Repercussions

-

"Hey Harry."

He looked up and smiled at her, "Hey Hermione."

"Not that I should be calling you Harry anymore. But I can't really think of you as Ron. I guess we could use middle names."

"I'm not sure calling me James would make it any less confusing."

"No silly, you'd be Bilius."

That roused Harry from his stupor. "Oh no, we are not using middle names. I am not going to spend the rest of my life being called Bilius."

"It was only an idea. Anyway I came to find you to get you to come and talk to Ron. He just woke up and he's still a bit freaked by the whole thing."

"I'm still a bit freaked by the whole thing."

"Yes you looked rather stunned just now. I had to call your name twice before you heard me."

"Sorry. I overheard…" Harry glanced around and dragged Hermione further down the corridor and spoke quietly. "I overheard Sirius and Remus talking. They were saying that Dumbledore knew Sirius was innocent. Back when he was sent to Azkaban I mean."

Hermione nodded. "That makes sense."

"What do…" Harry shouted before hurriedly lowering his voice to a harsh whisper, "What do you mean it makes sense?"

"Well I always thought it was a bit funny, Sirius not getting a trial. People usually only get sent to jail without trial because whoever's in charge doesn't think they can get a conviction. Now that can be because of lack of evidence, but there was lots of evidence against Sirius; or because the prisoner is innocent."

"But that's outrageous. I can't believe it."

Hermione shrugged her shoulders. "Do you see Dumbledore rushing around trying to get Sirius a trial now?"

"But we're waiting until we catch Pettigrew."

She laughed and patted Harry on the shoulder. "If you say so. There's Vertiaserum and Pensieves and Legilimency and who knows what other magical tricks, you, me, Professor Lupin, the Boy Who Lived and Sirius of course, but we couldn't possibly have a trial. Not enough evidence clearly."

"But, but, it's not fair."

"No it's not. But Sirius is safe in Grimmauld Place, he just has to be patient."

"Patient!" exploded Harry, giving up on being quiet since everybody appeared to know all about it already.

"Yes patient," said Hermione soothingly. "Look, I'm not saying Dumbledore doesn't want Sirius to have a trial but unfortunately it's well down on the list of priorities."

"Priorities?"

"Defeating Voldemort, obviously. It has to come first, you know that.'"

"Right, my mistake." Not wanting to incinerate Hermione with his glare, Harry glowered at the floor.

"Don't be like that Harry. I know it's not fair but there's nothing we can do about it. And Sirius understands, doesn't he? He's not pushing for a trial, is he? He doesn't need you to fight his battles for him."

Harry tilted his head to one side and considered that.

"Yes he does," he said quietly.

Hermione stopped what she was saying and looked at him.

"Sorry Harry, what was that?"

"Nothing," he said shortly. "What was it you wanted me to do again?"

"Come and talk to Ron with me." Hermione stopped her determined stride and turned back to him. "By the way, where'd the broom come from?"

Harry grinned, "It's my firebolt. Fred and George got it back for me as a sort of welcome to the family present."

Hermione's face contorted in a combination of disapproval and satisfaction. Her mouth twitched but she didn't say anything. Harry knew she was caught between reflexive respect for authority and personal dislike of Umbridge. If he had the energy he'd make her squirm but the effort was too much for him at the moment.

"So have you got any sleep yet?" he asked instead.

She shook her head, "No I've been doing some research."

"Find anything interesting?"

"I've been trying to work out how Dumbledore did it."

"Did what?"

"Swapped the babies over."

"Oh." Harry had been hoping to talk about something other than his personal situation.

"Yes." Hermione's enthusiasm for intellectual puzzles lit up her whole face. "I mean obviously he must have used some sort of disguising charm on you both. But there has to be more to it than that. Because you're the one with the scar and the Voldemort visions and the parseltongue but apparently Ron is the Boy Who Lived. It doesn't make any sense."

"And Dumbledore said it was my mother's, I mean Lily's protection that saved me from Voldemort when he went after the Philosopher's stone. Maybe Dumbledore and Mrs Weasley are lying." As much as Harry would like them to be lying he didn't think he could take his world inverting on its axis again if they were.

"No," said Hermione briskly, "I think he was lying then. I don't see anything for them to gain from lying now. And really, when you think about it, it was a genius idea."

"WHAT!"

Hermione blushed. "I mean obviously it wasn't a very nice plan… but looking at it logically it was brilliant. Harry Potter grew up hidden away in perfect safety. And, when Voldemort resurrected himself he stole your blood, not R- the Boy Who Lived's. Think how much weaker that makes him."

Harry remembered Dumbledore's satisfaction when he'd learned that little fact and felt rather sick. Hermione kept burbling on about how much safer and anonymous Ron had been and finally Harry snapped.

"But I wasn't safer. All that safety was because I was in danger."

"Yes but Harry, Ron's the Boy Who Lived. Dumbledore had to protect him."

Harry wished he had an argument that didn't leave him sounding horribly selfish.

"And you can't say anything like that to Ron, you'll make him feel awfully guilty. It's not his fault. He's as stunned as you are. He's just discovered the people who he always believed are his family, aren't."

"Well I've just discovered the Weasleys gave me away, for money."

Hermione ground to a halt and bit at her bottom lip. "I know and I'm sorry Harry." She took his free hand in both of hers. "I'm sorry I haven't been thinking so much about your side of things. Ron's so distraught, I guess I was thinking that his loss is your gain."

