Disclaimer: No, I do not own Harry Potter! Er, or the rights to his autobiography.

Author's Note: This was faster than my last update. And longer, as well (I think, anyway). Please don't forget to review! And to remind you...

review responses deleted

o.o.o.o

Into the silence, the tall black Auror added, "He didn't want to have you killed, because he's too much of a coward for it. And he couldn't have you Kissed, because there's already been a Minister that sentence a minor to that -- a 13-year-old boy, if I'm correct."

"But that boy deserved it," put in Bidge, and Harry couldn't tell whether it was to him or Shacklebolt. "He killed his entire family... in front of witnesses... and enjoyed it."

Fists clenched so hard that his fingernails were biting into his palms and beginning to bleed, Harry stared at Shacklebolt for a moment. Then, in a cold, quiet, furious voice, he said, "I am not going to Azkaban."

Kingsley Shacklebolt looked almost as angry as Harry, but also a little scared, as he tried to hold his eyes on Harry's face. "No, not if we can help it, you're not. But I have to admit--" more quietly, "Dumbledore's been sort of run up a wall here. He's got no jurisdiction inside the Ministry, and all the higher-ups are behind Fudge in this. I don't know if he's bribed them or threatened them, or what, but nobody's stepping out to help us."

"But... but... There are laws, Kingsley!" exclaimed Pennywesh, running her hands through her hair. It was beginning to frizz out and look like a pale gold halo.

"Well, he's ignoring them." Kingsley grimaced, stepping into the room. He glanced at Harry worriedly. "How are you, Potter?"

A little stream of blood was beginning to drip from Harry's hands onto the floor. He ignored it. "I am not going to Azkaban," he repeated in a wickedly firm voice.

Tonks, who had not moved since Shacklebolt had announced the fate that Minister Fudge had in store for Harry, mouthed wordlessly for a second, her eyes glazed with horror. Then she quietly spoke what was definitely the most tactless thing possible --

"Sirius would kill Fudge for this."

Smythe, Bidge and Pennywesh missed the significance of this statement, but Shacklebolt's eyes widened perceptibly, darting to Harry. In the back of his mind, Harry wondered whether the whole Order had heard about his little temper tantrum in Dumbledore's office at the end of term.

His face suddenly became expressionless. He had to swallow to stave off the intense feeling of loss that swamped him.

Tonks, too, realized what she'd said. For the first time, she fixed her eyes on Harry. "Oh... Harry... I didn't..." she whispered, trailing off. She covered her mouth with one hand, and with a sob, moved across the room to pull Harry into a painfully tight hug. "I'm sorry."

The black-haired boy relaxed into the embrace, briefly giving in to a surge of grief such as he hadn't felt since the night he'd watched his godfather fall through the veil. But he remembered where he was too quickly, and shook the Auror off. He had to pause and wipe his face before he could look at any of the other occupants of the room.

Pennywesh had turned politely around, and seemed to be sniffling into her hand. Smythe was looking between them curiously.

"What was that about?" Bidge asked bravely. Shacklebolt glared at him, and he shut up.

"What happens now?" Harry's voice was flat.

"Well, we're really not supposed to be in here with you. Pennywesh and Bidge will be posted outside the door, but the rest of us need to leave." When he was speaking, Shacklebolt put a strong hand on Harry's shoulder. "We are going to be trying to get you out, Harry. Nobody wants to leave you in here."

"Except the only people doing anything," Harry mumbled uncharitably, as they all... left him in there.

Isn't that ironic. Could things get much worse?

He was about to retreat sullenly into one of the corners, when he finally noticed the blood on his hands. He raised his left and held it in front of his face, still fisted, and blinked at it. He glanced at the floor, and noticed the blood there, as well.

He grunted, annoyed.

Oh joy, I'm bleeding. Fantastic.

In a fit of sudden rage, he stormed over to the nearest wall and slammed his right fist against it as hard as he could. The stone he'd hit shattered with a loud crack, and all of those around it receded, which formed a large dent in the otherwise smooth wall. Splintering agony lanced through his hand and up his arm, liquid warmth covered his fingers entirely. This only made his anger worse, and he quickly struck the wall again. The already damaged rock fell apart completely, covering Harry in dust. Several of the others toppled from the wall and landed on the other side; in the corridor.

