War Is Over: Chapter 9/17 - Friendship
These are the things Ron Weasley doesn't ask Harry Potter:
He doesn't ask what Harry saw in Snape's memories, even though he knows that whatever it was, it made Harry turn himself over to Voldemort;
He doesn't ask how Harry survived when Voldemort used the Killing Curse on him again, and Harry himself offered no resistance;
He doesn't ask how it felt to Harry: to go to his death, to go there willingly, to go there alone;
He doesn't ask how afraid Harry was, knowing the most dangerous wizard in history was after him, personally;
He doesn't ask Harry what he had seen in the Ministry of Magic, after Rowle was captured.
He knows he would be the first Harry told, not Ginny, not Hermione, him. He knows Harry would have already answered these questions, if he was ready. He knows that, despite the fact he would have liked to know the answer.
And that Harry knows he would like to know the answer, too.
-X-
The fragile peace they had from Harry, mainly for the sake of the rest of the trainees, had been irrevocably broken after Harry came back from the Ministry. Harry no longer seemed to care whether his disagreements with the Ministry - or with their instructor - were destroying whole classes and training exercises.
The first time this happened was their first class that very next morning. Savage had only started to talk about the best ways to repel Unforgivable Curses, when Harry looked directly at him and didn't even wait for him to finish the sentence.
"Funny you should call them Unforgivable Curses," he said suddenly.
Savage stopped and looked at Harry in confusion. "That's their name," he said, half stating, half asking.
"I'm just saying, weird name."
"But - I thought you guys covered this in Hogwarts?" he looked in confusion at the classroom. "They're called Unforgivable Curses because the use of any one of them gets you thrown into Azkaban."
"Well, except if you're one of the people who get forgiven for using them," Harry said shortly.
Savage froze. "I don't think this is the best time to have this conversation, Harry," he said.
"Why?"
By now, everyone was staring at Harry, their mouths open, wondering what the hell was going through his head. Those of them who had been with Harry in classes where he had taken issues with their teacher's attitudes - particularly with Dolores Umbridge - could already sense where this was going.
"What's he doing?" Seamus whispered to Ron, but Ron shook his head. He had no idea, either.
"This just isn't the - "
"This just isn't the place to point out that we're doing exactly what the Death Eaters were doing, only we're the good guys, so it's okay when we're doing it?"
"I don't think - "
"Yeah, you don't think." Lavender and Padma gasped.
"Harry, I - "
"Why shouldn't we discuss how it's completely acceptable today for the Ministry to torture people for information? Or kill Death Eaters when you can just capture them?"
"You're being ridiculous," Savage said, and turned his back to Harry.
"So that's not what happened?" Harry found himself on his feet. He wasn't quite sure when he got up, but he must have.
Savage turned back to him. "Stop being so childish, Potter," he said in a final tone. "And sit down."
"No, I don't think so," Harry said savagely and walked out, seething.
It took him a moment out of class to realise there was someone else he wanted to talk to. Exiting the premises proved no problem, as did Apparating to the entrance of the Ministry of Magic. And once there, he was Harry Potter.
If Harry Potter wanted to visit Kingsley Shacklebolt, who'd tell him no?
And so it was only five minutes - and while his anger was still true - that he entered Kingsley's office. His anger only rose when he saw Cornelius Fudge there, but before he had the chance to say a few choice words, Kingsley seized the opportunity to start speaking.
"I wondered if I'd see you here," Kingsley said without raising his head. "Even though, to the best of my knowledge, you still have classes right about now." There was amusement in his voice. Harry couldn't quite see what there was to be so amused about, so he remained silent.
"Cornelius, if you could?"
"Of course, Minister. Harry," he greeted Harry - as if there was no bad blood within them, as if Cornelius Fudge didn't share the blame for what had happened the year before. Harry just nodded curtly, not trusting himself to say anything to the man.
Kingsley only raised his head from the paperwork once Fudge had left. "I assume, Harry, this has something to do with yesterday."
Harry nodded again. He still didn't trust himself to speak, not even to Kingsley.
"I'm not proud of that," Kingsley said quietly. "But we really couldn't afford any attacks right now, no matter how small - and it turned out the attack we stopped was quite big. I'm not going to apologise for it, either."
"You couldn't afford any attacks now?" Harry raised an eyebrow, his voice cold as ice.
"I'm not a politician, Harry," Kingsley sighed. "Do you know why I have this job?"
"Because you were in the Order, because - "
"Because I was the highest ranking Ministry employee who was also in the Order of the Phoenix and survived the war."
"Well, those are good enough credentials to me," harry said. His impatience was growing again - what did this have to do with anything?
"Yes, and as it is, to most people. But this is a politician's job, Harry, and I know nothing about politics."
"Is this why you keep Fudge around?"
If Kingsley was upset with Harry's bluntness, he said nothing, but just smiled. "Yes, and for other reasons."
"Fudge - "
" - Has done a lot of stupid things," Kingsley completed the sentence, "and is not the brightest of people. He still puts too much stock in too many old values."
"Like blood purity," Harry said angrily.
"Yes, indeed. Here's a funny story, as long as we're talking about politicians, Harry. With Will Jones's talent and skills, he should have become head of his office five years ago, when the position first opened up. Instead, a pure-blood got the job, and only now, when he was reinstated, did we give him the office."
"And now he's spreading paranoia around."
"You were the one who kept on insisting the Minister for Magic has too much authority, that more power should be given to the heads of office. Will Jones is one of my best heads of office, he's an experienced politician, and - as we've already discussed - he has every reason to be paranoid. So what would you have me do? Revert back to the old system? Fire Will Jones because I disagree with him?" Kingsley raised an eyebrow, and Harry remained silent.
"I'm not asking this lightly, Harry. I ask myself these questions, too. All the time. I don't like where the Ministry is going at the moment, either."
