A/N: Content warning: self harm
Chapter 26: Anger And Pain
To say that Ginny Weasley was angry, would be akin to saying water is a wee bit wet. And try as she might – though in truth, she did not try very hard (because she was so angry) – she could not help blaming Hermione. Hermione herself was only dimly aware of that fact, so mired was she in her own misery; she blamed herself as well.
They sat, along with Ron, Mr and Mrs Weasley, Professor McGonagall and a stooped over Hagrid at the Weasley Kitchen table. Percy stood in the doorway, keeping on the far side of the table from Ginny and Ron.
"Arthur, I think the time for following proper channels has long passed." Molly Weasley looked sadly at her husband, who had suggested lodging a complaint with the MLE and asking the Aurors to help retrieve Harry. As creative a thinker he was when it came to his wild collection of Muggle artifacts, he tended to be more rule-bound where the Ministry was concerned. She supposed working there all those years had done that to him, though nowhere nearly as much as it had affected Percy.
"Here, here," agreed McGonagall. "We need to get that boy back, now."
"But how're we gon' ter do tha', Professor?" Hagrid was twisting and wringing a large polkadot hanky.
"Erm," Percy nervously cleared his throat.
"What do you want, troll?" spat Ron.
"What about a Portkey?"
"Oh, that's just brilliant, Perce. Why didn't we think of that?"
"Now, Ginny, Percy is only trying to help." Molly covered her daughter's hand with her own and gave it a gentle squeeze.
"No, Mum! I'm sorry, but he's 'helped' enough."
"Why is he even here?" Ron groused.
"Look, I know I made a mistake –" Percy began.
"A mistake!" yelled Ginny, "Leaving the lid off the floo powder jar is a mistake. You bolluxed up Harry's life!"
"I know. I'm so, so sorry," Percy looked to his parents. "I think I can help. I want to help."
Molly held up her hand to forestal her youngest two's imminent protest, "Shush, children. I want to
hear what Percy has to say.
"Oh, Mum, please. It doesn't matter what he has to say – you can't trust him!"
"Ginevra, that is quite enough," rebuked her mother. She noted that both Ron and Ginny were each turning the beet red of an enraged Weasley, but a meaningful look kept them quite.
"I could try to see Harry. The Minister, well, he, erm –"
Ron wasn't able to stay silent for very long, "What? He owes you a favour? Because you helped him kidnap Harry?"
Hermione spoke for the first time since the impromptu meeting began, "I know you don't want to hear it, but Ron, Percy might be our best chance. If he could get close to Harry and Portkey with him back here –"
"What's to stop him from spilling our plans to the Minister and having us all arrested?"
"Ron!" his father sounded scandalized.
Ginny erupted. "Dad, Mum, you're just not seeing how it is! Percy's a lying, arse-kissin –"
Molly slammed her teacup down, sloshing some of the steaming liquid over her hand. She ignored it."That is enough, young lady!"
Professor McGonagall cleared her throat politely, "I don't mean to intrude on a family... discussion, but I feel it prudent to refocus our energies on getting Harry back."
Hagrid nodded in uncomfortable agreement, and it was Mrs Weasley's turn to blush.
"Quite right, Minerva," offered Mr Weasley by way of apology. Turning to Percy, he asked solemnly, "Percy, how would you get Minister Scrimgeour to invite you into his private residence?"
"Well, uh. I hadn't thought that far ahead yet."
Before either Ron or Ginny could have another go at Percy, Hermione shared an idea, "You could offer to bring Harry's things to him."
"It's a good thought, Ms Granger, but I don't know that Scrimgeour would concern himself enough about Harry's comfort to allow that."
Hermione looked chagrined, despite the Headmistress' gentle tone. She added, "Maybe if Percy offered to help take care of Harry...?" Hermione trailed off, underwhelmed by her own idea and wishing she'd not said it aloud.
"Possibly," Professor McGonagall continued, "I'll wager he might be willing to see Percy if the lad agreed to give testimony against us."
"How do we know he won't turn around and do exactly that?" Ron's tone was a tad more respectful towards his Professor than it had been towards his parents, but none the less, it was clear he was seething.
"I wouldn't," promised Percy. "I swear it."