The pain in Harry's arm and hand exploded even more painfully -- so please, couldn't his other hand stop hurting, please? -- and Harry was sure he'd broken at least every single bone from his right elbow down. And there was blood, all over his hand. All over both his hands, actually, though he hadn't punched anything with his left, and it didn't hurt in the slightest. He stared, and tentatively opened his left hand, spreading the fingers as far as he could. He couldn't see anything for all the blood there was, so he wiped it on his already soiled trousers. He gasped. There wasn't a mark anywhere on his hand. But there had been. He knew there had been. Knew there had been.

(Hadn't there?)

The door burst open and what looked like half a dozen people in bright red robes were suddenly in the room with him.

o.o.o.o

Pennywesh, Bidge and Tonks were all standing just outside the door to Arrival and Containment Room 3, where Bidge was trying to ignore the females beside him and still do his job at least semi-properly. Tonks was crying brokenly on Pennywesh's shoulder and talking quickly in a desperate voice that Bidge was very glad he couldn't understand. For her part, Pennywesh looked sympathetic and sad and scared all at the same time. That, Bidge could understand, which was why he let them alone, until they were in a position to have a conversation with such a normal individual as himself.

Several minutes after they'd returned to the hallway, Tonks was barely composing herself. Bidge prepared to ask, yet again, what it was she said that had upset Harry so badly.

But Bidge didn't get to do any such thing. For just as he opened his mouth, the Minister came marching down the hall, a veritable crowd of people with him. All of them were well-dressed, highly-connected, and extremely important. Bidge noticed several witches and wizards sporting the crests of some of the most prominent anti-Muggle families. Among them was Lucius Malfoy, looking even more arrogant than normal, and there was his wife, too, and -- what in Merlin's Name was their son doing there? He couldn't have been older than Potter!

There were too many to be able to recognize all of them, but if one looked closely, you could tell that not all of them were as happy as they were pretending to be. Along in the back was Shacklebolt, beginning to look harassed and just the tiniest bit tired, with a worryingly worried expression on his face.

The instant Minister Fudge and his followers came into view, Tonks and Pennywesh paled. The crowd was drawing steadily closer, and Tonks -- who had no viable reason for being there and would surely get in trouble just on that -- took a step to one side, so that she was right in front of the door. Her eyes were too wide, and she looked more nervous than sure of herself. Bidge realized what she was planning to do, and gasped in horror.

If she tried to stop the Minister now, just by standing in front of that door, then there was no doubt in his mind that she'd wind up with a cell in Azkaban right across from Harry's.

Pennywesh had gone even paler, which Bidge took to mean that she'd also picked up on the meaning behind Tonks' action. Fudge and the others were just a few yards away.

This is a disaster.

Neither Tonks, nor Bidge, nor Pennywesh had a chance to do anything about anything, however. When Fudge was merely a couple of strides from them, there was a loud, echoing cracking noise. The walls shook. Several stones began to break.

A split-seconded later it sounded again, and what seemed like half the wall fell out of a wall, the one on the opposite side of Harry's door as Fudge. This was followed by a hair-raising feeling of foreboding.

"Open that door!" shrieked the Minister, looking outraged. "Potter is trying to escape!" But the three Aurors had started moving before he'd even opened his mouth, and already had the door open.

They burst into the room, ignoring the strangers at their backs, to find an angry-looking Harry standing by a large hole in the wall, staring awestruck at his bloody left hand. He was covered in dust, holding his even bloodier right hand cradled close against his chest.

"Good God," gasped Tonks. She stumbled backwards into whoever was behind her. The man didn't seem to mind, being just as shocked himself.

"Potter!" The little Minister was fuming. "This is appalling! Willful destruction of Ministry property! One would think you'd done enough, but oh no--" The Minister rounded on the closest ranking-Auror he could find, which turned out to be Madame Tibbles. "Did I not make myself clear that I wanted his wand taken from him and snapped?"

"But, Minister," interrupted the man who Tonks had bumped into, "he hasn't got a wand. He appears to have done nothing more than punch the wall. Minister."

Fudge only snorted disbelievingly and gave the man a scathing look. "Don't be a ninny. Put a hole that size in a magically enforced stone wall, without a wand? Ridiculous," he spat, focusing on the only Aurors in the room. His hulking bodyguards seemed to have been let off duty. He pointed at Harry. "Search him. And this time I want his wand."

At this exact moment, Harry turned his head and locked eyes with Bidge. He appeared to have just noticed that there were other people in the room. His left hand fell limply to his side as he blinked once... twice... A third time...

Then he was on his knees clutching his forehead.

"Oh. Not... now," he moaned, and his glazed green eyes rolled up into his head. He fell back against the filthy floor. And then he screamed.