I felt guilty capitalising on my friendship with Ginny like this. Abrupt would be the best way to handle this, I decided. Honest. No false pleasantries.
My resolve weakened when a flash of red hair sprung at me before I'd even reached the front door.
"I've missed you!" Ginny exclaimed, pulling back to examine me. "Are you feeling okay?"
"I'm fine." I bit my lip. "Ginny, I know we need a catch up, but I'm actually here to see Harry."
"You're in luck. He's actually home for a few hours." Ginny lowered her voice. "Is this about Marcus?"
I remembered, then, Marcus's threat while I was in St. Mungo's. It had been overshadowed by the argument with my parents, and then my appointment with Laurens. But really, what harm could a piece of paper do? There was no actual proof Marcus had even been the one to send it. Only the quill concealment spell had given it away. And that likely meant nothing to anybody else.
"No," I decided. "It's actually about Draco."
Ginny crossed her arms, suddenly defensive. "Harry doesn't have anything to do with that. His team didn't authorise shutting down the protests."
"I just need to ask a few questions," I pleaded. "Please, Ginny. You know I wouldn't do this if it wasn't important."
She considered for a moment. I hadn't told her just how ill I was — that I essentially had a death date. But she was observant. Smart. Would she consider this my dying wish? Would that guilt her into agreeing?
"Alright," she decided. "But don't give him a hard time. Like I said, it's out of his hands."
She remained colder towards me as we entered. But, like always, their home seemed to wrap me in a tight hug. Unexpectedly, a small child came toddling through to greet us. He had serious eyes, and a smile like magic itself. Even as I bent down to greet him, he scrunched up his little face, and the thick, black curls atop his head turned bright green.
"Aren't you clever?" I said softly, extending a hand.
He wrapped a fist firmly around my index finger, giggling.
"This is Teddy," Ginny introduced us. "Our god-son."
"He's gorgeous," I answered honestly.
Teddy lifted his arms, babbled, "up!"
I scooped him up in my own. His weight felt so comfortable against me. I pulled a face, and earned another melodic giggle. I imagined, once more, how it would be to have a child of my own. How it would be if Teddy were mine, and Draco's. There was nothing but innocence, and unconditional love in his big brown eyes, taking in the world. My heart pained in my chest.
"Harry's just through here," Ginny said.
Right. Focus, Tori. I came through to the sitting room, still carrying Teddy. He became preoccupied with stroking my hair softly, his little face lighting up in wonder. Within seconds, he'd squeezed his eyes shut once more, and turned his own hair the same ash colour as mine.
"Has Teddy been showing off?" Harry asked fondly.
He stood from the velvet sofa to shake my hand. Parchment and ink pots littered the coffee table, along with Prophet clippings and moving photos of figures in black. Harry flicked his wand to clear them away into a briefcase before I could get a proper look.
"Tea?" Ginny asked, poking her head around the door.
"Just a quick one," I agreed."
Harry and I were alone with Teddy, who'd now gotten down to play with magical blocks in the corner.
"He's adorable," I said.
Harry laughed in agreement. "How are you feeling?"
"I'm fine," I echoed my earlier answer. "I've been discharged. But, I was hoping to speak with you."
"We've cornered him," Harry said, "they'll be bringing him into the Ministry any day now. His accomplices, too, if we can get the timing right."
It took me a moment to realise what he was saying. "The attack."
"Yes." His brow furrowed. "Isn't that what you wanted to speak about?"
"Actually, no," I said slowly. "But I am very grateful."
Harry took a seat back on the sofa and gestured for me to do the same. Ginny returned with our tea and a plate of ginger biscuits. My stomach was too tight with nerves to touch anything.
"I saw yesterday's Prophet," I began, "explaining the, uh, protest incident."
Harry's eyes softened. He seemed to know where this was going.
"Well, I just wondered why Draco and his parents are facing an Azkaban sentence. They're informants for the ministry, surely you know that?"
"A separate team of aurors handle the trials and sentencing," he said.
