Chapter 14

Harry Is Different Now

Two death eaters stood a few feet behind Severus Snape, who muttered continuously as he waved his wand in front of him. Standing deep within the Forbidden Forest, the three had determined exactly where the wards around Hogwarts Castle extended. Just a few feet in front of them, an invisible barrier prevented them from proceeding forward. When they tried, they found themselves suddenly walking in the opposite direction, almost imperceptibly.

Snape spent at least half an hour trying spell after spell on the wards, apparently attempting both to determine exactly what type of wards had been utilized and how to overcome them. In reality, however, he primarily intended to lull his "comrades" into a bored stupor. His opportunity had arrived, and he could not count on another.

"How much longer, Snape?" asked one of the pair sharply, a bearded young Irishman who weighed nearly three hundred pounds. He leaned against the trunk of a large tree, hands behind his head.

"Silence!" Snape snarled, as he so often did, "I must concentrate." He continued to face away from the pair, his black robe and hair fluttering in a soft breeze.

The portly death eater glanced as his partner, an older wizard with long greying hair, and the two rolled their eyes. Snape always exaggerated his importance in the dark lord's hierarchy, at least in their opinion, but they also recognized his talents. The second death eater finally found a patch of grass, and sat down, leaning back on his two hands. Snape continued muttering.

Suddenly the two men slumped to the ground in unconsciousness. Snape lowered his wand, having just whirled around to cast two silent stupefy spells to knock out his companions. He caught the pair completely unawares. Stepping forward, he prodded each man with his foot to assure the effectiveness of the spells.

Now he needed to think. Waving his wand casually, he conjured a wooden chair, and sat down. At last he could escape from service to Voldemort, but he could not merely turn himself in to the Ministry or even the Order of the Phoenix. To them, he remained a traitor to be arrested on sight, and if it turned out that deadly force would be required to subdue him, nobody would shed a tear.

He recognized his only chance - Potter. And Weasley and Granger. If he could contact them, he might be able to explain. Maybe. Of course, Potter might also attempt to blast him into orbit, but that was a risk he would have to run. His primary problem for the moment would be how to evade both the dark lord and the Ministry until he could find Potter. The dark lord may not have concerned himself with the defection of a lowly soldier such as Draco Malfoy, but Snape knew that his betrayal would not be overlooked. He still had a day to make himself scarce, and to hope that the dark lord did not have any means to locate him. Snape knew much about the former Tom Riddle, but he also knew that the dark lord retained many secrets.

First things first, however. Snape glared at the two death eaters strewn before him. He could not allow them to report back to the dark lord, for he needed as much time as possible to escape. For a moment, he thought back to his mentor, Albus Dumbledore, and considered what the headmaster would do in this situation. Probably he would just leave them there, allowing them to return to Voldemort's side, not worrying about it for a second. But of course there was one huge difference between Dumbledore and Snape. Albus Dumbledore did not fear Lord Voldemort.

I am not Albus Dumbledore, Snape thought. Sneering at the fallen pair, he lifted his wand again and twice uttered the same spell.

"AVADA KEDAVRA."

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"Are you sure you want to go through with this, Will? It's now or never."

Now well past midnight, the proof copy of the next morning's Daily Prophet lay before William Oglesby and his old colleague on top of a cluttered work table. Around them, a beehive of workers scurried about packing up equipment and tools, shouting instructions back and forth. Oglesby heard none of it. Instead he focused on every word of his interview with Harry Potter. If he approved it, the presses would start cranking out copies immediately. The owls would leave in the early morning hours, delivering copies to subscribers. He knew that Minister Scrimgeour counted among that group and would suffer a nasty surprise over his morning orange juice. After that, who knew?

After he finished the last word, he lifted his head and stared at the ceiling. Should he or should he not? We've come too far, he thought. Slowly he lowered his head and turned towards his senior editor.

"Go with it."

His old friend smirked and patted William on the back, chuckling as he commented, "That's what I wanted to hear, Will." The editor grabbed the proof copy and rushed out of the room, yelling at the top of his voice, "WE'RE GOING WITH IT!"

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Harry Potter did not always look a person in the eye, but at certain times, Hermione learned over the years, he could stare into a person's eyes for minutes at a time. The two friends experienced several such moments over the years of their friendship - before Harry entered the chamber with the Philosopher's Stone, before saving Sirius, before he confronted the dragon during the Tri-wizard Tournament. Once again, they experienced another such moment.

Hermione almost felt guilty about bringing up the subject of the locket. Rarely had she seen Harry in such a jovial mood, stepping lightly along the streets of her home town. She felt his light-heartedness through his hand, which continued to hold hers until they finally reached the restaurant that she had previously indicated. Optimism almost. Apparently, the interview with the editor of the Daily Prophet somehow energized Harry, and Hermione hated to bring him back to earth.