"He's welcome to them."

"Don't say that Harry," she coaxed, "They're still your family."

"Hermione, they left me with the Dursleys."

She bowed her head briefly but when she looked up the determined glint was back in her eye. "But what about your brothers? Bill and Charlie are nice. I know you like the Twins. And there's Ron of course. Oh damn, no there isn't." She slapped at her forehead with the heel of her hand. "This is so confusing."

"How do you think I feel?"

"That's why you should come and talk to Ron. He knows exactly what you're going through. Come on. We can deal with this together."

Harry allowed Hermione's enthusiasm to sweep him along. She was right, it wasn't Ron's fault. He'd had the rug yanked out from under his feet just like Harry had. They'd dealt with four years of Hogwarts together, they could deal with this.

He followed Hermione down the corridor to the room he shared with Ron. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door.

"Hey mate," he began, before stopping sharply.

Ron was sitting beside Harry's trunk paging through his treasured photograph album.

"What are you doing?" demanded Harry furiously.

Ron flushed guiltily. "I was just looking."

"Well don't." Harry made a grab for his album. Ron snatched it away.

"I can look if I want to, after all, it's mine now."

"What the hell!"

"Well it is, isn't it?" said Ron defensively, scrambling to his feet.

"No," snapped Harry but his outstretched hand curled back before it could touch the album and he pulled his arm tight against his chest.

"It is so." Ron's head jutted forward aggressively. "I'm Harry Potter. So this is my album. Of my parents."

Harry retreated two steps from Ron's livid face.

"And the Invisibility Cloak is mine too." Ron stalked towards him belligerently.

"It is not," protested Harry, shying away from his enraged friend, "Dumbledore gave it to me."

"He gave it to Harry Potter and I'm Harry Potter. My father left it with Dumbledore to give to me. So it's mine now."

Harry took another step backwards.

"And that firebolt is mine." Ron's hand reached out towards his precious broom. Harry yanked it back.

"It is not yours," he said hotly, "It's mine, Sirius gave it to me."

"Well Sirius is my godfather now, so it's my broom."

"Sirius gave it to me." Harry took half a step forwards, turning slightly to put his body between Ron and the firebolt. "It's my broom."

"No it's not," snarled Ron, "Sirius bought that broom for his godson and I'm his godson, so it's my broom."

"Sirius bought it for me. I'm his Harry, it's my broom."

"Stop it!" shrieked Hermione, "Stop it both you."

"Give me my broom."

"It's not yours."

"Stop it! Oh please stop fighting."

"Just as soon as Weasley here gives me my broom," said Ron as he smugly advanced on Harry.

"I am not a Weasley!" roared Harry.

"What does a broom matter anyway," wailed Hermione, "You can just buy another one."

"It's my broom," Harry gritted out around a throat swollen with a mixture of boiling anger and furious tears, "Sirius gave it to me."

"Children!" Mrs Weasley's voice made all three of them jerk to a halt and turn towards the door. "What on earth is all this racket all about? You'll wake Ginny at this rate. Now whatever is the matter?"

All three of them started to speak.

"Quieten down," said Mrs Weasley, "One at a time please."

"Mum," complained Ron, "Harry won't give me my broom."

"It is not your broom," hissed Harry. He gripped the handle tightly in his sweaty hands, determined not to give it up. With gasp of relief he saw Remus appear behind Mrs Weasley in the door.

"Dear me," said Remus, "Whatever is going on here? Excuse me Mrs Weasley, can Sirius and I come through?"

Mrs Weasley looked irritated but she moved further into the room. Remus and Sirius slid in behind her. Harry ran towards them. Sirius opened his arms and caught him.

"Kiddo? What's wrong?"

Harry's throat locked down. He didn't know what to say. What if Sirius agreed Ron should have his broom.

Sirius dropped down onto his haunches so he could look up into Harry's face.

"Pup? It's okay, you can tell me."

Harry clutched at Sirius' robe with his free hand but still couldn't say anything. He could hear Ron whining,

"M-um."

"Yes dear."

"Tell Harry he has to give me my broom."

"But," began Mrs Weasley.

"What," shouted Sirius at the same moment, coming to his feet and spinning around so he stood beside Harry.

"Well it's my broom by rights, isn't it," said Ron sulkily. "You bought for it for your godson, and that's me."

Harry started to shake as he waited for Sirius' reply.

"I bought it for Harry," said Sirius.

"But I'm Harry now," said Ron.

"I bought it for our Harry," said Sirius, putting one hand on Harry's shoulder for emphasis. "My Pup," he said proudly, smiling down at Harry, who smiled timidly back.

"That's not fair. I'm your godson. I should have the broom."

Sirius sighed, "Yes you're my godson and I would love to take you broom shopping, but this broom is Harry's, our Harry's," he stressed wrapping his arm firmly around Harry's shoulders. Harry sank into the embrace, grateful for the support for his wobbly knees.

"But I'm supposed to be your Harry. Mum tell them." He tugged on Mrs Weasley's arm.

"I think," said Remus calmly, "That we are all a little bit het up and irrational tonight. Things will look much better tomorrow. With that in mind I think we'll retire to try and get some sleep for what's left of the night. Come along Sirius, Harry."