"Then do something about it!"
"I am. The best I can. But on some issues, that's not enough. I'm fighting for every decision, every policy. They're playing here games I can't even begin to understand. People like Fudge at least tell me when other people are hiding things for me. When they have a different agenda. I don't even always recognise that, you know? So yeah - sometimes, I have to give up. There's just no way around it. Sometimes, I have to authorise orders I really, really don't like."
"Like firing everyone - "
"Yes. I need Savage here, not stuck on an instruction job which, as important as it is, is hampering our ability to catch Death Eaters."
"So you resort to torture."
"We resort to whatever means we have to stop this. The sooner all Death Eaters have been rounded up, Harry, the sooner the Ministry can go back to normal and the sooner we can stop acting in a... distasteful manner."
Harry thought to himself that he's not sure whether the Ministry was ever normal to begin with, but said nothing. He left Kingsley's office still angry, but also confused.
He didn't even notice the commotion in the Atrium when he tried to leave - not until someone grabbed his arm. Lifting his gaze, he was surprised to see Will Jones - and Rita Skeeter.
He had walked straight into a press conference. Great.
"Harry!" Jones said happily, and Harry noted to himself that apparently now - or in front of Rita Skeeter, at any rate - he wasn't Mr Potter anymore.
"Mr Jones," he said as politely as he could, hoping to get away. "Rita."
"Mr Potter! Always a pleasure," she flashed her best smile. He considered screaming at her, but gave up the notion to mutter something non-committal that might have been "Yeah, right."
"I was just telling Rita here the role you had in capturing the Death Eaters! This young man - " he presented him to the rest of the reporters, "climbed to a burning building, saved three Aurors, and then joined them in interrogating a Death Eater to secure the location of his fellow criminals. I want to put it on records, because while no one needs any more indication that Harry Potter is a true hero, he never fails to give them."
"It wasn't interrogation, Mr Jones," he said, his voice much louder than he meant.
"I beg your pardon?"
Rita Skeeter started scribbling frantically. Harry was surprised to realise that he didn't care.
"As long as we're putting things on record, Will, let's get some things straight, shall we? The building wasn't burning, there was two Aurors alive there as the third was already dead, and it wasn't an interrogation. It was an illegal torture of a prisoner to gain information."
Will Jones's face turned white. Rita Skeeter didn't seem able to write fast enough. Cameras went off all around Harry.
And he didn't care.
"Look, Harry, I'm not sure whether you are old enough to understand how our legal system works," Will Jones started tentatively.
"Yes, I am. I'm old enough to have fought a war, and to defeat Voldemort, and I'm old enough to see that we're becoming just like them."
"We are using whatever methods necessary - "
"Death Eater methods."
"No, not Death Eater methods," Jones snapped. "We haven't given up anyone to the Dementors, Mr Potter, who didn't deserve it. We are fighting for our survival here, and we're still maintaining our morals. The easy way would have been to get rid of all the Slytherins, wouldn't it? But we're giving them a chance. We are actually going only after those who waste their chance. It's not our fault that most of them seem to be determined to waste it."
"And pay them in the same coin as they did us."
Jones stared directly at Harry, unfazed.
"We already won the war," Harry pointed out, for what seemed like the umpteenth time in the past couple of months.
"Yes, you would say that. You're half-blood, aren't you."
Harry didn't say anything to that, but did not avert his gaze from Jones. Jones, in his turn, stared at Harry for just a little bit longer, just as stubborn, but then turned to the cameras. "Don't let this little misunderstanding give you the wrong idea, Rita," he laughed, even if his laughter didn't sound convincing to Harry's ears. "The true beauty of the end of the war is that we can, in fact, disagree." He grabbed Harry's hand and shook it again. Harry mumbled an excuse and was soon gone.
In the end, his trip to the ministry didn't sooth his anger, but rather kept it going all the way to the still empty dormitories. He was still angry when he stepped through the door, still angry when he climbed to his bunk. But then, doubt came over him.
He had used the Cruciatus curse himself, once.
But that was different, he argued with himself. His scar hurt and Voldemort was on his way and Amycus Carrow had just threatened the students of Hogwarts and spat in McGonagall's face.
He had used the Cruciatus curse himself, once.
But that was different, he argued with himself. He only used it once, at the heat of the moment. The Aurors were now using it as a way of extracting information, and once that worked, who's to tell they won't do it again?
He used the Cruciatus curse himself, once.
But that was different, he argued with himself. Yes, he meant it then. He wanted to cause Amycus Carrow the worst pain possible. What he had done, what Harry had seen until then, what he was still facing... he was tired, he was scared, he was stressed. But he stopped.
For a moment he saw in his mind's eye Savage's face, the satisfaction in his expression as Amycus Carrow was screaming and screaming and screaming. And Kingsley had to shout at him to stop. That wasn't Harry. Harry stopped on his own accord. Harry wanted Amycus to pay... but he didn't enjoy it.
Not like that.
And still he felt sick, and covered himself in the blanket, trying to sleep. His dreams were haunted by people screaming, dead bodies all around, and Voldemort, always Voldemort, looking at him in his snake-like eyes and casting the Killing Curse. In his dreams, Harry died a thousand times.
The next morning, he got up and started throwing things into his bag.
"What're you doing?" Ron mumbled, awakened by the noise Harry was making.
"Going to visit Ginny and Hermione."
"Wha - "
"It's Hallowe'en, remember? We said we'd go visit Hogwarts on Hallowe'en."
"It's Hallowe'en tomorrow," Ron gave him a weird look. "It's 7 a.m.. They have classes. We have classes."
Harry shrugged. "I'm going to Hogwarts," he said simply.
Ron stood there and looked at him while Harry finished packing his bag and walked out of the door. He didn't look back to see how long Ron kept on watching him afterwards.
