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Without further ado..
Enjoy!
Chapter 65 – Muggle musings
For the first time in weeks, the worst snow had melted and the sky above the ancient castle showed patches of blue sky. As Harry had longed to go outside to look at it, he changed the meeting place with Draco last-minute, sending another message over to the Slytherin at breakfast on Tuesday. At the moment, he was looking out over the lake, leaning against a willow tree stump on the shore, waiting. His breath was visible in the crisp air and owls circled around the familiar towers, casting shadows against the drifting clouds. He quietly observed the majestic animals as they soared around aimlessly, enjoying this moment in which he could let his worries briefly fly away with them. The moment was broken when he heard stomping and crunching grass as Draco arrived.
''Couldn't you have asked to meet somewhere warmer?'' the blond snarled, giving Harry a death-glare.
Slowly, the teen looked up. ''Not my fault if you don't cast warming charms,'' he replied. ''I'd have thought you to be more used to this weather than me. Don't you still have Quidditch training?''
''Not in these conditions!''
Harry shrugged. ''Not wonder that the Slytherin team keeps losing then. It's not even snowing anymore. Angelina was making a ruckus all morning about rousing everyone on our team to go fly.'' Draco grumbled in reply and inspected the spot Harry was sitting at critically. In the shadow of the tree stump, the grass was still frosted over, so Draco wiped some of the white crusts away with his foot and then draped a blanket over the area to sit on. Harry had to press his lips together not stifle a laugh. ''I didn't realise you were planning a picknick,'' Harry smirked. ''Is the ground too harsh on your royal buttocks?''
''Not all of us want to show our buttocks through ripped robes,'' Draco threw back, withdrawing a pack of cigarettes and instantly lighting one.
The Gryffindor rolled his eyes and drew his wand to cast a privacy ward and a warming charm in quick succession. ''You can be glad that Umbridge hasn't caught you smoking, I'm sure it wouldn't fit with her image of perfect students. Next thing you know, we have a new Decree.''
Draco hummed in agreement and exhaled a slow plume of smoke. Irritated, Harry wafted it away, none too fond of the smell. ''I'm wondering when the next Decree will arrive… and what it'll contain. We'll have to put up with her for about six more months, won't we? I hope she gets murdered at the end of the year,'' Draco remarked airily. ''She's a nuisance.''
Harry didn't protest, although he personally hoped for a political downfall rather than murder. That would hit her much harder. ''We didn't come here to talk about Umbridge,'' he impatiently said, wanting to get to the heart of the matter. While still reserved about Draco's loyalty, he was eager to finally have someone to share more of the story with who wouldn't judge him for trusting Voldemort's opinions. And they only had about seventy minutes before needing to pack up. ''What do you already know?''
Draco did not appear to be in such a hurry, leaning back as well. ''You and Weasley disappeared from school early, all the teachers were tight-lipped, and through father's contacts I got some pieces of info. First of all about Weasley's dad being in the hospital, secondly about the Dark Lord suddenly being unreachable to all but Crouch. Father wasn't incredibly happy, he'd wished to speak to the Dark Lord during this holiday about my future. Mother was pleased that he didn't get to it.''
''And are you? Pleased?''
The other gave a curt shrug. ''I'm eager to fight, to get recognition, but I don't know much of what is happening,'' he admitted quietly. ''So far, I haven't seen much action. Most of the Dark Lord's previous followers are locked up and whenever I did catch glimpses of him, he was busy with impossible amounts of paperwork. It's not nearly as glorious as father's stories of nightly raids and secret meetings. Mother wrote about those… creatures being in our house for a while. That was the most exciting thing that transpired, and I wasn't even home to see it. I'm only in fifth year anyways, stuck at school for two and a half more years, so there isn't much I can do right now.''
''That you can't see anything happening does not mean that nothing is going on,'' Harry countered. ''Voldemort is influencing the Ministry, the press, the public… both here and abroad. The 'glorious' time your father spoke of was filled with prejudice and unjustified murder.'' His voice was maybe a bit harsher than he'd intended. ''Much of the first war was based on misguided beliefs, strategies that proved to be unsuccessful. And I don't think it's a bad thing that they were! I realise that we grew up in different circumstances, but surely you don't think that what went on in the war was good? So much unnecessary bloodshed, betrayals, pain…''
''My family served a higher purpose, while giving Muggles what they deserved!'' Draco sharply said, turning towards Harry to stare him down. ''Did you just come here to lecture me, Potter?''
The Gryffindor stared back. ''From the moment it began till it ended, it was a war between light and dark, Muggles were only marginally involved, mostly in shock murders. None of you lot have ever been able to give me a convincing reason as to why you think they deserve to be subdued or killed in the first place. The witch hunts mainly hurt Muggles themselves, they caught hardly any of ours.'' In a twisted way, he could understand Voldemort's hatred for Muggles due to personal grievances, but most Pure-bloods, like the Malfoys, had hardly ever interacted with them in their lives.
He continued: ''Muggleborns have never been more than a potential threat either, with Obliviator Squads cleaning up after them. Yes, magical culture changed and became too much alike Muggle, but that was our doing, not theirs. Dark Pure-blooded families claimed the old rites to themselves and excluded light wizards, squibs and Muggleborns, who sought out different ideals to follow. Failed wars by people like Grindelwald pushed dark magic further away to the depths of 'stuff we don't touch anymore'. Much of this is a recent thing from the past century!''
''I'm sure you'll make yourself popular with those opinions,'' Draco sneered.
''I do not care about being popular, I want to see change without the mess around it that does not need to be there at all! There is a task at hand, a massive piece of work to balance out magic again, and it can be tackled from so many different angles, whereas you only see one. At least Voldemort has enough sense to realise that the way he tried it before didn't work and will never work! It would massively help if you'd stop repeating opinions based on absolutely nothing that you only agree to because your parents told you about them when you were a kid! If I'd have done the same then I'd be in a suburb of London now, washing a car and worrying about the neighbours.''
Draco hissed through his teeth and abruptly got up. ''I came here to find out what you've been up to, not to have my whole family insulted!''
Harry scrambled to his feet too, feeling frustrated. ''You said you didn't know what was going on. This is what has been going on. A huge shift in opinion that starts from the Dark Lord realising he went at it the wrong way. Voldemort is moving forwards, if you don't want to miss out on any action, you should follow instead of clinging onto what you think is right. I'm trying to help you here, Draco. There are so many opportunities out there, and 'I am stuck at school' is not good enough of an excuse to not remain informed. I left school early because I had a vision about the Dark Lord's familiar attacking Ron's dad. I then proceeded to free said familiar as she'd been captured by Dumbledore's men, watched my godfather die and brought him back from the dead and then had a ton of discussions with Voldemort personally about the state of things and how to move forwards, all in the span of two weeks. Change is not waiting around for you.''