"Yes, Ginny told me. I just…" I gulped. My journalist instincts kicked in, as though revived from the dead. "Surely you have some sway. You're respected by everyone in the Ministry. They would listen to you."
He frowned. "You say the Malfoys are Ministry informants?"
"I heard it from Shacklebolt himself. At the last confederation meeting."
Harry pushed his glasses further up his nose. "That is interesting."
"I just don't understand," I prodded further. "They've been asked by the Ministry to infiltrate the death eaters, yet they've been arrested for doing just that? It makes no sense."
I deliberately left out the fact Draco wasn't involved. But that didn't seem to fool Harry.
"Informants or not, they were caught with known death eaters. I know Draco is personally friends with several of them."
"As am I." I set my jaw. "I've met with Nott, Flint and Pucey on several occasions this year. Are you going to shackle me in chains, sentence me to Azkaban?"
Ginny glowered at me warningly. Even Teddy had stopped playing to watch our confrontation, worry etching across his face.
"I'm sorry, Astoria. There's nothing I can do." Harry stood, a polite gesture asking me to leave.
Ginny wouldn't meet me eye. I could only smile sadly at Teddy, worried I'd just sabotaged my closest friendship for nothing. And then, as though using legilimency, Teddy scrunched his little face until his hair turned platinum blonde, almost silver. Just like Draco's.
It filled me with courage. I drew myself to my full height, releasing any qualms or awkwardness.
"Harry, I will not rest until he is free. I will fight." I met his gaze. "I hope you understand. It's not personal."
He hesitated only a moment before speaking. "Do what you need to do, Astoria. I don't want to be persecuting innocent wizards — no harm, no foul." He spoke again when I turned to leave. "I'll be in touch when we have your attacker in custody. If you wish to press charges, which I strongly recommend, there will be a court proceeding. It won't be pleasant. Are you up for it?"
Still warm on my new courage, I answered. "Fuck yes I am."
The next day, I drummed my fingers anxiously on the dining table. Hard as I tried not to, my gaze kept flicking to the big window. The owl post window.
I was positive my article had reached Xenophilius before the printing deadline the night before. I'd spent most of the day penning it, checking sources, and proof-reading before sending it in. If he hadn't run it, I would need to find something else. Mass mailing-list, perhaps. Or protests of my own.
A tap on the glass made me flinch, leaping to my feet expecting a horde of owls. But it was only Daphne entering through the back door. She split her time between here and her new place with Rob. I knew she didn't sleep well at either. I'd tried suggesting Rob move in here, but she wouldn't risk it, for fear of him being seen. I'd then suggested she just stay with Rob and I visit every few days. She'd scoffed at that. Since my diagnosis, it was like I'd been made of glass.
"What's wrong?" Her face drained of colour. "Has something happened? Did you have a bleed?"
"No, of course not," I said, pouring her a coffee from the French press. "I'm just waiting to see an article I wrote, that's all. The owls are late this morning."
Daphne rolled her eyes. "You ought to put his to use."
I scowled. She didn't dare mention Draco by name, not anymore. Not since I'd seen the article about Draco's imprisonment. I remembered a terrible howling noise coming from my mouth, and falling to my knees while Daphne rushed across the room. I'd since channelled that energy into fighting. And, as the dark dots on the horizon flew larger and closer, I knew I was about to find out if my efforts had been worth it.
"Open the window," I urged, restless and agitated. "Quick!"
Daphne did as I asked, with a puzzled look on her face. A group of owls swooped down, all fighting for space on the ledge. There had to be more than a dozen.
"Tori, what the fuck?"
"The Quibbler!" I gasped, reaching for the barn owl. "He must have published it!"
I ripped the magazine free, my heart hammering as I scanned the front page.
The wrongful persecution and imprisonment of innocents: an alarming pattern and occurrence in YOUR Ministry. — Astoria Greengrass
Daphne let out a small whimper. "Why do you keep bloody doing this?"
I gulped, quickly scanning Xenophilius's attached note. He'd congratulated me on another amazing article well penned, and on my wits for seeing through the illusions cast by the Ministry's secret propaganda team.
