A/N (30.11.2020): What? I'm back? Such a shock, I know. It's been a long time, and I am sure my story has been long forgotten by the vast majority of you.
To those of you who are willing to reread this story in order to remember where we are in Gawain's tale: I am truly touched by your dedication and loyalty. I have recently made some minor edits to the original posts, including combining two of my shorter chapters and adding a few small segments. But there have been no major plot changes.
To those of you who find that it has been too inexcusably long since my last update and now decide to stop reading: Thanks for staying with me to this point, and I wish you well.
To my new readers who are only now joining us: Welcome and enjoy the ride.
Chapter 4: Convincing Lies
The flutter of wings and alarmed chirping of birds met Gawain's ears as his feet made contact with the earth again. Startled by the crack as five wizards Apparated before them simultaneously, the birds were crying their indignity as they deserted their perches by the Hogwarts front gate.
Years of training had Gawain arriving with wand in hand. He quickly scanned his surroundings for potential threats. When none were immediately evident, Gawain looked around to ensure all his companions had arrived safely. Then, satisfied, he finally took a moment to really take in his surroundings.
Immediately it was clear that something terrible had happened here. The Hogwarts gate still attempted to stand valiantly, but the wrought iron looked as though it had been melted and twisted leaving a gap large enough for a giant to walk through comfortably. The wall surrounding the grounds was crumbling, and one of the winged boars which had once flanked the gate had toppled and shattered into rubble that was now scattered across the road. Scorch marks marred the earth, and a pair of trees was uprooted just ahead. The whole sight made Gawain shiver.
"This may not be exactly the most ideal time to ask this question… especially in the presence of the Head of the Auror Office. But it doesn't count as Appartating without a license if you do it in the company of the Minister of Magic, right?" Potter's voice was calm and cheery. It was at odds with the eerie scene before them.
Four pairs of eyes turned slowly to look at Potter with eyebrows raised. "I've been kinda busy since I turned seventeen," said Potter with a shrug, and he started walking up the road in the direction of the castle. The others had no choice but to follow. Gawain heard Ben let out a small snort of laughter as he did so.
"I suppose you should probably take that test…" Kingsley said, distractedly, matching his stride with Potter's. His eyes were scanning the treeline cautiously.
"Suppose. Seems a little silly after a whole year on the run Apparating all over Britain."
It was the first mention Gawain had heard him willingly make regarding what he had been up to over the past year. He wanted to ask more, but he knew it would be intrusive. Potter didn't know him at all, after all. So he was grateful when Kingsely asked it instead.
"Where were you hiding out all that time?"
"Everywhere. Nowhere. Just kept moving. We had a tent. We'd set up in any isolated place we could find and put up wards and protective enchantments. Never stayed in one place more than a few days."
"Sounds exhausting," Kingsley commented.
The group was walking briskly up the path. Gawain thought they really could have used one of those thestral-drawn carriages right about now. The boughs of the forest were reaching over so densely as to almost completely block out the bright sunshine. Just as Gawain was thinking that he really hadn't remembered the walk being this long, they rounded a bend and the trees opened up to reveal the sloping lawns and the lake with the many turrets and towers of Hogwarts Castle rising above it.
Potter paused on the path. He stared up at the castle, his hands in his pockets. "It's been a long year, yes."
Gawain stared too. He remembered the first time he had ever stood at this spot. He remembered the awe he had felt looking up at the castle. He remembered climbing into the fleet of boats with the other first year students and gazing transfixed at Hogwarts Castle shimmering in the starlight, reflecting in the dark water. He remembered that feeling of magic.
The sight now could not be further from magic. The sight now was nothing short of tragic.
Hogwarts lay in ruins. Whole towers were toppled. One side of the castle main building had been blown away. Rubble and boulders riddled the lawns. The five wizards just stood and stared out at the castle and grounds for a moment. No one spoke. What was there to say?
Potter broke the silence after a moment. "We should go this way. The pathway up that direction is blocked." And he led them on. Even his chipper attitude from before seemed dampened. Kingsley kept up with Potter and Ben was close to the Minister's shoulder. Bones trudged behind them and Gawain brought up the rear.
They tramped across the lawns, hugging the lakeshore before heading up the sloping lawns toward the front doors of the castle. Along the way, they skirted around boulders, craters, and at one point, the body of an impossibly huge spider lying on its back with its massive hairy legs curled around itself.
Potter was notably quiet the rest of the walk. The closer they got, the more Gawain saw a change in Potter's body language. It was subtle, but his years of introverted study of humans picked it up. The boy's shoulders were stiffening more with every step. His left hand was fisted and his right, while still in his pocket, Gawain suspected was curled around a wand. His gait slowed, so gradually it was almost imperceptible, each step a little more hesitant than the one before until it was like he was walking through jelly. Still he said nothing, and Gawain could not quite see his face from his position, but the curve of his jaw was tense and his breathing seemed a little deeper, a little more deliberate. Something had changed. Gradually, Kingsley, Ben, and Bones had pulled out a little further ahead, but Gawain slowed to match Potter and maintain his position at the rear of the party.
They reached the stone stairs up to the main door. One whole side of the staircase had been crumbled into ruins and still more debris that had fallen from above littered what remained, but someone had evidently cleared a path through for people to be able to get in and out of the castle. The group began the climb up to the main doors. But Potter, meanwhile, put one foot on the bottom stair, then froze abruptly, staring blankly at the stone under his feet. Had Gawain not been studying him so closely, he thought he might have walked right into the lad. As it was, he managed to veer around him and paused, turning back to wait for him from his position three steps up.
Potter stood there frozen for merely a second, then he removed his foot from the stair and turned away to face the way they had come. The others in the company had not noticed the loss of the fifth in their party and were continuing their climb of the stairs. Gawain cleared his throat deliberately to catch their attention. Kingsley looked at Gawain questioningly, and he nodded in Potter's direction. Kingsley, confused, followed his gaze and stopped, halfway up the stairs.
The four of them stood from their positions on the steps, looking down at Potter below. His back was to them, but Gawain could see he had his left fist pressed to his mouth, and from the moment of his shoulders, he could see him taking in deep shuddering breaths.
"Harry?" said Kingsley, gently. There was no response. "Are you alright?"
Potter half turned back toward them in response, then seemed to think better of it. He took two steps back the way they had come, then stopped again. Turning abruptly, we went back to the base of the stairs, his face looking pained, only to groan in frustrated indecision and turn back yet again just as he reached the base of the stairs again. He stood for a moment, bouncing on the balls of his feet and shook out his arms and cracked his neck almost as though he were preparing himself for some great physical exertion.
Kingsley moved down the stairs a few steps, a concerned look on his face. But before he could reach Potter, Gawain heard the boy take in a deep shaky breath, let it out audibly, and then he turned and marched resolutely up the stairs. He pushed between Kingsley and Gawain, and Gawain heard him mutter, "Let's just get this over with." Gawain wasn't sure if he was speaking to them or to himself. And then the boy was taking the stairs two at a time as he climbed quickly and determinedly up into the Entrance Hall. The whole episode had taken maybe a minute. The others scrambled to keep up with his quick pace, exchanging looks of confusion. Ben opened his mouth to ask something, but closed it at a stern glance and shake of the head from Gawain.
