Chapter 28: Potterwatch
If they had thought that Harry would be more present after the stress of his NEWTs were over, they were wrong. Over the next few days, he was physically present rarely and mentally, it seemed, never. He came and went from Grimmauld Place with no discernible pattern to his day and offered no explanation as to where he was going. When he was there, he seemed distracted and taciturn. Kingsley's eyes were often on him guardedly as he left, be it by Floo or the front door, but he did not ask and Harry did not volunteer.
Ben too watched Harry dejectedly. Harry had not invited a resumption of their morning sparring sessions. This behaviour on its own may have suggested that Harry was still angry with Ben— Ben certainly seemed to think so, and he wandered the house like an abandoned puppy—but for his part, Gawain didn't think this the reason. Harry had been equally aloof toward Gawain the past few days, and Gawain thought him too distracted by his own troubled thoughts to notice the others. Harry still sat with Gawain over a cup of tea in the evenings, but he did so in silence with rarely more than a monosyllabic answer when Gawain attempted to strike up conversation. Gawain wondered if even a skilled Legitimens would be able to tell what was going on inside his head.
Monday morning passed as usual, with the Gang communed together in the kitchen over their respective work. Arthur Weasley had stopped by briefly with the post for them, and Gawain had yet again been disappointed by the lack of the files he'd requested from Marina last week. He'd instead received only a hasty note telling him that she had sent an owl to Martins as she suspected he had taken the files with him to India without leaving copies. The dolt. Kingsley, by contrast, was wading through a stack of envelopes and files and rolls of parchment and slightly squashed paper-airplane-folded memos with a resigned expression on his face.
As midday approached, others began filing into the kitchen expecting lunch. A laugh drew Gawain's attention toward the hob. Mary had taken a turn at preparing lunch today, and Brannagh had wandered over to keep her company and offer help. They were chatting animatedly. Gawain smiled. It was nice to see his wife growing close to a friend. As long as he had known her, she'd held so many people at arm's-length less she suffer a loss like before. Moreover, he'd hardly have recognised Brannagh as the same person he'd met months before in the Ministry. His eyes roved the room. He took in Ben's dejected posture, then the worry lines creasing Kingsley's forehead. Nayana entered, caressing a belly that was getting impossibly large. Amitra circled the table and squeezed Margaret's shoulder as she passed. Margaret blinked tiredly away from her paperwork, and reached up to take her wife's hand and kiss in gently in return. The strain of the month they had spent in Grimmauld Place had affected each of them in a different way, it seemed.
Harry entered, his brisk pace a stark contrast to the aimless lumbering of most of them these days. He reached for an apple from the fruit bowl on the table.
"Lunch is almost ready," Mary assured him, flipping a toastie in her pan.
"Thanks, but I can't stay," Harry replied distractedly. "Gotta run."
"Harry…" Kingsley interjected distractedly. Gawain glanced over and saw the Minister frowning at a letter in his hand. "What's this about? I have a letter from Marianne Macmillan, and she mentions—"
"Sorry, Kingsley. I'm late. Can we talk about it later?" And without waiting for a response, Harry pushed opened the door and hustled out.
Kingsley glanced up from his letter, opening his mouth to reply, but then he shut it. Shaking his head and loosing a sigh, he set the letter aside and reached for the next.
Gawain returned to his own work. Barely had he picked up his quill again, however, when Kingsley let out a growl of frustration, and Gawain looked up again. "Is the whole world speaking in riddles today?" Kingsley muttered rubbing at his temple.
"What's the matter?" asked Margaret, eyes still on the casefile she was scribbling in.
Kingsley just shook his head again, a look of irritated confusion on his face. "Has anyone seen a radio anywhere in the house?" he asked.
"There's one in the library," Ben offered. "No idea if it works, mind. Looks like it's about a hundred years old."
Kingsley grunted his acknowledgement, but he seemed to be choosing to follow suit in the day of riddles.
Ben opened his mouth to ask the question they were all thinking, but at this point, Mary set down a large plate of toasties, and he was quickly distracted. Gawain decided that whatever it was, it could wait, and he too reached for a toastie.
Sensing a break to his work, Ella wandered over to him and began chatting about her morning. Gawain hardly listened, but he pulled her on to his lap as they both shared a toastie. His mind drifted to a time spent sitting in much this same way, sharing much the same sandwich back in Yorkshire. His eyes lifted to Mary and she smiled at them from the hob and for just an instant, he saw her mother in her place.
People seemed in a mood to linger after lunch. It was becoming more and more common— meal times were stretching well after the food had been consumed and the washing up completed. Increasingly, the pretence of work was fading as their isolation drove many to a desperate need for these stollen hours of social engagement. Ella had started up a game of Exploding Snap with Brandon and Maxim, and a few of the adults watched half-heartedly while chatting amongst themselves. Mary, Brannagh, and Amitra were over by the sink finishing the washing up while deep in what must have been an amusing conversation judging by the way they were all giggling.
Gawain hadn't notice Kingsley slip out of the room after the food had been cleared, but he couldn't fail to notice his return. Kingsley kicked open the door, arms straining under the weight of an enormous old-fashioned radio. Gawain quickly made way as Kingsley stumbled over and banged it on the table.