''You brought someone back from the dead?'' Draco asked with an astonished expression.
Harry knew that the exasperation he felt to the core of his being could be read all across his face and exclaimed: ''That's what you get hung up about? That's not the point I'm trying to make here! Draco, you're fortuitous enough to have been born smack in the middle of politics, your parents allow you to practise magic at home during holidays and you have contacts and gold that most couldn't even dream of. Put it to use!''
Draco was so… passive, and it pissed him off. The Slytherin was all talk and whining, while being one of the few people their age who had all the means to do whatever he wanted. In a way, the blond was the exact opposite of Voldemort. Both had been Slytherin prefects in their fifth year with sway towards the Head of their house. However, Voldemort hadn't had a penny to his name, no family or contacts to speak of and still had gathered people like moths to a flame by talks and displays of brilliant magic, laying the fundament of his later rise to power. Draco had everything blown up his ass by the time he could walk, yet spent the evenings bragging, complaining, hanging around in the common room making snide comments to others. It was infuriating.
For a moment, it looked like Draco would shout at him or turn and walk away. The pale boy didn't do either, crossing his arms. ''Show me how, Potter,'' he spoke on rather commanding, determined tone. ''I won't be left behind.''
Harry nodded thoughtfully, trying to calm himself down. Any other reaction, and he'd probably have given up on the other. Now…
''Sit down again, and I'll tell you how.''
Over the next hour, Harry shoved his own issues aside, instead trying to inform Draco about every political detail he was aware of apart from a few secrets like Voldemort being Noctua instead of only working together with him, or the exact origins of the Hand of Magic that the Death Eaters were having 'command over'. He elaborated on many issues that he and Voldemort had discussed, made Draco aware of key problems within the Ministry and previous faults in the Dark Lord's plans that had cost him the war even before dying. During the talk, Harry realised a few things. For all of Draco's bragging, Lucius did not in fact reveal nearly as much to his son as expected, keeping the teen in the dark about pretty much anything apart from descriptions of major events and some harmless rumours. Furthermore, Narcissa tried her hardest to protect Draco even more and had for example cut off any possibility of interaction between Draco and Voldemort whenever the Dark Lord had visited Malfoy manor. Only at dinner she had not been able to prevent them from being in the same room. It had annoyed her son, but Harry thought that the woman was sensible in her decision. Draco still twitched each time that Harry spoke Voldemort's name.
After filling the blond in on current goals and plans, including the articles that were about to be published, Draco tried to get back on track about asking Harry about the holidays.
''Umbridge was almost frothing at the mouth at breakfast,'' Draco spoke with a faint smile. ''I don't think she liked being told that she can't stop students from leaving the castle. I had expected a new rule about that instantly.''
''I suspect that some of the Board members might take issue with children being taken hostage at Hogwarts even when parents want them home for emergencies like these.''
''Oh, it wasn't so much about Weasley as you, who had no blood relation to the victim. I think it just takes time until she pushes a regulation about that through. Say, how did Weasel senior get injured?'' Harry refused to answer, glowering darkly at Draco until the other groaned. ''Seriously? You even take issue with 'weasel'? You're in a stick in the mud, Potter. That is like… the least insulting name I can come up with.'' He sighed dramatically. ''Have it your way. Weasley senior. Better?'' he asked in a highly sarcastic voice.
''Better. Mr Weasley was… let's say, at the wrong place at the wrong time. Nagini hadn't even meant to attack him, but as soon as he saw a twelve-feet long snake slithering up to him in the middle of the night, of course he drew his wand. She registered it as a threat and retaliated.''
The blond clacked his tongue. ''How did you get away with saving him? I do suppose it was your hero-complex and love for that family that got him to the hospital in time? I can't imagine the Dark Lord was pleased about you getting jitters about offing his enemies.''
''It wasn't my doing. Sure, I intended to save Mr Weasley, but he'd already gotten help even before I had the chance to tell Dumbledore about the vision I had.''
''Why do you still insist on never really taking a side?'' Draco interrupted before Harry could continue. ''You follow the Dark Lord, you promote and practise dark magic, you oppose Dumbledore… yet you still refuse to cut ties with your buddies on the light side? I don't get how you do it. Do you think Weasley and Granger are gong to be thankful when they find out that you've lied to them for two years? Or that Weasley Senior will understand why you saved his life when you at the same time helped the Dark Lord?''
The words cut deep in a part of Harry's morality that he usually pushed aside. ''I know they won't be likely to forgive me,'' he admitted, staring at the ground. ''If it comes out what I did, they'll likely break off contact with me and feel betrayed, I know that. However, I can't shut off my feelings. I continue care for them, want them around, enjoy our friendship. Ron and Hermione especially, and also my other dorm mates or Cedric… they're great people whom I want to help and protect. It is frustrating to know that the chances are slim that they'll end up fighting for what I believe in now as well, but I'm still going to try. Look, if Voldemort would have acted the way he did in the first war, I wouldn't be here right now. It's only due to his changed attitude that I decided that his goals are worthwhile. That is also why I still have a glimmer of hope that my friends will be able to agree to those goals as well in time. That, even if they cut off contact with me for my deception, they'll still be able to cooperate in building this new society and live their lives. I'm trying to keep them alive for that, Draco.''
''If you're wrong, you might be weaponizing your enemies,'' the blond reminded him. ''The entire D.A… Dumbledore's army… they see you as their teacher and leader now, only because they don't know whom you really fight for. Only us Slytherins are aware of that. This whole group could turn on you in-'' he snapped his fingers, ''a second.''
''That risk is worth it. If they do, I at least know the weakness and strengths of each and every one of them.''
Draco nodded thoughtfully. ''True, you do know their entire repertoire by now, you're the one who trained them. So, back to the Dark Lord… you weren't punished?''
Harry gazed across the lake again now that this uncomfortable topic had been dropped, taking a few deep breaths before answering: ''Voldemort wasn't really in a great state of mind when I saw him again to return Nagini, and I was lucky that he took the explanation of me being only an observer as Mr Weasley had been taken to the hospital already, as enough of a reason to not punish me. He was also busy torturing me for something else I did,'' he grimaced. ''That might have played a role.''
With narrowed eyes, Draco mustered him. ''Full-on torture? What did you do?''
Harry strongly debated whether he'd speak about the diaries. Well, as long as he kept it vague enough… ''I found writing that described some personal details of Voldemort's past. I should have put it away but was too tempted and read all of it anyways. He found out and wasn't happy, to say the least.''
''I'd pay you good gold for those details.''