At the doors into the Great Hall, Potter paused for the barest of seconds. He closed his eyes, took in another deep calming breath, and pushed the doors open wide.
Eyes turned in the direction of the doors as they were thrown open. Lots of eyes. Students, teachers, villagers from Hogsmeade, family members of the children. Everyone turned.
Potter strode purposefully down the aisle toward the head of the Hall where Gawain could see McGonagall and the Heads of Houses and a few others who had looked up from their conference together. Gawain made to follow, but Kingsley put a hand to his chest. He was watching Potter, a crease between his brows. "Let him go ahead of us a bit." Gawain suspected he was remembering Potter's jab the night before about how marching onto the battlefield with the Chosen One would impact Kingsley's public image.
So instead, Gawain hung back with the others and watched Potter walking down the Great Hall. Instantly the air was thick with whispers and hails.
"It's Potter! He's back!"
"Hiya, Harry!"
"Harry Potter!"
"Hey, Harry! Welcome back!"
Potter walked down the aisle, nodding to some, raising his hand in salutation to others. But he kept moving confidently in the direction of the Heads of Houses. Whatever moment of uncertainty or anxiety he may have felt outside, apparently gone.
Potter sufficiently ahead, Kingsley made to follow and the others trailed after. Gawain took in the faces of the people throughout the Hall who were looking at them curiously. A rag-tag collection of school children, their parents, Hogsmeaders, and Hogwarts staff. Most sported cuts and bruises, some bandages, some clearly more serious injuries. The House tables had been cleared away, but benches were pushed to the sides of the hall where some sat, and others seemed to just be camped out on the floor. They watched the group of Ministry officials march across the room with haunted eyes.
The Ministry had dispatched a team to remove the dead and transport the most injured to Saint Mungo's shortly after the Battle. But still, everywhere Gawain looked there was evidence of death and suffering. Blood smeared the floor and stretchers leaned abandoned against the wall.
Abruptly, it occurred to Gawain that Mary likely had her hands full at work too. The Spell Damage ward at Saint Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries was likely to be filled to the brim at present. He wasn't sure why this hadn't occurred to him. Or why she had not mentioned it.
The group reached the end of the Hall and climbed the two steps to the raised area where the Heads of Houses were congregated. Potter was exchanging greetings with them. As Gawain and the others approached, Potter's hand was in McGonagall's and her other hand rested on his shoulder. Gawain thought he saw a strange combination of worry and relief on the older woman's face as she looked at the boy, but Gawain could not make out the words they exchanged.
Professor McGonagall turned to the group of Ministry officials as they approached and the two broke apart. "Minister," she greeted Kingsley formally with something between a nod and a shallow bow. "Welcome back." Her face was grave, but in retrospect, Gawain thought she always rather looked that way, so perhaps it meant nothing.
"Hello, Minerva," greeted Kingsley warmly, holding out his hand to shake hers.
"Congratulations on your appointment. They couldn't have chosen anyone better."
Kingsley smiled softly. "Thank you." He glanced around the Hall. "How are things faring here? We came to see where you needed help."
Minerva McGonagall sighed. She glanced around at her fellow professors. "We have been managing. There is still a great deal to do. Professor Flitwick and I have managed to patch together some protective wards, but they're nothing like as secure as they used to be. And while the most injured have been transported to Saint Mungo's, the Hospital Wing is still full to the brim with the less critical patients. I'm sure Poppy would appreciate some additional hands there."
With these words, she looked toward a kindly looking middle-aged witch standing beside her. Gawain supposed this must be Poppy Pomfrey. He had never met her as she had become the matron of Hogwarts a few years after he had left school. But Gawain had heard much of her from Mary. She had been something of a mentor to Mary in school and, if Gawain recalled correctly, he believed she had even written Mary a letter of recommendation when Mary had been applying to Healing Academy.
"There are so many injured. They're holding together admirably. But..." Gawain recognised the disheartened look in each of the professors' eyes too well. "Morale has been an issue," Professor McGonagall added. "Everyone is just so drained… Potter, I hate to ask it of you, but…" she trailed off looking at him, but it seemed no further request was necessary.
"I'm on it," said Potter simply. And he strolled away. He skipped down the two small steps from the raised platform, and made his way toward a group of six or seven school children nearby.
The whole group of adults watched him go, and there was silence for a moment as Potter strode across the Hall. The group he approached had been sitting quietly, some with their chins in their hands, some leaning slumped against the wall. But the minute they saw Potter approaching, they jumped to their feet and smiles were on each and every face.
"Where did you find him?" McGonagall asked softly of Kingsley, breaking the silence as they all watched Potter embrace a round-faced boy in Gryffindor robes who seemed to be about Potter's age. A tall black boy was slapping Potter on the back and a sandy-haired boy was smiling broadly and jesting about something that made Potter laugh.
"Harry? Why? Was he missing?" asked Kingsley, surprised by the question.
"Yes and no," replied McGonagall. She exchanged looks with some of the other teachers. "He left the castle the evening after the battle. Miss Granger had already headed off to Australia to find her parents, and the Weasley family had gone back to the Burrow." She was still watching Potter with concerned eyes. "We had assumed he had gone with the Weasleys. But Arthur and Percy came to check in and help with the repairs this morning, and they had been under the impression that Potter had been staying here. They said he had checked-in at the Burrow yesterday, so we knew he must be okay. But it doesn't seem he told anyone where he was going…"
"Why would he do that?" Kingsley now looked concerned, also watching Potter, a crease between his brows. Potter was meanwhile laughing and joking with the gaggle of students, not noticing the troubled looks being thrown his way.
Professor Flitwick chimed in in his high-pitched voice. "Miss Lovegood said he just needed some time alone. She said we shouldn't worry. But it's sure been hard not to…"
"Where did you find him?" asked McGonagall again.
"Grimmauld Place."
"Grimmauld Place?" exclaimed McGonagall. "What on earth is he doing there in that horrible house?"
"I suppose it's like Luna said. He needed some time away… I mean, he's been pretty much on his own for quite some time. You have to admit it must be pretty jarring to be surrounded by this many people again so suddenly." He nodded toward the collection of people surrounding Potter, and Gawain noticed the group getting larger as though the boy had some gravitational force pulling people into orbit around him. "And whatever downsides there may be to Grimmauld Place, it is more secure than just about anywhere else. I think he chose it deliberately. He should be safe enough there."
"I don't like it," Madam Pomfrey spoke up for the first time, and there was sadness in her eyes. "It's one thing for him to want some alone time. But it's quite another for him to lie about it. It's not healthy for him to be retreating like this. Not after everything he's been through. Seclusion isn't a good sign. He didn't even give me a chance to examine him after the Battle to be sure he wasn't injured."