It was at that moment that the fire flared and Weasley and Granger stepped out, one after the other.
"Hey, all," said Weasley, eyes roaming the room to see who was present. "Harry around?"
"He went out," said Kingsley, not looking up as he extended the radio's aerial. "I was rather hoping he was with you."
"Damn. We wanted to hang out with him this afternoon. The joke shop has its grand-reopening on Wednesday, so I'm going to be pretty busy for a while… Sort of my last day of freedom. Did he say when he'll be back?"
"Harry doesn't really say anything these days," Kingsley muttered darkly.
Granger opened her mouth with a concerned expression on her face, but before she could answer, there was a loud explosion from down the table which made everyone jump. This was immediately followed by a shriek of laughter from Ella and Brandon. Maxim was patting his eyebrows, apparently checking for singeing. Kingsley shook his head and returned his attention to the radio.
Granger looked at the radio Kingsley was setting up on the table. "What's all this?" she asked.
"Lee sent me a note that I should be tuned in. Said it's his final episode of Potterwatch and that he has something special planned I wouldn't want to miss."
This all seemed to mean a great deal more to Granger than it did to Gawain. She looked at the radio, then back to Kingsley, then glanced around the room before saying, "Where did you say Harry was?"
Kingley glanced up, momentarily distracted from his fiddling with the dials. "He didn't say. Surely, you don't think…"
"What?" said Weasley. "Harry? Nah. He would have told us, wouldn't he?"
"Would he?" asked Granger. "I'm not so sure… He's been pretty withdrawn. And he doesn't like drawing attention to himself… Maybe he's embarrassed?"
The three of them exchanged glances. "What time is it supposed to start?" said Weasley finally.
"Right now. Four o'clock."
"Well, hurry up then!" said Granger. Let's find it." Kingsley went back to the dials. Gawain's spine straightened as he eyed the radio curiously. His work lay forgotten on the table. There was a staticky sound as Kingsley turned the nob back and forth.
"There!" cried Weasley and Granger at once. They both pulled over chairs and leaned in toward the radio.
A voice Gawain did not recognise was now coming clear and smooth through the radio. "—and thank you for tuning in to this instalment of Potterwatch. I'm your host, River, and I think at long last, it is safe for me to reveal my real name, Lee Jordan."
Gawain glanced around the room as slowly conversations in the room stilled and eyes turned in the direction of the radio. Apart from Kingsley, Granger, and Weasley, the others looked just as mystified as he was.
"I want to say first off that this will be our last Potterwatch broadcast," the voice on the radio continued. "To those of you who are unfamiliar with Potterwatch, this programme was initiated during the War to broadcast the truth and supply information and support to the opposition against Lord Voldemort and the Death Eaters. Sadly, throughout the War, most all forms of news media were under Death Eater control, so we found it important to find a way to get our message out to ensure our listeners knew the atrocities the Death Eaters were trying to hide and to assure them the fight wasn't over. For the past year, we have been broadcasting in secret to only those with a password.
"This instalment, you will notice, there is no password. We are not broadcasting in secret, but instead, this time from a real recording studio with the sponsorship of the Wizarding Wireless Network. So here we are in the open, proud to say that the wizarding community is no longer in need of Potterwatch."
As the host spoke, more and more of the adults in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place fell quiet to listen. Still, down the table, the children were fussing about with their game of Exploding Snap.
"In honour of our final episode, I am thrilled to announce that we have a very special guest on the show tonight. Indeed, the man who I think we can rather credit with us being in a position to broadcast openly at last. Harry Potter is here with us, ladies and gentlemen!"
There was a gasp around the room, and Gawain looked up to see Granger and Weasley exchanging stunned looks.
"Harry. It is such an honour to have you on the show."
"Hello, Lee. The honour is all mine." Granger let out a squeak which she hastily stifled with her hand. Even expecting it after his announcement, Gawain too felt the jolt like a Stinging Hex to the heart. It was indeed Harry's voice. He sounded calm, comfortable, pleasant— like this was something he did every day. It reminded Gawain forcefully of his cavalier attitude toward his hearing at the Ministry.
Suddenly, a boom echoed around the room, rattling the table, as the Exploding Snap deck blew again. Again, everyone jumped. Ella, Maxim, and Brandon let out shrieks of laughter which were met by several 'Shhhhh's from around the room. Kingsley reached over to turn up the volume on the radio.
"Ella! Boys! Put that game away now," said Mary in a clipped tone. "Quiet. Come and listen."
"—I should hardly think," the man named Lee was saying. "Now, I could have questions for you for days, but we're short on time, so let's get straight into it, shall we? It's been almost four months since the Battle of Hogwarts. Since that time, you have been quite out of the public eye beyond some visits to Hogwarts and one trip into the Ministry to give testimony. I have to tell you, it's become something of a joke among members of the press that every article about Harry Potter ends with the line 'Potter declines comment.'"
Harry's easy laugh came through the radio and several people in the kitchen smiled reflexively at the sound. "So I'm told."
"Well, I guess I'd like to start with the question… Where have you been? Why now? And why here?"
