Disclaimer: Another cold winter.

Part 03 of 'Halloween Echoes' Odd Ideas #132, 136

Fear and Corruption

Amelia's thoughts were whirling when she arrived home. Dismissing her close security, she gathered up her niece for what she was sure would be a very difficult conversation.

"What did you want to talk with me about, Aunt Amelia?" Susan asked.

"It's about Harry Potter," Amelia began. "I spoke with him today and I don't think . . . I think you should drop your crush, Susan."

"Why?" the girl asked, confusion coloring her tone. "You said that he sounded like a perfectly nice boy."

"Harry Potter scares me, Susan," Amelia admitted. It both shamed and horrified her that she'd see a schoolboy as such a substantial threat.

"He should, Aunt Amelia, he's very dangerous," Susan agreed. "It's what attracted me to him." One of the things anyway.

"Susan," Amelia gasped, she was shocked to the bone by her niece's pronouncement.

"I found out what happened to my parents, Aunt Amelia," Susan said softly. "I found out that the coroner estimated that my mum lived three hours longer than my da and I found out what . . ." Tears flowed down the girl's face. "Even if they did get through Harry, he'd . . . he'd keep me safe, Aunt Amelia. There wouldn't be enough left of them to do what happened to mum."

"Susan," Amelia sobbed, pulling the girl into a hug. "The report didn't say everything."

"It was worse?!" the girl cried in dismay.

"Parties unknown nabbed a low level death eater soon after what happened to your parents and . . . did things to him to make him talk. Not one of the animals responsible for what happened to your parents outlived them by more than three days and not one of them had an easy death," Amelia confessed. "I'm not . . . It was a war, things like that happen in wars."

It had gotten particularly messy towards the end. Most of the Department had come to the conclusion that they couldn't win, and if they couldn't win than they had nothing to lose and that it was better to go out on their feet, better to make sure the bastards never forgot what their victory had cost them, to make sure the surviving bastards never had a full night sleep for the rest of their pathetic lives for fear that there might still be Aurors left in the world.

"Thank you, Aunt Amelia." She snuggled into the woman's arms. "That helps, a bit."

"About Harry."

"Yes, Aunt Amelia?"

"I have a report that he killed at least four death eaters without using any magic, none of them had easy deaths either." Relatively quick, but none had been lucky enough to get what she'd classify as a good way to go.

"Would mum have survived if da had been a bit more like Harry?" Susan asked.

"At least through that attack," Amelia admitted, hating herself for the seeming disloyalty to her brother's memory.

"Harry says he's back, Aunt Amelia. I don't want my children to grow up orphans."

"I just want you to be safe."

Susan laughed. "I'd be safe with Harry. You say he's dangerous and you're right, but the important thing is... who's he dangerous to?"

IIIIIIIIII

Harry ignored everyone upon his return, brushing past them without a second glance on his way to the library. When he reached the doorway and saw the dozens, seemingly hundreds, of shelves he'd had yet to peruse his heart sank.

"When this is over, I'm not going to so much as think about a book for at least five months," he muttered to himself.

"What was that, Harry?" Hermione asked from behind his left shoulder.

The boy sprang forward and had his billhook half out before he realized what happened.

"Hermione," he began, fighting to slow down his heartbeat. "In the future, please don't sneak up on me like that."

"Who's sneaking?" the girl asked, brushing past him to the chair she'd claimed. "I followed you up from the sitting room."

"Oh." Letting himself get that complacent, even in what was supposed to be a secure environment was a surefire way of avoiding his next birthday.

"So what was it you said?" Hermione asked innocently.

"Just thinking about what we should look into today," he lied effortlessly.

"So it wasn't something about not studying after we've managed to find a way to kill Voldemort?" Hermione persisted.

"Of course not," he said quickly. "You know I'd never say something like that." 'Aloud where you could hear me,' he thought to himself.

"Okay," she chirped. "I'd planned to let you slack off a bit after you'd vanquished Voldemort, but you're right. It'd be a bad idea wouldn't it? Not only might there still be Death Eaters around but maybe a new Dark Lord in the works." She nodded, not a trace of guile on her face. "Brilliant deduction, Harry."

"Perhaps it would be okay to slack off for just a little while?" he suggested, recognizing the corner he'd painted himself into.

"No, you were right the first time," Hermione said, twisting the knife. "In fact, maybe we should study extra hard because . . ."

"Enough, you win," Harry sighed. He really hated his life sometimes.

