A Knut to Start the Revolution
Chapter 4
Disclaimer: This work of fan-fiction is not intended for personal profit. All characters utilized herein which are not creations of myself belong to J. K. Rowling.
Hermione spluttered loudly, "Minister for Magic? Have you gone barmy? You're not even seventeen for Heaven's sake!"
She breathed deeply and then, after a few moments, let out a hollow chuckle.
"I'm sorry, Harry, but if I think it's more funny than serious, think of how the rest of the Wizarding World is going to view you. Please, let's think of some other way to handle this… justice-seeking thing you have."
Harry was implacable as he said, "No, Hermione. I'm going to run for Minister for Magic and that's that. I don't care what I have to do to get recognised in order to stand for election. By rights I'm more an adult than some of those idiots on the Wizengamot, considering what I've been through. You should know, you've been right there with me along with Ron. Please, Hermione. You've always liked tilting at windmills, haven't you? Remember SPEW?"
He almost chuckled as Hermione's automatic, "That's S.P.E.W., Harry, not SPEW. Honestly!"
She went on to say, "It's true that I want to combat injustice, but this… this idea of yours is utterly impractical! Honestly, a sixteen-year-old Minister for Magic! Well, you could do a sight better than Fudge, I must say."
Good, she's coming around, thought Harry. She also didn't realise it but she'd left herself open for the hook-line-and-sinker statement.
The raven-haired wizard zeroed in as he said, "Do you remember how almost none of the house-elves at Hogwarts believe in what you have to say about house-elf freedom, even after about a year and a half? Dobby's the exception, not the rule. And honestly – have any of the other students besides me and Ron bought your S.P.E.W. badges, or even asked about it? This idea of mine is no less audacious, and I say the odds of success are a fair bit higher!"
Hermione was stuck, and she knew it, because she said, "I—Argh! I was all ready for a comeback, and then I realised… blast it, you're right. For once, you're right. Fine, I'll sign on, albeit under protest, Harry!"
He grinned and said, "Glad to have you on board, Hermione. You're my campaign manager and official researcher. I need to know everything about how one gets rid of the incumbent Minister and then stands for election."
"Well, I think the Minister is chosen by the Wizengamot. Strange, I know, but there it is. I'll get back to you about the entire process later. As much as I hate to say it, you should get hold of Fred and George Weasley. They're immensely popular with a lot of people, and getting them to spread the word would be some of the best publicity."
Harry had been obliquely considering it, but her statement still came out of the blue, zinging him as he realised Hermione had a very good point.
"Great idea, Hermione! I'd better ring off now; I want to start working on my public speeches and things like that."
Laughing, Hermione said, "When you go shopping for your fancy new dress robes, bring me along, would you? If you had your way you'd probably buy everything in black, and you're not going to a funeral, for God's sake. Eugh!"
Oh, God. Dress robes. Public speaking. Harry started feeling butterflies in his stomach.
Nervously, Harry said, "Er… can I back out now?"
Her reply was firm. "Not a chance, Harry. You've convinced me, more or less, and if you can convince me you can convince a lot of other people."
Not that he'd tried that hard to back out. He said, "Okay, I'll call you back in a day or so."
"Goodbye, Harry!"
"Likewise."
He placed the telephone receiver back on the hook and said to himself, "Merlin on a crutch, what have I done?"
His hands sweated as he imagined himself in Diagon Alley, making speeches, or having to shake hands with random strangers. He wondered how he would react to the inevitable detractor who might likely attack him physically. And beyond all that, what would Voldemort do? Even if Harry had very good Occlumency shields, there was still the chance that Voldemort could attempt a possession of Harry in public, doing him irreparable damage in terms of credibility.
Fuck. I'm just going to forget about all this for now. I can handle wand work and Defence a lot better than politics, mused Harry as he flopped on his bed, having desultorily grabbed Fighting Fire with Fire: How to Remain Legal and Best Your Enemies, by Alastor Moody.
Mad-Eye may have believed in bringing in Death Eaters alive, but that clearly did not mean he had to be nice in doing so, and the limited-printing book, meant for Aurors only (with special dispensation to Hogwarts' library to keep a copy) was chock-full of handy spells and tips. Harry had already read of creative tactics such as the use of the Summoning Charm or Banishment Charm to distract and confuse enemies. He remembered the epic battle between Voldemort and Dumbledore at the Ministry, where the aged Headmaster had used animation, transfiguration and summoning spells with effortless ease to defend against Voldemort's attacks and even launch some of his own.