Harry laughed. ''No, no you wouldn't. While I don't regret reading it, I probably would not have if I knew the Cruciatus curse could hurt like that. It was… unlike anything I've felt before and threw my mind into disarray,'' he spoke in a small voice. ''There's a reason why it's an unforgivable curse. I wouldn't even wish it on you.''
''Not even on me? You wound me. So, how did you get to see the Dark Lord again?'' Draco's curiosity seemed to have only grown with Harry's previous non-answers. Having only a few minutes remaining, he gave a brief rundown on how he'd gotten Nagini out.
''And he believed that? Dumbledore believed that a snake would use floo powder? Is he truly senile?'' the Slytherin gasped, tears in his eyes of laughter. Harry gave a fleeting smile in return, still not entirely recovered from recalling in how much pain Nagini had been when he'd received that second vision.
''She's very intelligent, so I wouldn't put it past her to actually have done so. Dumbledore knows she is magically enhanced in some way as well, and that she communicates with Voldemort. I would have been surprised if he hadn't believed it, for he is not one to underestimate his enemies when knowing what side they're on. We have to cut our conversation short now though, there's less than five minutes left until class starts and I have to reach the greenhouses.'' Harry wasn't sure if he was happy or not about not getting to the part where he'd had to use Necromancy to save his godfather. To have the story be more coherent, he'd explained the way he'd covered up the breakout and brought Nagini to Voldemort before getting to the part of Sirius dying. Maybe it was better this way. Harry had initially wished to confide in someone about the experience, but throughout the conversation realised that he would get no new insight from Draco. On top of that, being reminded of Sirius' cold body, or the strange dimension he'd crossed over to, would not put him in a very productive state of mind for Herbology.
Shortly before they actually left, Draco amicably clapped a hand on his shoulder and spoke: ''Thank you. This was an… enlightening talk. I know where to go from here now, finally.'' Harry gave a strained smile, still unsure on whether he could believe those words. ''You still didn't reveal too much about your holidays apart from your dealings with the Dark Lord's familiar,'' Draco remarked. ''Maybe we can continue this talk another time.''
Not wanting to be seen together by teachers closer to the castle, they separated ways at the shore. It helped that Harry could take a long trip around Hogwarts to arrive at the greenhouses, whereas Draco headed inside. During the class, he felt distracted after all, thoughts constantly drifting off to mull over the previous conversation. Had some of his points truly gotten through to Draco's brain and erased the damage done by his family?
Ron and Hermione obviously noticed that something was on his mind. In the evening, when they were done studying for the day, they pulled him aside in the library and asked what was wrong with concern in their voices and eyes. Harry hadn't even realised that his behaviour must have worried his friends. Finally, he confided in them that he'd had a talk with both Draco and Astoria about the bigoted beliefs many Purebloods still had. ''It boggles my mind,'' he said. ''I understand that some people have a grudge against certain Muggles who hurt them or might even be wary of others after bad experiences. It doesn't mean that generalising is right in that situation either, but I can understand. Yet I don't believe that either Draco or Astoria have even exchanged a word with a Muggle in their lives! They didn't go to a Muggle elementary school like Ron, they don't go out to shop or whatever, they don't attend Muggle gatherings… nothing. And it's been like that for generations!''
Hermione pulled a sad face. ''I asked myself the same, the first time that I was called a Mudblood. I wondered what I'd done wrong, and why they hated people like my parents so much. The conclusion I came to back then was that it was V-V-Voldemort's fault,'' she said, stumbling over the name while Ron winced. ''You know, because he gave them all such a superiority complex and used fearmongering to convince others to hate Muggles as much as he did. After talking to Viktor about it, I don't believe that it true anymore. It's too wide-spread to be the fault of one person, and seems to be a world-wide problem. I spent some time researching and found that this all starts with the very human flaw that is present in both mages and Muggles: we live in groups.''
Ron looked confused, and Harry and he exchanged a look. ''Isn't living in groups a good thing?'' he asked carefully. ''For protection and such?''
They'd been on the verge of leaving the library when the two had approached Harry, but now Hermione walked away and started pulling books off the shelves, piling them up. ''It's a shame that we don't have much Muggle history available, so here you have a sample of some things in magical society. The Goblin wars, the anti-Muggle propaganda, the disdain against house-elves, the in-House rivalry at Hogwarts, the discussions about labelling beasts and beings, the Giant extermination…'' with each issue, she added more books to the pile. ''Humans live in groups, but more than that, we stick to these groups. Take pride in them, adapt our behaviour to the people closest to us, those who are like us.
In itself, it's a useful system of survival to take care of our own bloodlines first, but it becomes problematic in a world that is so densely populated. It creates an us-versus-them scenario where people will constantly be checking for who is in their group and who is not. Or in other words, who deserves to be treated like we'd like to be treated and who does not deserve it. Family or the enemy, basically, a system that is called 'othering'. We see this pattern strewn throughout human history in pretty much every country in the world, from battling tribes and clans to colonialism. On a greater scale, those with ill intent use this to create scapegoats, de-humanise entire groups and alienate even well-meaning people. Under Grindelwald, it even led to attempted genocide. In other times and places, this horrible mechanism did lead to exactly that. And this has been done with any type of group: between ethnical groups, races, classes, genders, members of different religions, citizens of different countries… the list goes on. In a men-vs-women debate it tries to highlight behavioural differences and erases both the causes and that we're all human. In a Giant-vs-human debate it highlights cultural differences and erases that Giants are very much sentient beings.
With Muggles, it is a mixed bag of of searching an easy enemy to blame for what actually are magical issues, and a superiority complex that has been supported by those who could profit from it. You are right, Malfoy might not have spoken to a Muggle even once in his life. That only makes it easier for him to see them as some kind of other race that does not require the same rights as he has. Without contradicting proof to go against what those he trusts and loves have told him about Muggles, why wouldn't he believe his parents when they say that Muggles are the scum of the earth and deserve to die?''
''The Dursleys also had screwed up ideas, I still didn't take to any of them!'' Harry interjected, remembering his conversation with Draco where he'd made exactly this point. ''And they spouted nonsense every single day!''
Hermione gave him a strange look. ''You hated the Dursleys. They treated you horribly, of course you would try to distance yourself from their beliefs. Not to mention that you were on the receiving end of their bigotry. You weren't miraculously immune to this, Harry, the Dursleys were never part of your 'us' group. Had they treated you like family, included you in everything without any kind of emotional abuse, I can guarantee that you'd have grown up with similar views. It does not mean that you'd have held onto those forever of course, people can change, but what you believe throughout your childhood especially is often simply whatever those closest to you believe, whether that's logical or not.