At first, as the waitress showed them to their table, she could not. She figured it could wait until they had enjoyed their pie and tea. While waiting, Harry calmed down, and managed to fill Hermione in on the interview. He detailed much of his wanderings while on the run from the Ministry, even a fictionalized version of his escape from Evan Harrington in Liverpool. The interview finished with some biting comments about the Minister of Magic. If Scrimgeour had not considered Harry to be an enemy before, this interview would seal the deal.

The two friends quieted when their pies arrived, cherry for Hermione, French apple for Harry, and they contemplated the effect of the upcoming article. Finally a subdued Harry broke the silence.

"Everything's going to be different after tomorrow. It may be time for me to go, but I'm not sure where."

"I know where," answered Hermione, thankful to be given such a segue, "Grimmauld Place, at least for awhile." Harry's head jerked at the mention of his home, inherited by him from his godfather just a year earlier. Number 12 Grimmauld Place would be the last place he would want to go. Everyone agreed that the mansion could no longer be considered safe.

Hermione commenced her explanation of Ron's revelation about the locket that would not open. Harry remembered the incident well, and half way through Hermione's monologue, he understood. It had to be a horcrux. RAB, the initials on the note with the fake locket, had to refer to Regulus Black, he quickly deduced. They could verify his middle initial later, if necessary, but it simply HAD to be. It all made sense.

He allowed Hermione to finish the story without interruption, but little by little, his eyes focused on hers, as they had done in the past when the two of them faced critical moments. The discovery of a horcrux met the criteria. When after nearly five minutes Hermione stopped talking, Harry did not immediately respond, merely allowing his eyes to bore into Hermione's.

Despite the severity of the moment, Hermione could not help but marvel at the intense green of her friend's eyes, seemingly more intense than ever before. Hermione often looked into people's eyes, but after a minute of gazing into Harry's, she finally had to avert them. When she broke the connection, Harry moved his head as well, as if it had been stuck before.

"It's so obvious," he finally muttered softly, "Why didn't we think about it before?" Hermione nodded but did not answer. She could see his eyes darting back and forth, reflecting the feverous activity of his brain. "Ron will want to be there," he finally concluded, "Ginny too. Since he figured it out, and she helped, we should all be there. We'll go tomorrow." Hermione nodded, and the two friends made plans.

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As normal, Rufus Scrimgeour rose at half past five the next morning, pulling on a plain brown morning robe. Now a widower, he lived alone in the family home, a large but unpretentious single story structure. Though comfortably situated, riches never interested the Minister of Magic, and he shunned the magnificently ostentatious mansions of the Malfoys and their ilk.

Making his way towards the ample kitchen, he nodded to his house elf, Oscar, busily preparing breakfast. Oscar, an elderly elf which had served the Scrimgeour family for as long as anyone could remember, had already placed the morning Daily Prophet before the Minister's chair, right next to his morning mug of coffee and glass of orange juice. Scrimgeour briefly placed the mug to his lips, and set it back down, grabbing the paper and flicking it open.

A file photograph of Harry Potter greeted him, taken at Dumbledore's funeral. Potter apparently did not realize that his picture was being taken, and he looked off to the left, a serious, determined expression on his face. To his right, a portion of two heads could be seen, a boy with red hair and a girl with bushy brown hair, but their faces did not appear.

Scrimgeour slowly stood as he read the headline and quickly scanned the article.

MINISTRY CHASES THE CHOSEN ONE

by WILLIAM OGLESBY

Editor in Chief

For the past fortnight, the Ministry of Magic has attempted to arrest Harry Potter, the "Boy Who Lived," apparently without charge, resulting in a nationwide chase for the seventeen-year-old wizard. Such is the story related by Harry Potter himself, related to this reporter in a lengthy interview conducted yesterday evening.

"I noticed that I was being followed by someone when I was staying with my Aunt and Uncle in Surrey, and eventually I determined that it had to be someone from the Ministry," claimed Mr. Potter, in the interview conducted at a secret location in Liverpool. Finally convincing himself of the danger in allowing himself to be arrested, and completely confused as to why the Ministry would seek to do such a thing, Mr. Potter decided to abandon his home approximately two weeks before his seventeenth birthday of July 31.

He traveled by muggle means, boarding a train in Little Whinging and making his first stop in Liverpool, where he hid for several days. Believing that he had slipped the watchful eye of the Ministry, he discovered to his horror that a man from the Ministry, apparently an auror, somehow tracked him to the port city. Mr. Potter still is not sure whether the auror spotted him or not, but the young wizard hastily retreated to his hotel room, gathered his belongings, and apparated away.