Frankly, any spell was dangerous if applied with the desire to kill or maim. In that respect it was not so different from the use of a knife. The analogy that came to his mind was the difference between a knife and a grenade. A knife had uses other than harm and death. One could chop an apple, or slice someone's throat.
But a grenade had only one purpose – to harm another person or group of people. In that respect, by analogy, the three Unforgivables clearly had no redeeming use whatsoever. It had been argued in Defensive Magic, Light and Dark, by Robin Banks, that the Imperius Curse could have had valid uses in psychiatry, but Harry thought the man rather missed the point. He had a feeling – nothing more, but a fairly strong one – that the use of an Unforgivable affected the user, somehow.
Guiltily, he thought of his own attempted use of the Cruciatus on Bellatrix Lestrange. If he took her words at face value (which he was reluctant to do; she was clearly a bit batty), then to actually use that curse, you had to be able to summon up feelings of hate and anger at a moment's notice.
What does that do to a person, that capability?
Harry pondered on this; he was not enthusiastic about the implications. Severus Snape was a former Death Eater, and certainly nobody was running around nominating him for "best friend of old ladies and little dogs" awards – and this was a man who had tried for some kind of redemption by spying for Dumbledore. He could only imagine how much more spiteful and mean Snape would be if he were a full-time, true Death Eater.
At that point, his closed his eyes and thanked whatever Deities might remotely exist in some vaguely possible manner that he couldn't cast the Unforgivable curses. If he'd used the Cruciatus once, and found he enjoyed causing pain, how much longer before he would desire to use it again–and again–and again–until he was insane like Lestrange?
Even those who argued the use of the Killing Curse as a form of euthanasia were reaching a bit, Harry felt. There were any number of potions which would do the job just as effectively, and heaven only knew how many Muggle drugs could accomplish it, too. Morphine overdose, he vaguely remembered from some show on the telly Dudley had been forced to watch for a school project (Harry thought it had been the only time Dudley had ever put on the BBC), was reported to be one of the pleasanter methods.
No, the true danger of the Unforgivables wasn't in their effects; it was the fact that they epitomised the ultimate danger of Dark Arts – the temptation and seduction to control and manipulate other human beings with no concern for their thoughts or feelings. And in that respect they were very much like the hand grenade.
To that end, Harry realised, Mad-Eye Moody's book was proof that to do what was necessary (be prepared to defeat Death Eaters), one did not necessarily have to stoop to their level, but one did have to be prepared to be swift of foot and movement, have good situational awareness, and remember that Death Eaters aren't impressed by mastery of the Levitation Charm.
Harry made a note to see about a physical fitness regime. It would do no good to be less agile than the opposing Death Eater, especially not if he wanted to form that elite squad he had his notions about.
/\/\/\
Some time later, an unfamiliar owl pecked at the window, and Harry, wand out and ready just in case, although he was not allowed to use it, walked over and let the owl in. It unceremoniously dropped its envelope on Harry's bed, and swooped back out the window. He noticed it had a Magical Law Enforcement seal on it, and the envelope was addressed with the usual "Harry Potter, 4 Privet Drive, et cetera".
His heart leapt as he realised it might be from Madam Bones, and his hands shook as he opened the envelope.
The letter read:
Dear Mr Potter,
I have taken the liberty of speaking with Albus Dumbledore regarding this letter you wrote to me, and he was somewhat taken aback by the fact that you have taken matters into your own hands regarding the use of magic.
However, he agrees with me that you should have been granted such a waiver the moment You-Know-Who returned, and I hereby include such a waiver.
There are one or two matters I will have to take up in person. Expect me at your door in approximately one hour from receipt of this owl.
With cordial regards,
Madam Amelia Bones
Head, Department of Magical Law Enforcement
The waiver included with the envelope read thus:
Harry James Potter
Of
Number Four Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, United Kingdom
on this date of 2 July 1996
Is hereby granted an unconditional waiver of the normal restrictions as enumerated by the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery. Furthermore, Harry James Potter is permitted to the fullest degree possible under the International Statute of Secrecy, subject only to the legal requirements to which adult wizards and witches must adhere, to defend himself by any means necessary against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and his supporters.
This waiver shall expire in the event of use of Unforgivable Curses or any other violation of wizarding law as it applies to adult wizards. It shall also expire upon the event of Harry James Potter's seventeenth birthday.
