Apprentice Potter
Potter v Ministry
By Draco664
Potter v. Ministry
Percy had both changed and not changed. The smug, insufferable air was still well fixed in place, but he had lost weight, and his hair had begun receding quite starkly. He looked as though he was in his mid-thirties at least, his tired eyes accentuating the differences.
"Mr. Potter. The Minister has requested that I escort you to his office immediately."
I tilted my head to one side and studied him further without answering. Fred's spluttering in the background gave Percy something to focus on rather than me, and I took full opportunity of the distraction.
I had been so angry at Percy last year, both for the way he treated me and the letter he wrote to Ron. But Zab's influence had started to change me too; now, I looked before I acted, thought before I jumped.
"Fred, why don't you leave Percy and I alone? We have a few things to discuss."
"Harry, you can't do magic out of school to defend yourself."
I snorted. "Fred, I'm not going back to school, so I don't really care. As for defending myself against him, he's been sitting behind a desk for two years doing some painfully useless work. Unless he attempted to bore me into submission, I hardly think he could even overcome a third year student now," I delivered in a monotone, while staring straight into Percy's eyes.
Fred chuckled softly, and left without further words, but did signal to me with his hands before leaving the room.
Percy's eyes had flashed with anger at my insult, but he kept his cool, disinterested expression firmly in place. "Mr. Potter, I have a portkey here that will transport us-"
"Then take it, go, and tell your precious Minister that I'm alive and well."
"I'm afraid you will need to come with me."
"No."
"This isn't a request."
"Am I under arrest?"
That brought him up short. "No, of course not!"
"Then what makes you think that I give a shit what Fudge insists upon, but doesn't request?"
"He's the Minister! He deserves respect!" Percy said firmly, spittle flying from his mouth.
"He's an idiot, he deserves contempt," I retorted.
Percy tilted his head back. "I see. I was right about you."
I grinned at him with no humour. "The way you were right about Voldemort returning? The way you were right about Umbridge in that letter you wrote to Ron?"
His right eye twitched. "She claims to have been under the influence of the Imperius Curse, so-" he said, ignoring my first question.
I held up a hand. "Isn't that the excuse Lucius Malfoy used fifteen years ago after Voldemort blew himself into dust trying to kill me? Please tell me you don't still believe that one."
His eye twitched again. "Mr. Potter, the Minister-"
"Harry!" I spat at him, louder than he expected. "My name is Harry! I'm sure you know it."
"Mister. Potter, the Minister needs you to come with me to his office," Percy repeated, louder this time, to cover the startled jump he made. "There are certain questions he needs answered, and he also intends to make an announcement."
I rolled my eyes. "You think that delivering the same sentence in a louder voice will make me give in?"
Percy drew himself up to his full height. "The Minister was afraid of this."
I snorted. "Afraid of what?"
"That you would be uncooperative."
I shook my head. "I was afraid of this," I said, mimicking him.
Percy frowned. "What?"
"That you'd got more stupid over time. I honestly didn't think it was possible, but you've managed it."
"I am not stupid, Mr. Potter."
I raised my eyebrows as far up my forehead as they'd go. "Really? I tell you what, if you can answer some questions, I'll go with you to see Fudge."
Annoyance flickered across Percy's face, but there was curiosity there too. "Very well."
I smiled. "Excellent. Now, here is my first question, are you ready?"
Percy nodded.
"A public servant makes a series of massive errors of judgement in his first year of employment, one which indirectly leads to the death of his superior, even though he had been warned during the year of various-"
"That's enough!" he almost shrieked, looking paler than before.
"Why Percy, what on earth is the matter?" I sneered.
"Potter, I was cleared by a tribunal."
Ah, so you can call me something different when you have to. Interesting, your professionalism is not so iron clad when you are under pressure. "So? Malfoy and his cronies were cleared after Voldemort fell the first time, and we all saw how well that turned out."
"That was different-"
"Bullshit!" I spat. "The same players were involved, Percy. Crouch, Fudge, Malfoy, Avery, Nott, they were all there. And now, fifteen years later, they're all involved again. And guess what? They've still got a tattoo on their arm!"
"That has nothing to do with me!" he challenged, sticking his chin out. It really made an inviting target. I resisted the urge to discover how satisfying it would be to hit it.
"Yet you are afraid of the question," I pointed out.
Again, the eye twitch betrayed his internal fight to remain calm and professional. With an internal grin, I wondered just how far I could push this pompous arse.
"Just, just come with me, please," he almost pleaded.
I shook my head, with no trace of a smile. "No. I don't trust you; you believe any idiotic idea fed to you by a superior, no matter how untrue. I don't trust Fudge either. Minister or not, I will not put my safety in the hands of someone who, just a couple of months ago, was friends with Lucius Malfoy. A man who has sworn to kill me." I gave him a winsome smile. "Anyway, you haven't answered my questions."
Percy set his lips. "If you don't trust me, Mr. Potter, why would you go with me even if I answer your questions?"
I let my smile disappear. "Because, you idiot, by answering them, I'll know whether or not you've changed enough that you are now, in fact, trustworthy."
That brought a frown to his face. "But, how?"
I rolled my eyes. "Just answer them, Percy. You'll figure it out."