It's why most religions try to include children when they're as young as possible and push for entire families going to the same place of worship. Many beliefs or rites won't make sense to an adult who didn't grow up with it and doesn't have any other people to share it with. Not without major life changes or extraordinary circumstances that suggest evidence of a certain belief being true. If my parents had told me from birth onwards that magic was real without proof, I probably would have believed it. They didn't, so I thought it was all a bogus fairy tale until I saw it with my own eyes. I was sceptical until the moment I saw Diagon Alley despite casting accidental magic a few times. That's what I mean, humans are easily imprintable by their surroundings, and it's hard to break away from that.''
''So what, Malfoy just 'can't help it' that he's a prick?'' Ron loudly asked in anger. As soon as the words had left his mouth, madam Pince flew around the corner and started yelling at them to get out of the library and clean up their mess. Ron repeated his question more quietly when they were in the corridors on their way back to Gryffindor Tower.
''Of course he can, don't twist my words,'' Hermione grumbled, irritated that they had been thrown out of the library. ''Othering is an explanation for why he initially was led to hang onto prejudice. As Harry said before however, that it is understandable does not mean that it is right or needs to be tolerated. If a belief hurts other people, it's wrong whether the person who perpetuates it could help it or not. Also, there is a difference between thinking something and acting upon it. I have no sympathy for him getting in trouble when bullying someone for being Muggle-born, that is his choice to actively harm another person. If he does not correct his views after being told how harmful they are multiple times, my sympathy also will start to run thin.''
''When I arrived at Hogwarts, I thought that this community was more accepting,'' Harry sombrely stated. ''The Dursleys may have hated me for my magic, but my peers at elementary school often only saw my darker skin and found that to be enough to distance themselves from me. Hogwarts was the first place where I saw people of all backgrounds mixing without much ado.''
Ron made a strange noise and said: ''I have to disagree with you there, mate. Just this morning, Angelina was fuming because Parkinson had once again commented on her 'worm-hair' to describe our Captain's braids. Lee told Fred and George as well that he's gotten comments like that on his dreads, which my brothers of course used to unleash hell on the bully.''
Hermione hummed in agreement. ''You're right in that it is less here, compared to a Muggle environment. My own theory is that it's due to the size of our community. There are only a couple of thousand magical people in Britain. We're already split up in groups of 'light' and 'dark', blood categories and even Hogwarts houses that everyone clings to long after school. People care more about prejudice that is tied to magical roots than 'common' bigotry. It's one more way to establish the idea that our society is so much above Muggles. The truth is, we can't afford that much infighting. Groups lose their meaning if they become too small, which is why racial equality and gender equality were achieved much faster here. Then there are also issues that stem in biological origins which don't apply to the wizarding world, such as homophobia. It's different and thus often still looked down upon, but the arguments against it are lacking when it doesn't matter for continuing family lines. As a result, there is no real institutionalised prejudice. Even for Grindelwald or Voldemort, who both followed a quite strict traditionalist view of typical Pure-blood families, that was a non-issue.''
Harry had to bite his tongue to not blurt out 'Maybe because they were both gay', but managed to hold himself in check. There was no way that he was supposed to know that, and in the case of Grindelwald it was only a rumour that Barty had hinted at and Regulus had written about. It did make him wonder if both men might have used it in their campaign if they wouldn't have been personally affected. It was a depressing thought.
That night, he dreamt of Draco standing on top of a hill, throwing coins at a wriggling mass of people below to try and hold them off. He woke up far too early and not rested at all. To have something to do, Harry grabbed the invisibility cloak and exited the common room to go for a walk. Almost instinctively, his feet led him to the tapestry of dancing trolls. Looking left and right, there was absolutely no-one to be seen on the floor. Not Filch, not Umbridge, not even the mangy cat. Staying in the Room of Requirement for a little while was probably better than hanging around in the corridors, invisible or not, so he slowly began to walk back and forth. Harry breathed in the comforting scent of wood upon entering, the fireplace flaring to life as he walked into the room that they always used for D.A. training.
It was a shame that the fireplace wasn't connected to anywhere, he thought, staring into the fire and warming his hands. They'd tried to see if it could be used to sneak out of school, to no avail. If there was any connection to specific remote places, they hadn't found it. That did not mean that Harry had absolutely no window to the outside world however. It was a long stretch that either Sirius or Barty would be up at this hour, but it was worth a try. Barty's last call had left him worried, and although Voldemort had mentioned nothing about his most loyal follower in the dream, Harry was antsy about getting an update on the situation. He'd tried to use the mirror a few times over the past days, but had received no answer. It could be that Barty had been sent on another mission and left the mirror behind again. It was frustrating to not know… Harry was mad at himself for not asking the Dark Lord when he'd had the chance.
He took the mirror carefully and studied the edge. It had never been something he'd noticed before, but the instructions that had come with Sirius' mirror had mentioned symbols appearing in the metal after a missed connection attempt. Indeed, he saw several scribbles etched into the metal, although he couldn't interpret them. Sitting down on the floor, he softly called out, seeing only darkness in the surface. Already resigned to not getting a reply once again, Harry put the mirror to the side and sighed, wondering what he was going to do with his time. It was then that a frantic voice spoke:
''You still there? Please don't say I missed out by a second! Evan? Evaaaaan!''
Harry scrambled to get a hold of the mirror again and raised it to his face with excitement. ''Barty! Merlin, it's been tough to reach you! How have you been?'' As he peered into the mirror, worry gnawed at him, seeing that the Death Eater had a bloodied lip and a few bruises.
''Don't look at me like that,'' Barty said with a faint, painful smile. ''I've been atoning for my mistakes.''
''Did Voldemort-?'' he started, irate, heart beating wildly in his chest at the rush of anger that faded only when the other quickly shook his head.
''It's not like that. He wasn't pleased with the mess I'd left and of course I did receive swift punishment, but that was only on that first day. No, you were absolutely correct, our Lord-'' he threw Harry a pointed look, most likely due to the casual use of the man's name once again, ''was instantly focused on erasing my errors.'' A few strangled noises came from the mirror that did not originate from Barty. The blond turned around and shouted ''Shut your mouth!'' over his shoulder. Then, he turned back again. ''Sorry, darn prisoner,'' he cheerfully spoke. Harry's stomach coiled uncomfortably as he realised that 'cleaning up messes' might well involve murder of people who were only marginally involved.
''Please don't tell me you are holding witnesses captive or such things,'' Harry pleaded.
Barty cocked his head. ''Alright, I'm not telling you anything then,'' he smiled innocently.
''No, I'm serious,'' he pushed, growing agitated. ''Voldemort said 'no unnecessary violence. Are you imprisoning innocent people?''
A few seconds ticked by as the stared at each other. ''The definition of unnecessary can be stretched,'' Barty finally spoke, all smiles gone now, from his mouth as well as his eyes. ''I'm not going back to Azkaban, I'm not taking any risk that would put me back in there, Evan.'' His breath quickened. ''Do you want to throw me back in prison?'' he accused.
