Content Harry Potter Crossovers
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What Have I Done?

The most relaxing sleep I'd had ever since the night at the Department of Mysteries came to an abrupt halt at an obscenely early hour the next morning. My eyes felt like they were almost burned to a crisp by the sunlight streaming in through the window, suddenly unimpeded by the blinds, which had been swept aside in a most unseemly manner.

I covered my eyes with an incoherent, "Gaah!"

I heard Zab clear his throat. "When Minister Fudge was elected to represent the Magical community of the British Isles, he made many promises. Only the childishly naive actually believe a politician will make good on the majority of promises made to ensure their election, but to discover that the very man who has been charged with the security of every witch and wizard in the country has actively used his influence to undermine that very safety he was sworn to defend simply beggars belief."

I tried to lift my eyelids, and even managed to crack them open a little. All I got for my efforts was a stinging pain and a blurred outline of my Master, holding some papers. He reached out and pulled aside the curtains of the other window to my room, making the room even brighter.

"When Minister Fudge and his administration denied the return of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, he neglected to inform the public that he had his personal dementor bodyguard kiss a wizard without a trial. A wizard who would have confirmed the Dark Lord's return the very night he stole the Boy-Who-Lived's blood."

I groaned loudly, hoping that Zab would just get the gist of his dispute with me, and just piss off until I'd returned to the world of the living.

"When Minister Fudge and his administration denied the return of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, he neglected to inform the public that Severus Snape, an ex-Death Eater who renounced his former master and turned spy for the Ministry during the last war, showed him the Dark Mark on his arm, revealing that it had burned black, the usual method He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named used to summon his servants."

Realising that Zab wasn't leaving until he'd finished reading whatever it was he was reading, I grabbed one of my pillows and held it over my face. His dulcet tones still reached my ears easily enough.

"When Minister Fudge and his administration denied the return of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, he neglected to inform the public that the Boy-Who-Lived named every single Death Eater in the Dark Lord's inner circle, claiming that Mr. Potter must have discovered that information from court records. Given Mr. Potter lives in the Muggle world during the holidays, and Hogwarts is not the official store for court records, one is given to wonder exactly how the Minister expected Mr. Potter to have come into contact with that information."

Finally, my partially slumbering mind woke up, and I realised he was reading from a newspaper. Obviously reading Rita's article. Oh, bugger.

"But not even the now legendary incompetence of the current Minister cannot explain away the viciousness with which he sought to destroy the Boy-Who-Lived. A year ago, Mr. Potter was dragged before a full Wizengamot to answer a charge of simple use of underage magic. The spell he used was the Patronus charm, one that Mr. Potter had good reason to become quite expert in a few years before. The fact that he was driving off two dementors was not enough to convince a sizable minority of the Wizengamot that he should be exonerated. The fact that the two dementors were sent to attack Mr. Potter by Dolores Umbridge, then Undersecretary to the Minister himself, is of such stunning implication that it is inconceivable that the Minister still honestly believes that he deserves to remain the head of our government."

I swore, though muffled as I was by the pillow, Zab could not have heard. He just continued, his even toned voice belying the importance of what he was reading.

Zab turned the page. "Hmmm, well, it continues on in a similar vein for quite a while. Apparently, every member of the Wizengamot who voted against you has ties to the Minister, either business or underhand. Oh, here is a good bit. 'Surely the actions of our government, transfiguring itself from a democracy to a totalitarian regime almost overnight, demand its removal. When was the last time our government gave itself the right to monitor communications of private citizens without just cause? Including communications from the parents of Muggle-born students who have no recourse to our legal system? When was the last time more than a dozen Educational Decrees were issued in a single year, effectively transferring control of an ancient establishment which has run unimpeded for a millennium to those who are in power for a handful of years? When was the last time the Headmaster of Hogwarts was considered a criminal, for merely telling the truth, and doing everything in his power to protect the wizarding world?'" Zab hummed for a bit, as he skimmed down the story. "Oh, I like this part too. 'Ironically, had the Minister targeted the Dark Lord and his minions with the same fervour and zeal as he attacked Mr. Potter and Albus Dumbledore, this article may well have been praising him for destroying the greatest threat to the wizarding world in recent years.'"