He swallowed. "Very well, go ahead."
"All right, let's dispense with the euphemisms. You were warned, by several different people, that Crouch was acting strangely. You did nothing. Why? You can take your time in answering, if you like."
Percy rolled his tongue around in his mouth for a while, which surprised me. I had expected him to blurt out whatever self-deluding reason he had told himself at the time. I looked directly into his eyes, wondering just what was going on behind them. Slowly, as Percy thought to himself, the background colour in the room around him faded away, until Percy himself was the only coloured being in my sight.
"I'm not sure."
I was about to snort with derision, but I got a comforting sense of, well, truth. "Fair enough. What about at the time?"
Percy looked visibly uncomfortable. "I don't know."
This time, a clanging, disjointed sensation accompanied his announcement, almost shouting, lie! This time, I did snort. "Try again."
He swallowed. "I, I guess I didn't want there to be anything wrong."
Truth.
"Interesting. You can tell the truth when you need to," I said.
Percy almost snarled. "Is that all of your ridiculous questions?"
I shook my head. "No. What did Fudge tell you about the night after the third task of the Tournament?"
"Well, nothing."
Lie.
I narrowed my eyes.
"Well, nothing straight away," he clarified, looking abashed. Truth. "Um, do you have to look at me like that?" he asked, shifting his gaze and shuffling his feet.
Given that I was concentrating on him completely, I guess it must have been a little disconcerting. "Yes," I answered simply. "What did he tell you later?"
"Um, just that you claimed to have seen the Dark Lord reborn, and that you named several prominent wizards as Death Eaters."
Truth.
I grinned evilly. "Fudge was told a fair bit more than that. Shown stuff as well. Snape even showed him the Dark Mark on his arm, and told him that it had burned black, a summons from his old master. He was told about how Crouch smuggled his son out of Azkaban, which I suppose makes two escapees from that supposedly 'inescapable' prison. He was told how Crouch's son had admitted under Veritaserum to plotting to bring Voldemort back." I tilted my head to one side. "Did he tell you that he had a dementor kiss Crouch Jnr. before his testimony could be publicly heard?"
Percy blinked, a look of horror in his eyes. "No," he almost whispered.
An odd mixture of comfort and discourse followed that announcement. Lie and Truth.
"You mean, 'Not all of that', don't you Percy?"
He swallowed, but nodded.
My grin was still in place, obviously making him more than a little uncomfortable. "And do you know what he said, when presented with all this? 'He can't be back, Dumbledore, he just can't be...'," I said, mimicking Fudge's voice, probably badly. "Tell me, Percy. Does that sound like someone who didn't want there to be anything wrong?"
Percy coughed softly, but nodded.
Truth.
Interesting, I could get the impression of how truthful he was being even when he didn't say anything. "Do you remember the blood nose you got at the World Cup?"
Percy frowned. "Yes. How on earth is that relevant?"
"How did you get it?" I asked, ignoring him.
He coughed again, covering his mouth. "Is that really important?"
I shrugged. "That depends. Do you want me to trust you or not?"
He gave a little sigh. "Charlie and I got separated from Bill and," Percy stumbled a little here. "And my father. Charlie noticed something, and pushed me to the ground, saving me from a stray curse. A woman running around trying to find her child accidentally kicked me in the face while I was down," he finished, blushing.
Almost Truth.
Close enough, but he was probably quite embarrassed at the turn of events. Given what he just told me, I wouldn't be surprised. "Right, now, do you remember what the official Ministry line was after the debacle at the World Cup?"
"Yes," he said sullenly.
Truth.
"And?"
"What?" he challenged, suddenly back to being defensive.
I snarled at him. "Did the leaders in the Ministry sound like they didn't want there to be anything wrong?"
He stiffened, and squared his shoulders, drawing himself up straight. "Mr. Potter, you've made your point. Will you now come with me?"
I stood, and I'm quite sure my eyes were blazing. Now that my taunting had become boring, the familiar, and almost comforting, sensation of bubbling anger stoked in my belly. Colour rushed back into the world, and the instinctive information I was receiving from Percy's answers ceased. "Oh, you think so? You think I've made my point? You stand there and admit to yourself that Fudge did nothing to prevent the return of the most dangerous wizard in recent times, and you expect me to just present myself to him at the drop of a hat?" I spat.
Percy swallowed, biting back his first reply. "Your opinions of our Minister aside, he is the Minister, and as such, deserves respect."
Within my mind, I felt a truly startling dichotomy.
I could feel my anger, both the physical manifestations around me (like the trembling table behind me), and the internal effects, like my cheeks heating. But part of my mind became disassociated from it all, observing and cataloguing.
"He deserves NOTHING!" I shouted loudly, grabbing the armrest of the couch and heaving to one side. I let a little of both my anger and magic leak out through my hand. Percy's eyes betrayed his shock at seeing a slight figure like me hurl a heavy couch aside like it was paper maché.
I strode forward, closing the gap between us. "Fudge tried to get me expelled last year because I was inconvenient." I twisted to one side and jabbed my finger out towards him, pointing directly at his nose. "You helped him! If he had succeeded, Voldemort would have caught and killed me within a week!" I dropped my arm and rounded on him, stepping forward threateningly. "Tell me, Percy, how the hell do you respect a man who was willing to sacrifice me for his own political ends?" I shouted, my voice probably carrying into the next room quite easily.
