Chapter Twelve
"Are you feeling any better today, Zach?" Lelia paused, expecting an answer. "Zach?" she asked again. Exasperated, she tried again. "Earth to Zachary Harrison."
"Hmm?" Harry said dumbly. He still wasn't used to answering to the name Zach. "What was that?"
Lelia patted his arm, a concerned look on her face. "I asked how you were feeling."
"I'm fine," he answered shortly.
"Are you sure? I mean, it's just that … "
"You really haven't been quite the same since you left," Lex added when Lelia struggled for the right words.
"It's nothing," he assured. "Really."
But he was lying. Ever since his trip to Azkaban three days prior, he could not get the thought of Sirius off his mind. Sirius, rotting away in the tiny tomb. Sirius, who was innocent and should be free. Sirius, who was going to finally escape his bonds only to have to live a half-life on the run.
Sirius, who was going to die. Another death that would be Harry's fault.
It was more than Harry could bear.
"Were you that close to your grandmother?" Lelia asked cautiously.
Harry's mind flashed to memories of Sirius: seeing him for the first time in the Shrieking Shack, knowing that he was living in a cage and eating rats just to be near the godson he loved, singing Christmas carols loudly and badly this past holiday. And he thought of all that he never knew, what he never had a chance to know.
"Not that well," he replied, swallowing the bile rising in his throat. "But she… she was still my grandmother, you know?"
His friends nodded sympathetically, but they didn't know.
They had no idea.
The next morning, Harry pushed his scrambled eggs around the plate with a fork. He didn't want to eat. What gave him the right to eat when Sirius was starving himself to bones? Nothing did.
The door of the Great Hall banged open, shaking him from his morbid thoughts. Harry glanced over quickly, whipping his head back around for another look.
A tall, heavyset woman stormed into the room, managing to look intimidating and kindly all at once. She had deep brown hair that was pulled onto the top of her head and away from her face, revealing the many wrinkles set into her skin throughout, proclaiming her many years alive. Her eyes were a dark blue and they shone with an authoritative glow.
"Look, Minister Bagnold is back!" Lelia whispered.
"That's your Minister of Magic?" Becker asked excitedly. "Ooooh, I've read so much about her! She's supposed to be one of the greatest ministers Britain has ever had!"
Harry surveyed this woman with a new respect in his eyes. Now this was a person that he could believe would be able to lead their country through a war. Unlike that bumbling fool Fudge who was in charge now.
And speak of the devil.
Cornelius Fudge, future Minister of Magic and all-around-idiot strolled into the room behind her. He surveyed the assembly with arrogance only one who had nothing to boast about could generate. Crouch followed shortly after him, only barely managing to disguise the disfavor in his eyes when he looked at Fudge.
'This is probably going to be the first and only time I want to take sides with Crouch' Harry thought.
Minister Bagnold stopped next to the Head Table and leaned in close to say something to Dumbledore. Although the Professor stayed calm and collected, McGonagall, who was seated at his side, paled. She had obviously heard the whispered message and it was not good news.
Dumbledore slowly stood from his seat, and escorted the Minister and her entourage from the room, presumably to discuss whatever new development had occurred.
McGonagall cleared her throat. "Tonight's festivities for the Convention have been postponed until further notice," she announced and was met with groans from the students. This meant a full day of classes for them. "Would you all please head to your first lessons of the day? Thank you."
"I wonder what could be so important that it would cancel tonight's events," Lex wondered aloud. "They have been planning this celebration for months."
"I'll bet anything it has to do with those attacks that have been occurring," said Lelia, and she shivered. "I hope they figured out who is doing them soon. It's almost like…" She trailed off.
Lex put his hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry. He is gone and there is no way He is coming back."
'That is where you are wrong,' Harry thought sorrowfully. 'I wish that you weren't, but you are wrong. He is back.' He looked towards the memorial on the wall. 'And I'm the only one who can do anything about it.'
Severus Snape kept his eyes fixed on the Slytherin Table all through breakfast. There was something bothering Harrison. He watched as the boy stared off into space, a look of sorrow permanently etched into his face.
That is, until the Minister entered.
Severus had been too far down the table to hear what had happened, but from the look on his co-worker's face, he knew that it could not have been good. Harrison's face changed as he observed this scene. And it hit Snape like a Stunning Charm.
Harrison knew. Severus didn't know how or why, but Harrison knew what had happened, he knew something that the rest of them did not.
