Chapter Six: Veritas Tales

12 Grimmauld Place, Islington, London

August 4th, 1997

As the blinding white light vanished and Ron could think clearly again, the first two things he felt – after witnessing the latest 'might have been,' thanks to the Mirror of Infinite Possibilities – were hope and fear.

Fear, because one of his worst nightmares involved losing Harry and Hermione, one way or another. Whether that was because one or both of them died, or because they came to realize they fit together that way and there was no place in their relationship for him anymore, or because of something else... it didn't matter. All he knew was that it was bloody terrifying, having to face losing the people you loved –

Speaking of losing people... it had been completely awful hearing that in another world, his dad had been killed by You-Know-Who's snake. And that an evil version of Harry had probably laughed, instead of trying to save the man's life!

{ Not to mention, I'd almost forgotten what Kreacher was like up until just a few days ago, } Ron thought to himself, as Harry and Hermione started to blink rapidly. { Guess Hermione had a point when she said that eventually, wizards pay for how they treat house elves... }

And hope, because he now had proof that it was possible Hermione really did like him that way – or that she might come to fancy him one day, under the right circumstances.

"That was – incredible," Hermione semi-whispered, looking stunned. "Evidence of other realities, where history turned out differently – oh, the possibilities are endless! Harry, Ron, I really think we should –"

"No, forget it. That book that Kreacher used, it doesn't exist anymore," Harry said uncomfortably, not meeting any of their eyes. "I remember seeing Moody destroy it that summer, along with a lot of other stuff that couldn't simply be binned. So we can't reach out to Mione's world for help, even if she wanted to help us – and since our Ron never went there, and never befriended her or that other Sirius, she almost certainly wouldn't. You two heard her – that Hermione Granger thought her Harry Potter and her Ron Weasley were useless piles of dung, and if that other me really is an evil killer? Guess I can't blame her..."

"Huh. Makes you wonder what's going on there right now, and how exactly Trelawney's prophecy will work out in that world – if those people will be able to get the evil Harry to do the job he's supposed to do, or else You-Know-Who simply kills him," Ron mused, before visibly shaking his head and dismissing the whole thing. "Well, I dunno about you two, but I'm hungry – I'm heading back to the kitchen, make myself something to eat –"

"Then you may as well take them with you, Weasel," Mirror Draco spoke up, as the Golden Trio turned to stare at him. "The princess and the Pot-head won't be able to use me to see anything without you present, remember?"

"Who says we even want to see anything more?" Harry growled, and Ron could tell that the Mirror's latest display of 'what might have been' had upset his best mate a lot – not that Harry could be blamed for that, of course. "So far, you haven't exactly been much help, have you? Nothing but constant insults and name-calling, plus showing us more-or-less useless glimpses into the past. I'm beginning to think that your reputation is vastly overrated –"

"Funny, Scarhead, but I was just thinking the exact same thing about you," Mirror Draco interrupted, with his usual smirk. "Just as an example, the Harry Potter who would have gotten sorted into Hufflepuff or Slytherin would have been heaps more useful than you, right about now. Or the Pot-head who watched his best mate die. Or the one who helped unmask Crouch junior early. Even the Harry Potter who'd started thinking of shagging the princess, here –"

"Don't you dare complete that sentence!" Hermione immediately shouted, her cheeks starting to flame up in embarrassment. "Harry said it himself, during that vision you showed us with him and Viktor near the Forbidden Forest – we're just friends! That's all!"

"Er, right," Harry hastily agreed, even though he kept his eyes averted from both of his friends when he said that. Something Ron didn't fail to notice –

"Well, come on, then," the ginger said slowly, starting to turn away from the Mirror. "Last one to the kitchen's a rotten egg –"

"Is that what you are, Weasel? And here I thought that was your brother, Percival," Mirror Draco suddenly taunted, the usual smirk reappearing on his face. "Especially after what happened when he and Rufus Scrimgeour came over the Burrow, last year. Broke your mother's heart all over again, didn't he, when she realized the only reason that pillock showed up was for his boss to be able to talk to the Pot-head? Though myself, I don't know why he would even want to bother..."

"Shut up. You don't talk to me about Percy," Ron hissed angrily, unable to help himself.

"Then how about I just show you, instead?"