I reached under the pillow on my face and rubbed my eyes, shifting the sleep. "It that the Prophet?" I croaked.

"Exactly how many reporters did you speak to?" Zab snapped.

I groaned. "One, but interviews can be sold between papers," I mumbled.

"Stories like this certainly are not!" Zab grumbled, which I took to mean that I was right, it was the Prophet. "You gave an interview? To Rita Skeeter no less?"

Not in the mood to banter, I decided to give him some of his own medicine. "What stunning powers of observation you have," I groaned.

Zab turned back to the paper. "Ah, here we are, the contents page. The full, true story of Sirius Black, pages three to six. Why Sirius Black is a hero, not a criminal, page seven. Is Sirius Black the only innocent in Azkaban? Page eight. A comprehensive list of the Minister's illegal actions, pages nine through fifteen. How the Dark Lord infiltrated the Ministry, pages sixteen through twenty. Hmm, I wonder if they bothered to print any other news in the Prophet today?" Zab mused, absently flicking through the remainder of the paper.

"How did the Cannons do?" I asked sourly.

"Surprisingly well, they didn't lose," Zab replied quickly. "The fact they weren't playing may have something to do with that," he added absently. "Ah yes, here we are, you are apparently willing to take Veritaserum to confirm any of the story's contents, but only if Minister Fudge does the same."

"What?" I exclaimed, sitting up straight, tearing the pillow from my face. A mistake, it turned out, as I was staring wide eyed at the early morning sun as it rose above the horizon. "Gah!" I finished, falling back and again covering my face.

"You didn't agree to that?"

Slowly I lowered the pillow, blinking rapidly as my eyes adjusted. "Not exactly. I said I'd take Veritaserum to confirm anything in the story. I didn't say anything about Fudge." I pushed myself up onto my elbows.

Zab looked surprised. "Then you owe Ms. Skeeter, Harry. If anyone had called for you to confirm your story, they could have torn you to pieces over what you've got up to over the years. They would have destroyed your credibility. By challenging Fudge like that, if he doesn't call you in, he is confirming its authenticity by default, if he does call you in, he will have to take Veritaserum and perhaps confess to more wrongdoing. He won't want that."

I frowned, trying to get my brain working. What would I do to lessen the impact of such a story, if I had the power Fudge did? I smiled as the answer hit me. "Then he'll probably call me on it."

Zab frowned. "You thin-," he began before a devious smile crossed his face. "Oh, clever. I'm impressed you managed to think of something that devious, given your current, rather befuddled state of mind."

I shrugged. "He's as slippery as a Slytherin, so he'll publicly call me on it, then quietly cancel, hoping to manipulate opinion for one last push to stay in power."

Zab nodded. "Well, you should read this, to make sure it is all correct. Once you've done that, we need to have a little-" Zab's eyes flickered over my bedside tables, and his expression turned dark. "Where is your wand?" he snapped.

I blinked, and waved towards my workspace. "It's over there, on my desk."

Zab glanced at the desk, and rolled his eyes. "So is half the clutter in the country. Aurors in training are expected to keep their wands on their person at all times. Alastor would be most put out with you. Always keep your wand at your side! Get it now!" he commanded, angry at my laziness.

I nodded slowly, and rose. I stumbled over to my desk dressed in nothing by my boxers, and patted the piles of parchment down, trying to find the holly wand. After a few moments of no success, knowing that Zab would probably punish me quite severely for not being able to put my hand on it instantly, I sighed, drew a deep breath and shouted, "Lumos!"

One pile began to glow from underneath. I shifted the notes and snatched up my glowing wand. "Nox," I said casually, extinguishing the light. I steeled myself and turned to face Zab, only to see him staring at my wand as though he'd never seen one before.

"Do that again," he said softly, all traces of anger gone, his face schooled into an expressionless mask.

"Do what?" I asked, confused. "Cast a Light spell?"

Zab nodded absently. "Without holding your wand," he clarified softly.

I put my wand back down on my desk. "Lumos," I said.

Nothing happened.

I frowned, and forced more power into my voice. "Lumos!"