"How has he seemed to you?" asked McGonagall, turning to Kingsley.
"Like Harry," Kingsley replied with a shrug and a bemused shake of his head. "He said he wasn't hurt. He's seemed pretty light-hearted. Cracking lots of jokes. He did give me some reason to worry he was putting the blame for those who died in the Battle on his own shoulders—but that's just normal Harry, isn't it..?" Potter let out a laugh in response to something a classmate said, and the sound floated over to where the professors and Ministry members were huddled. "He did seem a bit anxious coming in the castle just now. But… Well… He seems alright now, doesn't he?"
Professor McGonagall exchanged looks again with several of the teachers. Then looked back to Potter. "He does," she said after a pause. "But I think we have all seen Potter tell some very convincing lies in our time." There was silence as this comment sank in, and all eyes were turned to watch Potter merrily chatting with his friends.
Just at this time, Potter seemed to notice that they were all staring at him. He glanced over at them from over the heads of several admirers, did a double-take, and the smile died on his lips as his eyes flitted between the concerned looks of his teachers and Kingsley. A crease appeared between his brows as he took in the worried expressions directed at him. But the students of Hogwarts would not allow this distraction for long, and they regained his attention a mere second later. And abruptly Potter was smiling again. It all happened so quickly, Gawain thought he may have imagined it. Caught in their staring, the professors and Ministry members turned away their gazes hastily.
"You will look out for him, won't you?" asked Professor McGonagall, considering Kingsley thoughtfully. "If he's insisting on staying there on his own..? I know you're busy…"
"Of course. We've been making use of the place for meetings until we can be sure the Ministry is cleared of all the Surveillance Charms the Death Eaters put up. I'm not sure how much longer that will be. But I will be able to check in on him periodically, at least for the time being."
Then, more sternly, Madam Pomfrey added her own caution. "Just you be careful with him, Kingsley Shacklebolt." Kingsley turned to her, frowning in confusion. "Don't think we don't all know what this looks like, you coming back here to Hogwarts bringing Harry Potter along with you."
Kingsley glanced around at the collection of teachers and noted that they were all looking at him with similar stern expressions. He sighed in annoyance. "Contrary to whatever my predecessors as Minister of Magic may have led you all to think, taking advantage of Harry Potter's celebrity was not, in fact, a part of the oath I took when being sworn into office." Kingsley seemed frustrated to have a refrain of the accusations Potter had placed before him just the night before. "I only suggested he join us today because I was worried he would come on his own without anyone watching his back."
"That is as may be," McGonagall acknowledged. "But he likes you. Which means he'll be more willing to go along with you than he ever was with Fudge or Scrimgeour. Don't go taking advantage of it. He's done enough. He deserves some time to rest and heal."
"Has he spoken to you at all?" asked Madam Pomfrey, not giving Kingsley time to compose a retort to McGonagall's comment. "About where he's been this year? What he's been up to?"
"No, not really. I did tell him I'll have to ask eventually. The Wizengamot has been at my throat to schedule a hearing… I've been trying to delay it as long as I can, for his sake. But it's going to have to be soon. There's so much chaos to sort through, and I imagine there's a lot of blanks he'll be able to fill in for us."
"It may be better to get it over with," offered Madam Pomfrey. "It's not the platform I would choose for him, but it may be the only real way to get him talking and facing it all. I'm worried for him. If he continues to isolate himself from his friends…"
They glanced toward Potter again, this time more surreptitiously. He had moved down the Hall a ways and was now shaking hands with a stout blond boy in Hufflepuff robes. He turned and accepted a hug from another Hufflepuff, this time a girl with long strawberry blond hair plaited down her back. Next to him, Gawain heard Edward Bones grumble something under his breath, but he did not catch what. Whatever is he annoyed about?
Professor McGonagall sighed. "Well, you didn't come here just to talk about Potter. I suppose we should be getting to work. Perhaps we can start with touring some of the areas that we will need the most help with repairs."
She nodded to the other teachers and several broke apart clearly on other assignments. Madam Pomfrey muttered something about being needed back in the Hospital Wing. Then McGonagall led the group of Ministry officials along with the other Heads of Houses through the Hall, skirting around Potter's admirers. He had moved further down the Hall, making a point to mingle with every group.
Bones was tight on Gawain's side as they squeezed through a particularly oblivious gaggle of Potter fans. As they headed across the Hall, a hail made Bones pause and look around. "Dad!" It was the fair girl with the long braid that Gawain had noticed earlier. Abruptly, he understood Bones's annoyance at Potter hugging her.
"Hi, sweetheart," Bones said, a little distractedly. He briefly put an arm around her and squeezed, but continued to walk after Kingsley and the others.
"You didn't tell me you were going to be here," the girl said, hurrying to keep up, but looking up at her father's face.
"I'm here to organise a Ministry team for the repairs on the castle. I thought you were headed home today," said Bones.
"I told you! I want to stay. I can be helpful here. There's so much to do to set things right."
"I want you safe at home. Your mother is worried sick."
"I spoke to Mum," the girl interjected. "She told me you were the one who is worried sick. She's fine. She supported me. And anyway. Maxim and Brandon are home with her. And I'm perfectly safe here at Hogwarts!"
They had just reached the doors into the Entrance Hall and Bones skittered to a stop, turning to his daughter and taking her by the shoulders. "I don't want you getting sucked in to any more of this nonsense. For Merlin's sake, don't you even remember what happened to your Auntie Amelia or your Uncle Edgar and his family? Go home, Susan. This is not your fight."
"Dad, I'm helping to rebuild Hogwarts. Exactly what risks do you think that entails?"
Bones started moving toward the marble staircase after Kingsley and the others. "I don't want you anywhere near that Potter boy," he said abruptly
"What? Harry?" the girl said, startled.
"He's a magnet for trouble."
"Is this because I hugged him? Dad, he's in my year! We're friends! He's a good bloke."
"You're better off not getting involved with…"
"Dad! You're being ridiculous." A blush was spreading over her cheeks.
"For once in your life, Susan. Just do as you're told. Go home!"
And with that, he was climbing the stairs, leaving his daughter behind, staring after them incredulously.
Gawain walked along beside Bones as they made their way to the upper levels. Kingsley and McGonagall were deep in conversation ahead of them. Gawain couldn't help but cast a sideways look at Bones. His jaw was hard, clearly fuming internally. Gawain said nothing, but Bones caught the look.
Gawain couldn't really blame the man. Bones had lost a great many people in his family to the Death Eaters. And while Gawain wanted to think he would not be such an over-protective father, the mere thought of Ella getting involved in all this made his stomach churn; he was quite sure he would be just as bad if their positions had been reversed.
"Do you have children, Robards?" Bones asked him after a few moments of silence.
"One. A daughter."
"How old?"
"Just turned seven."