"Well, I suppose you couldn't let me off easy, could you, Lee?" Harry said with chuckle. "To start with your first question, I know there are a lot of rumours flying about that seem to paint me off doing something very exciting and daring. I'm sorry to disappoint, but the truth is that I've been all together quite boring over the past few months. I've really just been taking some time to myself to recuperate from… something of a trying year," he laughed again and Lee joined him with a sympathetic chortle. "I am so grateful to everyone who has been so patient with me, as I took some time away to rest, to grieve for friends lost, to just try to find myself again."
By this point, all eyes in the room were turned toward the radio as though expecting to see Harry there. And Gawain could almost see him there. Leaning back in his chair at the scrubbed wooden table, smiling his easy smile as he joked with friends. The room was perfectly still and quiet but for Harry's voice. Gawain noticed a tear running down Granger's cheek. Weasley put an arm around her.
"As to why now… I suppose it's just time. Time for me to get back up and get moving again. Time to re-join the fray. I've had some recent reminders that this fight really isn't over. And I think all who know me know that I'm not particularly good at sitting on the side-lines for long when there's a fight going on. As much as I may crave the quiet life, somehow I will keep getting pulled back into it. So I suppose this is me embracing it." Gawain smiled sadly at his tone, casually joking at his own expense.
"And why you should choose to break your silence here on Potterwatch?" Lee prompted.
Harry laughed again. "I can't help but feel this question just exists to stroke your ego, Lee."
"Well, we can all use that from time to time," Lee returned the jest jovially.
"Potterwatch certainly holds a special place in my heart. While I was on the run last year, I wasn't always able to tune in, but when I did catch it, it was so very comforting to me to be able to hear your voice and that of Royal and… and Romulus and Rapier…" There was a pause and for a moment Gawain thought they had lost the feed. But then Harry continued, his voice sounding strained for the first time. "Being able to get news and know that there were still people out there fighting... It meant the world to me." A pause again. "So I suppose I was keener to break my silence here rather than, for example, with certain newspapers that spent the past year displaying "Undesirable Number One" posters." And just like that, the strain was gone from his voice, and he was laughing again. "Not to mention… I have to admit that after years of being misquoted by reporters as having said things I definitely didn't say, I do find I rather prefer radio to print." There were several chuckles around the room.
"Well, it means the world to me to hear you say that, and we are certainly chuffed to have you here," replied Lee. "To those of you just tuning in, this is Lee Jordan with Potterwatch, and I am joined tonight with none-other than Harry Potter, here to speak about his recent triumph against Voldemort and the Death Eaters and what comes next.
"Let's talk about this past year. We've all read the release from the Ministry of Magic after your hearing there. We won't be going into specifics about your experiences, in part because what is public record, anyone can read about, and what isn't public record, I understand is still highly classified.
"The report released by the Ministry was very heavily redacted, as we all know. Sometimes felt like there were more blacked out words than there were legible ones in parts of it. Was that level of redaction something that you had any say in, or was that all decided by the Ministry?"
"Both. This was something I had agreed upon with Minister Shacklebolt prior to my hearing. I actually encouraged redaction of some parts of my testimony."
"May I ask why?"
Harry audibly took in a deep breath and let it out before continuing. He seemed to be picking his words carefully. "Some of the dark magic that Voldemort used over the years is something that does have some potential to fall into the wrong hands again. I imagine more and more will leak out, as it always does, but I certainly don't want any part in encouraging anyone else to take up that mantel just in the name of satiating public curiosity."
"Fair enough. One part that I found interesting that was not redacted was discussion of the Elder Wand. I imagine I was not the only person who recently brushed the dust off an old copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard to refresh my memory on that story. I have to admit, it all sounded a little fantastical—meeting Death, a cloak of invisibility cloak, a stone that can raise the dead, a wand that can't be defeated. You're claiming that fairy tale is all true?"
"I dunno that I can say what's true or not there, but there seems to be some truth to the existence of some powerful magical objects which may have inspired the story…"
"And you're now in possession of the Elder Wand. The Deathstick. A fabled wand said to be unbeatable, to give its yielder unmatched power." The awe was audible in Lee's voice. Gawain shook his head, knowing what was coming.
"I'm not," Harry replied simply.
"You're— you're not? You're not in possession of the Elder Wand?"
"I was briefly in possession of a wand that may have inspired the Tale of the Three Brothers. But I disposed of it." Gawain felt a wry smile on his lips. He could almost see Harry's offhand shrug.
"You… disposed of a wand that gave you unlimited power?" The words were choked and bordering on apoplectic.
"Unlimited power is likely an exaggeration. But unlimited or otherwise, that kind of power is not something I need in my life. The Elder Wand had a long and bloody history, and I saw no reason to continue that streak. So I disposed of it."
"And just… gave up that power."
"Yup."
"Just like that…"
"Just like that," Harry agreed.
"I don't think many people would, er… make that choice."
"All the more reason to get rid of it," Harry agreed.
Lee cleared his throat. Then seemed to decide to change the subject because this one was just too incomprehensible. "Speaking of power… Let's go ahead and talk politics for a bit, shall we? All anyone can seem to talk about these days—on the rare occasion that they're not talking about you, that is— is the upcoming election for Minister of Magic. Acting-Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt has been challenged in this election by the Head of International Magical Cooperation, Guy Burgess.