(signed) Amelia Bones
Department of Magical Law Enforcement
(signed) Rufus Scrimgeour
Head Auror, Magical Law Enforcement
Since all he knew of adult wizarding law was that one was disallowed to do magic in front of muggles except in self-defence, and that one was banned from using magic on a Muggle or their artefacts, unless you kept the artefact or artefacts for yourself, he didn't see that the lines about the "adult wizarding law" had much applicability, and he'd already gotten done promising himself he would never, ever use an Unforgivable Curse again.
But… yes! Finally he could use magic! Harry promptly dug out his Transfiguration text, and looked up household furniture transfigurations.
Within a few moments, his bed changed from a rickety hand-me-down from when Dudley broke all the springs doing belly flops (upon which Aunt Petunia said, "Oh, my Dudders is growing up to be such a man! He just needs a bigger bed, is all!" – Harry had had to bite down on his cheek to keep from laughing at the time) into a fine, sturdy bed much like the one he had in Gryffindor Tower at Hogwarts.
The warped chair in his room that had always tilted and could never be set right unless he shoved a book under the leg that was too short (this time, it wasn't Dudley's weight that was the issue. Dudley had been bored and taken the chair out to the back lawn and promptly soaked it in water from the hosepipe. Problem was, the chair was made out of wood, and it warped in the summer sun as it dried. Aunt Petunia got her Duddy Dinkydums a padded leather executive chair as a replacement and had barely acknowledged Harry when he asked for the warped chair to replace the cheap plastic one that was in danger of falling apart because the screws were stripped) had been transformed into a quite sturdy, if plain, cushioned chair much like the secretary at the optician's office had used the only time Petunia had ever deigned to get him glasses.
A few expansion charms on the room doubled its size, and Harry made a note to research more advanced protections, which some people liked to call "wards", but were basically protective enchantments one could place on objects or over a defined area. He wanted to add such a one to his room so he could force his relatives to actually ask permission for him to open the door. As it was, he settled for a mild Muggle-repelling Charm, but knew that wasn't really fair and resolved to fix that as soon as possible. Ideally, the ward would be like a selective Locking Charm. If you weren't given permission to open the door, then if you tried opening it, it would stay locked.
The final touch was when he looked at his clothes distastefully, and transfigured them into something far better-fitting. The tatty, faded old blue jeans which were several sizes too big became snug, proper-fitting jeans with no holes at the knees, and could have been mistaken for freshly-purchased ones. His shirt, which never fit properly, became a plain white T-shirt which, for once, did not feel like he was wearing a giant toga.
Harry had been so occupied with gleeful use of magic for his own benefit that he was quite startled when the doorbell rang. Too late, he remembered Madam Bones's letter, and realised with a sinking feeling that Uncle Vernon was going to demonstrate the full spectrum of multifarious shades of red that his face could take on.
Sure enough, as he descended the stairs, Uncle Vernon was currently sporting a wonderful brick-red colour, as he stood by the door, straining politely to say, "Boy, you've got a… guest here to see you."
Madam Bones, stern-faced and wearing a monocle, eyeballed Uncle Vernon as she said, "Thank you for that… cordial… welcome. Mr Potter, I believe we have business to discuss?"
Harry, not really understanding, said, "Uh, yeah. Um…Uncle Vernon, this is Amelia Bones. She's… well, I guess she'd be like the head of the Assizes or Crown Court as well as Chief Inspector at Scotland Yard."
Uncle Vernon didn't waste any time proving he could outdo an eggplant for the impressive shade of purple his face took on, and he said, "Be too much to hope you got into legal trouble again. Just get finished with whatever you need to do already!" He then turned abruptly and stomped into the kitchen.
Harry stiffly nodded, closed the front door, and said, "Madam Bones, please come upstairs. You'll find my bedroom to be fairly comfortable. Thanks for the waiver. I can use magic now!"
The crash in the kitchen was music to Harry's ears as he ushered the stern looking witch up the stairs and into his bedroom. He pictured a comfortable chair, not too fancy, and conjured it up. She lifted her eyebrow at the show of conjuration but then sat down.
Harry closed the door, then pointed his wand at it and said, "Colloportus."
At her searching look, he smirked, sat in his transfigured chair, and said, "My Muggle guardians have never liked the fact that I'm a wizard, or that Dumbledore just left me on their doorstep without so much as a by-your-leave. Ever since they found out I'm not allowed to do magic outside of school they've been insufferable. It's been a bit better this year now that Mad-Eye Moody and Arthur Weasley threatened unspecified penalties if they mistreat me. That crash in the kitchen was probably Uncle Vernon dropping his coffee. Not that I particularly care overmuch. I've just made sure they won't try to come in."
