CHAPTER 90: Two Minutes To Midnight (Part 1)

444 Warwick Way

9:45 p.m.

Harry landed with a crack right before the door, the floor below him shaking from the sheer force of his apparition. He'd done as Michael's brother had instructed, apparating all over Britain to shake off any Aurors who might have followed him before heading back home. And though his magic felt tired after nearly thirty minutes of non-stop apparition, he hadn't felt as alive as he did in a very long while.

He opened the door and crossed the room as he strode towards the kitchen. He set the files he had with him on the counter before tearing off his sweaty shirt and letting it drop to the ground. He drank three full glasses of water and ate half a packet of cookies before noticing the portrait that was hanging on the opposite wall.

"Regulus?" He whispered, and to his surprise, the portrait smiled. "How did you get here?"

"I brought him here," Bedivere's voice spoke from the living room, surprising Harry enough that Black's wand was in his hand before he knew it. "Please, feel free to head upstairs for a new change of clothes. We may be here a while."

Harry suppressed a scoff and walked into the living room. Bedivere was already seated, a cup of tea hovering within reach and a copy of the Daily Prophet in hand. He hated being shirtless, especially when it meant people could get a glimpse at Montague's little handy work, but this was his house. He wouldn't go and change to accommodate anyone, not even Bedivere Parkinson. "I'm assuming it was you who sent Flint for me."

"Unfortunately, I can't take credit for that," Bedivere said emotionlessly. "Mister Flint's search and rescue operation was wholly his idea."

"Then that makes two times I've been captured, and two times you haven't done shit for me, Parkinson. Somehow, I'm getting the feeling our partnership isn't as mutually beneficial as you suggested it would be."

"Several things came up, all of which were a bigger priority than your latest mess. I'm your partner, Mister Potter, not your Fairy Godmother. If you wish to get drunk and make a ruckus at the closest pub, then so be it. But don't expect us to clean after you."

Harry felt his face flush red with shame. "It wasn't like that."

"I very well hope not. And if this were to happen again, I'd be most displeased."

Harry ground his teeth, more pissed at Bedivere for being right rather than for calling him out. Once again, he'd let his emotions get in his way and he'd paid for it. And if Flint or Granger ended up being caught, then he wouldn't be the only one forced to atone. That thought only made him angrier.

"You're a remarkable boy, Harry," Bedivere continued, and though his words were soft, his tone wasn't. "Despite all your flaws, you persevere unlike anyone else I've ever met. And I've lived a long life. No matter what life throws at you, you somehow find a way to keep moving forward. Even if that means dragging yourself through the mud to do so. It's a trait that would be more admirable if you actually did something with it."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Do you want to know why, even with all your great strength and raw power, you continue losing to the likes of Montague and Scrimgeour and Dolohov? It's not because of their own greatness, they are all mediocre men, the type that history will forget the day following their obituary. It's because of your own short-sightedness. They set the game, and you willingly play it. And yes, sometimes, you win. But most of the time, you lose."

"So what? I'm supposed to just stop playing?"

"No," Bedivere smiled viciously. "You have to make them play your game. You have to be the one to set the rules, to make them dance for you. It's the players who take the risk of losing, not the game master."

"Not all of us have the resources that make it easy to force the Head Auror to do your bidding," Harry said sardonically.

"You don't need to be the Head of the Department of Mysteries or even have a fortune to force even the most important men in the country into playing your game. Think back to your very own cover-up of Mister Montague's death. Even after your reckless actions, Snape set the game just right so that Scrimgeour would come in and lose. A lowly teacher taking on a group of Aurors, and besting them all."

"Snape is far from a lowly teacher," Harry said, hating that he had just technically given a compliment to Snape.

"Just as you are far from an average student," Bedivere smiled. "That hat placed you in Slytherin for a reason. While many would say your sheer recklessness proves the hat makes mistakes, I'd disagree. You're as capable as any other Slytherin, or at least you would be if only you'd finally embrace it instead of rejecting it."

"Who says I'm rejecting it?"