''No! No, of course not! I just don't understand why you'd have to bring prisoners to Voldemort's place, because I highly doubt they're there for a memory wipe!''
''I don't have time to explain,'' Barty harshly cut him off. ''It's a long, long story that you don't have enough details on to judge. The man I took with me to interrogate is not innocent by the way, and would have me thrown in prison in a heartbeat. Not to do the right thing, but to have leverage so he won't be persecuted himself. Even if that was not the case though, I have our Lord's permission, and his word is law. Understand?'' he growled, a feverish light in Barty's eyes.
Harry swallowed down a biting reply. ''I understand,'' he reluctantly answered. If he wanted to argue about it, it was far more productive to take it up with Voldemort himself, as he was ironically more willing to listen to suggestions for change than Barty was. ''I'm happy that you are safe, truly,'' he added.
''Thank you. Hey, how's Black doing?''
The question came so out of the blue that Harry had to process it for a second. ''Err… good. Alive and well. Why?'' he replied, bewildered. This was already the second time that Barty asked about Sirius… he hadn't realised that the two had gotten along so well. They'd only really met that evening during the Yule ritual…
Barty nodded thoughtfully. ''He hasn't dropped by. I thought he'd want to visit to get some fresh air as he was promised as a sign of goodwill.'' It sounded almost offended.
''I don't think he can 'drop by' as you say,'' Harry frowned. ''I mean, many Order members are worried about Sirius' mental health and him possibly being spotted when outside. Dumbledore 'advised' Sirius to stay inside. Aside from that, there's no floo connection to Riddle house, apparition into that dimension isn't possible by anyone but Voldemort himself and he doesn't know enough about the location or entrance to show up at the Muggle side of Little Hangleton either. I took my godfather with me when activating the Portkey to get through the wards the last time, which is obviously not an option now that I am at Hogwarts. I can't even use the Portkey when here due to the damned wards here.'' Just in case, he'd tried it once in the Room of Requirement, hoping that it may have its own type of magic, but hadn't had any luck.
The other grunted unhappily. ''Shame. Maybe you can bring him along during the Easter holidays.'' Before Harry had a chance to inquire about it further, another strangled cry was to be heard. Barty sighed heavily and looked over his shoulder once again. ''I have to leave now, was great to see you kid. Work hard, get good grades, take over Hogwarts, the works,'' he smiled. ''You'll do us all proud.''
Harry tried to get a word in to say 'Bye', but the mirror turned blank already. What the hell had all that been about? Until breakfast, he used the room to clear his head a bit, practising the next spells he wanted to show the D.A.
The rest of January felt simultaneously like it flew by and as if it lasted two years instead of two weeks. Every minute of every day was filled with activities, from regular classes and homework to remedial potions and D.A. sessions. Harry and Ron used the early morning hours once to continue their Animagus training despite Ron's worries that the random storms that would hit Hogwarts as a result might interrupt Quidditch training. Sirius' confession to having simply watered the potion down to get enough during the brewing period had not eased Harry's mind in the slightest about maybe finishing the vial before managing the transformation. The Locket-Horcrux, who had helped with the potion's creation, was not here now either to iron out any mistakes Harry might overlook. If they messed up, they'd have to start all over again. It was not a very productive thought, which probably accounted for why it aggressively cemented itself in his brain anyways.
Even at night he hardly got any rest now. Voldemort kept his word about trying to be more available at night. Any attempt at conversing about personal topics was cut off however, in favour of overloading Harry with theoretical in-depth knowledge on areas he'd neglected before, from history of magic to the laws of transfiguration. Admittedly, the goblin wars had never been more interesting than when spoken about animatedly by a Dark Lord who was clearly invested in the topic of war and the political backdrop of those time periods. Still, things that Harry really wanted to talk about – from what had happened to the plans of promoting Barty to what Voldemort thought Dumbledore was up to – were glossed over. It was clear that the man did not look favourably on Harry's attempts to distract from the tutoring sessions.
Harry let it go only because he was impossibly stressed about passing his O.W.L.'s when half of the teachers at Hogwarts were incompetent. Even with those he really liked such as Hagrid, he had to silently admit that the Half-Giant's forte lay elsewhere than choosing subject matter or constructively preparing them for exams, instead usually rattling off fun facts about the creatures he brought and making them all pet and feed them. At least they hadn't been shown anything dangerous anymore since Hagrid had been put on probation, but class was far more tense as Umbridge and her blasted clipboard attended every single Care of Magical Creatures lesson now as well. Harry hated seeing her ugly face so much, which wore a constant smug look. She was present at all meals, walked the corridors, interrupted both Care and Divination, and on top of that, they were forced to actually watch her speak during the most useless Defence classes they'd ever had. Lockhart's teaching had been disastrous as well, but he'd at least been a tad funny and jovial before being revealed as the fraud he was.
During the very brief periods of time that weren't already crammed with education, Harry tried his best to maintain social contacts, mainly with members of the D.A. He spent quality time with Ron and Hermione, now and then chatted with Draco so he could keep an eye on the Slytherin and spent one evening in 'Broc Abode' next to the Hufflepuff common room with Cedric and Cho for an after-dinner chat. It was nice to set foot again in the pleasant not-quite-common-room and he fondly remembered the times when the Champion parties had been held there.
On the last day of January, a Wednesday that should have been just like any other day, Umbridge's self-righteous expression was at last wiped from her face, replaced by trembling lips and splotched cheeks as her Daily Prophet arrived. Harry thoroughly enjoyed the moment, ignoring the whispers around the table and Ron tugging at his sleeve. One blessed minute long, his entire body felt ablaze with rebellious joy. Then, Hermione's voice pulled him back to reality as she shoved the newspaper in his face and excitedly asked: ''When did you have time for this?''
He took the paper from her and stared at the caption:
'Another cover-up revealed! Another Champion speaks out!
Harry Potter sympathises with tragic fates of Muggle-borns'
Below it was a picture of his face. Wait, when did Voldemort get a picture of his face? The interview had taken place in a dream!
The chatter around him became louder, so he decided to skim the front page before he'd get bombarded by questions or Umbridge would shut the noise down.
The new generation of witches and wizards leave no stone unturned. After Miss Delacour rallied for creature justice and Mr Diggory helped bring the secrets of our health system to light, we sought out the youngest Triwizard Champion to see what causes he supports. Despite being only fifteen years old, the Potter sensation already has a number of incredible feats to his name-
Harry broke off there and read a few words back, hoping he'd misread. 'The Potter sensation', he mouthed back at the paper, horrified. What the hell was this punishment for?