"Same as my youngest boy," Bones acknowledged. "Well, enjoy it while she's young. Once they turn into teenagers, they're impossible."
"Do you think your daughter is going to do as you asked her?" Gawain asked curiously.
"Not a chance."
The morning stretched on and their tour of the castle had only served to disturb Gawain more. Few parts of the castle appeared to have been spared the ravages of battle. Corridors were scattered with rubble, a hole the size of a giant was smashed through the western-facing wall, Gryffindor Tower had almost completely caved in—he suspected this was why it appeared people were camping out in the Great Hall. As they strolled through the castle, they were watched by the subjects of portraits, many of whom were crammed together in canvases that were clearly not their own. Gawain realised they must have had to flee their own frames before they were destroyed. Gawain had engaged Professor Flitwick in conversation about Muggle-Repelling Charms as they walked, taking mental note of what might be their most effective protective strategy.
The midday sun was high in the sky when they stepped out on the ramparts of the eastern side of the castle. A chill breeze ruffled Gawain's hair as he looked about. Five yards down the ramparts, a pile of rubble was blocking the way forward. There Gawain saw two men, their backs to them, coordinating together to lift a huge boulder out of the way with their wands. He could not make out their faces, but they had matching flaming red hair, though the older man's was thinning.
"Keep it steady, Percy," the older man was saying as they eased it down over the side of the wall safely to the ground below.
A large thump rattled the floor beneath their feet when they finally let it fall just a few feet from the ground. Kingsley approached them. "Arthur! Percy! I didn't expect to find you here." The two men turned. Gawain recognised both Arthur and Percy Weasley from the Ministry, but he didn't know either well.
"Kingsley! Good to see you." Kingsley shook hands with both of them in turn.
"How are you doing? I thought you were taking some time away," commented Kingsley, looking at Arthur with sympathetic eyes.
"I did try. But just being home… Hard to turn the old brain off. I'm finding I really need to be doing something. Can't stand being idle right now. Raring to get back to work, to be honest..."
"Well, I didn't want to rush you… But if you think your ready…?" Kingsley glanced toward Bones. "Edgar here and I were just discussing you. Edgar has his hands full with trying to organise some cover-ups with the Muggle community. A lot of questions being raised. And as the Death Eaters dissolved the Muggle-Worthy Excuse Committee... Well, we were rather hoping you might be interested in heading it up and helping to re-establish it. The Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes would be lucky to have you. Of course if you don't feel ready…"
"I'd love to," Weasley interrupted earnestly, reaching over to shake Bones's hand enthusiastically. "When can I start? I have some ideas for—"
"Is that Harry?" the younger Weasley interrupted their conversation. He was looking over the battlements down toward the lawns several stories below. All eyes followed his gaze.
Sure enough a lone, dark-haired figure was walking briskly across the lawns in the direction of the lake and the edge of the Forbidden Forest.
"Harry?" asked Mr. Weasley surprised.
Kingsley looked down on him incredulously and more than a little angrily. "What the bloody hell is he doing out there all on his own? Doesn't he realise how dangerous it still is out there?" Professor McGonagall was also staring over the battlements with a worried frown on her face.
"I'll go after him," said Mr. Weasley, moving toward the door through which they had come out, though his gaze was still fixed on the figure down below.
"Oh, but I really need some time to arrange a sit-down with you and the Minister to make some preparations for the committee…" Bones replied, casting an annoyed glance down at Potter who was now skirting the edge of the lake. Bones seemed personally offended that Potter was getting in the way of his plans.
"Gawain," said Kingsley, looking torn. "I hate to ask it of you, but…"
"I'll go." Gawain replied. Since his promotion to Head of the Auror Office two years ago, he had rather thought his days of personal protective duty were behind him. And yet here he was… But Kingsley looked grateful, so without further delay, he made his way back the way they had come.
Out on the grounds, he paused for the briefest of moments to get his bearings. Then he trailed swiftly after the direction he had seen Potter going. What, for the love of Merlin, was the boy doing out here? He didn't strike Gawain as a fool. And yet he would wander, unprotected into the forest where Merlin only knew how many Death Eaters and dark creatures still hid…? What was he playing at?
Skirting the edge of the lake, he saw ahead a small thicket of trees just where the lake met the Forbidden Forest. He could not see around the trees. As he approached, he heard a loud grating sound as though the sliding of large stones against each other. Wand in hand, he quickened his pace and stealthily rounded the trees. And there, perhaps five metres away, was Potter.
Gawain wasn't sure what he had been expecting. Potter stood, head bowed, with his back to him next to a white marble tomb. The sun was filtering through the leaves of a beech tree and casting dappled patterns across the ground and sparkling against the marble. Gawain supposed it must be the resting place of Albus Dumbledore. He knew he was the only one to have ever been buried on the Hogwarts grounds.
A twig snapped under Gawain's foot as he approached. He glanced down for the barest of moments, then back to Potter, only to find that Potter was now facing him, his wand pointed directly at Gawain's chest, a hard expression on his face. Gawain could not help but be impressed by the quickness of his draw. But the feeling was a little marred as the boy looked ready to curse him into oblivion.
They stood for the breadth of a few breaths, staring at each other from across the thicket. Potter's face softened to one of caution and some uncertainty. But still he didn't lower his wand. Slowly, Gawain raised his hands in submission. "It's only me," he said, gruffly.
"What are you doing here?" Potter shot a quick glance over his shoulder at the tomb on the lakeshore, then looked right back to Gawain, frowning.
"Looking for you. We saw you heading out of the castle on your own. The Minister was worried."
"So he sent you to tail me?" Potter's tone was incredulous. Still he had not lowered his wand from its mark over Gawain's heart.
"It's not safe for you out here on your own."
"How many times do I have to say it? I don't need or want Ministry protection!"
"Take it up with Kingsley," Gawain shrugged, his hands still held up with palms facing Potter. "But when the Minister of Magic asks me to do something, I do it."
"Don't think I won't!" Potter sighed in irritation, but he at long last lowered his wand. He looked back at Dumbledore's tomb. Then back to Gawain. "How long were you there?" he asked, frowning at Gawain and bothering his lower lip with his teeth.
"I only just arrived. I really didn't mean to disturb you. You can take your time. Pay your respects," he said, nodding toward the tomb. It was common knowledge that Potter and Dumbledore had been close; he supposed it was only natural Potter would want to visit his grave now that the War was over. And he supposed he could understand why he would have wanted to come out here on his own, even if it was stupid. "Just pretend I'm not here. I can back off and give you a little privacy. Then when you're ready, I'll escort you back up to the castle."
Potter was still frowning at him. He looked over his shoulder at the tomb, then back to Gawain. "That's not necessary. I'm quite done here, thank you." Despite the words, there was no gratitude in the boy's tone.
He made to walk around Gawain and head back toward the castle. Just as the boy was circling him, however, Gawain heard a rustling from the forest's edge and his eye caught movement in the shadows of the trees some ten metres away.
