Chapter 32
You're Brilliant, Mr. Granger
The arrival of an owl destroyed the intended plans for the day. Just a minute after Harry and Hermione emerged from the Granger's small home office, they heard an owl tapping at the window of the dining room. Hermione quickly slid the window open, and the owl hopped through, and with two more flaps of its wings landed on Harry's shoulder.
He lifted the large grey bird off of his shoulders, and the owl turned on the back of his hand so that the letter tied to its leg faced Harry. He gently set it down on a counter top and removed the parchment envelope. The owl spread its wings for a second, but remained, apparently having been instructed to await a response.
Ginny and Ron were upstairs at the moment, but Evan and Hermione, as well as Mr. and Mrs. Granger witnessed Harry opening the letter. Within seconds his countenance darkened ten shades, and Mrs. Granger shuddered for a moment. Quite clearly this quiet, friendly young man had a different side to him.
Harry read the note twice, setting his jaw in an expression of pure anger. He looked blankly at a wall, oblivious to the presence of the others, including two muggles. His hand slowly formed into a fist, the parchment crunching under his fingers.
"What is it, Harry?" Hermione asked softly but with great concern. She realized all too well that her parents were witnessing one of Harry's violent mood swings. Why couldn't that owl have waited ten more minutes, she thought anxiously.
"They have Draco," he murmured softly, pausing for a second, "And they have Pettigrew." He spat out the last name with a special disdain.
Hermione gasped quietly and took the crumpled letter from Harry's hand, quickly reading it before handing it to Evan.
Harry:
The Order has captured Draco Malfoy and Peter Pettigrew. They are being held by us in a secure location. We will make them available to you for questioning if you wish. Send a return owl. I will meet you wherever you want and bring you here.
Remus
Mr. Granger observed the reactions of his daughter and the two wizards closely, but he did not seem especially surprised. He peered at Harry intently.
Hermione neared Harry carefully, and she could feel anger emanating from his body. She placed a hand on his tense shoulder.
"What do you want to do, Harry?"
He turned towards her, and it happened. His eyes glowed bright and green, clearly seen by Mr. and Mrs. Granger. Mrs. Granger screamed and Mr. Granger nearly jumped out of his shoes.
"It's OK, mum," Hermione assured them quickly, "Harry's eyes do that sometimes. It doesn't mean anything." She held her breath that her parents would simply believe her and leave it at that. No such luck.
"I think we need to talk, Harry," Mr. Granger declared, stepping forward and standing about an inch taller than Harry. "I know more about you than my wife and daughter think. Hermione is not the only one who reads the Daily Prophet when she is staying in the house. Up to now I haven't asked these questions, but now I think we deserve some answers."
"Dad," Hermione intervened desperately, "Not now. I'll explain later."
"I know that you are called, 'The Chosen One,' or 'The Boy Who Lived.' I know that somebody they call 'You Know Who' or "He Who Must Not Be Named" seems to have something to do with you. Now before, even though I knew you were Hermione's friend, I did not think that this was any of my business. But things seem different now. I believe we deserve an explanation."
Hermione fretted at her father's inquiry, trying again to derail him, "I'll explain, dad, but now is not a good time."
"Actually, now is an excellent time," Harry interrupted, then turning towards Mr. Granger, "I understand your concern. You should be concerned. What do you want to know?"
Mr. Granger arched an eyebrow, surprised at the ease with which Harry apparently agreed. He raised his left arm, indicating that they should move into the sitting room.
"Who is this 'You Know Who,' and what do you have to do with him?"
"Dad, Harry can't answer that," Hermione interrupted again pleadingly, "There are some things that . . . ."
"'You Know Who' is what most of that magical world calls a wizard named Tom Riddle, who later changed his name to Lord Voldemort," Harry explained easily, cutting off Hermione's nervous attempt to head off her father, "He is what we call a 'dark lord,' an evil wizard steeped in dark magic. He is trying to take control of the wizarding world. We are trying to stop him."
Hermione cringed at Harry's straight-forward explanation. She had worked hard to shield her parents from this information, and now it appeared that Harry intended to lay it all out for them.
"But why do you have to fight this Voldemort fellow? Doesn't your Ministry have forces able to defeat him?"
"Simply put, no. There is a lot more to the story, Mr. Granger. Lord Voldemort killed my mother and father when I was a baby. He tried to kill me too, but that didn't work out so well for him."
