Chapter Twenty-Five

A horrific pounding in Harry's head couldn't be ignored no matter how many times he switched from laying on his left side to his right side. The pain from the consequences of his own choices grew more difficult to deal with every day. When he finally forced himself awake, he wished he hadn't. Only vaguely could he remember laying down on the sofa in the drawing room the night before. It hadn't been his intention to spend the whole night there. Of course it also hadn't been his intention to finish off that bottle of fire whiskey, but he had.

The insistent pounding started up again, sending shooting pain through his poor head. Realizing it was someone knocking on his front door, he grew frustrated and annoyed. Who would be at his home that early in the morning? Considering the handful of people who had access to cross the security wards to approach his front door, he didn't know who would be bothering him when he was trying to sleep. A quick look at the clock on his mantel proved it wasn't as early as he assumed. Harry sighed. It was a good thing he didn't have a job to go to. He would've been terribly late that day.

Wanting nothing more than to make the pounding stop, he moved as quickly to the front door as he could. Seeing Neville standing outside was a complete surprise. They hadn't spoken to each other since the day he visited his old friend in his flat above the Leaky Cauldron the day after he accidentally let out the secret of Barty Crouch's existence. Clutched in Neville's hand was a glossy copy of the next edition of The Quibbler.

"Can we talk?"

There was a confidence in Neville's tone that should've put Harry at ease, but it didn't. If he read the article, he had no doubt that the other wizard was there to discuss Crouch. Some subjects were harder to talk about than others. As much as Harry wanted Neville on his and Hermione's side, he knew it wouldn't be easy. Not hearing a single catch in Neville's voice told him that the wizard was prepared, ready to have the discussion. Harry wasn't sure he would ever be fully ready.

"Yes, of course."

He stepped aside to allow Neville inside. Thankfully, his unexpected guest was polite enough to make no mention of his disheveled appearance. No doubt he looked terrible. He felt terrible. Knowing that he would need something in his stomach to keep from being sick if he was awake much longer, he led Neville downstairs to the kitchen.

"Sit down before you fall down, Harry. I'll make you some tea."

When Neville was determined, there was no good way to defy him. Doing as he was told, Harry watched him move about his kitchen with confidence and ease. After the war despite his house being in such disrepair and the scene of some terrible memories, it become a refuge for many of the ones who survived. Perhaps Neville wasn't quick to make a rude remark about Harry's appearance because he had been heavily intoxicated himself in that very house more times than either of them could count. Very few of the fighters who outlived Voldemort coped with what happened in healthy ways. At least some seemed to move on in more productive manners than others.

A teacup was placed in front of Harry that nearly made him throw up what little contents he had in his stomach. Neville's concoctions were known to be effective in curing hangovers, but that didn't mean they went down very easy. He cast a cooling charm on his cup before gulping it down in one swallow. It was just as horrible as he expected it be. Thankfully, within moments he felt more like himself again. Neville sat down at the table across from Harry and tapped his finger on the magazine.

"I have some questions."

"Where did you get that?"

Even before Neville opened his mouth to explain that Luna gave it to him, Harry knew. He wasn't surprised to know that she had taken it upon herself to make certain one of his toughest critics and potentially most influential allies knew the truth before anyone else. She was a remarkable woman.

"When you are going to marry her, Harry?"

The tension that had been between them for weeks slowly began to crack with the simple question. Despite the serious nature of the discussion he knew was coming, Harry could feel his mouth split into a grin. Neville didn't allow the smile that threatened to turn the corners of his own lips up, but it was obvious that it was there underneath his stoic exterior.

"That's an excellent question, Neville. No idea."

"It's time. She's good for you."

There was no reason to argue with the truth. Yes, she was. Maybe even too good. Harry certainly didn't feel like he deserved a woman like her in his life. He didn't feel worthy. Was that normal in other relationships?

"This article was hard to read."

"It was hard to live through."

"I'm sure it was. I… I wasn't aware of much of what you talked about."

"It's all true."

"I never said I doubted that."

Neville released a deep exhale. His broad shoulders sagged with the effort. No longer seeming as confident as he had when he first arrived, he dropped his eyes from Harry's to stare into his half-empty teacup.

"Some days it feels like I've been angry every single moment of my entire life."

Very few times in their long friendship had Neville been quite so open and honest. Harry didn't have to ask him what made him angry. How could he not know it was about his parents? Everything about his life changed the night the four Death Eaters, including Barty Crouch Junior, tracked down his parents and tortured them into the hollow, sad creatures they became.

"It's unfair what happened to my parents. I don't know how I can truly forgive the monsters responsible. I don't even know if that's possible or something I want to do. They robbed me of my childhood. I've never known my parents, not who they really were."

