After that awkward start, he needed a moment to remember his presentation. He actually needed a moment to recover, but he hid is distraction behind professional etiquette and stammered until his subject came back to him. "Thank you, and sorry for that bit of unscheduled activity," he apologized.
He ended up thanking the Minister, the sponsors, and every one who had a hand in putting the tour together. After making his standard, and this time redundant, introduction, he launched into his presentation.
At first they listened politely, but they'd already tasted blood. The mistake of allowing this audience to see a glimpse of his real life, had them hungry for unexpected excitement. They were too riled up now, too anticipatory to settle for a schoolroom lecture. Draco's appearance, his hurried flourish of action, his unguarded appeal to Harry, had captured their imaginations. His daughter clinging to him, had stolen the show.
His was a forty minute time slot to run through the highlights of his best information. Later tour dates would allow him longer presentations, but tonight was just part of the opening ceremony. He began with his first impressions of the people who would later become key players in his time at Hogwarts, and eventually the day the school was left in ruins. As he talked about Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Professor Snape, and the journey he'd taken with them, he cast their images between himself and the audience and summarized the parts they had played. Eventually his nerves settled and he felt the restlessness within the audience calm to appreciate the vividness of what he was able to show them.
Not everyone in the room had heard of Hogwarts. International travelers, generations apart, beheld glimpses of school life on castle grounds before Voldemort's return and after. Harry took them through the history as seamlessly as he could summarize and still make it meaningful. He introduced them to Hagrid, the half-giant. He showed them Quidditch to balance out scenes of carnage. He showed them Dumbledor's Army, Ministry prophecies, and the duel that broke his heart between Snape and the current Headmistress. It broke his heart for the hundredth time, but he felt he had to show it. If anything could prove that he wasn't here to gloss over what had happened, it was that brief fight burned into his mind. How wrong they'd all been. It was one of the safest combat scenes he could show them. Other, harsher scenes were not suitable for this crowd. He gave them exactly three seconds of Voldemort's deadliest gaze upon him in the forest, and no more. Just to make it real to them. He closed by giving tribute to Snape.
"Some of us stepped up when the fight came to us. But this wizard, no matter how you feel about him, risked his life everyday to make Voldemort believe he was a Death Eater and that he hated me. I lost count of how many times he saved my life, and how many hoops he jumped through to get Dumbledor the information he wanted. He had the courage to be disliked. To be judged. And he outlasted and out fought the whole lot of us. We only did it for a few short years. He'd done it half his life. So please remember that real heroes don't look picture perfect. Sometimes, they don't look or act like anything we'd expect at all. Thank you, and I hope to see you at my next lecture."
Applause was ample, but they didn't let him off the stage so fast. "Harry, can you take a few questions?"
Several audience members shouted this request at the same time. He'd forgotten about questions. "Um, sure, I've got time for a few."
A witch displaying her journalist credentials, stood up. "That was marvelous! You were recently involved in the train derailment in Dungarven. Can you comment on whether that was actually another attack on your life? Are you still being targeted by Death Eaters?"
"Or better," a man behind her shouted. "Use your wand to show us what happened on that bloody train. No one's been arrested and seventy-one people are dead. If you can show us bloody battles at Hogwarts, you can show the authorities some freaking clues."
Murmurs of agreement washed over the crowd. It took Harry back, but he exchanged glances with the Minister and had an answer for that. "I was involved in that incident. It's true. However, I've given my statements to the investigators. I've even shown them my memories and they've been ruled inconclusive, so they're not going to do much good here. I didn't see anything, so I don't have anything to show you."
"Did your recent hospitalization have anything to do with the incident?" This came from the other side of the room, from a wizard in burgundy robes and a turban. "The two incidents were spaced a week apart. Some say political extremists are still after you and are perfectly willing to murder innocent people around you. You seem confident that this is not the case. Can you be sure?"
"I wouldn't be standing here if I thought I was any kind of a target like that. Are there any questions about the lecture itself?"
