CHAPTER 55: Year's End (Part 4)

Hogwarts Corridor

June 6th, 1994

3:45 p.m.

In the past two years, he'd celebrated his final week at the castle. Could even feel his muscles slowly begin to relax as the notion that he was finally leaving the castle turned more solid with the hour. And this year was no different. He could practically feel it, the freedom from his year-long cage as he wouldn't have to deal with psychotic house-mates or cursed diaries, being able to feel anything other than despair whenever he was away from the safety of his bed.

The dementors had surpassed anything he'd faced up until now. Their constant torment had managed to make the likes of Montague and even a younger Voldemort somewhat tame. All the nightmares that had haunted him before felt like a distant memory, the petulant whines of a snobbish, entitled child complaining about how hard his life had been. He could still feel the cut Montague gave him with every move he made, even sense Tom's presence in the back of his mind as his voice whispered it futile commands. But he'd much rather go through either of those experiences again than to stay another year in a dementor-filled Hogwarts.

Sirius bloody Black. The bastard simply had to escape, hadn't he. It hadn't been enough for the man to be the one that led the Death Eaters to his parent's home, who had joined them in all their various acts of torture before he was the one to murder them himself. No. He had to escape. Had to bring the hell-spawn that were meant to guard his cell straight to Hogwarts, as he watched from the sidelines how they haunted him across every corner of the castle.

He'd lost count of how many times they'd attacked him, but every time they did, the memory of his parent's murder became a little clearer, a little longer. Like a twisted jigsaw puzzle he was forced to complete to perfection, he began piecing the broken memories together. Began grasping every event of those two full days of torture as he witnessed every unspeakable act the Death Eaters did until Aurors began tearing at the wards and breach into the cottage. And just when he thought it was over, Sirius Black stepped forward and killed the two of them himself, before running out of the room and fighting the Aurors as he was forced to stay behind his wooden cell and watch the corpses of his parents.

The dementors were relentless, chasing him around, even as the teachers continued trying to stop their attacks. Their attempts to involve the Ministry were feeble without Dumbledore's help, and it didn't matter which older student they forced to shadow him, they would eventually ditch them or suffer the same fate as he did when the dementors caught up with him. Even during some of the occasions when the teachers personally escorted him around the castle, the dementors overpowered them as well as they began to huddle in larger packs.

Not that Lupin could ever be bothered, not that he responded to his pleas for help, as he all but sobbed all over his floor and threw himself on his knees. McGonagall and Sinistra had offered their help a few weeks after he tried to get Lupin to do it, and while they did as much as they could, while they devoted hours of their day to him and his learning of the spell, it didn't work. Months of sleepless nights as he worked on the spell, tried to grasp its theoretical complexity, to push out enough power, to come up with the right memory.

But it was all for nothing, an idiotic attempt that never panned out. All his work for nothing, not even the slightest shred of silvery mist leaving his wand, even as he tried and tried to the point of magical exhaustion. The two urged him to kept going, but he could see the hopelessness of the situation reflected in their eyes. Even after he quit going to their private sessions the previous month, they kept insisting he didn't give up.

But if Hogwarts had taught him anything, it was that sometimes you couldn't win. Sometimes, the best thing to do - the only thing to do - is to endure. To push through and endure as much as he could, endure until it was over. That was the only way to survive in a shithole like this.

By next year, Dumbledore should return to the castle and the dementors should be sleeping tight in Azkaban. By next year, it should all be over… until whatever magical fuck-up decided to rear its head in the castle and turn its attention to him. But whatever came next couldn't possibly be worse than the dementors. Whatever came next… he'd make sure he came out the other way victorious.

"You've done it!" A muffle voice exclaimed on the other side of the wall. It was barely a whisper to him, but he could practically hear it as loud as any scream. Harry abruptly stopped, feeling his blood boiling at the very voice. Drawing his wand, he crept closer along the corridor before arriving at the door. "God, it's brilliant, Neville!"