Keep going like this, and you'll be in for a pay rise! he'd written.
"I don't think we should open the others," Daphne said. "There were some awful hate mail ones at St. Mungo's…"
"No howlers, though," I said brightly. "That's a good sign!"
Wincing, Daphne peeled a parchment open. I scrambled for a few others, eager to get a handle on my reception.
"Tori… They loved it."
Every parchment was one of praise, support, encouragement. Many had positive things to say about Draco's family, and how instrumental they'd been in defeating Voldemort. Their disgust lay with the ministry, for hoping to string the family along like puppets and then persecute them for it.
"It worked!" I beamed. "Daphne, it worked!"
"Don't get ahead of yourself," she warned. "This might not change anything."
"It changes everything." I shook my head in disbelief. "We can write petitions, we can organise protests."
"I don't think the ministry are too fond of protests after what happened," Daphne grumbled. "Let's just take the day to think about it, okay?"
More and more owls arrived throughout the day. Only two had been negative, written in barely legible scrawl. A couple had even said they were writing to Shacklebolt himself, demanding the Malfoys be released. I knew Daphne had a point — this might not change things. It could even make them worse. But it was something.
When the doorbell rang in the late afternoon, Daphne shot to her feet.
"I'll get it," she insisted, scurrying off before I could even raise from my chair.
I waited for a moment. I could hear her quietly urging whoever it was to leave, and a murmured voice insisting to see me. I was getting really sick of this.
"Stop being so overbearing," I grumbled. "What's going on?"
To my surprise, it was Blaise Zabini stood at the door. Daphne blocked the entryway with her arms crossed.
"Blaise? Come in."
Daphne had no choice but to step aside. She didn't sit with us, but instead swayed on the spot, wringing her hands.
"Now, I'm not one for the Quibbler," Zabini said. "No offence. But your articles are causing a stir."
"That's putting it mildly," I said.
"I wanted to thank you." Blaise nodded. "Me and Nott were at the protest. We got given a warning and told to go straight home. It's fucked up… And I can't help but feel guilty that Draco's where he is. Like it's my fault."
"Why's it your fault?" I asked, my curiosity piqued.
"We pushed him to go," Blaise sighed. "We all went. Me, Nott, Parkinson… did you go, in the end?"
He turned to Daphne, who shook her head wildly, lips clamped together.
"Why would Daphne be there?" I frowned.
She was frozen in fright. I eyed her with concern. Had something awful been going on?
"I think most of us from Draco's went," Blaise shrugged. "Except Hestia and Flora. Not that I complained."
I couldn't make sense of his words. Daphne's pleading gaze gave no information.
"What do you mean, Draco's?"
"Draco's place in France?" Blaise said, in the tone of someone explaining something very simple. "Weren't you there?"
"No," I said slowly. "I was still in St. Mungo's the night of the protest." Daphne dropped her head into her hands. "Daph? Explain, please."
Blaise's eyes widened, clearly realising his faux-pas. Daphne took a deep breath, regaining most of her usual composure.
"Nott asked me to go see Draco's new place," she said, her voice flat. "I-I went to have a chat with him."
My heart dropped. "That same night?"
"Yes," she whispered.
I shook my head quickly, like trying to clear wrackspurts. "Wait, did you say his place in France?" I asked Blaise.
"Look, I'm gonna go," he said, hastily zipping his jacket. "I really just wanted to thank you, Astoria. Keep in touch, yeah?"
I glowered at Daphne further until she finally cracked.
"I didn't know what else to do, Tori. I know he still cared about you. He still loves you, and so I just… I thought…"
"Daphne, if you don't tell me right fucking now what happened, I'm going to raid mother's veritaserum stores," I warned, lifting my wand threateningly.
"They cut me off too," she swallowed. "They must have guessed I'd try to help."
My arm quivered. "That's okay," I lied. "I don't need the fancy treatments. It's okay, Daph, we'll work something out."
"You're getting the treatment," she said forcefully.
"Even with a decent pay raise, the Quibbler doesn't pay that much." I tried to laugh, but the sound caught in my throat.