The Mirror blazed with white light, and yet again, the Golden Trio started to see and hear –


Outside Borgin and Burkes, Knockturn Alley

August 3rd, 1996

The bell over the shop's door tinkled loudly as Draco Malfoy (the real one) stalked out, looking very pleased with himself; which was pretty much his normal state of affairs. The platinum-blond youth passed so close to Harry, Ron, and Hermione (who were all hidden underneath Harry's invisibility cloak) that the trio felt the cloak flutter around their knees. Inside the shop, Mr. Borgin remained frozen; his unctuous smile had vanished; and he definitely looked worried.

"What was that about?" Ron whispered, reeling in the Extendable Ears the Golden Trio had used to eavesdrop on Malfoy's conversation with the shady shopkeeper.

"Dunno," Harry replied, thinking hard. "Malfoy wants something mended... and he wants to reserve something in there... could you see what he pointed at when he said 'that one'?"

"No, the prat was behind that cabinet –" Ron started to say.

"You two stay here," Hermione abruptly whispered.

"What are you-?" Ron wanted to know, looking at his friend in concern.

But Hermione had already ducked out from under the cloak. She checked her hair in the reflection in the glass, but just as she was about to enter the shop, Ron came out from under the cloak as well and grabbed her by the elbow. "Blimey, Hermione, what do you think you're doing?!"

"I'm going to find out what the Ferret was up to in there, now let go of me!" Hermione hissed angrily, looking around to make sure they hadn't been spotted.

"Oh, yes, and how exactly are you going to do that?" Ron demanded, refusing to release her.

"Well, err... I'll just say, um, that... that Draco's a friend of mine, and I want to get him a birthday present, but if he's already reserved anything, I obviously don't want to get him the same thing, so... um..." Hermione trailed off, looking unsure.

"You're a horrible liar," Ron said bluntly, apparently missing the looking of annoyance Hermione immediately sent in his direction. "And don't get me wrong, that's a good thing! But I've heard stuff 'bout that Borgin bloke, Mione – he's a nasty piece of work, and he'll see through your act immediately. I just don't want you to get hurt –"

"Let. Go. Of. Me!" Hermione forcefully tried to break loose of Ron's grip, and underneath the cloak Harry sighed at the way his best mates had decided to bicker like this now of all times...

"What's going on here?"

Harry started in surprise; so distracted had he been by his two friends' antics that he honestly hadn't noticed the red-robed Auror approach. He instantly recognized the newcomer – the very short, wiry gray hair was a dead giveaway, as was Auror Dawlish's tough-looking face...

"Err, nothing!" Hermione gasped, as Ron finally let go of her. "My friend and I were just having a bit of a, um, discussion..."

"Didn't look like it to me," Dawlish growled, coming closer and staring at Ron. "You're one of Arthur Weasley's sons, aren't you? Red hair, blue eyes like his and all..." He turned his attention to Hermione. "And so, that would most likely make you the mudblood that I heard follows Potter and Weasley around everywhere –"

"DON'T call Hermione that!" Roan roared immediately, looking like he was about to go for his wand – before the Granger girl grabbed his elbow in order to stop him doing something foolish.

Dawlish looked unfazed by the emotional display. "Where's Harry Potter, then?" he asked, looking around. "If you two are here, he can't be far away. Disillusionment Charm, perhaps?" The Auror looked around before casting, "Homenum revelio!", the human-presence-revealing spell.

Harry froze, but nothing appeared to happen; the magic of his father's cloak protected him from the effects of the spell. He heaved a sigh of relief, and unfortunately, it was loud enough and Dawlish was close enough that the Auror heard it.

"Mr. Potter, I am ordering you to reveal yourself immediately," Dawlish snapped, looking annoyed. "Otherwise, I'll arrest your two friends at once."

"WHAT? You can't do that!" Hermione demanded indignantly. "I mean, what would you even charge us with? Ron and I haven't done anything wrong!"

"Loitering around Knockturn Alley is enough, these days," Dawlish replied coolly. "Last chance, Potter. Show yourself. Now!"

Harry made a split-second decision, and removed the cloak. He stood in front of the Auror and said simply, "Satisfied?"

For a moment, John Dawlish smirked at the three teens. "An invisibility cloak? Tsk, tsk, that's a Class D non-tradeable material – I'm afraid I'll have to confiscate it."

"You can't do that, that cloak's a family heirloom! You can't seize private property without just cause, that's illegal!" Hermione screeched angrily, her sense of justice offended by such a flagrant abuse of authority.

"Miss Granger, is it? Don't tell me what I can or can't do, I'm the one in charge here," Dawlish told her in annoyance.

"Are you?" Ron spoke up, looking the red-robed wizard directly in the eye. "Quite honestly, I'm a little surprised you'd want to risk your career this way..."

