Sacrifices to be Made
It was around half past seven when Harry Apparated under the protection of his Invisibility Cloak in front of the gate to the school grounds. He looked around to make sure that he was alone. Harry lifted the gate's special locking spell. Strictly speaking, he wasn't allowed to do so because he was here in private, but he knew that he was persona grata with McGonagall and was sure that she would allow it. Like Hermione barely 36 hours earlier, he enjoyed the short walk up to the castle and reminisced about the time when he had been a young student here.
He opened the castle door just as much he needed to slip in. Some students were just coming from dinner in the Great Hall. James was not among them, he had to be already in the common room. Harry hurried up to Gryffindor Tower and did not have to wait long before a younger student, after telling the Fat Lady's portrait the correct password, "Poached Eggs", was let in and Harry could follow him under his Invisibility Cloak.
James and some of his peers were sitting in armchairs around a table. For a moment, Harry listened to their conversation, but what they were talking about was nothing he was interested in. He approached his son from behind, bent down to him and spoke softly into his left ear:
"Don't turn around now." When James recognised his father's voice, he jerked a little, but then forced himself to continue looking straight ahead. "I'm wearing the Invisibility Cloak. Please come out with me, we need to talk."
James stood up. At the questioning glances of his friends, he mumbled something about the library, then made his way to the exit. Outside, Harry whispered to him: "One floor below us is an empty classroom. That's where we're going."
In the classroom, Harry finally took off the cloak. Father and son embraced each other.
"What's with the cloak?", James asked what he had been guessing about all along. "Are you banned from Hogwarts?"
"I don't want to give the impression," Harry replied, "that the Auror Department is carrying out investigations at Hogwarts ..."
"They should. There are enough reasons," James cheekily interrupted him.
"... nor would I like to make your schoolmates jealous, who would perhaps also like to have a visit from their parents. You won't tell anyone I was here, let alone what we talked about."
"Sir, yes sir!" said James with an irony that his father did not like.
"What kind of action was that against the Slytherins this morning?"
"Cool, right? Hermione was still with us yesterday and told us to keep cornering the Slytherins until they either chicken out or drop their mask."
"What kind of mask?" asked Harry, puzzled.
"Well, their cant about the new Slytherin. She told us to apply as much pressure as possible. Some will keep their gobs shut out of fear ..."
"James!"
"... the others are to be provoked to the point they show they're Death Eaters so that we can do something against them. The scaring is already working." He grinned smugly. "They dare to come out of their hole only in packs."
Harry could hardly believe to hear these words from his own son. And yet this mean, nasty style seemed unpleasantly familiar to him – yes, when he had delved into Snape's memories in his Pensieve and witnessed his own father James as a fifteen-year-old, humiliating Snape out of sheer spite.
"What do you mean?" he asked. "Show they're Death Eaters?"
"Hermione says that under pressure, some will buckle and the others, who form the hard core, become aggressive and maybe violent. And that's the point," James concluded triumphantly, "where we catch them!"
"Who is we?"
"Well, all supporters of Hermione. If you ask me, she's brilliant. You're supporting her too, aren't you?"
There was a slight doubt in James' voice, as his father did not seem to share his enthusiasm at all.
Harry was unable to say Yes. Of course he supported Hermione, but ...
"Such methods I don't support!"
James looked at his father, perplexed. "Er, Dad, it's a clear instruction from the Minister for Magic ..."
"Instruction? She hasn't got to give you any instructions!", Harry countered angrily. "The Ministry has no say at all at Hogwarts!"
James replied, slightly in a dither: "Well, if it's because of Al, I can reassure you. Hermione told us, that's Rose, Victoire and me, to make an effort to pull him away from his Death Eater friends. Well, we haven't had much success so far. He is avoiding us."
"I'd do the same if I were him," Harry growled.
"In any case, he has nothing to fear from us. Victoire has clearly given instruction to all Gryffindors to leave the Slytherins alone with Al around."
"Victoire?"
"As a Prefect, she has sort of taken command."
Harry went to the window and pretended to look out, although there was nothing at all to be seen in the darkness. It took him a moment to calm down before he turned back to his son.
"Do you actually realise what this could lead to?" he asked forcefully. "If you continue to escalate in this manner, there may be deaths!"
"I don't think so!"
"Oh, you don't think so? What the hell do you know?"
For a moment he had to struggle not to lose his temper. Then he said in a low voice:
"Draco and I almost killed each other in a like situation! He would have died if Snape hadn't been there to save him with a counterspell! Could you live with something like that? I couldn't!"
James had gone a little pale, but he replied: "Dad, this is a war. There are sacrifices to be made."
"Did Hermione tell you that kind of pompous rubbish, too?"
James swallowed. "Please don't talk about her like that. Hermione is the best thing that has ever happened to the wizarding world, and I stand by her one hundred percent. Unlike you." And in a low voice, he added: "Be glad if I keep to myself what I just heard."
He headed off and walked out while his father was staring after him, stunned.
Had his thirteen-year-old son really just threatened to blacken him with his boss and friend as unreliable?
Yes, he had.
Harry forced himself not to think about it for now. He had given himself a mission and would carry it out. He had to meet McGonagall.