Chapter 6: Fears Revealed

Ginny felt genuinely felt happy for her. The two girls chatted away for quite some time, enjoying a momentary distraction from life's insanity.

Kingsley was already awake and reading the newspaper when Harry came down for breakfast. Kreacher was already fussing over the table he had set a few minutes previously. 'How are you feeling Harry?' He asked solicitously joining him for breakfast. 'I'm fine,' Harry said vaguely. 'You know you didn't have to stay. Did you sleep at all last night?' He asked Kingsley. 'It was three in the morning when we finished with the paperwork,' Kingsley snorted. 'I thought it more prudent to stay. Gawain had better places to be.'

'Is something wrong?' Harry eyed Kingsley critically. 'You're asking me?' Kingsley inquired incredulously. 'That wasn't the point. I was just trying to help. Is it a state secret then? Did Doge say something?' Kingsley cut off Harry looking genuinely worried. 'Nothing like that, Harry. My worry was of somewhat more personal nature.' He laughed ruefully. 'The Prophet has started concocting even more fanciful stories to explain your absence from public.' Harry looked pained but was not to be distracted easily. 'I don't mind their amusement by far, Kingsley. The truth is far too mundane for selling so they spice it up by these… unfounded rumours. You still didn't answer my question.'

'I see there is no getting out of this. Very well, I'm having serious doubts about my career choice. As the minister, I've already had to make so many compromises. Leto Nott is after my life to pass some legislation which would make it harder for werewolves to gain employment. And he knows that I need his support to keep the pureblood faction satisfied. Blast him. Doge is helping but a single man has his limits. Goblins don't want to negotiate without you. And,' Kingsley almost ground out the last part, 'there is the matter of the traitor. I keep suspecting anyone and everyone.' He continued rather glumly.

Harry considered his words for a moment. 'I'll be happy to negotiate with the goblins if it solves any problems. I'm sorry I can't help with the matter of Nott. But Kingsley, you'll have to live with the realities of being the minister, even if that's hard. As for suspicions, you'd be remiss in your duty both as an auror and the minister if you didn't suspect everyone. Sanjeev was educated in India, was he not? Where was he, the last year? Where are his loyalties? Boot is an old pureblood family. What if blood is thicker than oaths, eventually? Adrian and Andrew are too young. What if they are manipulated or gave away information mistakenly? Anthony Jones is very diplomatic. What if he has something to hide? Who would pay attention to the quiet, shy Rebecca? She'll make the perfect spy. And Mr. Robards worked at the ministry last year, didn't he? What if the Death Eaters have some hold over him? What if it's none of them? What if it's me? Maybe I don't like the current minister and want someone different. After all, who will suspect the great Harry Potter?'

Harry uncharacteristically giggled at the last statement. Kingsley sighed and let out a chuckle. 'If you want someone else, you don't need to go through with the elaborate conspiracy. I want to resign as it is. And listing off the reasons isn't helping.'

'My point, Kingsley, was that you cannot let your suspicions take over your life. I know betrayal hurts. I've been betrayed enough times to know. It is not, however, a reason to hurt yourself. Do you understand me?' Harry was in earnest. Kingsley nodded his understanding. Harry poured himself a cup of coffee. Before he could sip it, however, Kreacher appeared in front of him. 'Master Harry, you must let Kreacher check the coffee. Kreacher is getting lax in his duties. Master Harry eats so little.' Kreacher muttered and tasted the coffee and pronounced it fit for Harry. Harry, puzzled, took a sip. 'You do understand Kreacher, don't you? I won't punish you if the food isn't the right temperature or something.'

'I don't think Kreacher was worried about the taste of food. This coffee was made by me. He was checking it for poison. A lot of old families used their house elves for that purpose sadly.' Kingsley's voice was displeased. Harry's face drained of the little colour he had gained. 'I didn't order him to. I would never. Kreacher, you don't have to do this, you understand.' Kreacher gave Harry a dark look and took his leave muttering a hasty 'Yes, Master.' Kingsley on the other hand tried to pacify Harry about how he was not to blame. It was easy to see that house-elf ownership made Harry very uncomfortable but freeing Kreacher would have been equally unkind.