The wand tip burst into light, making me blink. Zab's mouth was slightly ajar. But only for a second. He shook his head and recovered his attention. "How long have you been able to do that?"

"You mean cast a spell without holding my wand? I've only done it once before today. When the dementors attacked. My cousin hit me, thinking that I was the one doing what he was feeling from their presence. I dropped my wand." I shrugged, not caring to perfectly describe the events of that day. "I couldn't find my wand, so I called for it. It got dark, and I shouted 'Lumos' in desperation. My wand lit up normally, so I grabbed it."

Zab's expression was still carefully schooled into neutrality, as he mulled over what he had just heard. The longer the better, in my opinion, since he seemed to have forgotten the little talk he'd been preparing for.

He remained silent for far too long to be comfortable. "Um, Master? I assume this isn't normal."

He blinked quickly and focused on me. "Rare, Harry. Very rare. I've not met someone who could do such a thing. The more I get to know you, the more I'm becoming convinced that I left the wizarding world far too early." Again, his eyes lost focus, and he thought deeply. Finally, his head snapped up and he grinned, making him appear three decades younger. "Get dressed. This is something I must take the opportunity to examine."

With that, he turned and drifted silently out of my room, his robes trailing behind him. I rubbed my eyes, and yawned. I was thankful for delaying, if not avoiding completely, a lecture on exactly what I did wrong speaking to Skeeter. In any event, it looked like it was going to be an interesting day, and I wondered just how many rare abilities I had. Perhaps that was what the prophecy was referring to.

While it was interesting, it turned out to be an absolutely exhausting day. Even an hour before lunch I was physically and magically drained to the point of collapse. Casting a spell through a remote wand cost me a great deal more energy than normal, leaving me staggering, and unable to improve on my performance. Even after two hours of practise, I only managed to fire off the most simple spells; the light and levitation spells, a simple fire-starting charm, and couple of minor hexes and jinxes. Simple first year spells which required almost no effort for a wizard to cast. Any spell requiring more power left me with a migraine and severe dizziness.

Once Zab had established what spells I could cast, he then experimented with distance. We discovered that I could fully light up my wand up to about three metres away, but any further than that caused the spell to lose power rapidly. From around seven metres, I couldn't even get a glimmer out of my wand.

Throughout all the experiments, Zab made page after page of notes. During one of the exceedingly rare breaks Zab afforded me, we discussed the theory behind my unusual skill.

"Well, other wands placed between yourself and your wand don't appear to make a difference," Zab noted after he had put his wand on the middle of a table and mine at the far end, and my spell had lit up only my holly wand. "Therefore it is reasonable to assume it has to do with the link you have with your wand."

"The wand chooses the wizard," I quoted, remembering my first visit to Mr. Ollivander.

Zab nodded. "But the level of connection you have with your wand is," he paused, searching for the right word, "more intimate than most. Your wand would appear to be uniquely suited to your hand and yours alone."

I bit the inside of my cheek, but decided to tell him. "The core of my wand is a feather from Fawkes, Dumbledore's familiar. Voldemort has the only other wand that had a feather from the same phoenix as its core."

Zab appeared intrigued. "Your wands... are brothers?"

I nodded. "That's what saved me the night Voldemort rose," I said, explaining in detail what happened when our wands joined that night. "I'd like to say that I forced the shades of Cedric and my parents out of his wand, but I'm pretty sure I only managed it because he was still week."

Zab nodded. "That may be one reason the Minister refused to believe your story. What are the odds of a student, even one that had just won the Tri-wizard Tournament, defeating the Dark Lord in a duel? It does sound rather far fetched, not to mention egotistical."

"I never claimed that I'd beaten him in a duel!" I spat, instantly angry again.

Zab lowered his head, looking at my from under his eyebrows. "Are you sure? Think about what you told Albus. It was he who then explained events to the Minister. However he decided to present your account of events, our Minister is not renowned for his attention span, so it is entirely possible that he believed the Headmaster told him that you defeated the Dark Lord in a duel." Zab made a face. "No matter where you work, there are people like that. It took me a long time to work out why they always seemed to have management positions. I decided that they'd been promoted in an effort to put them in a place where they could do the least damage. Regardless, it does sound like the claims of someone who craves attention."

