Chapter 32 – A Shot Across the Bow
As the bright green curse erupted from the end of the Auror's wand, Harry allowed instinct to take over. Pulling Fleur with him he dove to the side, landing heavily on the floor and, immediately scrambling away from her, fought to get his wand loose, determined to protect Fleur from any following curses.
At the same instant as Harry moved, a block of wood suddenly appeared in the space which he and Fleur had stood only instants before. The curse impacted with the wood and it exploded, sending a shower of slivers over the assembled—Harry shuffled to the side, trying to avoid the slivers and splinters, feeling them as they impacted his head and jacket. Ignoring them for the time being, Harry shifted to one side, ensuring that he was in front of his betrothed and, coming to one knee, aimed his wand toward the Auror who had tried to kill them, noting with pride that Fleur had her wand in her hand and was scrambling up to support him, her face fixed in a determined scowl.
Thankfully, there was no more cause to worry. Though the attacker had gotten off his first curse before anyone could react, he was hit by two stunners fired from different sides of the room, going down in a heap seconds after his attack. He was lucky he had gone down quickly—a hail of spells followed the first and would have undoubtedly injured him seriously if they had actually hit him.
"Everyone please be calm," Dumbledore's voice sounded over the frightened voices of the crowd as he stepped forward. He appeared at Harry's side and said, "Harry, Miss Delacour—are you both well?"
"That was a handy piece of conjuration, professor," Harry noted, heaving himself to his feet. He reached down a hand and, grasping Fleur's, pulled her from the floor, saying, "At least I presume that was your handiwork?" With Fleur on her feet, she stepped to him immediately, molding herself into his side. Harry put an arm around her and could instantly feel her slight tremble, but one look at her implacable expression told him that it was from the adrenaline rush rather than fear.
"It was," Dumbledore agreed. "But that is one of the benefits of a long life—the expectation that anything can and will happen and the experience to react in an instant.
"But I believe we must discover what is happening," he continued, beginning to walk toward the downed Auror, who had already been trussed up in thick ropes. Then Dumbledore seemed to notice the greenish glow which was still coming in through the windows. Scowling, he raised his wand and made a circular gesture, as though he was stirring something, and almost instantly the glow began to fade and within moments was gone altogether.
Jean-Sebastian, who had almost been first on the scene, turned his troubled eyes to them as they approached, though he did nod with approval and thanks at Dumbledore. He checked Fleur and Harry over carefully and, seeing that they were both unharmed, turned his attention to the assembled who, now that the danger had passed, had begun murmuring amongst themselves.
"If everyone will please be patient, we will get to the bottom of this. In the meantime, Matty!" The diminutive house-elf appeared and bowed to his master. "Please organize the house-elves. See to our guests and ensure that no one has been injured. And have some elves check the grounds and make sure that nothing else is out of place."
"Yes master," the elf replied before he popped away. A few moments later several other elves popped in and began moving throughout the ballroom. Luckily, it turned out that there were few injuries to report. A few people had been hit by flying debris but, other than one lady who had a gash on her cheek—and she did not even know it was there until it had been pointed out to her—the injuries were limited to minor splinters and a small cut or two.
Gathering close, Dumbledore gestured to the man one the ground and asked, "Is this man known to you?"
"He's been a member of my staff for years. I would have sworn to his loyalty."
Dumbledore rubbed his beard thoughtfully. "If he has been deemed to be loyal, them perhaps he has been tampered with?"
Jean-Sebastian's face grew bleak and he gestured to one of the nearby Aurors. "Check the nearby rooms for anything suspicious—let's see if there is anything from which we can draw a few conclusions. Also, get some Veritaserum. And where is Jacques?"
"I don't know. I have not seen him in some time."
"Find him and direct him to me when you do."
The Auror bowed and move from the room, motioning several others to follow him as he departed. Jean-Sebastian turned his attention back to the bound man and appeared to consider him for several moments. "Jacques is my head of security—I would have expected him to come running at the first sign of trouble."
"You believe something has happened to him?"
"I cannot say," Jean-Sebastian declared. "It may be, or he may just have been called away to deal with something else."
"Ambassador Delacour," a voice stated. Harry looked up to see a middle-aged witch with a monocle on one eye approaching them. "If you would permit me, I think it would be best if our Aurors cooperated with your security staff to work through this investigation."
"Agreed," Jean-Sebastian replied with a bow. "You can use the main Floo in the entrance hall to send for some of your staff. Thank you, Director Bones."
Bowing, Madam Bones left to summon the British Aurors. At that moment, a cry went up from one of the adjacent rooms, and a moment later an Auror entered. He approached Jean-Sebastian, his expression grim, and began speaking earnestly in French. Feeling a lead weight in the pit of his stomach, Harry moved closer, an action followed by his betrothed, but the whispered conference abruptly ended and Jean-Sebastian followed the Auror from the room, leaving Harry wishing he knew what was going on.
"Patience, Harry," Dumbledore said by his side. "I daresay when Jean-Sebastian returns we shall discover what has happened."
As it turned out, Dumbledore was correct and they did not have long to wait, as only a few moments later, Jean-Sebastian returned to the ballroom, and from his expression, Harry could tell that his news would not be good. At the same time, Madam Bones reentered the room followed by several Aurors. Among their number were several that Harry had met before, including both Kingsley Shacklebolt and Nymphadora Tonks.
Jean-Sebastian approached them and as Madam Bones arrived, they gathered together for what Harry could see was to be a serious discussion. "My security forces found Jacques Fournier, my head of security. He was tied hand and foot and had been executed with a cutting curse to the throat."
Harry remembered Jacques. He was a gruff yet kindly man, who had been unmarried—a self-professed bachelor who declared he was married to his job. Though he had not been a personable or talkative man, his devotion to the Delacour family had easily been evident in the pride he took in his job, and the hours he had put in to making certain the family was as safe as possible. Jean-Sebastian had known the man for years—he would definitely be missed.
"Ah, Jean-Sebastian you have my condolences," Dumbledore responded. "I understand he had been with you for quite some time."
"Indeed he had," was Jean-Sebastian's tight reply.
Glancing over at the bound Auror, Madam Bones said, "Do you suspect this man of being controlled?"
"Unless he has managed to hide in my security detail for some years without being discovered as a closet supporter of Voldemort, then yes. I am confident that he would not have hurt anyone in my family willingly." Jean-Sebastian then looked over at Dumbledore and said, "Priori Incantato?"
