The fire crackled, cheerful and hot, and the subtle scent of Mr Lloyd-Elliot's cologne teased the tip of Harry's nose.
Minister Fudge and Umbridge left noisily.
"Well, I never…" Fudge was muttering as his voice moved away from where Harry stood.
Umbridge simpered. "You're quite right, of course, Minister."
"You saw me," Fudge continued. "I gave him a chance."
"Very noble of you, Cornelius. Most politicians would not have been so gracious."
"Probably that Albus putting ideas into the poor boy's head."
"Terribly improper."
The door swung open to let the chaotic clamour of the Great Hall, along with a gust of toast-scented air, to drift into the room.
"We've tried, Minister," Umbridge's assured her boss, simpering in a way that just riled Harry up all the more. "There isn't any more we can do."
Their footsteps disappeared and the door swung shut again, cutting the breakfast clamour off abruptly, along with the unwelcome sound of the politician's voices.
Harry let out a long hiss of air between his clenched teeth.
"They're really gone?"
He knew for a fact that Mr Lloyd-Elliot's self-control was far too good for him to raise his eyebrows in curiosity or fascination, so it was with a sense of surprise that Harry heard the tone of schadenfreude in the lawyer's voice. "Indeed they have, Mr Potter."
"I'm glad you arrived just now, sir. Thank you! Your timing was perfect."
"I am honoured you think so, Mister Potter, although it appears that your Mr Weasley here – it is Mr Weasley, I assume? – did a very fine job without me."
"Oh, thanks awfully," Fred said cheerfully. "If that's all you need me for, Harry? It looks like this chap here knows what he's doing."
"Oh, yeah."
"I'll leave you in his capable hands." Fred strode out, leaving Harry and Mr Lloyd-Elliot standing alone near the centre of the room.
The rug, that Harry knew to be a deep, thick blue thing with purple and green thistles sprawling across it, rustled a little as Harry shuffled his feet. He reached out a hand to greet the lawyer properly; the half-extended hand had barely twitched up from his side when Harry realised they'd technically done the greeting already. He let his hand drop, his long robe cuffs falling down to cover his knuckles.
"Good morning, Mr Potter," the older wizard's baritone pronounced, kindly eliminating the growing awkwardness. "We have a lot to be talking about."
He didn't know the half of it.
There was a sense of hopeless resignation that washed over Harry's body like a wave, and he felt the sigh pass through his whole torso with a heady rush.
"Boy, do we ever. I didn't realise Minister Fudge had sent you an owl, sir. That doesn't sound like the kind of thing he'd so." He added darkly. "Umbridge even less."
"Indeed," Mr Lloyd-Elliot agreed, that same strange emotion threading through his voice.
"Er…wait. They didn't?"
"Minister Fudge is happy to bend the rules when it works in his favour, Mr Potter."
Harry felt a whirlwind of memory. The blow-up of Aunt Marge. That bloody trial and its kangaroo court.
"True enough. Ah…you don't like them either, sir?"
The lawyer startled. "What makes you think that, Mr Potter? I would be at pains to point out that have I maintain professional working relationships with all the good employees of the Ministry."
Harry shrugged. "Something in the sound of your voice? I'm getting a bit better at telling these things now that I'm blind, I reckon. Er…would I be right then, sir? That you're not their biggest fans, I mean? I won't tell anyone."
There was a pregnant pause. "The good minister and his Undersecretary have often found themselves on the opposite side of the courtroom to my humble self."
"I understand." Harry nodded. "Say no more."
"You seem to—"
"I'd rather talk about what brought you here," Harry continued, taking a single step towards where there would be a chair in the room, going by where Fudge had been sitting. Then he stopped, because while he would normally not hold the man's presence against a chair, of all things, now was not the moment. He needed all the emotional distance from the politician that he could get.
He froze in the movement, before turned back to face the lawyer straight on.
