Erised's Bane
Author's Note: Sorry for the long time it took me to update. My Internet connection was out because of the stupid Windows Blaster bug so for five days I was disconnected and I just now got back on and found time outside of marching band to write something. So anyway, I hope you like my idea and I really hope you tell me what you think. Cheers!
Disclaimer: Yet another disclaimer. I hate these things and I really doubt that J.K. would sue some sixteen-year-old from Texas for stealing Harry, especially since I am making no money whatsoever from this, but yeah, copyright law and all that crud. So I don't own Harry Potter.
Chapter Thirteen: Press Conference
"Harry, wake up. Yeh've got to go."
Groggily Harry sat up in bed, squinting as he looked around the room. Though he wasn't wearing his glasses and everything looked fuzzy, he could tell that there wasn't any light from outside and it had to be either very early in the morning or very late at night. Stretching, he reached to the side table and slipped on his glasses, taking a quick glance at his watch, which confirmed his suspicions. It was barely five in the morning.
"Who is it?" he muttered, realizing that he had awoken because somebody had spoken to him. However, nobody appeared to be in the room. Nobody, that was, except for the image of Lord Hornswaggle who was watching Harry from his frame. "Did you wake me up?" he asked.
"Yep. The woman asked me to. Sabrina Young. Says you've gotta to some press thing."
Harry nodded as realization suddenly struck. It was the morning of October fourth, and he was due at the Ministry of Magic by twelve. "Did you say Professor Young was waiting for me?" he asked, stifling a yawn.
"Mmm...yes. She said get dressed and come on out. Wear muggle clothes and bring something for the ministry." With that, Lord Hornswaggle took a swig of a bottle he had clutched in his hands. Harry wondered for the first time whether it were possible for a painting to become an alcoholic--or, more appropriately, if it were possible for a painting to be painted as an alcoholic. He didn't think he had ever seen Lord Hornswaggle without a pipe or a bottle nearby.
Shrugging, he flipped open the lid of his trunk and pulled out a pair of jeans and a black T-shirt, one of the few that he owned that Dudley had not previously worn. He pulled them on and brushed a hand through his hair as he reached down for the school robes he had tossed over a chair the night before, suddenly pausing as he saw the dull sheen of leather from the innards of his trunk and remembered the leather robes he had wished for on his birthday. He shook his head and laughed, imagining the reaction he would get from the public if he showed up in such robes. And it was precisely that reaction which a moment later had him carefully folding the robes and pushing them into the bookbag he had emptied the night before. Tossing it over his shoulder and struggling not to second-guess himself, turn back, and pick up his regular robes, he pushed open the door to find Young waiting for him, yawning widely.
Except for Remus and on one occasion McGonagall, Harry had never before seen a Hogwarts teacher in muggle clothing and the effect was quite overwhelming. Being used to seeing Young dressed in her typical sweeping robes and hat, the image of her in typical muggle jeans and a T-shirt espousing some band called the Ravishing Vampires was quite strange indeed.
"Are you ready?" she asked, noticing for the first time that Harry had come out of his room.
"Yes, I am." He replied. "Why are we leaving so early?"
"We're traveling through muggle London." Young explained as she took off down the hall. Harry followed as she led him towards the great hall. "The Ministry has outlawed all Portkeys to and from the ministry and have placed Apparition wards within two-hundred feet all around. There isn't another Portkey or Apparition point around except for The Leaky Cauldron or Level 16 1/3 on the Underground. Since Level 16 1/3 is closer we'll be going there. I threw in an extra hour because I thought you might like to eat something." She looked down at a watch on her wrist. "Unless of course you would like something here, of course. I'm sure the house-elves could whip something up."
"No." Harry said, smiling faintly. "That's all right."
Young nodded and wordlessly continued leading Harry. They left the castle and Harry frowned, not understanding for a moment why they were leaving until he realized that Young would be apparating and thus had to leave school grounds. After a moment, he ventured a question. "Why are you taking me?" he asked. Young tossed a look over her shoulder and smiled humorlessly.
"Last night was the full moon and Remus is still somewhat ill, Tonks and Kingsley are still working on the Lenina Crowne case, and Arthur, Molly, and Bill are making preparations at the ministry. As for Dumbledore, I believe he left an hour or so ago. Fudge wished to speak with him." Harry jumped when he heard the bitter way Young pronounced the minister's name and looked at her in surprise, but the blank expression on her face told him nothing. He waited for her to carry on until he realized that in that way she had she had stopped in the middle of a thought and didn't seem intent on completing it. He hovered on the edge of asking her more, but finally decided against it and continued walking in silence.