'So, how are my aunt and uncle? I did contact Hestia who told me they were about to move back to Privet Drive?' Harry tried to change the topic. Kingsley seized the topic gratefully. 'Yes, they are. Though I have heard that your cousin is intending to move out soon for his higher studies. I must confess that Hestia was quite eager to get rid of your relatives.' Harry snickered. 'Tell me about it. Hestia must be a paragon of patience to be able to deal with them for a whole year.' Kingsley gave a weak smile. 'Hestia is the most patient lady I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. Would you like to meet your relatives then? Privet Drive, you understand, was extensively ransacked by the Death Eaters. Our protective enchantments held so the house was intact but the inside… It is my duty as the minister to offer reparations.'

Though Kingsley had phrased the words as a question, Harry understood the unspoken plea behind them. Kingsley did not want to deal with the Dursleys alone. 'Sure, when?' He asked automatically. 'Day after tomorrow. In fact, since we're talking of reparations, I need your permission for something. Mrs. Malfoy has been quite generous with her donations. We have also confiscated some dead Death Eaters' vaults who had no direct descendants. But as far as Bellatrix Lestrange's vault was concerned, some of it went to Rabastan since he is still alive. The goblins are quite adamant in that regard. Her dowry however cannot go to him in absence of a specific will by her. On her death, it reverts to the house of Black. So as the heir both by blood and will to the house of Black, we need your permission to use it.'

Harry stared at him, gaping. 'Give it away as compensation to any victims you want to. I definitely don't want her money. Just add Hermione's name to the victims' list. Bellatrix tortured her. I'm sure she deserves some compensation after that.'

'Noted,' Kingsley nodded. 'Another matter, Harry. The Wizengamot wanted a public ceremony, just hear me out, please.' He raised his hands placatingly. 'It's just an announcement for your Order of Merlin, first class.' Harry interrupted him furiously, 'absolutely not, Kingsley. I won't accept. Not without Ron and Hermione. And a great many more people.' Kingsley exhaled. He composed himself and spoke again, 'Harry, work with me here. I know you don't like it but you are a symbol of hope and peace. Without you, people's faith in the ministry will be shaken easily. All that we are trying to accomplish can collapse like a pack of cards. You and I may agree with the fact that many others deserve credit. But convincing Wizengamot will be harder. In fact, go talk to the Wizengamot and tell them what you have just told me? Try and persuade them. Take the seat in Wizengamot that is legally yours. You can vote for the medals that way. Your own has already been approved.'

Harry was still angry. 'Fine! Maybe I will.' It was long after Kingsley had left for the Ministry that Harry calmed down to realize that making him angry was his intention all along. To give him something to fight for.

The Dursley family had just moved back to Number 4, Private Drive the previous evening. Vernon Dursley had left to join his office early morning. Despite, those people's assurance, there was a lot of damage to their home by Petunia Dursley's standards. 'Dudley, bring the suitcase up quickly,' she told Dudley sharply. 'Yes, mum. Here,' Dudley brought the said suitcase and kept it on the bed. 'Mum, I'm going down to the lawn. The weeds have grown frightfully. I'll check out what needs trimming.' He told her anxiously. Petunia waved him off with a 'Be careful, Darling.'

He hadn't been weeding long when two expensive looking cars stopped on the driveway. Confused, he called for his mum. As far as he knew, they weren't expecting anyone today. Mum isn't going to be happy at having important visitors, he thought amused. Petunia had come outside in the lawn and was watching the cars with mild apprehension. That's when the penny dropped. Harry, his cousin walked out of the door accompanied by a tall, dark-skinned man with a bald pate. Petunia sucked in her breath.

'You! After all that we went through because of you, you have the audacity to come here?' She hissed. 'Aunt Petunia, it's not what you think,' Harry began only to be stopped mid-sentence. 'Out! Out! How dare you step foot here?' Aunt Petunia was shrieking. Dudley shook his head. 'Mum, you're making a scene. Please just let them say what they have come here for. The sooner you let them say their piece, the sooner it'll be over.'