Harry did not quite understand the meaning of Jean-Sebastian's cryptic statement, but Dumbledore apparently understood immediately. "Unfortunately, if our assailant was in any way competent, he would have cleared his wand," was Dumbledore's pessimistic reply.
"Sorry sir, but what is Priori Incantato?" Harry asked.
"It is a spell which shows the last spell cast by a wand, Mr. Potter" Madam Bones answered. "Unfortunately, its limitation is that it can only detect the last spell and not any before. If someone has used the Imperius Curse on the Ambassador's security Auror, then all he would have had to do was to cast a simple Lumos for example to remove all trace of his deed. It's referred to as 'clearing the wand.'"
This was something new to Harry and he thought that Hermione would have been thrilled to learn some new information, despite the situation.
Unfortunately, Harry was not given much time to think of this, as during Madam Bones's explanation, the Minister had approached them, and had apparently heard the last bit of it.
"What is this I hear about Priori Incantato?"
It was obvious to Harry that Jean-Sebastian would have preferred to ignore the Minister, given his generally obstructionist stance. His good manners won out, though, and he addressed Fudge, saying, "We were talking about using Priori Incantato on the wands of all the guests on the off chance that whoever did this did not clear their wand."
"Why would you need to do that?" Fudge demanded. "It seems pretty obvious that you already have the culprit in custody."
"Never," Jean-Sebastian stated firmly. "Gaston is loyal and true as anyone I have ever met. He would never have done this if he wasn't forced to."
"That is beside the point," declared the Minister. "You cannot go invading the privacy of your guests—particularly since they are among Wizarding Britain's elite!—without even knowing if your supposition is true. You will need to establish that first."
Harry watched as Jean-Sebastian exchanged a glance with both Madam Bones and the Headmaster, before he nodded tightly to Fudge. "Then we will get you that proof."
The Minister was nonplussed, but Harry had an inkling of what Jean-Sebastian intended. A quick call to Matty, and the elf had situated a chair next to the waiting Ambassador, and the bound Auror was quickly placed in the chair. Another Auror quickly entered the room and passed a vial to Jean-Sebastian which he took and began working the stopper loose. The sight seemed to galvanize the Minister into action.
"You intend to use Veritaserum?"
"We do," Jean-Sebastian declared stonily, as though daring Fudge to object.
The Minister obliged. "I will remind you that Veritaserum is a controlled substance."
"And I will remind you that this is a crime which happened in the Ambassador's manor," Jean-Sebastian rejoined. "And the supposed perpetrator is a French Auror. I am able to authorize the use of Veritaserum in this instance."
"And even if he wasn't," Madam Bones spoke before Fudge could, "as this is a criminal investigation, I can do likewise."
"And in so doing, you will turn this ballroom into a courtroom?"
"Minister Fudge," Jean-Sebastian said, his tone faintly unfriendly, "as we require proof of this man's innocence, as you say, we must get it before we can allow the guests to leave, so that we may question everyone. There is a murderer here, whether it was Gaston, or one of our guests. I will do my utmost to ensure that justice is done."
"Of course," Fudge responded in a gracious tone, though his stony glare suggested anything but. "The protocols must be followed, and if you both agree, then we should get on with it."
Harry nearly scowled at the Minister, his distaste for the man almost making him lose his composure. It was as though he was determined to object to everything, and make life as difficult for them all as he possibly could. Of course he did—he was a politician, after all, and just about as much of a politician as anyone Harry had ever met.
"Very well," Madam Bones replied after a moment. "But before we begin, let me address the gathering.
She turned and directed a stern gaze toward the assembled who were still waiting—in most cases patiently—to be told what was happening. "Wizards and Witches, thank you for your patience. As some of you may be aware, in addition to the attack we witnessed this evening in this very room, a man was murdered."
A murmur of voices began as the guests processed this information, and it was several moments before they quieted down enough for Madam Bones to continue. "We will now be giving the suspect Veritaserum to establish his guilt or innocence. If he is guilty, then our task will be completed and you may all return to your homes. However, if—as is suspected—he is merely the victim of the Imperius curse, then we will need to question everyone in this room and inspect your wands."
"What give you the right to question us?" Lucius Malfoy said with a sneer. "I refuse to be involved in this demeaning matter—don't you know who I am?"
"I know exactly who you are, Mr. Malfoy," was Madam Bones's response. It was clear from her firm tone that she was anything but intimidated by Malfoy's bravado. It was also clear that she suspected him of being more than just a "concerned citizen."
"This falls under the purview of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement," she continued, "and therefore under my authority. If you refuse to allow the inspection of your wand and answer a few questions willingly, then you will immediately be considered a suspect and will be subject to Veritaserum questioning. Am I clear?"
Malfoy merely waved his hand appearing bored at the proceedings. "Very well—do what you must. The sooner we end this farce, the better."
"There is one other thing," Madam Bones directed, looking sternly out at the crowd. "We will also be checking all of your wands. No spells are to be cast. I suggest you leave your wands wherever you are carrying them, as failure to abide by this stricture will also be deemed suspicious and result in Veritaserum questioning."
Turning back from the ballroom, Madam Bones gestured to Jean-Sebastian, saying, "Now, if you will do the honors?"
With a tight nod, Jean-Sebastian rose to his feet and approached the bound Auror. He took a small bottle off his desk and, with Sirius's help, pried the man's mouth open and allowed three drops from the bottle to fall into his mouth. Then, after a few moments had passed, he produced his wand and intoned, "Enervate," bringing the man back to consciousness. Gaston's eyes fluttered open and he peered straight ahead, the blank expression on his face indicating that the potion had indeed taken effect.
"Gaston, can you hear me?" Jean-Sebastian asked.
"Yes," was the answer.
"Very well. Please state your name."
"Gaston Gingras."
"Do you remember what happened earlier this evening?"
"I do."
"So you do know why we are questioning you."
"Yes."
Jean-Sebastian looked up and exchanged a glance with Dumbledore. Nodding at the other man, he proceeded to get to the heart of the matter.
"Did you kill Jacques Fournier tonight?"
"Yes."
"Please explain why."
"I was forced to do it."
"How?"
"I was told to do it and had no choice to obey."
"Why?"
"I… I don't know," Gaston admitted. "All I know is that I was commanded to kill Jacques. I couldn't disobey."