The road to the school was chilly this time of the year. It was almost winter - not yet, not as cold as winter could get here in the mountains. But it was already cold, especially such a short time after sunrise. But walking on the road from Hogsmeade to Hogwarts on this early Friday morning, he enjoyed freedom for the first time in a long time. He enjoyed the freedom of his cold breath, the freedom of walking this path, the freedom of not thinking about things he didn't want to think about.
He didn't go straight to the school. Ron was right, of course. It wasn't yet Hallowe'en and everyone had classes. For a moment, he was sorry he didn't ask Ron to come with him. They could go play Quidditch in the pitch, or go visit Hagrid, or go sit next to the lake. Or go find Peeves and annoy him, or talk to Nearly-Headless Nick, or do a thousand other small, unimportant things. Together. Now he was alone, and it wasn't half as fun. He couldn't go to see the girls now. Hermione would never agree to skive her classes, and if he came to ask Ginny and she was around, he'll never hear the end of it.
Of course, there was a good chance Ron would tell her anyway, and then he still would never hear the end of it, but that possibility was in the future. Right now, he preferred to pretend it didn't exist.
So he didn't go to the castle, but instead found himself drawn to the Forbidden Forest. He wasn't afraid of the forest anymore - or at least, not afraid of what the forest held. The dark creatures will have gone, gone with Voldemort, gone after the war. Unless, of course, Hagrid found a new... thing to raise here, Harry settled on the word, and shrugged to himself. So what if he did? Good for him.
He walked purposelessly, letting his legs take him wherever they would. Without realising it, he had reached the clearance, the place that once housed the giant spiders, that once housed Voldemort. The same place he had buried Voldemort all those months ago.
It was still undisturbed.
There were the old signs of a fire, now covered with a small layer of frost. Old ropes were lying on the ground, covered with frost as well. Were these the ropes they had used to tie Hagrid? Harry mused, checking them closely, but seeing no indication either way. They could have been there long before, he had no way of knowing.
He was surprised to discover, though, that Voldemort's makeshift grave was unidentifiable. He could not remember where exactly he had dug in the ground, where he left the body. And there was no sign around - the rain and the frost took care of that.
Better that way, Harry thought, and wandered away. If the noise of his footsteps on the leaves made him jump every once in a while, he ignored it. He was alone in the forest, that much he knew.
Several minutes later, and he was no longer in the forest: he was on the edge of the lake, and could see the great white tomb in front of him.
He hadn't been there, not after the funeral, and not since he put back the Elder Wand with its former master. Now he looked curiously at the white marble. There was nothing in it to hint at the great man lying underneath it, nothing but a name and a date. They gave no hint of the personality of that great wizard, his quirkiness, or his talent.
They gave no hint as to how better the wizarding world would be right now, if he was still alive.
Harry stared at the tomb for a while longer in silence. Then, he started walking towards the castle. His legs carried him through the hall, up the familiar steps - and with Dumbledore's tomb still in his mind, he found himself climbing through the highest stairs, up to the Astronomy tower. It was already well past nine - classes have already started. A group of young children, probably first or second years, were sitting in front of Professor Sinistra.
She didn't realise he had entered the room at first. Standing with her back to the door, she continued lecturing her class about Jupiter. "As the largest planet in our solar system, Jupiter has already been recognised by the witches and wizards of ancient times. In fact, when you take your Divination classes, you will learn that it is treated as the ruler of the sky, over all other planets. Also, it's really seen as the king of the skies with its responsibilities - it's responsible for such matters as law, religion and freedom. And protection, too. Now, can any of you tell me how many moons does Jupiter have? Anyone?"
Finally, Professor Sinistra noticed none of her students was paying any attention to her. They were whispering between themselves, and some of the kids actually pointed directly at Harry. Professor Sinistra turned around, quite annoyed, but her expression changed when she spotted Harry.
"Mr Potter," she smiled. "It's been a while."
"Yeah... Sorry, Professor, I wasn't thinking there'd be a class here..."
"Well, if you want to stay, perhaps show the kids some - "
"No, that's alright, really," he mumbled and went back down. The last thing he needed was to have a bunch of first years stare at him. And there would be other people too, he thought, and decided that a visit to say hello to Professor McGonagall should be safe.
He stopped short of knocking on the Headmistress's door. Loud voices from inside the room told him something was wrong, so early in the morning. Loud voices which he recognised as Minerva McGonagall's - and Kingsley Shacklebolt's.
"The one time in recent history the Ministry has interfered with Hogwarts is not remembered fondly, Kingsley," McGonagall said sharply.
"This is a part of a bigger change in Ministry policy, Minerva. This isn't about Hogwarts."
"You want to change a tradition older than a thousand years in this school, Kingsley, it is most definitely about Hogwarts."
"This is about our society as a whole, Minerva. As you said, this tradition is a thousand years old - maybe it's time to move forward."
"But surely not like that? Abolishing one house out of the four will surely send the wrong kind of message?"
Harry had heard enough. He knocked on the door, and the voices from within the room stopped abruptly.
"Yes?" McGonagall said, and Harry opened the door.
McGonagall and Kingsley weren't the only people in the room - on a soft chair, next to McGonagall's desk, sat the former Minister for Magic and Kingsley's current aide, Cornelius Fudge.
Above him, all the portraits were fast asleep - or at least, pretending to be.
"Potter," McGonagall said in surprise.
"Professor," he greeted her, "Minister... Fudge." He emphasised the last word. There would be no respect in the way he addressed Cornelius Fudge.
Fudge started greeting him, then seemed to think better of it, and went back to his armchair. Kingsley, on the other hand, looked at him in a penetrating gaze.
"Looks like we keep on running into each other, Harry. I wondered if you'd end up here here," he said.
"Why would you assume that?" Harry asked casually.
"Seeing as you left the training facility a bit early," Kingsley said, just as casually. McGonagall looked from one to the other, confused and irritated.
