Chapter Thirty-Three: Complicated Reasons

The blood slid down the sidewalk, creating a small waterfall off the curb and into the gutter where it turned the accumulated slush a blushing pink. Sirens wailed in the distance, but Crom Cruach's followers swore the muggles would be delayed in time. They almost had enough.

Power pulsed against his tongue, sweet like honey comb, soft as hot blood against young skin. The shudders ran down his spine; his Priest was never far from His side, eager and willing to do whatever his God demanded of him.

Lights were on in almost all of the houses. His followers had rounded the adults into a herd in the street, on their knees, ready to worship their new lord for the small amount of time they were privileged to live and experience His glory.

The children, of course, were his first priority.

There was such a delectable range of youths for him to feast on. The thick cloud of despair was almost visible around the screaming adults – it made their slaughter all the more sweet to his taste.

He was gorged from the power. Sated, filled to bursting. He gathered it close to him and relished the feel; soon, soon on the day of longest night he would be able to raise his temple out of the Dark. He would bring back all that the shining gods had taken from him, cast away and shattered in their horrified fury.

Soon, yes, soon he would be able to take his revenge on all of them.

He gave the signal. His Priest released his followers from their order of restraint. The screams rose to a frenzied pitch around them. The power funneled through him, around him, over him. His followers raised their wands high and cast that strange spell they seemed to think he would understand, bother to even look at, beyond one cursory glance.

It was an ugly symbol, Crom Cruach ignored the skull and snake that exploded across the night sky. He always had liked his ways more.

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"The Dark Mark, sir! The Dark Mark has appeared in the sky over London!"

Rufus stared at the aide that had burst into the room. A slow turn had him facing the windows. Whole sections of London were lighting up, one by one.

"The muggles can see it," he said.

"Yes, sir."

"Alert the Aurors. Get the Unspeakables on the scene. We need to contain the muggles who are still alive." He rose, mind clicking over into that crystal clear battle-ready awareness he had lived with all throughout the first war with the Dark Lord.

"Colin!" One of the senior aides stepped into the room. "I want the whereabouts of every suspected Voldemort supporter on my desk as soon as possible."

"But –"

"No excuses. I want to know where they were, with whom and when. I won't have this happen again, not on my watch."

"Yes, sir!"

He forced his hands to relax. He took a deep breath and let it out. "Let's go," he said to the gathered crowd in his office.

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The Unspeakables flooded into Hogwarts in the hour before dawn. The snow had passed, leaving a bitter cold in its wake. The stars glittered from their distant seats overhead.

They passed through the ancient wards with all the power of the Ministry behind them. Dumbledore was roused from troubled dreams by the combined shouting of the collected Hogwarts headmasters' portraits.

In sleeping gown and cap, he and Minerva met the small mob in the long hall that led down to the dungeons. "What is the meaning of this?" It was late and the bitter chill had his joints aching.

"Minister Scrimgeour has authorized us to verify the location of al suspected Voldemort supporters."

"Then why are you in my school?"

The Unspeakable at the head of the pack turned his head and spat. "Don't play stupid, Headmaster Dumbledore. There are former Death Eaters in your school. We want to know their whereabouts for the entirety of this night."

"Simple. They were here."

"We will verify this on our own," the Unspeakable drew a rolled parchment from his robe. "We have the official seal of the Ministry. The entire council has approved this measure."

Minerva took it with a startled glance at Albus. "What has happened to enact such a measure?" His weakening power was still enough to keep the tense bundle of men held fast in the hall. He hoped he would be able to give Severus enough time.

"There has been a massacre in London," one of the men in the pack spoke up. "The Dark Mark appeared in the sky."

Albus' indrawn breath caught in his throat. "Gentlemen, we have been over this before. There is no one in Hogwarts who would do such a thing anymore."

"And we all know how trustworthy your judgment is. You must let us pass."

"He's right, Albus," Minerva spoke up. "We cannot stop them." She passed him the writ.

He scanned the elegant script. The edge crumpled under his fingers. "Fine. But I do ask, gentlemen, that you treat my professors – and students – with care and respect."

They did not bother to answer, pushing past him and Minerva without a backwards glance. The entire mob made for the stairs that led to the dungeons and the Slytherin dorms.

"They won't hurt them," Minerva's voice held steel and ice.

"We can hope."