Chastened by the close call, Mr. Potter took greater care over the next days, traveling often and only by muggle transportation. He often purchased train tickets for a specific destination, only to abandon the train at an intermediary city. He changed his appearance and has managed to avoid the Ministry thus far.

Mr. Potter suspected that even his friends were being watched in the belief that he would attempt to contact them. This in fact turned out to be true, as Mr. Potter eventually made his way to Essex in an attempt to contact one of his best friends. Taking great care, he determined that the house of his friend was being watched. Eventually he surreptitiously contacted his friend, but at some point the Ministry must have spotted him, despite his disguise, for once again, Mr. Potter beat a hasty retreat when he realized that a different auror followed him.

Finally he decided to go public with his strange tale, secretly making contact with the Daily Prophet. Mr. Potter briefly returned to Liverpool for the interview, but informed this reporter that he would be leaving the city immediately thereafter.

"I just want this to end," Mr. Potter explained, "I don't know what I have done to deserve this. I can only guess that Minister Scrimgeour is behind this. Twice he has asked me to be the 'poster boy' for the Ministry, but twice I refused. This is the type of man the Minister is, willing to break the law if it serves his purpose. Instead of trying to defeat (You Know Who), he's wasting time and manpower trying to arrest me, who hasn't done anything. I'm going public in the hope that the Ministry will stop this insane chase. I just want to go back to being a normal person."

Scrimgeour did not bother reading the last paragraphs of the article. He threw the paper on the table and rushed to his bedroom to throw on his clothes and robe. Hastily returning to the kitchen, he stuffed the newspaper into the pocket of his robe.

"I must leave early today," he tersely informed Oscar, who stared serenely as his master. The elderly house elf had often seen Scrimgeour rush out of the house early, so he did not betray any surprise. Moments later the Minister stepped into a fireplace to floo to the secured fireplace of the Minister of Magic's office.

Immediately he yelled for someone to come in, but soon he realized that at six in the morning, nobody had yet arrived. Glancing once again at the Prophet article, he audibly growled, and grabbed a handful of floo powder, thinking that he would call on his ministers himself. Before tossing the grains into the fire, however, he wavered. Maybe he should think this through before issuing orders. He threw the powder into the fireplace.

"Harrison Manor," he spoke quietly, allowing a second to pass before thrusting his head into the flames. A moment later, his eyes viewed the elegant sitting room of the mansion of his old friend and informal advisor, Jeremiah Harrison. The Minister expected to shout to attract the attention of one of Harrison's staff of house elves, as he usually did, only to find that his friend sat serenely on the sofa facing the fireplace. Harrison had already dressed, despite the early hour, holding the morning Prophet in his hand. Clearly he expected a visit from his old friend.

"Hello, Rufus," he greeted the Minister, "I'll come right along." He stood and stepped towards the fireplace.

"Thank you, Jeremiah, just wait a few seconds."

Scrimgeour pulled himself out of the fireplace and back into his office. Quickly standing, he waved his wand at the flames, silently casting the password which would allow Jeremiah Harrison to floo directly to the office. Seconds later, Harrison stepped gracefully out of the fireplace, flicking a few ashes off of his robe.

"I thought you would call, Rufus, as soon as I saw it." He flipped his Daily Prophet onto the low mahogany table positioned near the fireplace. "I've feared that word about Potter would leak, but I never imagined that Potter himself would perform the task. It's a brilliant move. Especially when Oglesby asks the wizarding world to react."

"He what?" Rufus grunted, "I didn't read . . ." Harrison knew his friend well, and already had the newspaper opened to the final paragraphs of Oglesby's article. Scrimgeour always lacked the patience to read an article all the way through, a habit Harrison had often noted and criticized over the years. Scrimgeour grabbed the paper and quickly read the paragraph to which Harrison pointed.

The reader may well ask, if the Minister of Magic is capable of arresting a mere boy, just turned seventeen years of age, without charge or apparent justification, of what more may the Minister be capable? Rumors already abound of the Minister's intentions to limit our freedoms. Freedom of the Press. Freedom of Speech. What other freedoms are we willing to cede in times of strife? Use your owls wisely, wizards and witches, and let the Minister know your opinions.

Scrimgeour blanched and gently set the newspaper down. No doubt the owls would begin to arrive shortly, full of outrage and venom. Today would be the worst day of his reign as Minister of Magic, and it may very well be his last if he did not deal with this crisis forcefully and decisively.

"What do you propose, Jeremiah?