A relieved sigh met the Gaston's confession. Clearly, though Jean-Sebastian had been confident of the man's innocence and loyalty, the possibility—however remote—that he had been a traitor had been taxing. For himself, Harry was relieved as well. The attack was almost certainly the work of Death Eaters—this man, however, was not one of them.
With a glance at Fudge, Jean-Sebastian continued to question the Auror. "Can you tell us more of what happened?"
"I was walking rounds when I heard a voice behind me, but before I could turn around, I felt a strange calmness come over me. A man then commanded me to make no attempt to identify him. He then told me to find the chief of security, bind him and execute him in a way which would send a message. Then I was to enter the ballroom, cast the dark mark, make a statement that Mudbloods, Blood Traitors, and creatures would no longer be tolerated, and then kill Miss Fleur with the killing curse."
"Specifically Miss Fleur?" Dumbledore interjected.
"The man was adamant that it had to be Miss Fleur," Gaston confirmed.
"What of his voice?" asked Madam Bones. "Could you identify him based on his voice?"
"He used some sort of muffling charm to mask his voice. I doubt that I could identify him."
"Now Gaston, I want to be completely clear," Jean-Sebastian persisted, "you did what you did because you were commanded to and not because you are in league with Voldemort's supporters?"
"I am not in league with them."
"Would you ever want to put the lives of my daughters or my ward in jeopardy?"
"I would never have put your safety or the safety of your family at risk. I am devoted to protecting you."
"Very well," Jean-Sebastian responded. "Can we all agree that Gaston is innocent of the murder and casting the dark mark and the killing curse?"
A murmur of assent met Jean-Sebastian's question. He continued to peer over the ballroom for a moment before speaking again. "Does anyone have any further questions for Gaston?"
"One further," Madam Bones spoke up. "In doing your rounds, did you notice anyone out in the hallways, or snooping into areas which they should not have been?"
"No," the Auror replied. "There was no one in the hallways, and I found no problems in any of the rooms I checked."
With a sigh, Madam Bones sat back in her chair. "I didn't think so, but it was worth the question. I am sorry, Jean-Sebastian, but I'm not sure we have much to go on."
"Perhaps not. But then again, perhaps the questioning of the guests will lead to something. For now, I would like to see to Gaston."
Drawing his wand, Jean-Sebastian pointed it at Gaston, said, "Somnus!"
The Auror slumped in his chair and Jean-Sebastian motioned to two of the French Aurors to approach. They immediately took charge of Gaston, and left the room, levitating his body behind them.
"Gaston and Jacques were very good friends," Jean-Sebastian said by way of explanation. "He will be devastated when he wakes to realize what he was forced to do this evening. He will be transferred to the hospital in Paris for his recovery."
"Very well, Jean-Sebastian," Madam Bones said in a tight voice. She turned to a nearby English Auror, a tall man with read hair and an implacable mien. "Rufus, please organize your Auror force and arrange for the questioning of everyone in this room. Your team may follow their instincts, but at the very least, everyone should be questioned as to whether they saw anything out of place, what they were doing preceding the attack, and their wands should be checked. Include the teenagers, Rufus—let's make every effort to get to the bottom of this."
"Yes, Director Bones," the man said with a bow, before he began carrying out his instructions.
The murmur of conversation swelled as the guests began speaking again of the shocking events of the evening, and while the Aurors quickly organized themselves, there was not much to do but wait. And though Harry witnessed several unreadable looks directed at him and Fleur, he ignored them and turned to his betrothed. "Are you sure you are okay?"
"I am well, Harry," said Fleur. Her smile then turned sly and she continued, "Thank you—you saw what was happening and reacted much more quickly than I."
Harry hugged her to him. "I couldn't let anything happen to my girl now, could I?" He pulled away and gazed at her somberly. "I'm sorry you've been brought into this—now they've targeted you directly. I think—"
"Do not even suggest it," said Fleur firmly. "They are at fault, Harry—not you."
"Are you sure?"
"I'm not giving you up, if that is what you are asking."
Nodding, and grateful for her support and equanimity, Harry turned, noticing that Ron, Hermione and their other friends chose that moment to approach. Behind them Mr. Weasley had stopped to speak with Jean-Sebastian. Though Molly Weasley stood at Mr. Weasley's side and looked at Harry with an unreadable expression, she made no effort to approach.
Hermione stepped forward and threw her arms around them both. "Are you okay?"
"We are well, Hermione," Fleur assured her while Harry only nodded.
"Typical Harry," Ron stated with a grin. "Can't get through anything without a little excitement."
"I think I could do without the excitement, thank you very much," Harry retorted.
"Harry, I think you might be a little confused," one of the twins spoke up.
"Just a teeny bit," chimed in the other.
Harry eyed the two with a critical gaze; knowing the two of them—not to even mention the identical expressions of mischief the two sported—their plan was undoubtedly humor, laced with a certain measure of embarrassment.
"It is generally considered good manners to wait until after you have the girl alone to throw her down and have your way with her."
"Not to mention the fact that the use of a bed is generally preferable."
Now Harry was exasperated. "Can't you two ever be serious?"
The twins looked at one another and sobered. "Of course we can Harry," one replied.
"We just wanted to ease the tension a little. Good job protecting Fleur—when that guy cast it was almost as though everyone else was caught in a freezing charm."
Mollified, Harry nodded. "It was so sudden. I wasn't sure what he was doing until he leveled his arm to cast."
"Good job, either way," Bill interjected. "You've been listening to Auror Moody, haven't you? 'Constant Vigilance?'"
Harry laughed and agreed, as the friends sat down at a nearby table to wait for their turn to be questioned.
The next two hours were tedious for the group of friends. The Auror force carried out its instructions quickly and efficiently, but the number of guests was such that it still took quite a considerable amount of time for them to work their way through everyone.
Sitting at their table, Harry and his friends talked in subdued tones, though they tried to avoid the topic which was most on everyone's mind. They spoke of the beginning of the new school term, discussed the remaining Quidditch games, and even speculated on the identity of the new Defense Professor who it was rumored was due to start at the beginning of the next term. Harry and Fleur even insisted on taking their turns being questioned by the Aurors, even though they were the obvious targets of the ballroom attack, so that any question of favoritism or breach of law could be dismissed.