"What are you talking about, boy?" Dawlish sent Harry's best friend another annoyed look.

By that point, Harry had guessed where Ron was hinting at and so answered the question himself. "He's talking about the fact that I'm the so-called Chosen One," he spat out the description with something of a bad taste in his mouth, "and also how you tried to arrest both Dumbledore and Hagrid last year, thanks to Fudge and Umbridge. Now you want to arrest me? You really don't care about your job prospects this time tomorrow if Ron's dad has a word with the Head Auror about your conduct, do you?"

At last, Dawlish dropped the façade of smug pureblood superiority and an ugly, sullen look of dislike appeared on his face. "You three are coming with me to the Ministry right now, my superiors in the DMLE will sort this out."

"But my parents are waiting for us in Fred and George's joke shop –" Ron instinctively protested.

"That's your problem, isn't it?" Dawlish interrupted impatiently. "Now hurry up, all of you – get moving."


The Ministry of Magic Atrium

A short while later

"Mum's gonna kill me for this, I swear," Ron whispered to his two friends, trying to avoid Dawlish's attention. "Two knuts says she completely blames me for everything!"

"You don't have two knuts," Hermione responded primly, "and besides, you're a prefect; you shouldn't be gambling, especially not before the start of our sixth year. I've told you before, Ron – you need to set an example for your peers, and for the lower years!"

"You reckon I'll still be a prefect after this? I mean you're safe, Hermione, McGonagall loves you and wants you to be Head Girl next year! But me? She'll take the badge away and give it to Harry, I'm sure of it!" Ron complained.

"Oi, leave me out of –" Harry started to protest.

"Well, if you would simply make more of an effort academically, and stop wasting time thinking about nothing except chess and Quidditch," Hermione interrupted him acidly, "then maybe, Ronald, you needn't be so afraid of losing your lofty position!"

"Will you two belt up, already?" Dawlish interrupted the argument, just as Ron opened his mouth to fire back a stinging retort. "Because if there's one thing I can't stand, it's young'uns like you having a domestic in public!"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ron abruptly skidded to a halt, the tips of ears starting to turn red. All the others stopped walking as well, even Dawlish.

"Yes, Auror Dawlish, what exactly did you mean by that?" Hermione wanted to know, her cheeks starting to turn pink.

Dawlish frowned, turning to face Harry and the antagonism from earlier seemingly forgotten. "They're pulling my leg, aren't they?"

"Nope," Harry shook his head in sad resignation. "Completely clueless, the both of them."

"Harry, what are you talkin' about?" Ron demanded, his ears turning redder.

Ron's question was destined to remain unanswered, as at that moment – the Golden Trio's friend named Luna Lovegood and her father, Xenophilius, came over to the quartet. Luna seemed her normal self – that is to say, her long, straight, dirty-blond hair and large, misty silvery-gray eyes, plus utterly outlandish clothing (including a butterbeer cap necklace).

"Hullo, Harry! Hullo, Ron! Hullo, Hermione!" the female Ravenclaw greeted her school acquaintances enthusiastically.

"Luna? What are you doing here?" Harry asked in astonishment.

"Ah, she's here with me today, Mr. Potter. I'm Luna's father, Xenophilius Lovegood. Pleasure to finally make your acquaintance," Mr. Lovegood said rapidly, reaching for Harry's right hand and shaking it vigorously. "I say, any chance of a quick interview for The Quibbler? Luna and I have a meeting to acquire an international portkey to visit the magical quarter of Uganda, yes, but there's still plenty of time –"

"I'm afraid not, Mr. Lovegood," Dawlish cut in, looking uncomfortable. "Mr. Potter and his friends already have an appointment with the new head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."

"Pius Thicknesse?" Luna queried, looking at Dawlish with those wide, inquisitive eyes. "He's not a good choice for Department Head, is he? I met him last year, and he had wrackspurts floating all around his head. Nastiest infestation I ever saw!"

"What?" Dawlish now looked confused. "Wrackspurts? What in Merlin's name-?"

"Well... they're invisible magical creatures, you know. They float in through your ears and make your brain go all fuzzy, I'm afraid! In fact, I think I felt one zooming around just now," Xenophilius quickly looked around, before focusing his attention back on Harry's friends. Well, one of them anyway.

"Ah, Ronald Weasley! Haven't seen you in years, lad, you've grown a lot since the last time Pandora, Luna and I came over the hill and visited the Burrow!" Mr. Lovegood clapped Ron on the shoulder.