"I must leave, Minerva," Kingsley said, and Fudge got up. "Please, consider what I've asked you."
McGonagall offered Harry her ginger newts, then followed Kingsley and Fudge, escorting them outside of the school. Harry sat in Fudge's abandoned armchair, nibbling on ginger newts, and pointedly not looking at the portraits.
He expected the Dumbledore in the painting to say something, but when a voice was heard, it was Snape's.
"So it has finally come to this," the cold voice of his old Potions master stated. "Abolishing Slytherin house."
Harry turned to looked at him. Snape was sitting in an armchair, looking greatly displeased - well, more displeased than usual. Harry couldn't really remember ever seeing Snape pleased. But he couldn't feel animosity towards Snape, not now.
"It shouldn't be like this," he said. "I'm sorry... Severus."
Dumbledore beamed to him from his frame while the Snape in the portrait ignored him completely.
Harry waited a bit longer, thinking that perhaps the Dumbledore in the portrait might offer a word of advice, some of his wisdom, or at least a cryptic-as-hell saying that would at least sound nice. But despite the momentary acknowledgement of Harry, the portrait of Albus Dumbledore had closed his eyes and returned to snooze on his very comfortable armchair. Harry went back to eating ginger newts, and that was how Professor McGonagall had found him, ten minutes later.
"Kingsley told me what had happened," she said sternly. Harry looked at her and swallowed the newt. "I thought you wanted to be an Auror."
"I thought so, too," he offered as a response
She nodded. "It will take a while for things to get back to normal, Potter," she said, not without kindness. "That's how it was the last time."
"The last time Sirius Black stayed in Azkaban without a trial for twelve years," he reminded her, "and Dolores Umbridge sent Dementors after me to discredit me and Dumbledore." His gaze travelled for a second to the back of his hand, but then his eyes returned firmly to McGonagall's face. "I'm not sure we know what's normal anymore, Professor."
"You shouldn't say that," she said, perhaps in a slightly harsher manner than she meant, for immediately after her voice softened again. "There's no reason to believe things will not calm down after all the Death Eaters have been caught."
Harry didn't look at her, but lifted his eyes to the portrait behind her. On his armchair, Albus Dumbledore was no longer pretending to be sleeping, but instead examining Harry from behind his half-moon glasses. There was no smile on his face.
"I hope you're right, Professor," he said quietly, without a lot of conviction.
-X-
It was Hallowe'en. It was morning. Harry woke up in the empty Gryffindor common room. The fire was burning merrily in the fireplace, lending homely and warm light to the entire room. For a moment, Harry wondered why he was sleeping on the sofa, as comfortable as it was, and not in his own bed in the dormitories. It took him a while to remember that he was not going to Hogwarts any longer, was no longer a student. They were just visiting. Hogwarts was no longer home.
And with that thought, he got up from the sofa with disappointment and looked at the room.
No one else was there - neither Ron nor Neville, Dean nor Seamus. They all came the day before, well into the evening, after their classes were finished, to join in with the Hallowe'en festivities. No one mentioned how he walked out of training, and even Hermione resisted the urge to tell him off, even though he could see her itching to do so. No, they just had a fun evening, and at the end of it, fell asleep right there in the common room. And now it was morning and the room was completely empty. He assumed it must be rather late, and that everyone was already down in the Great Hall for breakfast. It'd be better to join them, he thought, thinking of the wonderful breakfast prepared by the Hogwarts house-elves.
He wasn't wrong - as soon as he entered the Great Hall he could spot Ron and Hermione, sitting next to Ginny and eating what looked like last night's pumpkin pie. They weren't alone - Neville and Seamus were busy telling a story to Dennis Creevey, with Dean nodding every once in a while, mainly reading the Prophet. For a second, he was surprised to spot Padma in the Gryffindor table - but then, she was sitting next to Lavender and Parvati. Seeing Parvati, Harry remembered that unlike her sister and her best friend, she had chosen to repeat her seventh year at Hogwarts.
Harry crossed the hall and sat down next to his friends, ignoring the way everyone in the Great Hall stopped eating and started staring at him as he passed by them. With slight annoyance, he noticed that some of the kids staring were in their sixth and seventh year, people he had known in his time at Hogwarts.
"Morning," he said brightly, his cheerfulness perhaps slightly too forced, as he sat down next to Ron and picked up some toast.
"Morning," Ron mumbled with his mouth full.
"Morning, sleepyhead," Ginny smiled, and Harry just looked at her for a couple of seconds longer than necessary before asking why they did not wake him up when they went down to breakfast.
"I figured you'd wake up eventually," she shrugged.
"Not me. I suggested we pour some water over your head," Ron contributed unhelpfully.
"Thanks, Ron."
"You know I'm always there for you."
Harry declined to reply to that, and just drank some pumpkin juice.
"This food is gorgeous!" Ron was already telling Hermione. "So much better than what the Ministry's giving us. Kinda makes me wish I'd stayed at Hogwarts."
"For the food?"
"Yeah, why not? I mean, it's not like I need the N.E.W.T.s or anything..."
"You know," she said testily, "I think you two would have found Auror training much easier if you had completed your N.E.W.T.s."
"Nah," Ron was now talking with his mouth completely full again. "It would have been hard either way."
"I can think of other reasons for you guys to have stayed here this year," Ginny said softly, and Harry laughed.
"Oh, Harry, you're here," Dean suddenly raised his eyes from the paper.
"Took you a while to notice... What are you reading, anyway?"
"You'd love this. Rita Skeeter's finally gone mad."
"Why?" Harry asked suspiciously, "Is this about me?"
"Yeah, you'd love this, completely mental."
"Go on, then," Harry ignored the sense of foreboding that started forming at the bottom of his stomach and took instead another bite from his toast. "I could do with a laugh."
"And what a laugh," Dean said and started reading out loud.