"Early in the election, I don't think there were many doubts that Mr. Shacklebolt would be elected, but his popularity has been in decline and it seems the polls have officially tipped in Mr. Burgess's favour this past week. There has been recent dissent that Shacklebolt has not accomplished enough in rebuilding the Ministry. Many people expected us to be much further along in the reformation. And now for the past month, he seems to be out of the public eye entirely, which has raised even further doubts. Do you have comment on the upcoming election and the candidates? Your opinion caries a lot of weight, and I know our listeners are eager to know what outcome you may be hoping for in this election."
Gawain stole a glance over to Kingsley. His eyes were fixed on the radio, a crease between his brows, and he fingered the gold loop in his ear.
Harry's voice took on a stern cadence. His words came smoothly and with the unmistakable cadence of being well-rehearsed—this, it seemed, was the true reason for Harry's presence on this broadcast as he saw it. "Acting-Minister Shacklebolt was handed a near-impossible task when he was asked to stand in as interim Minister. This task is one that he has taken up honourably and without complaint. The expectation that we be back to normal—whatever that is—just four months after the end of the War is unrealistic, and people need to recognise that. He is being charged to rebuild the Ministry—indeed the whole country—completely from scratch. This isn't something that is going to happen overnight. But Mr. Shacklebolt has my every confidence that he will not only succeed in rebuilding the Ministry, but he indeed will be making one that is far better than what we have seen previously."
"I take it your head is not turned by Mr. Burgess's recent jump in the polls?"
"I have only had a couple of brief encounters with Mr. Burgess. I'm sure he has some skills after his time in the Department of International Magical cooperation. But I am disappointed that he seems to have been focusing his energy toward a campaign bid rather than toward using those skills in healing our country's relationships with foreign governments. Perhaps his recent increase in rallies and fundraisers and subsequent jump in the polls reflects his priorities when compared to Mr. Shacklebolt who is clearly busy getting meaningful work done."
"Very diplomatically put!" replied Lee with a hastily stifled guffaw. "You know, there are those who speculate that you may be our Minister of Magic one day. What do you have to say to them?"
Harry laughed. "Heaven forbid. I'll leave politics to far better men and women than I."
"And you consider Mr. Shacklebolt one of those better men?"
"Oh, undoubtedly."
"You'll understand if many of us are sceptical that he could be a better man than you, after all you have done in the name of ending the War. Sceptical that there is such a thing as a better man at all."
There was a short pause before Harry continued. "There is, perhaps, a misperception there. I do not say this out of modesty. But in many ways, I fought in this war because I had to. There was a prophecy stating that I would defeat Voldemort, and for that reason, I was targeted from a very young age. I was presented with a choice between two undesirable options. I could fight and quite probably die. Or I could not fight and almost certainly die. So you can see that my choice to fight had some selfish motivation there. Not all, I grant you. But it was always there. I was raised to fight in this war. Prepared for it without even realising that's what was happening.
"Kingsley—Minister Shacklebolt, on the other hand. He chose to fight. No one made him. He could have very easily sat it out and, as a Pure-Blood, likely been left in peace. But he chose to fight for what was right. He chose to fight to make this world a better place. He chose to take up the mantel as Minister of Magic to bring peace and healing to this country. And for that choice, he will always be the better man. Dumbledore once told me that it is our choices that show who we truly are far more than our abilities. And in Minister Shacklebolt, we are very fortunate to find someone who both makes the right choices and has the ability to make a change for the better.
"Well said. A strong endorsement." Lee paused for a moment, but when Harry did not continue, he added, "Still… you should think about the idea of running for office one day. They say that those who have no desire to lead often make the best leaders," Lee prompted, a teasing smile in his voice.
"They also say that those who have no desire to lead but who have leadership thrust at them, tend to find themselves very tired indeed," Harry countered. "Believe me. I should know." Lee laughed and so did most of the people in the kitchen.
"Well, in the meantime, with election day fast approaching, I'm sure we will all be watching the polls in the newspapers very closely over the coming days!"
Ben clapped a hand on Kingsley's shoulder. There were several murmurs and a few relieved laughs around the room. Brannagh was positively beaming with relief as she looked to Kingsley. Kingsley, however, still just stared at the radio, shaking his head slowly back and forth with that crease between his brows. He said nothing and no such relief showed on his face.
"Regarding the newspapers," Lee continued, and there were hushes around the room as people returned their attention to the radio. "I feel I have to touch upon the article that dropped in the Daily Prophet last week about your childhood. I think you can understand that the community is very unsettled by some of the revelations there. The idea that the Chosen One—someone who is literally touted for destroying Voldemort through love—well, it's definitely upsetting, to say the least, to think that he didn't grow up receiving the love that he gave to us. Would you care to comment?"
Harry was quiet for a moment, apparently collecting his thoughts. When he spoke, his tone was resigned. He'd been expecting this line of questioning but that didn't mean he had to be happy about it. "It has never been a secret that I did not have the happiest of childhoods. I'm not quite sure why anyone would have expected it to be, given that I literally became famous for how I became an orphan. But all I can say is that, while my family and I will never be close, I wish them well. I do, in fact, have gratitude regarding the way I was raised. I am who I am because of it, for better or worse.