Percy's jaw trembled. "We, we didn't know."
"Bullshit!" I spat, kicking out at the chair next to where I had been sitting, again letting my rage and magic seep out. It flew across the room, shattering against the wall. "You had been told. You had been told repeatedly! You just didn't listen! Don't you dare to claim ignorance!" I yelled in his face.
Percy took a couple of steps back. "Your claims were destabilising the Ministry," he said, his voice hollow.
"WHAT?" I bellowed, not quite believing what he just dared to say. "What the hell do you think the Ministry is there for?"
"To serve the wizarding world," he replied quickly.
I stopped suddenly, clenching my fists. The magical potential in the air grew, causing the furniture to tremble, much to Percy's discomfort. "You say that, but you sure as hell don't believe it. You stand there and claim that I need to show respect to someone merely due to his position, never mind the fact that he has put the entire country in danger with his actions, condemning hundreds to a death he could easily have prevented. You claim that the Ministry should be excused for its actions so far because it didn't know! But it did, Percy, the people in charge just stuck their fingers in their ears and sang lullabies to themselves." I leaned back, shaking my head. "No, I have nothing but contempt for the Ministry, and anyone who uses it to further their own political goals," I finished, my voice as cold as the December wind at Hogwarts, yet simmering with anger.
Percy somehow managed to get his wand in hand, despite trembling like the table behind me. "Please, Harry, calm down," he said, his voice wavering, his eyes fearful.
"Give me a reason, then. Give me one good reason why I should come with you."
Percy swallowed. "I already have, but you refuse to-"
"NO!" I shouted at the top of my lungs, sending cracks through the lenses of both our glasses. "It is you who refuse to recognise your actions. You have just admitted that there is a habit the Ministry and its leaders have, of wishing that there was nothing wrong. Of hoping with all their black little hearts that things will just stay the same. Tell me, Percy, honestly, is that a trait you actually want in people charged with maintaining the security of the wizarding world in a time of war?" I asked incredulously.
Something cracked in Percy's countenance, some small flaw in his pride and self-delusion. He struggled to rebuild the wall around his private little world, but the foundation was just no longer there.
"Tell me, Weatherby, exactly why do you respect Fudge? He's the only person in the Ministry who has stuffed up worse than you."
"Because, he is the Minister," he whispered, still struggling to maintain some semblance of control, but my use of the name Crouch used for him pushed him off balance again.
"That isn't respect!" I spat in his face. "That's sycophantical worship! You are nothing but a yes-man, a toady! Why do you think Fudge would want a failure like you around? Because you'll tell him what he want's to know!"
Percy shook his head, still in denial. "No. He recognised-"
I slashed my hand across the air in front of his face, startling him into silence. "Tell me something, idiot. If he had acted on what I told him, and force-fed Malfoy and the others veritaserum, and nipped this whole war in the bud, would you think he was worthy of respect?"
Percy blinked. "Of course."
I nodded. "Yeah. So would I." I snarled at him. "Dumbledore told him after the Tournament that if he did those things he would be remembered as one of the greatest Ministers the country ever had. But he didn't, and because of that, he's lost the respect of the wizarding world and I've lost-" I blinked and took a deep breath, willing the guilt to subside and the sudden lump in my throat to shift. Clutching onto the anger I felt helped wash the feelings of self-hatred away. But Percy needed to know just how much I had lost.
Feeling a lot more Slytherin-like than usual, I decided to push him even further. "So now you stand there, content that the Ministry you support if finally doing its job. Tell me, what is it like, knowing that a condemned criminal has been doing more against Voldemort than you?" I seethed, memories feeding my anger.
That snapped him back into reality. "What?" he asked, confusion evident.
"My godfather, who wasn't a Death Eater, was sent to Azkaban without a trial, while those with a tattoo burned into their bloody arm were free to go. By the very Ministry officials whose arse you kiss each and every day."
"Your godfather?" he asked, still confused.
He didn't know. Oh, this was going to be fun. "I'm sure you've heard of him."
"I wasn't aware you had a godfather," he said in a vaguely unsettled voice.
"Does the name 'Sirius Black' mean anything to you?" I asked with a smile of unholy glee on my face.
Percy took a step back, only to find he had backed all the way to the wall. "Sirius Black is your godfather?" he wheezed.
The smile disappeared quickly. Anger continued its slow boil in my stomach. "Was, Percy. Was."
"He's dead?" he said, hope in his voice. That tone caused a red veil to cover my sight, and I probably ground a few layers of enamel off my teeth by grinding them together.
I stepped forward until I was nose-to-nose with the middle Weasley. "Yes, he's DEAD! He died protecting me, Percy! You know, what the Ministry is supposed to do? He believed me when I said that Voldemort was back! That night at the Ministry, when Fudge and all his arse-kissing toadies were praying their pleasant little world wasn't going down the toilet, he was fighting wand for wand against Voldemort's most powerful followers," I said, in a low, level voice, barely concealing my anger.