"That's how Harry got his scar," Hermione added, deciding that she may as well help Harry with the story, "His mother's sacrifice saved him."
They spent the next fifteen minutes providing an abridged version of Harry's life and the situation in which they currently found themselves. They did not go into all the gory details (he never mentioned dementors, for example), but Mr. and Mrs. Granger could easily gather the danger that their only daughter faced during her six years at Hogwarts
Mr. Granger turned to Hermione, unsure of whether he should berate her for placing herself into so many life-threatening situations or compliment her on her bravery and selflessness. Before he could speak, however, Harry anticipated his concerns.
"It's all because of me, Mr. Granger. I am the subject of the prophecy; it is my destiny to kill or be killed. Hermione and Ron have been with me every step of the way because they won't abandon me. If I could do it alone, I would, but I can't do it without them. We've never been . . . romantically involved until, well, until just yesterday as a matter of fact." He smile weakly and glanced at Ginny, who had joined the group some time earlier. She did not react to his statement.
"So what is that cup that I've seen you with?" asked Mrs. Granger, who had remained silent through most of the conversation, "It seems to be important to you."
Up until this point, Harry and Hermione had avoided mention of the term "horcrux." Harry truly did not wish to inform the parents of his new girlfriend that he had absorbed a couple of pieces of the soul of the dark lord and that his personality had changed as a result. Not exactly the type of thing parents of a young woman like to hear.
"I need to destroy that cup," he tried to explain, "It has dark magic in it, placed there by Lord Voldemort himself. It's hard to explain, but we have to destroy it in a way that will release that dark magic."
Dark magic? In an old silver cup? The Grangers had managed to follow along well enough until now, but this made no sense. The looked at each other in complete confusion.
"Mum and dad, it's extremely important that we destroy the cup. I know it seems bizarre, but it has to be done before Voldemort can be destroyed. It's dark magic that even we don't really understand. We planned to try to figure out the right way to destroy it today."
Mr. Granger continued to look perplexed, but the assurance of his daughter convinced him that it must be true. He glanced back at Harry.
"Can I look at it?"
Harry saw no reason why not, so he climbed the stairs to retrieve it from the guest room. Mr. Granger took it in his hands and examined it. Quite old, clearly, but a relatively soft silver he knew from his work as a dentist.
"Can't you just melt it down?" he asked, now intrigued by the challenge, "It should not be difficult with the right equipment."
"We're pretty sure that we can't destroy it that way. The dark magic would prevent it," Harry replied. "We also don't think smashing it will release the dark magic either. We need to think of some other way."
The assembled crowd silently observed Mr. Granger holding the cup. They can't melt it; they can't smash it. What can they do?
"Why don't you cut it up then?" he suggested logically, "The right type of saw wouldn't have any trouble with this." He held the cup up a foot.
Harry's eyes widened in shock. Just as he knew that Hagrid's suggestion of fire would destroy the trophy, he knew that slicing and dicing Hufflepuff's cup would also do the trick.
"You're brilliant, Mr. Granger," he asserted, still half in shock, "That's it. I can feel it. Brilliant."
The others had learned to respect Harry's instincts in these matters, and they all took a step or two towards Mr. Granger who continued to hold the cup.
"Where can we find a saw that would be able to cut through it?" asked Ron, "Or should we use some sort of severing spell?
Harry took the cup from Mr. Granger and held it in both of his hands. He knew that the one constant in each of the other horcruxes involved a personal attack by him.
"I have a band saw in the office in a back room. Sometimes I use it for projects around the house, but we don't have room to store it here," Mr. Granger commented, "It should be able to cut soft silver like this. It's cut a lot harder things." Harry considered the offer.
"Let's give it a try. If it doesn't work, then I'll have to do it myself. But later." He saw the owl patiently awaiting him on the counter in the kitchen. Narrowing his eyes, he told them, "First I have to pay a visit to some old friends. Do you have a piece of paper?"
xxxx xxxx xxxx xxxx
"You're kidding me!"
"No, it's true. They're being moved out of the Ministry holding cells right now, then on to undisclosed locations. About twenty-five of them."
Arthur Weasley could hardly believe the gossip rocketing through the Ministry when he arrived early for work. Voldemort had attacked Hogwarts, but a force of aurors later attacked the death eaters, catching them unprepared. They captured almost the whole bunch of them. Only You Know Who and a few others escaped.