Finally they came to the gates of Hogsmeade, but instead of venturing towards the more populated area where the Three Broomsticks and Zonko's was, she led him towards the residential homes. Glancing over at the houses, he saw that the shades were all drawn and not a light was to be seen. Appropriately, even magic folk didn't seem to think it was normal to be up quite so early in the morning.
Young continued walking until they came to the house at the end of the twisted street. She stepped up and knocked quietly. After a long moment he heard a faint clicking and the door slid open. A woman with snow-white hair pulled up into a knot nestled right on top of the crown of her head peered out, her blue eyes shining when she saw the two of them. "Oh, Sabrina dear, it has been so long." She stepped out and Harry stifled a small snigger when he saw her fuzzy pink robe and immense bunny slippers that looked almost identical to real rabbits, complete with twitching nose.
"Hello, Mrs. Fletcher." She said. "We're here to travel to Level 16 1/3."
"Yes, yes, I got your letter." She smiled before turning to wink at Harry. "As if she thought I wouldn't let her use my house for a bit of apparition and Portkey travel. Ooh, and of course you'd be Harry. My word, your eyes. It's like Lily here again staring at me." She grinned and Harry was taken aback. "Sweet young thing." She muttered before shaking her head and turning back to Young. "Now you be careful, today. I'll be listening on the radio to the conference dear, and I wish you luck Harry. But oh, I get carried away. You just want to leave, don't you?"
"If you don't mind." Young said hastily, looking again at her watch. "I'm dreadfully sorry I can't stay and chat."
"Oh, I don't mind dear." Mrs. Fletcher said. "You'll come speak with me sometime won't you?"
"Of course." Young said wearily. Something about the tone of her voice made her cringe, and when he turned and saw the steely look in Young's eyes Harry got the distinct impression that in all probability Young wouldn't return at all-. This was something that shocked him, as he was under the idea that Young might be a tad absent-minded but not unkind. He shook his head and looked back--whatever it was he thought he had seen, it had already vanished. "Do you have the Portkey for us?" she asked.
"Right here, dear." Mrs. Fletcher said. She pointed to a table nearby and Harry saw on top of it a glowing blue apple. When Harry looked back, she smiled. "I know you're going out somewhere to eat, but I believe you should at least get something healthy down. You know how restaurant food is, so unhealthy."
"Thank you, Mrs. Fletcher." Harry responded.
"I'll apparate right after you go." Young said. "This portkey should keep you from getting too close to the apparation area. It can be dangerous there. I remember when I was in my sixth year of Hogwarts there was a big ordeal in the news when two witches tried apparating to the exact same area at the same time." She shook her head. "Goodness, it seems like only yesterday we were all looking at the picture in the news. I don't think I ever found out if those poor girls ever got separated or if they went around with two heads for the rest of their lives." She sighed. "Well, go on. What are you waiting for?"
After staring at her for a moment and acquiring yet another fear about apparating, which he was well aware he was due to begin learning soon, seeing as how he was quickly approaching the legal age, he walked over and took hold of the Portkey. The familiar pulling at his navel came and he began spinning faster and faster until he had landed hard, feet first, on hard brick that was much different from the thick rug in Mrs. Fletcher's house.
He glanced around and saw more witches and wizards appearing and disappearing. The area was much larger than he expected, and as he looked around he saw a shop nearby that was selling 'authentic muggle clothing'. A middle-aged wizard was walking out wearing a bright turquoise sweat suit, muttering about having to wear strange clothing just because he was going out among the muggles, and another in a kilt and gray jacket was stuffing a pair of robes into a locker along one wall. He glanced up when he heard a crack nearby and Young started walking over, pushing her wand into a large black purse slung over her shoulder.
Seeing what Harry was looking at, she nodded. "This is more a business area than anything. A lot of ministry members used to travel on the underground through here until they got permits for apparating in public view. Of course, it never was illegal but it certainly is frowned upon."
"So who does travel here?" Harry asked.