"And to say that I grew up without love… Well that's just not true. My parents, my godfather… they literally died because they loved me. Arthur and Molly Weasley, two of the most loving people in the world, took me in and cared for me over the school holidays like I was one of their own children. At school, I had some wonderful professors looking out for me, even though I most definitely did not make it easy for them—sorry, Professor McGonagall!" he and Lee both shared a laugh before he continued. "And I have friends who have proven, time and again, that they would follow me to hell and back. I never have to doubt their love." Several people darted looks to Granger and Weasley, but they were too busy tearfully staring into each other's eyes to pay anyone else in the room any notice.
"So let's not say I grew up without love," Harry concluded. "Because I know how lucky I am."
Lee had a couple false starts before he finally said, "May we all strive to have that kind of outlook in life."
Lee cleared his throat, seeming to accept Harry's unstated closure of this topic of conversation. "Your resilience, your ability to bounce back—this has always been a trait I've really admired in you." A small embarrassed huff was heard in the background through the radio. "You mentioned this being a trying year, which I know is an understatement. While you were on the run, many people believed you dead or that you had fled the country. But from the report the Ministry released, I would gather that you were not just in hiding, but rather hard at work at a plan to bring Voldemort down. I know better to ask exactly what it was you were doing, as most of that was redacted," he added quickly, "but it certainly sounded like you were keeping busy."
"Oh, just a little bit," Harry joked back, but he did not offer further insight into what he had been doing.
"Over the course of the last few years, it definitely sounds like you have had a rough go of things." Lee's voice turned sympathetic as he continued. "I mean, right from the start of the war, you were kidnapped and your blood used to revive Voldemort. You watched Cedric Diggory be killed. You lost your godfather, who I understand you were very close to; Dumbledore, who everyone knows was a great mentor to you. The Ministry and Hogwarts had fallen. You were being hunted by Death Eaters and Snatchers. People were being murdered."
"Is there a question here, Lee? 'Cause you're really starting to bum me out," Harry's words were artfully softened with a good-natured laugh.
"Sorry, I'm getting there. My point is: whatever it was you were doing out there, it must have all looked rather bleak for a good while there, right? I understand you had a task to do, and you were working to bring an end to Voldemort's reign. But through all of that, there must have been a time when you thought about just giving in. So what motivated you? What kept you going? How did you keep hope alive in those circumstances? Did you never think about just quitting and saying 'not my problem'?"
"Oh, absolutely. So many times," Harry gave a laugh at himself. "But there were a lot of things that would pull me back, you know? Sometimes they were big things. I had my friends with me, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. They were with me every step of the way, and honestly, I don't think I would have made it a day without them." Several glances were stolen in Weasley and Granger's direction again. They both had flattered smiles on their faces, though Weasley's seemed tainted by guilt. Granger gave his shoulder a bracing little shake. "And I would think about the people who had given their lives for me," Harry was saying. "And of other people out there... People I cared about who I knew were at risk because they supported me. And I couldn't bear the thought of letting them down, you know? I wanted to make things right for them. To make this world better for them.
"But, a lot of times, it was the little things that would actually get me back on the right tract. Things like catching an episode of Potterwatch," Gawain could hear the genuine smile in the laugh he offered Lee. "Or one night, our path brought us to Godric's Hollow. It wasn't a good night, to be honest. We'd hit some snags; we weren't sure where to go from there. I was worried we'd hit a dead end. That all of this might have been for nothing. But we passed by my parents' old house. I'd never been there before, not since the night they died. I honestly didn't even know it was still there. There's a sign there— just a memorial, explaining what the house is, nothing special on its own—but on the sign, people had left messages. Some of them were clearly very old, but some were fresh. People I didn't even know leaving messages for me. Messages of encouragement. Of faith. They put themselves in danger by leaving those notes—If they had been seen by Death Eaters..." He trailed off a moment. "And that's the type of thing that would do it. It was maybe just a little thing to them. But on that night when everything looked so dark, it meant so much to me. So, to those people out there who wrote on that sign: I don't know who you are. I don't know if you're listening. I don't know if we've ever met. But you're my heroes."
There was a choked silence for a moment, but then Harry continued.
"So I suppose when you ask how I kept hope alive, I guess the answer is that I didn't always. It wasn't so much about keeping hope. It was about knowing where to look for it again when I invariably lost it."
The silence was deafening. Not just on the radio, but in the kitchen as well. Gawain wasn't entirely sure anyone in the room was breathing. He wasn't entirely sure he was breathing. His eyes roved around the room. Granger and Weasley were staring at each other, hands clasped, eyes glistening, having a silent conversation no one else could hear. Margaret and Amitra too were holding hands. Nayana's head was on Sandeep's shoulder. Bones was staring straight faced at the radio, his nose in the air, though his hands gripped his boys' shoulders. Kingsley was still frowning and shaking his head slowly. Tears were streaming down Mary's cheeks as she stared at the radio, hugging Ella firmly against her.
