'm sure that they all have their own problems."

"Yes," Harry agreed. "They probably do."

"And those problems are theirs to deal with, Harry. Just as these problems are ours."

Harry turned, holding her in the circle of his arms. "Why can't they be someone elses problems for a while, Gin?"

"They can be," she said simply. "Give up your role as Minister. Retire. Announce that Harry James Potter is done with taking care of others. Walk away."

Harry looked at her, knowing she wasn't done.

"Then, try and live with yourself every time you hear of a Death Eater attack. Harry, I know you. This isn't just going to magically go away if it's someone elses problem. So long as it's happening, it will be your problem. You'll make it your problem."

"Then what do we do? Live with it?"

"No. Do what you can to make living as a Dark Wizard as unpleasant a prospect as possible. Discourage it, and fight it. But this time, don't stop at cutting off the head... stab it in the heart and be done with it."

"I'm tired of killing, Gin."

"I know, love. I know," Ginny moved closer to him, her arms squeezing him close. "But you, and the rest of the Order, are the best people to do it. People have faith in you."

Harry snorted. "And we all know where that gets them, don't we? Twenty six years, Ginny, and their faith in me still hasn't ended it."

"Yet their faith in you continues. I wonder why, Harry?

Harry smiled sadly, "I have no idea. They have no reason to."

"Maybe it's because you continue to give them hope," she suggested softly.

"A fat lot of good hope is as the Death Eaters destroy their homes and kill their families. A lot of good hope does them then."

"Sometimes, it's only hope that gets us through those times, Harry. Sometimes it's the only thing to hold onto. What do you think got me through it?"

Harry was silent a moment, knowing she was speaking the truth. Ginny had lived what he was talking about. She had lived in fear for her life, and for the lives of her children. Her home had been attacked in the middle of the night, her husband killed... she knew what she was talking about. She'd lived it.

After a moment of holding her, he spoke quietly. "What is justice, Ginny?"

Ginny sighed. "I don't know, Harry. Sometimes, I wonder if there really is any such thing. I wonder..."

"What?"

"I wonder if justice isn't just some fancy idea that was created to strip us of our right to vengeance."

Harry stared at her.

"I mean, how did the four years that Draco served in Azkaban pay for the life he took? For what he did to Hermione? How could four years possibly provide restitution for that? How could it have if it had been one hundred?

"Wasn't the whole point not punishment, but removing the danger from our society? How do you punish for the death of a wizard, much less a wizard of Dumbledore's ability? How much is enough for a crime of that magnitude? Shouldn't it really be about the removal of danger? The removal of living in fear?"

Harry nodded, "Yes."

"Then why let him out? Ever?"

"Yes," Harry agreed. "Why, indeed?"

"Harry?" The voice was quiet, but Harry was awake instantly. He opened his eyes to find Bill standing next to the bed, his wand out. Ready, Harry assumed, to cast a shielding spell, if necessary.

Harry smiled. His reputation of doing rash things when startled awake was well known in the household. Then, realizing that Bill was waking him in the middle of the night with what couldn't be good news, the smile vanished.

"What is it?"

"Shack just called," Bill said, as Harry threw his feet over the side of the bed. "There have been some attacks."

"How many?"

"Six separate attacks, all in southern England."

"How many muggles dead?"

"No muggles," Bill said quickly.

Harry looked up at him, surprised, then stood and grabbed a pair of jeans, "Oh?"

"No. Half bloods. All of them."

"What time is it?"

"Three."

"Okay," Harry pulled on the jeans, his mind already working. "Get Ron. Meet me in the kitchen."

As Bill left, Ginny stirred. "Harry?"

"Go back to sleep, Gin."

"What is it? Was that Bill?"

"Yes, it's okay. Ministry business. Go back to sleep."

"Ministry business in themiddle of the night?" she asked sleepily, sitting up.

"There have been some attacks. I don't have many details. Go on, I promise that I'll wake you if you need to be up."

"The girls?" Ginny looked startled. "Hogwarts?"

"No, love. Halfblood families, all in southern England."

"Well, there's no way I'll sleep now," she too rose, slipping on a robe over her yellow nightie.

Harry, who had grabbed a tshirt, headed for the door.

"I'll make coffee," Ginny said quietly, trying to not wake anyone else.

"Thanks, Gin," Harry said.

As they passed Hermione's door, it quietly opened and a half-dressed Ron slipped out, still buttoning his jeans. Hermione, in her normal loose fitting drawstring PJ bottoms and tank top, followed him. She was busily pulling her rampant curls back into an elastic.

"Harry?" she looked up at him, enquiringly.

"Let's go find out what Bill knows," Harry stalled, leading the way downstairs.

Entering the kitchen, he found Bill on the phone and Charlie already at the percolator, making coffee. Bill hung up as they filed in.

"That was Shack again. They're just dealing with the last site, and he'll be here in ten minutes or so."

"How many?"

"Six sites. Fourteen casualties."

"Not muggles?"

"Nope. Every one of them halfblood families."

"Anyone..." Ginny's eyes asked the question they all feared the answer to.

"No," Bill shook his head. "I didn't recognize any of the names."

