Title: All That Glitters
Disclaimer: I don't own anything
Author's note: Alright, I'm going to give a warning – there will be the death of a character in this chapter. Not a major character, but an important one. Did I mention this wasn't going to be the happiest of stories?
Summary: As Kingsley's trial comes to a close, tragedy strikes, and chaos reigns once more.
Not all that is gold does glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost.
Chapter Twenty-Eight: World on Fire
I watch the heavens, but I find no calling
Something I can do to change what's coming
Stay close to me while the sky is falling
Don't want to be left alone, don't want to be alone.
-Sarah McLachlan, "World on Fire"
The atrium of the Ministry was nearly empty. All employees had fought their way to the courtroom, or lingered in the hallway outside, listening through the open door to the proceedings. Only a few were left behind, grumbling over their lot in life as they were forced to forgo the spectacle in order to do their jobs.
Percy stood in the corner of the atrium, near the fireplaces that lined the walls, serving as access points for anyone connected to the Floo Network. He couldn't help the sinking sensation in his stomach, the knowledge that things were happening to affect him and his family, and it was all now out of his control.
He had heard whispers, rumors that Lucius Malfoy had been arrested and taken to Azkaban, that Narcissa Malfoy was now considered a heroine, worthy of praise. It was strange, he reflected, how easily she could manipulate others, how she could climb up the social ladder even when everyone else predicted that her reputation would remain forever varnished.
He wondered what this maneuver had cost her. He wondered if she cared at all for her husband, the man she had condemned to a life of misery. He did not think highly of the Malfoys, but he had always thought that Narcissa loved her family. Now, he was no longer sure.
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of movement, and turned to watch as two wizards emerged from the hallway leading to the elevators, talking heatedly. It was Nott and Zabini, and they were obviously upset about something. Nott was gesturing with his hands, and Zabini looked furious.
Percy had no doubt that Mrs. Malfoy's testimony, and her husband's subsequent arrest, did not sit well with either of the influential Slytherins. He did not know either of them well, although they had both been Ron's year at Hogwarts. But he knew still had money, and some pull within the Ministry. He wondered vaguely if they would cause any trouble.
"Perce?"
He turned away from Nott and Zabini at the sound of Penny's voice, and smiled. "Hey."
The Healer leaned came to his side, leaning against him. "I got your owl, but I don't understand why you are here. I thought we were meeting at your flat."
"I just…" Percy sighed and shook his head, wishing he could explain. But he couldn't, not when he himself didn't understand his desire to be here. "The trial…"
"I know," Penny said, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek, "but we've already determined that you can't do anything to help. Not right now, anyway. You've already done enough, you've bought the others some time to…"
"To what?" Percy asked pointedly. "What do they think they can do? Hannigan will end the trial soon, and we are no closer to stopping this… this… travesty." He let out a breath, frustrated and uneasy, and shook his head again. "I don't like this feeling, Pen. It's like we're rushing towards the end of something… and it is going to be big… and there is nothing I can do to stop it, no way I can prepare for the inevitable."
"The end is not inevitable," Penny argued gently. "Just wait, Percy."
"For what?"
Penny didn't have an answer to that, and Percy sighed and gave her a tired smile. They were silent for a moment, each contemplating the unknown future that lay ahead, a future that would be determined by this trial, by the complete miscarriage of justice that was happening below their very feet.
"What are you two doing here?" a cool voice demanded, and Percy glanced up sharply to see Zabini now standing before him, arms folded across his chest. "Why aren't you down watching the trial? It's quite the show, isnt' it?"
Penny answered quickly, "What are you doing here, Zabini?"
The Slytherin narrowed his eyes and said, "I'll tell you what I'm not doing, Clearwater. I'm not standing about, gloating, as my precious Ministry destroys the lives of innocent people." With a sneer, he added, "But I suppose you're happy about all this? After all, your Ministry has caught the vilest of traitors, hasn't it?"
"Our Ministry," Percy corrected softly, wearily.
"Hardly," Zabini spat. "Not with that fool Abbott running the show. Just watch, Weasley. You might think you've won, but you'll regret this soon enough. I promise you that."
"The trail isn't over yet," Percy said off-handedly. "I wouldn't be too quick to place bets on how it will end."
Zabini gave a snort of disgust at Percy's words and said, "It's practically over. Or haven't you heard?"
A feeling of dread twisted painfully in Percy's stomach, and he shared a frantic glance with Penny as he asked, "Heard what, Zabini?"
"Counsel for the defense declined to present a case," Zabini answered with icy derision.