The look in the child's face changed into something akin to determination as he headed off for his first class.
Potions.
Severus had to figure out a way to reveal what Harrison knew. He wasn't a Slytherin for nothing, so it should not be too hard for him. However, there was something different about this student. Something that Severus could not put his finger on.
This would be a challenge. But it would be a challenge he had to take.
After all, Severus didn't like not knowing what was going on in his own House.
"I need someone to take this note up to Professor Dumbledore's office," Severus announced to the class. Harry's hand immediately snapped up, just like he had known it would. "Alright, Harrison. Do you know where it is?"
"Yes, sir," Harrison intoned.
Severus briefly saw Miss Williams mouth, "You really want to get out of class," before Harrison stood up and walked to the Professor's desk. Severus handed him the parchment that was highly warded against peering eyes and waved him out of the classroom.
"Password is 'Sugar Quills'," he called after him.
He smirked to himself, scaring several Gryffindors seated at the front of the class. That was almost too easy.
'Honestly, how daft does he think I am?' Harry thought snidely to himself as he followed to familiar path up to the Headmaster's office. He knew the Potion's Professor was up to something. He wasn't sure what it was yet, but Snape was up to something. That was all that mattered, really. He knew, and as such, was prepared.
Slytherins always had second motives up their sleeves.
Reaching the gargoyle, Harry muttered the password and stepped onto the rotating stone staircase. As he reached the door, muffled voice could be heard through the wood. Harry stopped and listened.
"This is getting outrageous!" Crouch yelled. "We have to put a stop to these attacks!"
"I agree with your enthusiasm for protecting the people, Bartimus," said Dumbledore smoothly. "But your tactics are a little overzealous."
"Putting everyone we even suspect of the Dark Arts away will not solve anything," Minister Bagnold agreed. "We would have no way of knowing if these people are innocent."
"Anyone who even has the slightest chance of practicing the Dark Arts is guilty," said Crouch firmly.
"I agree," said Fudge pompously. "Anyone Dark Arts Practitioner should be labeled a traitor and condemned to Azkaban."
Harry clenched his fists tightly, his nails almost cutting into the skin of his palms.
"I don't think everyone agrees with that, Fudge," said a very familiar voice and if Harry hadn't been so furious he would have panicked.
"What do you mean?" asked Fudge, confused.
"Well, there is a young man waiting just outside this office door who doesn't seem to share your views."
The door swung open and three incredulous faces looked down at Harry. He calmly strode into the room and dropped the note on Dumbledore's desk.
"Professor Snape wanted me to deliver that to you," he stated bluntly and turned back to the other occupants of the room. A much younger, but still as scarred as usual Moody sat in an armchair near the fireplace.
"You seemed quite angry by what young Fudge here was saying," Moody said conversationally, cutting right to the point. "Any particular reason?"
"I just don't think it is right for you to send an innocent man into a place like Azkaban," Harry answered stiffly, resisting the urge to punch Fudge in the face.
"As I said, if he is casting Dark spells, then he is not innocent."
"Not all Dark spells are used to harm people," he shot back.
Fudge looked pointedly at Harry's robes, which proudly displayed the crest of Slytherin. "It doesn't surprise me that you would say that."
Harry saw red. "Just because I am in Slytherin doesn't mean I am evil. I know plenty of Slytherins who work on the side of Light and plenty of Gryffindors that wouldn't hesitate to slit your throat when your back is turned."
Fudge opened his mouth to angrily reply, but Dumbledore cut him off. "That is enough. Mr. Harrison, would you please return to class. We have a meeting to attend to."
"I think I had better accompany our young friend here back to class before he starts preaching to his fellow students about the beauty of the Unforgivables," Moody sneered and lead Harry out of the office by his arm.
The pair walked in silence down the hall, Harry sadistically contemplating revenge on Fudge, most involving spells that wouldn't prove the Dark Arts aren't all for hurting others. Suddenly, Moody grabbed his robe sleeve and pulled him into a nearby classroom.
"Alright," he said, pushing Harry against the wall. Hard. "No bullshit. Who the hell are you and what are you doing here?"
"What?" Harry gasped, wincing against the pain in his back.
"There is something that isn't right about you, Harrison. Now tell me what the fuck it is."
Harry let a slow smirk spread across his face, the same look he knew irritated the man to no end. "I could never get much past you, Mad-Eye."
Moody snarled. "I don't have the patience for mind games."
"It's a long story."
"I've got time. Talk."
And so he did.