Petunia Dursley rolled her eyes. 'Fine, be quick about it. I warn you though, I'm not letting you enter the house to get any stuff. Ungrateful brat, after we fed you and housed you for seventeen years,' she murmured spitefully. Dudley glanced at the two visitors. Harry did not react. His companion had a glint in his eye but his expression had a schooled neutrality. Harry introduced his companion as 'Minister Kingsley' who was visiting to offer compensation for the trouble their family went through during the war. This mollified Petunia somewhat. They started finalizing the details of the money order to which Dudley was only half listening.

He was jolted back to the present as his mum was ushering the unwelcome visitors out of the gate. 'Goodbye, Aunt Petunia. Hope our paths will never cross again,' Harry was saying cheerfully. Petunia didn't reply but turned to enter the house. Dudley was still standing at the gate. Uncharacteristically, he turned to talk to Harry. 'How have you been, Harry?' He enquired politely. Harry gave him a suspicious glance but answered anyway. 'I'm fine, Dud. You on the other hand seemed to have done your body a favour.'

Dudley laughed self-consciously. 'Well. Yes. I've taken up boxing. I even played for my school. Listen, I'm sorry about mum…' Harry waved away the apology. 'Well, I'd be going to the Uni in a couple of months. I know, I know… seems like a miracle. But well, give my thanks to the nice lady. Hestia, her name was, I think. She arranged everything for us. From Dad's job transfer to my schooling. Believe me, we weren't the best of housemates. I was able to work on my A levels though.' Harry was smiling at the end of Dudley's awkward speech.

'Sure, I will. Can I ask what are you going for? And where?' He asked. Dudley flushed. 'Finance. From Imperial.' He looked embarrassed. 'That's great, Dud.' Dudley swallowed again. 'I'd like to keep in touch if you don't mind. Mum and Dad, well they are all I've got. But once I settle in with my roommates…' Harry gave him a huge grin. He gave Kingsley a meaningful look and scribbled something on a piece of paper. 'Here,' he said holding out the paper. Any letter addressed would reach me eventually. I know how to use the post but I imagine Aunt Petunia would not take kindly to such correspondence at Privet Drive?' Harry's lips quirked upwards. 'Only too true,' Dudley admitted carefully. 'I'll tell you my college address. I'll get the letters somehow,' he promised. 'Alright Dudley. See you soon,' Harry waved cheerfully, more genuinely than he had for Aunt Petunia. 'Yeah, bye,' Dudley waved and watched the two cars drive off.

Harry spent the next few days going in and out of the ministry, liaising with the goblins and the Wizengamot. Harry had found Wizengamot paradoxically extremely suspicious or extremely eager to submit to his demands regarding the awards. He had spent many days speaking to Neville, Justin and other DA members, finding out the small and big acts of bravery which had had so much impact on the war. Over the last few days, his awe for both Neville and Justin had increased tremendously. He had not believed either of them capable of such leadership.

Augusta Longbottom had from the beginning tacitly supported his crusade while Madame Marchbanks had been more of a surprise. Another unexpected ally had been Abaraxus Warwick. He had initially been unhappy with at his daughter being honoured but had relented once he realized the details wouldn't be public. Now, he seemed to have thrown himself wholeheartedly into the campaign.

Kingsley had also started asking for more active co-operation from him in his nightly meetings. Sometimes, it was everyone or more commonly just Kingsley, Gawain and Sanjeev discussing the latest news about death eaters. On more than one occasion, he had been asked to identify potential criminals or ask for help from the Malfoys. It was on one such occasion that Kingsley asked him about Ron. 'He'll be back before June ends,' Harry told him. 'He's not taking the NEWTs but I am. He wanted to help me. He is also very eager to start his new job. Now that Hermione has decided to stay with her parents till September, he saw no point in waiting.'