Though Harry and his friends were not told anything specific, it did not appear to him as though much progress had been made. No one broke for the exits for having an incriminating wand, no one seemed to be answering the questions in any suspicious sort of way, and in short, nothing seemed out of the ordinary.
Finally, once the Weasley family had all been questioned and had their wands checked, Mr. Weasley announced his intention to take his family home for the evening. Having already finished himself, Harry decided that he would see them to the entrance to the manor, followed by Hermione, Fleur, and Susan Bones—who had sat with them during their discussions.
As they walked toward the exit, Harry chanced to be walking beside Bill, with Fleur on his other side. Bill glanced this way and that and, apparently assuring himself that there was no one nearby, leaned toward Harry.
"I know that they are trying to figure out what has happened tonight," he said quietly to Harry. "I'm no detective, but I am a curse breaker. If you need me, Harry, you can call me at any time. I am a member of the Order too, so you should be able to get in touch with me through Dumbledore, or through any of my family."
They stopped in the coat room, and Harry turned and shook Bill's hand. "Thanks for the offer, Bill. You never know—we may have need of your expertise at some point. We'll let you know if anything comes up."
"Interesting little light show at the end, huh, Potter?"
As the hated voice reached Harry's ears, he turned with a stony countenance, noticing Draco Malfoy standing behind him and eying the group with his customary sneer. In behind him stood his father and mother, the father showing a carefully disinterested expression, while his mother barely glanced his way, as she was more intent upon peering this way and that as though something offended her.
"Now Draco, you should not speak in such a manner," Lucius Malfoy admonished, though his own contempt was visible for anyone who wished to look. Draco had just enough sense to look slightly abashed, and though Harry was not unaware of the fact that Lucius was not concerned in the slightest for what had occurred that evening, he was not entirely certain why the man had rebuked his son. Perhaps it was nothing more than appearance—Draco's words had been remarkably tactless, even for him!
Harry, however, was not about to allow the little bigot to have his say without pushing back. "I would hardly call someone casting the killing curse a 'light show,'" Harry ground out. "Of course, I suppose that to your father and his cohorts casting the killing curse is just another day in the office, isn't it?"
Once again, Lucius Malfoy's infuriating eyebrow rose at Harry's jibe and though Mrs. Malfoy appeared oblivious to the exchange, Draco's chagrin quickly become a scowl. To his side, Bill stepped forward and laid a hand on Harry's shoulder.
"Harry, I think you should let this be and allow the Malfoys to return to their home."
Lucius simply ignored Bill, focusing exclusively on Harry. "Come now, Mr. Potter," Lucius replied. "Surely you are not suggesting that I had anything to do with tonight's little excitement. The questioning the Aurors put me through proved my innocence, I should think. Personally, I chalk the whole episode up to poor security, though I suppose I could not have expected anything better."
"I'm not suggesting anything," Harry said, ignoring the man's insult. "I'm telling you that I know that you had something to do with it; whether you were the one who actually cast the spell or not, you were involved up to your eyebrows."
A faint smile graced Lucius's face, though Draco's face was purpling at the insult.
"Those are pretty big words for a jumped-up Halfblood, Potter," he hissed.
"At least I can back up my words, ferret," Harry jibed. "After the beat downs you've absorbed over the years, I would have thought you'd be a little more cautious, but I guess intelligence just doesn't run in your family."
This seemed to garner Mrs. Malfoy's attention, as she swept up and hissed, "You filthy little cretin! My Draco is ten times the wizard you'll ever be!"
"Only when it comes to threatening to tell daddy," Harry spat contemptuously.
Eyes blazing with offense, she sucked in a breath, no doubt to begin a diatribe, when Lucius cleared his throat, silencing his wife and his heir. Mrs. Malfoy sniffed with disdain before she turned on her heel and strode back to her husband. Draco appeared as though he wanted to say more, but a quelling gaze from his father ensured his silence. Once his family was under control, Lucius turned his attention back to Harry and he appeared to consider him for several moments as he rubbed his chin in thought.
"I see I shall need to bring up your behavior with your guardian when I meet with him."
"You do that," Harry said dismissively. "For now I suggest you leave and take your spawn with you. Ask him about the past four years at Hogwarts if you want to correct someone's behavior."
"Mr. Potter, I believe that my son has given you advice on a number of occasions, which you have not seen fit to accept. Let me give you some right now so you may avoid dangerous mistakes in the future." He fixed Harry with a stern glare which may have been intimidating if he were not already furious and feeling nothing but contempt for the man. "It is not generally a good idea to accuse someone when you have no proof. I suggest you avoid this in the future, for if you give offense, you may be required to back up your words."
"Sage advice indeed."
Jean-Sebastian approached them with a neutral expression on his face, though Harry thought he could detect a hint of derision for the Malfoys in his eyes. Glancing about the room, Harry noted that the little stand off had garnered some attention, as many of those who had already been questioned had made their way to the entrance hall, and now stood talking quietly amongst themselves, watching the drama.
Harry was feeling rather belligerent at the moment and he did not particularly care whose attention he attracted. It was clear to him that Malfoy had been involved in the attack, whether he was the one who had actually pulled the trigger or not. The blond git had gotten away with so much over the years and Harry was not in the mood to allow him to get away with any more.
Now was not the time, however, and he recognized that Jean-Sebastian had intervened and that the confrontation now needed to end. There would come a time when Malfoy would pay—Harry promised that he would see to it, if no one else would.
"Mr. Malfoy is correct, Harry," Jean-Sebastian stated. "It is not wise to accuse someone when the matter has not even been fully investigated."
"Yes sir," Harry replied, still glaring at the Pureblood family. "My apologies, Mr. Malfoy for accusing you."
Of course no one—least of all the Malfoy patriarch—missed the fact that Harry apologized for the accusation, and not the sentiment behind it, and Harry made certain that he said not a word more than was absolutely required. Malfoy, however, chose to ignore it altogether, instead busying himself with his overcoat, and making certain that his family was ready to leave.
Jean-Sebastian, however, grinned at Harry and said, "Now what did we say about calling me that?"
Responding with in kind, Harry nodded his head and turned to take Fleur's hand once again in his own. Jean-Sebastian had turned back to the Malfoys.
"Thank you for coming tonight and you must allow me to apologize for the unpleasantness. You may be assured that we will get to the bottom of it."
"Of course," Malfoy replied with a nonchalant nod of his head. His attitude was enough to get Harry's dander up yet again, but this time he was able to get his emotions under control, while Fleur helped by squeezing his hand.