"Of course I do, Harry," Hermione agreed. "It serves you right for lying to me like that."

"Serves me right for not learning to keep my thoughts inside my bloody head," Harry groaned.

"So what do you think we should study today?" Hermione asked, her tone dripping with smug satisfaction.

"Anatomy maybe," he suggested.

"Was that a crude come on?" Hermione asked.

"What?"

"Were you suggesting that we snog, or were you suggesting we study books to see how the human body is put together?" Hermione clarified.

"The second," he replied.

"Oh . . . pity," she teased. "You know, Harry, not everything can be learned from books."

"You know where I'll be any time you want to get hands on," he replied, wagging his eyebrows. "Or a mouth on or a-"

"Prat," she giggled blushing a deep red.

"And that's another point to Harry," he said, licking his finger and drawing an imaginary one in the air.

"I presume your interest in how people are put together is to gain a better understanding on how to take them apart?" Hermione prompted.

"Yes, one person in particular," Harry agreed. "It's not as hard to kill someone as it is hard to cripple them enough that they'll be useless for a while."

"Especially with magic to contend with," she agreed. "Who is it?"

"Do you really want to know?" he stalled, giving her a way out if she wanted it.

"Yes," the girl agreed.

"Draco may be a bigoted, bullying, pathetic little shit weasel."

"Language, Harry," Hermione admonished automatically. "But?"

"But, he's still a kid that hasn't done anything to warrant his death." Yet. "I'd rather not just kill the bastard in cold blood. He's a dead man walking the second he joins the big leagues, but . . ." he shrugged.

"He hasn't yet." She beamed at him.

"No, not yet," he agreed.

"Fingers are very hard to heal, shattering the bones in his hands could keep him out for months," Hermione said thoughtfully. "Organs are also difficult." The girl scratched her chin. "I think there's a potion or something you can dump on him to make the wounds heal slower too."

"You're the best, Hermione," Harry said with a grin.

"I know," the girl agreed. "So how are you going to do this without the little." She grinned. "Shit weasel-"

"Hermione, language!" he scolded.

"Squealing on you," she finished.

"How long did it take to brew polyjuice again?" Harry asked with a grin.

"At least a month," Hermione replied. "But don't let that effect any planning you have to do, I've got some on hand."

"Really?!" he blurted out.

"Honestly, Harry. You really thought I wouldn't keep a store of such a useful potion around, especially when potions are so easy to keep?" Hermione snorted. "Sometimes I think you might be the most brilliant boy at Hogwarts and then you go and say something like that."

"Seems kind of obvious in hindsight, doesn't it?" he groaned. "Kind of like Lockheart being a fraud, all it would have taken to figure it out was a careful read of his books. Who do I know that likes to read again?" He glanced at his best friend. "Afraid I must be too dim to remember."

Hermione looked up from her book and stuck her tongue out at him for a few seconds before sucking it back into her mouth and going back to her reading.

"If that was supposed to be an insult, that's quite childish of you, Hermione. If that was an invitation, I can have my pants off and the door locked in less than a minute," Harry said with a grin.

"Did I come at a bad time?" Tonks asked hesitantly. The Auror was standing in the doorway, neither teen had heard her come in.

"Time to exercise?" Hermione asked brightly. "I suppose we'll have to put off seeing what you look like with your trousers off, Harry."

IIIIIIIIII

Ron had just left his father's office when one of his brother's fellow toadies fell into step with him. He tried ignoring the idiot, a Ravenclaw that had graduated three years before if he remembered right. But that proved to be impossible.

"How do you feel about the Minister, Ron?" the idiot asked.

"I bet he has a rough job, I sure wouldn't want to do it," Ron said, giving a variation of the answer his father had drilled into his head at a very young age. "Glad we have men like him that are willing to do it though."

"Wonderful, come with me," the idiot ordered.

"I gotta get home," Ron said quickly.

"This won't take long," the idiot assured him. "You're in luck, the Minister wants to meet you."

"Oh." Ron surreptitiously checked his wand. "I guess that's alright."

He followed the idiot down a couple passages to the Minister's office and cooled his heels outside while the idiot went in to report, coming out a few minutes later with a smug look on his face.

"The Minister will see you now," the idiot announced. "You can go right in."

"Good afternoon, Ron, I can call you Ron, can't I?" the Minister asked with an oily smile.

"I suppose," Ron agreed.

"Now then, I'm sure you're wondering why I asked my aides to fetch you?"