'I'm glad to hear it then,' Kingsley had said beaming. 'We really need all hands on the deck.' While Harry had accepted most of these little works without complaint, one thing he flatly refused to do was giving any tell all interview. Kingsley had cajoled, threatened and bribed, all to no avail. 'Harry, you know what the Prophet is like. They will do their own research' he pleaded. 'You will not like the results then.' But Harry shook his head. 'I'll deal with that when it happens.'

The day came much sooner than Harry's expectations. He was extremely surprised when Kingsley visited him that morning, ashen faced with a fuming Gawain storming in after him. 'What's wrong?' Harry asked as Kingsley collapsed on the sofa. Concerned, he poured him some firewhisky. Kingsley took a large gulp but did not meet Harry's eyes. 'You didn't get attacked, did you?' Harry was steadily getting more alarmed. Still, Kingsley did not speak. Harry turned to Gawain who handed over a copy of the newspaper. 'Read,' he told him curtly. Harry unfurled the newspaper and gave an audible gasp. The first page was littered with old muggle photographs of him. Six years old, cowering against the hospital bed- that was the one time Uncle Vernon had hit him too hard. Seven year old, photographed for the school id- he hadn't known he looked so ill nourished. Nine year old, weeding the garden as if there was no tomorrow. There was even one of him at nearly eleven, at that infernal hotel when they had been running from his Hogwarts letters. The title read-

HARRY POTTER- THE HOUSE ELF: THE REAL STORY BEHIND THE BOY-WHO-LIVED

Harry grimly read on as the article described his aunt, uncle and cousin and his life before Hogwarts. They had even included the Cupboard under the stairs complete with the photograph of his little cot and the roof with the crudely scrawled Harry's room. He had done that when he was five. It spoke about the time he had needed medical attention, courtesy Uncle Vernon. There were interviews from the neighbours who had spoken about the imaginary St. Brutus' secure centre for the criminally insane children and the Aunt Marge incident. The report blamed everyone from Albus Dumbledore to the minister for magic. By the end of the article, Harry was grinding his teeth in both anger and despair.

'The ministry is surrounded by angry public out for blood. I thought it safer for the Minister to be here.' Gawain noted. 'Of course, of course,' Harry said distractedly. 'I'm going to Privet Drive,' Harry said resignedly. That brought Kingsley to his senses. 'Whatever for?' He asked astonished. Harry blinked. 'I'll check the protective enchantments. I'd rather not have my only living relatives murdered!'

'It won't be because of lack of people trying.' Gawain quipped sardonically. 'That's exactly what I'm afraid of.' Harry disapparated without looking back.

Once Potter had left, Gawain turned his attention to Kingsley. 'You knew, didn't you?'

'Know is a strong word, Gawain. I merely suspected. Not to this extent though.' Kingsley seemed to pull himself together. 'Come, my friend. Our work will not wait.' The two worked in an uneasy silence till they were disrupted by the arrival of Molly Weasley. 'Harry?' Her eyes fell on the two people working at the kitchen table. 'Kingsley, have you seen Harry?'

'Hello Molly! He has gone to Private Drive to check on his… relatives.' Kingsley spoke softly. 'It's not true, is it? The article in the Daily Prophet was extremely detailed.' Molly Weasley looked around anxiously. Kingsley's silence was answer enough. Molly bowed her head and sobbed. 'I wish I had believed them. They told me, you know. Ron and the twins. That there were bars across his window. That they were feeding him through a cat flap, starving him. I always though they were exaggerating. I wish I had paid attention now.' Molly sobbed even harder. 'Now, now Molly. We cannot blame ourselves. What has happened has happened. All we can do is take care of him now. Give him all the love in the world he did not as a child.' Kingsley himself looked rather downcast. But Kingsley soon returned to his work and Molly Weasley went into the kitchen to prepare dinner. The kitchen soon filled with the smells of Molly Weasley's delicious cooking. Gawain had to agree that presiding over the kitchen, Molly Weasley looked remarkably maternal.