"Mr. Potter, Draco Malfoy's appearance with your daughter tonight, makes two high profile incidents this week. You're normally a very private family, can you tell us if he means to carry out his threats to purchase the O'Hair Plaza and sack every one there?"
"I literally have no idea what you're talking about."
"It just seems like a rash threat for a Death Eater, acquitted of his crimes, to make."
"Former Death Eater," Harry corrected this new person in the back.
"Presumably. What happened in the hotel that caused the controversial photo in the first place? No one still knows that story and Mr. Malfoy seems hellbent on keeping it hush. Can you share anything? And does any of it relate to Mr. Malfoy's interruption tonight?"
Harry's throat was starting to close on his anger. Before he even knew why, he was telling them more truth than they deserved. "I passed out two days ago and I don't know why. It might've been related to train injuries, I don't know. I haven't spoken to Draco since then, until tonight, so no, there's no big secret as to why he's making threats. He probably just doesn't like horrible pictures of his friends showing up on the front page, is all."
He knew he shouldn't take their bait, but it came from a desire to make things simple so they'd drop it. Something couldn't be a mystery if it was out in the open. But no one seemed to want to talk about his lecture. They wanted to make it personal.
"Then you admit, your relationship with Draco is more than supportive. You've allowed the media to think that you're helping him raise his child. It's fair to say that you're a couple. Critics of Draco Malfoy believe he has something else to hide, and this is why his threats are so strong. Are you aware of the allegations that his refusal to undergo a blood test with his daughter, was the only thing that kept him from going to prison?"
The Minister jumped in, "Madam you are completely out of line. That has nothing to do with –"
Harry waved to silence him. "I won't play this game. Draco and I have already been on trial. So unless you have questions pertaining to the lecture, I'm done here."
"Your testimony, your friends, and a sympathetic jury, allowed a Death Eater to walk free. What would a blood test show of your daughter's parentage?"
Harry looked from the woman to Thella's empty chair. Thank god, she was already on her feet and walking out of the tent with Iece. Whatever threats Draco had made, he had evidently aroused old arguments against himself. "Ms., I don't know what you've heard, but this lecture is over."
"I've heard, Mr. Potter, that the truth of that child's parentage, would've changed the entire outcome of the trials. I've heard that Draco Malfoy is no more the birth-father of that little girl than I am. I've heard that evidence is mounting against your character, that you suffer severe depression for all the lies you've told, that sent innocent people to prison, and kept murderers from going. That two days ago, the incident at O'Hair was a suicide attempt, one of many, and that the little girl you're both raising, is your birth-daughter, not Draco's."
Harry narrowed his focus on the woman. Above her tweed collar and tight dark curls, her mouth cracked with age lines all around it, exactly like a dry riverbed. She looked at him with steel in her eyes and her smile challenged him to call her a liar. He couldn't read the name on her badge, but noted that she stood with a barrage of supporters who cheered her every accusation.
The audience fell silent, taking in their confrontation greedily. Harry went from giving an older lady her chance to speak, to wanting to hex the bitch into next week. He couldn't hide it. He couldn't deny how deeply her accusations went, but he was damned if he'd admit to it. Not like this. He knew, for some, his expression gave him away. She'd struck hidden gold. He could still tip the balance. No matter how the trials had ended, people knew a high stakes hunt when they saw one, and that was always more interesting than solid convictions. She wouldn't have gone after him if she didn't know something.
He pulled her name from her mind. "Tally Dellaway, you've been collecting evidence against me for a long time. Even when you had to manufacture it."
She stood her ground, blanching only a little at the use of her real name, which she had not written on her badge. "Answer the question, Mr. Potter. You're a war veteran, your every lecture demonstrates your honor. Who is the real father of that child?"
That was all she had to do. Put the question out there. Make it public. Her job was done. Harry spent the next few seconds burning through the information in her mind. They had wanted to see a train on fire, he'd show them a goddamn train on fire.
He withdrew his wand and cast it. He threw her thoughts, not his, out into the air for all to see. Even he was not prepared for what they showed. Recent faces in the news, a missing ambassador and chemist, slid lifelessly to the floor of a truck stop toilet. Disguises were tossed into incinerators. Syringes made of biodegradable gelatin, melted in rain and sewage where she disposed of them.