'THE BATTLE OF HOGWARTS series continues, as our correspondent Rita Skeeter tries to unveil the events of that fateful night. The last piece in the series: Harry Potter's victory.
'EVERYBODY in the magical world knows how the Battle of Hogwarts ended. Harry Potter had been given an ultimatum by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and had gone to meet him at the Forbidden Forest. Reported dead by the Man and the Monster himself, Harry Potter was brought as a body into Hogwarts, only to prove to be very much alive and triumph over the Dark Lord.
'But not many know what had happened in those crucial minutes in the Forbidden Forest, and practically no one knows how Harry Potter managed to survive the Killing Curse a second time.
'The Prophet can now exclusively reveal the details of that fateful night. Harry Potter, as opposed to popular belief, did not go out to the forest following You-Know-Who's ultimatum. In fact, the information revealed here today suggests he would have gone out to meet the Dark Lord even in the unlikely event that the later would have given up and admitted defeat. Before Harry Potter had gone to meet his maker (and the Dark Lord), he had reportedly received a last message from none other than Albus Dumbledore, detailing his necessary course of action.
'It has long been rumoured that during the past year, Harry Potter had been sent on a mission by Dumbledore to destroy dark artefacts created by You-Know-Who. As has been revealed in these pages only a few weeks ago, those dark artefacts were, in fact, pieces of You-Know-Who's soul (despite the evidence suggesting no such thing has ever existed), also known as Horcruxes, and their destruction was essential to the destruction of the Dark Lord himself. The exclusive information that has been shared with The Prophet suggest that there was one other such Horcrux - Harry Potter himself.
'It was published long ago that Harry Potter had shared a connection with the Dark Lord, a mental connection that manifested in pains in his universally famous scar, and in such less known traits as Parseltongue, one of You-Know-Who's trademark talents (after his penchant to murder innocent people). The evidence suggests all these unconnected traits were not unconnected at all, but were in fact the result of a piece of You-Know-Who's soul that had survived within Harry Potter himself. Potter, then, had to go to the forest and allow himself to be killed, in order for the victory on He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named to be complete.'
Dean kept on reading, all the while with an amused voice. Harry had stopped following. He just sat there, staring into his pumpkin juice. She couldn't know - how did she guess - who told her - who knew?
"...I mean, how more ridiculous can she get? What's next, maybe you're Voldemort himself? Why stop at pieces of his soul, eh, Harry? ...Harry?" He jumped, hearing his name. Dean's smile was half-frozen on his face, and he was looking at him in confusion and shock. Around them, all the people sitting at the Gryffindor table were staring at him.
Rita Skeeter's reporting had sounded like fantastical nonsense to them, but Harry's reaction confirmed its authenticity. He realised that as soon as he looked at Hermione, her eyes big and shocked, and at Ron, his mouth slightly open.
No one said a single word.
"Excuse me," Harry muttered and got up, leaving the Great Hall behind him, wishing he had his invisibility cloak with him, so that he wouldn't see all the faces, staring at him, all the kids, looking at him, then muttering something to their friends, then looking again.
He didn't want to go back to the Gryffindor common room. It would soon be full of people, people who have all read the piece, people who have all heard how his reaction confirmed it all.
People who all knew he had a piece of Voldemort within him for 17 years.
He didn't want to face them, their curiosity, their questions... and everything that would come after.
Once again, he found himself instead climbing, ending up at the same place - the Astronomy tower. Another place he didn't really want to be - but one he couldn't resist returning to. At least one where no one would think of looking for him, he hoped.
No one except Ron, apparently. It wasn't ten minutes before he heard footsteps, and Ron's voice behind him. "So there you are," Ron said. Harry didn't reply, didn't turn around. He kept on sitting next to the school telescope, looking at the grounds, high above anyone else's line of sight.
He was almost surprised to see Ron sitting down next to him. He didn't think Ron would want to sit next to him. He wouldn't have.
"I haven't been back here since Dumbledore died," Harry said quietly. He wasn't sure why he was saying this - maybe it was another thing he had never shared with anyone, another secret whose time has come. Maybe he just wanted to talk about anything other than the article. Maybe he wanted Ron to know.
"We got back on brooms, see, and landed here," he pointed at the spot he remembered so well. "And then Dumbledore's spell froze me. And Malfoy came from here, and then Snape..." He was lost in memories for only a second - but still, long enough for Ron to speak.
"That's what was in Snape's memories?" Ron asked in a casual voice, unwilling to be deterred by Harry's rambling.
Harry nodded. "Dumbledore told him. To tell me. After he knew he was dying."
"And that's why you went there?"
Harry nodded again, saying nothing.
"You must have been scared out of your mind." It was a statement, a fact, not a question.
"There wasn't a choice. It's not just that he would have been after me for the rest of my life - he couldn't be killed, not until I was dead, too."
"Still doesn't mean you weren't scared," Ron pointed out.
"No," Harry agreed. "It doesn't."
"So that's how you survived? He only killed himself?"
"It was..." Harry's voice faltered. He thought of that night, of seeing his mother, his father, Sirius, Remus...
"The stone," Ron said quietly, then swore. "That's what it was, in the Snitch, wasn't it? The stone. From the ring."
"Yeah."
"The wand, the stone, the cloak..."
"Yeah. Master of death." Harry thought about that statement for a moment. "Apparently."
Ron swore again, and Harry couldn't help but smile. He still didn't dare to look at Ron - he was afraid of what he'd see. Pity, revulsion, appreciation, amazement - or perhaps that reverence he'd seen a couple of times. He couldn't stand any of these, not now. Not from Ron.
They stared at the grounds for a while in silence. Hagrid was down there, in front of the school, trimming a particularly nasty tree. The Ravenclaw Quidditch team was practicing in the cold wind, far away in the Quidditch pitch. They were awful, it was obvious this far away. They needed a new Keeper, and could use a different Beater or Two. An owl left the Owlery, screeching.