"Get behind me!" Gawain snapped, side-stepping in front of Potter, his wand raised in the direction of the forest. "Show yourself!" he commanded toward the shadows.
And from the treeline, slowly came forth a centaur. Then another behind him. Then another. And another. The whole herd seemed to have arrived. They moved remarkably silently.
Gawain paused for a moment of indecision. Centaurs could be dangerous creatures, by all accounts. He moved his wand between each of them in turn bracing himself for one to make a move. But Merlin, there were so many! If they decided to charge…
Then he felt a hand reaching up from behind him, gently but firmly pulling his wand arm down. "Put that away," Potter said softly to him to him. "Wands will be of no help here." Gawain complied, but he stayed at alert, even as Potter brushed passed him and approached the centaur herd.
"Magorian," Potter gave a small bow toward the centaur at the head of the herd. "Bane." Potter nodded to a black-haired and hard-faced centaur to his right. "It's good to see you. And Firenze. You look so much better. I hope you are recovering from your wounds?" This last, he directed toward a palomino centaur with ice blue eyes.
"Harry Potter," greeted the palomino, stepping forward ahead of the others. "I am quite recovered. Poppy Pomfrey's skills are quite exceptional."
"They are," Potter agreed. "You have rejoined the herd," he observed, glancing around at the other centaurs, his gaze lingering a little longer on the centaur he had called Magorian.
"I have," replied Firenze. "I hope to use the connections I have made to act as an emissary between our peoples. Too long have the centaurs and the wizards been at odds with each other. I would have us see days of peace and cooperation."
"I think that's wonderful, Firenze," Potter said sincerely. "If there is anything I can ever do to help with that, you only have to ask. I am so grateful for all you did in the Battle. All of you," he added, looking around the herd, making eye contact with each in turn.
Magorian, who seemed to be the leader of the herd stood forward now. His face was stern and proud and he held his chin high. "We have come to pay our respects to you. You are a friend of the centaurs, Harry Potter," he said in a deep baritone voice. "And centaurs do not forget their friends." And with these words, the centaur bent one of his front legs, extending the other, and sank into a deep bow. Gawain watched in awe as one by one, as though ripples of a stone cast in a pool, the centaurs all followed suit, sinking into deep bows.
Potter looked quite taken aback and more than a little awkward at this. "Er… thanks. I'm, er… so glad to be friends with the centaurs…" He glanced at Gawain as though hoping he may know how to save him from this. But Gawain was utterly at a loss. Gawain thought he would have been much more adept at saving him if the centaurs had just attacked, like he had initially thought they intended.
Potter cleared his throat awkwardly. "Anyway… We were just going… So, er…"
"Farewell, Harry Potter," said Firenze. "We will meet again." And with that, he and the other centaurs turned with tails flicking and trotted back into the forest.
Potter watched them go for a moment, then let his breath out in a whoosh. "Well, that was awkward," he muttered. Gawain wasn't sure if he was speaking to him of to himself.
Potter turned and looked at Gawain again, considering him for a moment in silence, the frown back on his face. "Well… I have a few words to say to Kingsley it would seem. So if you're insisting on following me, keep up." And with that, he marched past Gawain at a brisk pace, heading back in the direction of the castle.
The lad was quick and sure-footed, Gawain observed, as he trailed behind Potter who was circumventing the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Gawain kept his wand out, eyes scanning the trees for any sign of a threat.
A threat did not take long to come. Abruptly Gawain realised the ground was trembling in rhythmic thumps. Ahead, a tree was pushed aside and out stepped a giant. Bloody hell, what is going on in this place!
But before Gawain could more than gape in reaction, Potter was waving up at the giant and calling, "Hullo, Grawp!"
"Harry?" And then Gawain noticed Rubeus Hagrid was striding along beside the giant. "Harry!"
Hagrid ran up and pulled Harry into what looked like a bone crushing hug which Potter returned easily. "Hi, Hagrid."
"Blimey, Harry, but it's good te see yeh. We didn' know where yeh'd gone. We've been worried."
"I'm sorry, Hagrid. I'm fine, really. I didn't mean to make you worry. Just needed a bit of time to myself."
"Where Hermy?" the giant Potter had called Grawp interrupted in a deep booming voice. "Grawp want Hermy."
Potter raised his voice to call up to him in response. "She's not with me today, Grawp. She's in Australia. I'm sure she'll come back to visit soon."
The giant crouched down to try (and failed) to be at a level with Potter. "Grawp miss Hermy."
"I know, Grawp. Me too." Potter reached up and patted the giant's shin bone sympathetically.
Hagrid was regarding Potter with a sad sort of understanding. Abruptly, he seemed to notice Gawain standing behind him. "Robards!" Hagrid greeted. "Keepin' an eye on my Harry, are yeh? Tha's grand."
This soured Potter's mood quite visibly. Gawain thought it better not to respond, merely nodded his greeting to Hagrid.
"Yes, well… Not for long, if I have anything to say about it," Potter grumbled. Hagrid seemed confused by the comment, but Potter did not give him time to ask. "Listen Hagrid, we're headed back to the castle. I have to speak to Kingsley. But there should be lunch served soon in the Great Hall. Will you come up and join me before I head home?"
"Love ter. Grawpy and I are just finishing up burying the last of the acromantulas. Shouldn't be much longer, I reckon. Found a nice place for 'em an' all. Righ' near Aragog." He nodded his head back the way they had come, then took out a large spotted handkerchief and blew his nose with a sound like a trumpet. "Righ' shame, it is, that they went an' joined You Know Who. But I just couldn't leave 'em."
"Er… yes. A shame," replied Potter, noncommittally. "Well, I'll see you in a bit, then."
And with that Gawain was hastening along behind Potter again. Potter did not look around to ensure Gawain was following. Indeed, he did not acknowledge him at all for the rest of the walk up to the castle.
As they crossed the Entrance Hall and headed toward the marble staircase, they passed Professor Sprout coming down.
"Professor Sprout, do you know where the Minister is?" Potter asked politely.
"Yes, dear. I only just left them. They're just taking a walk through the Hospital Wing with Madam Pomfrey now." Potter nodded his thanks and then was taking the stairs two at a time.
Gawain prided himself on being in really very good physical shape for being forty-six years old. His profession was active enough to ensure he exercised regularly. But even so, Gawain was finding himself rather winded as he took off up the stairs after Potter. Bloody hell, I'm getting too old for this.
Potter turned a corner on the fourth floor and Gawain skidded a bit on the stone floors as he fought to keep up. And then there was Kingsley, coming out of the Hospital Wing. He was in conversation with Madam Pomfrey with McGonagall and Flitwick listening on, and Bones and Ben were still in tow.
Potter stormed over, interrupting their conversation with no hint of shame. "Call off your guard dog!" he barked at Kingsley.
Kingsley cut off mid-sentence with Madam Pomfrey and looked around, blinking bemusedly. "I beg your pardon?"