If there was anyone else in their group of school friends who could understand what Neville meant, it was Harry. He had many of the same feelings about the loss of his own parents. It was all so very unfair. He'd been angry for much of his life too. Unsure when he had given up on that rage, all he knew was he didn't feel the way he used to. Maybe it was the end of the war, the defeat of Voldemort, and the possibilities of the world after his demise. Likely he would never be able to pinpoint the exact moment. It was probably a series of moments that happened gradually.

"Your feelings are likely never going to go away completely. I understand. You just need to learn how to live with them."

It was an unspoken truth that both of the men understood that Harry was talking to himself as well. Neither of them could stay mired in their rage and disappointments forever. No one should live in such a dark, dreary hole. Letting go was difficult, but necessary sometimes.

"I've never thought much about the dementors, honestly. Even when they were on the Hogwarts Express in our compartment third year they never seemed all that real to me. I remember how horrifying they were in the final battle at Hogwarts, but other than the few times I was in the presence of one, I never cared about them. I never considered how frightening it must be to have to be close enough to one to…"

He sighed again. Harry knew it was best that he not interrupt. After a brief pause, Neville looked up to make eye contact once more.

"I don't know how I should feel about Crouch. I want to strangle him with my bare hands. That's probably never going to change. If I could go the rest of my life without ever seeing his face again… but you were right about what you said in this article."

His fingers tapped the magazine again.

"We should be better than our criminals. The Ministry… I can see why you and Hermione believe what happened to him was wrong and I think I finally agree. He should've been in Azkaban. He should still be in Azkaban, but what Fudge did to him shouldn't have happened."

"There are no easy answers, Neville."

A few minutes later they parted ways again with a handshake over the threshold of the front door. Perhaps Neville wasn't all the way to their side, but he was closer. If he could be convinced that the Ministry of Magic acted cruelly, maybe there would be others who would too. He felt more confident that the article in The Quibbler might actually make a difference.

The conversation in Hermione's kitchen was very awkward to start. No one knew what to say first. Both men seemed to be waiting for her to return to the table to say anything of any substance at all. She rushed through brewing the tea using every single magical shortcut she knew. Even when she placed the teacups on the table in front of them, they took their time preparing their tea to their personal tastes. Part of her worried they would sit there in uncomfortable tension for hours without ever getting to the heart of the matter. If it wasn't for Kingsley's practiced diplomacy, they might have.

"I was given an advanced copy of the next Quibbler. I think you should both read it."

Hermione picked the magazine back off the table where she had laid it earlier to make the tea. No longer able to ignore the curiosity that always threatened to overpower her good sense, she flipped it open to the article referenced on the cover. Turning it towards Barty so they could both see, she read through the paragraphs as quickly as she could while still retaining what it was saying. She had always been of the opinion that skimming wasn't reading at all. It was just looking at the words but not understanding.

Everything about the article was awful. Well-written, it was full of information that she had come to learn during her research, but also including a personal touch the reports and files in the Ministry Archives couldn't provide. Harry spared no details of what his experiences were like dealing with the dementors since he was in third year up until the day he was able to finally destroyer the last of its species. He even provided a very vivid description of what he saw under the dementor's hood that nearly made her sick. She was almost in tears when she reached the end. One look at Barty's unnaturally pale face answered any question she might have had to the authenticity. Harry's account was personal to him.

"I don't suppose I have to ask if that was an accurate representation of what happened to you."

Barty could only shake his head. Words failed him. All three of them seated at that table knew Harry wasn't exaggerating anything. Hermione was more affected than she realized it was possible to be. Her eyes continued to burn, but she willed herself not to give into her emotions and cry. There would be time for that later when she was alone. She didn't want to draw attention to herself or make it all about her. It wasn't.

"I knew it was bad. It was supposed to be bad, but I had no idea."

There was a marked difference in Kingsley that Hermione appreciated. He too appeared as if he was on the verge of being ill. More like the man she knew he was, she wondered if the article would change more minds like his. It seemed possible. After clearing his throat and composing himself, the Minister met Barty's eyes without flinching.

"Alastor Moody was one of my very best friends."

He was calm and even though there was clear emotion evident in his voice, he was rational and steady. Hermione could see Barty tense up with nerves, unsure where the rest of the conversation would go. There was a very uncomfortable history there that Kingsley seemed determined to address.

"He was my mentor when I was an auror since the very first day of my training. I looked up to that man and eventually, he became one of the dearest and best friends I could ask for. I wanted to kill you when I found out you had imprisoned him in his own trunk for months and pretended to be him."

Barty nodded, but didn't break the eye contact. It would've been easier to look away, to not face the consequences of his past actions and how they affected others. Somehow he continued to surprise Hermione even after living in the same house for months together.

"That's fair. I can't blame you for that."

"I never cared for the Dementor's Kiss. It was barbaric in my mind, but at the time, I thought it was less than you deserved. It didn't seem cruel enough, especially after we learned Voldemort was back because of you."