-incredible feats to his name. As our avid readers are undoubtedly aware of, Mr Potter uncovered the fraud Gilderoy Lockhart, defeated a Basilisk and captured long-thought-dead Peter Pettigrew, all before becoming a Triwizard Tournament Champion. Last year, we were horrified to read glimpses of his tragic childhood, which undoubtedly sparked his compassion for those with similar fates: other magical children raised by Muggles.
As often as the topic of Muggles raising mages has come up, just as often is it waved away. The general stance of the Ministry so far has been that only blood-relatives can truly raise a child well. But is this true? New evidence suggests it may not always be the best option to leave a magical child with their unknowing family until the age of eleven. During the Christmas holidays, we spoke with Mr Potter about his personal experiences, and he shared not only his own story, but also alluded to other cases of mistreatment he has been made aware of for magical children in Muggle homes.
Naturally, it was our civic duty to research this. During the past month, we have uncovered previously unpublished articles and information about lawsuits about this exact topic that were hushed up by European magical ministries. Evidence suggests that some Muggle-borns and Half-bloods have even had their memory wiped before being placed with a magical home when authorities finally discovered their horrid home life. The parents or guardians were left to Muggle authorities, naturally unable to be convicted of any crime with both the child in question and memories of said child gone.
Mr Potter did stress that he does not generally condemn Muggles raising magical children. In his words: ''I know of cases in which this worked out well too. One of my best friends is a Muggle-born witch and her parents are great. I wish to mainly raise awareness for how the current system fails those less fortunate. To shed light on how the Ministry once again covers up things to save face. They are so caught up in pleasing everyone and not taking responsibility that Muggles are not informed for eleven years, get no guidance, and no retribution even after discovery of abuse. This cannot continue.''
Read more:
Harry Potter's home life: page 2
Uncovered stories on child abuse: page 3 to 8. Parental discretion advised, may be unsuitable for young children.
Full interview: page 9 to 12
Honestly, Harry was shocked by that exactly those lines about him blaming the Ministry rather than Muggles had made the front page verbatim instead of being stowed away somewhere on the last pages. He had tried multiple times to get that point across to Voldemort, but hadn't thought that the stubborn man had actually listened. Harry supposed that it did make the entire story more believable as coming from him.
Leafing through the rest of the paper briefly, he already knew what he'd see: Grainy pictures of broken children looking into the camera, barely moving. A photo of the only article that had ever been published in a small Russian newspaper, accompanied by a translation. Letters with blackmail and bribes to shut up the journalists who'd researched this matter and the fine they had received two years ago. Many more unpublished articles and accounts of people speaking out. It looked like Voldemort had indeed gathered new material too in the past months. There were stories that Harry did not recognise reading before. Too many.
That wasn't going to be all, the Dark Lord surely had several up his sleeve to publish in later newspaper issues. As far as he could see when flying over the stories, there was no mention of the cases that the British Ministry of Magic had been involved in, such as the statement of denial when those journalists had found two Muggleborn children in Suffolk and Cornwall nine years back. Maybe Voldemort hadn't instantly wanted to piss off the British Ministry specifically.
He looked up, met by the impatient, curious faces of his house mates. Peering over Hermione's shoulder, he saw that many heads on the other tables were turned towards him as well. Cedric gave a brief salute and a nod, upon which the Headboy was instantly the centre of attention at the Hufflepuff table. Cedric looked a bit taken aback. While he had been a spokesperson too for the Daily Prophet, his article had not nearly been as aggressive. The Hufflepuff had spoken out about trying to take better care of the ill and called for improved funding to St. Mungo's. Only afterwards had the Prophet dropped a lot of bombshells about statistics having been faked, found cures not being released etcetera. As a result, Cedric hadn't stood much in the spotlight.
Harry disliked being cast in the victim role again and could see Parkinson's imitation of fake crying and her smirk from a mile away. This was not going to be pleasant. Whether peers would try to express sympathy or poke fun at him, it would mean unwanted attention. Voldemort had been right though: his fame gave the article more power than if this would have been published without his name in the title. It was for a good cause, he reminded himself.
''Hem Hem,''
Keeping that reminder in the back of his head became suddenly very difficult as he turned sideways and peeked over his shoulder to where Umbridge stood. Her face was still an ugly shade of pink that matched the rest of her robes. Harry's feel of victory faded as he saw her strained smile. ''Mr Potter. To my office,'' she commanded. The teen glanced over to the Head table, where some other teachers threw them concerned looks. They did not have the power to stop her, not even Dumbledore did anymore. Harry wondered if he imagined that the usually twinkling blue eyes looked infinitely sad behind their half-moon spectacles. He must have. Dumbledore put him with the Dursleys in the first place and had never believed his words pointing towards a less-than ideal treatment, even after Mrs Weasley had tried to speak up about it on Harry's behalf shortly after Ron and the Twins had broken Harry out of Privet Drive.
It was something he'd asked Voldemort to keep out of the interview and articles after careful deliberation. They could not focus on pointing blame at Dumbledore for Harry's specific situation as well as condemn the Ministry in one go. It was telling that out of the both of them, it was the teenager that had to point this out. Voldemort had agreed only after a few too many sneers.
Harry felt like he was growing up too fast, not even because of war or loss, but because he had an immature Dark Lord at his hands that he somehow felt compelled to take care of, and not in the way that the majority of the wizarding world wanted Harry to take care of him. Even as he was marching to his doom behind Umbridge's swishy pink robes, the thought brought a small smile to his face, which turned into a smirk as he imagined a few other ways to 'take care' of the stoic man.
''Do you think this is funny?'' Umbridge snapped in a high-pitched voice as she caught his expression. She primly pointed a finger at her office door. ''Inside!''
Resigned, Harry sat down on what had quickly become his least favourite chair in the entire castle, right in front of Umbridge's desk. Dread overtook him as he saw that the blood quill was already lying in position. ''I was unaware of that talking to the press is a crime,'' he tried. ''During my holidays even. Free time.'' Would she so obviously break the law herself? The woman's hands trembled as she sat down in her own chair, fingers steepled together firmly, perhaps in an attempt stop the twitching.
She stared at him for a good while until she had better control over herself again. With dramatic flair, she took the Prophet out of her pocket and shook the paper out, laying it flat on her desk. Interestingly enough, it was not the title page that she had placed in front of her. ''A cupboard under the stairs,'' she scoffed, followed by a ridiculing, girlish laugh. ''Bars on the windows. A cat flap on the door. Soup for you and your owl for weeks.'' With each word, she sounded more condescending. ''All which you claim the Ministry overlooked.'' She placed a stubby finger on the paper and leaned forwards over the desk. ''How dare you tell such lies again. Our system of supervision is perfect, even the school should have noticed if you lived in a cupboard. Did you know that the Hogwarts envelopes are automatically addressed to which room you sleep in, Mr Potter?''