"But, he, but he-" Percy stammered. "But he attacked Ron!"
I growled deep in my throat. "Because Ron was holding onto Peter Pettigrew, the real traitor who betrayed my parents."
"What?" asked Percy, linguistic genius.
"Remember a rat with a missing toe? The one you gave to Ron? The one that happened to be both an illegal animagus and a Death Eater?" I asked, my voice rising with each question.
"You- you mean, Scabbers?"
"Yes, Scabbers! Bloody hell, has even one of you bastards at the Ministry listened to what I've been saying?"
"B-but, Black was trying to kill you in my seventh year!"
I took a deep breath, and let my next sentence explode out with my rage. "He was trying to protect me! Sirius died for me, because the Ministry wouldn't live up to its obligation to protect the public. He died because your precious Fudge wouldn't admit to the world that Voldemort was back. He died because the Ministry didn't do its JOB!"
Percy's eyes raced around the room, and the air once again felt heavy. The odd, dispassionate separation of my mind and anger surfaced again. Once more, I could think without my rage clouding my mind. Perhaps Zab's methods of examining new phenomena were rubbing off on me.
"How do you think the world will view your precious Minister, when it comes out that someone incarcerated in Azkaban without a trial fought against Voldemort when no one in the Ministry would admit he was back? What do you think that says about you?" I growled. The soft, uncomprehending stare on this idiot's face just reinforced just how far removed he and the Ministry was from the sacrifices Sirius had made for me. I could feel my hair wave around, with no wind in the room to explain it.
"Mr. Potter, you need to calm down!" he almost yelped, raising his wand.
"Point that wand away from me or I'll shove it down your throat," I promised.
"Mr. Potter, I had no idea that you had a godfather, and I'm sorry for your loss," he said, not moving the wand from pointing between my eyes.
"Move your wand, Percy."
He swallowed. "Not until you calm down."
"Last chance," I said flatly.
"Not until-"
I grabbed the front of his robes, and swung him around like a toy. Just as a curse formed on his lips, I pushed him away, just like I'd done with Snape in the next room. Just like I'd done in the kitchen at Privet Drive.
He flew across the room as though I'd banished him, hitting the opposite wall hard enough to almost break through to the next shop. He left a deep impression at any rate, before falling to the floor in a crumpled heap, his wand rolling away. To my complete surprise, after a couple of seconds he groaned softly, and slowly pushed himself to his hands and knees. Must be that bloody thick skull of his.
Once more, I focused on him, boring my gaze into the back of his head. After a few moments of intense concentration, despite my anger, the world again lost its colour, leaving Percy's bright red hair and gaudy robes as the only objects with any hue in my vision. I watched as he managed to stand on exceedingly unsteady legs. One lens of his cracked glasses had come free, leaving one eye unfocused and unimpeded, the other behind a spider web of cracks.
I shook my head. "You are being used, Percy."
He blinked in an effort to focus, but was obviously beyond him at this point. "No, I'm not," he slurred.
Lie and Truth.
"Why would someone straight out of a scandal be offered a position in the Minister's office then?"
That snapped some vague spine into him. "Minister Fudge recognised my talent and ability!"
Lie.
I almost laughed out loud. "You lie even to yourself. You are absolutely pathetic." I slowly walked over to the trembling young man.
"No," he whispered, stepping backwards. Once more, he backed up into the wall.
It didn't take the discordant note in my mind to tell me that he didn't believe his own words. I glared at him with contempt, scorn filling my words. "You willingly gave up your family, something that I have never had and would give anything for. And exactly what have you gained? Scorn, ridicule, and contempt. Was abandoning them worth it?" I asked, forcing the reality of just what his family thought of him and his actions into his mind. I pushed through all the internal walls of denial and self-delusion. I burned the image of the truth into his mind, deep within.
A look of absolute horror crossed Percy's features. He fell to his knees, his trembling legs no longer able to support him. With an explosive breath that I hadn't been aware I was holding, I let the colour return to the world. It took a couple of seconds for me to catch my breath, while I blinked rapidly. Once my vision had returned to normal, I looked down at the pathetic waste of space and oxygen blubbing at my feet.
I reached out and grabbed a handful of his thinning hair, and pulled his head back so he was looking into my eyes and I had the chance to almost stare up his nostrils. "You say that my claims were destabilising the Ministry. So in your mind, the wizarding world exists to serve the Ministry. That we mere mortals should fall to our knees and give praise that Fudge deigns to guide us."
My sweet expression twisted into a scowl. "Well, guess what, Percy? You are all about to discover just how wrong you are." I waited until his eyes focused on mine, his mouth still agape. "There are two paths in front of you. One would be taken by a Weasley, the other by a Weatherby. A courageous one, and a cowardly one. Either go back to your family and accept the forgiveness they will no doubt give, or go back to your master, like a dog, and beg him not to beat you for failing your task," I said softly.
I pushed his head down and let go of his hair. I walked over to the door, casually drawing my wand and repairing my own glasses, daring him to object. "I personally have no doubt that you will show the world that the Sorting Hat can be wrong," I said, a sneer both on my face and in my voice.
