AN: Thank you to my reviewer… despite the lack of feedback, I am going to keep going because I know my story has potential. : ) But I know I would update much quicker if I got more reviews…

Chapter 3: Me Against the World

The fat wizard laughed harshly into my face. I dismally thought about filling out a form to put in the suggestion box: Mandatory breath mints for all interrogators. "You expect me to believe that cockamamie story?"

"I don't expect you to believe anything I say, actually," I remarked. Hey, it was true. Yawning, I looked at the small holding room I was in. Beige, or eggshell white, walls with a tiny little light hanging above me where a torch sat giving a warmer shine to the boring area. I was sitting in a rickety chair, with a small metal table in front of me. "Though, I must thank you for this glass of 'water,' detective. It is really thoughtful of you to try and drug me with Veritaserum."

"What?" He snapped his head towards me again, stopping his pacing. He had a bulbous red face and a gross little mustache. I wondered if he actually didn't lace that glass of water.

"Well?" I said, grabbing the glass and drinking deeply. I waited a few moments. "Ask away, old man, I am an open book."

He eyed me nervously, pondering if I put up a block to the potion or had taken a drought earlier to prevent my response to this magic. Clearing his throat, he said, "Where were you when Harry Potter was murdered?"

"I was in the hospital holding room. Ask anyone there, I was mortified, really. I didn't know what to do, no one did…" I said before I could try and mask the vulnerability. That's the one thing I hated about Veritaserum. You could never maintain your image under it.

"Was it Dark Magic that killed Harry Potter?" the man paused uncomfortably, deciding to keep questions small and to the point.

"Yes. Obviously," I added in snidely. Thank goodness for obvious answers.

"Do you know what kind of spell it was?" he quickly returned.

Sweating, I tried to not say anything. But this was Veritaserum. I couldn't not say anything. I shouldn't have drunk that water. "Well, I can't say I don't have speculations. I thought about in the past weeks. It might have been a Dark Ruin spell with powers from Stonehenge. Or it could have been a natural curse from Dark Spells from Grindewauld the Great Volume 2. The red flash it blinded us with could have been from a connection to Mars, if it was in the right alignment."

Shutting my mouth tightly, I frowned. It was incriminating to know so much about the Dark Arts.

"You know a lot about this, eh?" He cackled and grinned happily. If he present just right, if he used my words out of context, I would be done for.

"Of course I do. My father was deeply involved with Voldemort and would be daft if he didn't try to instill it in his son. But I didn't buy it, I serve no one." The Veritaserum tingled in my mouth. Dammit, Draco, keep digging that grave.

"Do you know who killed Harry James Potter?" he asked, jabbing again in the dark.

"No, I do not. It may have been a Death Eater." I replied. Not that my response would help me in any way.

"Would you be willing to give us a list of the names of Death Eaters that are still supporting the Dark Arts?" he asked pointedly, suddenly slamming his hands down on the table and staring me harshly in the eye.

I bit my lip hard, trying to stop this word vomit from my mouth. Sweat was gathering on my forehead, and I felt warmth and pain spread my lower lip. Copper blood dribbled down my chin. I couldn't breathe.

"No, I would not. They would do me more harm than you can. I'd rather rot in Azkaban than be tortured mercilessly for three months before being driven mad for the rest of my life. Even if it did do a service for the good of the Wizarding World."

The detective roared angrily and rattled the table more. He could not ask me who these persons were under Veritaserum, because I cast a spell to repress memories of house meetings and my father's "visitors."

"I order you, under the name of the Ministry of Magic, to divulge any names you know concerning Dark Arts supporters." He howled into my ear, pacing around me.

Sighing with relief, I smirked and replied, "I do not recall any names, everyone always wears a mask, but I am sure you know of this."

"Fine, I see how you are playing. Memory modifiers. Very clever, Mister Malfoy! As they say, like father," he spit out in a hiss, "like son. Rotten apples don't fall far from the decaying tree!"

"Please do not provoke me under such insults," I replied easily. "I do not want to hurt anyone."