"Er, thank you, Mr. Lovegood. And, um, sorry about what happened to your wife. Luna's mum," Ron said apologetically.

Harry was about to express the same sentiment, but Luna abruptly leaned forward and peered at the Weasley intensely. "Ron, did you know you could have been born a heliopath?"

"Oh, no, dear girl – I hardly think young Ronald here would have ever become part of Fudge's private army," Mr. Lovegood shook his head at once.

{ What? This again? } Hermione thought to herself, recalling the last time Luna had mentioned that particular imaginary creature. Oddly, this time around, it made her more wryly amused than angry; she must be building up a tolerance...

"And what's a heliopath, exactly?" Dawlish demanded, a bewildered look on his face.

"A spirit of fire which gallops and burns everything in its path," Luna replied serenely, examining Ron carefully and putting on her Spectrespecs. "Oh, yes, I can see it now. It's contained by both the Weasley and Prewett blood, along with the Black and Fawley blood from your other grandparents. Hrmm, but some phoenix and muggleborn blood would have set your inner heliopath free..."

"Sorry, Luna, but I don't have a clue what you're goin' on about," Ron shook his head.

"That's alright, Ron," Luna replied, before indulging in her knack for embarrassing honesty. "You'll figure it out one day. Just like you'll figure out your real feelings for Hermione."

Ron and Hermione started spluttering, Harry grinned, and Dawlish just rolled his eyes in annoyance, Merlin save him from teenagers – before curtly saying goodbye to the journalist and his daughter, and escorting the three teens towards the building's magical elevators. But as luck would have it, Rufus Scrimgeour and his aide – the one and only Percival Weasley – came out of one of the lifts at their normal brisk stride.

"Has Magical Maintenance fixed your office yet? You mentioned before that it was raining in there today," Scrimgeour asked his assistant as they walked.

"Not yet, Minister, I – Ron? What are you doing here?" Percy came to halt upon spying his brother, as did Scrimgeour. As did Dawlish and the Golden Trio.

"None of your business, really, is it, Perce?" Ron replied coldly, and Harry could tell his best mate was still upset with the black sheep of the Weasley family – for turning his back on them all, as well as refusing to believe Voldemort had returned at the end of their fourth year at Hogwarts.

"Harry Potter. I've been meaning to speak with you. And – John Dawlish, isn't it? What's going on, what are you doing here with Potter? And these other two?" Scrimgeour wanted to know, turning to stare at the Auror.

"Taking them to visit Pius Thicknesse, Minister. Or at least the Head Auror, Gawain Robards. Found these three in possession of a Class D non-tradeable item –" Dawlish started to say.

"What, augurey eggs? Niffler body parts?" Percy interrupted, looking concerned.

"No; Harry's invisibility cloak, the one that he inherited from his father. Tell me, Percival – what exactly is the Ministry's stance about a minor being in possession of a family heirloom, one which Auror Dawlish has proclaimed is illegal contraband?" Hermione asked waspishly, moving closer to Harry's side.

"Damn rubbish! Weasley, don't bother answering that. Dawlish, go report to Robards. Potter, you and your friends, come with me to my office – we need to talk. You too, Weasley," Scrimgeour ordered roughly, before turning around on his heel and heading back to the lift.

Looking somewhat bemused, the five people in question automatically obeyed the magical head of government and moved off in different directions.


The Minister's private office, Level 1, Ministry of Magic

A short while later

"Sit down, all three of you," Rufus ordered, the moment the Golden Trio and Percy entered the politician's office. "Weasley, over here beside me."

Like a good minion, Ron's brother came to the Minister's side and awaited his next orders. Scrimgeour ignored Percy though and focused on Harry, saying, "As I said before; we need to talk, boy. You need to tell me everything you know about You-Know-Who, and I do mean everything!"

For a moment, Harry was hesitant. "I don't understand, sir," he said slowly. "Professor Dumbledore told me, the same night we met Professor Slughorn, that he had urgent matters to discuss with you. And I, I assumed that you two had gotten past that 'rift' I read about in the newspaper, a few weeks back –"

"Listen carefully, Potter; never assume anything. That's the first thing Alastor Moody taught all of us who applied to become Aurors during the last war, along with his mantra of 'constant vigilance.' To tell you the truth, I thought he was a complete nutter for it back then, but now? I realize that Moody was absolutely right," Rufus interrupted Harry brusquely. "And to answer your question, Dumbledore hasn't told me much of anything. I suspect the old man either loves keeping secrets to himself, or else he's worried about Death Eater spies. Might even be both. But my private office is completely secure, ran the checks myself; so now that it's just the five of us, I want to know –"

"You trust Percy? After the way he was so deeply involved with Fudge, not to mention Umbitch?" Ron interrupted, shooting a poisonous look towards his older brother – who simply avoided everyone's eyes, somehow finding the wall fascinating to look at.