What greeted me as I left the pathetic remains of Percy Weasley in the back room could only be compared to a sunrise on a world with a binary star. Both Fred and George stood before me as I passed Butt with identical grins that were so large and bright that their molars would get sunburned if they stepped outside.
The twins, along with a fair portion of the customers in the store, held an Extendable Ear in one hand. With an internal groan, I realised that nearly every person in the room heard what I'd just said to Percy.
"Harry, old chap, you really let him have it!" said George, pumping my hand up and down.
Fred grabbed me round the neck, only just short of a headlock. "I say we make him an honourary Weasley, George. We've been down one brother for about a year now. It'll be good to have five brothers again!"
Their banter was interrupted by a familiar voice. "Assaulting Ministry staff, Harry? Tut tut."
I clenched my teeth together. "He was threatening me with his wand, Skeeter. What are you doing here?"
"Oh, just browsing. What a coincidence seeing you here!"
I glared at her, finding her expression of artful innocence highly irritating. "How much?"
She blinked. "How much what?"
"How much did you pay your informant for my location?"
She stiffened momentarily, but I was waiting for it. The smile she put on her face was almost convincing in its innocence. "I have no idea what you are talking about."
"Of course you don't. You have less idea than you have scruples."
Oddly, it wasn't me that said that. Skeeter turned to face George, her lips twitching, but not with humour. "Stay out of this, Weasley."
I raised an eyebrow. "Nice to see your manners have not improved."
The reporter looked back at me, and her face split into that false smile. "You've had the Ministry in quite a spin, Harry. Where have you been?"
I smiled back at her, equally falsely. "Here and there."
"Oh, come now, Harry. Our readers have been worried about you."
My smile disappeared. "Really? They weren't too worried about me when you were defaming me over the last year."
Rita actually had the gall to shrug, as though it wasn't important. "Well, you should take the opportunity to set the record straight. Give me an interview and-"
"What? You'll stop bugging me?"
Her breath caught in her throat. She swallowed, but her nervousness remained. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She said something light, but I ignored it, focusing on her eyes.
"I'm surprised you're here, Rita."
She blinked. "Why wouldn't I be here, Harry?"
I kept my face clear of emotion, but continued to stare her down. "Given you were in Malfoy's pocket, shouldn't you be in prison?"
Gasps from around the room indicated my comment was well received. She tilted her head back, to look at me down her nose. "That is slander, Harry. I have never accepted money from the Malfoy family," she said loudly, more for the benefit of the other customers. Her nose was so far up in the air, I'm amazed she wasn't faint from lack of oxygen.
A wicked smile traced over my lips. "That isn't what I said," I murmured.
A sharp intake of breath indicated that she now understood what I meant, and that it certainly wasn't slanderous. Her face paled quickly behind her thick makeup, making her appear almost gothic. "Perhaps this isn't the best place to discuss this," she said; hope tinging her suddenly wavering voice.
I started laughing, a low chuckle building up into a full belly laugh. "Oh, you bloody hypocrite. You're more than happy to tell the world about everyone else's secrets, you even make up stuff if you can't find anything juicy to report, but you're terrified at the threat of having your own secrets revealed."
Her eyes flickered over the crowd, now extremely interested in what was happening. "Now Harry, there's no need for this sort of thing."
I was still chuckling. "Well, why don't we step into Fred and George's office? That way, we'll have the same amount of privacy that you gave me over my forth year," I offered, not gesturing at all towards all the Extendable Ears gripped in the hands of the enthralled crowd.
"Now, Harry, my stories may have made your life a bit difficult, I admit, but they didn't send anyone to prison."
I raised an eyebrow. "I suppose you're right. After all, your stories about me merely made the Minister think that I was delusional, so he denied Voldemort's return for a year. I could make a fairly compelling argument that your stories are partially responsible for every single death that occurs in the war."
Skeeter blinked, and opened her mouth to form a response. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched a furious looking Mirriam shake her hand out of her mother's, and storm up to the journalist's side, three and a half feet of steaming indignation. She drew back her tiny foot and kicked Skeeter as hard as she could on the ankle. I noticed that she was wearing brand-new, hard leather shoes, so it must have hurt quite a bit.
Skeeter shrieked at the sudden assault, and all but collapsed to grab her foot. Mirriam put her balled fists on her hips and assumed an air of affronted anger. "You're a bad lady! My mummy doesn't like Harry Potter because of what you said! But he was nice to me, and he didn't lie! I hate you!" She drew back for another go.
Her mother's shocked "Mirriam!" was drowned out by the applause the crowd gave to her little outburst. Skeeter, who I'm sure was used to being on the other side of the applause, turned a rather ugly shade of grey and leapt ungainly out of the way of a vengeful mini-witch.
"Why you-" she started, before catching herself. It wouldn't do to ruin her reputation, or at least what was left of it.
I grinned down at Mirriam, who blushed and smiled back, before returning my gaze to the reporter. "Look, Skeeter. You finally did a good thing by printing my account of what happened the night Voldemort was reborn. But don't think that wipes the slate clean between us. You lied, you made up things about me, wrote things that I never said, and pretty much made my life a misery, just to sell a few more papers." I took two steps towards her, and leaned forward so we were almost nose-to-nose. "But if you want a story, I'll give you one. I'll give you one that will embarrass the Ministry so badly that Fudge himself will wet his pants at the thought of it getting out."