He grabbed his wand and spoke clearly into it, "This has been Interview Five-twenty-six C, section M: Detective Ralph Polenie to Draco Malfoy. Finito." He paused, turning to me, and cracked his neck. "Right, Mr. Malfoy. Right. I don't care if you did this heinous crime against all humanity. Whether you outright murdered Harry Potter, I don't care. I don't care if you influenced it, planned it, premeditated with someone to do the deed. I don't care if someone did indeed steal your wand. You are going to rot in Azkaban, you will be begging for death. Anything despite the Dementors feeding slowly, agonizingly off of your soul. You are the last of the Malfoy bloodline and I do not care if I breech every right in the history of mankind. You will die as a known disgrace, as a coldhearted murderer. You will pay just for the association of Malfoy."

Blinking, I stared at him disbelievingly. "Very powerful speech… Mr., what is it? Polenie? I respect your hatred of the Malfoy family. But you are going to have to live with that. Somehow, I will survive, despite Harry's rather… unfortunate… death. And I will make sure my family legacy will go on, with every ounce of my being."

The door burst open as the newest Minister of Magic waltzed in, a young lady with a mousy look. "Did you get the confession, Ralph?"

"Not quite, but some lovely stuff we can take out of context. It's just as good," he boisterously snarled to her.

"Good boy," the minister replied happily. She took off her glasses to stare me levelly in the eye. "Can we make this a rush case? I want a hearing within the next week, and a conviction by the end of the month."

"Of course, Harietta, I will put it on high alert. Did you call The Prophet?" The slobbering little man was making himself a hero over my imprisonment. The uptight woman was using this to ensure her ministry reign. Slowly, it sunk into my brain. The world of Magic might actually be happy to use me as a scape goat. And no one would disagree.

"Oh, right. Well, Miss Skeeter is waiting for you out in the lobby. I was coming in here for just that—she is interested in getting a personal quote from Mr. Malfoy, and one from you, and I've already given her some files on the Malfoy Family." She turned to me, and smiled like a wolf, "It seems you've got some dirty laundry. But don't worry, public humiliation has a very good catharsis on your soul."

"We need to get going, Harietta. Get the guards and I will go make a statement—Oh, wait a second," Polenie grabbed the back of my robes and hauled me upward. "This one is under Veritaserum. I don't want the truth getting out!"

They stared at me and broke out in laughter. The minister grabbed a guard from outside to magically cuff me and limit my movement. "Accio! Kingston Potion!" someone in the room shouted. A bubbling purple potion shot into the guard's hand and he turned to me.

"Trust me," the deep-voiced man said sympathetically, "you are better off without the influence of the truth spell. Reporters are nasty and could ask you anything."

I simply sighed, sneered at the man, and gulped it down when he held the vial up to my mouth. "Out we go," he said sternly.

"I don't need to be ordered around," I bit. "I'm a grown man."

The guard pulled me towards the lobby of the Ministry. It wasn't far from the interrogation chamber, and before long I saw the glare of photographs being taken of me. Smirking, I stood up straight and began to change my persona. The mask was back, and before long I was a handsome gentleman smiling serenely as I walked up toward the reporters.

"Mr. Polenie! Mr. Polenie! Can you say anything about the validity of Draco Malfoy as a suspect?" came from the multiple shouts.

"All I can say to you is that the Ministry of Magic is doing everything in its power to try and eventually convict the monster behind this murder on humanity," said Polenie smartly.

He backed away when I appeared with the guard, away from the raised platform as I was escorted to it. He glared at me, which was quite immature in my opinion. At least keep a watchful eye on the cameras, you fool!

The guard shouted clearly, "Mr. Malfoy cannot entertain too many questions, especially in-depth with his case. I ask you to be brief."

"Mr. Malfoy! Mr. Malfoy!" they all roared. I simply smiled and nodded gentlemanly until one of their voices broke over the others.

"Mr. Malfoy! Can you make a statement concerning your innocence for this murder?"

"Despite the feelings against me and my family, there is no possible way I could have killed Harry Potter, as I did not have my wand at the time! Your Ministry of Magic is sitting here busying the entire ministry with me when there is still a murderer out there, getting away with this! Another prime example of the neglect that the newest Minister has wreaked on the citizens of England! I urge all who can hear my voice to know the truth: I did not kill Harry Potter, nor do I know who did. The only reason I stand here today is because of the Minister's personal conflicts with my family! You cannot stand for this injustice! Do not let the Ministry of Magic do this to you!"

I put on another mask, after my rushed speech. It was one of innocence, giving off the most pathetic, pitiful aura I could. I was trustworthy in everyone's eyes.