"People who have to go to the more public places to work. That and people are don't bother with apparation and use portkeys more often." She looked once more at her watch and nodded towards one of many glass doors against one wall. "Come on, we have to catch the train." They walked towards the door and stepped through. Harry, not knowing what to expect, was quite surprised to find himself already seated on the train. There were very few people on the car with him and Young, and the ones that were there were too sleepy or intent on business to notice the two who had appeared apparently out of nowhere--of course, there also magical reasons for that as well, but it wasn't something Harry wanted to bother thinking about at the moment.
After a long moment they began traveling. Harry, who had been expecting to have to guide Young as he had guided Hagrid, was surprised to find that his professor was quite comfortable handling muggle affairs. After an approximate fifteen minutes of travel the train stopped. Young stood and motioned Harry to follow.
They two of them walked up and out into the street above. The sun appeared to have risen while they were traveling underground and the sky was now tinged a grayish-blue. They walked in silence down the street until they reached an area that was slowly filling with people. Harry saw that it was a group of restaurants. "Where would you like to go?" she asked without interest.
Harry looked around for a moment before spotting a small place that appeared less populated than the others. "There." He pointed to it and Young nodded. They wandered in and sat at an empty booth in the back corner. After only a moment a young woman with bright blonde hair approached them.
"Hi! My name is Jean and I'll be serving you today. Would you like a menu or would you like to go ahead and order?"
"I just want a piece of toast and some coffee." Young said. "Strawberry jam. Harry?"
"I'll look at a menu." He said. Jean nodded and handed him a laminated piece of paper that looked to be quite old. He glanced at it a moment before handing it back. "How about an egg and cheese omelet and a large orange juice?"
"All right." She scribbled down the order before picking up the menu. "And what would your name be?"
"Harry Potter. Pleased to meet you, Jean."
She smiled and Harry noticed that she was very pretty indeed. "All right, Harry. If you need anything just call me." She went away and Harry found himself staring after her for a moment, realizing just how pleasant it was to have met somebody who didn't already know who he was for a change.
Young yawned and catching Harry's eye laughed. "I'm sorry, I'm just a bit tired. I was up late reading. I'm afraid I forgot that I had something to do this morning."
"That's fine." Harry said. He ran a hand through his hair, hovering on the edge of asking Young the question that had been on the edge of his mind for the past few days. Finally deciding that the setting away from school allowed him to ask such a question, he leaned forward on his elbows. "Uhm...Professor...I was wondering..."
Young looked up at him a moment before sighing and laughing softly. "You wanted to know how well I knew Lily and James?"
"And Sirius." Harry added automatically, even though he hadn't realized until just then that the question was on his mind.
"I didn't." She sighed. "At least, I didn't know James and Sirius. But Lily..." she paused a moment before deciding to move on. "Well, we were close friends. We didn't have quite the group that your father did, though." She laughed again. "And certainly we never got in as much trouble."
Harry managed a small smile and waited for her to continue, but to his dismay she had made yet another of her sudden stops. He looked over and opened his mouth to speak to her, but she had already turned to stare out the window. He glanced up as the muggle waitress came back over to his table and laid out their plates. "Here's your check." She said, placing a small slip of paper in front of him. "Come back soon."
________________________________________________________________________
A twinge of an almost imperceptible feeling went through Harry as he came around the corner of the dingy alley to see the now-familiar telephone booth standing there. He crowded in after Young and the soothing voice asked once more for their names and business.
"Professor Sabrina Young and Harry Potter for the Ministry Press Conference." Young said hurriedly as she glanced at her watch--it was already ten till twelve. She handed him one of the golden buttons that came flying out of the coin return--HARRY POTTER, PRESS CONFERENCE. He pocketed it and came out into the hall, which was currently bustling with activity. He noticed that where once had been a fountain there now was a pool of calmly rippling water with no adornment whatsoever. But he only had time to notice this--before he could even think a great uproar had resounded through the lobby and reporters shrieking questions and the flash of many cameras in his eyes had surrounded him.
"Let us through!" Young said in exasperation, taking Harry harshly by the shoulder and pulling him through the throng. They separated in confusion and Young quickly sped through as they reformed behind them and began following as the two of them headed towards an obscure doorway where a wizard with plum robes and a slicked-back blonde hair was waiting. He ushered them in quickly and slammed the door back behind them, instantly muffling the many voices.