"That's a really touching story," Lee finally supplied, his throat thick. He cleared his throat. "You speak of making the world better for other people. Of not letting them down. But what about for yourself? You've lived much of your life under threat from the Death Eaters. Was that a motivation? To look forward to a world where you would be free from that?"
There was a pause again. Everyone in the room seemed to be holding their breath, leaning in toward the radio.
"Er…" Harry let out an awkward kind of chuckle as though this thought hadn't exactly occurred to him before. "To be honest… I think I'd come to terms with the very real likelihood that I would not be surviving this war from a pretty young age. I don't know how conscious that thought was at first. But I think by the time I was fifteen, I was already coming to grips with it. But yeah… I mean… I guess I hoped for that… That I might survive and be able to go on to have a proper life…"
"And now?"
"Now?"
"The fight's over. You've got your chance at a proper life. So what comes next for Harry Potter?"
Harry gave an uncomfortable chuckle, and Gawain recognised the devise to bide time. He winced a little in sympathy, knowing how Harry hated this question. He anticipated a joke followed by a casual change of the subject.
"I know you're not the only one wondering. And honestly, I haven't answered because I haven't known myself. I've really been struggling to figure that out, and quite recently I think I realised that the reason I'm having such a hard time is because the fight isn't over, is it? The fight has changed, certainly. But it's not over. There's still a long way to go. We've got a lot to rebuild and a lot to build better. And I'm slowly starting to figure out where my place in that fight will be. And, er… well… Guess I'll have to keep you posted."
"So I take it you're not going anywhere?"
"I'm not going anywhere," Harry agreed.
"Well, I know I for one will be most curious to see where the fight takes you next." There was a hoarse clearing of the throat before he continued. "Harry, I as I said earlier, I could talk to you for days, but we are at the end of our time for today. I hope very much to have the opportunity for us to talk again in the future. I am thrilled to announce that I have recently accepted a position as a correspondent with the Wizarding Wireless Network Evening News, and I am sure this will not be the last time we get to chat.
"For those of you who may have missed part of this broadcast or who may simply want to hear it again—can't blame you! Fascinating stuff, if I do say so myself— we will be re-airing this interview tonight at six o'clock and again at nine o'clock. And let's be real, probably several more times in the coming days. Harry, it's been such a pleasure!"
"The pleasure's all mine, Lee."
"Thanks for tuning in, ladies and gentlemen. This has been Lee Jordan with Potterwatch, speaking with Harry Potter. Have a lovely evening, and let's all keep on fighting."
The Wizarding Wireless Networks pre-recorded jingle sounded and then dissolved into static. Slowly, Kinglsley reached up and turned the nob on the radio. The static cut abruptly off with a click from the nob. And then there was silence.
It was Ben who broke it. "Well, I think our problems with your election bid were just sorted, don't you?"
Several weak chuckles with evident relief sounded, and then Weasley added. "Did he just go and Harry Potter the whole country?"
For what felt like the first time in days or maybe weeks or maybe years, Gawain let himself laugh freely.
As Gawain hunted down the teapot, filled it, and heated it with a tap of his wand, he eyed Harry curiously from the corner of his eye. The lad seemed more relaxed and contented this evening than he had all week. Harry was reaching up into a cabinet and pulling down two of the old-fashioned teacups when he paused and turned his gaze toward the kitchen door. Gawain heard Harry give a small huff of laughter, and he a extracted a third cup. This confused him for a moment before the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs met Gawain's ears as well.
When Harry had returned following the interview that afternoon, none of the inhabitants of Grimmauld Place had yet to leave the kitchen. They'd all just waited in quiet anticipation. Harry had walked into the room, taken one look around the room, then to the radio, and he let loose with a few choice swear words. "A month you've been here, and not once have I seen any of you listening to the radio," he'd muttered. Before any of them could offer any words of congratulations or support, he'd gathered Weasley and Granger and left, gratefully clinging to Weasley's excuse that they had limited time together before he was too consumed by the reopening of his brother's joke shop. He'd flatly ignored Kingsley's attempt to speak with him, but he did pause before leaving, turning to Ben to say, "Sparring session tomorrow morning?" Ben had been beaming brighter than the sun for the rest of the evening.
Harry seemed to make a point of staying away until most everyone had gone to bed, but he seemed less concerned by any of it now. By the time Kingsley entered the kitchen, Harry was already pouring him a cup of tea and a small relaxed smile had replaced the fretful crease he had carried on his brow all week.
Or maybe that fretful crease had just been transferred to Kingsley. The Minister stood quietly in the doorway a moment, simply looking at them sombrely. It wasn't until Harry plopped into his seat, leaned back on the hind legs of his chair, and gestured to the tea set out for him that Kingsley sighed and joined them. Gawain too made himself comfortable and looked between the pair of them curiously over his own cup.
The three of them sat quietly sipping for some time. Gawain studied both the other men. Harry was lounging in his chair, the tension released from his shoulders and that ghost of a satisfied smile still on his lips. Kingsley, by contrast, slouched with elbows on the tabletop. He looked worn and tired. He looked old, Gawain realised. Not a flattering thought considering Kingsley was younger than he was.
"I had a letter from Marianne MacMillan this morning," Kingsley broke the silence at last. Gawain blinked. It had not been the opening he'd expected.