"You are. Every time you allow your emotions to overcome you or give into another's games, you show just how much disdain you have for your own sorting. You're not just resilient, Harry. It takes more than simply being headstrong to be able to escape imprisonment from the DMLE and the Order of the Phoenix alike. It takes resourcefulness and cunning. It takes a true Slytherin."

This time, Harry couldn't manage to snuff out his scoff. The two words that had haunted him for years. Perhaps he hated them more than he realised. "Yeah, well, lately I haven't been feeling very Slytherin."

"Then start acting like one," Bedivere dropped the Daily Prophet on the table beside him and stared him dead in the eyes. "The Dark Lord is making his move within the next few days, and he won't be alone. The rest of the Death Eaters will join him. Many will die, and if we're not careful, we could lose this war before it even begins."

"So what do you want me to do? Stay at home and wait for the Prophet to read all about it?"

"As much as I'd want that, I can't ask that of you. Even if you could show such restraint, it wouldn't make a difference. Fate isn't so easily stopped. I only ask you to avoid the Ministry as a whole. The Department of Mysteries especially."

"Why?"

"Because the Dark Lord's plan is centred around it. And you are one of the few people who could reveal the prophecy to him. That is something that cannot be allowed."

Harry bit his lip, tilting his head slightly as he analysed Bedivere. "And how will you play into the Dark Lord's game?"

"I won't," he smiled. "Corban has finally mapped out all the Horcruxes. While the Dark Lord implements his scheme, we'll seek them out and try to gather as many as possible."

"We?"

"Augustus and Kieran have offered to help."

I can help, Harry wanted to say, but he stopped himself before he did. Montague was still out there. Dolohov too. If Voldemort had a plan, and his Death Eaters were going to help him, the two of them were definitely going to be involved. And he'd spent far too much time hunting them down to give up this golden opportunity.

"I take it you won't?" Bedivere asked, but he already seemed to know the answer.

"I've helped enough already," Harry said.

"You certainly have," Bedivere stood up, grabbing his floating tea cup and taking one final sip of it before it wordlessly vanished. "Take care of yourself, Harry. Be on your guard. Even for someone like you, it's going to be a dangerous night."

Department of Magical Law Enforcement

10:15 p.m.

"I didn't do anything," Hermione Granger repeated for the fortieth time, and even after all her practice, she couldn't make it sound like the truth.

Rufus slammed down her wand on the desk, only to be surprised when the girl didn't jump in alert. "The last spells you used were the exact ones that locked the door. You helped Potter escape!"

"As I told you, Potter yanked my wand out of my hand and used it to lock the door. He's the one who used it, not me."

"Why would he do that?" Amelia asked.

"To frame me," Granger glared at her. "He blames me for Rita's article. He hates me!"

"And yet, these spells are rather advanced," Rufus continued. "Most seventh-years wouldn't even know about them, much less be able to cast them properly. I can't imagine Potter being very studious, but we both know you are."

"Tell that to all the advanced duelling spells he knows."

It had been a little more than an hour since they'd begun interviewing her, and they'd only gone in circles. Still, Rufus was unwilling to let her sleep before she confessed. They kept going for two more hours after that, and he would have continued further if Amelia hadn't pulled the plug on it and forced him back to her office.

Even being back there made his blood boil. His mind kept replaying his confrontation with Potter over and over again. After months of searching, they had finally caught him only for him to escape from his grasp. And humiliate him in the process.

"She's lying," he proclaimed as soon as the door was closed.

"Her parents back her story to a tee."

"Of course they do, they're her parents!"

"All I'm saying is that it just doesn't make any sense," Amelia said. "Why would she risk her freedom just to help someone she knows is guilty?"

"Guilt? Shame? I don't know. It doesn't matter. The point is that she helped him, and now he's gone."

"Rufus," Amelia snapped at him, making him realise how bitter his voice was. "I'm as angry as you, but you need to calm down. We're Aurors. Whatever our feelings, we must remain professional."

Rufus finally settled himself after a cup of tea and half an hour. It had been far from easy, but given how Amelia had shut down any attempts at communication until he was calm, he forced himself to at least appear relaxed.

"Hermione Granger shouldn't be our concern. Not at the moment," Amelia finally said. "Do you remember the Flint boy? The one who came to my office to inform us of the riot?"