"Thank you, Professor Lupin." Longbottom simpered, his voice somehow even more infuriating than Lupin's.

Fucking Longbottom. The bastard brat, Hogwarts' golden boy. Oh, poor Neville. Oh, heroic Neville. Oh, he's a dream. Our saviour. The most perfect boy ever. He'll save us from Sirius Black. He'll push out all the dementors from Hogwarts with a single spell. What had he ever done? Since when did being an orphan become a fucking novelty? The smarmy twat walking around the halls as if he's better than everyone else, acting coy and shy when everyone praised him for how gorgeous his fucking farts sounded.

His eyes were drawn to the door as his feet stuck on the ground. His heart began hammering in his chest, and any thoughts of going about his merry fucking way quickly left him. Even from the door, the voices felt far away. His suspicions were proved to be true as he knelt on the floor and saw no shadows under the door. In a stupid, rushed move, Harry put his hand on the knob and turned it slowly, opening the door so a tiny, barely noticeable gap opened.

And there, as if swimming mid-air around Lupin and Longbottom, was a shinning, silvery turtle. The voices faded to the background as he stared, mouth agape, at the majestic Patronus in front of him. There was something oddly comforting about it. The mere act of looking at it, being in its presence, it gave Harry a feeling he hadn't felt in nearly three years.

Calm.

He just stared, basking in its presence as he felt himself fully relax, as for a single moment, he almost smiled. But then, as if whatever cruel God was watching, it vanished. Painfully slowly, he watched as every inch of silver disappeared before he was left with that sinking, unending void he'd gotten used to living with. And with it, any sense of calm or peace taken from him as well.

"That's remarkable, Neville," Lupin clapped the boy in the back with a proud smile, one that sent his blood boiling once more. "Well done."

His hands were shaken, he could almost feel his soul trying to rip itself out of his body. Yelling at him, commanding him to run into the room and jump on the two of them before he started beating them. To hear those sweet sounds of agony as his fists bled red and his very ringers cracked until the two stopped speaking, stopped breathing. The hatred he felt, the torture his parent's endured, would have been nothing compared to what his body was aching to do to them.

"Thank you, Professor Lupin," Neville said with the brightest smile he'd ever seen. "Thank you so much!"

Grimmauld Place

December 31st, 1995

10:50 p.m.

"So that's why Sirius is so pissed at you," Regulus barked a laugh from the darkness of the room. The torches were dim, and while he could see Regulus' general figure, his face remained obscured by the darkness.

Harry sat on the floor of his cell, Mrs Weasley's plate rid of any food or even crumbs to the point it almost looked clean. Regulus hadn't taken long after her departure to mock him for being too weak to keep up his promise. "Whatever happened to not eating until you starve to death?" It was a reminded Harry ignored as he moved the subject away from the food or Mrs Weasley.

Of course, Regulus being Regulus, it hadn't taken long for him to go back to the original topic. His interest on Sirius and his relationship with the man was deep, it was becoming hard to speak to Regulus without his brother's name being introduced into the conversation. But beggars can't be choosers, and given how badly he needed a distraction from everything, he had finally acquiesced to his new friend's demands.

"Severus, our mother, our father, myself. I never thought Sirius would ever hate anyone as much as he hated the four of us. You truly have surpassed my expectations, Mister Potter. Cold man you are, I must say. And I mean this in the best way possible."

"Thanks," Harry said dryly. Even a year and a half after everything, he could remember that day perfectly. Remember the anger that overtook him, the ruthless way in which he enacted his revenge for what most would consider pettiness and jealousy. It was a nice surprise to realise that even after that's what put him in this cell, he didn't regret that day.

Not one bit.

"You should be proud of yourself, I've never met no one of your age who managed to blackmail and outsmart a professor to the point they humiliated themselves in that way. And then to just go back on your promise to expose him like that without any repercussions? Cold," he smiled, before making a motion of wiping away tears. "I've never been prouder of being a Slytherin."