"Oh?" said Harry sipping his tea. There as indifference in his tone that Gawain immediately knew was feigned.
"She mentioned you had dinner at her place a couple nights ago."
"Her son's a friend from school," countered Harry simply. Kingsley's eyes narrowed.
"She also mentioned arrangements for an upcoming press conference with 'our special guest'. Mentioned it as though I would already know what she was talking about. Funny thing though. I haven't a clue.
"How odd." Harry took another sip from his teacup, but it was less than successful at covering the smile tugging at his lips.
"I never meant to make you feel you needed to do any of this for me," Kingsley said after a long quiet, his eyes sadly fixed on Harry.
Harry raised an eyebrow. "Maybe I wanted to."
Kingsley loosed a frustrated sigh. "You've spent the past four months avoiding the press at all costs…" he said sceptically.
"Lee is hardly the press," Harry interjected.
"He is though," Kingsley interjected right back. "Even if he's a friend. He's the press. By tomorrow, practically everyone in the country will have heard that interview. Every major news publication will have reported on it, they'll be talking about it all over the WWN, the whole world will be talking about it. Now that you've broken your silence…" He shook his head and Gawain could almost hear his teeth grinding as he chose his words. "You'll be getting requests for follow-up interviews… requests for your opinions of other current events… requests for your appearance at all sorts of events and functions… You don't realise what you've laid yourself open to here."
"I realise just fine, thanks."
"Harry…"
"Kingsley…" Harry mimicked.
Kingsley ignored this. "I just don't like that you're getting involved in… in…" He struggled to find the right word.
"Political activism?" Harry supplied. "Yeah, definitely way shadier than my past exploits." His cheek twitched but Kingsley was not amused at the joke, and he made this plain with a steely glare. "Would it still bother you if it wasn't you who was running for Minister?" Harry continued, meeting his glare unperturbed. "Me sharing my opinion on an upcoming election?"
"That's not exactly all that you're doing though, is it? You're sacrificing your privacy because of my dismal approval ratings—"
"Look, can I just stop you right there? I know you think this is all about you, but it's really not, okay?" Kingsley did stop, but he licked his lips as he eyed Harry, and Gawain thought this was more to take advantage of the pause to formulate his next argument. Gawain, however, looked to Harry curiously. He wasn't sure he believed this statement any more than it appeared Kingsley did, but he waited.
Harry was thoughtful for a moment, staring at his own hands, seeming to be picking his words carefully. "Do you remember after Voldemort came back… when he was still lying low… No one believed me; everyone thought I was an attention-seeking nutter… Umbridge was trying to shut me up," Harry was rubbing a thumb over the back of one hand as he frowned down at it. "And I spent months moping about and just being so bloody angry at everyone and everything." He drew in a deep breath and let out. Then he tucked his hand under the table and looked at Kingsley.
"Then Hermione suggested we start the DA. And she encouraged me to give an interview for the Quibbler, you remember?"
Kingsley nodded. "I brought a copy of the magazine over for Sirius." He smiled sadly at the memory. "He was so proud of you." Gawain remembered the copy of the Quibbler sitting forgotten in the library among books of dark magic and pureblood genealogy.
Harry faltered. He looked at Kingsley a moment, and his eyes seemed to be shining a little brightly in the dim light. Then he tore his gaze away, swallowed hard, and licking his lips. "The point is," Harry said, not acknowledging Kingsley's comment, "It was a way to fight back. And the more I fought, the better I felt." He looked back to Kingsley. "I wasn't made to sit around not doing anything. I need to be fighting."
There was silence as they all digested this. Then Kingsley said, "Are you sure this is the battle you want to be fighting? You hate politics."
Harry gave a huff of laughter and shrugged, conceding this point. "No denying that. But maybe this is where the most meaningful battles are fought, whether I like it or not. The world is still so damn broken. Killing Voldemort didn't fix it. But I dunno, maybe this could… Or at least a step in the right direction. People listen to me— dunno why they should, but they do. I have the power to enact some kind of change. Seems to me, I can't complain that the world isn't getting better if I don't at least try."
There was quiet as Harry and Kingsley eyed each other and Gawain eyed Harry and Kingsley. Gawain thought back to the boy he'd met four months ago. The boy who'd struggled to hold himself together after his hearing at the Ministry. The boy who'd shied away from any conversation about anything of real substance. Gawain barely recognised that boy now. He had changed as surely as the rest of them in Grimmauld Place had. As surely as he had. The Gawain of four month ago could never have expected the pride swelling his chest in that moment.
Kingsley's expression showed pride too. But there was also sorrow and guilt. Harry must have seen this too, because he concluded, "Seriously. Don't flatter yourself too much, because a good amount of this was pure selfishness, really. I just don't think I would survive the second coming of Cornelius Fudge."
"Well, here's to that," Gawain agreed. Harry grinned at him, and they clinked teacups quite merrily. Kingsley ran a hand over his bald pate, but a begrudging smile crossed his lips.
They spent the rest of the evening discussing the upcoming Quidditch season and the likely picks for the national team.