"I think the Headmistress is right. Minister Scrimgeour would jump at the chance to have a corroborating witness who could sway the court towards appointing him Harry's new guardian." Warming to the plan, Hermione added, "You could tell him you know what to ask Harry to show he would be better off with the Minister."
"No, Hermione. Don't you understand? All of you," Ron's gesture encompassed everyone present, "You know Percy would do anything to move up in the Ministry."
Percy, himself, was the first to respond, "Uh, I'd like to say something."
"And I'd like you to jump. Off. A. Broom," Ginny ground out in a low voice. This earned her a sharp look from her mother.
"What I wanted to say was, Ron's right. At least, you were," he said to his little brother. "I was ambitious to the point of being wrongheaded and selfish. But when I saw – I mean, what Minister Scrimgeour did to Harry was unconscionable. And I've no right to expect you to believe me, but I really do want to help get Harry back."
"I don't believe you," growled Ron.
"Neither do I ," Ginny added.
"Enough, children!" Again, Mrs Weasley's teacup hit the table, this time with enough force to break it.
Mr Weasley cast a softly worded, "Reparo," and the cup reassembled itself. Molly smiled appreciatively at her husband and cast a cleaning charm on the spilt tea. Arthur turned to his son, "We've not a lot of options. Percy, we're counting on you. Can you do this?
"But Dad-"
"Dad, No!"
Quiet, you two. Your mother said 'Enough', and she meant it."
Arthur Weasley sighed inwardly. He'd had such hopes for Percy, but his son's ambitions and the way he went about achieving his goals had left Mr Weasley sad and disappointed. He so wanted Percy to make amends, but he was concerned that his desire might be clouding his judgement. In the end, Percy was a Weasley after all, and it was decided that they would go ahead with the plan. The only way to get the youngest two Weasleys and a skeptical Minerva McGonnagall to agree, was for Percy to take a carefully worded Wizard's Oath not to reveal the details of their plans to anyone outside of the group currently gathered.
~o~
Harry sat in a bed that wasn't his bed in a room that wasn't his room. Now that he had had time to calm down and think, he realized that if he stayed in this strange place, all his friends were safe from him accidentally talking about the secret magic. It would, Harry felt, be easier to not talk at all around strangers. That way, no one would be in danger of getting sent to the bad place that Lily had told him about. And he would work very hard while he was away from home to get out all the bad blood that was – he now knew – running through his whole body. As he got up from the unfamiliar bed and began to look for something to scrape open his skin with, he wondered why Lily hadn't known about that – since she knew so much about secret magic. There was not much to choose from. A small dresser yielded only clothes. Harry couldn't get the drawers to come all the way out and the drawer pulls were smooth wooden knobs. And that was it. Aside from the bed and what looked like a chamber pot, there was nothing else in the small room. Dejected, Harry slumped to the floor, leaning his shoulder and head against the useless dresser.
He absently rubbed his finger on one of the dresser knobs. Harry wished he had his Draco sleeve with him. As he tried to think of what to do next, the knob turned under Harry's finger. Surprised, he tried twisting it some more and it became loose. Harry got up on his knees, balancing himself against the dresser with one hand and twisting and pulling the knob with the other. It came off! Elated, Harry examined the back of the knob closely. No! It was as smooth on the flat back as it was on the rounded front, and the edge wasn't in the least bit sharp.
Harry slid to the ground in utter defeat, allowing his hand to trail down the face of the dresser. Something sharp caught on him, and Harry reflexively drew his hand to his mouth. His fingers were salty. Almost afraid to look, Harry slowly pulled his fingers out of his mouth and held them up for inspection. They stung, and there was a pink scratch across two of his fingers. He got back up on his knees to look at the spot where the drawer pull had been. There was a pointy metal stick with what looked like tiny stripes poking out. Harry placed his hand back against the drawer front just above the stick. then he pressed as hard as he could against the wood and slid his hand down over it. He cried out at the pain and pulled his hand away. Then he stilled. This was what he needed to do, but he was afraid of the pain. Never the less, Harry mustered his courage and dragged his hand down over the stick again and again.
He was crying softly at the pain, but Harry reminded himself that it meant blood was coming out. He wondered, with the sharp stick being so little, how long it would take to get all his bad blood out. How would he be able to tell when it was all out? And how long was he to stay in this room? He felt an urgency then, and redoubled his efforts, pressing and scraping his fingers, palm, wrist and the back of his hand and he even pushed up his sleeve to scrape his forearm over the metal again and again. His eyes closed tight and teeth clenched against crying aloud. He was so completely focussed on his task, he did not hear the door click open.