"You're taking too much joy out of this."

"As I should. Do you have any idea how many people my brother, Lupin, and his friends pranked during their time at school? Entitled arseholes, they were-"

"That's my father you're speaking of," Harry snapped.

"A father's a father, kid, I respect that. That doesn't change the fact he was a major arse in his youth." Regulus stopped, and even if he couldn't see him, Harry felt him drop his smile. "By the end… he grew up, I'll give him that. We had our differences, major differences, but even after hating him for years… I can't say he was a good man.

"Sounds like you knew him," Harry said as he leaned forwards. "After Hogwarts, I mean."

"I did. Spent a lot of time around him and Sirius, too. Sirius never stopped being a pain in my arse, but your father. He knew when to leave his immature prankster performance behind, began to take life seriously and leave behind dumb rivalries. Sirius too, to an extent, but a part of Sirius will never stop seeing the world as black and white. Will never dare to imagine there are shades of gray in everyone. I think that's why he and your father started drifting apart in their last year together."

"Sirius' an idiot," Harry spat. "Fucking entitled twat,"

"That he is," Regulus said, the faint hint of amusement in his voice was quickly snuffed out. "He was telling the truth, you know. When he said he didn't betray your parents. It wasn't him."

"It was him," Harry gritted out. "Do not presume to speak of things you know nothing about."

"Harry, it wasn't-"

"It was!" Harry roared. "I saw him. I watched as he tortured my parents. Over and over again for days on end before he murdered them. Watched his wretched smile as he did so, I've seen it every night for nearly two years now!"

"What you saw was wrong. It was a lie, a misdirection to frame Sirius. One that unfortunately worked."

"Just because he's your brother-"

"I'm not saying this because he's my brother." Regulus suddenly snapped. "For years, I saw him and your father interact. Saw that blind, foolish devotion he had for him. And even at the end, even in their worst moment, he was closer with James than he ever was with me. His own flesh and blood. Sirius would have never betrayed your father, not for all the riches and all the titles in the worth. He would have sooner left me to rot than betrayed your father."

"Then who did? If you claim to know so much about what happened, surely you should know who betrayed my parents." The fire crackled as the wind passed by, and Regulus made no move to answer. He remained still in his portrait, so much it almost felt as if it had lost its magic. "I saw Sirius. This wasn't a dream, it wasn't a fantasy. It was a memory. As clear as day, the gift the dementors left me with after spending six months with them."

Once again, Regulus didn't answer, and as the silence filled the room, Harry gave a scoff before throwing himself on the bed.

"I hate my brother almost as much as you hate him," Regulus eventually said. "It's that type of ever-burning anger, one that defies all rationality so much that their very presence can set you off. I feel it as well, and as much as I try, it's something I'll never be unable to feel. So take my words to heart when I say… Sirius is not the monster you paint him out to be in your head."

"If you truly believe that, then you have no idea what it is to hate him." Harry said coldly.

"He's an arsehole. A bastard, a simple-minded hypocrite who acts without thinking and has ruined more lives than I can count. But the worst part about him is that he's not a monster. He's not the Dark Lord or many of his Death Eaters, he's not an irredeemable, unrelenting bogeyman. The worst part about Sirius is that, as I've been forced to look back on our lives, on the person he became… the person he is now… that for as much as I try to feel hatred for him. I feel nothing but pity and regret about everything that happened."

"Earlier…" Harry began after a brief silence. "You told me you never imagined Sirius hating someone as much as he hated you… as he hated your parents. You never told me why he hates you so much."

"Another time, kid," Regulus said absently.

"No. I told you what happened between me and Lupin, I went in-depth. If anything, I've earnt this answer."

"Not this one. Not tonight."

"Why not?" Harry demanded.

"Because what I did… it's not something I'm proud of. Just the contrary, it was the worst mistake of my life."

Blackstone House

10:55 p.m.

