"Dora, please…" Moony begged from the other side of the Evening Prophet as Tonks told Padfoot about how Moony had proposed.
"-been nervous the night before, but then you showed up, Sirius, and then the next day he barely talked to me, and I thought he was just worried, but then-" Harry wasn't particularly interested in the story, and rather wished Ron or Draco were there with him so they could pull faces at each other about the whole thing. He was happy for Moony and Tonks, of course, but he didn't need to hear ever sappy detail, like Padfoot seemed to want to.
"-were sitting down to one dinner and he started saying how much I mean to him, and how happy he's been this year, and how big this year's been for both of us, and all sorts of other nice things about me and how he doesn't deserve me, so of course, given our history, I figured he was trying to break up with me…" Padfoot laughed, while Moony shrank down behind the paper. "So of course I've told him I don't want to hear it, and to stop talking because I want to finish my dinner in peace-"
"And let me guess; Moony's got that brooding, unsurprised look because he can never be loved," Padfoot said, grinning. Moony pulled a face at him over the top of the paper, and then Padfoot scowled, presumably because Moony'd kicked him or something under the table. Harry grinned.
"Something like that," Tonks laughed. "And I felt a bit guilty, so then I said I'd had a long day, and wasn't really in the mood to be broken up with tonight, and he sort of blinked at me and then laughed and said quite the opposite, and then- well-" She lifted her hand and waggled her finger at Padfoot across the table.
"It's not silver, is it?" Padfoot asked, looking at the ring with interest. Moony emerged from behind the paper to give him a flat look. "White gold?" Moony bobbed his head. "And the stone? Not an opal, but sort of similar, isn't it?" He turned Tonks' hand over, curious. She – looking like she was about to burst from trying not to laugh – caught Moony's eye.
"Not an opal," she agreed. Harry thought Padfoot might have let the matter drop, had she not sounded that way, and, had Moony not seemed so determined to hide again.
"Should have left you at home," Moony muttered, and Tonk poked her tongue out at the paper.
"Spit it out," Padfoot said, amused. Expectant silence hung in the kitchen, broken only by Tonks' sniggers; Moony was still holding her hand, though, so he couldn't have been too annoyed, even if he kept scowling at her. Finally, he mumbled something so incoherently that neither Harry or Padfoot understood him. "Missed that, sorry."
"I said it's a moonstone," Moony mumbled. Padfoot stared at him for a long moment and then burst out laughing. Harry laughed too, and for a moment, safe in the kitchen at Grimmauld with his family, Riddle, the basilisk and the diary all seemed like distant memories.
Then, Padfoot frowned and pulled out his Sidekick. He murmured the opening phrase, and set it on the table.
"This is Black," he said, and Harry could tell from the way he'd said it, that he hadn't been expecting to be contacted. Moony glanced at Tonks, then at Harry.
"Scrimgeour," Scrimgeour's voice said tersely, and the amusement on Padfoot's face from before had well and truly vanished. "Are you still at St Mungo's?"
"At home," Padfoot said. "What's- Did Crouch give us a lead?"
"Peter Pettigrew's out of Azkaban," Scrimgeour's voice said. Harry froze, and met Tonks' eye, not sure exactly what to feel; chances were, Peter would keep away from them – keep away from everyone, because the world knew he was guilty – but Peter was a murderer, Peter had framed Padfoot, and would have killed Moony and Harry if Padfoot hadn't got to him first. Then, Tonks put a hand on Moony's arm and rubbed gently; his expression had shut down completely, but Harry could smell how upset he was by the news. Padfoot just looked stunned. Scrimgeour talked on, oblivious. "The guards found his cell empty when they did the dinner rounds tonight, and he hasn't been located on the island."
"How?" Padfoot managed. "His cell was warded against him transforming, and he hasn't got a wand-"
"It seems likely he had help," Scrimgeour said. "There are a few options, and we'll call in the day's visitor list for questioning tomorrow, but my money's on Crouch."