"If you don't mind. I'm rather short on… 'time' isn't quite the right word, but I'd like to start making moves straight away. Some kind of public statement to the press, some kind of compensation from the organisers of the Tournament – I don't know if that includes Dum—Headmaster Dumbledore, but I want all the due processes followed."
"I would be happy to assist. I am obliged to inform you that my usual rates will apply."
"Of course." Harry waved the cost away. "I…actually…the 'good' minister has just reminded me of something, now I think about it."
He raised his right hand to bite at the edge of his thumb, brows furrowed. There was something he'd been repressing. Overlooking. Waiting for the right moment.
The small, sharp pain of his teeth against knuckle somehow helped focus his mind.
The memory surfaced, and Harry found himself biting the thumb gradually harder and faster as long-stifled emotion slowly started bubbling.
His neck muscles got tight. His shoulders stiffened. Suddenly the fire seemed too hot and his face seemed dry and there was a tension headache threatening to develop.
Harry's thoughts were interrupted with astonishment when he tasted a tang of blood on the tip of his tongue, and he realised he'd broken the skin with his teeth. It only served to fan his anger. More of the burning-red frustration that he had been pushing away for years suddenly flared and Harry's mouth ran away from him.
"Is there some way of starting up a proper investigation into the Tournament? Not just the legal stuff for me, but getting the Aurors involved too? I know they seem to stay out of Hogwarts – is there legislation about that, or is this the Dumbledore reputation thing? – but I want the full works, if it's possible. Never mind the status quo, I want everything checked out, if we can get it. This school hasn't actually felt very safe since I started here, and I won't always be here to be the fall guy."
The Philosopher's Stone. Cursed Bludgers and all. The Diary. The Basilisk. The Horcuxes and other Dark artifacts. The Dementors, maybe. Binns, and some of the other terrible teaching he'd seen happen. His mind jumped to some of the things he'd encountered and survived in his timelines; he'd taken them for granted for years, but…
Other kids had suffered from them too, never mind the Voldemort influence that Harry was hoping to fix himself.
Bloody Umbridge and her quill. The Carrows. The weird collapse of the corridor two years ago, and the sinking stairs and all that got him. The bullying that Harry had somehow influenced to improve this time around, but it was still there, if less than before; aside from him, Luna was still isolated, and Slytherin was still both judgemental and outcast…
Teacher bias. Snape's marking. Filch.
"…there's still that ruddy Defense Curse. Why hasn't that been fixed yet? I want an investigation into the whole lot, if you can spring it." The words came out louder than he'd expected. "I'll pay."
A strong pulse throbbed in his temple. Harry forced the headache back.
He thought back to that moment in the Hospital Wing, back in first year. He wanted Neville safe, he'd said. Neville shouldn't have to support Harry to worry about providing 'emergency first aid', or walking to the greenhouse safely, or dodgy brooms. Collin shouldn't need to worry about older students cursing him for being muggle-born. Hermione should never have been so isolated back in first year, the first time, just for loving to learn. Or in danger from the troll. Ginny should never have been possessed.
Little Benny shouldn't have been at risk at that Quidditch game: were there no safety features on those ruddy quidditch stands? He never even let himself have the thought before.
He'd ignored the matter for so long, pushed the guilt and fury away, but now that Harry had a lawyer – right here, right now, in front of him – the words surged out like an unstoppable tide.
"I want a whole – what's the word? – inquest. Safety at Hogwarts. Who entered me into the Tournament: that can be the starting point. Investigate the teaching practices, investigate the wards. Check out the…I've forgotten the—whatever you call the original rules that Hogwarts culture is based on. Charter."
He was somehow relieved beyond belief that Mr Lloyd-Elliot was just standing there and listening to him. No judgement or interruptions. The thought stopped him from pacing up and down the room.
"I'll be the first to admit that the lack of rules and supervision and whatnot have worked for me, but I'm hardly your average child, I reckon. I can cast the Patronus. I know the shield charm. I can take it when teachers are unfair or bullies because I'm used to that kind of behaviour from adults. I cope. But there are kids here," Harry's voice cracked embarrassingly. "These kids…there are first years, who trust this school to be safe. And it's not. It's only that fact that I got involved first has kept some of them safe."