"Okay," Harry said, taking a breath. "Fourteen casualties. Any survivors?"

"Several," Bill confirmed. "Six in St Mungoes. One uninjured."

"Any pattern to the attacks?" Harry fired at him.

Bill shook his head. "Other than all being in southern England... two near Bath, one near Oxford, two on the outskirts of London, and one in Devon."

At the mention of Devon, Ginny and Ron both looked at him. The Burrow was in Devon.

"Nowhere near home," Bill said at their look. "All the families were mixed, or of halfblood heritage. Ages ranged from..."

Bill swallowed, finding it hard to continued.

"Bill?" Harry prompted.

"Ages ranged," he continued. "From three to forty seven. Twelve of the fourteen casualties were under the age of fifteen. None of the survivors were children."

Ginny gasped, and Hermione reached out and clasped her hand. Too many children had died in these wars.

"The only thing that these families had in common were their heritages, and they all had children under fifteen in the household. None of them were pureblood."

"Whatever that means," Hermione grumbled.

"Six separate attacks that were that spread out," Harry speculated. "They've probably got at least three or four Death Eaters at each site..."

"Shack says more like seven or eight from the evidence."

Harry winced. "So, we're talking forty or fifty of them... on this alone."

"Looks like it, Harry."

At that moment, there was a pop announcing Kingsley Shacklebolt's arrival. He looked a mess, his robes were dirty, and his eyes looked hollow.

Ginny recognized that look. It was the look of a man who had witnessed too much death in too short a time.

"Shack, you okay?" Harry asked.

"You got coffee?" Kingsley asked as an answer, collapsing onto a kitchen chair. Charlie placed a steaming mug of coffee and a bottle of firewhiskey on the table in front of him.

"Thanks," he shot a grateful look at the second Weasley brother.

"How bad?" Ron asked quietly.

"Unbelievably," Kingsley sighed. "I've never... The night of the final battle? This was worse."

"How?" Ron said, stunned. He'd been in the thick of it the night Dumbledore had died... the night Harry had killed Voldemort. He'd had nightmares for years...

Kingsley shot a look at the women present and then looked back to Ron, "Just trust me. It was worse."

Ginny felt tears fill her eyes. She had a pretty good idea of what he was avoiding saying. She'd read the auror's report from the night Seamus Finnigans' family had died.

"All half bloods? You're sure?" Harry asked.

"All," Shack confirmed, taking a healthy shot of the firewhiskey. He took a deep breath, then glanced again at Ginny and Hermione before looking back to Harry. "They were mostly children, Harry."

"Dear God," Harry said, seeing the look in the auror's eyes. Knowing full well the things this senior auror had witnessed through the years... Harry shuddered at the thought of how bad it must have been.

"If I ever find out the names of the bloody bastards..." Shack shook his head, almost sobbing. Taking a breath, he lifted the whiskey bottle again.

"How long?" Harry asked.

"It was over in minutes," Shack replied. "Except for the few they kept to play with. Children."

"I don't want that in the papers," Harry stated. "You gag the Prophet if you have to. Shut it down, I don't care. But that stays out. The whole point was to instill fear. We'll risk Death Eater attacks, but there isn't a parent alive who would read about that and not run."

Harry turned quickly to Ron, "Ron, I want the twins and their families here. It's no longer safe."

Ron nodded, and immediately apparated away. Harry paced silently for a moment.

"Harry?" Bill began. "I..."

"Bill, we need to upgrade the wards on the house. I want this place to be better protected than Hogwarts."

"Harry..."

"Whatever you need to do that, Bill. I don't care. I want this place to be a bloody fortress they can't find. They're not getting to my family."

"Hermione..." he turned on her, his green eyes blazing. "You need to get word to Stephen Lewis. Things are heating up and it's not going to be just us. He doesn't need details, just tell him that it's going to be... it's going to be bad, and to let us know anything he hears that sounds... odd."

Hermione nodded and left the room.

"Charlie?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"Amelia is a mixed blood, isn't she?"

"Her dad's a wizard, her mum's a muggle." Charlie confirmed.

Harry nodded, "If she wants them here, bring them."

"Harry... what you said last night? About the return of the High Treason laws?" Kingsley started. "You meant it?"

Harry took a deep breath, looking at all the faces in the room, all looking to him.

"Every word, Shack. Every last word."

Well, there's chapter two. I got some lovely reviews to chapter one... thank you all!

Merlindamage: Wow, you're good. I'm going to have to slap you for being in my head again... but hey, I do so love it when you all guess... because my muse laughs in that evil way, and I know I'm about to see some interesting plot developments...

Larna Mandrea: I originally had it set up so I was going to post a "preview" of chapter one, and leave it off at the end of that first scene... and then I read the rules of posting at the site, and apparently, that's not allowed. So you got it all in one. Goosebumps? Goosebumps are good...

azntgr01: Well, maybe you'll see...

James Milamber: My prophecy writing? Hmm, and here I thought Snape came up with that...

Shotgunn: Keep reading, and keep reviewing. You never know WHAT someone might be called in an "off" moment.

Saerry Snape: Ominous always keeps me reading!

CQ