"What?" Percy gasped, his heart momentarily freezing in his chest. If the counsel for the defense did not present a defense, the trial would immediately go to a vote. The Wizengamot could be deciding Kingsley's fate even as he stood here, arguing with the haughty Slytherin.
"She said she had already made her case during her cross-examinations," Zabini drawled, clearly enjoying the looks of absolute horror on the faces of Percy and Penny. "She didn't want to waste the Wizengamot's time with more pointless witnesses. Shacklebolt protested, not that it did any good. The Wizengamot didn't care."
"Are they voting now?" Penny breathed.
Zabini shrugged. "If not now, then they will be soon enough. What's the matter? Did you think your Ministry had more scruples than this? Well, I am sorry to burst your bubble, but they are nowhere near as perfect as you think. Still, I suppose you don't care, do you? By the end of the hour, Lucius will be in Azkaban for the rest of his life, and Shacklebolt will most likely lose his soul. Snape, too, though no one cares about that, do they?"
Then he shook his head and stepped around Percy, catching up with Nott who was waiting near one of the fire places, and the two Floo'ed away.
Percy watched the two leave, his expression grim. "I might disagree with him about everthing else," he muttered under his breath, "but this…"
"Can she do that?" Penny asked, aghast. "Just… not present a case? Have no defense?"
Percy shrugged. "If it serves Hannigan's cause, she can probably do whatever she likes. He's in charge of it all now, and it seems no one can stop him.
And then, quite suddenly, the atrium was filled with the resonating cracks of several people Apparating. Percy and Penny both turned towards the sound in alarm and confusion. The two others who were lingering in the room, both witches, drew their wands in simultaneous movements, as though afraid they were under attack.
And Harry, Hermione, and Ron appeared, accompanied by Draco Malfoy and the unconscious body of someone Percy could not see clearly.
For a moment, there was a complete silence.
Then both witches crumpled to the ground, unconscious, followed quickly by Ron. All three of them had been caught completely unawares, and as Hermione spun to face the direction of the attack, another burst caught her off-guard as well, and she, too, slid to the ground, pain etched into her features, her wand falling from her hand.
Yaxley stepped out of the shadows, his wand outstretched, his eyes glittering wildly.
"Think you're clever, don't you, Potter?" he asked, his words laced with bitterness. "Think you've somehow won? You fool…" His gaze flicked sideways to Malfoy and he added, "I should have known you'd turn out to be every bit as much a traitor as your mother."
Malfoy quickly knelt at Hermione's side, checking for a pulse, even as he spat, "You're the traitor, Yaxley! Willing to destroy my family just to get what you want." Then, to Harry, who was himself kneeling beside Ron, the blonde wizard said, "She's alive. I feel a heartbeat."
"He is, too," Harry answered, and Percy felt himself flood with relief.
He'd already lost one brother, the idea of losing another…
By this point, Malfoy, Harry, Percy, and Penelope had all drawn their wands. Yaxley was outnumbered, but the atrium remained empty of anyone else, and he did not look too worried.
"Hmm… pity," Yaxley muttered, giving Hermione a cruel look. "I should have killed the Mudblood. Oh well… next time."
"Don't call her that!" Harry snarled.
"Why not? It's what she is, isn't it?" Yaxley sneered. "Mudbloods and blood traitors. Better luck picking your friends next time, Potter. If there even is a next time."
And he flicked his wrist, a jet of red light scorching the air and flying directly at the Boy Who Lived. Harry conjured a shield just in time, even as Penny and Percy both sent stunners towards Yaxley. Yaxley dodged them and pointed his wand at the unconscious man, who Percy now saw was Runcorn. Another jet of light woke the Dark wizard.
Runcorn clambered to his feet, looking every bit as confused as Percy felt. But the older wizard seemed to have a better grasp on the situation, and he instantly dove forward, seizing Hermione's wand from the floor by her limp form and spinning to confront the others.
Percy shared a glance with Penny. "Get help!" he hissed frantically. He had no idea what was happening or why his brother, Hermione, Harry, and Malfoy – Malfoy, of all people – had shown up in the middle of the atrium with an unconscious Runcorn. But it didn't matter, none of it mattered. The only thing that seemed important was that his family was in danger again, and he had to stop it. He couldn't let anything happen to Ron.
Penny nodded and hurried towards the hallway leading to the elevators, but Runcorn shot a curse at her, and she was forced to turn and fight back. Percy, torn between helping her and rushing to his brother's side.
Penny, however, seemed to be the only one thinking clearly at the moment, and quickly conjured a Patronus. The silver creature bounded out of sight, floating through the hallways towards its intended target in the courtroom far below. It would only be a matter of time before help arrived.