He stopped suddenly, and realised that his fists were clenched and he was breathing heavily. Harry took a moment to force his shoulders to relax, slowing his heart rate. He realised he was almost shouting, and felt a flush of embarrassment rise in his face.
He paused, held his breath, exhaled.
Then he added in a quieter tone, "Oh, and you should probably see if you can make this tournament a little fairer for all the entrants too. We both know that the foreign teachers are going to help Fleur and Krum out in advance of the tasks, but that's not fair to Cedric."
The lawyer paused for only a moment before speaking in a very calm voice. "We can certainly address these issues at our meeting."
"…Thanks."
"I will admit when I prepared for this meeting that I expected some of your suggestions," the familiar voice spoke in a metred rhythm, and Harry let the slow pace calm his heartrate slowly. "Of course, now it seems that our meeting will be even more details than I had anticipated. We shall need to brainstorm together." Mr Lloyd-Elliot continued after a moment's thought. "I understand that you will need all your senses in order to face whatever is coming toward you in the First Challenge, if the situation continues so far. Perhaps I could accompany you out of the castle to allow you to practice your vision?"
Harry half-smiled. Always facing challenges unprepared, that was the story of his life.
"Oh, thanks. That'd be great."
"Perhaps that little coffee house in Hogsmeade? I must confess a weakness for the beverage. I would be happy to side-apparate you from the Hogwarts gate, just out of the wards, if you are amenable?"
Xxx
It took longer than Harry had expected for Mr Lloyd-Elliot to get McGonagall's permission to take Harry off school grounds, and while the lawyer did so, Harry had to ask Neville to run up to collect Crookshanks so the poor kneazle wouldn't worry about him out, about and unsupervised.
"Crow's still on-wing, you see, after last night," Harry explained, and Neville – the dear lad – agreed immediately.
W his lawyer talked to the professor and Neville jogged up the stairs, Harry had time to hang around and chat to more of the students in the Great Hall. He stole a piece of dry toast and munched on it while he waited.
He wasn't the only one.
Many were still eating: Harry tended to come down for breakfast a tad earlier than most of Gryffindor, and it was Ginny's voice that caught his attention while he hovered uselessly around George and Lee, who were enthralled in Fred's retelling of the morning. He'd been there himself, after all, even if the story had grown with the telling.
"—if you tell him, Imogen, I will personally hunt you down and murder you."
A girl seemed to giggle. There were a couple more amused sniggers that seemed to follow, from near where Ginny's voice was, on Harry's side of the table.
"The bat-bogey hex is nothing like what I'm really capable of, you dork. Don't push me!"
"Ha!" This time it was a boy's voice. Not Colin's, but Harry new the tone. A close friend of Colin's, maybe? Merlin, Ginny and Colin were classmates! The realisation somehow weirded him out. "Gin, with all due respect, you need all the help you can get."
The was a small fuss as Harry assumed the youngest Weasley had pushed someone's shoulder and people rattled about on the long, breakfast benches and elbows were flailed accordingly.
"Lies!" Harry could just imagine Ginny's frown over cheerful, dancing brown eyes. "I'm dead-serious here, Angus. Imogen. I'm watching you."
Snorts of laughter.
"If you let him find out – 'accidentally' speak a little too loud, drop hints, giggle when I talk to him – I will chase you down no matter where you hide and eviscerate you before I kill myself."
Harry raised an eyebrow. Normal Hogwarts drama, he realised with mild surprise, and the realisation that he was already making a difference, his coming back had changed things, made him proud and nostalgic and pleased all at once.
Of course, Harry wasn't quite part of that world anymore, was he? If he ever had been. Did normal students only worry about this kind of stuff? There was the sudden impression of a gaping chasm in his mind. The world seemed to rush past his ears.
"But Ginny," the girl – Imogen's – voice whined cheerfully. "We all know you're never going to do anything about it yourself."