Harry sighed and leaned against the wall, swiping a hand across his forehead. "Sorry about that. The wolves weren't supposed to arrive until an hour from now but the news that you were coming brought them a bit early." He shook his head. "I'm Logan Garrison, senior assistant to the Minister of Magic." He reached out a hand to Harry. "Pleased to meet you."
Still reluctant to trust the Ministry after the fiasco of the year before, Harry reached out his hand and took Logan's. "Yeah, okay." Harry said, tripping over his own tongue.
"We have quite a bit to do today before you're completely ready. You did bring robes, I trust? For something like this it wouldn't do to appear in the newspapers dressed like a muggle."
"I've got robes." Harry said, shifting his shoulder to indicate the bag that was still slung over it. "Do you want me to change now?"
"I guess you can if you want." Logan said. "The Minister would like to speak with you in about fifteen minutes. The Junior Assistant, Percy Weasley will be along in a moment to take you to him. He's a tall redhead..."
"I...know Percy." Harry said, unable to resist making a slight face when he thought of Percy and the fiasco of the year before. Logan thankfully did not seem to notice as he turned to Young.
"And you are Sabrina, are you not?" he asked. "Will you be staying?"
"Unfortunately, no." she said. She turned to Harry and nodded. "Good luck this afternoon. I have some business to attend to, but I do believe Molly and Arthur should be along any moment to keep you company." She turned away, giving him a brisk smile. "I'll see you later."
"Yeah." Harry nodded back. "Goodbye."
She slipped out of the door, dodging a group of reporters as the door snapped closed behind her. Logan looked down at a scroll he had just unrolled for a moment before nodding. "You can change right through there." He said, indicating a washroom nearby. "Be quick, you really don't want to keep Fudge waiting." He said as he turned back and slipped out of a side door that Harry supposed led to yet another part of the ministry.
He waited a pause before turning and slipping through to the washroom. He jumped when multiple Harry's jumped out at him all at once before he realized that the washroom was made up almost entirely of mirrors. Grimacing at his reflection and trying half-heartedly to flatten his hair, he pulled open his bag and out came the leather robes.
If he regretted choosing such a surprising thing to wear for a press conference, it was too late to change his mind now unless he wished to summon his school robes from clear across the country. It was this thought which persuaded him to slip them on and buckle them neatly, pinning the glinting ministry button on his chest and hiding the Order pendant from view. Shrugging some of the stiffness out of his shoulders he turned back and went into the room, where Percy was already waiting.
They stared at one another for a long moment before Percy coughed and lifted his chin a smidge, just enough to let Harry know (in his opinion at least) that he was the authority in the area.
"Minister Fudge would like to speak with you, Mr. Potter. If you would come this way..."
"Come on Percy, you've known me for six years. What's with the 'Mr. Potter' guff?" he muttered under his breath.
Pretending not to notice, Percy once again stiffened his back. "If you would follow me, Mr. Potter." Rolling his eyes, he let Percy lead him down the passage Logan had disappeared down a moment ago. They emerged out into a white hall with doors going down either wall. None of them appeared different than any other than the one on the very end, which had a set of scales and a magic wand crossed over one another on a brass plaque. Percy proudly pulled open the door and waved a hand for Harry to enter.
No sooner had he stepped into the room than did the door snap shut after him, making him slightly jump. When he looked up he immediately saw Fudge staring back at him from across a thick oaken desk which was neatly stacked with papers and different magical items Harry had never seen before. Fudge stood and stiffly marched out from behind the desk, hand extended.
"Good of you to come, Mr. Potter." He said. "As always, the ministry offers its sincerest apologies for any inconvenience you may have been caused in the past by our..." he stopped a moment, as if searching for the mistake, "over-cautiousness." He finally settled on, making Harry wonder whether he should shout at Fudge or laugh in his face.
"Yes, sir. Of course." Harry said as politely as possible, though his voice was strained by his harsh attempt to keep from sounding hostile. "I'll do whatever I can to help the ministry." He said, though he secretly thought to himself that the day he would help the Ministry willingly would be the day that he found out Snape was really his father.
"Good, good lad." Fudge said. "You always were...ahem...a good lad." He stopped short, realizing he had just contradicted half the things he had ever said about Harry. "Yes...right." he shook his head in confusion. "Now...I was just wondering what it was you were planning on saying before we go out there today."
"Oh yeah." Harry said. "Of course." A long silence stretched out for a minute before Harry suddenly seemed to comprehend that Fudge actually wanted Harry to tell him what had been planned. He frowned when he saw the crumpled pieces of folded paper Harry extracted from his pocket, but said nothing.