"Just a bit," Ron said, deciding to keep his comments to a minimum.

"Do you know what being the Minister means, Ron?" Fudge asked, not waiting for the boy to answer, he continued. "It means that you're chosen because you know the best way to direct the government. That's why the best, smartest, most skilled man is given the job." Fudge put his arm around Ron's shoulder. "Unfortunately, not everyone understands that as well as you do."

"They don't?" Ron prompted, wishing the idiot would just get to the bloody point.

"No, either because they're misguided or because they're evil, they decide to go against the Ministry." Fudge shook his head sadly. "That's why I asked you to be shown in. I need your help."

"You do?"

"Dumbledore has decided to turn your friend Harry away from the Ministry," Fudge confided. "Poor boy, I don't blame him for not seeing the truth, the Headmaster of a school must seem like a great figure to someone like him, considering the fact that he had the misfortune to be raised in the muggle world. Never learned the proper respect due the Minister like purebloods do."

"Oh." Seemed safely neutral.

"That's why I need your help, I need you to keep an eye on Harry, to guide him, to teach him about the Ministry." Fudge smiled.

"You want me to spy on Harry?" Ron said bluntly.

"Not spy, guide. As I said, the poor boy grew up in the muggle world and never learned how things are done. He needs a guide, Ron, that's why I came to you."

"I don't know," Ron said doubtfully. "Sounds like an awful lot of work."

"You didn't think I'd expect you to do this for nothing, did you?" Fudge asked, recognizing the boy's words for what they were. "How does five hundred galleons a month sound?"

"Sounds like it's not much considering the fact you want me to betray . . . excuse me, guide my best friend for you," Ron replied. "I don't think I could do it for less than three thousand a month. Every month upfront and six months of pay as a starting bonus of course."

IIIIIIIIII

Harry blessed the jump rope as mankind's greatest invention as he watched the girls use theirs. It was times like this that he felt there truly was a benevolent god that wanted him to live a happy life. Those times were, unfortunately outnumbered by the more numerous times that he felt that he'd attracted the attention of a malevolent deity intent on making him fate's bitch. Such was life he supposed.

"What's next?" Tonks asked as she finished her routine.

"An hour on the heavy bag," the portrait replied.

IIIIIIIIII

Ron stepped out of the Minister's office with a large burlap sack in one hand and a document folder in the other. He could probably have made a better deal, but that would have meant suffering the idiot's presence for longer. It was an important lesson for a boy to learn, the lesson that some things weren't worth putting up with for any amount of money.

He went down to the public floos and called home to tell his mum that he'd be a while getting back. Then, with a grin on his face, he was off to Diagon to do a bit of shopping.

After a few stops at a few stores, Ron had procured everything he wanted to have available in the near future and caught the Knight Bus to the depressing abode that Harry was currently calling home.

Ron walked through the front door and darted up the stairs to the library, sure that he'd find his best friend with his nose in a book and determined to get the other boy out of it for a spell. All that studying couldn't be healthy.

"Hey, Ron," Harry greeted the ginger as he walked in.

"Catch," Ron said, tossing a large leather bag.

"What's this?" Harry asked, deftly snatching the bag out of the air.

"Fifteen hundred galleons, your share of the bribe Fudge offered me to spy on you for him," Ron replied. "Got another sack for Hermione."

"She's in the shower," Harry said automatically. "Fudge gave you a bribe?"

"Yeah, mate, he really doesn't like you for some reason." Ron plopped down in a chair. "I'm also allowed to do magic this summer, got a couple books for Hermione, a promotion for dad, and a few other things."

"Good work," Harry said with a grin. "Why are you sharing?"

"You'd do the same and so would Hermione," Ron replied with a shrug. "Sides, only reason the idiot was willing to give me a bribe is because I'm your mate so it's only fair to share with you."

"Thanks, Ron," Harry said with a wide grin.

"Don't mention it, mate." Ron belched loudly. "Got any snacks?"

"Nope," Harry said glumly. Hermione was still rationing the amount of delicious snack cakes she was allowing him to consume on the grounds that they couldn't be healthy. Sometimes it didn't pay to have a bossy bookworm as his pusher.

"S'what I figured," Ron said, pulling out a large bag. "So I brought some along."

"You think of everything, mate," Harry said with a grin.

Ron tore open the bag to reveal a mass of writhing black beetles as a sticky sweet smell permeated the air.

"Is that what they're supposed to look like or did bugs get into it?" Harry asked, trying to decide if he should be sick or hungry.