An energy infused the Ministry with the extraordinarily good news, the first truly positive news in months. Noone knew the exact size of the dark lord's forces, but without a doubt, the loss of twenty-five foot soldiers would greatly debilitate his strength. If nothing else, it would delay his attempt to take power. Certainly nobody believed that he would pack up his tent and leave, but the wizarding world may have earned some breathing space.
Scrimgeour exulted in his office. He could hardly believe the news that trickled back from Hogwarts. First a young auror, on his first mission of any note, proudly delivered the stunned bodies of the six death eaters captured at Hagrid's burning cabin. When a couple of long hours later the bodies of about twenty more began to arrive, the Minister felt giddy with joy.
Unfortunately he no longer exerted influence over the Daily Prophet, and in any event, the news happened too late for it to be included in the morning edition, but the Ministry now controlled all other press outlets. Photographers memorialized all aspects of the evening, both at Hogwarts and at the Ministry, including many photographs of the proudly victorious Minister. When the news finally would reached the public, his approval rating would shoot through the roof.
Even more importantly, he immediately decided that the plan to occupy Hogwarts and forcibly transfer the magical public to the castle grounds could be shelved indefinitely. Clearly, You Know Who's power had been substantially decreased, and the move now would be premature, unnecessary, and most importantly, unpopular. The Minister intended to ride this anticipated wave of popularity all the way to the shore.
While Arthur shared the jubilation of his coworkers, a sense of unease also found its way inside of him. What would this mean? One thing he knew - He Who Must Not Be Named would not take this lying down. He quickly took a moment to apparate to the Burrow, where he quickly informed his shocked wife of the news. She agreed to disseminate the information to other members of the Order. A new meeting would be scheduled to discuss future actions given this new landscape.
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Lord Voldemort did not sleep one second after returning to his base of operations. In the past, he had suffered losses, some painful, but never had he been so thoroughly humiliated. Now left with only a handful of followers, he faced starting anew.
But even more devastating, he now knew that Potter found both the trophy and the cup. With Nagini dead at his own hand, he no longer controlled any of the horcruxes. Could the boy have destroyed them? He could not discount the possibility, but he did not believe that he had. While powerful, the boy lacked the knowledge and experience necessary to destroy a horcrux. Unless Dumbledore taught him.
With a sense of desperation, he paced throughout the evening, attempting to devise a plan to salvage something from this fiasco. Somehow he needed to find Potter and kill him. Now!
xxxx xxxx xxxx xxxx
"Who do you want to see first?"
Harry considered Remus' question for a second before responding, "Draco. I'll save the rat for last." Remus led him up two flights of stairs.
"Take your time. Make sure you bolt the door when you leave, not that I think he'll try to escape. He knows about his mother," Remus added, having previously informed Harry of Narcissa Malfoy's murder. Harry nodded while Remus opened the thick wooden door.
Draco sat on the floor with his back against the wall to the right of the door. Upon seeing Harry Potter enter his cell, he raised his eyebrows for a moment, but immediately returned to his emotionless expression. At this point, nothing mattered to him any more. As long as Lord Voldemort did not pass through that door, he did not care.
"Malfoy," Harry greeted him cooly. Draco looked up at him but otherwise did not acknowledge his visitor. Harry pulled out his wand and conjured two simple wooden chairs. Though capable of more comfortable seats, the simple chairs seemed more appropriate. "Take a seat."
Harry sat first and waited. Draco hesitated several seconds, loath to agree to anything that Potter requested, but after a second he recalled his position. He had no bargaining power, and his only hope was to cooperate. He stood and moved over to the chair.
"What brings you here, Potter?" he asked with a hint of his trademark drawl; nevertheless, Harry could hear defeat in his voice.
"Just have a few questions, and then I'll leave you in peace," Harry explained sarcastically, "I know you have a busy schedule." The barb earned a smirk from Draco. "Why didn't you kill Dumbledore when you had the chance?"
Draco raised an eyebrow in surprise. He knew that Potter had chased Snape and him out of the castle, but how did Potter know about the opportunity to kill the headmaster?
Harry noted his confusion and briefly explained, "I was there, petrified under an invisibility cloak. I saw it all." He could not prevent anger from escaping through his voice.