"Please contact me and we will arrange a time to meet. Now, if you will excuse us."
Malfoy nodded and with a look at his family, they turned and walked through the Floo, heads held high. As if on cue, those who remained also began taking their leave, and before long, the room had emptied of all but the inhabitants of the manor.
Jean-Sebastian turned back to the small group of youngsters—besides Harry, Hermione, and Fleur, Susan Bones was still present, as her aunt had not yet come to collect her. "The questioning of the guests is complete now. Miss Susan, if you will go upstairs with Hermione, you will find that a room has been prepared for you and one of your house-elves has brought you some clothes. Your aunt has agreed to attend further discussion tonight, and it will likely be very late before we finish."
"Thank you, sir," Susan replied, and after a few words with their friends—the Weasleys had stayed behind, watching the confrontation—the two young witches departed.
Once they had gone, the Weasleys also took their leave, the children promising to meet Harry and Fleur again on the Hogwarts Express. Then Harry and Fleur turned back into the house, following Jean-Sebastian as he made his way toward his study. As they walked, he turned his attention to Harry. "Harry, I understand your frustration," he began, "but it really does not do any good to confront Malfoy about what has happened here tonight."
Scowling, Harry retorted, "I'm not going to sit here and allow that bigot to slander you and Fleur, and claim innocence. Fleur could have been killed tonight—I take that very personally."
"As do I," Jean-Sebastian replied and while he kept his calm tone, Harry could hear the hint of steel he injected into it. "Harry, I have no doubt that he was involved. You know it, I know it, and he knows it. But I doubt that we will ever be able to pin it on him—at least not based on the information available to us tonight. There is no point in accusing him, and every reason to keep silent.
"You may not know this, but he could have challenged you for what you said to him." Jean-Sebastian turned a very serious eye on Harry and continued very soberly. "Of course I doubt he would—even one as obviously morally bankrupt as Lucius Malfoy would think twice before challenging an underage wizard to a duel. The societal backlash would be significant, especially if he challenged you. Still, you should not goad him like that."
Though he was still angry and wished to cause as much physical damage as possible to anyone bearing the name "Malfoy" Harry could only admit that Jean-Sebastian's advice was prudent. Thus, he nodded his head and said, "I understand. But we will make them pay some day."
"Of that you may be certain, Harry," was Jean-Sebastian' reply. They shared a grim yet determined smile.
"Are you two done with the male bravado?" Fleur asked sweetly, though a look at her face showed that she was as determined as either of them.
"No bravado—only a promise, my dear," Jean-Sebastian said smoothly. "Now let us leave this discussion for now. The Minister is here and as you know, he will not hear anything against Malfoy."
They arrived at the study and stepped into the room. In addition to the aforementioned Minister, Madam Bones, Sirius, Dumbledore and Apolline sat in quiet conversation. Leading his betrothed by the hand, Harry moved to one of the remaining seats in the room, sitting once he had held Fleur's chair for her to be seated. He had taken his seat when he noticed Jean-Sebastian's smirk, which he returned with one of his own—Fleur was a lady, and he would treat her as such.
"Now, let us recap what we all know of this affair," Jean-Sebastian began. "We all saw what happened in the ballroom, and heard the explanation from Gaston. Madam Bones, if you could give us an update as to what your Aurors discovered."
"Unfortunately, precious little," Madam Bones replied. "As we suspected, none of the wands showed anything unusual, and certainly not an Unforgiveable. A few of the guests reported seeing another leave the ballroom for whatever reason, but all of those were most likely for innocuous reasons—going to the washroom or the like. However, as guests had been leaving the ball for some time before the incident, we must also face the possibility that whoever did this left immediately after he committed his crime. We may never know anything more about this, I am afraid."
Silence settled over the room, and Harry considered the situation glumly. It appeared likely the criminal would get away with his murder, and he had no doubt that wherever he was, Voldemort would soon be celebrating.
"That is most unfortunate," Minister Fudge spoke into the silence. You have the condolences of my government."
Jean-Sebastian inclined his head, but said nothing in response.
It was Dumbledore who spoke next. "I believe we must discuss the implications of what has happened this evening."
"Yes, by all means, let's," said Jean-Sebastian, his voice hardening. "This was a direct attack, not only on one of my Aurors, but also on my daughter. The casting of the Dark Mark appears to point directly toward Death Eater activity."
"Now wait just a minute," Fudge protested. "We have no proof of anything at all; least of all that it was a Death Eater."
"Then how do you account for the Dark Mark, Minister?"
"Anyone who knows the incantation is capable of casting the Dark Mark," Fudge responded firmly. "It could have been nothing more than a diversion—an attempt to throw us off the real reason for the attack,"
"The real reason seems clear, Cornelius," interjected Dumbledore. "The Death Eaters see a threat to themselves and their master due to Jean-Sebastian's alliance with and support for Harry."
"I see what you are trying to suggest," Fudge snapped. "I would remind again you that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named cannot have returned. The man was confirmed dead at the end of the war—continuing to insist upon his impossible return can be considered seditious."
"Did you find a body, Minister?" Dumbledore asked mildly. "I can tell you that I investigated the attack on the Potters, and I certainly did not."
"That is completely beside the point," the Minister sputtered. "He is dead and cannot return. I urge you all to give up this obsession."
"I can give you my memories!" Harry exclaimed.
"Your memories are not needed or wanted, boy," spat Fudge. "I have no knowledge of what you think you saw, but whatever trickery you were subjected to, I can assure you that it was not the return of You-Know-Who."
"Regardless of whether or not he has actually returned, surely you can see the need for increasing Auror funding and heightening our state of alertness, Cornelius," Dumbledore replied. "There is clearly something at work which is trying to assert influence—the presence of the Dark Mark tonight proves that if nothing else. Surely we should be prudent and prepare for any eventuality."
"And I have told you more than once, that there is no need," insisted the Minister. "I will not be party to creating a public hysteria."
Rising, Fudge eyed each one of them in turn, though Harry could sense his air of disdain when his eyes roamed over Harry. In all honesty, Harry did not care, for the feeling was completely mutual.
"Madam Bones," the Minister finally said, "you of course have my blessing to work with the Ambassador's Aurors to determine anything further from this tragedy, and if we are able to identify and apprehend the culprits, then all the better. There are sufficient Aurors to step up patrols if you feel it necessary, but the Ministry budget is tight and there is no more money available for the DMLE.