Confusion blossomed on her face, before settling into a hard, sceptical look. "And the catch?"
"Simple. You have to be honest when writing it. You have to actually write what happened, and not embellish at all. Editorialise all you want, but the facts stay. What do you say?"
"What story is that?" one of the customers asked.
I turned to him. "The true story of Sirius Black."
"Your godfather? Was what you said to that Percy chap true?"
I nodded. "Every word. I'll tell this parasite here what happened," I said, nodding towards Skeeter. "I'll check the story she writes to make sure it is honest, then will add to the bottom that I will happily take veritaserum to confirm its accuracy."
Mirriam frowned. "What is verysilly-um?"
I smiled down at her, laughter threatening to bubble up. "Veritaserum. It is a potion that means that if you take it, you have to tell the truth."
She frowned. "Why didn't they use that on the bad people?"
My smile turned sad. "Because they didn't believe me. They wouldn't use it because they didn't want to hear the truth."
Mirriam bit her lower lip. "But that's silly!"
The crowd chuckled at this, and I joined in. "Of course it is, but no one ever accused the Minister of being intelligent."
Percy had either apparated or used the portkey to the Ministry. Skeeter glanced around the room, noting the broken chair and the upside-down couch. She turned to face me, but didn't comment.
Fred led us over to the triangular table and sat down, before drawing his wand and restoring the various pieces of furniture to their original state and location. "Sit down. Now, Harry, are you sure you want to do this? As much as I hate how Fudge has handled things, this is really going to mess them up."
I nodded, ignoring Rita's suddenly interested look. "There is a reason beyond getting Sirius' name cleared, Fred."
He grinned back, but suddenly became very serious. "Yeah, look, I'd love to embarrass Fudge too, but the O-, our friends are trying to keep a lid on things. They are trying to make sure that the Ministry doesn't melt from the inside; they want to keep things stable."
I shook my head. "No. They are trying to keep the same faces in power in an effort to maintain the illusion that everything is stable. But stability is not just about maintaining the status quo. If the truth can topple them, then exactly how stable are they?"
Fred sighed, but nodded, a smile creeping back onto his face. "Yeah, you might be right. But at least let me tell the others so they know what to expect."
"Be my guest," I said, frowning. "Why would you think I could even stop you saying anything?"
Fred tilted his head to one side. "I'm not sure. I guess, I just..." Fred coughed, looking embarrassed, something rare enough to warrant comment at the best of times. "I guess I didn't want to do anything against you."
I nodded to Fred in thanks as Skeeter drew her damned quill from her bag. I looked at it and then focused my gaze on her pointedly.
She swallowed nervously. "No quill?"
I shook my head slowly.
She nodded unhappily. "All right." She pulled out another quill, obviously non magical. "Where do you want to begin?"
I leaned back in my chair. "How about the true events leading up to my parents' murders?"
Over the next hour, I related just about everything that happened to Sirius. From how he became an animagus (which caused Skeeter to cough uncontrollably for a few seconds) with my father and Wormtail, to convincing my parents to swap Secret Keepers. From being framed by Wormtail, to his unjust imprisonment. She asked several questions, especially about his subsequent escape.
I described his escape in great detail, and also threw in the escape of Barty Crouch. The fact that there had been two escapees from the prison was news to her, and something I was sure would be in the paper within hours.
It took some doing to convince her that terrorising schoolchildren was not Sirius' intention, that all he was after was a rat. I glossed over Remus' involvement in the climax of my third year, focusing on how Snape was willing to have a dementor kiss an innocent man, even though he was willing to give himself up quietly, as long as Pettigrew came too.
She already knew about the events after the Tournament, so a lot of that was skipped. The conversation with the Minister afterwards was recorded in detail, as well as the fact that a wizard was kissed by a dementor without a trial, something Fudge considered inconsequential at the time.
I skipped over most of the last year at Hogwarts, not feeling the need to describe what Umbridge had me do during my detentions. I did explain how the DA was started, and how Ministry personnel put pressure on the parents of children at Hogwarts. I snarled while describing the fact that our mail had been opened and read by members of the Inquisitorial Squad, a group of people made up almost exclusively of the children of Death Eaters.
Oddly, it was this fact that made Skeeter the most excited. Once I thought about it, I could understand why. The Ministry had spent an entire year denying Voldemort's return, even cozying up to some of the very Death Eaters who were present at the Dark Lord's resurrection. Much of what they did however, could be written off as simple social meetings. There was no hard evidence that Voldemort's followers had any direct input into the running of the Ministry. The entire government was now doing its level best to distance itself from any hint of official collusion with the enemy.
Having a Ministry decree creating the Inquisitorial Squad, whose members' names had a startling correlation with the list of Death Eaters, completely destroyed that position. Despite the fact that I hated the thought of someone being on the receiving end of Rita's quill, the fact that she was reporting facts rather than innuendo did mean I felt a lot less uncomfortable.
It certainly gave the impression that the Ministry bigwigs trusted the families of the Death Eaters. Something that I'd imagine would be very inconvenient in the current political climate.