Gawain had nearly finished with the document he was working on when he heard the ear-piercing scream. Molly Weasley was knelling on the kitchen floor, sobbing uncontrollably. Next to her lay a bloody body, specifically the dead body of Harry Potter. Gawain's head was buzzing. Did the boy meet unexpected trouble on the way back? Kingsley was bending over the body, checking for any sign of life. Pointless, Gawain knew. Molly Weasley was too far gone to notice her surroundings. Even Kingsley was trembling, dazed. In his peripheral vision, Gawain saw the flames in the fireplace turn green. Blast! Was the unknown visitor a friend, enemy or what? How were they going to explain this… Wait! The visitor looked like… Harry Potter? The visitor surveyed the scene astonished. Gawain heard a sharp intake of breath. Then suddenly he was charging at the dead body. 'It's alright, Mrs. Weasley. I'm alright. Expecto Patronum.' The body abruptly changed into a dementor.

A boggart! Gawain understood. Harry had by then confined the boggart-dementor to one of the empty kitchen cupboards and was now coaxing Molly Weasley into a chair. Gawain turned his attention to Kingsley who was getting up. He still looked completely shocked and shivering. Potter was still comforting Molly but the house elf, he had forgotten what he was called, was standing next to him with a steaming mug of hot chocolate.

Ten minutes later, all four of them were seated in the kitchen, drinking the hot chocolate. While Harry Potter surveyed the three of them with wry resignation. 'Mrs. Weasley, do you want me to take you to the Burrow? Are you sure you should be apparating or flooing after…' Molly Weasley looked mortified. 'Harry, dear, you know you don't have to. I was just worried about you after…' She suddenly deflated. 'I wanted to be sure that what the Daily Prophet wrote wasn't true.' There was a catch in her voice Gawain couldn't quite make out. Potter shifted uncomfortably and looked away. Judging by the boy's expressions, what the Prophet had found was certainly true.

'Did Albus…' Kingsley did not finish his question. Potter looked even more ill at ease. 'The cupboard and starving, yes. He talked to them, in my sixth year. You did know that part, I guess? The part about Uncle Vernon hitting me to punish accidental magic, I don't think so. I'm not sure what he would have done, if he knew. Uncle Vernon didn't dare to do much after Hogwarts, and especially after Sirius. Hearing about Ariana, well, better that Dumbledore never knew. It would have hurt him.'

'Hurt him,' Kingsley laughed, a bit hysterically. 'You were the one being hurt!'

'It had to be for the first eleven years,' Potter spoke reflectively. 'I mean think about it, Death Eaters at large wanting to kill me and families vying for my custody. Yeah, that would be a disaster. After that, I'm not sure. I mean, sure I wasn't actually very safe at Hogwarts but my summers… Most of my summers at Burrow were perfectly uneventful.' He shook his head dismissively. 'This goes for both of you. The past is past after all. It's a part of my past I don't really want to discuss. And I had better talk to Ron. If he's read the Prophet, he'd be going ballistic. He might even have made Hermione break her no magic promise.'

'A minute Harry dear. I came to invite you,' Molly was speaking. 'Invite me?' Harry asked. 'Well, you have never had a birthday celebration before. And both Ron and George are coming home. Ginny's birthday will also fall in the middle of her exams. I wanted to have a small family gathering on 31st. I know it isn't much but I just wanted my family together.' The hope in Molly's voice was hard to ignore. Gawain could see the indecision and struggle on Potter's face. Finally, he relented. 'I'll be there, Mrs. Weasley. Thank you so much for caring for me.' Molly just patted the boy's cheek affectionately. 'Take care, dear.' Molly disapparated and the rest of them dispersed, trying to focus on their tasks.

It was far too late to return home when Gawain finally managed to get through his latest stack of papers. Kingsley had gone to sleep in one of the spare bedrooms. Gawain sincerely hoped that he would be able to catch some sleep despite the evening episode. A lot of their late nights tended to end in this manner these days. Kingsley had spent more nights at Grimmauld Place than his own home in the last month. As for himself, he wasn't sure where he had spent his own nights. As a young auror, he had been too busy to worry about home and at the age of forty six, without a wife, it had stopped mattering. It was one of the reasons he had stayed as auror the past year, occasionally passing on titbits of information.