"What of him?"

"We have reason to believe he was behind Potter's breakout and the subsequent riot. Apparently, Auror Proudfoot saw the boy apply a disillusionment charm on himself a few minutes before everything started."

"Stupid boy," Scrimgeour growled.

"Not completely," Amelia said grudgingly. "He was smart enough to know it wouldn't be long before we found out his involvement. No one's seen him since the riot. I just sent a few Aurors to his flat, but this didn't seem like a sudden idea from Flint. He planned this thoroughly. I doubt he'll be at any of his known locations."

"Send this to our contact at the Prophet. Let's not give the Flint boy any more time than we need to."

"I already did," Amelia said curtly, she did always hate whenever he treated her like one of his Aurors. "Potter's and Flint's faces will be plastered on the front page before the sun is up." Amelia placed her hand on his shoulder, a comforting gesture that would not have meant anything on any other day. "We're going to catch them both, Rufus. This is nothing but a minor setback."

He wanted to agree with her, but couldn't bring himself to voice the words. "What about Granger? What are we going to do about her?"

Interrogation Room

April 28th, 1996

12:00 a.m.

Madam Bones left the room, shutting the door behind her with a little more force than was necessary, leaving the three Grangers alone. She could feel the tightness in the air, the anger and hurt that was coming from her parents. But it was all overshadowed by the way her heart twisted itself in a million different ways, and the cold emptiness she felt in her gut as she was faced with more time inside a DMLE cell.

"Well, at least Madam Bones said you'd only be in here for another week, at most," her mother said, trying and failing to give her a smile. "You'll still be able to go back and get plenty of studying in before the OWLs."

Hermione gave a small laugh, only for her heart to immediately break as she saw her mother crying.

"I'm okay, Mum," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "Really."

"I…" A sob overtook her right before she buried her head in her father's shoulder. He hugged her, and the peace Hermione was feeling began to quickly fade. She hadn't thought of her parents in this whole situation. How her actions would impact them. "I know, sweetheart," her mother finally managed.

"Hermione, why?" Her dad asked, a hint of emotion showing through his steely tone.

"You wouldn't understand."

"Not if you don't explain it to me," he pressed. "How could you think that any of this was alright? He's a murderer, Hermione. A serial killer."

"I know what he is, Dad," she said fiercely. "I'm not blind. I'm not stupid."

"Then why did you help him?"

"Because he isn't just that! He's not a… he's not a monster." Her voice broke when she said that final word. "I thought he was. I… I wanted him to be. But he isn't."

"I know you empathise with everything that's happened to him. And I get it, Hermione, I feel for him too. The way he was treated… everything that boy endured… it's no way to live. But it doesn't give him a free pass to commit murder."

"He's not just a murderer, he's helped people! He taught the entire school Defence for over a month, doing so without getting anything in return. When one of the men at The Three Broomsticks tried to kill me, he saved me. And Ron. Neville. Ginny. And over a dozen other people there!"

"It still doesn't change the facts, Hermione. How many people has he killed? How many fathers? How many sons?"

"Mum says you've killed people too," Hermione blurted out.

Her father turned to her mother, his face so very stony that it made her mother shrink away slightly. Hermione's heart twisted again, feeling as if she just brought yet another problem down on her mother. Her father eventually turned back towards her and released a deep sigh. "This is different, Hermione. What I did… I didn't do it for pleasure, nor do I look back at it with pride. What I did, I did it to survive. And not a day goes by when I'm not haunted by the people I…" He stopped, looking away with a vulnerability that she had never before seen on her father's face. "This boy is not a soldier. He's not doing this out of a desperate need for survival. We taught you that there was right and wrong in this world, Hermione. And what he does is so very clearly wrong."

"I know it is," she said softly. "I'm not saying he's doing the right thing… or that he even is a… a good person. But it's not about what he's doing. It's about what he could do. Just… think about this for a second. Imagine living a loveless life. One where your own family doesn't want you. Where your closest friend betrays and tortures you a month into starting secondary school. One where you're left broken and alone to fend for yourself in a world that's seemingly going out of its way to torture you as much as possible. Where you have to deal with cursed diaries that try to possess you and hellish creatures that make you relive your worst memories. What would you do? How would you turn out?"