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They were herded out of their rooms and questioned in the common room. Draco was rigid with tension the entire time. Harry couldn't help but feed off that tension, feeling his shoulders curl and his head start to throb from a nasty headache. His nose felt funny – he wiped the back of his hand across it and it came away smeared with blood.

"This one's bleeding," said a voice far too close to Harry for his liking.

He was grabbed by the collar of his shirt and dragged forward. Draco moved to protest, but a bevy of wands pointed at his head held him in place.

"Where were you tonight, Potter?"

He was the focus of attention. "In bed."

The hand on his shoulder shook him hard enough to rattle his teeth. "Where'd you get this blood then?"

"I've got a bloody nose."

A rough hand grabbed his chin and turned his face side to side. "Damn," the man let him go. "We've got nothing," the hand that held him pushed Harry back with careless strength. Draco caught him before he could fall. The Unspeakables drained from the room, leaving the younger years sniffling, hiding behind the few seventh years that had arranged themselves in a line between the children and the adults.

"What is going on?" Draco curled an arm around Harry's waist.

The room swam around Harry. "Blood on the streets," he swayed. "They're all dead." The last Unspeakable had yet to clear the door. The man stopped, turned and raised his wand.

"Maybe we were wrong," the Unspeakable said. Harry could not dodge. The stunner took down Draco and himself. The common room exploded into chaos around them. The last thing Harry remembered before the world went hazy and black was Professor Snape and the Headmaster charging into the room.

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"There was no cause for this to happen, Rufus," Dumbledore's anger made his magic fill the room. Harry huddled on the couch, squished between Draco and Professor Snape, trying not to move his aching head too much.

The new Minister of Magic stood on the far side of the room, flanked by a crowd of aides and Unspeakables. "I gave the order because it was the right thing to do, Albus. Obviously we have some rogue Death Eaters terrorizing the muggle and wizarding worlds with their attempts at some sort of dark ritual." Rufus' pale eyes shifted to rest on Harry. "Since your…Slytherin House has had the most contact with the Dark Lord's side and ancient rituals it was natural that the Unspeakables would come here." A muscle worked in his jaw. "Their methods, of course, could have been more polite. We have apologized for that breech in manners."

"Breech of manners –"

"Severus." Harry had never heard the Headmaster so angry.

"You understand our concern, Albus," Rufus continued. "This is a threat the wizarding world does not need at this time."

"Which threat, Rufus? The interference of the muggles or the threat of a revolt of rogue Death Eaters?"

"Both, of course," Harry glanced between the two men. There seemed to be something deeper than their conversation going on as the men spoke.

"You are fighting a losing battle, Rufus," the Headmaster clasped his hands behind his back.

"I will not be hobbled by the memory of a dark lord."

"Then do not fear the changes that are bound to affect our world."

"Changes? What changes, Albus? We have persevered in our isolation, and we both know why. To change this balance is to risk everything."

Blue eyes raked the Minister over. "Just as you have changed the balance between the wizarding world and the goblins?"

Harry felt Draco tense at his side. There was a ripple of unease that went through Scrimgeour's crowd.

"I did what I had to do."

"That is said by every tyrant – and victorious leader. I wonder what the histories will paint you as."

"You have little room to cast stones, old man."

"That I do. But I wonder, do you do what you do out of love for our world or out of fear?"

"I fear nothing."

"Strange, I fear many things. Fear makes us wise. A fool knows no fear."

"You call me a fool."

"If you do not fear."

Scrimgeour's hands were clenched so tight they shook. "How –"

The office door burst open, shattering the moment. Wands were out in a flash. Sirius stomped into the room, eyes and hair wild.

"Harry? Where's Harry?"

"I'm here." He started to rise, but Draco's hand on his arm stopped him.

"What – who are you people? What are you doing with Harry? You have no right to speak to him without his guardian present –"

"Which you are not," one of Scrimgeour's aides spoke up. "The Dursley's refused our summons. As such, the guardian ad litem, Professor Snape, was an acceptable substitute."

"I am Harry's godfather."

"And you have yet to fill out the required forms for transfer of guardianship," the aide pushed his glasses up his nose, causing the lenses to catch the lamplight and flash. "We have sent multiple copies."

Harry was struck by the guilty look that crossed Sirius' face. "I…was out of the country."

"I still demand to speak to him," Rufus focused on Dumbledore. "The Unspeakables said he spoke as if he knew what had happened. I want to know why. If you insist on his innocence, how did Mr. Potter know about the attack?"