Almost anyone he cared about had been a work colleague. Kingsley, he wasn't sure about. He had lost his parents in the last war, something which had affected the studious Ravenclaw's career choice. Yet to risk everything again in the war, that to Gawain felt like madness. He had initially thought that it had been because Kingsley simply did not have anyone he cared for. How had he not noticed his friendship with Arthur Weasley and his brood? And how he had he missed Harry Potter, someone Kingsley seemed to care about almost like a father? Gawain's brooding was interrupted by a soft sound near the staircase. He had his wand out in an instant, and was pointing it at… Harry Potter? This time he wasn't nearly as surprised to see Potter's wand being pointed at him. 'I'm sure Kingsley would notice if he had to give away the secret again, but where did we first meet Mr. Robards?' Potter asked him.

'Gawain lowered his wand uncertainly. 'Here, at Grimmauld Place. You verified Kingsley that time too.' Potter lowered the wand and let out a laugh. 'Moody must be proud of us now. Jumping at imaginary demons inside a secure house.' Gawain blinked. Did the boy think him devoid of all decency and compassion? Did he think that anyone, especially an auror, would take offence? Potter moved to take out a couple of bottles of butterbeer. 'May I, Mr. Robards? I would offer you one but I do not think offering butterbeer to head auror would be appropriate.'

Gawain was becoming uneasier by the second. 'It's your house, Potter. We should be apologizing for making a guest house out of it. I'd prefer the butterbeer if you're offering though.' Gawain wasn't sure why he said that but Potter smiled and poured two glasses, handing one to him. 'I don't usually try to drown my problems at the bottom of a bottle, Mr. Robards.' Gawain snorted. 'You couldn't get drunk on that stuff if you tried. Calm down, lad. I wasn't accusing you of anything.' On an impulse he added, 'Kingsley said you wanted to be an auror, once?' After all, Gawain wasn't blind to the fact that the lad was capable. And he would be a public asset to restore trust in his department after last year's fiasco. 'He would. I think I drove him and poor Tonks mad with my incessant questions.' Potter managed a strained smile. 'Do you know that Minister Scrimengeour threatened me with a meeting with you?' Gawain didn't understand his meaning. 'He threatened to have you arrested by the aurors? And you believed that he could do that to the Chosen One without a huge political fallout.'

'Believe me Mr. Robards, at that time I thought the Minister capable of anything. At thirteen, I believed the Minister capable of throwing me in Azkaban over accidental underage magic and Fudge proved me right. I was only off by two years or so.' Gawain flinched. He hadn't forgotten the smear campaign against Potter and Dumbledore. 'You wrong Rufus,' he felt obliged to point out. 'He was among the loudest voices opposing Fudge along with Madame Bones when the hearing happened. He and Amelia tried there best to investigate the dementors in Surrey. That was when the penny dropped for a lot of ministry employees that something was wrong. I worked with him, lad. While he was no idealist like Kingsley, he bore the Death Eaters no love. You would have agreed with many of his goals if you had thought to work with him.' Gawain spoke sadly, lost in memories of the man whom he had served as a second in command for longer than he could remember. 'I know he was a good man,' the boy said softly. 'He, with others, fought to kept the ministry running till my seventeenth birthday so that I could be free of trace. His last act was protecting my whereabouts under torture. I know he was a good man, whatever our differences.'

Gawain looked at the boy. He had hidden half his face in his hands. 'Tell me, Mr. Robards, why did you join the aurors? And why did you keep working last year?' Gawain contemplated his words. He realized he didn't really want to lie. 'Why did I join the aurors? Because it was as good a career as any. I was good at the job and I felt it would make some difference. You have to understand Potter, being an auror is more than a dark wizard catcher. It is also cold nights in the rain looking for the slightest evidence of murder. It is about seeing youngsters casting curses for fun and panicking when it all goes wrong. About drunken wizards assaulting young witches in ways you would rather not think about. Yes, DMLE does a lot of work, but eventually, the cases reach our tables. I stayed in part because I had nothing to lose by staying. I am no idealist unlike Kingsley. Sometimes I feel we recruit too young. But you didn't see the last war lad. I lost no one close to me but you cannot know how helpless I felt then. I couldn't be like that, not this time.'

