Disclaimer: I don't own the world of Harry Potter. I'm not making money off of this story. Don't sue me, please.
Chapter Six: ConversationsSirius paced the length of the formal dining room. The table was in splinters, the chairs were overturned and the sideboard was half in and half out one of the large windows that lined the room.
Remus was watching his lover from the door. He had his arms crossed over his chest to hide the tremors in his hands. Sirius' rage was close to calling the wolf that slept in his blood; every time the animagus shattered another object, the wolf came closer to coming out.
"This is impossible!" Sirius stopped pacing. He put his hands on the heavy oak mantle and let his chin drop to his chest. "Harry…he…" The animagus gulped down a few breaths. "This can't be happening."
Remus wanted to agree. Remus wanted to be smashing things along with his lover. But that was not what Sirius needed at the moment.
"The Headmaster says he's in a safe place," he pointed out.
"This is a safe place," Sirius roared back.
Remus winced. "I know that."
The animagus sighed and raised his head. "I'm sorry, Moony."
Remus pressed his lips together and said nothing.
"It's just…every time I think something is going to work out with Harry, something snatches it from my grasp." Sirius held his hands in front of his face. "It's like some sick joke. To put him so close and then to snap him away again."
"The Minister hasn't responded?"
"Of course he has. But the letters never say anything I want to hear. They're looking into the disappearance," the animagus dropped his hands and snorted. "Of course the last letter I got said Harry had left the house voluntarily."
Remus went still. "What?"
"Haven't you been reading the papers?"
"No." Remus hadn't been able to look at a newsprint for days. The incendiary reports all called the wolf too close to the surface.
Sirius righted one of the chairs and sank into it. He buried his face in his hands. "The Minister has lost his platform of good family values since Harry's gone and that massacre in Portsmouth. He's changed his stance to one of fear mongering. He's boasting that he was the Minister that got us through the Second War and that he would be able to get us through this 'new dark time'." Bitterness dripped from the last three words.
"What new dark time?"
"Fudge hasn't the balls to out Harry as a new Dark Lord, but the press is doing it for him." Sirius let out a laugh that was half sob. "All the papers but the Daily Prophet have joined the speculation game. We need Harry, Remus. Then we need a press conference and a crew of public relations people."
Remus chanced a step into the room. "Surely people can't be that stupid." He approached the other man. "Harry died to save the world. A god's mercy brought him back. The people must remember that." He placed a hand on the other man's shoulder.
Sirius turned and wrapped his arms around Remus' waist, burying his face in the werewolf's stomach. "They have to remember, Moony. Something has to be done."
Remus put a hand on the dark hair. He stared out the broken window, eyes unfocused. "They'll remember, Padfoot. Have a little faith. You'll see."
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Sasha pushed her way through the crowd. Her cousin was behind her somewhere; the rotund man was too timid to shove elbows, feet and hands into people to get them to move. Sasha had no such qualms.
The man on the soapbox continued to speak. "For decades the wizarding world has been subject to one oppressive Dark Lord after another! It is because we have lost our faith in the word of God! We must come back to the faith! Even now, when all these false idols arise and conjure dark magic, dark desires of our hearts, we must be strong. See how God has forsaken us in this our hour of betrayal to Him! We have turned our backs to His word and behold another Dark Lord has risen…"
She had a clear shot. She pointed the wand she had purchased in Knockturn Alley at the man. "Sil…"
A hand clamped over her mouth. She struggled against the hold, kicking back with her shoes and scratching at the hand and face of the person holding her. She was pulled into a side alley and let go. She spun around. "How dare you…"
Seamus had red marks decorating his hands and cheeks. "Hi, Sasha," he said.
She narrowed her eyes at him. "What are you doing? You interrupted me! I was going to…"
"Get yourself killed." He butted in.
"He's spouting lies!"
"He's surrounded five deep by people who believe that he's speaking for the one God."
"Like you?"
He looked stricken and Sasha closed her eyes. "Seamus…"
"You of all people know me better than that."
"I'm sorry."
"After all I did…"
"Would you shut up!" Sasha opened her eyes and glared at him. "I said I was sorry!" She had her hands clenched into fists at her sides.
His smile caught her by surprise. "That's the Sasha I remember."
"Gryffindors!" The word was supposed to come out as a curse.
He bowed.
She tossed her hair over her shoulder and turned away. "So what were you doing here?"
"I was going to curse the bastard, just like you."
"Why did you stop me then?"
He stepped close and took her elbow. He guided her to the end of the alley. "One curse would make him a martyr. But look over there." He pointed towards the ice cream shop. Sasha recognized a bunch of Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, most of them having been six and seventh years with her. "Watch what they're about to do."