"All right..." he cleared his throat. "Here it goes. I..."
"So sorry I'm late, I was apprehended by Mr. Garrison in the hall who just wanted to tell me what a wonderful job he thinks I've been doing with the school in this time of crisis." Both Harry and Fudge turned when the door slid open. Dumbledore was standing there, a menacing look in his usually merry eyes. Harry got the sudden feeling that this early canting of his statement had not been authorized. "Oh, here you are Harry." He said, looking at him. "What a pleasant...surprise."
"Hello, Albus." Fudge said, obviously ruffled. "I was just asking Harry to go over some minor details of the speech with me..."
"Now, now, Cornelius." Dumbledore said, crossing to Fudge's side. "I'm sorry, but it doesn't appear as if there is any time for it. You see, the press has already gathered in the conference room and if you want any time for your speech we had better get out there now."
"What?" Fudge blinked before shaking his head. "Right. Right, of course you are. Shall we?"
"Of course." Dumbledore began out the door and Harry started after him. Suddenly, however, Fudge reached out and grabbed his arm. When Harry looked back into his eyes it wasn't the look of an emotionless figurehead that he saw--it was the half-maddened look of somebody who had lived with a great deal of stress in a short deal of time, and Harry saw for the first time that Fudge appeared to have lost a lot of his rotund figure and was sagging with age.
"Be careful what you say, boy." He hissed, looking cautiously after Dumbledore. "You don't want people to think ill of you." Harry stared for a moment before he was released and went back after Dumbledore.
"I'm glad to see that Professor Young got you here safe." He said serenely as Harry fell in step next to him. "I must admit, I got a bit worried."
"I'm fine." Harry said. "Just a bit tired."
"I hope you didn't let Fudge worry you." Dumbledore said quietly. "As much as his ignorance has angered me, he is a good man. He is simply afraid...as so many of us are now, it appears." He added, his voice downtrodden. He stopped at a wide door and placed his hand on the handle. "Now take a deep breath." He said, nodding.
Harry nodded and turned as Dumbledore pushed it open. He blinked as a thousand flash cameras went off at once in his face. The Press Conference was underway.
________________________________________________________________________
Fudge had been speaking already for twenty minutes. Harry turned to look at the Minister as he continued stating facts for the reporters who were gathered there. The scribbling of numerous Quick Quotes Quills filled the empty pauses where Fudge lingered, either for impact or sometimes simply to catch his breath.
"And so it is without further stalling I must state once again what I have been saying for the past few months. Indeed, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has returned and is behind the rash of attacks perpetuated lately." Voices broke out in unison and Fudge raised his hands in a futile attempt to calm them.
One woman stepped forward, Quill poised on her notepad. "Jocelyn, from the Morning Scroll in New York. Minister, is it true that noted officials of the French Ministry and American government have been spotted with Death Eaters in the past few months?"
"I am afraid I cannot answer that." He said. "You will have to speak to Secretary of Magical Affairs Harrison Jackson and the French Minister Jacques Trudeau." He nodded and the woman stepped back.
Another girl battled her way to the front, clutching her quill. "Minister! Demetre Ironhilt, the Herald Sun, Edinburgh, Scotland. Just how much is known about the escaped criminals, most notably Lucius Malfoy?"
"We have some very close leads." Fudge said gruffly, "and have every hope of seeing them soon back in custody. But as of yet they are still not back where they belong."
Fudge was just stepping back down when a young man called out. "Ian Richmond, The Daily Prophet. Minister, is it true that noted criminal Sirius Black was one of those who attempted to murder Mr. Potter in June? And if so, was he or was he not killed?"
Harry jumped and looked up, eyes darting from Fudge's anxious expression to the coolly poised expression of Dumbledore's. Silence seemed to stretch into eternity before Fudge answered. "We have no evidence regarding the matter," he stated slowly, "...but it is highly plausible and even probable that such is the case."
Instantly Harry felt the need to contradict Fudge's statement, to rise up and shout right there before every person in the room that what he had said was a lie, but a soothing hand on his arm bade him to sit. He didn't look into Dumbledore's eyes but something told him that if he did, the same message would be reflected there--this is not the time to fight this battle, do not make Sirius' death useless by making yourself vulnerable to the likes of them. So he said nothing and with his ire on edge, watched Fudge deliver a final statement and edge away from the podium to his seat.