"Ah, you mean Dolores Umbridge. Nasty witch, yes, can't stand her myself – but the woman's built her career by gathering dirty little secrets on a lot of important and influential people, so it would be political suicide for me to attempt to get rid of her. That's why I simply walled her off as much as I could," Scrimgeour replied. "And as for Weasley, I interrogated him personally with veritaserum before taking him on as my Special Assistant. That's how I know he's no Death Eater or blood supremacist, boy – and what's your name, anyway?" He took in how closely Ron and Hermione were sitting together. "You and your girlfriend, here?"

"I'm Ron Weasley – and, and Hermione's not my girlfriend!" Ron semi-stammered, furiously avoiding the bushy-haired girl's eyes (much to Harry's amusement).

"Hermione Granger, Minister," the official genius of Team Potter introduced herself, in a somewhat strangled tone of voice. "And Ron's not my boyfriend either!"

Just for a moment, Rufus seemed amused. Then he focused his attention back on Harry. "Well, Potter?"

"I, I think I should discuss this with Dumbledore before I say anything, sir," Harry replied cautiously. "I mean, some of what I know isn't my secret to tell..."

Scrimgeour straightened up, suddenly looking like a fearsome old lion with those grey streaks in his mane of tawny hair and bushy eyebrows. "I am the Minister of Magic," he said icily. "I decide what's to be kept secret, and what isn't. Now, are you going to cooperate – or do I need to get Thicknesse in here, to discuss that little matter of prosecuting you for illegal possession of an invisibility cloak?"

The threat hung heavy in the air, until Hermione cleared her throat and said politely, "Minister Scrimgeour, would you and Percy kindly step outside for a few moments, while I attempt to persuade Harry to act in a way that would actually further his best interests?"

Rufus saw how both boys were looking at the muggleborn in shock, and nodded towards Percy. "You have one minute."

Hermione waited until both men had left the office, and then she cast the Imperturbable Charm on the door for privacy. "Alright, listen –"

"Bloody hell, Hermione, what do you think you're doing?!" Ron demanded, his temper on a short fuse. "Getting Harry to cooperate with those two tossers is just –"

"Ronald Bilius Weasley, shut up and listen to me!" Hermione interrupted, almost growling in anger. "We've got to make the best of the current situation, understand? And I'm not proposing that Harry tells the Minister everything; we can't tell him who's a member of the Order of the Phoenix, for example! That's why we need to... negotiate. I mean, the Minister can't send Harry to Azkaban for this, can he?"

"Maybe not, but he can bloody well get Harry expelled, can't he? If Scrimgeour decides to manipulate the school board, by threatening to withhold Hogwarts' funding," Ron interrupted this time. "And what exactly did you mean by 'negotiate'?"

"Yeah, I'd like to know the answer to that, too," Harry jumped into the conversation, hopefully before they started sniping again.

"Well, we can give the Minister at least part of what he wants, can't we?" Hermione suddenly seemed hesitant. "Harry, you can tell him what happened in that graveyard, and what happened in the Department of Mysteries a few months ago –"

"Hang on – does Scrimgeour know about the prophecy? And if he doesn't, should we tell him?" Ron interrupted.

"I don't know – there was that article about Trelawney's prophecy in the paper a while back, but I've no idea if the Minister knows the exact wording. And Dumbledore told me it'd be better to limit who else knows about it, besides you two," Harry replied. He saw Ron frown and asked, "What?"

"Uh, I'm just wondering – well, what's the point in keeping all that hidden, after everything that's happened?" Ron asked doubtfully. "I mean, You-Know-Who is still gonna try to kill you either way, Harry; whether or not he learns it's going to come down to either you or him, in the end. What real difference will it make, if that evil git somehow learns that he now has one more reason to use the Killing Curse on you?"

"Voldemort could abandon everything else – literally – and try his hardest to kill our friend, you thick-skulled moron!" Hermione yelled, looking infuriated.

"You mean while Harry's safe at Hogwarts, under Dumbledore's personal protection?" Ron shot back, now looking really angry himself. "The one place You-Know-Who could never take over, even at the height of his power? I'm just saying, if we need to negotiate – your words, Hermione! – maybe that prophecy could be something worth trading, to make sure Scrimgeour doesn't ruin Harry's life?!"