Potter pointed directly to Gawain. "We already talked about this. I don't care if it's for my own good. You have no right to go having me followed."
"Harry…" said Kingsley, gently as understanding came to his face.
"Don't 'Harry' me! I told you that very first night that I didn't want you or anyone from the Ministry keeping tabs on me."
"We saw you wandering off onto the grounds. We were worried. I wasn't trying to keep tabs on you, honest. We just didn't want something to happen to you. It's still not safe out there."
"I can make that decision for myself, thanks. I've been on my own the past year. I'm not a helpless child anymore. I'm of age, and I have every right to make my own choices."
"Honestly, Harry! If you don't want us following you, then just be smart about it and don't go wandering off into dangerous situations on your own!" Kingsley was starting to show some annoyance.
"I can take risks for myself—"
"No, you can't!"
Potter made a noise of frustration and snapped, "Remind me what Dumbledore's last words to you were."
"I…what…?"
"What did he tell you?"
Kingsley paused for a moment, looking at Harry with a crease between his brows. Potter stared straight back, holding his gaze demandingly. Kingsley licked his lips, then said softly, "He said to trust you…"
"Have I given you reason not to?"
There was another long pause. Then, "No…"
They stared at each other in silence for a moment. Kingsley looked torn between shame and frustration.
Then Potter turned on his heel, calling over his shoulder. "Don't do it again, Kingsley."
The collection of Ministry members and Hogwarts staff watched him disappear down toward the Great Hall. Gawain noted McGonagall cast a quick look to Kingsley and a small thin smile cross face which she hastily hid. Gawain wasn't entirely sure what she found so amusing, for she said nothing.
After a long moment, Madam Pomfrey was the one to break the silence. "Did I mention that irritability can also be a sign of post-traumatic stress?"
Gawain felt good about the proposal for protective enchantments he and Professor Flitwick had assembled. They luncheoned in Professor McGonagall's office, going over figures and finalising plans. He wished they could have chosen a different room for this meeting. Twice, Gawain had glanced up to the portrait over McGonagall's chair to find Dumbledore seated, finger tips together, regarding him with a small smile and twinkling eyes that Gawain could not read. It was distracting and, for some reason, unnerving.
He was quite glad when Kingsley declared they were ready to head back to the Ministry and assemble the necessary teams and equipment to dispatch back to Hogwarts. They took their leave of the Hogwarts professors and headed down the seventh floor corridor toward the staircase to the lower levels.
Gawain walked beside Kingsley. "I suppose we should see if Harry wants to head back now with us or stay..." The Minister looked uncertain, clearly wondering if this was going to rekindle the previous argument.
"He mentioned having lunch with Hagrid in the Great Hall," Gawain offered. "He may still be there." Kingsley nodded.
Abruptly, Kingsley skidded to a halt in the corridor and Gawain stopped with him. Bones and Ben overtook them a few steps before pausing and looking back in their direction. Kingsley looked around checking for other listeners, then sighed and turned to Gawain.
"I trust your opinion Gawain," he said softly. "I don't need to know where he was or what he was doing. Harry has made it very clear he has no interest in including me in his decisions. But just tell me this, so I can decide how worried to be for him. Did he have a good reason for wandering off like that?"
Gawain thought of finding Potter at Dumbledore's tomb and picked his words carefully, hoping to maintain the lad's privacy as well as offer some level of assurance to the Minister. "He had reason. It was one of sentimentality, not pragmatism," he said, cautiously. "Reckless, perhaps. But one I can understand."
Kingsley looked at him silently for a moment, then nodded and continued on his walk down the hallway. Gawain matched his pace.
"How long have you known him?" Gawain finally asked the question he had long been wondering. "Truthfully."
Kingsley smiled at him. "About three years."
"And all that time, never came up in conversation, I suppose…"
"Don't be cross with me, Gawain. At the time that I met him, Fudge was still Minister, and he quite had it out for the boy. I wanted to help keep him safe, from more than just Voldemort." Gawain couldn't help the flinch. "I was uniquely placed in the Ministry to have more power to help with that than most of the Order of the Phoenix. There were few people we knew we could trust. And I had a part to play."
"You didn't trust me, you mean." Gawain wasn't exactly offended. Just wanted to clarify the point.
Kingsley looked at him for a moment of silence, chewing his lower lip. "Dumbledore asked me about recruiting you to the Order. Mad-Eye had already brought on Tonks, and he saw the value of having more Aurors in the ranks." He took a deep breath. Then said, "I discouraged it."
Gawain frowned and swallowed. He wasn't sure why this stung so much. He had never actually given thought to joining the Order of the Phoenix, and in truth, he likely would have said no. Conflicting emotions were battling in his mind, but he tried to keep his face blank. He wasn't sure if he felt resentment that Kingsley had not trusted him enough to offer or shame that he, Gawain, had not made his loyalties clear enough to remove doubt.
Kingsley put a hand on his shoulder and pulled him to a stop again, looking him in the eye. "It wasn't because I didn't trust you. I just didn't think it was fair. To drag you into this again. After everything you went through in the First War. And now you have a wife and a daughter… You were rebuilding your life. Who was I to bring it all crashing down again?"
Gawain considered this for a moment in silence, then nodded in understanding. They resumed their walking.
"Do you think he'll come around? Potter?" Gawain asked after a time. Kingsley looked at him questioningly. They had reached the top of the marble staircase and began their descent to the Entrance Hall. "I mean, you do want him to join the Ministry, don't you?"
It was a no-brainer, really. For all that Kingsley insisted his coming here with Potter was just about offering him protection, there had to be another reason. Maybe not exactly the one that he was denying so vehemently—taking advantage of Potter's celebrity. But really, this was politics, after all. One would have to be a fool to not see that Potter would be invaluable in the Ministry. That his mere presence would show faith in the new Ministry they were building and that countless of others would follow suit. And if accounts were correct, it seemed Potter would actually have some useful skills, fame or no fame.
Kingsley considered him for a moment, a crease between his brows, fingering the earring in one ear. "Harry will have to come to that decision on his own. I know him well enough to know that if I push him in that direction, he'll only be more likely to pull away." Gawain regarded the man beside him and marvelled at the difference between him and Rufus Scrimgeour, for all that many of their aims would have been in alignment.
At this point, they had reached the doors to the Great Hall and Kingsley scanned the room for Potter. The Hall was even more full than it had been before as people finished their lunch. Two of the House tables had been set up again, but Gawain noted that nobody seemed to be sitting in accordance with house.
Gawain caught sight of Potter in the far corner and nodded in his direction for Kingsley's benefit. Indeed, it was not particularly hard to find him as eyes from most all of the occupants of the room were flitting toward that corner every few seconds. That and the fact that Hagrid's head hung twice as high as those around him.
As they approached, they saw Potter seated, an elbow on the table as he leaned across the table to talk with an old man with wiry grey hair and beard. Next to the old man, Gawain recognised Madam Rosmerta, the proprietor of the Three Broomsticks. Gawain noticed Potter's plate only half eaten.