"S'what they're supposed to look like," Ron replied. The boy grabbed a handful of the writhing insects and crammed it into his mouth.

"Okay," Harry agreed. He grabbed a slow moving beetle and bit off the head. "Tastes a bit like . . ." he trailed off, trying to find the right words to describe the mix of sweet, savory, salty, and other.

"Great, ain't they?" Ron agreed. "Heard you were learning to fight," Ron punctuated the question with a loud belch.

"Every morning with Tonks and Hermione," Harry agreed. "You want in?"

"Can't do it in the morning, maybe after we get back to Hogwarts," Ron suggested, shoving another handful of writhing insects into his mouth.

"What in the world are you eating?" Hermione's disgusted voice announced her presence. The girl's normally uncontrollable hair was hanging limp and wet, her face frozen into an expression of profound distaste.

"Sweet, smoked beetlenuts," Ron replied. "Want some?" He waved the bag in the girl's general direction.

"Ug, no." She recoiled. She opened her mouth to admonish the boy and closed it with a snap. As disgusting as they were, they were still better than the chemical horrors that Harry had taken a liking to.

"More for me," Ron said with a shrug. The boy reached into his pocked and pulled out another sack. "Here you go, hermione," he said, handing it to her. "S'your share."

"My share of what?" she asked.

"Of the bribe I took from Fudge to spy on Harry," Ron explained. "Also got some books you might want to look at. Fudge had a bunch of them up in his office to make people think he wasn't a dullard or something."

"Oh . . . thank you, Ron." Hermione accepted her share of the vig with a smile.

"No problem, Hermione," Ron said, cramming another writhing handful into his mouth. "You'd ha' done the same if you got bribed, right."

"I'd have turned it down and stormed out," the girl admitted. "Your way is much better. Good thinking, Ron."

"Figured he'd have done something like had my memories wiped if I said no, also figured that it'd be better to know who was spying for the idiot in chief than to not know anyone was spying," Ron said modestly.

"Also good thinking," Harry agreed. He glanced at the clock. "Why look at the time." The boy turned to Hermione with an obscene look of lust on his face. "I believe you promised me something."

"Damn it, Harry," Hermione huffed. "These disgusting things can't be good for you." The girl withdrew from her purse a cellophane package containing two gold, sausage shaped cakes.

"What's that?" Ron asked.

"The food of the gods," Harry said reverently. "I . . . would you like to try one of them?" he finished hopefully, always eager to find another convert.

"Sure," Ron agreed. He never turned down a chance to try a new food.

Harry carefully opened the package and offered one to his best mate with the reverence the situation required before cramming the other into his mouth with a look of profound contentment.

Ron took a cautious bite and immediately grimaced, a second later he was leaned over the waste paper basket and spitting out the second most horrible thing that had ever befouled his mouth.

"Something wrong?" Harry asked.

"Ug." It was taking every ounce of Ron's willpower to keep from vomiting at the foul taste that lingered on his tongue. "Hate to tell you, mate, but I think your . . ." What in the devil had Harry called it? "Cake thing has gone bad."

"What?" Harry asked, a frown creasing his brow. The boy took the yellow sponge cake from his friend and took a sniff. "Smells okay." The sniff was followed by a cautious bite. "Tastes fine too."

"And you willingly eat those things?" Ron asked slowly.

"You got something to say, say it," Harry said flatly. The boy crammed the rest of the cake into his mouth.

"It's just . . . you willingly eat those things?" Ron repeated, unable to wrap his mind around it. "Are they like potions? Taste horrid but dead useful?"

"You must have ate it wrong," Harry replied. "Maybe if you tried another . . .

"Look at the time," Ron interrupted. The boy glanced at the clock. "I gotta go, don't want mum worrying about me." He spun on his heel and headed towards the door.

"Bye, Ron," Hermione said.

"Later, mate," Harry echoed.

Hermione waited till they were alone to fix her best friend with a harsh glare.

"Yes?" he prompted.

"You asked me if I'd noticed anything off about you," Hermione began.

"Yes?" Harry prompted.

"You persist in using a number of awful americanisms which, I am ashamed to admit, due to close contact with you have begun infecting my speech. It's horrid and you had better hope that my mother never hears me say one of them by mistake or there will be hell to pay." The woman would not be happy to learn that all the money she'd spent on enunciation lessons for her daughter had gone to waste.

AN: Figured it was high time I got this off my HD.

Polish by: dogbertcarroll