Harry was saved from having to send both his friends to neutral corners by a loud knocking on the door. "Minute must be up," he muttered, as Hermione undid the privacy charm. { Thank God... }

"What have you decided?" Scrimgeour wanted to know, as soon as he and Percy had re-entered the office.

"I'd like to ask a question, before we tell you anything," Hermione said, before either Ron or Harry could say a word. "All three of us are still underage, even though my seventeenth birthday is less than two months away. And according to wizarding law, aren't we supposed to have a parent or guardian present for this conversation?"

Rufus gestured to Percy, who cleared his throat and looked somewhat embarrassed as he said, "That's something of a, ah, rather gray area, actually. Yes, a parent or parental guardian should be present in any official questioning of a minor, but..."

"But?" Hermione's eyes narrowed.

"Harry's an orphan, and he doesn't have an official magical guardian, as far as I know; the Dursleys certainly don't qualify, and since this isn't Hogwarts, neither do any of the school staff. And your parents are muggles, Hermione. They're not allowed into the Ministry of Magic, except under extraordinary circumstances or with the Minister's personal permission," Percy finished up, looking more uncomfortable than ever.

"WHAT? But – that's, that's blatant discrimination! How on earth can you possibly justify –" Hermione started to work her way up to a huge rant.

"What about me?" Ron interrupted, a wary look in his eyes as he studied Scrimgeour. "I mean, I'm not an orphan. And my dad works for you, Minister. So how's that, then?"

"Your brother Percival is of age, he's standing right here, and it's within my authority to grant him temporary power of in loco parentis," Rufus answered impatiently. "Now, enough delays. What's it going to be, Potter?"

"How do I know you'll keep your word, afterwards?" Harry asked cautiously, and somewhat mistrustfully. "Not give me a sham trial, I mean – like Fudge did, roughly a year ago?"

"You're the so-called Chosen One, Potter," Scrimgeour now looked more annoyed and impatient than ever. "I need you to support the Ministry, to reassure the witches and wizards of Magical Britain that we'll all get through this somehow. Hope is the one thing everybody lost in the last war, you know, can't give it up again – so I can't needlessly drag your name through the mud, can I! Again, in today's political climate – and the fact that everyone now knows He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is back – that would be a disaster for me!"

"So, if I did answer your questions – how exactly do you plan to ensure I don't lie, or leave anything out? Veritaserum?" Harry asked, not entirely seriously.

"Of course," Rufus replied, much to the Golden Trio's shock as he went over his desk, pulled open a drawer, and brought out a vial of what looked like water. "Three drops of this, and I'll be willing to believe anything you tell me."

"But, but, it's illegal to give someone who's underage that sort of truth serum! Even Snape says so!" Hermione shrieked indignantly.

"Only at Hogwarts," Percy corrected her, again not meeting anyone's eyes. "And before he left office, Cornelius Fudge passed legislation that the Minister of Magic has the authority to administer it to anyone he deems fit, actually."

"Blimey. Well, if any of us has got to do it, then – then it should be me," Ron spoke up, much to everyone's shock. "It's the best possible way for you, Minister."

"What?" Scrimgeour suddenly looked confused. "What are you talking about, Weasley?"

"Well, I was just thinking," Ron said slowly. "If the word should spread that you forced veritaserum down the throat of the Boy-Who-Lived, or the brightest witch of our age, your enemies could and would use that against you. Especially if their guardians or Dumbledore aren't here, to speak on their behalf. But me? You said it yourself, Minister – Percy's family, and I'm pretty sure you won't risk asking anything that could get you in trouble with my parents. We Weasleys may be considered blood traitors to the bigots and all, but we're still purebloods – and I reckon you wouldn't want anyone getting too angry with you, right? You'll still have to deal with the voters' feelings during the next election, won't you?"

"Ron, no! I won't let you do this –" Harry immediately began to protest his friend's decision.

"Harry, think about it. Do you really want to talk about what happened in Little Hangleton, back then? Or what happened to Sirius, a few months ago?" Ron demanded, effectively shutting Harry up. The ginger then turned to his other best friend, "And you, Hermione; do you really want Percy and Scrimgeour to learn all your secrets? Like what happened during our second year, with that polyjuice?"

"What?!" Percy demanded, his eyes growing wide. "Merlin... I heard the rumors about that Christmas, all those years ago, but – I mean, that's why you ended up in the Hogwarts infirmary back then? A Potions accident?"

