13. Pardons and Ministerial Mistakes
The tour wasn't too bad, but by the end with the speeches and toasts, Harry was tired off people staring and whispering and pointing and glaring at him, but none of the people here came closer or said a single threat. He couldn't relax, but at least he wasn't attacked, either verbally or physically.
Five hours later they were back in the Atrium by the marvellous tree. Some people, mostly reporters, were still around, but the throng of people were smaller now than before. Maybe the guards believed that the crazies had all done their worst or gone home. Maybe they felt that they had better control of the smaller crowd. No matter the reason, when the attack occurred, no one was as prepared as they should have been.
"Traitor!" The yell sounded through the Atrium.
"Filth!"
"You were our only hope, you traitor!"
Here we go, then. Harry picked out the faces that the voices belonged to, but the dangerous ones knew not to reveal themselves, and he only felt Astoria's arms around him before they both got flung into the tree trunk with a blast.
Harry blinked up at Astoria for a few moments, noticing the ringing in his ears and the blood seeping down from Astoria's temple. She had used her arms and hands to protect his head while landing, and used her body as a shield against the curse. The blue flash from her cloak when the curse hit and threw them into the tree, made Harry certain that she had shielding wards on her cloak, at least, but obviously not any absorption wards, or she would have remained standing.
Astoria looked dazedly at him and blinked slowly with pale, almost white eyes with vertical pupils. Her glamour had been pulled off her.
"Hi there, how do you feel?" Harry made his voice low and mellow. The blood from her temple didn't have to mean a serious injury, but her confusion and sluggishness did.
"My arm … it really hurts," she whispered and looked at her arm like she didn't know what it was.
"It saved my stone hard head, so I can see how that would hurt. Do you have your wand? No, no, lie still. Let me take it from you and then we will move you when I'm able to heal you as we go."
Harry did as he said he would, even though the first thing he did with her wand was to erect a shield between them and the fighting that was going on in the Atrium. About a week ago, he would already have been up, casting spells and curses, but right now he thought he had more people on his side then he had had in years. It was safe enough to concentrate on a fallen comrade; someone who might very well have saved his life, or at least spared him a lot of pain. As if to reinforce his belief; the very moment he looked up, the elevators opened and a wave of Auror's in red and black swarmed the Atrium. Susan at their head. Then Harry needed to pay attention to Astoria.
Her wand didn't fight him, because Astoria had permitted the loan. First, he healed the cuts on her head, side and arm, to stop her from suffering blood loss. After that Harry moved her around and carefully healed what he safely could of her broken shoulder and the bones in her arm. It would need a proper Healer soon, but what he did would lessen the pain and make sure that she could move cautiously until she saw a Healer. The stretched tendons in both arms he could heal completely, and he could both set and secure her fractured ribs, even though a Healer should check those too.
When the ribs were taken care of as much as he could, the diagnosis charm didn't ping with any more injuries. Except the serious concussion, of course, and Harry didn't have anything at all for that.
"Do you want me to put your glamour back on? Astoria?" He had to put a hand under her chin to make her look at him, and she kept blinking without being able to focus.
"Glamour? Yes." She touched her face with a hand that had the gold and black snakeskin pattern visible. "That would be best, I think."
Harry looked at her for a moment, trying to make the glamour decent enough to suit her, and said the charm, before giving her back her wand.
He missed his own wand, so much.
"It should hold for a while. What do you think, should we ask Snape and see if he has a potion to help against concussions? And then Draco should get you to a Healer, I think."
"Ahh, yes, yes, I believe that … that … Oh, the world is dancing … spinning."
"Don't look towards the people. Look at the tree or at me. The fight is almost over. I think they finally managed to piss Voldemort off."
"That's not good. I'm supposed to make sure that doesn't happen."
"They had it coming, I think."
"That's not very nice. You are supposed to be nice," she whined.
Harry snorted. "I recognized the curse you saved me from. I don't feel very nice right now."
"Well …"
She let him painstakingly help her to her feet and removed the shield when he told her too, and then they went towards Voldemort, as he stood in the middle of the floor with Snape and the rest of his guards. Draco had been near the tree with them and had been caught up in the fighting there, while Bandini slowly got to his feet, bleeding from several cuts and with one eye shut.
"Bones, I do believe I see the first post on your agenda as the new head of DLME," Harry told her when they got close enough to talk.
Voldemort stood a few metres behind Bones, unharmed and completely unfazed. It didn't seem like he had broken a sweat or been hit with any curse, or as much as a drop of blood from any of his enemies. Harry assumed the half a dozen unconscious people hanging upside down in the air, was Voldemort's doing. Right now, Voldemort was staring at Harry with a multitude of emotions spilling across his face. Harry was too wound up and distracted to even contemplate what kind of emotions he saw there, but there were a lot of them.
"Potter, good, they didn't get you. I don't know, could it possibly be the small security problem I just now noticed?" Susan shoved hair out of her face and scowled at the six people in the air. Harry suspected there had been more of them. Susans' previously warm eyes were hard and dangerous now.