"Having said that, I will remind you once again—no announcements are to be made without my express permission, and certainly nothing of any speculated Death Eater activity. If you can bring me clear and incontrovertible proof that proves otherwise, then the Ministry's official stance will change. I am sorry to Mr. Potter, but the testimony of an underage wizard is simply not sufficient."
His scornful glance at Harry belied his seemingly conciliatory words. Harry ignored him—the Minister had proven himself to be beneath notice time and time again.
"For now, if you will excuse me, I believe I shall return to my home, if you will allow me the use of your Floo, Jean-Sebastian." At the other wizard's tight nod, Fudge thanked him and stepped through the Floo.
"I believe that man is becoming more of a liability now than ever," Sirius growled.
"I shall pretend that I never heard you say that," Madam Bones replied with a smirk at Sirius. "Off the record I must say that Cornelius has been more erratic than ever recently, and his self-contradictions are becoming even more blatant. He publicly stated at Mr. Potter's trial that rogue Death Eaters had to be responsible for what happened at the Quidditch World Cup, and now he doesn't even want to admit that they might still be active."
She paused for a moment deep in thought, before she turned to Jean-Sebastian. "Assuming this was an attack perpetrated at You-Know-Who's command, what was its purpose?"
"It was a warning," Jean-Sebastian casually stated.
Madam Bones gazed at him steadily. "A warning to you particularly, or to those who oppose him in general?"
"Both, I imagine.'
"I agree with Jean-Sebastian," Dumbledore spoke up. "First, it seems like a warning to Jean-Sebastian—a suggestion that his present path of supporting Harry is not safe. That the strike was directed at the head of Jean-Sebastian's security detail and then at his daughter suggests that Voldemort wished to demonstrate that his family is at risk. Even more, I think it was a warning that no one is safe—everyone is touchable; everyone who opposes Voldemort will find themselves targeted."
"And I expect that when I meet with Lucius Malfoy, the threats will be much less subtle," Jean-Sebastian added. "I don't know if he planned to find a way to meet with me, but I am certain he will not let the opportunity slip by."
"Then I believe we need to move to the heart of the matter," she responded after a moment, "Mr. Potter, I believe you have made the case several times that You-Know-Who has returned, but I have never discussed this personally with you." Her eyes swiveled to Sirius. "And my apologies to you, Mr. Black—I promised a meeting with you to discuss your experiences as well as your knowledge of Mr. Pettigrew, and have failed in that regard as well.
"What I would like to understand from all of you," she addressed the entire room, "but particularly from you, Mr. Potter, is what proof do you have to offer of the Dark Lord's return? Much as I am loath to agree with the Minister, we cannot mobilize our forces unless some concrete evidence is given."
Instantly Harry had his wand out from his holster and he said, "By my life and magic I swear that I saw Lord Voldemort return to life on the night of the third task of the Tri-Wizard tournament. So mote it be!"
A flash signified his magic's acceptance of the oath and quickly Harry cast a Lumos spell. "Is that enough, Madam Bones?"
A chuckle met his question. "I can see that you can at times be as impetuous as Susan claims. By the way, since you swore on your life as well as your magic, the light spell was somewhat redundant, don't you think?"
"I just wanted to make sure that there was no misunderstanding."
Chuckling, Madam Bones bowed her head. "I assure you there was not. Unfortunately, your oath only proves that you believe that what you have told me is the truth—it does nothing to establish the actual truth of the matter, reluctant as I am to—again—agree with our esteemed Minister."
"Then I'm not sure what I can tell you."
Though she was silent for several moments, Harry could tell that the Director was sizing him up, and if he was any judge at all of such things, that he had not been found wanting. He would have expected her to scowl at him and perhaps brush him off as nothing more than an attention seeker at best, or a dangerous liar at worst, if she thought he was lying. Instead, she sat regarding him speculatively, perhaps intent on whether he was up to the task. Harry felt that here was a woman he could trust.
At length, she once again began to speak. "I'll tell you what, Mr. Potter—why don't you start from the beginning and tell me what you saw that night, so that I may judge for myself?"
"I believe we can do even better than that, Madam Bones," Dumbledore interrupted. "If Jean-Sebastian will grant me the use of his Floo, I shall return to my office at Hogwarts and retrieve my pensieve. Then we may all view the event."
Jean-Sebastian readily agreed and the Dumbledore left the office, to return in less than five minutes with the rune-covered bowl Harry remembered from the previous year. The Headmaster set the bowl on a table Jean-Sebastian had moved to the middle of the room, and then he approached Harry with a smile on his face.
"Now Harry, we need to extract the memory so that we can place it in the pensieve and then we can all view it. Now, what I would like you to do is to concentrate on the memory we need and will it from your mind. I will withdraw it with my wand and insert it into the pensieve."
"Is there anything specific you want to see?"
Dumbledore appeared thoughtful for a moment and he glanced around to the other occupants of the room. "It may take some time, but why don't we go with the whole thing? That way we can keep it all in perspective. So start from your arrival in the graveyard and then finish with your escape."
So Harry concentrated as instructed, and soon he noticed a glowing silvery strand at the side of his head by his temple. He did not feel a thing, but it was strange that something like that was emerging from his head, and being attached to the Headmaster's wand. A few moments later, the Headmaster had inserted the memory strand in the bowl where it mixed with the silvery liquid which filled the bowl almost to the brim. The Headmaster then set about tapping certain runes on the side, while explaining what he was doing.
"Normally, a pensieve requires you to 'enter' the bowl to see the memory—essentially to lower your face into the bowl, which takes you into the memory itself. With everyone here," he gestured around the room, "it would take far too long for us all to view the memory two at a time, which is about all the room in the bowl. This particular pensieve, however, has a set of runes built in which allows us to 'project', if you will, the memory up into the air so that we can all see it. There is no need for anyone to move—part of the magic of the bowl is that you will all see the memory as though you were looking through Harry's eyes."
After a few more moments, Dumbledore stepped back from the bowl, and took his seat. A few moments later, the memory began to play and Harry heard a voice saying the words which had haunted his dreams for the past seven months. "Wands out, d'you reckon?"
Feeling almost ill at the thought of once again reliving the events of the previous year, Harry hung his head and would not look at the memory. He had seen it all before—nothing new would be gained from seeing it again.