Bones pursed her lips. "I had heard the stories about your guardians," she said. "It is difficult not to when rumours circulate around Hogwarts and you have a niece that attends. Arthur Weasley has also spoken to me once or twice on the subject. Minerva McGonagall also once said she attempted to dissuade Albus from placing you here, but he overrode her at the time. She was not impressed by your relatives at the time, I assure you.
"I still find it hard to believe that you, the Boy-Who-Lived, are living in this relatively tiny room. Yes, I can see where it has been magically expanded, and can deduce the true size. In addition your bed clearly is transfigured, as it is quite a good replica of a Hogwarts bunk, and judging from your relatives' antipathy to you, I doubt they would have provided you with such a thoughtful reminder of school."
Harry snickered. "Right in one, Madam Bones. And by the way, I remember your niece, Susan. We were in the DA together."
Her olive face broke into a smile.
"Yes, the DA… Defence Association, or, more amusingly, Dumbledore's Army. Susan had nothing but good things to say about it, and I dare say her confidence about her OWL in Defence is mostly your work. I had a look at what that Umbridge woman was claiming she was teaching you, and it is clear that even absent all the turmoil at Hogwarts owing to her presence, she would have left you woefully unprepared for that exam. As it is I am impressed any teaching got done at all that year."
She continued briskly. "Mr Potter, I am here for two – or perhaps three – distinct reasons. The first I have already covered; I wanted to congratulate you on an excellent piece of work with the DA, and considering you want to be an Auror, you show a good aptitude for that line of work.
"The second is that I, personally, find it disgraceful that Albus Dumbledore left you here with clearly unsympathetic guardians and a Squib that seems to have done nothing but goldbricking for heaven knows how long. If you hadn't been attacked by Dementors, I daresay you'd still think she was just a batty old woman. She had any number of chances to investigate and report that you were being unfairly treated. I wonder how much he pays her to waste her time with those cats. Anyway, he has encouraged me to be as truthful and forthcoming with you as I possibly can, although to what end I don't fully understand."
Harry hurriedly replied, "We had a… well, an argument after that night at the Department of Mysteries, about some things he'd been keeping from me."
Bones nodded and said, "Hm. I see. Third – I must put up a silencing charm first—"
She waved her wand, muttering an incantation.
"Good. We cannot now be overheard. Mr Potter, Kingsley Shacklebolt came to see me after the Department of Mysteries battle wherein you and five other students managed to destroy half the place while, thankfully, assisting in the capture of several Death Eaters. He spoke to me in extreme confidence regarding some spells that were cast."
Harry's heart dropped into his stomach as his breath hitched.
"Mr Potter, a Cruciatus Curse was cast that was attributable to your magical signature, and was detected as such by a spell sensor network that is active throughout the Department of Mysteries. It was the weakest of all Cruciatus curses so cast, incidentally, bordering on unsuccessful use. Auror Shacklebolt has told me, quite unofficially, that he wiped it from the records that night. I am here to inquire as to the exact circumstances surrounding your use of that curse."
Harry looked at the floor, and mumbled, "I couldn't even do it, not even when I was so mad at her…"
"Speak up, Mr Potter."
Shakily, he took a breath and said steadily, "It was after Bellatrix Lestrange cast a spell that sent Sirius Black through the veil in that chamber – he's my godfather, see, and he was innocent of that crime; Peter Pettigrew faked his own death – and I was so distraught and angry I remember chasing after her, and… well, I cast the curse at her. It didn't even really work."
He took another breath, and fearfully looked Bones in the eye. "Are – are you going to send me to Azkaban?"
Bones huffed a sigh. "I think not. First, the law is clear. The curse must be successful to be a chargeable offence punishable by the lifetime sentence in Azkaban. You attempted the curse; that is not the same thing. Second, in a time of war – and we are in one – there are very few rules. The enemy is out to get you, and vice versa.
"My decision is to not charge you with the offence, and indeed to order you to forget that you have had this discussion with me. It would be a very unpopular move to charge you with use of the curse considering who it was cast against – or attempted on, I should say. Additionally, on practical grounds, it would be quite wrong to subject an underage wizard to such a life-altering punishment particularly when you show little sign of desiring to practice Dark Arts."