As I was pulled off the platform, the Minister blushed furiously and took the stage. I raised my voice as she began to speak, "ISN'T THAT RIGHT, HARIETTA? A VENDETTA AGAINST A HARDWORKING, ENGLISH FAMILY!"

There were murmurs and excited glances and shouts, "Mrs. Barnett! Mrs. Barnett!"

I rolled my eyes when my back was turned from them. I was escorted to a holding cell in the depths of the Ministry building. I stared at the four walls. This is exactly what I did not want. Everyone had influenced me so much, their thoughts clogged my head, shouting to me who my character really was. I needed to find that out myself. And now I had already gone and acted badly, putting on an evil mask and thinking shrewdly again. I needed to just clear my thoughts and find my identity all over again.

Grumbling, I sat on the cot and began a "soul-search." How very un-Malfoy. It was disgustingly vulnerable and stereotypically "troubled."

Finding a new self-loathing for this type of crisis, I punched a wall and realized it was eleven a.m. and I had been interrogated and beat around all night. I resolved to catch some shuteye before deciding which side my loyalties lay with.


Gaping, I grabbed my wand and turned on a projection from the Wizarding News channel. I saw some slimy Ministry detective speaking about Malfoy. I nervously listened to his accusations.

"For those of you just tuning in," the reporter professionally added while the man left the stage and a new person was getting set up, "we stand here today to report to all of the Wizarding World that Harry Potter's murderer is supposedly in custody. The shocking news? The suspect for this crime is esteemed wizard, Draco Malfoy. Would he risk his aristocratic family legacy for the murder of Potter? Let's find out!"

The projection zoomed in on the stage to show Draco Malfoy smiling like a gentleman before the crowds. I blinked several times, to adjust to such an inviting figure. Usually Malfoy was sneering, leering, or smirking smugly. Not seeming so innocent, so pure… so perfect to the world's inspecting eyes.

"Despite the feelings against me and my family, there is no possible way I could have killed Harry Potter, as I did not have my wand at the time! Your Ministry of Magic is sitting here busying the entire ministry with me when there is still a murderer out there, getting away with this! Another prime example of the neglect that the newest Minister has wreaked on the citizens of England! I urge all who can hear my voice to know the truth: I did not kill Harry Potter, nor do I know who did. The only reason I stand here today is because of the Minister's personal conflicts with my family! You cannot stand for this injustice! Do not let the Ministry of Magic do this to you!"

I sat still agape, and even more confused. Nothing was adding up. Logically, someone like Draco Malfoy would of course be tied with Death Eaters and Voldemort and the like. Logically, he would have hated Harry for the connection to ruining his family. Harry was the reason Voldemort needed his father, and that had caused his father to hurt his mother so. But then again, logically, my mind argued back that Malfoy would not show up at Harry's funeral. Just as logically, he would never have been invited.

Something still pulled at the back of my memories. But I needed a device to help me see everything clearly, from an outside view.

First, I needed a shower and to stop by Gringott's.


Walking briskly out of the ominous bank, I clutched my purse tightly and thought of wear I needed to go. It was a small specialty shop that Remus had spoken to me about, one that would cater rare expensive magical items without having to be put on an excessive backorder. I cleared out of the streets and onto a pathway into a forest. Seeing it was safe to Apparate, I grabbed my wand and concentrated on the address Outside 56 Teakettle Lane, in Bridgeton, Scottland.

With a quick little pop!, I felt myself being carried away towards my destination. It would take longer, as this was trans-country. And it was excessively tiring for my magic. Within two minutes, I landed gracefully on the front doorstep to a small cottage. Stepping back a bit, I stared around me. It was an idyllic street with shoppes lining the cobblestone avenue, all with a surrounding patch of yard. With this, every store was individual. Some were dark cottages with mud yards, while others were merry and bright with flowers overflowing from the ground.

I looked back to the building in front of me. It was excessively cute, even by my standards. Hermione Granger would never utter "cute," or even think of it. But it was a sweet little store with a warming row of white daisies popping out of the trimmed grass.

I entered and felt warmth spread through me. "Well?" said a small witch from behind the counter.