She took off her wig, staring at her reflection in a hotel mirror. Polyjuice wore off, revealing her height to be five inches taller, her hair to be cropped and brown, and her body to be male. He, Tally, reached for a broom and suddenly he was airborne and flying over the path of a train. A familiar train. Though no one in the tent had ever seen the snake-like locomotion from the vantage point of looking down on it, everyone knew whose eyes they were seeing it through, and which train it was. Tally flew with others. Others who looked like Death Eaters but bore no tattoos. They streaked their black-smoked apparitions across the sky. They swarmed the rear of the train. No wands ever showed themselves, but rear wheels and chassis glowed red from a concentration of heat.
The last two cars popped like exploding cans and were thrown through clouds of fire that turned every stunned face watching it, red. Each succeeding car burst into flames and tore loose. From overhead, it was easy to see them flying off the rails as fire ate its way up the train and the trestle crumpled beneath it. Even Talley, stood mesmerized by his work, and the way Harry's magic revealed it to the world. Harry's mind couldn't help but contribute what he knew of the same scene. What he knew from an entirely different vantage point, from his seat inside the train.
The audience had wanted to see his memories. He showed them. This time, the sky went black and the end of the train ignited, burning into a fiery tail that chased each car until it got to him. It was a series of engulfments that happened so fast, he was already dead and gone by the time Tally taped a tiny camera to the button hole of his blouse and pressed a remote that zoomed in on Harry's face, chest, and shorts, taking pictures.
When Tally passed in front of the mirror this time, he wore an ambulance driver's uniform and injected something into Harry's arm before his partner noticed. There were other things Harry could've shown, but they'd all seen enough as the room span out of control around him. Magical law enforcement secured the exits, restraining Tally and his supporters. Harry was slow to adjust to the fact that he's been attacked three times this week, all of which would've resulted in his death, had Snape not done something, given him some kind of protection and immunity. This murdering wizard had actually injected him, possibly with the same poison that killed the missing ambassador and chemist. Whatever that injection contained, it had been preferable to using as spell. Why?
In the tent, people ran to clear space for the onslaught of magical law enforcement who entered. Harry saw members of the CIUM, including the white-haired Admiral. Minister Banks grabbed him and pulled him away from the podium, destroying the last of the projection that was already fleeting from the air. A blast of wand fire was short lived as aurors quickly took over and subdued the instigators who weren't going without a fight.
This was horrible. This was a hellish disaster, and it was all his fault. Responsibility held him to his spot. He ducked from flying hexes, but it was the Minister's pull on his arm that jerked him into the wings of the stage. People ran into him trying to get out of the way. He gripped his wand, but Banks steadied his hand.
"They've got this, Harry. You've already given these people what they want to see. Don't make another move."
His words were backed by strength in his grip. Bank's hands were shaking. They were almost violent, locking Harry into a restricted pose, confusing him. He wasn't the one who needed restraining. When men wearing CIUM suits and badges took hold of Harry, he understood that Banks had made a point of getting him under control before they did. He felt his wand wrestled from his grasp and both arms held securely as he was marched through the inner panels of the tent.
"Let go! Where are you taking me?"
No one answered him. Banks was not allowed to follow and Harry looked back, watching the Minister stare. He wore a look of helplessness, as if all his power could not prevent Harry from having to endure this indignity.
Ash's mouth hung open. He'd learned so much from the boy at the podium. Correction, Foster's Harry Potter. And Foster's true identity. Professor Severus Snape. He'd seen him, a solid apparition cast from the boy's wand, into a massive, vaulted corridor of stone masonry, so clear and vivid and life-sized, that Ash could've stepped into it. Medieval torches cast long shadows, and a flourish of billowing black robes and hair, sent Ash's imagination reeling.