The silence filled the room as her father grappled with her argument. But before he could answer, her mother spoke. "I'd go mad."

Her father nodded solemnly.

"You wouldn't just go mad, Mum. You'd give up on life. You'd give up on people. You would be so damaged that you would never allow yourself to feel empathy again. To want nothing but to inflict pain upon others. And yet, Harry's not like that. He's helped people. Saved people. Somewhere inside him, there's still goodness. Deep down, there's still someone that wants to help people, not hurt them. Someone who would risk their own life to save others. Someone who could one day be a hero. Do you know many people like that? People who have suffered so much and still have a good heart inside them?"

"Just because he saved your life doesn't mean he shouldn't pay for the ones he's taken." Her mother said.

"I turned my back on him, Mum. After I saw Montague's picture in the papers, I called him a monster and so many other vile names without thinking that the true monster may have been Graham. I shunned him. Tried to get the entire school to do so as well. And even after all of that, he still risked his own life to save me and my friends. And I didn't stop there. I let Sirius and the others beat him nearly to death, snap his wand, and lock him up. I just watched it. And then, I pried into his life and exposed everything that's happened to him to so many people. I was selfish and thought I deserved an answer to all my questions. That my satisfaction was worth more than his privacy. I may not have killed anyone, but my hands are far from clean. Does that mean I don't deserve a shot at redemption? Do I not get to try to make amends?

"Of course, you do, sweetheart."

"Then how could I not give the same chance to him? After what he's done for me - for my friends - how could I not do this for him?"

Her parents didn't look convinced, but she could feel her chest slowly loosening up. This felt right. She didn't know what Harry would do, didn't know if he'd ever get to a point where she could think of him as even close to good. But he deserved the chance to at least try. It was a leap of faith on her part, and though usually, she hated those… she felt somehow, somewhat at peace with her decision this time.

"So many people have hurt him over the years. Done nothing but add to the many reasons why he should hate everyone else. I was one of them. Well… not anymore. I've hurt him long enough."

Grimmauld Place

9:35 p.m.

After his stint at the DMLE, Harry had pillaged the pantry for nearly two whole hours before passing out and waking up nearly twenty hours later. Some would have told him he'd just wasted twenty valuable hours to prepare for the apocalyptic night Bedivere had prophesized. But after basically going two whole days without any food or sleep, he would argue his energy was in deep need of a refill. As good as he was, he didn't think he could beat a pack of Death Eaters while deprived of everything needed to keep the body moving.

And no more alcohol until everything was done with. Certainly no more alcohol.

He had showered and changed, fully intending to begin tracking Montague and Dolohov once again. There was limited time, so he was willing to waste very little of it. And yet, as he sat down and went through everything he knew his mind began drawing blanks. Or, more accurately, it was too bothered by something to fully concentrate on his task. He'd tried blowing off steam by talking with Regulus for a while, but that didn't end up working either.

And before he knew what he was doing, he had apparated to Grimmauld Place. Harry couldn't help but find a bit of irony in this. When he had escaped back in January, he had promised himself he would never step foot inside this rotten manor ever again. And yet, he had visited it just as many times as he'd visited Parkinson Palace.

The Order had run him out the last time he'd been there, so he wasn't expecting a warm welcome. He had one of Bedivere's portkeys for a quick escape, and if they weren't strong enough to break through the wards of the house, there was always Longbottom's old invisibility cloak in his pocket. Either way, he had no intention of being incarcerated once more. Especially not when it meant he would have Sirius Black as his cell-mate.

He wasn't sneaky as he entered the house, the front door all but slamming into the wall as he announced his entrance to anyone inside. He was somewhat underwhelmed by the lack of reaction and pushed himself deeper into the house.

"Hello?" He called out as he reached the living room. "Are you people asleep already?"

"There's no one here," a voice called out from the kitchen, one he recognised immediately. After a moment's hesitation, Harry entered the kitchen and saw Mrs Weasley working in the kitchen as the dishes washed themselves behind her. "You just missed them."