"How do you know…"
As one, the students stood, drew their wands and cast. Words in Potter's defense rose into the air, some of the charms animating into speech as the adults on the street began to help. Soon the lone man's ranting was drowned out by a hundred voices, leaving him in an irate silence.
Sasha rocked back onto her heels. "Well then," she muttered. "That's much better."
"See? By taking him out, it would have given the man some credence." Seamus was standing close to her side. "And his crowd of interested people would have torn both me and you apart. They can't attack the others because there's too many."
Sasha pursed her lips and nodded. "You're right." She gave him a narrow look. "Don't get used to it."
"I wouldn't dream of it."
"Sasha!" Her cousin's voice was a thin note amongst the cacophony that lingered in the street. She let out a breath and turned to the boy.
"I have to go."
He touched her face, cupping her cheek with one large hand. "I've missed you."
She swallowed. "I missed you too."
"I'll see you soon?"
"Of course."
"Sasha!"
She shook her head. "I have to go."
Seamus leaned down and kissed her. She curled her hands into his robes, the voice of her cousin fading from her mind. Seamus drew back, his face flushed. "You should go."
"I…" Her hands were not obeying her.
He helped her pry them away from his robes. "I'll see you soon." He stepped away, the blush on his face fading. "Be careful," he said.
She swallowed and nodded. "You too," she whispered, turned and ran to where her cousin was waiting. She didn't look back.
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Harry's new room was next door to Draco's, the old one having been too damaged for him to stay in. Draco had been quick to install Harry in the bedroom closest to him.
Harry had not seen much of the Manor since. Professor Snape had been adamant that he stay in bed, eat and regain his strength. And to drink all the potions the man brought to his room. Harry did as he said, but never told the man that all his potions were not working.
He was sitting on one of the plush wing-backed chairs when Snape entered the room. He knew it was the Potions Master by the precise triple knock; Draco barely knocked at all and the older Mr. Malfoy had never visited Harry in his room.
Harry put down the book he was studying. They stared at each other for a long moment before he dropped his gaze and looked towards the roaring fire.
"I have brought your potions," Professor Snape said.
"Thank you, sir."
The man moved further into the room, setting the line of vials on the small table by Harry's elbow. He folded his hands into his sleeves and stared at Harry.
"What?"
"You have not regained your color."
"Well, I've been indoors."
Professor Snape looked away. "They are not working, are they." It wasn't a question.
"No, sir," Harry said after a moment.
Snape turned and took the other seat in the room. "I did not believe Healer Fabing at first. These potions should be restoring your nerves. But," the man broke off with a terse sigh. "We shall have to try something different."
Harry closed his book. "It's possible they will never get better." Healer Fabing had not coated the truth for him.
The older man shook his head. "I do not believe that, Mr. Potter."
Harry looked away. "It's better to be prepared for the worst."
"But that does not mean to give up hope."
Harry laughed. "I didn't think you were an optimist, sir."
Severus frowned. "You need not be so formal, Mr. Potter."
Harry shrugged. "What would you have me call you, then?"
The Potions Master did not reply. Instead he stared into the fire and folded his hands in his lap. 'There are several treatments I have read about that we may try." He swallowed. "Harry."
The boy blinked. "What kind of treatments?"
"Experimental potions. I have several contacts in the Potions world. Many who have specialized in Healing." He gave a graceful shrug. "They would know more than I."
"That…would be good."
"Have you thought any more on what we were discussing yesterday?"
Harry tried to keep a clamp on his temper. The older man would not give up his search. "I wasn't abused."
"You should still speak to someone about what you have experienced."
"I don't know why you keep badgering me about this." Harry shifted in his seat. "All you have is a guess and against my word and the Dursley's, it won't hold up."
"I do not have a guess, Harry."
"Really?" Harry's control on his temper broke. "Then how do you know?"
The Potion Master's glittering gaze made Harry's skin crawl. "Your memories, Mr. Potter. They are in the forefront of your mind every time we speak of this."
"You," Harry surged out of his seat. The world tilted until strong hands caught him. He jerked away. "What, you read my mind? Is that what all these potions were for?" He tried to step away, but had to catch himself against the back of a chair. Severus let his go. "You had no right to snoop around in my mind!"
"Mr. Potter. Harry," Severus took a step towards him. "I am a Legilimens. It means I can see your thoughts when you speak to me. They are there for any to read who have the talent. The Headmaster, for example." The man's mouth twisted into a sneer. "He knew how you felt. He knew how you would react to certain…stimuli. He played on your hopes, fears and this ridiculous notion that you alone must save the world that he has instilled in you."