"Do you really think you can win?" Malfoy asked, facing Yaxley. "You're outnumbered, or haven't you noticed that?"
"It won't do you any good," Yaxley sneered. "I imagine the Aurors will be coming for you soon."
"I wouldn't count on that," Percy interrupted, attacking Yaxley even as me moved closer to Penny. His eyes darted in between Runcorn and Yaxley, and Penny came to his side, uniting with him against the two enemies. "I think Hannigan has made it pretty clear that nothing will happen to Narcissa or Draco Malfoy."
Both Yaxley and Runcorn froze, clearly surprised and disturbed by that revelation. "What do you mean?" Yaxley demanded sharply, turning away from Harry and Malfoy to face Percy.
Percy hesitated, not sure how to answer. Why did Yaxley and Runcorn look so furious, so betrayed?
Yaxley lunged forward, shooting curses from his wand. "Answer me!"
Penny conjured a shield around her boyfriend, protecting them both from the attack. Harry reacted quickly as well, taking advantage of Yaxley's inattention and firing a stunning spell at him. Yaxley barely ducked in time, and lost his footing, stumbling and falling to the floor. In a rage, Yaxley sent another curse towards Harry, a burst of heat crackling through the air and sending Harry flying backwards.
The Boy Who Lived slammed into the floor, momentarily stunned.
Yaxley turned back to Percy. "Answer me," he ordered once more, his words harsh and demanding. "What did Hannigan do?"
Percy retorted fiercely, "He framed an innocent man. But you already knew that, didn't you?"
"What did he do about the Malfoys? Tell me!"
"He made Narcissa Malfoy a heroine," Percy replied, his words hard and cold, filled with venom. "Lucius Malfoy will be in prison for the rest of his life, thanks to his wife's testimony against him, but Mrs. Malfoy and her son…" his eyes moved to Draco Malfoy for a moment, then snapped back to Yaxley, "they're heroes. Trust me, nothing will happen to them."
"What?" Runcorn snarled, eyes filled with wrath.
It was Malfoy's voice, however, soft and filled with unmistakable horror, that caught Percy's attention. "My mother did what?"
Percy felt a sudden wave of sympathy for the other boy, but squashed it immediately. He didn't care about Malfoy, couldn't care about him. Not right now. Not with Runcorn and Yaxley standing before him, and Ron unconscious on the floor.
Harry was back on his feet, walking forward with a determined glare. And the fight began again, faster and more furious than before. Runcorn had turned his full attention to Percy, as though blaming Percy himself for being the bearer of bad news. Penny, standing by her boyfriend's side, did her best to protect them against the onslaught of Dark spells, even as Percy lashed back with his own magic.
He chanced a glance at Harry, and saw him kneeling next to Ron, muttering some spells as Malfoy stood over them, protecting them, and Hermione, from Yaxley's attack.
And ever so slowly, Ron opened his eyes and groaned, groping immediately for his wand as he struggled to sit up. He looked around, wide eyes taking in his surroundings, and Harry moved past him towards Hermione.
And then Runcorn's spell caught Percy in the shoulder and he tore his gaze away from Harry and Ron, his expression twisting as pain flooded through his arm. He dropped his wand, stumbling to his knees, falling away from Penny as the hot, sticky blood spread out along the sleeves of his robes.
"Percy!" Penny cried, turning towards him.
Face flushed with triumph, Runcorn turned towards Penny, his wand pointed directly at her, a curse forming on the tip of his tongue.
"Avada Kedavra!"
Percy looked up, a scream of terror dying on his lips, as time seemed to slow down. And there was nothing he could do but watch in helpless horror as the jet of green light curved through the air and slammed into Penny's chest, knocking her backwards. She toppled over, crumpling to the ground, her eyes open, staring unseeingly at the ceiling above.
And Percy's world shattered into a million broken pieces.
The Patronus burst into the courtroom, falling through the ceiling and landing directly before the Wizengamot. "We're under attack in the atrium. We need help," came the frantic voice that Arthur Weasley recognized as belonging to Penelope Clearwater.
And that was all it took for the rest of the room to erupt into panicked pandemonium.
For Arthur, however, the panic was a very different sort. It was focused on one thought and one thought only – that if Penelope was there, Percy was likely to be in the atrium as well. And that glimmer of an idea was all it took for the redheaded wizard to shove his way roughly through the crowd and sprint into the packed corridor, rushing towards the staircases that would take him to the atrium.