I described the events leading up to Dumbledore's flight from Hogwarts, including how Fudge was desperately trying to have me expelled from Hogwarts. I went into great detail at how personally satisfied the Minister was at finally having what he thought was evidence to justify my expulsion. I chuckled a bit when I described how Dumbledore actually stunned everyone in the room briefly so he could leave final instructions before taking off. I left out Kingsley's modification of Marietta's memory though; there was no reason to include that.
Luna had already told her father what had happened to her at the Department of Mysteries, and he had published every word. But there were things she was not present for, things I was able to finally tell.
It hurt. It hurt a lot to replay Sirius' death to someone else. To someone I didn't trust. But painful as it was, the entire scene was retold, and even Rita, unemotional cow that she was, had unshed tears of sympathy in her eyes. I described how I was so angry with Bellatrix, that I chased her down myself.
I even admitted to casting the Cruciatus Curse, causing Skeeter's eyes to bulge almost out of her skull. I did point out that the spell had little effect other than to destroy any shield she had, and that Bellatrix was back on her feet in seconds. The rest of the story didn't take too long to complete, but my description of Fudge when he actually saw Voldemort with his own eyes gave her pause to smile.
Finally, an hour or so after tossing Percy into the wall, we were done. She gathered her copious notes and held out a hand. I shook it tentatively.
"Thank you, Harry. As agreed, I'll send my story to you first," she said with a rather brittle smile.
I waved away her worry. "Don't send it to me, send it to Hermione. I won't be contactable by the time you finish it."
If she was surprised at that, she didn't show it. "I still can't believe you told me about your casting of that curse."
I narrowed my eyes. "What would you have done? This was a witch who had killed a powerful wizard in his own right, and had easily deflected spells cast at her by Dumbledore, the most powerful wizard in the world. I could cast Ministry-sanctioned spells at her all day, and then watch as she calmly killed me, or I could cast a spell that has no defense, and knock her off her feet."
Skeeter blinked, frowned and opened her mouth to speak. I held up a hand to stop her.
"I've had a few discussions over the past few weeks with someone. He has tried to get me to think my way through an idea before forming an opinion. There are a couple of things I want you to ask your readers. One, if aurors are allowed to use Unforgivable curses, then does that mean that dark magic can be used for good? Almost any spell taught at Hogwarts can be used for dark purposes. Does that mean that magic is inherently evil? Ask yourself and your readers this. Is it magic that is light and dark, or is it the user's motive?"
From her face, I could see I was missing something. "Harry, that debate is as old as magic itself."
I shrugged. "Never mind then. Next, If someone who the Ministry has summarily declared to be a criminal without a trial can be legally given a dementor's kiss, would you trust the current justice system, given the direct influence the Minister has?"
Rita scribbled something down looking more and more interested.
"Get your readers to consider this. Last year, those who believed me were actively working against Voldemort. Fudge did everything in his power to stop us. He was willing to weaken the wizarding world, making us more vulnerable, just to solidify his power. How much trust are the people willing to put in this man, considering he has the power to order the kiss on someone not ever given a trial. Given he is willing to have the kiss administered to someone before testimony is taken."
I just couldn't help adding, "And are those who bowed to his influence as guilty as he?"
She broke the nib of her quill at my not so subtle jab at the media. After taking a deep breath, she looked up from her sheet at me. "Is that all?" she asked hoarsely.
I shook my head. "Sirius, who was under the threat of instant death if captured, still stormed the Ministry buildings when the Death Eater's arrived. He fought some of the most feared witches and wizards in the country. Ask everyone that if a man with nothing to gain was willing to give his life in the fight against Voldemort, then what excuse does everyone else have not to take up the fight?"
Rita bit the inside of her cheek, repaired her quill, and wrote down a few more words, before folding her notes and placing them in her bag. "I suppose you want his name cleared."
I shook my head. "No."
"No?" she exclaimed. "Then what do you want?"
"I want something the Ministry doesn't have the power to give. I want my godfather back. But I'll settle for having his name cleared. I'll settle for him being remembered as a hero."
She gave me a sympathetic look, and nodded. "All that is left is what you are going to do with the information you have on me."
I glared at her. "First, you tell me what Malfoy is getting you to do."
A spark of fear flashed in her eyes, but she managed to put on a confused expression. "I told you before, I have never, and will never, accept money from the Malfoy family."
I sneered. "That's not what I said. Draco knows you are an animagus. He's a Slytherin for a reason. He wouldn't waste an opportunity like this. What are you doing for him?"
She swallowed. "I have to send him any information I get, even things I don't report on."
"So you'll send him the information you got from me today?"
She twitched, but nodded slowly.
I thought deeply for a second. "How much longer?"
"What do you mean?"
"How much longer are you obliged to humour him?"
She raised her head high. "He hasn't told me."
I smirked at her. "Don't play the innocent with me. You must have realised that you could register to become an animagus. Once the required length of time has passed, you could claim to be a new one. You'd be out from anyone's thumb then."
She glared at me for a few moments before responding. "Six more weeks."
That probably only meant three weeks; I sure as hell wouldn't tell the truth in her situation. "Then I hope you don't have to do anything too bad before his blackmailing gets too much."