This was a school? A real school for magic people? That was his Foster, careening like impending doom through the ranks of teenage students and children. He looked grim and unsmiling. No surprise there. That was his Foster standing in front of a class, wrapped in layers that concealed the build of a man far more agile that his stiff demeanor let on. That was Foster fighting a duel with an older woman. A real witch. Rather more regal and dignified than portrayed in childhood stories. And that was Foster, with blood pouring from his throat as the boy held him and, strangely, collected his tears in a vial. And that was Foster dead, with his eyes open. Only Ash knew it wasn't.
He almost hadn't gotten into the show. He didn't have the credentials, but an appeal to Mediwizard, Avi Rankar, a reminder of how he'd helped the CIUM, and had asked for nothing in return, got him tickets to Harry's lecture and an an activated charm that let him see and experience the goings on of the wizard festival. It was a twenty-four hour pass and he wasn't going to miss a second of it.
When the change happened, when he took one of the wafers and put on the special sunglasses Avi sent to him, his vision had opened to another world entirely. There were now buildings in places he thought were empty lots. There were young people he thought were homeless, wearing splendid robes and carrying wands. Seniors at the retirement village were flying on brooms and throwing balls through giant hoops. It was like a hidden world within the normal world. It was all so great. The wafer and glasses had come with a note: Observe only! Do not interfere with anything you see.
Got it. If the wafer contained hallucinogenic properties, if this was all a joke, then he was a sucker because it was all so real. It was like getting something he never knew he wanted. Proof that there was more to life, proof that there was a better way, proof that undocumented wonders still existed for those who wanted them strongly enough. Those willing to risk their sanity. He'd driven around all day before the lecture, just looking into places he thought empty before, taking in the wonders, including the sight of his neighbors. With his new sight, he saw that some homes had strange crests on their fronts. He understood that these were signals to other magical folks. Stones arranged on the grass, advertised very specific information about the families living there. Here, villagers had made themselves known to one another and remained hidden to those who were not magic. He tried to memorize everything he saw, knowing he would not have this amazing vision forever.
At the lecture, the sight of Harry astonished him. There was something about having seen the boy as dead as he would ever see him, knowing what Foster had done to save him, and then having him walk right past Ash's chair to the podium. Harry Potter was thrilling. On his feet and walking around perfectly alive, he came across as a sturdy young man in spite of his compact size. Still too much boy in the man, which wouldn't let Ash get past calling him that. With his five o'clock shadow and thin glasses, there was a strain in his face. Behind his polite smile, it spoke of inner battles not meant for the public eye. It spoke of youth being more of a hindrance than a help. It showed strain, as if the boy were a question away from saying what he really thought and shutting the place down. Turns out, Ash had guessed it right.
Harry was a little too ruffled to be clean-cut. The unexpected surprise of seeing the little girl thrust into his arms by the other young man, the shock of the crowd, the gossip running rampant around Ash, all added to his unfolding delight. The day seemed to have no boundaries, no edges, and no end to the newness of magic and information. The wafer had most certainly been a drug that tore down barriers in his brain, and the glasses brought it all into focus somehow, translated it into meaning. He still didn't know what certain things meant, the colorful lights he saw around people, and the glowing letters and symbols that sometimes looked like projections into their personal space. It didn't matter. He was here. He had made it into this awesome world and was finally seeing reality for the first time. There was no going back. Even if the wafer wore off, he could not forget this.
He'd settled into the lecture, into his seat, so comfortably in spite of being a man of no magic among wizards and witches. He'd been so eager to hear what Foster's rescue project had to say, that when the wizards began to fire at one another, the weapons didn't faze him. It looked like a magical laser show to him. He was slow to drop to the floor, to scamper out of the way, like everyone else. His mind was racing to piece together Foster's past, from everything the boy had shown them. He didn't want to miss a thing.
By the time it occurred to him to take cover, and he peeked out into a tent full of smoke and stampeding wizards, Harry was gone. On his hands and knees, Ash followed everyone else out and let himself be ushered onto a grassy area with the rest. They were quarantined and held for hours. Instead of being upset by it all, Ash relished being counted among them, kept his mouth shut, and learned what he could.
A/N: If you're enjoying yourself, I would love to know. Thanks for all the kudos and comments! :-)