"We're headed back to the Ministry, Harry. We could see you as far as the gate, if you're ready to go." Gawain knew Kingsley well enough to hear the apprehension in his tone, though he doubted many of the others did. Potter turned then and looked over his shoulder at Kingsely from his seat. He stared at Kingsley a moment with a hint of remorse in his eyes, and Gawain realised that no… at least one other person could read Kingsley's apprehension.
"Right," said Potter after a moment. "Sure." He rose to his feet, extracting himself from the bench.
Hagrid got up too. "You'll be back to visit, won't yeh?" he said, giving Potter another bone-crushing hug.
"Of course, Hagrid. You know me. Never could stay away from Hogwarts for long."
Potter turned toward the other two and nodded at each in turn. "Madam Rosmerta, a pleasure. It was good to see you Aberforth."
He turned and made to follow the others out of the Great Hall.
Then man he named Aberforth called after him, however, apparently finishing their conversation which had just been interrupted.
"I still don't know what my brother did to deserve your loyalty, Potter. But he was lucky to have it." He was leaning back in his seat, regarding Potter over a tankard of what appeared to be mead. "I still think you're a right fool mind… Would have been much smarter to just give up and flee the country like I told you to."
"Hypocrisy doesn't suit you, Aberforth," Potter called back with a fond smile, taking a few steps backward in the direction of the door. "You're not any better at giving up than I am, it would seem. And I'm very lucky for it." And with that, he turned and walked away.
Gawain stole a look back at Aberforth and saw he too was smiling slightly and shaking his head. Hagrid had his giant polka dotted handkerchief out again and was dabbing at his eyes. A little down the Hall, he saw Bones's daughter, sitting with friends and watching them go. She did not wave to her father.
Just as they reached the doors out of the Great Hall and Gawain was thinking they were finally in the clear of the throng, Potter paused, clapping hands with the round-faced Gryffindor Gawain had noticed him embracing before when they had first arrived.
"Are you leaving?" asked the boy.
"Yeah, I'll be back though," Potter said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Sorry, we didn't get much time to catch up. Next time. Just the two of us. Let's think of something normal to do together. What do normal people do, anyway?"
The boy laughed. "Dunno. Don't think either of us was ever good at being normal."
Potter snapped his fingers. "A game of Exploding Snap and a couple of butterbeers. What do you think?"
"Sounds perfect."
"Are you staying for a while?" asked Potter.
The other boy looked about at the destruction around them. "Yeah… There's still a lot to do around here. Reckon I can be helpful." He shrugged.
Potter smiled. Then he turned to a stately-looking elderly woman who Gawain had not noticed had been hanging back and listening to the two boy's conversation. Gawain felt he had met the woman before, but he could not place her. "Your grandson is too good for this world, Mrs. Longbottom," Potter said. Longbottom? Gawain's eyes went back to the boy Potter had been talking to. Was this Frank and Alice's boy? He'd quite forgotten they had had a son.
"I know it," she said, looking at her grandson with pride. He, in turn, was blushing. "His parents would be very proud of him," she added, patting a stray hair down on the boys head and making him blush even deeper.
Potter smiled sadly, and said, very simply, "They already are." And with that, he nodded to them, said "See ya later, Neville," and then headed for the front doors of the castle and out onto the grounds.
No sooner had the heavy oak double doors closed behind them than Potter let out a great sigh and his posture slumped noticeably.
"Did I forget anybody?" Potter asked aloud to no one in particular. "Oh man. That was exhausting. I think I've talked to more people just today than I did this whole past year. Rough time to be an introvert…"
Kingsley was smiling proudly at him. "You did great, Harry," he said softly.
Potter looked at him and they each stood at the top of the stone stairs facing each other. Kingsley looked back with slightly wary eyes. Gawain knew neither had forgotten their prior argument.
After an awkward silence that had Gawain shifting uncomfortably, Potter spoke first. "I'm sorry." He said it simply and did not elaborate.
"I'm sorry too," came Kingsley's response. Just as simply.
And with that, the two men began to descend the stairs and Gawain and the others followed suit.
They walked in silence for a moment. Then Potter continued. "I know you mean well. But you have to understand…"
"I do," said Kingsley. "I do understand. For years, you had Order members tailing you every summer and people telling you where to go and Ministry members trying to control you… I understand the desire for privacy and autonomy. I should respect that." Potter listened to this quietly, looking at Kingsley out of the corner of his eye with a guarded expression. "You're grown up now. Obviously, you made it through the last year on your own. You've proved you deserve some trust."
Kingsley's feet paused again, and Potter turned to look at him, hands in his pockets. He seemed to be waiting for the 'but'. And it came, of course.
"But Harry… Please promise me, you'll be careful. You can't just go wandering off on your own. It's not safe." Potter did not meet his eye now, instead looking out into the trees of the forest contemplatively. "Whatever the Daily Prophet is saying, I don't think neither you nor I really believe that you're immortal. You beat the odds to get to this point. Don't throw it all away on something stupid. If anything were to happen to you, it would be…" He trailed off looking for the right word.
"Inconvenient?" Potter supplied, finally looking at Kingsley again with eyebrows raised.
Kingsley looked back at him incredulously. "Devastating. I was going to say 'devastating'."
At that word, Potter's face fell into one of guilt and sorrow. He turned and they all started walking toward the gate again.
"It wasn't 'stupid', you know," Potter said after a few steps.
"What?"
"You said, 'don't throw it away on something stupid.' It wasn't 'stupid'."
Kingsley nodded. "Poor choice of words," he acknowledged. "And for the record, I don't need to know where you were going or what you were doing. I already told Gawain I didn't want to know." Potter looked at Gawain meditatively, and when Gawain met his eye, he thought he saw a hint of respect pass between them.
"Then you'll just have to trust me," said Potter. "If it wasn't important… to me," he added the last two words after a small pause, glancing at Gawain again, looking a little awkward, "then I wouldn't have done it. I'm not throwing anything away."
Kingsley nodded. "I believe you."
They began to climb the hill up toward the crest where they had looked out at the castle and all the destruction earlier that morning.
"To be honest, Harry, we're all a little befuddled. Everyone is worrying about you. The teachers, the Weasleys. No one understands why you decided to go back to Grimmauld Place on your own."
"Blast! I forgot!" Potter interrupted him. He stopped in his tracts and looked back toward the castle.
"What's wrong?" Kingsley asked, distracted.
"There is someone I forgot to talk to!" Then he looked around and said into the open air "Kreacher?"
There was a crack like a whip. Gawain and Ben both had their wands drawn in an instant, ready to curse… a House-elf?
"Whoa whoa whoa," Potter said, hands raised and stepping between their wands and an ancient looking House-elf wearing a white tea towel and, strangely, a locket around its neck. "We don't need any wand-happy Aurors hexing my elf, thank you very much."
He then turned to the elf. "Hello, Kreacher."