"Ding, ding; got it on one! Although, small might not be the right word, you know. I don't think any of these were the ones that cast the curse on me and Astoria, and I saw at least three more in the mob."
"Tsk, mob is such a harsh word, Potter. I didn't see any pitchforks at all. Sadly. I have always wanted to see that."
"I didn't either, but I did hear the shouts of traitor, filth and the like. Almost seems like they had some kind of problem with me."
"People always have a problem with you, Potter. I'm tolerably certain it's the way you run your mouth. It's more than you are worth, really." Susan looked up at the prisoners. "So much for peace, I guess. I didn't even get out of my probation, for Merlin's sake!"
"Aww, don't leave us just yet, Bones. I'm sure we can do better. Maybe we can get some pitchforks next time."
"Shove it, Potter."
Harry snorted and turned towards Snape. "Mr. Snape, did you by any chance bring a potion for concussions? Astoria has got a bad one. She needs a proper Healer too, but that concussion is more worrisome than broken bones."
"I did." Snape took a box out of a pocket, made it larger with a tap of his wand, opened it and gave a potion bottle to Astoria, who stood staring at it.
"You are supposed to drink it, you know," Harry said.
Astoria looked at him, frowned and then opened the bottle and drank.
"And maybe a Calming Draught, too? Her adrenaline must run rampant after something like that." Harry looked at Snape again and got a new bottle that Astoria also drank.
"One for you, too." Snape tried to give Harry another bottle of the Calming Draught.
Harry shook his head.
"Mr. Potter, I might not be a Healer, but no one talks like you do now if they are completely steady."
"Oh, I'm not steady at all. I'm in shock and high on adrenaline. It was the almost getting gutted by a curse out of bloody nowhere and then slamming into a tree, thing, I believe."
"That, I would say, is an excellent reason to calm down," Snape said and tried to give Harry the bottle again.
"Normally, I would agree, but I'm not sure what's under that adrenaline right now. I have a suspicion it's rage, and if the adrenaline goes down and the shock wears off, then the rage is left. I'm very easy to anger, apparently. I think I was mellow once." Harry stood staring into the air for a moment. "Anyways … rage, lots of it. Letting it to the surface would be very bad indeed, as my husband would say."
"I would say that, would I?" Voldemort said and Harry looked at him and was grateful for his glamour. Voldemort now looked angry enough to have his original appearance under the glamour he used, and Harry didn't think that would be good, either.
"You do talk like that," Harry pointed out.
"Are you aware that you have a branch almost through your lower leg?"
Harry looked down. There was a branch jutting out of his left leg, not a big one, but still. "No, no, I did not know that. Thanks for pointing it out. Astoria, be a dear and lend me your wand again, please?"
"Harry, what are you …" She held out her wand hesitantly.
"No, don't …!" Susan almost screeched, but it was too late.
Harry ripped out the branch from his leg and healed the open wound and then the muscle and tendons that also had been injured.
"You bloody idiot!" Susan shouted. "You are not supposed to do that!"
Harry handed the wand back to Astoria.
"I concur," Voldemort said, silkily.
"You could have seriously harmed yourself!" Susan snapped.
"Where is your wand, Harry?" Astoria asked in a low voice.
"It's not hard to get to St. Mungo's from here, you know, Potter," Draco said. "I'm taking Astoria now, anyways, you could easily have joined us."
Harry simply stood there and waited until everyone shut up.
"Are we done here for today?" He looked at Voldemort.
He noticed that some casual onlookers and reporters had been trickling back into the Atrium, and he didn't trust any of them to stay away and not make more trouble.
Voldemort looked from Harry to his six captives. "Yes, if Mrs. Bones would be so good as to take these miscreants and lock them away, awaiting trial …" He flicked his wand and the six unconscious people fell hard to the floor.
"Of course, sir." Susan gave a small bow. "And I give you my word that my successor will take control of a tidier Department with better regulations than I did. They should be able to avoid a security disaster like this one today. I have no excuse."
"I believe you do," Voldemort said, "as I believe half the security detail was directly from my own forces, without any Auror training and not really yours to command. We will learn from this incident and hopefully realise that better cooperation is necessary for future success, and for the protection of our society."
"Yes, sir. Thank you." Susan nodded deeply to him, almost a bow again, gave Harry a smile and ordered some of the Auror's to take the prisoners to the cells. She started to turn away, then stopped and removed two parchment scrolls from her robe pocket and held them out to Harry. Voldemort tapped them with his wand, took them and gave them to Harry, who looked at Susan.
"The first official pardons, for you and Miss Granger," she gave a tired smile. "Aren't you the lucky ones? My aunt, I mean, Madame Bones, was just finished with them when the alarm went off …"
"Thanks." Harry nodded at her, and she turned towards the elevators. He opened the scroll with his name on it and frowned down while listening to Draco insisting that he and Astoria stay in the Atrium until the rest of the party had gotten back to the Manor, before leaving for St. Mungo's. Harry's stomach sank when he read the court date Madame Bones had given him for his trial. The charges were everything from theft and using Dark Arts in fights to conspiring with the enemy and murder.