"I never wanted to kill. I'm not a killer. That's why I was such a terrible death eater; I just don't have it in me. I should be running a little shop somewhere, selling quidditch supplies and such," Draco dryly asserted, then raising his eyes to Harry, "You saw it; I froze."
"Yes, but you worked all year long on your little project. You let them in. As far as I'm concerned, you killed Dumbledore." Harry's anger rose as the memory of that day returned.
"What do you want me to say, Potter?" Draco asked incredulously, "Do you want me to apologize? It's too late for apologies. It's all over for me. I did what I did." He looked away from Harry, setting his jaw.
"I don't want an apology," Harry quickly responded, "I don't know what I want." He wondered why he wanted to talk with Draco in the first place. What help could he possibly give him? He stood and moved towards the door, pausing a moment. "What does Voldemort say about me?"
"He says that he underestimated you. That we all underestimate you. He asked me about you."
"What did you tell him?"
"That you are a mediocre, arrogant git who can fly. I told him you'd be nothing without Granger's brains. He seemed to have a higher opinion of you than I." Harry smirked, not disagreeing with Draco's assessment at all.
"We have something in common now, Malfoy," Harry commented in parting, "We're both orphans because of Voldemort. I've just had a little more time to get used to it." He opened the door.
"I want him dead too," Malfoy snarled, "I'll do anything you need me to do. Makes no difference if it will kill me; I don't care." Harry nodded, closing the door behind him. He slid the thick iron bolt shut.
xxxx xxxx xxxx xxxx
"If it happened, we must report it. Write it up," ordered an exhausted and irritated William Oglesby upon reviewing several reports of the previous evening's triumph at Hogwarts, "If it reflects favorably on the Ministry, so be it. But don't accept what they tell you at face value. Dig a little."
William and the entire Daily Prophet staff worked through the night, first bugging out of their old hideout on short notice, and secondly establishing the semblance of an operating newspaper in it's new location, an abandoned warehouse in Manchester. The site had been identified previously by scouts and protections placed on it. Muggles walked by the large, graffiti-marred building barely noticing it, and of course the Fidelius Charm and other protections had been applied.
Unable to produce an edition for that morning, the exhausted staff took its time, many catching catnaps. Michelle Goldsmith saw the reports as well. Thirty death eaters captured. But she also noted a short fact added almost as an afterthought. Six aurors injured, four seriously. She immediately thought of Evan Harrington and bit her lip in worry.
xxxx xxxx xxxx xxxx
When Harry entered Peter's windowless cell, he found his father's old friend splashing water onto his face in the small sink along the back wall. Upon hearing the door open, he quickly grabbed the small white towel and dabbed the water off. Remus closed the door, leaving Harry and Peter alone. At the moment, neither Harry nor Remus had heard the news of the battle at Hogwarts.
The older wizard hunched his shoulders slightly at the sight of the boy whose parents he betrayed. Other than as a baby, he met Harry on only one occasion, in the Shrieking Shack a little over three years before. Harry thought that he had never seen a more pathetic figure. At least Draco had a little life left in him; Peter appeared to be alive in a physical sense only. Harry did not bother conjuring chairs this time.
Harry had not taken any time to create a list of questions for Voldemort's servant, so he stood mutely for an extended time. Peter merely looked downwards, with no intention to speak first.
Finally Harry asked in a quiet monotone, "How did Voldemort breach the wards?" He did not especially care, but it served to open a dialogue.
Peter jumped at hearing the dark lord's name, but answered simply, "Dark magic. The dark lord does not give explanations. He brewed a potion, gave it to Narcissa Malfoy. Then after he gave it to her, he pushed her into the edge of the wards while reciting an incantation, and then he killed her. He said that the power of murder would enhance the power of the ritual. I don't know anymore than that."
Harry thought that he would have many questions for Peter relating to why he betrayed his parents, but suddenly he discovered that he no longer cared.
"What do you think I should do with you?" he asked sharply.
"Remus already told me that he will kill me. So that's that. I'm not going to beg like last time. I've changed since then."
"I've changed too," Harry sneered, "I'm a little older, a little wiser, and a lot meaner than I was before. You might say a little of Voldemort has rubbed off on me."
"Don't let it!" Peter retorted strongly, surprising both men, "You're better than that. Whatever you've done in the past, keep doing it. He fears you. Only you."