"I don't need your help!" Ginny snarked back. "Circe, but you'll ruin all my chances. Have you any idea how awkward you make things when you're there?"
More laughter. "But he hasn't noticed yet, has he?"
"I don't want him to notice yet! I'm perfectly happy being friends with him!"
The boy spoke again. "For now."
"Well, yes, for n—what are you making me say!?"
Harry swallowed the last of his toast and made sure his face was pointing some other direction, not towards the spot where Ginny and her friends sat.
For an awkward moment, Harry wondered if Ginny was talking about him. She'd always admired him, he knew, well before they'd even met. It wasn't like he'd never wondered about it, if they could get back together in this timeline, if he could regain that relationship with her…
But Ginny was so young now. More than a year younger. More than eight years younger really. She was naïve, after all, and still probably believed the world was a safe place. She wouldn't know how to cope with a guy who lived a life like him.
She'd never been possessed this time round, and Harry realised all of a sudden that that would make a difference.
Still. The sudden hopeful burning in his chest couldn't be entirely extinguished. She was still Ginny, after all. Headstrong, loyal, brave and fierce, as funny as all hell…
Then Harry realised that Ginny had dated a number of boys before she'd ended up with him. Maybe she liked Dean again. Or…Michael Corner, wasn't it? And those were the only ones in Harry's year. There'd been that blond chap from Hufflepuff as well, Harry recalled.
It might not be Harry.
It was far too early for all that, anyway. He could never be with a thirteen-year-old, never mind anything else.
Harry took the opportunity to drift away from the Gryffindor table, where Ginny was still cheerfully unaware of his unwitting eavesdropping.
He ran his fingers along the huge stone walls, down the length of the long table, and occasionally accepted the well-wishes from House-mates and a few sgtragglers who were running late for breakfast. Eventually the air chainged, and the slip of cooler air chilling his ankles told him that the door was near. There he paused.
He remembered to stay within eyeshot of Mr Lloyd-Elliot, and that Neville would be rushing back to him about now with a slightly grumpy Crookshanks too, who would be even less pleased that his sleep was disturbed if Harry made himself difficult to find.
And that was why the angry voice of Ron Weasley, drifting in through the open door to the Entrance Hall, caught his attention.
"—you should bugger off yourself then, you stuck up arsehole!"
Harry wouldn't mistake that voice in his sleep. He paused, ears alert, to see if he needed to step in. He and Ron weren't as close as they had been last timeline, weren't as close as they had been in first-year this time aroudn, even, but Harry still considered the boy an important friend.
Even if Ron would be upset at Harry for 'protecting' him in a fight.
There was another voice that responded to Ron. Older, deeper, and Harry couldn't place it even though he thought he was pretty familiar with the student body after all this time. It was definitely an English accent though, so he could eliminate the foreign visitors. The voice was also angry, but more controlled. It wasn't shouting but the words were bitten short instead. "I'm simply saying that there's no evidence either way yet. You should hold on a bit before you go claiming the moral high-ground, that's all. Things could come back to bite you, is what I'm saying."
"Whether or not I'll be embarrassed is none of your business!" Ron was still furious, and still roaring. "But never mind what'll happen in the future, because you've just proved yourself a wanker either way."
"Look Weasley, there's been all kinds of noise about 'investigations' and 'inquests', but do you see any aurors around here?"
"That doesn't prove anything!" Ron's voice when he was angry was certainly inherited from his mother, Harry mused. "Harry didn't put his name in the Goblet of Fire, you absolute gnome-head, and the fact that you're entertaining the idea simply shows you're a biased fool."
"People always say he doesn't like his fame, but have you seen those interviews from Germany—"
"Harry's determination to clear his godfather's name has nothing to do with—!"
"I'm just saying that nobody's proven anything yet, so you can't say for sure—!"
"He's ruddy fourteen and made it totally clear the whole idea is a death trap and is busy trying to study without wasting his time!"