"I'm sorry it came out like that," Ron said, and Harry just nodded again. "But I'm not sorry it came out."
And at that, Harry finally looked at Ron. It wasn't pity. It wasn't revulsion or fear. It wasn't appreciation or amazement, and it wasn't reverence. Ron's face only reflected that he was talking to his best friend - and perhaps, that he was slightly worried.
"That thing's been eating away at you, Harry, ever since the war ended. We had no idea what happened in the forest, or how you survived, or why you even went there in the first place. Hermione said it's your need to make sure everyone was safe, that you wanted to make Voldemort think he had no reason to be worried anymore and let one of us finish the job. And man, when Neville came at him like that..." Ron chuckled. "But I knew something wasn't right. Not the way you've been keeping it all to yourself. I mean, why would you not tell us if this was the case? It was nothing to be ashamed about."
He seemed to consider his last words for a moment.
"This isn't nothing to be ashamed about, either. C'mon, it's not like you had any control over it, or that it affected you in any way - well," he amended, "changed you in any way, I should say."
Harry laughed. "Yeah, I think having a piece of Voldemort's soul kinda affected me, y'know." It felt good to laugh about it.
"Didn't affect who you are, though," Ron said quietly.
Down bellow them, Hermione, Ginny and Luna were walking towards Hagrid's hut, looking determined. Harry suspected they were thinking they'd see him there. Better stop them before they start getting worried, he thought, and got up. Ron got up after him.
"Thanks," Harry said quietly, catching Ron's eye for a second.
"C'mon, let's go. I'm dying to hear what new creatures Luna's heard about."
They started towards the stairs, speculating widely about Fraptering Fligwees or Bamkling Bajoolians.
Harry was relieved when they got back down and joined the girls. The girls were relieved as well - apparently, they had thought he went to hide at Hagrid's, and were quite worried when it turned out he wasn't there. Ginny and Hermione exchanged glances upon seeing him - obviously, wondering what they should say, what they shouldn't say, what was safe, what would be better left alone.
And Luna, as usual, simply didn't care. "Here you are, Harry," she said brightly. "We wondered whether you were going to sulk now that everyone knows you had a piece of Voldemort in you. Personally, I don't think it's that bad - he was a rather powerful wizard, and after all maybe you learned something from him. This is like the story of the wizard Phineas Paisley, who had nargles in his brain for three years, and managed to invent the self-stirring cauldrons in that time. He hasn't done anything remarkable afterwards, so I suppose now everything you do will be rather mediocre."
Hermione stared at Luna, her mouth open. Ginny did the same, but with mouth closed.
"Er, Luna," Ron started, but was startled at Harry's reaction - who just started laughing.
It was funny. Harry couldn't quite explain what was so funny about it, not to the rest of them. He knew the reason of Hermione's and Ginny's shock, knew his reactions in the past - and indeed, the way he had reacted just now - gave them every reason to be slightly worried about him. But in a way, Luna had managed to put it all into perspective. He knew it wasn't all Voldemort. He had done enough since Voldemort's soul had died, enough to know he had enough magic of his own.
In the end, all it meant was that he had nightmares for years, that he managed to read Voldemort's thoughts when it really mattered, and that it helped him survive.
"Maybe I should be thanking him," he managed to say between bursts of laughter. By now, even Hermione and Ginny allowed themselves to smile. Ron just looked at him incensed. They walked together to Hagrid's, all five of them, and Harry didn't mind one bit that the three had become five.
It was surprising, but they managed to have a good time all that day - until the feast in the evening. By then, Harry had filled Ron in on the meeting between Professor McGonagall and Kingsley, just as he told Hermione and Ginny the day before.
"Don't be thick," Ron pointed out, "what would they do with the Slytherin kids, sort them into the other houses? They've already been sorted!"
"Besides," Ginny pointed out, "no one will accept them in the other houses."
Harry wanted to protest, but realised she was right. No one would - especially not the older kids, those who had ties to Death Eaters, those who took the wrong stand the year before. But Hermione kept on looking nervously at McGonagall.
"You're not eating your pumpkin pie," Ron pointed out after the tenth time or so she turned around.
"I'm not feeling like - have you seen McGonagall?" she whispered at him and pointed at the Headmistress. Ron took a bite out of her plate, and turned to look where she pointed, Harry and Ginny following their gaze as well. McGonagall was not sitting to the dinner table, but instead arguing with Professor Slughorn. They both seemed upset.
Whatever their argument was about, it soon ended, and Professor Slughorn marched down the Slytherin table, patting a few students on the shoulder. Hestia and Flora Carrow got up and followed him immediately. Millicent Bullstrode looked at him confused, but also followed. Slughorn remained for almost a minute next to Theodore Nott. In the end, Nott shrugged and got up as well. He then went towards some of the younger kids - a boy Harry thought was called something-or-other Pritchard, another boy he recognised as Thomas Avery, and a few other younger kids he didn't recognise.
For a moment, Slughorn stopped next to Pancy Parkinson. Harry couldn't hear what he said to her, but she remained firmly seated, and Slughorn left the Great Hall, the group of Slytherins behind him.
"What's that all about?" Ron whispered, but before any of them could answer, Professor McGonagall addressed the room.
"Everyone, I'd like your attention, please!" she called. Most of the room hadn't noticed - the students of Hogwarts were deep into their pumpkin pie. Dennis Creevey was deep in conversation with Demelza Robins; Euan Abercrombie kept on hitting Romilda Vane with a giggling charm; over at the Ravenclaw table, Luna was deep into conversation with the Grey Lady, and Stewart Ackerley was shouting across the table at her to pass on the sugared apples; at the Hufflepuff table there seemed to be an animated discussion between Ernie Macmillan, Kevin Whitby and Eleanor Branstone. No one paid attention to the Slytherins - and only they remained completely quiet, frozen, looking at McGonagall with unhappy expressions.