She nodded and turned to leave. Just as she passed through the door, I called out to her one last time. "Oh, and put in the story that I've already written three letters to Fudge telling him that I'm fine. He's just upset that I'm not coming in for a photo op."
Even though she didn't turn around to face me, I could sense the smile on her face as she left. I turned to Fred, who had sat silent throughout the entire interview. He had his head tilted to one side and was looking at me with an intense expression of concentration.
"Remind me never to get on your bad side," he said with a familiar grin.
The rest of my visit to the twins' store went well. Knowledge of my presence there ran through the residents of Diagon Alley like a very bad curry. Fred and George were rushed off their feet as people flooded the shop to catch a glimpse of me. I deliberately put myself behind the counter, taking the money for the items.
I have no doubt that at least half the stock sold that afternoon were impulse purchases, simply made to get a chance to talk to me.
I recognised several past and present students in the crowd, and even exchanged some polite words with most of them. The conversations always began the same way, an inquiry into where I had been staying, which I refused to answer. The only member of the DA to enter was Cho Chang, and she was embarrassed enough over recent events not to try and make conversation.
Oddly, no more people working directly for Fudge came in, or at least, they didn't approach me. I think Tonks was in the crowd too, since there were more stumbles and crashes in the crowd than I'd have expected. Several people even patted me on the back and offered a word or two of thanks. One or two shouted uncomplimentary things, but they were quickly booed out of the store or made the targets of the twins' attentions. It would have taken someone stupider than Crabbe or Goyle to try it again after that.
After several hours, with my identity, continued existence, good health and waspish tongue firmly established, George escorted me to the Leaky Cauldron to floo home. At least thirty people followed, all trying to hide behind one another. Honestly, it was one of the funniest things I had ever seen. If Dumbledore or Voldemort was having me tailed, their job wouldn't have been more difficult if they'd painted themselves luminescent white.
The Leaky Cauldron was almost empty as we stepped in the front door, allowing George and I to get to a free fireplace without too much difficulty. I thanked him, shook his hand, and flooed away to Hogsmeade.
From there, I went to the Burrow, then to Hermione's place. I didn't stop at either places long enough to even shout out a greeting, but I knew that each of their floo connections had the highest security, so it was safer to travel through their fires than picking out random destinations myself.
I stopped at one of the locations that Moody introduced me to when he took me to meet Zab that first night. I shook off my robes, leaving me standing in a t-shirt and jeans. I made sure I was alone, drew my wand, and cast, "Veneficus manifesto!"
Three separate glows appeared on my robes, and one in my hair. Two tiny pins, a stray hair and a piece of thread lodged in my hair had magical signatures. Probably tracking charms. I withdrew all four items from my person, and wrapped them in a handkerchief. I was going to leave them there in the corner of the empty room, but decided on something a little more devious.
Facing the fire, I tossed in a pinch of powder and said, "Albus Dumbledore's office." As the fire flashed green, I tossed my handkerchief into the fire, hoping that it would arrive in the old idiot's office. Whatever, they were no longer bothering me. I continued my floo jumping for another three stops before making my way home.
"Harry!"
I blinked, and looked over my shoulder at the face-down mirror on my bed. Hermione generally called me on the mirror at regular times. I wasn't expecting to speak to her until morning. I rose from my desk and walked over to the bed, sitting down at the head. I checked to make sure there was no distinguishing marks before picking up the mirror. "'Mione?"
"Harry!" she said in a businesslike voice. "I've just got a letter from Skeeter. Someone has told her Sirius' story, and she's asked me to comment on its accuracy."
"Have you read through it?" I asked, amusement building.
She nodded. "Where on earth would she have heard the true story?" she asked rhetorically.
I rolled my eyes. "Your Honour, I plead guilty by reason of stupidity."
Hermione giggled. "You told her the whole thing! Why?"
"You've read it, are there any editorials?"
Hermione frowned for a second, and flicked through the pages. "Nope," she said, shaking her head. "And that's odd, because she normally puts all these snide comments in."
I nodded. "I told her not to. I told her the story on the proviso that she stuck with just the facts, and to ask her readers some questions at the end."
Hermione flicked to the back of the pages, but shook her head again. "There are no questions here."
I shrugged. "She'll probably put them in when she writes the full story. All I asked her to do was to send it to you for accuracy."
Hermione nodded absently. "Well, it is accurate. It leaves a few things out, but I assume you didn't tell her them."
"Like what?"
"Well, for starters, how Sirius escaped from Hogwarts on Buckbeak."
"Yeah, I skipped over that."
Hermione fought a grin, looking back down at the story. "She all but has Sirius take on all the Death Eaters by himself at the Department of Mysteries."
I blinked, thinking. "I don't think I told her who else was there, just that some people who believed me when I said Voldemort was back helped. You don't think they'll be angry?"
She shook her head. "At this point, it is common knowledge who was there that night, with the exception of Sirius. But the idea of a criminal fighting Voldemort when the Ministry wasn't will strike a chord with a lot of people." She looked back up at me. "Harry, if this story goes out in the papers, Fudge won't be able to survive this time."
I grinned back. "That is kind of the idea."