"He got out of Ministry custody?" Padfoot asked.
"No," Scrimgeour said. "But somehow he was on a boat to Azkaban at the same time as he was admitted to a supervised ward at St Mungo's." Padfoot leaned back on the bench and let out a gusty breath. Harry knew how he felt. "How soon can you get here?" Scrimgeour continued. "With Hemsley-" There was an uncomfortable pause, and then Scrimgeour cleared his throat. "And McKinnon's not in any fit shape-"
"No, she isn't. I can be there in ten minutes," Padfoot said, getting to his feet. He grimaced, as if to apologise, to Harry, Moony and Tonks, but Moony just waved a hand at him and Harry nodded. Padfoot snatched up the Sidekick, gave Harry's shoulder a squeeze, and then was on the stairs, taking them two at a time. A few seconds later, the front door slammed.
The week that followed was a long one. Scrimgeour hadn't recruited him to help track Peter, feeling that Sirius might be too emotionally involved, and had instead set him to guarding Crouch and Crouch's house elf, who'd somehow escaped mention in all of the reports Sirius had had so far. Crouch was in bad shape, and when Wellington and Yaxley showed up to relieve him and Finch at five the next morning, Crouch still hadn't woken, and his house elf hadn't been of any help either; she'd just sat at his bedside sobbing all night.
Tired, Sirius had paid a very brief visit to Marlene – who was looking a bit better than the night before – and then Apparated home to find Remus – who hadn't slept – waiting with a pot of tea in the kitchen. It had been a subdued breakfast to say the least; with no progress made on either the Peter front or the Crouch front, Sirius didn't have any information to share to make him feel any better, nor Harry when he woke and came to join them.
Harry'd been supposed to go to visit the Weasleys, but with Peter out and in the company of Merlin-knew-who, and both of them Merlin-knew-where, Sirius wasn't ready to let Harry out of the Fidelius Charm. He didn't think Peter would come after Harry, but he was forced to concede that he really didn't know Peter as well as he'd once thought, and that he also had no idea what Peter would be like away from the Dementors' influence. That, and Peter had a thing for killing Potters. Harry hadn't been at all impressed with that, and might have argued except Remus had stepped in and vetoed the idea.
Sirius suspected that was why Harry hadn't been receptive to the idea of going to France for the week, until things settled. In fact, he'd reminded them all, well and truly that he was Lily's son – Sirius hadn't been shouted at like that for quite some time – and also that he was young but not entirely helpless. He had - as he quite pointedly reminded them – managed to do all right against a basilisk and a bit of Voldemort less than a day before. If he could have his time again, Sirius would not have then told his godson that that was exactly why they were trying to get him to a safe place until they knew more, so that he could stay well and truly out of it; Harry had said his goodbyes to Remus and Dora, and shut himself in his room without another word.
FOLLY OF THE FATHER
By Benedict Heron
Disgraced Head of the Department of International Coorperation Bartemius Crouch Snr was today convicted to twenty five years in Azkaban, for the use of an Unforgivable curse, breaking a known criminal out of Azkaban prison, and also harbouring said criminal in his own home.
Crouch's son Barty Crouch Jnr – who was sentenced to life in Azkaban in 1981 for his crimes during the war with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and was until recently, believed dead - is now on the run from Aurors, and is believed to have aided Peter Pettigrew in his escape from Azkaban earlier in the week. Both men are considered dangerous, and should not be approached by members of the public.
Crouch will be succeeded by Damaris Sprottle, who was unavailable for comment on her appointment, however-
Mum folded her paper shut as Dad switched off the car's engine, and Ginny sighed and reached for her bag. Outside, people were rushing about in the rain to get into the station, and Ginny found she had little interest in joining them. Hogwarts was going to be- different for her now. How could she walk the halls, knowing what she'd danger she'd put everyone in? How could she look her teachers in the eye? Even if they hadn't worked out her involvement from her and Ron's appearance in the Entrance Hall during the evacuation, even if they were all still oblivious, she'd still know.