Without a word, Logan motioned Harry up. Reluctantly he stood, taking a deep breath and hearing only the pounding of his own heart in his ears as he went forward before the throng. When he had taken his place, time seemed suspended for eternity as he looked out into the sea of expectant faces and they looked back, expectantly awaiting what he had to say as if he were a demigod of sorts--these same people who had willingly fed him to the wolves just months earlier.
And with a deep breath, he spoke his first words and the shell of suspended time around him and the world of reporters was broken. "I am Harry Potter and I have come here today at the request of the Ministry to tell you about what happened to me both a year and a half ago and this past June." He looked down at the podium as whispers broke out in the mass of reporters below and the scratching of many Quick Quotes Quills was audible. "I was entered into the TriWizard Tournament, which took place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, against my knowledge..." and thus he proceeded to retell a mottled, broken and nevertheless true version of events leading up to the return of Voldemort in an isolated cemetery in Little Hangleton. Most of the reporters listened patiently, with no real interest as this same version of events had been heard just recently in an interview that had appeared in the Daily Prophet (seeing as most chose to ignore it's original presence in The Quibbler).
But when he finished with these events he paused, seemingly unsure of himself. In truth, he knew exactly what he was going to say--he had had this same statement prepared for a while now, and certainly he had no need to change any of it now. But unbidden the events came to Harry as they had in actuality been, not mundane facts with which to appease a hungry mob of reporters. Intstead it was the emotional turbulence of a fifteen-year-old wizard who had just been blown the harshest of blows fate had to offer--the same boy who now at sixteen having been orphaned once was orphaned all over again.
He proceeded on as if the little pause hadn't existed. "Last fall, I was attacked with my Muggle cousin Dudley Dursley by dementors. I was able to save the both of us using a Patronus charm, but I was also threatened with expulsion. It was later found that Dolores Umbridge, who was Defense Against the Dark Arts professor last year and a noted Ministry member, was behind the attack."
"...and assuredly, she has been properly dealt with." He heard Fudge mumble in a low and almost shameful monotone behind his back.
"After returning to my school I began receiving vaguely veiled threats by none other than Lord Volde..." he paused when he heard a few gasps resound among the crowd and, resisting the urge to roll his eyes or either scream aloud Voldemort's name, "..You-Know-Who, which led me to believe that...certain people I cared about were in danger." He said, knowing that to drag Sirius' name into the fracas would be the worst thing possible.
"And so it was that at the end of last year I was threatened to come down to the Ministry. Several friends accompanied me, though I warned them against doing so..." he said, thinking back and wondering what his friends reactions would be when they saw this line in the papers, making them out to be aggressive Harry-guardians who relentlessly watched his back--of course to his mind, Neville might not be terribly displeased if his grandmother saw the article. "And when we arrived we were attacked by Vol...You-Know-Who and his Death Eaters. Since that time, he has continued threatening me, including a recent incident involving a Howler ." He stopped, tired of speaking, and looked up at the clock hanging suspended almost as if in mid-air. He hadn't realized it but he had been speaking for nearly a half-hour.
He cleared his throat. "I suppose..." he began, unsure if he was conducting things the proper way, "some of you would like me to answer a few questions?"
Immediately the scratching sounds of the quills were not the only sound as the press went into a mad rush to be the ones to question the world-famous Harry Potter.
"Just how often have you been receiving these threats?"
"Is it true that you have been both physically and emotionally abused by your muggle aunt and uncle for the entirety of your time living with them?"
"Did you ever meet the escaped convict Sirius Black, and what did he ever say to you about his betrayal and murder of your parents?"
Harry stood stunned as he looked at the young man who had asked the earlier question. The truth behind Sirius' relationship with his parents was apparently not well known, and those who did know of it respected it enough not to go speaking of it as if it were news of the latest Ministry dealings. Evidently, few people in the press knew of the story either, as many has gasped and for the first time since Harry had begun speaking turned away from the almond-shaped green eyes and lightning-bolt shaped scar.
He breathed a sigh of relief when he heard Dumbledore stand and come over. He placed a protective hand on Harry's shoulder and nodded in stiff respect that also indicated dismissal of the group. "I think that is enough questions this evening." He said quietly, and even the press did not shout questions after him as he left the room.