Harry tried to open his mouth, but the menial task suddenly became impossible. He still remembered everything he'd told her the last time he'd been left alone with Mrs Weasley. And perhaps if she hadn't looked at him with pure disgust, he wouldn't have regretted saying all those things so much. But she had. And the disgust behind her eyes had only turned worse once she'd found out about all the other people he had killed. He couldn't bear to see her looking at him that way again, and if he opened his mouth, he was going to end up saying something that would inevitably lead to that.

Still, somehow, he managed to do just that. "When's Dumbledore coming back?"

"Late," she said, somewhat curtly. "Last night, they didn't come back until near dawn. You can wait for them… if you want."

"No," Harry said immediately. "No, just… tell Dumbledore that he needs to be ready. Voldemort is planning something. Something big. And it's going to happen really soon."

"How soon?" She asked, unable to keep the worry from her voice.

"I can't say for certain, but no more than a few days."

"And how do you know?"

Harry felt insulted by the question, even if it hadn't been said accusatory. "I'm not a Death Eater."

"I'm not saying you are," Mrs Weasley quickly said. "It's just… you come and go so often, and we don't even know what you're doing half the time. And if you come across something like this… you must be involved in something dangerous."

Maybe it was Harry hearing things where there were none, but he could have almost sworn that there was worry in her voice. But it didn't make sense for her to regard him with anything other than disgust. Maybe he was still sleep-deprived.

"It's nothing. Just… pass on the message to Dumbledore. He'll have to be ready when Voldemort attacks." He felt himself gulp, and before Mrs Weasley could ask any more questions Harry turned and left. He nearly reached the front door before she caught up to him and pulled him back by the arm.

"Harry, please stay," she said.

He looked at her, surprised to see no signs of hatred or malice in her features. "Why?"

"If things are about to get as dangerous as you say, I don't want you out there. You could get hurt."

"So?"

"So?" Mrs Weasley echoed, this time with more power to her voice.

"Why do you care if I get hurt?" He said, his words coming out more hateful than he'd meant them.

"Because I care about you, Harry," she gripped his shirt. "And I'm not the only one. Ginny. Albus. You have people here who care about you."

"You all ran me out of here when Andromeda told you what I was doing. You couldn't even look at me after that night we talked!"

Her lip quivered. "Harry," she said softly. "Everything that happened… everything you said. It was a lot. I needed to process it, to decide what to think after all of it. But that never meant I stopped caring about you. I don't hate you, Harry."

"Why not?" He asked, hating how pathetic his voice was. "After everything I've done, how can you still stand there and act as if you care? What I've done… who I've become… no one could ever care about someone like me."

"I do," she promised.

"No," Harry shook his head, trying to get away from her, but she wouldn't let go of her grip.

"Harry… you're not evil. You're not unlovable. There is so much good inside you, I can feel it. Someone who didn't wouldn't hurt so much over the bad things they've done. They wouldn't feel all the pain and guilt that I know you feel. All those things you wish you could stop feeling show just how much good there is inside you. How much strength. You're not weak or broken, Harry. You have no idea how strong you truly are."

"No," Harry croaked out. "You… it's just all excuses. It doesn't change who I am."

"We all make mistakes, Harry. We all do things we aren't proud of. Things we wish we could change. But just because we can't go back and change them doesn't mean we can't change ourselves and strive to be better."

"But I can't!" He shouted, feeling himself about to lose control. "Don't you get it? I'm so fucked up, I don't even know what's right and what's wrong anymore. No matter what I do, I'll just end up making things worse."

"No, you won't," Mrs Weasley said earnestly, and suddenly, she did something Harry would have never expected. She pulled him in and brought him into a tight hug. "You're not alone anymore," she whispered to him, and Harry finally felt himself lose control.

He hugged her back, latching onto her so tightly as he buried his face in her shoulder. He couldn't remember a day when he had sobbed as hard as he did that day.

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

Next chapter we finish the quick two-part prelude arc to the GRAND FIFTH-YEAR FINALE. Be excited!

By the time I'm posting this, I'm ELEVEN chapters ahead, and have just finished the second arc of the THREE-ARC FINALE titled Children of Fate! 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! :)