Though Barty flinched at the use of his old master's name, he nodded again in agreement. Hermione was impressed by how calm Kingsley remained. He must have prepared well for their meeting. Maybe even swallowed a calming potion before he came. She wouldn't blame him. Emotions ran high in the passionate man.

"I'll be honest, Crouch, that I never gave you much thought after that."

"I'm sure you weren't the only one."

To an outsider who didn't know the full story of the man seated next to her, it would've sounded like self-pity, but Barty was only stating a fact. He had been forgotten by nearly everyone. The day he woke up, most who heard his name hadn't remembered his existence for over a decade. Knowing that he was forgotten and that there was no one left who cared what happened to him was a terribly depressing thought.

Some days when she was feeling extra sorry for herself, Hermione thought that no one would care if she just disappeared one day, but she knew that wasn't true. Even in the darkest depths of what she knew was her depression, she knew that was a lie. There would always be people who cared about her and mourned her loss. But for Barty, with the exception of his former house-elf, it had been true for him. He was just gone one day and no one cared.

Her eyes filled up again with tears. It was such a sad thought. Human beings were social creatures, made and desperate for connections with others. To have no one's life be affected in the slightest by his absence had to have been a horrifying thought. And then before she realized the true nature of her thoughts, Hermione realized that if Barty disappeared from her life that day, she would notice. More than that, she would care.

Just turning her head enough to see Barty's face still focused on Kingsley's was enough to force the tears to fall out of her eyes. Embarrassed, she tried to wipe them away without anyone noticing. How could she explain that she felt sorry for Barty, that she would feel sorry for herself if he just disappeared? It didn't even make sense to her. She took as deep a breath as she could without drawing any attention to herself.

"It was a shock to learn you were awake again. No one even considered that might be a possibility when Harry went on his mission to destroy the dementors."

"Would that have changed your mind if you knew?"

Hermione knew Barty well enough at that point to know he was both joking and being completely serious. Leave it to him to try to lighten up such a dire and intense moment. Had he always been like that or was that something he had to learn to keep from going mad? Kingsley sighed again before answering. He seemed to be considering how to answer the question very carefully.

"No, I would still support him. The dementors were foul, evil monsters. The world would've been a better place if they'd been destroyed years ago."

None of them could argue. Dementors served no useful purpose. Their whole existence was just to bring about misery and pain. Since third year Hermione had had nightmares about them at random times but especially after the final battle at Hogwarts. Researching them and talking to Barty about them in recent weeks hadn't helped. They were often on her mind.

"Seeing you again brought up a lot of memories and anger that I hadn't acknowledged since the war. I did not… I didn't conduct myself as well as I should have and for that, I owe each of you a rather large apology."

Hermione knew he was being sincere the moment Kingsley's eyes met hers. It would take time before she could ever fully forgive him for how he treated her in those stressful first few days, but she appreciated that he was trying.

"I used to pride myself on my ability to think logically before I reacted emotionally, but…"

He sighed once more. There was no need for him to finish his sentence. Everyone understood. He was allowed to feel human emotions just like everyone else. It was important that he not use his power and influence incorrectly just because he was upset.

"I would like it to be said that for at least today's visit, I am simply here as Kingsley Shacklebolt, not the Minister for Magic. This is an entirely personal visit and any opinions I might express are mine and mine alone."

Hermione had to smile at how official he sounded.

"It was wrong of me to force you to stay here, Mr. Crouch just because I was angry with Hermione."

Kingsley turned towards Hermione, Barty forgotten at least for the next few moments.

"And I was angry that you didn't just go along with what I wished. It felt like a betrayal, but I knew how wrong that was. I was asking you to betray who you were at your very core and that was wrong. Of course you wouldn't just blindly go along with something you believed was an injustice. I'm very sorry."

Before she could accept his apology, Barty tried to lighten the mood.

"I'm not sorry. Hermione's house has been a much more comfortable prison than Azkaban."

There was quiet laughter amongst them all. It helped to make the meeting less tense than before. Glad to have offered his apology to Hermione, Kingsley turned his full attention back to Barty.

"I read Harry's article and I've done some research of my own. I never really thought about how cruel the Kiss was. I thought it was barbaric, yes, but beyond that it didn't affect me so it wasn't my concern."

Kingsley appeared ashamed.

"The Ministry has been a part of a great many tragedies and outright crimes in its past. There is much that needs to be atoned for."

Hermione couldn't agree more. She nodded her head. The Ministry had always prided itself on being good, but it wasn't. Not always. Its laws alone proved that time and time again. Harry even mentioned in his interview how Umbridge used her influence in the Ministry to send a dementor to attack him when he was still a child. Who could do something so horrible? She could only imagine what other sorts of sick acts she would learn if she could discover the full and accurate history of the Ministry of Magic.