The mood of the residents of Grimmauld Place lightened considerably over the coming days. Gawain suspected this was largely a result of just one person's mood, really. Not for the first time, Gawain marvelled at Harry's effortless influence of those around him. While he still came and went a fair amount on his own secret errands, he was careful to carve out time for his sparring sessions with Ben, his late night chats with Gawain, a game or two with Ella, and he always seemed to be back for mealtimes and happy conversation with the rest.
The only person who did not seem quick to succumb to Harry's infectious mood was Kingsley. He still appeared troubled and stressed. While he smiled weakly at Harry's jokes, he was increasingly taciturn as the election approached.
A couple days after the interview on Potterwatch, Harry had gone out straight after breakfast. Kingsly had watched him go with a knowing expression. A knowing and resigned if a little irritated expression. Kingsley had left the room not long after Harry.
A short time later, Gawain had passed the library on his way back upstairs. The door was ajar, and a cacophony of raised voices could be heard from within. Far more voices than were people in Grimmauld Place. His feet faltered in confusion, and he poked his head around the door curiously.
Kingsley was sitting on his own, one elbow propped on the reading table, a fist pressed to his lips, staring at the large old radio. The dissonant shouting abruptly died, and a voice came smooth and oily through the radio. "Graham Haversham, Daily Prophet, Mr. Potter. Knowing that you have had a difficult relationship with past Ministers for Magic, will the outcome of the upcoming election influence your decision on whether to work in the Ministry in the future?"
"As I said earlier," Harry's voice replied, "I'm still undecided about my future job prospects. But rest assured that I am quite capable of working with people I don't particularly like. As evidenced by the fact that I am here talking to the Daily Prophet. Next question."
Gawain snorted and there was the sound of laughter from the reporters on the other end of the radio which transitioned into more shouting as they struggled to gain Harry's attention to ask their own questions. Kingsley did not seem to share in the mirth. Gawain clapped his hand on the Minister's shoulder and offered it a bracing little shake before he moved on upstairs.
The following morning, was just as cheery to start. Everyone seemed particularly chatty as they tucked into breakfast. Kreacher presented Harry with his post as usual—the morning stack of letters had grown substantially since the Potterwatch interview, and Gawain had grown quite good at recognising which were interview requests sure to be shunted to one side. But today there was something else in the stack. Something that made Harry stiffen.
Harry's hand automatically passed a six-inch high stack of interview requests to Kreacher, but in the other hand he held a large square envelope. He sat perfectly still, staring at the envelope and Gawain glanced at it, curious at the change in his posture.
"That's the Department of Magical Education's seal! Are those your NEWT results?" Amitra asked from across the table, fork frozen halfway to her mouth. Several heads turned to follow her eyes.
Harry didn't reply. He still seemed frozen, staring at the envelope in his hand, face emotionless.
"So soon?" said Mary, eyeing the letter curiously.
"So few people took the exams this year, they must have made quicker work in marking them than usual," Amitra replied. "I know there was a big push to get results out as soon as possible so students could still get their applications out if they planned to go on to higher education."
"Yeah yeah. Fascinating and all, but are you gonna open it or what?" Ben interrupted.
It took Harry a moment to move. Still, he said nothing, but slowly he flipped the envelope over. A thumb slid under a green wax seal depicting a wand growing out of an open book with leaves sprouting from its tip like a tree. Gawain averted his eyes to offer some privacy as Harry extracted a single sheet of parchment from the envelope, but after a moment of silence, he couldn't resist a glance to his face. Harry kept his expression blank as his eyes paused to take in the name of the course, then slid to the corresponding mark on the right, then repeated on the next line, and the next. After what felt like an eternity, Harry let out a slow soft breath and slid the parchment back into the envelope. His jaw was clenched in an odd expression Gawain couldn't read. Frustration? Determination? Resignation? Some-other-tion?
There was silence. All eyes were on Harry expectantly.
"How did you do?" Kingsley asked gently as Harry tucked the envelope into a pocket.
Harry glanced at him. He licked his lips and it seemed an effort to pull on his cavalier attitude today. "Fine," he said. It fell short of casual and he seemed to know it. He pushed off the table as he rose to his feet.
"Exam scores aren't the most important thing in the world, you know," said Kingsley bracingly, his expression sympathetic. "No one expects you to have top marks after missing a whole year of school."
Harry's expression slipped for just a fraction of a second as he glanced to Kingsley, and Gawain could read the disappointment there before it was again wiped blank. "Yeah," was all he said. He made to turn away from the table.
"And it's not too late to go back to Hogwarts for another year if you want," Amitra chimed in hastily. "Or take a little sabbatical or something and try again next year."
"Right," said Harry slowly. "Excuse me," he added in a mumble. And he turned a walked swiftly from the room.
There was quiet in the kitchen. Gawain shifted uncomfortably as he turned back to his breakfast.
"He worked so hard, though," said Brannagh sadly to no one in particular.
"I think we all remember how challenging those exams were," sighed Margaret.
"And after a whole year away from school…" Amitra added.
Gawain sighed softly and he reached for the marmalade, blocking out the murmurs around him. His eyes drifted to Harry's forgotten toast as Kreacher bustled over to clear his spot.
The mood in the house would keep on swinging, wouldn't it.