But the immediate whisperings of hundreds of voices told him that tonight the story of the deaths of Lily and James Potter would be told as enthusiastically as they had been one October night fifteen years before.
________________________________________________________________________
Harry arrived back at Hogwarts at promptly five o'clock in the evening. Classes were out and the perpetual laziness all students had on the last day of the week between the last class of the day and supper hung thick in the air. But instead of heading towards the common room as he might have done on any other day he went straight to his room and shut the door, giving strict instructions to Lord Hornswaggle that any distraction was not to be tolerated unless the prospective visitor claimed utter emergency.
He stretched as he pulled the leather robes from the bag he had stuffed them back into for travel and lay down on top of his bed, contemplating the sun as it grew nearer to the horizon. Boundless unanswerable questions came to mind, as did the unease he felt when he realized however hard he or any other member of the Order may try Sirius would never be let rest in piece. Neither would his parents as each generation abounded with new curiosity seekers who came to gawk at his scar and marvel that a fully-grown witch and wizard had both been murdered he was still alive and well for them to gawk at.
Flipping over onto his stomach to nestle his head in the crook of his elbow, he thought not for the first time what it would be like to be Neville Longbottom. However painful it must be to see one's parents in St. Mungo's, to see them and never truly have them see you, could it possibly be as painful as this?
Even when he had had Sirius, the closest thing to a father, they had conducted their affairs in uttermost secrecy, being afraid that the next day would be the one where he was handed to the dementors and Harry was left once again alone in the world. Neville had at least the anonymity of going about school without people telling stories about his parents, without people talking in whispers of Avada Kedavra and the Potters and Harry, and if Harry remembered any of it, and marveling that he had lived while they had died, while all the while Harry knew his parents hadn't died because of what they were, but rather because of what he was...
It was enough to drive tenfold irrational, delusional, and all the same true thoughts into his mind and cause them to stay there and stew until a mixture resembling a potage of anxiety and guilt bubbled to the surface.
Sighing, he flipped onto his back to stare at the ceiling for a while. He was lying in that position when Lord Hornswaggle sidled into his frame and hollered a swarthy "Hullo!"
"I told you not to bother me." Harry growled.
"Sorry, 'arry." Lord Hornswaggle slurred. "But a young lad out there says he needs you right now. Dire straights, he claimed..."
"Tell Ron to go away." Harry muttered.
"It ain't Weasley, but it's close enough if ya' ask me." He mumbled.
"Then who is it?"
"Neville Longbottom." Harry immediately up.
"What did he want?" he asked urgently, wondering if his perhaps crude assertion that Neville was better off than he had perhaps triggered some sort of torturous event on Neville's part.
"Wouldn't say. Would yeh like me to turn the bloke away?"
Harry swung his legs off the bed and stood. "Let him in."
Lord Hornswaggled disappeared and a moment later the door stretched wide and opened to accommodate Neville's somewhat plump form. Harry pondered a moment at the necessity of this somewhat odd intrusion, when without warning Neville collapsed in Harry's chair and wiped an arm over his brow. "Can't believe it...you need to help..."
"What is it?" Harry said, only able to imagine what cruel fate awaited his friend.
"Oh, you'll never believe it..."
"What, Neville?" Harry said, now on the point of exasperation.
"Ginny Weasley just asked me out."
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Heh-heh...personally, I think one of my best chapters. I loved that last part most of all, don't you think it is inspired? Well, anyway, please read and review and tell me what you think because I highly value your opinion and think you are the best people when it comes to giving good reviews because I haven't gotten a terribly sucky one yet!
Hee-hee...and on a final note...
::commercial jingle::
OGDEN'S OLD FIREWHISKY!
Lord Hornswaggle--::appears holding a large goblet of Firewhisky:: It ain't a party till you've got your Ogden's so down a pint or ten today! I swear I'm not alcoholic!::
Harry--::Shakes head and calls AA to schedule an intervention::
Lord Hornswaggle--::In a fit of self-importance:: Ha! You can't intervene me because I'm a painting! And paintings don't get drunk. *hic* ::blink:: *hic*
::ending commerical jingle::
OGDEN'S OLD FIREWHISKY IS NOT MEANT FOR CHILDREN UNDER THE AGES of SIXTEEN!!!
Harry--Isn't the legal drinking age...
Lord Hornswaggle--::beaning Harry with bottle of Firewhisky:: SHUT UP!!