There was a strained moment of silence. Harry met the Headmaster's gaze.

"Mr. Potter –"

"I took the Vision Potion," he spoke up. He heard Professor Snape's sharp intake of breath.

Scrimgeour turned on him, a vicious scowl set on his features. "You did what?"

Draco's hand dug into his back. "I took the Vision Potion – last year," he added. "It helped me find information to defeat Voldemort." Several wizards flinched at the name. "I took it a few times. It kind of…stays in your system after that."

"What are you telling me, young man? This potion has turned you into some kind of Seer?" Scrimgeour sneered the word.

"No," Sirius pushed forward, standing between Harry and the Minister. "Harry is fine. He's a normal teenager – he's not some seer."

Draco's thumb stroked over Harry's spine. "I just…know things, sometimes," he added.

"Not this again, Harry." Sirius turned a furious look on him.

"Be silent, Black." Scrimgeour took one measured step forward. "What did you see?"

"It was a dream," Harry licked his lips. "Just – scary stuff, you know? Lots of blood."

"And that told you an attack had happened?"

"No, I saw the – the blood on the sidewalk," he swallowed with some difficulty. "There were so many dead bodies, all in the street." He let out a long breath. "When the Unspeakables came…it just confirmed it."

"A dream and conjecture. It means nothing," Sirius shot a dark look at Harry. "He's a smart boy. Too gullible to other's manipulations." The last was ground out at Professor Snape.

"I manipulate nothing," Snape shot back.

Harry shivered under Scrimgeour's pale stare. "I see," the older man murmured. "We'll get to the bottom of this, Mr. Potter. You're coming with us."

"What?"

"Wait a minute!"

"Absolutely not!"

The Unspeakables drew their wands. Harry could feel everything shifting around him. "It's all right," he clamped a hand down on Draco's arm. "It's all right. I'll be fine."

"Harry, I told you this would happen! If you would just stop with the damned lies…"

"Sirius," he drew in a breath and stood, facing the animagus. "It's all just dreams and smarts, remember? You said it yourself. It'll be fine. Please don't fight."

"But…"

"Let's go, Mr. Potter." Scrimgeour stepped forward. "We'll see if these dreams of yours are real or not."

Professor Snape lurched off the couch, his face pale. Harry was frozen in place, bound by some spell he had not been able to detect. Draco's eyes were the last thing he saw before the whole world went white around him.

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Pythia's hands went still on her needlework. The Dark moved, the soft sounds of the abyss flaring for a moment. Things moved around her, shattered strands that unraveled and rebraided themselves before her eyes.

"Oh my," she managed to say before the pain caught her up and shattered her world to pieces.

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Gwen ap Nudd paused as he adjusted the buckle of his guard. There was a faint sound, like the memory of a scream – then it was gone. He frowned, the sour set of his stomach getting worse by the moment.

Erin stood at his side, watching him with large eyes. His flower maiden had refused to leave her rooms. Many of his lieutenants thought him too hasty. Erin had said nothing the entire time.

"Be good for Creiddylad while I am gone," his sword rested at his hip. He would be walking the paths into the darkness, not wanting to risk his steeds.

"I will."

"And stop putting bugs on her vanity."

Erin wrinkled her nose at him. "She should be nicer to you."

He let out a soft sigh and knelt. He held open his arms. "Forgive me, child, but I must go."

She folded herself against him. "I know," she said, her thin arms coming up around his neck. "You have to help her."

"Help who?"

"The lady with the feathers."

He drew back to look at her face. "Erin?"

Her eyes were full of stars. "It is all meant to be," she blinked. "One way or the other."

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There were too many people surrounding him. Voices babbled over each other. A sharp, stringent odor burned his nose. Hands invaded his space, touching him on his head, his arms, his legs. He tried to move away from them, but his ankles and wrists were held in place.

"Ng," he worked his mouth. It felt fuzzy and tasted worse. "Nng…no –"

"Ah, he's awake!" The cacophony around him rose to a new pitch. There was even more touching. Someone took a pinch of his skin and shook it, causing him to arch off the cold flat surface he was held to.

His eyes were blurry. That bothered him the most. He could not see the people around him, couldn't tell from which way the next touch would fall. It made his skin crawl and his breath come faster.