Gawain wondered what the boy would think of him now but he ploughed on. 'But all of these reasons only made me decide to stay. Why I did stay despite knowing the atrocities the Death Eaters were perpetrating? Because I felt that the elderly half-bloods' who had their life's income stolen deserved better than dealing with death eaters. Because the young witches, even pure-blood ones, did not ask to be groped by strangers in the pub. Because even Snatchers could at least be arrested if they created too much trouble. And, yes, because staying was easier than leaving and I am no saint. I am no hero Potter, not like you and Kingsley. What I am and will be to the best of my abilities is the Head Auror.'

Potter merely smiled. 'Thank you for sharing, Mr. Robards.' Gawain saw the opportunity. Perhaps he could ask a few of the questions which had been worrying him for quite some time. 'An answer for an answer Potter. What do you want from Kingsley?' Potter's eyebrows shot up. Then for some reason, he laughed, looking genuinely amused. 'What do I want from Kingsley? Mr. Robards, I do not think I've ever showed any interest in wanting anything from him. As a Minister, I support Kingsley and his goals. I care little for politics, Mr. Robards but let me tell you that I am not in a habit of throwing my friends under the bus. While my acquaintance with Kingsley is admittedly briefer than yours, I would like to think that we are friends.'

Gawain groaned. 'That's exactly what I worry about. Kingsley is very stubborn and very loyal. It is going to lead him into trouble sometime or the other.' Potter sighed. 'I promise you, Mr. Robards, I will not willingly cause trouble for him. The incident today was… unfortunate. But Kingsley wasn't the minister then and I'm sure it can be used as an opportunity to investigate the ministry practices, no?' Gawain hated to admit it but Potter was right. Kingsley had come out on top today by his stance on weeding out the corruption from the Ministry. 'You are angry with your friend,' the boy accused. Gawain winced. 'I suppose you could say that. I am angry with him. Why did he have to join the order at all? What did he gain by that stunt of his? Bing the Minister! He would have been that regardless. I would have liked to hand over the job to him and retire. But he needed to be a war hero of course. And the way he cares about you; I fear he will get himself in trouble sooner or later.'

Gawain had expected a vehement defence. But it did not come. Instead, his whole demeanour slumped. 'Perhaps you should tell him that,' he told him hoarsely. 'People, who care about me have a history of suffering most painfully. I tried to stop them you know, Ron and Hermione. But they wouldn't listen.' He trailed off as if relieving some particularly unpleasant memories. Gawain was horrified. It was one thing to think about it in the privacy of his own mind, but to hear it from the lips of a haunted seventeen year old…

'Do you have no one you love then? Do you mean to say that at the age you are, you never thought of dating?' Gawain wanted to know. 'Oh, I love her alright,' Potter promised. 'Enough to let her live her life without my shadow hanging over her. Have you ever loved someone like that?' Gawain's heart contracted. It was impossible to talk to this boy for any length of time and not feel pity for his trainwreck of a life. 'My Nellie is a muggle and knows better than to ask for marriage. She knows the dangers of an auror's wife well. And I couldn't ask her to leave her muggle job. Then there are her two boys to worry about. But she also knows I love her and that we are meant to be together. Just think about that.' He examined potter's face for a few more moments. It seemed that he too had a lot to think about.

A/N: To all those who are following the story, Thank you. You're all precious for me and I'm sorry about not updating sooner. But this chapter was difficult for me as well as some real life problems meant I couldn't write as often. Please people, if you liked reading it, review. That would mean quicker updates ;) I know this is a heavy chapter, but I promise the next ne is going to be fluffy and romantic. As for Kingsley's boggart, he feels slightly guilty about not doing enough but he is definitely not ready to admit it yet. Gawain, meanwhile might learn a thing or two about different viewpoints. See you soon.