Fleur apparently recognized his pain, as she raised her hand to his back and began to rub it, though she did not take her attention away from the drama which was now playing out before them.
The memory lasted for less than half an hour—though at the time it had seemed like it had taken several hours before he had been able to escape!—and through it all, Harry found himself reliving the horror of that night. Though time had passed and to a certain extent the memory had been blunted, hearing it again—as he refused to look up—brought it all back in vivid detail and he began to wish that he had stepped from the room. At least that way he might have been able to avoid the nightmares he was certain would visit him again that night.
At the end of it all, Madam Bones sat backing her chair and, after removing her monocle, she sighed heavily and rubbed her eyes. But after that brief expression of fatigue, she immediately put her monocle back in and faced them all, a sternness back in her countenance.
"I believe for the time being, I shall ignore the obvious question of how You-Know-Who managed to place his spirit inside the homunculus."
Harry, having looked up when the memory had ended, happened to be looking at the Headmaster when Madam Bones spoke, and he was shocked to see Dumbledore's eyes tighten slightly at her statement. It was clear to him all at once—Dumbledore clearly knew something of how Voldemort had cheated death! He was even more astonished in the next moment when Dumbledore, seeming to feel someone's gaze upon him, looked over and, evidently seeing that Harry had guessed the truth, shook his head minutely, indicating a desire for Harry to remain silent. All at once he thought of Dumbledore's request earlier that evening for a discussion between them—was this what Dumbledore wanted to speak of? And if so, what precisely did it have to do with Harry?
So surprised was he, that Harry almost missed the Director's next question. "If you would be so kind, I would like to focus a little further on the ritual you observed."
Nodding his head dumbly, Harry waited for her to continue. "Nothing in your memory suggests it, but do you know the name engraved on the tombstone?"
"No," Harry responded slowly, understanding why she had asked the question, "but it doesn't matter. His name is Tom Riddle."
An eyebrow rose at his declaration. "And how do you know this?"
"When I killed the basilisk in second year I met up with his shade. He told me then what his name was."
"Ah yes, the events of your second year," the Director said with a nod. "An episode which cemented your celebrity status I should think.
"Very well then. I must say that I doubt that you and Cedric Diggory were the only victims that evening. Though I am not familiar with necromantic rituals in general, such magic comes at a terrible cost to the innocent, and as you were specifically named as You-Know-Who's enemy, I doubt you qualify as an innocent. The initial preparation of the potion would almost certainly have required a sacrifice, or likely more than one. No doubt this Pettigrew used Muggles to supply what his master required."
Aghast, Harry looked to the Headmaster and his spirits sank even further when Dumbledore nodded tightly. "That bastard," he whispered.
"Indeed," agreed Madam Bones. "However, as it is already done, all we can do now is to oppose him and ensure that he is finally defeated, and that justice is done for those who were used by his evil. I do not need to tell you all that it will not be easy, especially since Fudge is doing his best to tie our hands."
"And now we're back to the fact that Fudge is a liability when we should be preparing for war against the Death Eaters," Sirius stated.
It was a simple fact and none in the room felt it necessary to chide Sirius, or suggest that Fudge could be worked with to ensure their preparedness. The man had proved so pigheaded and adamant that Voldemort had not returned—there was obviously no common ground upon which to stand. It fell to Jean-Sebastian to voice the question they were all thinking.
"Can he be removed?"
Dumbledore shook his head. "Unfortunately, I do not have the votes necessary for such a measure. As you are aware it takes a two thirds majority of the Wizengamot to unseat a Minister, and the fact of the matter is that I do not have the support."
"Why is he so popular?" Harry demanded. "He's an idiot!"
Chuckles broke out around the room, though it was Madam Bones who spoke first. "Although I have many times tended to agree with you, I would advise you not to be so eager to say such things, Mr. Potter. He is the Minister, after all, regardless of whether or not we agree with his policies."
"And in answer to your question, Harry," Dumbledore continued, "he is not popular as such—he is more useful than anything else. Unfortunately, the Minister is corrupt, though I have never been able to prove anything, and many factions know this and know his support can be bought. As such, they would rather keep him in the position he is in rather than risk a new Minister who would be hostile to their agenda."
"But he cannot support every faction," Harry protested.
"No, he cannot," Dumbledore agreed, "but he by and large does support the supremacist faction because Lucius Malfoy pays him to do so, and though the diehards are a small faction, they have a lot of sympathy from other Purebloods."
"Headmaster," Madam Bones admonished, "I would prefer you did not speak in such a manner."
"You know it as well as I do, Amelia," Dumbledore said with a shrug. He turned his attention back to Harry. "In addition, the other factions know that they can buy his loyalty for a price if the need is great, and Lucius has been known to allow this, in order to advance the fiction that the Minister is not on his payroll."
It did not bode well for the magical world in general, Harry thought, if such a thing was allowed not only to occur, but also to continue in such a manner. Leaving such an obviously corrupt and self-centered man in a position of such power was beyond reprehensible. Why would anyone want to save a world which was so incredibly backward and biased was beyond his understanding.
"I can't believe they would simply leave him in power if they know what a poor minister he is," Harry said with a shake of his head, voicing his inner thoughts.
"Ah, but is it not exactly the same in the Muggle world?" Dumbledore asked rhetorically. "How many rulers have been petty despots who ruled only to enrich themselves, or satisfy some quest for power? How many have been corrupt? I think you will find history rich with such subjects, Harry, though I will grant you that magical England does seem to be in dire straits at the moment."
"There is no reason to save this world, unless we change it," Harry said after a moment of thought. "We are all risking our lives, and for what? So that the next dark lord can come along and do the same thing all over again? I don't know about anyone else in this room, but I am not willing to risk my life just so that I can do it all over again in twenty or thirty years."
"An admirable goal," Jean-Sebastian replied, his face shining with some pride. "You have hit on the crux of the problem, Harry. But remember that changing the world is not as easy as you would like."
At Harry's questioning expression, Jean-Sebastian sighed and continued. "Tradition and custom are very important in the magical world, and as you have seen with the Pureblood faction in particular, respect for one's ancestors—assuming your ancestors are who you want them to be—is paramount. You cannot simply ignore centuries of tradition in your quest to change the world—those traditions must be respected."