"Let me through! I say, let me through!"

Shit, Harry bit back a whimper. Fondorn's nasal tones drew closer.

"I am his personal Healer. I will run the tests!"

"You have no expertise in this field, Fondorn!"

"The boy seems to be in pain," remarked a new voice.

"Yes, I am," Harry rasped out.

"And cognizant, how wonderful. Murry, do you see this? Take notes."

Gee, thanks, Harry tried blinking fast. It did nothing to cure the blurriness.

"He is still my patient. I have been overseeing the boy's recovery."

"What recovery?"

"The abysmal injuries that those Malfoys inflicted on him –"

"What injuries?"

"…clearly driven the boy mad…"

"…Insanity could be the cause…"

"….Obviously have to test…"

"…Causation can lead to mental instability…"

Hurry, hurry, hurry, Harry swallowed against a dry throat. The world still felt odd around him, too tight, too fluid. Things were still shifting, he could almost…

" – I am his Healer and I will administer the veritaserum! No one else here is allowed to!"

…Almost see the strands shift and move as one player chose a path to walk, as another turned left at a crossroads instead of right – he could almost – yes, there, the pattern –

"You will remove yourselves from the vicinity of Mr. Potter this instant."

The welcome sound of Professor Snape's voice washed across Harry's skin. He came, I knew he'd come – just like what I saw…

"You have no authority here!" Fondorn spat.

Harry watched the tall, blurry form enter the room. Something pale was held up. "By writ of the council, I have every right to take Mr. Potter from this place. Minister Scrimgeour was too hasty in his snatch – even the head of our wondrous little government doesn't have the right to take a minor from Hogwarts without permission of his guardian."

"I-Impossible! Let me see that!" Fondorn snatched the writ from Snape's hand.

"You'll kindly release the child, if you please." The professor had his most insulting tone for the rest of the healers that surrounded the metal table where Harry lay.

"But…"

"How does…"

"Losing our experiment…"

"Now!" Snape's voice cracked out. The Healers all ducked and started like a class full of first year Hufflepuffs.

The straps around Harry's wrist and ankles slid away. He struggled to sit up. Professor Snape was at his side when he managed to swing his legs over the side of the table.

"All right, Harry?" Snape laid a gentle hand on Harry's shoulder.

"Just blurry, sir."

"You can not take him!" Fondorn bullied his way in front of them. "Mr. Potter is a sick young man. Sirius Black is his guardian and godfather, not you Snape. I don't know what kind of snake tricks you –"

A wand was pointed at the man's nose. "The writ is signed by the entire Wizengamot. Mr. Potter comes with me."

"But – but – but –"

"Come along, Harry." Snape helped him slide off the table. The world went woozy around him as he tried to stand. Snape scooped him up as everything began to tilt and fall.

"You see? He's clearly unwell."

"I have plenty to say about you and your so-called abilities, Fondorn. For the moment, though, they must be set aside. You will step away and allow us to leave."

"But…"

"It's a real writ, Fondorn, you twit. Let him go!" Someone hissed.

Harry rested his head against Snape's shoulder as silence fell over the room. He felt Snape's hold grow tight – then, they were moving, the Potion Master's long strides eating up the distance between them and freedom. Harry curled a hand in the man's robe and closed his eyes. He'd known the man would come. He couldn't help the small part of his heart that had hoped Sirius would have come as well.

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Later, curled up in the corner of the couch in Professor Snape's office, he rode out the older man's prickly wrath.

"You should have said nothing," the Potions Master paced in tight circles before the hearth.

"They would have taken me whether I told them or not."

"You risk too much, Mr. Potter!"

Harry flinched. "I'm sorry."

The older man stopped pacing. "Mr. Potter – Harry." He let out a harsh breath. "Do you have any idea what they could have done to you?"

"Yes."

"The tests, the – what?"

Harry drew his knees to his chest. "I know what they can do to me. I know very well what they can do to me."

A dark robe appeared before him. Severus knelt down so they were eye to eye with each other. "Are you saying that you knew this would happen?"

He paused. "Yes," he admitted.

"Why did you not tell us?"

Harry ducked his head. "It's because of…Sirius." He drew in a sharp breath. "He'll – he'll be able to write it off now, won't he? The Healers had me, their initial tests proved nothing. He – he won't have to worry –"

Hands wrapped around his shoulders. "You idiotic boy. That is no reason, none, to have risked yourself for that."