"What the – ? STOP!"
Harry yelped in surprise and fell on his backside. No! It was the Healer from before. Harry scrambled to his feet and hid his bloodied arm behind his back.
"Mr Potter! What are you doing?"
"Nu-nuffing."
Healer Biobaku narrowed his eyes. "Show me your hand," he demanded.
Harry knew he was supposed to mind his elders, but he just couldn't this time. So he shook his head and pressed his lips together, despairing that he was getting more bad by the moment.
One look at Harry and Biobaku knew he was in unfamiliar territory. This boy needed a Mind Healer. "Scully," he called out and the house elf cracked into existence just behind the Healer, startling both him and Harry.
"Scully is at the Healer's service," the little creature croaked.
"Tell your master he is needed here at once."
"Scully will," and he disappeared as loudly and as quickly as he had arrived.
"Come here, Mr Potter," ordered the Healer. But Harry just shook his head again and sucked on his lower lip. Before Biobaku had the chance to do or say anything else, he heard the roar of one very irate sounding Rufus Scrimgeour.
"This had better be important, Biobaku."
The Healer winced at the Minister's deliberate omission of his title. "Yes, Minister. It is," he gestured to Harry as Scrimgeour entered the room.
"What is the meaning of this? What is Potter hiding?"
"Minister Scrimgeour, Mr Potter is attempting to undo the Healing I've done on his hands.
"Merlin's teeth, man! Why would he do that?"
"That is precisely the problem," Biobaku had regained some of his equilibrium, and was able to make good use of his training and experience. "The boy needs a Mind Healer. I am, in no uncertain terms, unqualified to help Mr Potter. You must take him to St. Mungo's." Biobaku held his breath unconsciously, waiting for Scrimgeour's explosive temper to erupt, but surprisingly, it did not.
In fact, a crooked and slightly unnerving smile stole across his face, and he practically purred, "All the more reason that Hogwarts Nurse will be deemed unfit as Potter's guardian. Very well. Take him, I will be along shortly – and see to it he gets a private and secure room, Healer Biobaku."
Harry wasn't exactly sure what the two wizards had been talking about, other than that they meant to take him to St. Mungo's. "Dat where Pomfee is," he said to the men. "My wan' stay here, pease." Harry couldn't risk being near his beloved caregiver yet.
Scrimgeour's smile grew and he arched an eyebrow. "Excellent! And you, Healer Biobaku, are now a Penseivable witness. He'd rather stay with me than return to the poor care of Madam Pomfrey. Just splendid!" he clapped his hands together, quite satisfied with this turn of events. "Take him, now," he charged Biobaku, and almost as an afterthought, he addressed Harry, "Don't worry, Mr Potter. You're to have zero contact with Madam Pomfrey. I've already started the scrollwork for an injunction against her." With that, Rufus Scrimgeour left Baako Biobaku and a bewildered Harry Potter to proceed to the wizard's hospital.
"Come along, Mr Potter. You heard the Minister."
Harry shook his head again. "Pease, sir, you go a' Mungo's, my stay in dis room."
"I'm sorry, Mr Potter. Please cooperate, or you will force my hand."
Harry looked quizzically at the Healer's hand, but made no move to join him.
Biobaku shook his head sadly and let out a great sigh, before drawing out his wand. "Very well, Mr Potter. Mobilus Corpus," he chanted, aiming his wand at Harry. This caused Harry to levitate and bob slowly forward, ahead of the Healer and out the door.
Harry's eyes widened in surprise an delight. He was so enjoying his flight, he forgot about their destination, until they reached a large, ornate fireplace. Harry tried to backpedal and looked for something to grab onto to stop his progress towards the hearthside.
Scully appeared holding a gold filigreed jar with an emerald encrusted top. He lifted the lid and held the jar up for the Healer. Biobaku pulled Harry close and wrapped an arm around his waist. With his other hand, he grabbed a large fistful of floo powder and threw it into the grate, shouting, "St. Mungos, 4th floor!" The flames turned bright green, a colour that unnerved Harry as he was pulled into the spinning floo network.