"You still had no right!" Harry looked away from the dark eyes. He missed his glasses for a long moment. They had helped to keep a barrier between him and the world at times.
"Harry…"
"No." Stumbling, he turned away and made for the window. His legs were trembling and he felt weak. "If you can read my mind, then you know they never hit me. So I'm not abused and you can just shut up about it!" Shocked, he clicked his mouth shut, hunched his shoulders and waited for the man's explosion.
Instead he got two warm hands on his shoulders, guiding him back to his chair. "Harry." Severus knelt in front of his chair so they were eye level with each other. "There are many types of abuse in this world. Neglect is just as damaging as the others. Your relatives had no right to treat you as they did."
"Have you known all along?" Harry swallowed past the lump in his throat.
Severus shook his head. "I have never read you, Mr. Potter. I do not go around rummaging through children's minds. I suffer enough of their foolishness when they speak out loud."
That drew a grudging laugh from the boy. He quickly sobered. "Sir," he sighed. "It really wasn't that bad."
The dark eyes never broke from his. "You and I know that is a lie."
Harry could feel a hot flush spread across his face. "I can't…" He pressed his lips together and looked away. "You won't tell Draco, will you?"
"I would not betray your secret."
"But you still want me to talk to someone?"
"Yes."
"But not you."
"I…would not be ideal."
Harry balled his hands into his robes. "They'll think I'm crazy or something."
"Who will?"
He shrugged. "Everyone."
Severus opened his mouth and then closed it. A glint entered his eyes. "Would you consent to talk to Healer Fabing? Or perhaps Auror Rayne?"
"Them? But…" Harry frowned. "Healer Fabing is a regular Healer, isn't he? And Auror Rayne's gotten into enough trouble because of me."
"Aaron has some experience in counseling. As for Auror Rayne," Severus shrugged. "All Aurors go through training."
Harry felt hope bloom in his chest. "That…" He caught his lower lip between his teeth. "I could do that."
"Which would you prefer?"
Harry hesitated. "Auror Rayne…if he agrees," he added.
Severus stood. "Excellent." His hands disappeared once more into his robes. "And…if for any reason you are uncomfortable with either of these men, we will find someone else whom you do like. Even myself, although I shall warn you now I do not have much experience. But we will figure it out, nonetheless."
"Thank you, sir." Harry kept his eyes locked on his knees. A hand made contact with his shoulder, squeezed and let go. By the time Harry looked up, the older man was gone.
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Lucius had sight of his prey.
Nicole was at his side, a grim expression on her face. "What now, Mr. Malfoy?"
Lucius rapped his cane on the ground. "I want a diversion."
She blinked at him. "What?"
The pale eyebrows drew together. "Do try to be intelligent, Ms. Rousse. I know you have the wits for it. I want a distraction."
She narrowed her eyes as she looked out over the crowd. The busy bustle of Diagon Alley washed over them. "The Daily Prophet has not had a lottery drawing for some time," she ventured.
"A thousand galleons. Make it quick."
She nodded and turned on her heel, bolting through the back door of the Prophet offices. Lucius stayed in the shadows, his eyes never leaving the man who had started the ruckus that had set his plans on hold.
Since the man Dangle's disastrous post in the Prophet, Lucius' attempt to purchase the land needed for a temple had been in vain. Public opinion was swinging wildly throughout the wizarding world as Fudge and Scrimgeour debated for the position of Minister. Lucius had not been pleased.
Since Dangle had been fired, he had put out his own paper, called The Wizard's Truth. The contents, Lucius had read, were pure fabrication as best as he could tell. The man was taking money from Fudge – that much Lucius' contacts at the Ministry had turned up. The propaganda of hate and fear that blasted through the man's paper had stirred up problems for many people and their causes. The call for a temple to all gods had been a particular target, as well as the mental and moral status of one Mr. Harry Potter.
Lucius had decided that enough was enough.
A sudden burst of noise from the Daily Prophet's front entrance did not make him flinch. He listened as an enthusiastic Rousse used a sonorus charm to gather people for the money drawing. Dangle stayed at his seat on the café patio, a distasteful sneer plastered across his face.
Once the street was clear of witnesses, Lucius made his move. Placing a notice-me-not spell over the café and its patio, he was on the man before Dangle could react.
He had his cane across the plump neck and a knee in the man's groin, pinning him to the ground. Dangle gurgled, whined and went white, his eyes rolling in his head as Lucius put more weight across the length of his cane.
"Mr. Dangle," Lucius purred. "I'm so glad to have caught you." He smiled and the man fainted.