''Yes, it said cupboard under the stairs,'' Harry flat-out told her, knowing it was useless. He still jumped when she slammed a flat hand on the desk.
''You good-for-nothing…! Where is the proof!''
Now Harry finally did get worked up by her ridiculous accusations. ''Proof? What, do you expect everyone to keep the envelope of the acceptance letter they got in their first year? That was over four years ago! Where is the proof that it didn't say that? Because yeah, letters are addressed automatically, and that's the problem! No-one checks them manually, do they? If that was the case, then maybe such things would get picked up!''
Silence followed, but Harry did not get the impression that it was the kind of silence used for contemplation. In fact, he'd be surprised if she registered a word he said.
''No more Hogsmeade weekends for you, Mr. Potter,'' she whispered, almost stumbling over her own words as they rushed out of her mouth. ''You get in too much trouble outside of the castle. Furthermore, fifty points from Gryffindor for spreading lies and chaos. Oh, and another week of detentions to curb your enthusiasm over succeeding in your little stunt.'' She decided, nodding along with her own words frantically.
Harry just shook his head in disbelief and astonishment. ''You always only hear what you want to hear, don't you?'' he asked.
''Your detention starts now,'' was her only, snarled reply to that. ''I must not tell lies. Until it sinks in.''
With a look filled with loathing, Harry picked up the quill and started to write, clenching his jaw as the skin was once again torn open and healed, over and over until it didn't heal anymore. During those hours of torment, Umbridge was frantically writing too, a bunch of letters in pink envelopes that were all sealed and put into a pile. Harry would have given anything to know who she was writing that bunch to. Was Umbridge contacting the Ministry? Trying to do damage control? Beyond the windows, the sky had turned pitch-black by the time that the evil witch finally signed for him to stop. Snape would probably lynch him for missing remedial potions this evening... even if hadn't been by Harry's choice.
''Let me have a look,'' she spoke, all sweet smiles again. She grasped his hand painfully, digging in her nails in the wound for good measure before putting her wand to it. She looked down, and only when Harry saw her smile make way for a frown, did he realise that something was wrong. Umbridge held his right hand. His not-quite-human-anymore hand. As not a single soul had noticed the difference in three months, not even his friends, Harry had slowly gotten more careless. After all, the difference was marginal as long as people didn't hold it up to their face… like Umbridge was doing right now. ''What is this?'' she sharply asked. ''What happened to your hand?''
Mind racing, Harry plucked out the first explanation that his brain provided. ''I had detentions so often here that my hand changed,'' he lied through his teeth while looking down at the red 'I must not tell lies'. From the woman's dark look, she didn't believe a word of it. ''It's like scars,'' he tried to explain as if speaking to a two-year-old. ''The more damaged skin gets, the stronger it heals over,'' he spoke, thinking of some facts he'd read when looking into healing. ''It's a natural reaction to prevent further damage. As a result of the cu- spell on this quill, my whole hand strengthened.'' For good measure he added rebelliously: ''That's what happens when people try to break something down. It always comes back stronger.''
''Down to your nails?'' she hissed, gripping his index finger and bending it backwards painfully. ''Very likely. No… no, you are hiding something from me. Whatever you have done, I will get you for it.'' Suddenly, she released him and got up from her chair. ''I'll be back in five minutes with an expert. Be a good boy and stay exactly in that spot. Otherwise, you'll have one more problem.''
She swept out of the room after that threat, leaving Harry frantically wondering who she would come back with. Dumbledore and Snape might both recognise what had happened to his arm, but not tell Umbridge if he was lucky. Madame Pomfrey perhaps wouldn't instantly know what was going on as she did not have as much experience with dark magic. However, she had seen his arm in its previous state and declared that it couldn't be saved with regular healing. Plus, Harry was not entirely sure where her loyalties lay. She'd insulted Umbridge before, but her oath as a school nurse might compel Madame Pomfrey to tell her findings when asked directly by the Hogwarts High Inquisitor. If Umbridge instead came back with a different Healer or curse expert whom Harry didn't know at all… he didn't want to think of what could happen.
After a minute of fretting, Harry tried to calm himself down as he realised that one way or the other, it was out of his hands now. His eye fell on the pile of envelopes that he'd been so curious about before. Hesitantly, he glanced at the tacky pictures of cats on the walls. Were these sentient in any way? Could they communicate with Umbridge? To not be too obvious, he stood and paced back and forth a bit as if needing to only stretch his legs. Then, he leaned down and cast a glance at the envelopes. The topmost address read:
David James Noctua
Daily Prophet Ltd.
56 Diagon Alley
London
Harry stared at it for a couple of seconds for a few reasons. Umbridge tried to directly write her complaint to the Head Editor of the newspaper? Did she think that he hadn't seen the article or something? Surely the Daily Prophet had a complaint department. On the other hand, it was really typically Umbridge that she'd instantly stomp to the highest person in charge whom she could find instead of dealing with lowly subordinates. Her status as Hogwarts High Inquisitor and Senior Undersecretary of the Minister for Magic fed into her belief that she was exempt from normal rules.
Secondly, was the middle name of Voldemort's fake persona seriously James? Talk about irony.
He tried to see if he could read the address of the envelope below it, but like a real neat-freak, Umbridge had stacked them meticulously on top of each other, not even an edge poking out from below. No chance there… Harry sat back on his chair, just in time as well as suddenly, he heard footsteps and the door opened not a few seconds after. He wasn't sure if a sigh of relief was in order yet when madame Pomfrey stepped over the threshold. She didn't look happy in the slightest.
''What did you do this time, Potter,'' she barked, stalking over. The way she grasped his arm was soft however, and he could see real concern in her eyes as she knelt down. She turned his hand over and her eyebrows almost shot to her hairline. ''Well, something is definitely wrong with it,'' she pointed out, looking at Umbridge over her shoulder. ''It's all bloody, for one.''
''Then wipe that away,'' Umbridge impatiently spoke as if she hadn't been caught inflicting wounds on students by a Healer. ''What I care about is what he has done to his arm. It doesn't look normal.''
Harry pressed his lips together to prevent himself from blurting out anything. Let Pomfrey draw her own conclusions. The witch grabbed her wand and cleaned up the blood with a spell first, healed the wound and only then turned her attention to what Umbridge wanted. In the candlelight, the teen could see her badly-concealed shock as she inspected his hand. She tapped on the nails, measured the length of his palm and stroked over the stubble at the base of his wrist where he'd shaven the coarse hair away.
''Hmmm,'' was her only comment after a few minutes. She pushed back his sleeve and tapped on the skin. ''Hmmmmmm.''
''Well?'' came the agitated question. Madame Pomfrey closed her eyes briefly, took a deep breath and stood up to face Umbridge.