"Tori… I asked Draco to help out." I couldn't speak. "I said we had the appointment with Laurens coming up and he, he got really upset, and he wanted to do everything he could to help, so…"
"No," I whispered. "Tell me you're lying. Tell me you're lying right now."
My arm dropped. Heat flooded through me in absolute embarrassment, mortification. Guilt — because I'd broken his heart. I'd ended it with no explanation, and still he'd go so far as to do this for me. I didn't deserve that. And fuck Daphne for asking.
"How could you?" I clenched my teeth. Tears welled in my eyes. "How could you do that to me?"
"Because I want you to live!" she cried. "I didn't know what else to do!"
"Why would you?" I demanded. "And why the fuck would he?"
"I can't believe you even need to ask," Daphne whispered.
Adrenaline coursed through me. I grabbed my bag.
"Where are you going?" she asked shakily.
"To see Shacklebolt." I stormed through the house. "And he's going to listen."
Nerves eroded my confidence as I waited outside Shacklebolt's office. His assistant had been surprised by my arrival, but I'd insisted I had an appointment. I hadn't been shoo'd away yet, so I'd done something right. The maroon and golden walls seemed to shrink in around me, growing smaller and smaller until I couldn't breathe. I thought of Draco, and what he'd done for me. It kept me from fleeing the place without a backwards glance in cowardice.
"Miss Greengrass?" I swallowed, glancing up to Kingsley Shacklebolt's face. "Please come in."
His office was nearly as big as the entire first floor of my house. Walnut and chestnut furniture had been stained and polished to perfection, while deep purple velvets were prominent in the seating and curtains.
"I didn't realise we had an appointment," Kingsley said.
His tone was polite, but assertive. I tried to channel that myself.
"A rather spontaneous one, I'm afraid."
"I see." He rested one hand beneath his chin. "I assume this is pertaining to your article in the Quibbler today?"
Oh shit. "You-you read it?" I asked.
"Certainly. I thought it was intelligently written and thought provoking. One of the fairer criticisms I've received in my time."
I thought I saw him smile. "Well, you're right. It is why I'm here." I swallowed. "I stated my case in the article. I really fail to see the proof that Draco Malfoy, or his parents, are deserving of prosecution."
"Just because the auror office does not publicise their proof, Miss Greengrass, does not mean it is non-existent."
"You've seen it, then?" I pushed. "The proof?"
"It will be provided at the trial."
I thought for a moment. "What happened to innocent until proven guilty? Surely it should have been provided before imprisonment?"
He considered for a moment. "Have you considered working for the ministry?"
"At one time," I admitted. "But given Marcus Tatter's dismissal and subsequent rumours, I don't see it being likely."
"Marcus Tatter's reputation precedes him," Kingsley said. But it wasn't with admiration — rather disdain. "Anybody claiming to believe a word he says is either too afraid to say otherwise, or just as evil as him."
"Really?" This surprised me.
Kingsley eyed me for a moment. "Do you wish to press charges against him, Miss Greengrass?"
I bit my lip. "I may already have to appear in court, after… another incident. I don't want it to become a pattern."
"A pattern of fighting for justice? Surely that is what you are doing right now, sat here in my office? Why would you not want that?"
Kingsley had a way of saying these things, that could completely change somebody's outlook. It wasn't hard to see why he was Minister.
"You're right," I decided. "I do want that."
"Good." Somebody knocked at his door — perhaps his assistant, trying to save him — but he ignored it completely. "In that case, I will make you a deal. I'll have my aurors look deeper into Marcus's misdemeanours. And I'll have Dawlish bring Draco Malfoy's trial to tomorrow. That gives him no time to dig for evidence not already present. How does that sound?"
"Fair," I decided. Then, "what about Draco's parents?"
"They were released yesterday. They weren't actually present at the protest, and so they had no grounds on which to be imprisoned." He raised his eyebrows. "Perhaps you could slip such ministry achievements into your next article."
I had the grace to blush. But I'd done it. I'd really done it.
"And one more thing," he said. "Given your mission for justice…"