"I'll be under his house for the next two years," Harry said. "I have to figure something out. I can't keep lying that long. I don't want to."

"You would subject yourself to this mad plan instead?"

"If it worked? Then yes."

"Harry…" The hands tightened their grip, but never to the point of pain. "Did Draco know of this?"

"No. He wouldn't have let me go through with it."

The hands released him. "Merlin save me from foolish Gryffindor plans." Harry risked a glance at the man. Severus sat back on his heels, faced turned in profile as he studied something on the far side of the room.

"It wasn't that foolish," he picked at the threads of his pants. "They needed a target, anyhow."

Severus' gaze snapped back to Harry's face. "Care to repeat that, young man?"

"The attack scares them," Harry ran his thumb along a ragged patch of his trousers. "They have no suspects and a lot of dead muggles. Scrimgeour needed something he can report to the newspapers – saying that they had a lead and are investigating it. That way Scrimgeour isn't left to look like a fool the first days of his office. If he has a goal, a target to tell the people about, then they won't lose their faith in him like people did with Fudge."

"You decided this?"

He let out a soft sigh. "Fate seems to be the one who thinks I'm the best distraction, really."

"I don not believe in fate, Mr. Potter. We create our own destinies."

"Sometimes," Harry rested a chin on his knee. "And sometimes fate decides to believe in you."

"Words of wisdom from your oracle?" Severus rose to his feet in fits and starts, the hard set of his mouth white with anger.

"Yes," Harry watched the man move around the room. "Where's Draco?"

"Young Mr. Malfoy was collected by his father to go speak to the Wizengamot."

"Mr. Malfoy and Draco got the writ?"

"And the Headmaster," Severus stopped in front of the crackling fire. "It was a near thing."

"You had time. They were fighting amongst themselves for the most part."

"One test, just one, Mr. Potter and they could have laid your medical history out for all to see."

"You don't want people to know about the potions?"

"That is not –," the man stopped and took a long, deep breath. "You have broken several ministry laws by ingesting the Vision Potion. You have admitted this in front of the Minister. Whatever debt you have with them is now wiped clean, Harry. Someone will leak the news."

"Of course they will," Harry tilted his head to one side. "It's one of the reasons why I told them. If I say it, citing my reasons about Voldemort, then it won't look like I'm hiding anything. They would have found out about it, one way or the other. They already had the rumors, plus the statement from that first year Slytherin student." A thought occurred to him. "I thought Fudge was the one with the proof of my taking the potion, not Scrimgeour."

Severus went very still. "You are right, Mr. Potter. Our missing first year never returned to Hogwarts. We were told her family relocated to the United States." The Potions Master turned to face Harry. "The records of the interrogation would be there. If Scrimgeour had half a brain he would have questioned all of Fudge's staff before dismissing them. He would have heard rumors about your indiscretions, I would wager." Long, thin fingers tapped against his robe. "Scrimgeour was simply looking to verify the fact. Without the need of a child's interrogation to prove it."

Harry felt his stomach sour. "I read it all wrong, didn't I?"

Severus frowned, but seemed more puzzled than angry. "I do not know, Harry." His gaze sharpened as he looked at the boy. "Do not do this again, Harry. We are here to help you – something which we cannot do if you do not tell us these things."

"Yes, sir." He ducked his head. "I'm sorry." He risked a glance up at the man. "What do you think will happen now?"

Severus' hands tightened around his arms. "I do not know, but I am sure we will be informed tomorrow morning." A smile that was anything but twisted his face. "Or I should say, later today."

"Will it be bad?"

"Merlin only knows, Mr. Potter." Severus lowered himself in the chair next to the couch. "Is there anything else you wish to disclose to me at this moment?"

Harry caught his lower lip between his teeth. Flashes of dreams shot through his mind. "I…no. I don't think so…I can't tell for sure."

"When you are sure, be sure to inform us," the lack of a glare took some of the sting from the words. "You should return to your room. The Mr. Malfoys should be returning soon."

"What's kept them?"

"Malfoy matters, I suspect," the sigh was weary.

Harry uncurled from his spot on the couch. He hesitated as he stood, glancing down at the older man. "Thank you for coming to get me."

"I would never have left you there, Harry."

Harry's heart constricted. "Thank you," was all he managed to say and fled.

End Chapter Thirty-Three