His old friend stood and paced back and forth in front of the fireplace, carefully composing a response.

"I see two options. You can deny Potter's story. No evidence can be produced to prove it; it's all based on his word. If you forcefully deny it and assert that this is nothing more than a misunderstanding, many will not believe you, but you may create enough doubt to save your job. Of course, you will have no choice but to leave the boy alone." Which is what you should have done in the first place, he refrained from adding.

Scrimgeour scowled at this option. How could Jeremiah expect him to surrender so completely?

"The second option is to proceed with all haste with your plan. Taking control of the press, declaring Martial Law, forcibly moving all wizards and witches to defensible locations. This story, however, will make implementation of your plans exponentially more difficult."

The Minister quickly calculated all of the ramifications of this second option, which he greatly preferred on a gut level. One does not rule with one's gut, however, and he immediately realized that embracing the second option would only lead to further disaster. Currently he enjoyed the support of a significant portion of the public, and for his plan to work, he needed to retain that base. Potter, however, frankly enjoyed much greater popularity, and taking option two would in essence verify the boy's story. Scrimgeour's popularity would vanish, and he could not hope to accomplish his plan. He likely would be deposed by either legal or illegal means. Both were known to have occurred over the centuries.

"I have to deny it. It's my only hope."

Harrison expelled a sigh of relief, releasing the worry that his stubborn friend would fail to see the writing on the wall. This situation called for a strategic retreat.

"You still have your wits about you, Rufus. I thought you might not be willing to swallow your pride. Potter has won this round, but the game is far from finished." Scrimgeour frowned but nodded his agreement. This would be a most unpleasant day, but he resolved that he would live to fight another.

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"Bloody Hell!"

"Arthur!" admonished Molly Weasley, "Really!"

"Sorry, Molly," Arthur Weasley quickly apologized for his uncharacteristic outburst, "but it's Harry. He's on the front page of the Prophet. Look!"

Molly tossed a dish towel on the counter and rushed from the kitchen to the table where Arthur had just seated himself for his normal early breakfast. The two silently and rapidly read William Oglesby's account of the interview with Harry. When Arthur finally reached the end, he shook his head and a smile formed on his face.

"Brilliant," he opined, "Absolutely brilliant. Harry couldn't have possibly come up with a better plan. The owls are probably already arriving. Scrimgeour will have no choice. He'll have to back off. If he doesn't, he'll lose what support his has. Brilliant!"

Arthur generally saw the bright side of things, but Molly suffered from perpetual pessimism, always worrying for the safety of her children and those that she loved.

"I don't know, Arthur. Scrimgeour's going to be terribly upset by this. He'll want to arrest Harry more than ever." Molly slowly sat as she continued to examine Harry's picture, as if she might discover a clue in it.

"Not if he wants to keep his job," Arthur responded confidently, "and believe me, Scrimgeour wants to keep his job. There's nothing more important to him. Sure, he'll be mad as an offended hippogriff, but he'll have to leave Harry alone, at least for awhile."

Molly and Arthur jumped when out of the blue they heard a knock on the side door just a few feet away. Both automatically grasped their wands and stood.

"It's me, Hermione," they heard from outside, "I just saw the Daily Prophet, and I had to come over."

Molly rushed to open the door and greeted Hermione with a typical bear hug, and finally she saw the bright side of the Prophet article.

"Yes, Harry's OK. At least we know he's OK. It's such a relief." Molly breathed in deeply, finally allowing that basic fact to sink in.

"That's what I thought too," Hermione agreed with a smile, "Are Ron and Ginny up yet? I know I'm terribly early."

"I'm up," a groggy Ginny announced as she appeared from the stairwell tying her red and blue bath robe, her bare legs visible below, "What is everyone talking about? Why are you here, Hermione?" Molly handed the newspaper to her, and Ginny's eyes quickly scanned down the article.

"Thank Merlin, they haven't caught him, and he's OK," she whispered, reflecting the sentiment of her mother and friend.

"Ron should know too. Can you wake him, Ginny?" Hermione suggested. The true reason for her visit, of course, had nothing to do with the Daily Prophet article.

Ten minutes later, Hermione and Ginny sat quietly in Ron's room while Ron, still in his pajamas, finished reading the article. When he arrived at the end, his lips formed a grin.

"Wicked!" he exclaimed, "Scrimgeour's going to be scratching pixie bites after this."

Hermione paused for a second, never having heard that particular wizarding phrase, but she ignored it, pushing ahead. Already she had placed a silencing charm on the door.