And then there were the ones that did know; Harry'd said in his letter to Ron that he wasn't allowed to visit, but Ginny thought, privately, it was because he knew that she would be there and didn't want to see her. And when Percy and Colin and Draco and Hermione woke up, how was she supposed to talk to any of them without remembering that she'd almost killed them, and – in Colin's case – that she'd taken away months of their lives that they'd never get back?
"Now, Ginny dear, are you sure this is a good idea?" Mum asked.
Ginny nodded and slid across the seat, then past Mum, who was holding the door open for her. No matter how much she was dreading her return to school, it couldn't be worse than the week she'd had, stuck at home with everyone treating her like she was made of glass, or, alternately, like nothing at all had happened. The twins had settled for the latter, joking around, and forcing her to come for walks, or to watch them degnome the garden. Ron had kept his distance, by not forcing her to talk or spend time with him, but had never been more than a room away from her, except for overnight. Mum and Dad had sat her down on the first night and asked her questions, like, she hadn't meant to hurt those people, had she? And had Tom touched her when he got his body back? And why hadn't she known better than to listen to words written on a page?
She'd told them no, no and she was sorry; she hadn't told them that she and Tom hadn't just written, that she'd visited him in the diary, and that he'd visited her, and eventually, that he'd been part of her, that he'd been in her head. She'd told them that she was all right, that she could hardly remember the things she'd done under his influence, but that was a lie; she remembered his voice, his smile, his common room, remembered the feeling of helplessness and betrayal when he'd completely taken her over.
And she remembered other things too; not much, and not always when she expected to, but she remembered things that Tom must have remembered from before he put himself in the diary. Sometimes, in her dreams this past week, Ginny had been Tom, sitting through a Charms lesson, or sitting with other Slytherin boys in the common room talking about classes, or teachers or students, or she'd been Tom, patrolling the halls of an older Hogwarts in the middle of the night on Prefect rounds.
"Now, Ginny, are you sure you're all right?" Ginny looked up, startled, and saw they'd reached the barrier; Ron was just disappearing through it, and Dad and the twins were gone. Mum's hand was gentle but firm on her elbow, and she was watching Ginny intently.
"I'm fine," Ginny said, pulling her arm free. She glanced around, but no one was watching her, so she strode through to the platform. Mum appeared behind her and looked like she might say more, so Ginny gave her a hasty hug and then went to get her trunk from Dad, who'd waited for them. She hugged him as well, and Dad helped her lift her trunk onto the train. "I'll see you in June," she said, forcing a smile, and then dragged her trunk further into the train, in search of an empty compartment. She wasn't in the mood for company, nor did she think anyone would particularly want hers.
A pair of Slytherin boys from her Potions and Defence classes hissed at her, like snakes, as she passed their compartment, and Ginny felt her face redden. A group of Hufflepuffs from Ron's year ushered one of their friends away from her, muttering about the Heir. Harry passed right by her, and seemed not to see her, though she saw him stop out of the corner of her eye, when Malfoy and the other second year Slytherins asked if she wanted to sit with them; they shared some of the same views, apparently. Ginny bit back insults and tears all at once, and both wished her brothers were here to help her, and was glad they weren't; they'd be sure to get a detention for fighting on the train.
"What do you say, Weasley?" Malfoy patted the seat next to him, and the pug faced girl on his other side giggled.
"Ginny!" Then, Harry was there, and Ginny didn't know whether she wanted to sink through the floor, or be grateful he was there. He'd take her back to Ron at the very least – he was too nice not to.
Harry the hero, Tom's voice said. Not that you deserve saving. And he was right; she didn't. But Harry was there anyway, though she couldn't work out why; she was fairly sure he hated her and she couldn't blame him for that in the least. Harry didn't look at the Slytherins, but they jeered at him, particularly the blonde one that was Astoria and Vivienne's older sister.