Balls and grand parties of the sort had never been her fancy. The Yule Ball had been an exception, of course, her mother had done a good job at subtly manipulating her into looking forward to the thing in the first place. All the talk about dresses and the intrigue about who would end up inviting her, it was a clever plant her mother placed in her brain, one she hadn't been able to rid herself of.

That was what happened, had to be the only explanation as to why she felt like a wholly different person looking back at that night.

It wasn't like she wanted to have a bad time at the Yule Ball. It was fun to go on the dance floor and dance until her legs almost gave out on her, fun to spend the whole evening with her friend without the talks of any giant dragons, basilisks, or conspiracies going around the castle. Neville was the perfect gentleman. Nice and polite, and the perfect safe date for two friends to go together, especially with all the pressures Neville faced from the tournament.

Sure, Ron had taken to sulking in the corner for most of the night and ignoring the two of them, even dropping some pumpkin juice on himself after hurriedly trying to leave the conversation. But overall, the night had been fun. Not as exciting and rousing as her mother had assured her it would be, but fun altogether. Not something she was averse to doing again or anything.

This night only proved those suspicions she held to be true. Without her mother to make a big fuss out of the Longbottom ball - something she would have missed if Neville hadn't pleaded for her to attend and keep him company. For once, she felt like she was herself rather than acting like a giddy teenage girl, giggling and dancing and all the other things she usually considered annoying. Then again, maybe it had to do with the fact she was one of the few underage people in the ball.

Ron was staying close to the other Weasleys. She knew he hadn't wanted to come, preferring to stay with his father in what should be one of his last nights at St Mungo's. Still, Mister Weasley had insisted no one stay with him, and after he overheard Neville mentioning the ball to Ron and the other Weasleys, he all but shoved all the Weasleys out the door, insisting they don't miss out on his account. And while she liked the Weasleys, she felt wrong to be stuck to them now of all times.

Neville, on the other hand, was not allowed to leave his grandmother's eye-sight. And while she had promised to keep him company, she hadn't managed sticking with him for long given the dirty looks Augusta kept giving her. Neville had always tried to apologise for how his grandmother treated her, but she always shrugged it off, not wanting him to feel responsible. And while she always told him she didn't care about it, she knew it was a lie.

It had been a mistake coming to this party. Sure, Umbridge had extended their winter break in a cunning move to gain more of the student's support as they forgot about their constant torturing of children who broke her arbitrary rules, and so now she had more time to spend with her parents than ever. But even knowing that, and with her parents' reassurances that they'd be fine without her at Shadowfield, she couldn't help but miss them.

When Sirius had offered the three of them a place in their home, she had been ecstatic. A morbid thing to think of, given how it was a proposition that arose from a conspiracy to attack the people closest to Neville in a swift and brutal retribution for escaping the graveyard. One that the Ministry of Magic would have most likely ignored, given how willing they were to ignore all the signs of Voldemort's return during the summer. But this had been everything she had dreamed of ever since her first year at Hogwarts, a way to keep her parents and her magic in her life without needing to sacrifice either.

She had felt herself slowly drifting away from her parents more and more with each year, forced to choose between seeing them and being with her friends. Sirius' offer allowed her to be with the Weasleys all summer and still spend time with her parents. And now she was able to see Neville too, for the three of them to spend the winter break together. For the first time in her life, she felt she had her friends and her family right with her. Everyone she could ever want to spend time with.

So why was she suddenly feeling so alone?

All the time she spent with anyone, there was a disconnect. Something inside her mind that acted like a barrier between her and everyone else. An invisible feeling, one she knew was there but could not fully describe. And try as she might, nothing she did filled the void it brought. Not her parents or her friends, not her reading or her very mind.

It was an itch she couldn't reach, a word at the tip of her tongue, a feeling of wrongness in everything around her. It drove her to wander around the room, barely aware of her own actions, as she quickly greeted people she knew and politely smiled to those she didn't. It drove her all over the ballroom until she saw him, and immediately, something deep inside her clicked.