"I'm not interested in any of that," Scrimgeour cut off any reply that Hermione might have made, before focusing on Ron. "All right, Weasley, so be it. I assume you know just about everything that Potter does – so open your mouth, and let's do this."

Ron obediently opened up and allowed Percy to place three drops of veritaserum on to his tongue. Almost immediately, the ginger's eyes glazed over, which caused Hermione and Harry some worry and distress. Percy, too, though you couldn't tell from looking at his face...

"Ron? Are you all right?" Harry asked in concern, remembering the last time he'd seen someone under the thrall of the magical truth serum: Barty Crouch junior. Death Eater, impersonator of Mad-Eye Moody and psychotic murderer –

"Yes. I'm fine," Ron answered calmly.

"Right, let's start with some basic questions. What's your name?" Scrimgeour demanded.

"Ronald Bilius Weasley."

"Birthday?"

"March first, 1980."

"How do you feel about me forcing you to take veritaserum in Potter's place?" was the next question out of Scrimgeour's mouth, which caused Harry's eyebrows to rise sharply.

"I think you're a sodding wanker for doing something like that," Ron replied emotionlessly.

"LANGUAGE!" Hermione immediately chastised, and Percy looked like he wanted to say the exact same thing; but didn't dare to do so.

"Shut up, Miss Granger, and don't interrupt again. Consider that a Ministerial order," Rufus scowled at the brown-eyed girl. Then he turned back to Ron and said, "How do you feel about your brother, Percival?"

"He's a complete and utter git," Ron replied, almost causing Hermione to suffer an apoplexy from keeping her mouth shut and forcing Percy to look away again.

"Why do you think that?" Rufus wanted to know.

"He broke mum and dad's hearts, for one thing, turning his back on them and the rest of the family," Ron said way too calmly, causing Percy to flinch. "Plus, Perce still hasn't apologized for his actions yet, or even admitted to Harry that he was wrong about denying that Voldemort had come back when he did."

{ He actually said the name, and without flinching, } Harry thought to himself in amazement, as Rufus asked one or two more test questions. { I guess Snape was actually right for once – three drops of that stuff, and even Voldemort himself would spill out his darkest secrets! }

"Very well, then, I'm convinced. Weasley, what do you know about You-Know-Who that could help me put an end to the threat he poses to our world?" Scrimgeour then asked.

"Voldemort isn't so much a threat as a symptom of the disease which wizarding Britain has been suffering for decades," Ron said almost robotically, again causing Harry to raise his eyebrows. "Therefore, I can't answer that question the way you want me to."

"Why not? No, never mind. And what do you mean by 'disease', boy?" Rufus then demanded.

"The bigotry all British witches and wizards possess, to some degree. Voldemort may be one of the two most powerful wizards in existence, but one man alone can't battle against an entire nation and win, no matter how powerful he is. That's why Tom Marvolo Riddle crafted the persona of Lord Voldemort, to appeal to the rich and powerful – and their prejudices. He did it pretty successfully, too, given he almost took over during the first war. And why he'll take over this time, if he isn't stopped by Harry."

Scrimgeour stared at Ron carefully, and then at Harry. The Minister opened his mouth to say something, but then he visibly changed his mind. Scrimgeour looked at Percy meaningfully and tapped twice on his desk. The older Weasley quickly brought out a roll of parchment and self-inking quill, and cast a spell with his wand to record Ron's words. Hermione looked like she wanted to object, but another glare from Scrimgeour quickly disabused her of that notion.

Then Rufus said, "If it were up to you, Weasley, how would you go about neutralizing the enemy before he takes over the country?"

"A three-pronged strategy, to be applied before Harry eventually finishes him off, somehow. Start with the Wizengamot first," Ron replied in that detached, emotionless voice. "Use stunners on everyone during the next session, and check them for the Dark Mark. You'll probably get a handful of Voldemort's agents, and most of them will be Lucius Malfoy's friends and allies. Interrogate them after putting them into a Ministry cell, not Azkaban –"

"Why not there, Ron?" Harry interrupted, unable to help himself despite the glare Rufus sent his way.

"Voldemort will easily liberate them; plus, the Dementors will have to return there, one day," Ron answered placidly. "Stands to reason, anyway; Voldemort can't offer them more than what the Ministry can, long term, in regards to their... food supply. Not without violating the Statute of Secrecy, and forcing the I.C.W. to send foreign hit-wizards here to stop it. Once Voldemort doesn't need those monsters to terrorize the muggle and wizarding population anymore, the Dementors should cease to be an issue."