"I just wanted to say- you know-" Harry looked a bit embarrassed. "-that I'm sorry."
"What?" she asked, genuinely confused.
"Riddle took you last week to get to me," he said. "After Hermione and Draco were attacked, it was only really you and Ron left, and Ron was with me, so- I- I'm sorry you had to go through all that. It's my fault you were ever involved, and all because Riddle- I just- don't want you to-"
"You're sorry?" she asked, stunned, and a little angry. She took a step closer to him, and was pleased to see he didn't flinch away from her. She was less pleased that they seemed to have gathered an audience of curious students both in the corridor, or obviously listening from inside nearby compartments. "You didn't make me-"
"I know it was Riddle," Harry said quietly, eyes boring into hers, and Ginny frowned. "But he only did it because of me. Sorry you were involved."
And then Ginny realised what he was doing, and a quick glance around at the students in the corridor showed that it seemed to be working; everyone knew Harry had been involved too, and had no reason not to believe him; no longer did those gathered look at her with hostility. Pity – which made Ginny equally uncomfortable – seemed to be the dominant expression. But if they felt sorry for her, then maybe they'd leave her alone, and that, Ginny thought, was a priceless gift. She turned to Harry, but before she could say anything, Malfoy spoke.
"Your fault, Potter?" he snorted. "My father said she did it. That Weasley attacked everyone." Hydrus lifted a thin finger to point a Ginny, looking particularly pleased with himself, and Ginny felt her heart sink.
"Then your father obviously doesn't know what he's talking about," Harry snapped. "Not that that's anything new." Malfoy flushed an ugly red colour. "Riddle's basilisk's what was attacking everyone, not Ginny, and Riddle was giving it instructions… unless you're suggesting Ginny can speak parseltongue?" Ginny kept her eyes firmly on her shoes.
"But Father-"
"-was too busy getting you out of the school after Draco was petrified, and trying to get Dumbledore sacked, to have much idea of anything else," Harry said.
"He was at the school when she went down to meet the Dark-"
"I don't remember seeing him," Harry said, arching an eyebrow.
"Well, obviously he wasn't actually down-"
"Obviously," Harry said pointedly. It went without saying that Harry had been. He watched Malfoy for a moment longer, and when he – and the other Slytherins – looked as if they'd stay quiet, turned to Ginny and offered her a half-smile.
He really doesn't hate me, she thought, and felt her throat close over. No, don't cry, don't cry-
"I really am sorry he went after you," he said.
"It's- I- It's all right," Ginny said, and Harry's expression eased; not because she'd accepted his apology, but because she was finally playing along.
"Ginny!"
Then Fred was there, with George and Ron and Lee in tow, and Ginny was saved. Harry too, looked relieved. Fred took Ginny's trunk from her, and Ron helped Harry with Hedwig's cage.
"Wondered where you'd got to," George said, giving Malfoy a dirty look, before turning to Ginny. "We've got a compartment down the back." Ginny nodded and followed them, falling into line beside Harry.
"You all right?" he asked.
She nodded and added, "Thanks. Looks like I owe you my reputation, as well as my life." She smiled, but she wasn't joking. She owed him everything. Harry seemed to realise that, and looked uncomfortable.
"I don't know if they believed me," he said, waving that hand that wasn't pulling his trunk back down the corridor. "I tried, but it might not help-"
"You still tried," she said. He nodded.
"I wasn't- I- er- didn't mean about Malfoy though, when I asked-"
"Oh," Ginny said.
"Sorry, I'm not very good at this- stuff. What I meant is- are you- how are you?" Ginny's reflexive answer of 'I'm fine', didn't seem able to come out.
"I'm alive," she said instead, and gave him a half-hearted smile to try to make light of the situation. Harry didn't smile.
"I see," he said, and she thought that maybe he did.