"Is Master needing Kreacher to dispatch these attackers," the elf croaked in a voice that sounded like a bullfrog, raising long fingers in the direction of Gawain and Ben.
"No, thank you Kreacher. I think I can take them on my own if I need to." Potter was grinning down at the ancient ugly little thing, much as one would look at a beloved puppy. "No, I was just wondering if you were ready to come home."
"Come home? Master wants Kreacher to come home?"
"Only if you'd like to," Potter hastened to say. "The house just isn't the same without you, Kreacher. Of course, if you would prefer to stay at Hogwarts..."
"Kreacher will go now to say his farewells to his new friends in Hogwarts. Then he will go home at once."
"Of course, Kreacher. I'm so glad you have made friends here. You can come and see them any time you like."
It was one of the oddest of conversations that Gawain had ever witnessed. He had never had a House-elf himself, but this was hardly the relationship he thought most had with their masters. Then he thought of the conversation Potter had had with the centaurs and the giant and wondered if this boy was going to make him reset his standards on "odd".
"The other elves will be so jealous," Kreacher was croaking gleefully. "They are all jealous that Kreacher gets to serve the Defender of the House-Elves."
"Er… right. Well, good then. I'll see you at home?"
"Kreacher will make Master's favourite treacle tart for pudding!" the elf said happily.
Potter laughed, fondly. "That sounds lovely. Thank you, Kreacher."
And with that, the elf Disapparated with another crack.
Potter continued walking, a smile on his lips as the others all looked at him incredulously. Kingsley hastened to catch up.
"There," said Potter. "See? I won't be on my own." He smiled at Kingsley.
"A half insane House-elf was not exactly what I had in mind…"
"Half insane or otherwise, Kreacher has become really quite devoted to me. He'll watch my back, don't worry."
After a moment in which Kinsley was very clearly worrying, Potter said, "Would it make you feel better if we renewed the Fidelius Charm?"
"It's a start," replied Kingsley.
Potter stopped, turned and looked at Kingsley dead in the eye. "Good. Then I'd like you to be my Secret-Keeper." He said it matter-of-factly and without a hint of hesitation.
Kingsley opened and closed his mouth a few times like a fish out of water. "I… I'd be honoured," he finally stuttered.
"Brilliant. How's tomorrow for you?" Potter continued walking, not waiting for the response.
"I… yes. Absolutely."
"Cool. I've never done one, but… I'll do some research tonight. Find out what we need." Kingsley was staring after Potter with a bemused expression on his face.
Potter was a few strides ahead when Kingsley managed to compose himself again.
"Harry," he called after him. "There's one more thing I need to talk to you about." He lengthened his stride to catch up again. They had at long last reached the gate and the two men paused, just inside the grounds, facing each other. Kingsley licked his lips uncertainly.
Potter looked at his face, read something there that Gawain did not see, and abruptly looked wary.
"Ah," he said, his shoulders slumping. "So it's time, is it?"
Kingsley nodded slowly. "We start hearings on Monday morning. There's a lot to go through. The holding cells are full. So many people have been accused, and we have to start sorting through who is culpable, who was or wasn't acting of their own freewill, who was coerced, who was blackmailed or threatened into it… It's a mess." Kingsley sighed. For the first time, Gawain realised he looked tired.
"There are a lot of blanks in our story over the past couple years. And I think a lot of those blanks you can fill in. His eyes were on Potter's face, but Potter was determinedly studying the remaining winged boar flanking the gate. "You knew I was going to need to ask…"
He trailed off for a bit, waiting for Potter to say something. When he didn't, he continued. "The Wizengamot has been pressuring me to fix a time for you to come in and testify… I've been holding them off as long as I can. I want to give you time to rest and recuperate, but…"
"Yeah, I get it," interrupted Potter. He looked resigned. Rather as a man was resigned as he walked to the gallows. He looked back at Kingsley. "When?"
"Would nine o'clock do? Monday morning?"
Potter nodded. "At the Ministry?"
"Yes. Down in the courtrooms."
Potter grimaced. "My favourite place," he said sarcastically. "You know, last time I was there, Ministry officials tried to kill me. Is that going to happen again?"
Kingsley looked taken aback. "I… I certainly hope not," he said distracted. "When were you last there?"
"Never mind." Potter shook his head. "We'll add that to the list of blanks I can fill in on Monday," he said, dismissively.
"Right… Well, I'll keep your name off the agenda—use a pseudonym. No one but the five of us present will know when you'll be coming. And I'll have the Magical Law Enforcement Squad patrolling the Atrium when you arrive. We've already heightened security, but we'll of course, knock it up another notch while you're there. And if it would be alright with you… I really would like you to have an Auror escort while on the premises?" He said this as a question.
Potter was silent for a moment. He had his arms crossed and was drumming the fingers of his right hand rhythmically on the other elbow as he stood regarding Kingsley. Then at last, "Okay." Gawain saw Kingsley let out a breath he had been holding.
Gawain thought that was the end of it for a moment. But then Potter took in a deep breath. "One more thing. And for the record… this isn't about you. That is to say…" He paused a moment, collecting his thoughts. Then he continued.
"Remember when I was fifteen? And they put me on trial when I used a Patronus Charm to save my Muggle cousin and me from a couple of Dementors?"
"Yes…"
"And during that trial, a large number of the Wizengamot voted to convict me."
"Yes, but Harry… Many of those people are no longer on the Wizengamot. And those were different times…"
"That's not what I'm getting at. Not really. The thing is… Well, the thing is, I've done a lot worse than perform underage magic in the presence of a Muggle in the past couple years… I've broken more than a few laws..."
"Yes, yes, we've already talked about you Apparating without a license…"
"A lot worse than that, Kingsley."
They were silent for a moment, Kingsley was frowning back at him, clearly wondering what all he was going to hear on Monday. "You are asking for impunity?"
Potter smiled humourlessly. "Again. I'm not worried about you. And yes. I know times are different now. But I also have been around the block enough to know that times keep on changing and public perception changes with it. And people's opinion of me seems to be a part of that. I just want some assurances that down the line, whatever testimony I give, isn't going to come back to haunt me. Or Ron or Hermione."
Kingsley gave a small chuckle, shaking his head. "That shouldn't be a problem. For the information you can offer us, I see no reason why we can grant a pardon… We've done it with Death Eaters in the past, after all." He laughed bemusedly again. "Er… Would you like it in writing?"
"That would be great. You can bring it tomorrow when you come to do the Fidelius Charm." He turned and marched through the gate. "Anything else you need before I go?"
"I have one more question, actually," Ben spoke up abruptly. Everyone looked at him in surprise. He'd been quite uncharacteristically quiet today. When Potter turned and raised a questioning eyebrow at him, he said, "You really think you can take us?" Ben gestured to himself and Gawain. It was hardly Gawain's first question from the events of the day, but he had to admit, he was curious to know the answer.
Potter grinned at him. "Let's not find out." And he winked, turned on his heal, and Disapparated with a pop.