Firstly, Harry decided that he probably didn't need to step in and protect Ron from argument. Or from this argument in particular. Secondly, Harry felt his eyelids burning – just a little – under the warmth and humidity of his blindfold.
He missed Ron. His Ron: clever and stubborn and loyal and brave to a fault. He'd known he'd given that all up, those first few months back in first-year and those adorable little first-years had followed his lead no matter where he went, and studied with him in the library, and adorably, regretfully, assumed that Harry always knew what he was talking about.
It wasn't the same.
But this Ron: he was wonderful too. More independent, Harry realised. Less stressed, so he could share his big heart and generosity with more people.
More distant from Harry, maybe, in exchange. But Ron'd be happy this way, Harry nodded to himself even as he discovered an odd, painful lump that was stuck in his throat. He'd finish up his Hogwarts education, he'd learn more things – maybe keep on creating and inventing things like the audio-quill. He'd never be stuck in Harry's shadow again, and maybe things would be easier for him because of it.
They'd never be best friends. The realisation dawned like frost forming, and Harry worried at his lip sudden, hollow pang of loss. But Ron was a great guy. A boy for now, maybe, but soon he'd be a great man. Righteous, fair, respected.
Harry felt that gravity spun, somehow. He wasn't sure how. He was clearly standing firmly on the ground: his two feet planted on the stone and his hand still on the wall. But somehow the world twisted around him.
The argument kept going on, but the older boy was losing ground, because Ron was using all of his arsenal to tear the guy apart. Logic, experience, emotion…
Harry, finding his way back to his body, was impressed by Ron's prowess, and it helped distract him from the dizziness.
Then the argument cut off, leaving Harry suddenly, desperately curious…Had someone drawn a wand?
But it was only Neville, as the sound of his voice grew louder as he apparently approached.
"—no need to argue about it with this idiot, Ron," Harry heard Neville say. "It'll all come out soon enough, and he'll realise he was wrong."
"Nev, if you'd heard what he was saying…"
"But you never win if you argue with idiots," Neville pointed out. "They just drag you down to their level. Shepherd, wasn't it? I get that some in Hufflepuff are a little on edge right now, but if you'd paid attention in the Great Hall, Harry's lawyer has already arrived and I dare say the aurors will be on their way shortly if Mr Lloyd-Elliot has anything to say about it."
Somebody Shepherd from Hufflepuff muttered something angrily, too low for Harry to hear.
Ron snorted.
Neville spoke again. "Yes, well…I might be a favourite of Professor Sprout, but she certainly wouldn't be impressed by how you're behaving now, would she?"
More muttering.
Neville, who apparently hadn't stopped walking through out this whole conversation, spoke again. He must have been coming down the marble staircase earlier, which certainly would have given him the high ground to help him in the argument. "You'll soon find out, won't you? I'm assuming you're one of the students who put their name in the Cup? No need to let your frustrations out of Harry. Or maybe you just need to go away and study if the N.E. are getting to you. Now, if you'll excuse me."
Harry stepped away from the doors thoughtfully.
Not only had Ginny and Ron changed this timeline, but so too had Neville. There weren't bad changes, he convinced himself as finally he could even hear the footsteps of Neville coming through the doors.
"Harry!" his friend exclaimed in surprise as Neville rounded the door into the Great Hall and almost walked into Harry's suddenly awkward form. "Blimey, you surprised me. I've brought Crookshanks. He's not thrilled you've found yourself in more trouble this morning already."
Harry startled as a warm body of fur snaked about his legs. "You mean…The minister? Or Ron's fight?"
"Heard that, did you? Probably both, knowing your cat. Stay out of trouble where you can, yeah? But I can't really stay and chat – I've got breakfast to finish, and here comes your lawyer now. Let me know how the meeting goes, won't you? And if I or Gran can help, just say the word."
Harry's chest felt warm, and the odd emotional dizziness kept Harry distracted even as Crookshanks grumpily sat himself down on Harry's left foot.
"Thanks, Nev. You're the best."