"Look, that's not why I'm here," she explained, "It was just a good excuse. I told Harry about the locket. We are going to Grimmauld today." Ron and Ginny looked at each other, not exactly understanding who would be included. Did the "we" refer to them as well. Hermione sensed their confusion. "Harry wants you there too. That's why I'm here, to make arrangements. When and where should we meet."

After they set a time and place and agreed upon other details, Hermione moved towards the door, intending to return to her home and then to meet Harry. She paused however, finishing an internal debate. Since she returned to her home the previous evening after leaving Harry, she argued with herself. Should she tell Ginny or not? If so, how much should she disclose? Finally she decided.

"Ginny, can I talk to you in your room for a minute. Sorry, Ron, but it's girl talk."

Ron and Ginny both found Hermione's request odd. This hardly seemed the time for "girl talk," but Ron knew he had no right to object.

"You can stay here if you want. I'm going downstairs for breakfast." He felt slightly put out by being asked to leave, but he slid his feet into slippers and made his way out, closing the door behind him. Hermione reapplied the silencing spell to the door. Ginny stared at her nervously, wondering what may have happened to Harry that would cause the need for a private chat.

For her part, Hermione fretted over her decision to disclose even partial information to Ginny. After all, Harry and Ginny's relationship belonged to them, and she should not interfere, but ultimately she determined that it would be better that Ginny have some idea of what had happened over the past weeks, to help her prepare and adjust. She bit her bottom lip, hoping she made the right decision.

"Ginny, I just thought you should know something that happened to Harry," Hermione ambiguously began, pausing ominously. Ginny did not reply but gave her friend her undivided attention. Hermione could think of no delicate way to explain.

"Harry met a girl," she sighed, "In Liverpool."

Ginny did not react outwardly, but inside her stomach suddenly churned. She remained silent.

"She was a muggle, an old school mate from Little Whinging. They just happened to bump into each other, completely unexpected, and they spent a day or so together. I don't really know what happened; I just know that Harry knew that he couldn't start anything serious with her, for obvious reasons, but I think he would have liked to." She glanced again at Ginny for any reaction, but she remained stone-faced. "I could tell that he was pretty broken up about it, but I think he's more or less over it, with everything else that's been happening. I don't want to interfere with whatever is going on between Harry and you, but I thought you should know."

The news hit Ginny like a troll's club, and Hermione could sense that the younger witch exerted great effort to control her expression. Of all the things that Hermione could have told her, this had to hurt the most. True, Harry had broken up with her after Dumbledore's funeral, but Ginny did not consider that to be a true termination of their relationship, but a temporary hiatus until Harry completed his destiny. Certainly Ginny would not have hooked up with a boy just a month afterwards. What did this mean?

Ginny knew she needed to respond, so quietly she murmured, "Thanks for telling me, Hermione. What was her name?"

"Melissa. I don't know her last name or anything else about her. Harry only talked about it once, and I haven't pried. I could see that he really liked her though. She's very pretty, I guess"

"I'm sure she is," Ginny commented absently, "What do you think I should do?" For the first time, Hermione could hear a quavering in Ginny's voice.

"Nothing right now, Ginny. Maybe I should have waited to tell you, but we're going after a horcrux today. That has to be the most important thing. You're going to be seeing Harry soon, for the first time since June, and I thought you should be aware. You need to be prepared. Harry is different now; everything is different. But don't tell Harry that I told you. His mood is pretty volatile right now. He goes from one extreme to another in a matter of seconds. He can be a little scary sometimes."

Neither girl spoke for several moments, and Hermione knew that she needed to leave. She felt satisfied that she had disclosed only the minimum required to put Ginny on notice. Certainly, she had no right to relate Harry's comment that he no longer loved Ginny, and she saw no reason to mention the hand-holding of the previous evening. After all, that merely resulted from the change in his personality on his seventeenth birthday.

"I'm sorry, Ginny; I wish I didn't have to tell you. I need to get back. We'll see you soon." Ginny nodded, and the two girls briefly embraced before Hermione turned away to leave.

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After a restless night, Evan Harrington anxiously awaited his Daily Prophet, and he nodded his head approvingly as he perused the article. He might have changed a few items and maybe added a few more barbs directed at the Minister of Magic, but all in all, the article should do the trick.

Theoretically, he remained assigned to the task of locating and arresting Harry Potter, but for the past couple of days he had invented reports out of whole cloth. His information placed Harry in several cities throughout Britain, now possibly in Manchester. As far as anyone at the office knew, Evan stayed the night in Manchester or some other city, when in reality he enjoyed a night in his own bed. Any time now, he expected to receive an owl from the Ministry ordering him back, and a series of frantic meetings would follow. He held out little doubt that by the end of the day, he would be reassigned to a different mission.

Then he would have to make some decisions.