"Keep going with that three-pronged strategy you mentioned before," the Minister demanded. "What next, after taking prisoners and learning what they know?"

"Freeze their Gringotts bank accounts, so that the family members can't withdraw their gold for the Death Eater cause," Ron replied. "Offer Ragnok, or whatever his name is, something to make him agreeable to that, via the Goblin Liaison Office. And lastly, interrogate everyone working at the Ministry with veritaserum, clean house and make it impossible for anyone with a Dark Mark to enter the building. You'll need a team of curse breakers and warding specialists for that, and it'll have to be done both in secret and with people you can trust. Dumbledore might be a good source to find who you need there, I can't say for sure."

"The old man might be an ally with regards to that? What does that mean, exactly?" Rufus demanded.

"Dumbledore's character. He either wants people to think he's gone completely barmy, or he's got some sort of mysterious master plan in mind to serve what he calls the 'greater good'. Either way, the Headmaster's cocked it up too many times now for me to completely trust him any longer," the male teen replied, a bit too candidly.

"RON!" Hermione squawked, looking scandalized and unable to keep silent anymore. "How can you say that?"

"The veritaserum is making me aware of truths I hadn't realized until right now," Ron replied tranquilly.

"Interesting, but what mistakes are these that explain why you now lack complete trust in the Headmaster of Hogwarts?" Rufus asked impatiently, and luckily ignoring Hermione's outburst.

"First year, Dumbledore let Voldemort into the school as a parasite on the back of Professor Quirrell's head, and Harry almost died. Second year, he let Voldemort's diary into the school and didn't realize a basilisk was terrorizing Hogwarts, until Ginny almost died. Third year, Dumbledore didn't do anything that really mattered about Sirius Black, until he got Hermione and Harry to save him from Snape and the Dementor's Kiss. Fourth year, he failed to realize Crouch junior had replaced Professor Moody – supposedly his best friend – and let that Death Eater play his part in bringing Voldemort back. Last year, Dumbledore failed to stop Umbridge torturing students left and right and he kept Harry ignorant of what was happening with his connection to Voldemort, until after Sirius was needlessly killed," the Weasley boy said relentlessly. "No one's perfect, I know, but as I said – too many blunders for me to blindly trust in Albus Dumbledore, not anymore."

"Anything else?" Scrimgeour asked, again tapping his fingers on the desk.

"Information is ammunition. Get The Daily Prophet and The Quibbler to print the true story of Voldemort's origins, make sure everyone knows he's the halfblood son of a muggle as well as the Heir of Slytherin," Ron replied serenely. "Provide everyone the proof that'll splinter the enemy's pureblood support base, especially among the heirs currently at Hogwarts. Very few of them will want to fight and die for someone like Tom Riddle, given the prejudices I mentioned before, once they finally hear the truth... and actually believe it."

"Right, I've heard enough for now. Weasley – I mean, Percival – administer the antidote," Scrimgeour ordered, apparently not noticing Harry and Hermione staring at Ron with open-mouthed disbelief. "And find your brother some desk space in your office, until you've arranged for him to get one of his own."

"Wha- what?" Hermione gasped, as Percy gave Ron the potion antidote and the younger Weasley son started blinking rapidly.

Scrimgeour quickly looked at her. "Was I unclear in some way? In case you didn't realize it – we're at war, Miss Granger, and I need a competent strategist to give me ideas like the ones we all just heard. That's why Mr. Weasley – Ronald – has just gotten himself drafted to work for the Ministry, as one of my aides."

{ Oh, Merlin! Ron's mum will either do her nut once she hears about this, or else she'll be pleased as punch that another one of her sons has gotten a job that she approves of, } Harry thought dazedly. { I wonder which one it'll be? }

As it turned out, Molly Weasley's reaction to the news was far less extreme than Hermione Granger's; someone who, as September first approached, continually expressed her anger that one of her two best friends wouldn't be attending Hogwarts with her any longer.


A/N: This chapter was primarily inspired by the story "Veritas Oracle" by BajaB, and I just want to say thanks to him for it, and give it a read if you like magical truth serum stories! This 'might have been' initially begins near the end of chapter 6 (p. 126) of JKR's 'Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince' and so, nothing from therein belongs to me. Anyway, as always, thanks to everyone for their reviews and feedback, and I hope you keep reading and reviewing this story! From now on, things will get more... adult in nature, just giving you fair warning ahead of time...