"He fears me?" Harry asked, astonished, "Why would he fear me?"
"The dark lord does not explain," Peter responded, "but I know him better than anyone. I've spent more time with him. I know." Harry stared at him for a few moments.
"Where's Snape? What is he doing?" The desire to kill the man could be felt in his voice. Peter's response almost disappointed him.
"Dead. The dark lord killed him. Most unpleasantly, I can assure you. He betrayed the dark lord. Apparently he had been a spy for Dumbledore."
Harry's mouth fell open. Snape a spy for Dumbledore? Surely he played that role for Voldemort, not Dumbledore. Harry saw him kill the headmaster less than two months before.
"When?"
"Just a few days ago." Peter felt no need to expound; he would merely answer the questions asked. He would not grovel before Harry as he did three years ago, since he could sense that it would do no good anyway.
Harry remained shocked by the news, unsure how to receive them. Certainly he felt no compassion for the former potions master who had done everything in his power to make Harry's life hell. But if in fact he remained loyal to Dumbledore . . . He looked back at the short, pudgy wizard and decided that he no longer wanted to have anything to do with him. In fact, he wished that he had not come at all.
Turning back to the door, one last thought occurred to him, "Where does he keep the snake?"
Peter did not answer right away, which caused Harry to turn back around to face him. Somehow Peter sensed the importance of his answer, and even though he assumed that he would never see his master again, he had to force himself to answer. The boy deserved the truth, of course, after everything he had done to him.
"The snake is dead. The dark lord killed him two nights ago."
The thought of leaving abandoned, Harry stepped towards Peter, who for the first time saw the young wizard's eyes glow green, with an intensity that he had only seen in the dark lord himself. Peter gasped at the sight. What had happened to the boy?
"Tell me EXACTLY what happened?" Harry ordered excitedly. Peter briefly described Voldemort's disabled state after his murder of Snape and the improvement of his physical condition following the sacrifice of Nagini. Harry, of course, understood the significance of the story perfectly, and through a few additional questions, he learned of Voldemort's excursions to the Gaunt cabin and the cave high above the ocean.
A few minutes later, just before he apparated back to the Granger home, he asked Remus, "Don't kill Pettigrew. Not yet, at least. Something tells me that I may need him. Draco too."
"I'm not going to kill him, even though I'd like to," Remus admitted reluctantly, "Don't worry about it. But listen, I've just received some big news." He informed Harry of the initial report of the captured death eaters at Hogwarts.
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Evan paced rapidly from one end of the sitting room to the other, considering all of the ramifications of the Hogwarts news. In the background, he heard the others excitedly discussing it as well, but for the moment he tuned them out. On a personal basis, he now knew with certainty that the Ministry suspected him and that he could not return. Without a doubt, he would have been summoned to participate in the attack under normal circumstances, and no other reason could explain why the summons never arrived. They no longer trusted him.
But the personal aspect of the situation mattered little at this point. If they played their cards right, they could exploit these recent events to their advantage. When he heard a lull in the conversation of the others, he jumped in.
"Harry, I need to know. Are you ready to go? I mean, are you ready to finish this off once and for all? Because if you are, with a little luck we may be able to bring this all to a head soon."
"I'm ready," Harry responded without hesitation, "But we need to destroy the cup first."
"Right," Evan agreed. Mr. and Mrs. Granger had already left to open their dental office. For them, this was a normal work day, and they had a number of appointments that morning. While Harry was away, they agreed that the others should arrive just after noon, when no patients would be there. He glanced at his watch. "In a few minutes, we'll go to the dental office. We'll see if we can destroy the cup there. If all goes well, Harry will absorb the horcrux. Then we can arrange to meet Voldemort. The sooner the better!"
"But why?" Ginny asked, "Shouldn't we plan this carefully? Why rush into it?"
"Because of what you said before," Hermione asserted, motioning to Evan, "Voldemort will be desperate, and desperate people make mistakes. We should try to attack while he is at his weakest."
Harry smiled at her new-found aggression, reflecting his own mood perfectly. Everything indicated that they should act as soon as possible - the centaurs' prediction, the Hogwarts captures, the news that Voldemort killed Nagini, Voldemort's weakened position. There would never be a better time to act.
"I agree," he declared softly, bringing the brief discussion to an end. "Let's go."