"The more I consider your particular case, the more I am inclined to agree with Hermione and Harry that you have indeed fulfilled the terms of your sentence."

Even as she heard the words come out of Kingsley's mouth, Hermione struggled to believe it. Kingsley wasn't the only voice that mattered, but he was important. A great many in their society admired him and valued what he had to say. Was it possible that he would fight for Barty too? She didn't want to get her hopes up.

"You were sentenced to life in Azkaban for your involvement in what happened to the Longbottoms."

At the reminder of his most heinous crime, Barty dropped his eyes to his teacup and nodded. Clearly he was uncomfortable remembering that awful night. Hermione had always been curious just what the extent of his actions were, but never thought it was appropriate to ask. If he wanted to tell her one day, he would.

"It was claimed that you were sentenced to the Kiss by Cornelius Fudge because of your escape, but we all know that's complete rubbish. If that were true, than all of the Death Eaters who escaped and were then recaptured in the Department of Mysteries would've been given the same sentence. No, it was purely done as a way for Fudge to cover his own sorry arse."

Yet again during that meeting Kingsley sighed. There was a lot to sigh over when he considered the actions of the past.

"Some days, not so much now as right after the war thankfully, I feel like the vast majority of my time as Minister is being spent cleaning up messes that Fudge left behind. Pius Thicknesse too, but I can't exactly blame him on account of him being under the Imperius Curse."

He shook his head. Hermione knew his job caused him stress, but usually he was better at hiding it. She thought about what Blaise said about the job not being worth the stress and how she didn't have to become the Minister just to prove to everyone she was worthy of being a witch. It was annoying when he had a point. Looking at how exhausted Kingsley was and remembering how he had looked other times in the past, she had to agree with Blaise. Not that she would ever tell him that. His head would get too big.

"You should have been granted a new trial for the new crimes you committed after you escaped from Azkaban. There was a long list."

Barty nodded. In her head Hermione tried to list off the ones she knew about: kidnapping Moody and keeping him imprisoned in his own trunk for months, killing his father, attacking multiple students, though she had to admit she couldn't keep from smiling every time she thought of him transfiguring Malfoy into a ferret, helping Voldemort get a new body. The list just went on and on.

"A more competent Minister who wasn't afraid of the rest of the world learning about his mistakes would've advised the Wizengamot to give you another life sentence in Azkaban. You should've been taken back to prison the very moment it was discovered who you really were. The fact that Fudge took it upon himself to bring a dementor to the castle to deal with you without a trial was wrong. He deserves a life sentence in Azkaban in my personal opinion."

Hermione felt her mouth open in shock at Kingsley's words. She couldn't believe he was actually on their side. Of course she had hoped he would come around, but part of her thought he would be far too stubborn.

"Even though it was another Minister who abused his power to get you Kissed, I'm afraid I am unable to use my influence alone to offer you an official parole. That is a decision that I must rely on the esteemed members of the Wizengamot to make."

Both Barty and Hermione felt defeated in that same moment. It seemed unlikely that they would get enough members to agree. Kingsley reached into his robe pocket to pull out an empty glass vial.

"However, I have a plan that might work. I need your help, Crouch."

"Of course."

He held up the vial for them to see better.

"I need your memories. As many as you're willing to give me. I want the moment you were Kissed and anything you remember after that."

Though he looked sick at the thought, Barty nodded his head in agreement. He turned to face Hermione. When he addressed her, his voice was a soft whisper.

"Would you mind stepping out of the room? I don't want… I don't you to see this."

It hurt her feelings a little to comply, but of course Hermione did as she was asked. Extracting memories could be a very personal experience. She didn't know why he would ask for her to leave. Despite a part of her wanting to argue, she respected his request to exit the kitchen into the lounge. Freezing inside thanks to the open windows, she moved around the house closing the windows for something to keep her occupied.

After only a few minutes, she heard the back door open and close. She assumed that Barty left on a walk to the cliffs until she saw him enter the room very quickly and go into his bedroom to shut the door. The crack of Kingsley's Apparition could be heard seconds later. Alone again with Barty, she was worried about him. Would he be all right?

Waiting around patiently and trying to give him space had been her plan. Only a quarter of an hour passed before she could stand it no longer. She knocked on his bedroom door. There was no answer, but she pushed it open anyway. It seemed wrong to leave him alone when he was in such a vulnerable state.

Barty stood at his bedroom window overlooking the back garden. Lost in thought, he didn't respond or even turn around when she called out his name. Hermione approached him with extreme caution. Gently, she touched his shoulder and said his name again. He turned towards her with watery eyes.

"Are you okay?"

His attempt at a smile turned into a grimace. He pointed to his head and tapped it with his finger.

"It's quiet in here now."

A tear rolled out of his eye. The urge to comfort him was strong. Hermione didn't know what possessed her to do so, but she leaned up to kiss him on his lips.