"Excuse me?" I tried to be polite, but it was distracting by the joy I felt springing forth in my chest. The store was quiet looking, with a soft armchair in the front corner. The windows had handmaid crocheted drapery, so as to allow as much lighting in as possible. A fire roared in the back of the shop, but in this situation it "mewed happily" in its fireplace for it was too joyous a place for roaring. A large maroon rug covered most of the creaky wooden floors, with a design of Victorian symbols and such. To my right I saw a small bookshelf with a few very rare novels and texts sitting picturesquely there. The counter behind which the woman stood was made of stone, the top of a varnished wood. She stood with a hand on her hip, smiling proudly. She had long, vibrant blonde hair and a warm, loving figure. She wore a distinctly feminine sundress which hung low on her chest. The lady's cheeks were rosy and her features delicately soft.

I shook my head to clear these thoughts, it was the most and the longest time I had ever thought about my surroundings!

"What…?" I restated.

The woman shouted in delight, "Exactly!"

"What just happened?" I said, smiling despite myself as I entered further into the room.

Before she could reply a burly man cursed from a backroom, startling the woman and myself. "What the hell did you do this time, Mary-Beth?"

"It was just a… Look, nothing, it's obviously her first time at Sweet and Meyer's, Jacob. Relax! She was blown away by our decorum!" Mary-Beth replied happily.

I blinked, "That was the… warm, fuzzy… feeling… wow…"

"Would you take the Joy and Peace Charm off that door immediately! It hurts business!" The man shouted, entering fully into the store.

"And how is that?" she replied airily, brushing him off. "Anyway, we have a customer. Let's not scare her off!"

"Erm, actually, I was looking for something specific… Oh! But you have a copy of Belinda and the Barrier! I have only heard of this novel in textbooks! A romance novel that breaks our preconceived perceptions of love, life, death, eternity and science!" I couldn't believe I was squealing over this. That charm must have been powerful.

"Yes, it is quite the enjoyable read…" the witch came up to me, pulling it from the bookshelf. "I am afraid it is rather costly…. Well, for a book anyway. 100 Galleons, although if you really want it I can set up a payment plan for you."

"Oh," I sighed, as she handed the old leather-bound copy to me. I caressed the cover, the engraved title and author….

"But, you were saying you came in here for something specific?" she chimed.

"Right, I need a… I bet reading this is better than sex!" I shouted. Then proceeded to blush a bright, cherry red.

"Uhm, maybe that charm is a bit too slow on the decline…" the beautiful witch said, grabbing her wand and whispering a few words. I felt normal again, and more of just in awe of the rare book.

"Right, first I want this book with that payment plan. Then, I have a need for a Pensieve. Straight away," I said professionally.

"We might have one in the backroom. Those are really, really hard to find. One that is certified and not fault, after all, is worth a lot," she mumbled. "Jacob! Can you look to see if we have a Pensieve?"

As they waited, I hummed softly, looking about at the contraptions around the room. It was a very open, spacey feeling store. Hard to achieve, especially when you are based out of a cottage, if I do say so myself.

"You've established quite a lovely shop, here," I said quietly.

"You like it?" the witch said, twirling around so her dress spun up to her knees, surrounding her in a sea of deep blue. "Oh, by the way, I am Mary-Beth Sweet. Well, it's Sweetmouztervorwitchken. But, for the sake of our shop, I have shortened it to just Sweet."

"I am Hermione Granger," I replied, smiling at her enthusiasm. In minutes, the man named Jacob came out of the back room holding a sight to behold. It was a Pensieve, made from light blue glass with silver legs. A tiny little pool for my memories.

"This baby will cost you 250 Galleons," the impressive man said, "And you need to say this spell," he thrust a parchment into my hands, "while pouring a batch of Veritaserum with the oil of a flower unique to you… into the Pensieve."

"Of course," I replied. I had learned all about this when we studied Veritaserum back at Hogwarts. A little extra reading hadn't hurt me, and it actually came in handy now. "Mine would be a Chianti Lily."

The two storekeepers stopped and looked at me when I said it, with curious expressions on their faces. "Well, then Miss Granger, I can ring you up. It will cost you two hundred and fifty… plus ten or twenty, depending on how you want to pay for that book," Mary-Beth said.

"I'll pay two-sixty then," I mumbled, fetching my purse and opening it. Thank goodness for the endless purse and shrinking charms! I handed Mary-Beth the money and grabbed the book to shove it in my purse, as I swung it around my shoulder. The Pensieve, I would hold with my own hands until I got it safely home.


AN: Another moderately long chapter. If you read it, please review. I want feedback (it encourages me) : )