Harry heaved a shaky sigh of relief and said, "Thank you, Madam Bones. I admit this was weighing on my head a bit earlier today. I've been reading about the dangers of Dark Arts and I was thinking how it would be too easy to want to use the curse and end up being as barmy as Bellatrix Lestrange."
"Well, Mr Potter, you can be considered fortunate that Auror Shacklebolt was on the scene. He has told me that he has not even reported this matter to Headmaster Dumbledore, as he suspects that if Severus Snape was to somehow find out about this – and I don't fully trust Albus with respect to Severus – he could use that information against you in some way."
Harry spoke up with sudden bitterness. "Oh. Snape. That's a laugh. I bet he'd say, 'Headmaster, you are clearly delusional. The Golden Boy wouldn't be able to cast a Cruciatus even if he had an instruction manual with pictures!'"
His imitation of Snape's sneer and condescending tone forced a laugh out of Bones, and she marvelled that such a young man was possessed of wit, politeness and intelligence. He was clearly aware of what he needed to do in order to make himself ready to take up the mantle of "The Chosen One" (as the Daily Prophet had started calling him) and he was cognisant of the danger of going Dark.
"Well, Mr Potter, I think I have taken up enough of your time today. Incidentally, now that you can do magic I would suggest you practice your Transfiguration. You seem to have a bit of an aptitude for that."
Harry smiled and said, "Thanks. This stuff has to last me for the whole summer, and I'd rather not re-transfigure it if I don't have to. I promise I won't abuse the waiver with regard to my Muggle guardians. They've been served notice that I can defend myself, and that should be enough."
"If you should have any trouble with them in the future, I say the hell with Albus. You send me an owl straightaway. Aurors have a number of safe houses scattered throughout Great Britain, and I know of at least one that has a Fidelius on it. I am the Secret Keeper."
Harry mulled that over as he said, "Thanks again. I appreciate what you've done for me as well as your compliments. But really, everybody in the DA did a pretty good job; they all wanted to learn real Defence, just like I did."
The witch cancelled the silencing charm as she said, "Well, Mr Potter, I shall take my leave of you now. Would you kindly escort me to the door?"
His smile was one that would break hearts at Hogwarts, as he said, "Of course. Finite." His wand was pointed at the door as he cancelled the Locking Charm whilst making certain that the Muggle-repelling Charm was still active.
It was not long after Madam Bones left that Harry found Aunt Petunia to be looking at him warily. Her voice quavering a bit, she said, "Vernon told me you can do… that now."
He smirked. "Why yes, Aunt. I got a waiver from the Ministry of Magic." He swished his wand, doing nothing more threatening than sending a small shower of sparks from the wand, but she flinched noticeably, and turned back to the dishes she was placing in the dishwasher.
Chortling, he went back up to his room, and began his Occlumency exercises. He hoped his shields would be good enough to convince Snape to back off if he ever tried Legilimency.
Author Notes:
As regards the DoM - the Ministry may be incompetent but I don't think the research and development people (which seems to be what the DoM is part of) are that stupid, and if they wanted to nail someone idiotic enough to use a spell where they shouldn't, they'd have a way to do it. (Can you imagine accidentally smashing the case that held brains? Yeah, they'd want to nail you right quick. :P ) Enter the passive spell-sensor network. I further assume that not the entire Ministry of Magic has them in order to cut down on false alarms, and also because Fudge doesn't think it's that important to protect everybody in the Ministry.
Deathly Hallows canon directly contradicts some of Harry's motives here; I wasn't really pleased with how JKR wrote the scene where Harry successfully employs the Cruciatus Curse. Although a careful reading of the book shows that JKR employs the element of 'an eye for an eye' in that a Death Eater gets the Imperius Curse put on him, and one of the Carrows is Cruciated just as was done to students, the time and place for Harry to use it was not, IMO, written with enough of a eye to literary or dramatic impact.
That having been said this chapter was originally conceived and written at a time when I saw several fics employing very similar-seeming cliche type logic regarding the Unforgivables, such as the "Imperius-can-be-used-to-save-people" or "mercy-killing!Avada Kedavra" type. I don't really like that logic. As Dumbledore notes, again using DH canon, as well as what was in HBP, the use of certain curses is a stain on one's soul, and in the canonverse, since souls exist and are markers/anchors for one's physical essence, purposely harming it is a pretty serious thing.
Thanks go to Maddevillechilde for the beta work on the original version :)