He paid not attention to the chaos behind him, only dimly aware of shouting voices, the cries of fear, the accusations thrown back and forth between the witches and wizards gathered.
By the time he reached the atrium, his heart was pounding frantically, pumping fear and dread through his veins. He burst through the door, his eyes quickly scanning the room, and he found himself coming to a sudden stop as he noticed that Ron was there as well, looking dazed and bewildered, and injured.
And then Arthur looked past Ron, and the breath left his body.
Percy was kneeling on the floor, tears slipping from his eyes, his entire body shaking with silent sobs as he cradled Penny's dead body.
Aurors came spilling out of the fireplaces, flashes of green flames the only warning before they appeared. Once again, Arthur saw little of it, and cared about what was happening even less. All he could do was stare in horror at the tableau stretched out before him, the spit-second of a battle frozen in time.
Harry was kneeling next to Hermione, his eyes fixed on Percy even though his wand still hovered over the unconscious witch. Ron and Malfoy both stood above them, Ron's gaze pinned on Percy while Malfoy stared at Runcorn. And Yaxley, still and silent as well, as though not quite sure what had happened.
And then there was Percy, blood dripping from the sleeve of his robes, head bowed over Penny…
Runcorn twisted on the spot, shooting a few spells in rapid succession at the Aurors. It was that action that broken the stillness, and Yaxley, too, began to fight once more. They were far outnumbered, unable to fight the masses of Aurors, and a well-placed stunning spell sent Runcorn to the floor.
Yaxley, however, was able to pull away from the battle long enough to rush towards the Golden Trio and Malfoy. Arthur turned, his wand out, watching as Malfoy tried to confront the Dark wizard. But the young blonde was not fast enough, and within moments, Yaxley had disarmed him and seized the boy's arm.
And then Yaxley spun around and was gone, taking Malfoy with him.
It was a disaster.
Or, Hannigan decided thoughtfully, it could become a disaster. But it wasn't one yet. He was still in control of the trial, and he still had the necessary influence to make this turn out the way he wanted. He just needed to take the right steps, to ensure that he succeeded in the end.
Everything had started out so well. It had been hard to convince Jonathon Abbott to go along with his proposed plan, hard to manipulate the wizard into agreeing to lie on the stand. But Abbott was still enough of a fool that he did not see what was right in front of him, could never see the truth because of his own hatred, his own prejudice. And when Hannigan had told him that lying – absolving Narcissa and Draco of their sins – was the only way to ensure that Lucius Malfoy would spend the rest of his life going mad in Azkaban…
Abbott had eventually agreed. And, after all, it would help convict Shacklebolt as well.
But the Wizengamot had never had the chance to vote. Not that it mattered now, given all that had happened. They could vote tomorrow, and perhaps he would be able to use that vote to remove more than just one enemy.
He looked at the reporter who sat across from him, a mousy, nondescript-looking man with sharp eyes and a quill held tightly in one hand.
"Ms. Clearwater was a promising witch, a fine Healer," he said slowly, choosing his words carefully. "Her death, a death that occurred in the very entrance to the Ministry, is a blow to all of us. She will be greatly missed."
He paused, and for a moment all that could be heard was the scratch of the quill against the parchment as the reporter for the Daily Prophet took rapid notes.
Then Hannigan continued, "The pain of her death is only compounded by the kidnapping of young Draco Malfoy, a despicable action to occur so soon after Mrs. Malfoy testified against her husband and Shacklebolt."
"Do you believe that the kidnapping is related to the testimony?"
"I do," Hannigan answered gravely. "Runcorn and Yaxley were both known associates of Lucius Malfoy's before Malfoy supposedly reformed. It is obvious that they have come back, seeking revenge against Narcissa and Draco. In fact, I would not be surprised if they were in league with Malfoy… and Shacklebolt."
The reporter continued scribbling furiously, and Hannigan lapsed into silence for a moment, thinking. He had to get Draco back, and quickly, or else Narcissa would reveal what she knew about him, what her husband had told her about the event all those years ago… It meant making a move against Runcorn and Yaxley, breaking his ties with the two. It was sooner than he had originally intended, and he would need to be careful, need to make sure that they could not do him any harm.
But he was smart, he was resourceful. He knew how to adapt. He would succeed.
"And the trial of Shacklebolt?" the reporter asked.
"The Wizangamot will vote tomorrow," Hannigan answered with a grim smile. "If evidence comes to light that Shacklebolt was in league with Runcorn and Yaxley," here he paused and thought to himself that he would need to find a way to manufacture such evidence, "then we will add that to his list of accused crimes. I will not let him escape justice."