She had been an idiot to just barge into his room and lay all her cards on the table. To naively think he'd include her in the investigation just because she asked nicely and provided what she considered would have been a valuable asset for the Head Auror. She had never felt so stupid as she did when he all but ran her out of his office.

Defeat tasted so bitter, and it wasn't something she was willing to relive.

"Head Auror Scrimgeour," she tried smiling, but couldn't fully manage.

"Miss… Granger, was it?"

"Surely, you don't expect me to buy into this act, do you?"

"I am a busy man, Miss Granger. Don't expect me to remember the name of every person who comes into my office promising valuable information."

"Well, since you brought up the case again-"

"I'm not changing my mind. My decision was final."

"I'd hardly call that a decision," Hermione sniffed. "You let me ramble on about all the useful stuff while ignoring the value I would bring before shutting me down."

"I'm not about to include a fifteen-year-old girl into a serious investigation. Especially not about one of a fellow classmate."

"I'd be an asset-"

"You'd be a liability."

"That's not true!"

"Miss Granger," Scrimgeour gave her a patronizing smile, but she could see the impatience brimming behind his eyes. "It's admirable that you're so willing to involve yourself in a case like this one, but that's simply not possible. Besides the fact that your information is old news to us - at best - I can't, in good conscience, use an underage student as an informant."

"My… my information is very up-to-date, thank you very much." She huffed. "Besides, it's not like you're forcing me to do this, I want to do this."

"And why is that?"

"For the same reason you keep investigating Harry Potter even after all the superficial evidence points to a singular conclusion. For the same reason this case doesn't quite sit right with you, even after you've tried to ignore that feeling. Because I want to find out who Harry Potter really is… and to know what justice it is that he deserves."

"And while those are worthy aspirations, it doesn't change anything."

"No it doesn't," she rushed out as she saw Scrimgeour began to turn away. "But the information I have does."

"Miss Granger, not this again-"

"I have more." She said. "I know you're looking for Harry. I know he's missing."

"Did you get your friend Neville to tell you that?"

"No, I know because I saw him. I was with him a couple of days ago. I know where he was staying."

Scrimgeour scoffed. "Please, do tell."

"No, not this time. Not until you give me some sort of assurance that I'll be included in this investigation. And that we're sharing information."

"A smart gambit, Miss Granger, but an obvious lie. No one has seen Potter since he ran away." Scrimgeour said seriously.

"I'm not lying," she said. "I was with him the other day. I'd even be willing to admit to that under Veritaserum."

"And risk giving away such precious information under the effects of the potion?"

"We both know it doesn't work like that, Head Auror. Don't insult my intelligence, I haven't insulted yours."

"Very well. Let's say, in a hypothetical scenario, that you do have this information. Why would I agree to involve you when I could easily find it out on my own?"

"Because you won't be able to. Because you'll search and search around the country before you realise I'm not lying when I tell you, you won't be able to find him. Because I have a lot more information that you would like to know, information I'd be willing to share during our investigation of Harry." Hermione took a step forward and lifted her chin defiantly. "I'm going to do this, with or without your help, Mister Scrimgeour. I won't stop investigating and, in the end, I will find out the truth behind all of this. You can either work with me, or wait for me to do your job for you."

That's it for this chapter, thank you all for reading!

Next chapter is the grand finale of this arc, and it's crazy! As with a lot of chapters, I'm like 75% sure people will get angry over it, but it wouldn't be a PFTW chapter if that wasn't the case at this point ;)

By the time I'm posting this, I'm SIX chapters ahead, and I'm starting to write the next arc titled The Devil's Greatest Trick in which we get to see the aftermath of all the secrets that have finally come to light and how they impact the characters and relationships between them. If you are interested in learning how to get early access to them, join my discord server using the following link: discord . gg / jyPfbGqhJT

As always, thank you for reading, favouriting, and commenting! I appreciate all of you! :)