"Attention!" Professor McGonagall shouted again, and the Great Hall became somewhat quieter. Finally, all that was needed was for someone to nudge Luna and draw her attention to McGonagall, and all conversation ceased.
"Thank you, Ms Lovegood," McGonagall said, looking even more ill-tempered than she did when she argued with Slughorn.
"Now that I have your undivided attention,I'm afraid I have some bad news, that will affect the entire school."
Harry stared at her, while whispers broke all around him.
"Quiet!" McGonagall called, and the whispers stopped. "As you undoubtedly know, there have been a lot of discussions lately in the Ministry of Magic regarding the school, in light of the last year. Despite my better judgement," she looked even angrier as she said that, "the Ministry together with the Board of Governors have made a decision regarding Slytherin House."
It took quite a longer time for McGonagall to stop the whispers this time. "It is the Ministry's wish that Slytherin House be dismantled. Those who have been sorted into Slytherin and are with no ties to Death Eaters will be split between the other three houses."
An almost uniform call of "No!" rose from three of the tables of Hogwarts. It seemed the members of the other houses were in total agreement - none of them wanted the Slytherins with them.
"Quiet!" McGonagall called again. "This is not up for discussion. That is all."
"But Professor, if they belonged in any of the other houses, they'd have been sorted there," said Ernie Macmillan, loud enough to be heard.
She looked at him for a moment, as if considering whether to answer or not, when someone else spoke - one of the Ravenclaws. "What about the Death Eaters? We don't want them!"
"Yeah," calls came up now from all three tables, loud and clear.
"No student in this school is a Death Eater, Stubbins," McGonagall almost shouted back.
"You know what I mean," Stubbins insisted. "They may not be, but their parents are! Like - " he turned to the table to point some fingers, Harry assumed, but stopped, confused. None of his possible targets was seated at the table.
McGonagall's lips were so thin that they appeared to have disappeared. "By decision of the Ministry," she said quietly, but the room was once again quiet, the students listening to her every word, "those students with ties to former Death Eaters... have been expelled of Hogwarts."
Stubbins cheered loudly - and he wasn't the only one.
"I'm not hungry," Harry muttered and got up. He had a feeling McGonagall's eyes were following him as he left the Great Hall.
It took about five minutes before Ron, Hermione and Ginny joined him - and they were at the middle of a heated discussion.
"I'm not saying they should have been expelled," Ginny said hotly, "but if they already are, you'd expect Pansy to be one of those expelled!"
"No one in her family is a Death Eater," Hermione pointed out.
"Yes, I know that, but - "
"But she was the one who wanted to turn me over to Voldemort last year," Harry completed the sentence for her. The other three jumped - they hadn't realised Harry was in the common room.
"If anyone deserves to be expelled, it's her," Ginny said, looking at him defiantly.
Harry didn't want to fight with Ginny, not over Pansy Parkinson. "I'd just prefer no one got expelled," he said.
"I know, Harry," she said softly. "But it doesn't work like that."
"Yeah."
Ron seemed of half a mind to tell them to go somewhere else, or even better, step away from each other. Harry sighed and threw himself into the armchair in front of the fire, afraid of starting a ridiculous argument with Ron over his expressions and hypocrisy regarding his sister.
That danger was soon gone, though - the portrait opened again, and instead of one of the Gryffindors, the person who walked into the room was Pansy Parkinson.
Ron froze; Hermione's lips became similar to McGonagall's, not long ago; and Ginny's nostrils flared.
"What are you doing here?" she demanded.
"Looks like I'm going to be your new roommate, Weasley," Pansy said in her usual sneer.
"You? In Gryffindor?"
"Well, I'd much rather stay in my old room in Slytherin, but as you might have heard, we're not allowed to be Slytherins anymore."
"You can't stay here," Ginny said.
Pansy stared at her, unfazed. "Fortunately, Weasley, you're not the one who gets to decide that."
"Gryffindors are supposed to be brave," Ginny almost spat the word at Pansy. "You don't qualify."
Pansy didn't answer, just stood there, her arms crossed, staring at Ginny with an expression of absolute loathing, which was mirrored on Ginny's own face.
They stood there, staring at each other, for a couple more seconds, when the portrait was opened once again, and the ending of the exact same discussion could be heard - this time between what sounded like Seamus, Dean and Professor McGonagall.
"You are not even a student at Hogwarts anymore, Mr Thomas," McGonagall said impatiently, "you are really not qualified to tell me which one of my students go where."
"But Professor, I thought bravery was a requirement to become a Gryffindor? Forgive me, but I don't think he qualifies."
"Well, I'm sorry, but your opinion is not required," said McGonagall, and stepped into the common room. "Oh, Ms Parkinson, you're here, good."
"We get her too?" Seamus looked disgusted. "Professor, you can't possibly be serious!"
"You are not getting anything, Mr Finnigan, seeing as much like Mr Thomas, you are no longer a student in this school."
"But - Professor, you can't possibly forget last year, when she - I mean - she wanted to turn Harry over to You-Know-Who!"
Pansy's pale face turned even whiter, but she still said nothing, and neither did she move.
"I remember perfectly well, Mr Finnigan, you may recall I was there too. The decision stands. Ms Weasley, Ms Granger, a word please? Ms Parkinson, please continue to your dormitories. Mr Finnigan, stop harassing me!" McGonagall turned aside with Hermione and Ginny, while Pansy climbed up to the seventh year girls' dormitory.
"Can you believe this?" Seamus didn't even try to whisper, but instead stared at Harry in dismay. "After what she did, they let her stay - and in Gryffindor!"
"Look, Seamus, it's not that I don't appreciate the sentiment," Harry started, half mumbling, and stopped at the look of Seamus's face.