"And as such," Dumbledore took up the explanation, "you must find a way not only to reform the government and the attitudes of the populace, but you must also do so while respecting the traditions of the people. This is precisely why so many Purebloods look down on Muggleborns; they bring new—and what the conservatives consider radical—ideas with them, and often they give no thought to many of the things which we consider dear to us."
"That's actually one of Hermione's failings, Harry," Fleur spoke up in a quiet voice. He turned to look at her and she looked away shyly, clearly concerned that he would take this as a criticism of his closest friend. "She often doesn't understand things about the magical world, and so she just assumes it's just an old tradition and tries to convince everyone that there's a better way to do it. There may be a better way, but there may also be reasons why something hasn't changed, or why things they are the way they are. Her opinions about house-elves were a very good example of this, until I explained the relationship between house-elves and wizards and the reason why they bond with their families."
It made a certain sort of sense to Harry and, while he could not think immediately of any examples, he felt positive that there must be some way to bridge the gap and change the magical world to a more tolerant society, while respecting the traditions which were so important to the Purebloods. It would bear some thought and after all, he had time—he was still only fifteen.
He looked around the room and noted that most of those in attendance were looking at him to see how he would respond. He was struck by the sudden epiphany that he was the only one in attendance who had not been raised in the magical world. Certainly he had a magical heritage from his father, but everyone else in the room had actually been raised in a magical household and as such, they were likely all talking about things which were important to them. It was a humbling thought—many of those he thought highly of would likely support reforms which would remove the prejudices of the world, but they still did not wish to see their world completely disappear, replaced by one which bore only a cursory resemblance to that which they knew and loved. Even Jean-Sebastian and his family, though they were from a different land, fit into this mold as France, they had assured him, had its own share of problems which could be eased by a more progressive attitude.
Harry was filled with determination. He was not certain what part he was to play in this war or in the aftermath, but he was the vaunted Boy-Who-Lived, and surely that fame and celebrity must count for something other than making his life miserable. It would be his life's mission to ensure that things did change in the magical world, but that those things which were cherished by the people he loved would be protected.
"I understand, sir," Harry said with conviction, while squeezing Fleur's hand, which was held in his own, to show her that he took no offense at her words concerning his best friend. "I don't know exactly why I'm important to Voldemort. But I do understand that he keeps hounding me. I am willing to oppose him, but changes need to be made to make sure that another dark lord doesn't show up to take his place, and with the Malfoys of the world spreading their message of hate, that's what will happen if we leave things as they are. I understand that there are things which are important to all of you, and I would like to see those things protected. We will need to work together to get it right."
Smiles beamed around the room and Harry was relieved that apparently he had gotten it right. The support and approbation of these people meant the world to him—it felt good to have people who loved him standing at his back and supporting him in whatever he did.
"Very good indeed, Harry," Dumbledore rumbled as he pulled off his glasses and wiped at his eyes. "I would have you know that I have no talent whatsoever in divination, and I am no seer, but I believe that I can say with conviction that you will one day be among the leaders of our world, and I daresay you will do us all proud."
"Thank you sir," Harry said softly, grateful for the Headmaster's approbation. He quietly caught the eyes of both Sirius and Jean-Sebastian, and they both nodded at him, which made feel all that much better.
"I guess the question is, what can we do now?"
Harry's question silenced the group for several moments as they all considered the situation. It was, perhaps unsurprisingly, Madam Bones who first spoke up.
"Now that I know the truth of the Dark Lord's return, I can begin to put measures into place. I can increase patrols and if any Death Eater falls into my hands, I can pump him full of Veritaserum to obtain the truth. The Minister would find it hard to dismiss evidence like that."
"The fact remains, however, that without a strong Minister, this fight will be very difficult indeed," Dumbledore said. "We must find a way to either find enough votes to have him removed, or find some other way to dismiss him."
"And in so doing, keep to the law." Madam Bones fixed Dumbledore with a pointed stare. "We will not stoop to Fudge's or—Merlin forbid!—Malfoy's level. If we do, then we are no better than they are."
"I perfectly agree, Madam," Dumbledore said with a bow.
"As do I," added Jean-Sebastian. "However, I believe it is very late and we will not solve this dilemma this evening. I suggest we all seek our beds and continue this on another occasion."
A chorus of agreement met Jean-Sebastian's declaration—Harry had not realized just how late it was, and a glance at the clock revealed that it was now several hours after midnight. As if to punctuate the statement, Fleur had to stifle a great yawn and Harry, as such things were wont to spread, felt one approaching as well.
Madam Bones chuckled and rose to her feet. "Thank you for keeping Susan tonight, Ambassador—I appreciate not having to wake her to go home."
"It is a pleasure, Madam. I believe that she gets along well with the others in residence—if it would be easier for you, we would be happy to host her until they return to Hogwarts."
Appearing to consider it, Madam Bones nodded thoughtfully. "In truth, because she is now in Hogwarts for ten months of the year, I see little enough of her as it is. But as tomorrow is likely to be busy, I may take you up for the day and then pick her up in the evening. We will keep in touch concerning the investigation into last night's events. I doubt we will find anything more, but it cannot hurt to be thorough."
"Of course. Just let me know what you intend to do."
After a final round of good-byes, Dumbledore and Madam Bones stepped through the Floo and vanished from the manor, leaving Sirius, Harry, and the three Delacours behind. Tired as he was, Harry did not protest in the slightest when Jean-Sebastian directed he and Fleur to go to their beds.
Harry walked his betrothed to her room, keeping her hand held tightly ensconced within his own, happy with the feeling of closeness which had developed between them.
They had just arrived at Fleur's door, when the French witch turned shyly to him and pressed a light kiss on his lips. "Thank you for protecting me tonight, Harry. You took no thought to your own safety—that means a great deal to me, though I do wish you would develop a small sense of self-preservation." She grinned. "I would like you to make it to our wedding, after all."
"I promised myself that you will be kept safe," Harry murmured in response. "I mean to keep that promise."
"Thank you. But remember—I'm here for you too. And I promise to keep you safe too."
"Then it's a pact," Harry replied. His eyes trended downward to her perfect lips. He leaned in and as he was brushing her lips with his own, he murmured, "We'll just have to protect one another."
Exhausted, Harry entered his room and quickly readied himself for bed, hoping against hope that the evening spent reliving the night Cedric had died would not continue in his dreams. With any luck, they would instead consist of a beautiful, smiling girl, with lips soft and tender, begging to be kissed.
Updated 07/23/2013