It wasn't a pardon at all. Madam Bones had decided that it would be best for her and the Wizarding World to drag Harry through a trial, and most likely lock him up. Probably permanently.
Harry swore and ripped open Hermione's supposed pardon too. She had been condemned for everything Harry had been charged with, without trial, based solely on eyewitnesses and hearsay. She had gotten a life sentence.
It was so, so hard to breathe. The air in his lungs burned. His head swam. The words in front of him shook. He thought he possibly could be shouting, swearing, raging.
Strong, cool fingers caught his hand, and another hand took the papers away from him. He gulped and felt power snap inside him, snap and snarl and pull and roar and … leave him in waves. Waves and waves of power without a proper outlet, without purpose. Wild and dangerous.
He looked around in a haze. Expecting to see Fiendfyre raging or to see black and golden ripples of power wash against people and drown them in agony. Or darkness dancing against the walls, ready to grab and stab and swamp people in fear and pain and exhaustion and death.
"Harry." A gentle voice, pure, soothing silk. A finger against his jaw, cool and controlled, slowly turning his head to the side and slightly upwards until he met the red gaze waiting for him. Anchoring him. It was calm. In control. Not afraid or in agony or enraged. The gaze and the light touch were an anchor in the storm that howled inside him.
Calm. Safe. In control.
Safe.
Harry was safe. He would be kept safe. That was what that connection silently promised him.
The finger against his jaw vanished and he whimpered at the loss. Tears brimmed in his eyes. He sobbed once and felt the cool hand tightened slightly around his, reminding him it was there. With a gasp and a desperation he didn't want to think about, he used his free hand to grab Voldemort's wrist. Feeling the cool, smooth skin beneath his hand, he sobbed again and slightly relaxed. Still staring transfixed into the calm and anchoring gaze.
"Harry, you are not hurting anyone." Voldemort's voice was still pure silk and it made Harry shiver, unable to hide it, unable to want to hide it. "I promised I would not let you do so."
Harry swallowed, wanting to believe, needing to believe, and at the same time unable to look away, to confirm what Voldemort said.
"But the magic, my magic, it … runs wild." His voice was hoarse, wet with tears and fear and fury. So much fury, burning, biting, raging fury.
"I am taking it from you, before it can manifest into anything. My core is able to hold a bit more, but do calm down, Harry. I promised you a pardon, and I keep my promises. Calm down, Harry, calm down now." He was insistent, but not hurried, not desperate, not in pain. Serene and in control.
The silky voice made Harry both sob and want to bask in it, at the same time. Slowly, tentatively, Harry rested his forehead against Voldemort's shoulder, his hand still being held and his other hand holding Voldemort's wrist. He tried to do as he had been told; to calm down.
The smooth voice sounded right next to him when Voldemort spoke to people around them, and at the same time he could hear the words vibrate in Voldemort's chest. The hand holding his, gripped securely, but carefully, not to constrain or punish, but to reassure. To anchor and to keep safe. Harry had never been this close to Voldemort, and wanting to stay there, before. He couldn't remember ever having noticed his scent in the past. A strange mixture of wild, green places and dark and chill desert nights. It wasn't unpleasant, not at all.
Harry focused on Voldemort, on his voice and grip and scent, and he tried to calm down. He needed to calm down and stop the rush of magic. Because it wasn't possible that Voldemort could take all the magic from Harry's core, unless his own had been close to empty beforehand. And Harry very much did not want to find out what would happen if he burned Voldemort with his magic, before said magic got to spill out in the middle of the Ministry of Magic, and Muggle London.
"That is better. Much better, Harry."
Harry still couldn't even try to hide the shivers he got from the silken voice. And he couldn't try to guess at what Voldemort made of his reactions.
"Mrs. Bones will have a word with Madam Bones and the pardons for you and Miss Granger will be arranged before the day is out. Mrs. Bones was quite put out, she seemed to want to believe there had been a mistake. I think so too, although, we probably think of two different mistakes," he added pensively.
Harry didn't know what to say or do, but when that gentle finger touched his jaw and tipped his head back to meet those red eyes again, something leaped in his chest.
Somewhere inside him, he knew that he should fight this. Somehow. Fight the touch. Fight the safety. Fight the calm and the help and the delicious shivers. But that was buried deep, deep inside him. He was simply grateful that he hadn't hurt or killed anyone, and if Voldemort managed that extraordinary feat in a manner that made Harry confused and dazed, then that was still better than the alternative. The power Harry could have, would have, unleashed would have been extremely destructive.
The backs of two fingers gently stroked his cheek and Harry could have cried with the tenderness, the thoughtfulness, of it. In fact, his eyes hadn't been dry for some time, but it didn't seem to bother Voldemort.
"I believe it would be best to go home now," Voldemort said.
"Yes, please," Harry whispered.
A/N:
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Thank you to Ladylillalove for beta reading!