"You're not going to start the 'forgive and forget' nonsense again, are you? She wanted to give you up to You-Know-Who!"
"I haven't forgotten," Harry answered, irritated. "And call him Voldemort, will you? He's dead, it's time people started using his name!"
"Alright, she wanted to turn you over to Voldemort!" Seamus almost shouted the name - it looked like it had taken quite an effort of him to speak it.
"I know, Seamus. I haven't forgotten, believe me."
"It'd be a bit ridiculous if you did," Seamus said grumpily, and Harry couldn't help but smile.
"Yeah, I don't think I'm going to forget that night any time soon."
Seamus said nothing in response, but his eyes had travelled to Harry's scar. If all the excitement made him forget about the article in the Prophet, or at least hope others have forgotten about it, he was mistaken. The slight look of revulsion on Seamus's face was all the reminder Harry needed, even if it was obvious Seamus didn't realise he was looking at Harry's scar in revulsion - and would have apologised profoundly if he did.
The return of Hermione and Ginny helped divert his attention somewhere else.
"What did McGonagall want?" he asked them.
"To ask us to give Pansy a break, and to get everyone else to do the same," said Hermione, and threw herself into another armchair.
"Like that's ever going to happen," Ginny muttered, and Seamus nodded in agreement.
The look on Seamus's face stayed with Harry long after they went to sleep, cluttering the seventh year boys' dormitories. Harry didn't need Seamus to talk in order to know what he was thinking - why didn't they expel the lot of them, get rid of all the Slytherins? He had no doubt there would be a lot of students and parents who would feel that way. Whatever the Ministry meant to do by dismantling Slytherin House, they had achieved the opposite. No one was going to forget where the new additions to their houses came from, no one was going to refer to those students as anything other than Slytherins - just like the Ministry, who were keeping track of those who had been in Slytherin House in their time, long after they had left Hogwarts.
Soon, the voices will start again, the same voices that had talked about Slytherin House and its problematic traditions now. They will go on how unsafe their children are together with the Slytherins, Harry thought. How disruptive the presence of the Slytherin students was in their new dormitories. Of their bad influence, even now that the children of Death Eaters were gone.
They will talk and talk and talk.
Harry wasn't sure when he fell asleep, but by the time he woke up, he realised he had made a decision.
-X-
"Oh, Rita, great to see you here," Harry smiled pleasantly. He was surprised to discover he wasn't faking his pleasantness. After everything that had happened in the past days and weeks, after he had made his decision, even Rita Skeeter didn't bother him much anymore.
And besides, this time, he needed her.
"So, Harry, they tell me you're going to make an announcement," she lowered her voice, as if telling a secret.
"Yup. And I want you to take it down - well, together with everyone else here."
"What is it? Are you going to hospitalise yourself? Are you starting to be worried about all the damage done by years of carrying You-Know-Who with you? Oh, I can just see the headline! 'Harry Potter: I'm afraid to be a danger to my surroundings!'" Her eyes sparkled as she imagined tomorrow's edition of the Prophet.
"Sorry, Rita," he laughed. "Not today. Today you're getting a different headline."
"Going to see some of those Muggle... what are they called? Psychidermists?"
"Psychiatrist. Nope. Still wrong."
She pouted. "I hope it's going to be good," she said, her voice becoming just slightly less kind, slightly more annoyed. "I promised the editor the most sensational story ever. There's only so much we can get out of the Carrows getting killed."
"Well, I'm not sure it's going to be more sensational than the bit about me having a piece of Voldemort's soul, but I don't think you're going to be too disappointed.
"Hi, everyone," he turned from her and towards the crowd. His conversation with Arthur from several months ago came back to his mind. This was the time when he could still call press conferences and make announcements. Best make this a big one, then.
"I've asked you to come here today because I have an announcement to make. Erm, it's not by accident I've asked you to come to the Ministry of Magic. It's sort of connected with the Ministry..."
He took a big breath. Here goes nothing.
"As probably all of you know, I've started Auror training with the Ministry several months ago. Catching dark wizards is important to me," he paused to the sound of appreciative laughter from somewhere in the crowd, and smiling, he continued, slightly more assured of himself. "As you guys know. And it's still a priority for me.
"But I'm afraid I can't do that any more as a part of the Ministry of Magic."
The cameras started clicking, their flash blinding him.
"The Ministry isn't dedicated any more to the capture of Death Eaters," he said, his voice growing louder. "Their recent steps have targeted not only those who have shown loyalty to Voldemort, but the entirety of Slytherin House. They have stopped looking at people's individual actions, and started marking anyone with connection to Slytherin. Despite the fact that there are Muggle-borns amongst those, and that we know of plenty of Slytherins who did not support Voldemort in the last war.
"In addition, the Ministry started using questionable methods in stopping Death Eaters. These days they're killing Death Eaters even when they can be captured, and torture people for information. The Ministry has forgotten that the danger from Death Eaters was not only ideas, but what they had done in order to achieve them.
"If we're going to become a better society, we need to mind the way we treat our enemies, too. Not just the good guys. As it is, I can't continue being a Ministry employee under these circumstances. I have given the Minister the announcement of my resignation a short while ago, and now I'm giving it to you. I'll be happy to return, once the Ministry returns to the way it's supposed to be. Meant to be. Thank you."
-X-
These are the things that Harry Potter doesn't ask Ron Weasley:
He doesn't ask how it's been for Ron, who always went where Harry led;
He doesn't ask whether it was frustrating, to not always be aware of the big picture;
He doesn't ask whether Ron knows how much his friendship means to him, how he looks back at his mad, mad life and can't imagine himself surviving without his friends, and Ron in particular;
He doesn't ask what he might find himself doing that would finally turn Ron away from him.
He knows the answer to all of these questions. All but one.
And he knows he's about to find the answer to that last one.