''It looks to be cursed, as if something dark simmers beneath his skin. One moment…'' she waved her wand far more dramatically than she was known for. ''Inprecatio Indagato!'' she shouted, making a complex loop-movement around his arm. A sizzling stream of magic appeared in the air, blue and purple like a bruise. It curled around in the air, then connected with the blood-quill that was still on the desk.
''It appears,'' Madame Pomfrey spoke with a disapproving tone in her voice, ''that the origin is that quill over there. You might want to get that checked out for possible curses, Dolores. It's festering under Mr. Potter's skin, changing his biological make-up.'' She pinned the woman with a look.
Umbridge was not satisfied with this explanation, planting her hands in her hips. ''Surely,'' she said with a sweet smile. ''There must be another cause? Otherwise, several students would…'' she trailed off, leaving the implications hanging in the air without explicitly stating that she'd used a blood-quill more often. Her preferred form of punishment was known throughout Hogwarts, but that wouldn't mean that she would openly admit resorting to dark artefacts in front of other adults who might have the means to record a confession.
Slow seconds ticked by as Madame Pomfrey calmly put her wand away. ''Mr Potter already has a curse scar on his forehead, that possibly alters the way his body handles other dark magic trying to affect him,'' the nurse countered. Now Harry knew that she was lying as much as Harry was. At first, he thought that madame Pomfrey had simply drawn the wrong conclusion, yet if that had been the case, the woman would have considered other causes as well instead of blatantly grasping in the dark for an explanation that sounded logical. ''Naturally,'' she continued, ''I will take Mr Potter to the hospital wing for a few more tests with potions and other tools I have at my disposal there. If I find different results, I shall inform you straight away.''
Harry tried to not look comically back and forth between the two women. Both had a completely relaxed smile on their faces and the hardest glare he'd ever seen. ''I expect your report tomorrow morning,'' Umbridge smiled, knowing she'd lost, even if she wasn't sure how badly. Exceptionally relieved, Harry gathered his things when ordered to and followed closely behind the school nurse. The witch slowed down her pace a bit in the corridors so they were walking side-by-side.
''Can I go now?'' Harry hesitantly asked, flinching when pinned by another stern look. No further words needed to be spoken, they reached the hospital wing a few minutes later. It was completely empty, the lack of Quidditch games in January likely accounting for that.
He sat down on one of the beds while Madame Pomfrey summoned a stool to sit on. Once again, she rolled up his sleeve, now inspecting it for longer and tracing the line across his elbow where the flesh merged. ''Where on earth,'' she started with a tremble in her voice, ''did you get someone to attach a centaur arm to you, Potter?''
Members of his Hand of Magic shouted back and forth in excitement when he swept down the street. A few seconds ago, Voldemort had completed an exceptional piece of work, temporary spherical wards that encased the single house he'd wanted to cut off from the outside world. It was closer to a mansion, perched on the side of a hill and looking out over the Mediterranean Sea. Rage bubbled up in him as he looked at it. From inside the sphere, he and his followers could see the well-lit street of this Muggle town stretch to the left and right while hearing the sea roar as waves crashed into the harbour behind them. From the other side, none could notice them. He let his gaze drift over the scenery once more. A picturesque town straight from a Muggle travel guide, where the rich dwelled in their summer homes. Yet even the richest Muggles did not provide basic necessities for their children if they were magical, it turned out.
The issues of the Daily Prophet and Nouvelles du Monde Magique that had been printed yesterday evening had not covered even a fraction of the real problem. He'd mostly recycled stories that had been unpublished and which were years old, stories he'd had his hands on already before taking control of the papers, more than half a year ago. He'd let everyone believe that his reporters had only found those this very month, which would lead the Ministry to believe that he'd only been able to find isolated cases. Let them scramble to come up with explanations and try to deny still having a problem. He was already five steps ahead. There was a reason for why he'd let Lucius handle most business with the magical creatures they'd saved, and why Barty had taken over the hospital project. Voldemort had been busy for months, scouting all over Europe for current cases of magical children that needed saving. Muggle-borns, Half-bloods, even one orphaned Pureblood that no extended family had known about as it had been a result of an affair. Before anyone could react, the hand of Magic would start uncovering these cases one by one, 'inform' the press with evidence and punish the Muggles responsible instead of waiting for official justice.
He'd been conflicted about how much to get involved personally. Back when Séraphine Delacour had expressed her sadness over the fate of her people, he'd had no compassion to give. Now as well, he did not emotionally care about the children who'd been harmed. However, it was not entirely out of principle that he wished to save them either. A deep-seeded hatred against Muggles and a desire for vengeance drove him to tirelessly work on this project. Each time they found a new target, Voldemort was reminded of his own childhood at the orphanage, especially of the various expressions Mrs Cole and several teachers had given him. Fear, disgust, hatred… He'd never had the chance to burn down the orphanage behind him. It had caught fire by itself when he'd been working at Borgin and Burkes, as he'd found out many years later. None had died, unfortunately.
A small part of him also kept being reminded of that Harry's abusers were very much alive as well. He'd laid eyes on them once, and that had really been one time too many. It had taken an astonishing amount of self-control to not fill the hallway with their innards for what he knew they'd done. He'd almost given in when they had insulted their nephew in his presence. Yes, maybe part of this was also for Harry.
He signalled for his followers to surround the large building and head in. He himself went straight for the front door and cast a Bombarda on it for good measure. The door cracked, the glass around it splintered and the floor quaked under the force of the spell. Voldemort smiled darkly as he heard screams coming from upstairs.
''Let's see what the Italian Ministry will do when we drop off this child in front of their doorstep with two dead Muggles and some convincing pictures,'' he muttered, heading straight for the stairs. It was time for blood.
AN: I realised that I never explained very much about ow the Hand of Magic operates. They have a lot of overlap with the Death Eaters, but aren't quite the same. Voldemort runs both organisations separately, although quite a few Death Eaters like Lucius and Barty joined both. While practically all Death Eaters are British and know they answer to the Dark Lord, the Hand of Magic focuses on recruiting members from mainland Europe, many of whom consider themselves vigilantes and rebels without knowing who exactly leads them. There are a few splinter cells, and only the cell leaders know who is really in charge for now. Whenever Voldemort goes on a mission himself, he is only joined by the upper rang who is 'in the know'. Voldemort's plan is to operate it like this for as long as he can still stay in the shadows as the government does not believe he has returned.
Also, I realise that detentions for another week, no Hogsmeade visits for the rest of the year AND 50 points is pretty extreme even for Umbridge, but that's actually his canon punishment for the Quibbler article so I went with it anyways. *helpless shrug*
Please read and review! Next up, a thorough grilling by Pomfrey and some new Decrees...