"And Draco Malfoy?"
"Our finest Aurors are looking for him even as we speak," Hannigan assured the reporter. "And I am still optimistic. We must cling to hope, for it is all we have in these dark times. But we have fought this war before, and we have emerged triumphant. I will not let anyone take that from us, not again. Not without fighting back."
Within an hour, he knew, his words would be printed in the Daily Prophet and circulated through the majority of homes in wizarding Britain. Within the hour, he would have enough popularity and enough prestige to secure his place as Minister of Magic… and to get rid of anyone who stood in his way.
The final issue was Harry Potter, and he still had no idea how to best deal with the boy. He did not want any harm to come to him, but the Boy Who Lived was still a threat. He knew far too much, and that threat needed to be eliminated.
Soon.
The Burrow was silent.
Percy had locked himself in his old room and refused to speak to anyone, and no amount of cajoling on the part of Mrs. Weasley could convince him to open the door. So she stood on the stairs outside his room, silently waiting for the moment when her grieving son would open the door and look for comfort. And she swore to herself she would wait for as long as necessary, just to make sure that she was there when he needed her.
Bill and Charlie sat on the sofa in the living room, and Fleur paced in silence across the worn floor, holding her young daughter in her arms. Mr. Weasley was absent, having taken both Ron and Hermione to St. Mungo's to be treated for their various injuries. George had gone with them, apparently deciding he could be more helpful at the hospital than in the tense and silent Burrow.
Percy had refused the hospital. His wounds could be cleaned easily enough by the Muggle way, and bandaged with torn strips of cloth. They were shallow cuts, and he was in no danger of any permanent damage. But Ginny had insisted on inspecting them before leaving Percy to his solitary grief.
Ginny sat on the steps outside the Burrow, with Harry at her side. They, too, were waiting. Waiting for Percy to emerge, waiting for Ron and Hermione to recover. Waiting for this all to be over.
For Harry, though, there were other thoughts on his mind. Thoughts that revolved around Snape, the man whom he had detested for years. From the very first moment he had arrived at Hogwarts, it seemed as though the animosity between himself and the potions Professor was inevitable. There was a bitterness to Snape, a darkness that Harry never really understood.
Never bothered to understand.
He wondered, vaguely, what it was like to spy on Voldemort. What it was like to venture back into that inner circle, over and over and over, to stand back and watch others die because he had to maintain his cover, he could not afford to be suspected…
Harry had never been good at letting those he cared about get hurt. What Hermione had called his hero-complex, what had forced him to save Ginny during his second year, to go to the Department of Mysteries during his fifth… He could not even begin to comprehend what he would have done if he had been forced to watch someone die, unable to intervene to help.
Forced to stand there and laugh cruelly as others screamed in tortured agony…
The darkness in Snape… he understood some of it now. Not all of it, but enough. Enough…
He had seen enough memories to know that Snape had been bullied at Hogwarts… bullied by Harry's own father…
And he had lost Lily's friendship as well, a blow that must have hurt terribly given Snape's own confession that he loved her…
And then all that he had done as a Death Eater, all the lives he had taken and those he had been unable to save…
It didn't justify everything, Harry knew. He, too, had been bullied as a child, bullied for ten straight years by the people who were supposed to be taking care of him. He'd been pushed and knocked around by Dudley, ignored and emotionally abused by his aunt and uncle, forced to live underneath the stairs, to endure ridicule and disgust that he did not understand, that he had never really been able to fathom.
And he had not become a Death Eater.
Snape had made the wrong choice at least once.
More than once, in fact, and now Harry was an orphan, a child who had never had a chance to know his parents.
So no, not everything was justified, not everything was completely forgiven…
But…
Snape was a good man.
When he finally allowed himself to think that thought, to accept what he had known subconsciously from the moment Malfoy had first shown him those memories… It was then that he accepted the truth. People made mistakes, something he knew all too well. And after those mistakes were made, they either admitted to their mistakes and tried to make amends, or pretended that they had been in the right, that their actions had not been wrong.
He had made mistakes in the past. And he had done what he could to right the wrongs, to move forward, to make things better.
And when people tried to change…
They deserved that second chance. They deserved a helping hand. They deserved not to have the world turn its back on them.
He looked at Ginny. She was staring at him, trying to read his expression, trying to understand the thoughts that flickered through the depths of his eyes. He smiled at her, though he knew it probably appeared strained.
"Ginny…"
She gave a little sigh. "You're going to go do something ridiculously noble, aren't you?"
When people tried to change…
He nodded grimly. "I have to go after Malfoy."