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The Morrigan had her hands on her hips and a scowl on her face.
The scent she had caught was gone. It was a foul scent, like carcasses rotting in the sun. The smell unsettled her, but she could not place why. Her memories were still full of holes and she knew the information she needed was there, somewhere.
Morrigan?
Her head came up at the soft tendril of thought. Her dream child was calling her, the first time he had ever reached out voluntarily. She pushed the troubling thoughts aside, focused on the boy and stepped Away.
She found the boy curled up on a chair in front of a fire that had almost burned itself out. He had dark circles under his eyes and a miserable expression on his face.
"Child?" She was at his side in a second.
He turned to her and she saw the unshed tears in his eyes. She touched the dark hair. "What has happened? Are you alright? Has…"
He threw his arms around her and buried his face where her shoulder met her neck. Stunned, it took her a moment to respond. It was long enough to make the boy tense and try to pull away. She wrapped her arms around him and drew his close.
"Harry. Oh child. What is wrong?" She ran a hand over the dark, silky hair.
"I don't…I just…" The boy drew in a shuddering breath. "I didn't know who else to talk to and, and…"
She drew him off the chair. "Tell me," she said.
"I agreed to talk to Auror Rayne."
"The blond man who would watch your house."
"Yes."
"And?"
"Professor Snape…he…he knew…"
"About those relatives of yours?"
"You knew too?" The plaintive note in the boy's voice made her sigh.
"Harry, I am a god. I see the truth in the souls of men. I knew from the moment I met you."
The thin arms tightened around her neck. "Snape made me, well, he didn't make me. But he wants me to talk to someone, and I said I would, but now it's just…"
The Morrigan rested her chin on top of the dark hair. "Now that you've made the decision, all of the memories are coming back?"
"Yeah."
"And then you called me."
"I'm sorry."
She drew away so she could see his face. "Why ever for?"
He tried to move away. She didn't let him. "I…you're probably busy. I just didn't know…"
"No, no." She tucked him against her side. "I wasn't busy at all." A flick of power made the fire roar up. "Now. You are confused?"
He paused. "A little."
"About what happened to you?"
He fiddled with the hem of his shirt. "Sort of. I mean, it wasn't that bad. There are a lot more that have it worse than me. I shouldn't," he shook his head and trailed off.
"Trauma is trauma." She turned her eyes to the flames. "There is no rank to it. One does not trump the other."
He drew in a long, slow breath. "Then why do I feel so stupid?"
"Do not use that word, child. You are anything but."
"Then," the boy frowned. "Then what am I feeling?" He shrugged. "It feels like I shouldn't be talking about this. I feel like people are just making too much of it. I feel…" The boy sat up. "Ashamed?" He blinked and looked at her. "Why do I feel ashamed?"
She nodded. "That is a good question. May I tell you a story?"
He gave her a look, but nodded.
She settled back against the chair. "In my day, such things were not common. There were some bad parents, yes. And life was much more difficult, but the people knew that if they transgressed across the lines of propriety, they would be punished. And the children then also knew that there would always be god that would answer their prayers and intercede on their behalf."
"Really?"
"Yes." She slid an arm across his shoulders and shifted. "But, when the people's faith faded, the gods slept. And they could no longer answer the prayers of the people and especially the children. Then the One God's priests came and hammered the thought that children are the property of their parents and as such, had to honor and obey them no matter what."
"That's horrible."
"Indeed. Now, the priests of the One God's rule of thought has shaped this world. So deeply that the idea of a child being punished by their parents, or relatives, is taken as a matter of course, no matter how severe that punishment is."
"But…"
"I am not finished." She pulled on a strand of his hair. "Now, this idea that the children deserve whatever they get from their elders has become ingrained in the world. You learn it as you suck down your mother's milk. It is a silent rule and one that needs to be shattered."
"Do you think it will?"
"The gods are back, Harry. The children – all the children – have someone to call on, even though they may not know our names." She brushed a kiss across the top of his head. "You helped that happen, child. Keep that in mind every time you feel ashamed. It is a false reaction to an attitude that is beyond barbaric. And that no matter how small you think it is, such actions should never have taken place. Never."
She could feel him draw in a breath and then burrow deeper into her side. "Thank you," the words were soft.
She rested her cheek against his hair. "Do not thank me for the truth, child." She smiled and watched the flames twist in the hearth. "I shall always be here should you need me. I will always listen."
The boy said nothing, but stayed close to her side. Together they watched the red-gold fire burn, the light from the fire reflecting off the scattered points of light in their eyes.
End Chapter Six
A/N: Thank you for all the wonderful reviews!