My anger slowed as I thought. "I'd just won a bloody tournament, one that I was not considered old enough to enter. I had all the attention I could want. If I truly wanted attention, why would I jeopardize that by telling a lie?"

Zab tilted his head to one side in acknowledgement. "I'm not suggesting that the Minister's actions were correct. I'm suggesting that they may have been explainable, at least to someone of his somewhat limited mental gifts." Zab leaned forward. "Don't ever let your emotions rule your thinking. Don't ever let your hatred or anger at someone to cloud your analysis of their actions. Remember, people judge their own behaviour by their motives, but judge others by their actions."

"He could have given me Veritaserum. He could have had Crouch testify, instead of letting his pet dementor destroy him."

Zab nodded. "Absolutely correct. I sometimes wonder about how the Ministry operates. In theory, with access to Veritaserum, it should be impossible to send an innocent man to prison. It should be impossible to infiltrate the Ministry. Security procedures involving potions like Veritaserum should ensure that the people in power are there because they want to make a positive impact on society, not because they want power."

I chuckled softly. "The desire to be a politician should ban you for life from ever being one."

Zab leaned back in his chair, and stroked his goatee with a smile on his face. "Precisely. Now, let us get back to work."

A few hours later, I staggered back to my room, gently thumping into the walls. I could hardly stay upright, and given that my eyes were half closed, I probably looked like I'd been partaking enthusiastically of the firewhiskey in Zab's liqueur cabinet.

It took me a while to figure it out, but my newly found skill wasn't rare, as Zab claimed. It was probably unique. It had not been documented at all, meaning that Zab was being quite obtuse about it. He'd never even heard of someone who could do such 'tricks', and fully intended to document every single aspect of my ability. Magic with a wand, yes obviously he'd heard of. Wandless, likewise. But remote casting, no.

Zab finally let me go, after about six hours of experimentation with my remote wand casting. As much as we tried, certain spells just couldn't be cast from a distance, either I just didn't have the power or the wand was too far away. I did finally manage to cast a stunning spell, but my hand was hovering over my wand, and the miniscule blip of red light would have had difficulty in toppling a rodent.

I missed my door, and it took me a few minutes to work out why I'd reached the end of the corridor. By the time I'd retraced my steps to my room, I'd almost collapsed from sheer exhaustion.

I pushed my door open, finding that the elves had obviously cleaned. My bed was made and the notes on my desk sorted into tidy piles. I shrugged off my robes and glasses, then threw myself onto the bed face down, not caring that I'd barked my shin on the bed stand. It was with a great relief that I closed my eyes.

"Harry? Harry?"

I groaned, cursed and swallowed. With my left hand, I groped the bedside table, looking for the mirror. My questing fingers found the handle, and I picked it up and angled it towards my face. "'Mi'ne?" I queried, not bothering to lift my face from the bed, leaving me looking like I'd been pressed out of clay by someone with as little talent as Malfoy has for self-preservation.

"Harry! Have you-, what on earth happened to you?"

"Tired."

"I can see that. Are you hurt?"

I grunted what I hoped was a negative sounding answer.

"What have you been doing?"

I forced an eye open and looked at her. "Go 'way," I offered.

She blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

"Go 'way, pl's." I mumbled. "Sl'py."

Her eyes narrowed. "Harry, it's not even five in the afternoon. Why are you so tired?"

You know, for someone so bright, I can't believe she expected an in-depth answer from someone who was slurring the word 'please'. "L'ter," I said, before putting the mirror face down on the bed. I don't remember what she said after that.

"Harry?"

I coughed and slowly blinked my eyes open. My neck hurt from lying on my cheek, and a trail of drool from the corner of my mouth had dampened the sheets beneath my face. I lifted my head, only to discover that the damp patch had attached the sheet to my cheek. Ugh.

I tilted my head to detach the sheet from my cheek, rolled over onto my back and wiped my mouth with my forearm. I let my tongue roll around in my mouth. It tasted like Hedwig had coughed up her last dinner into my mouth.

"Harry? Are you there?"

I blearily looked over at the mirror, shook my head to clear it and picked it up. "'Mione?" I asked, looking at my blurry friend's face.

Even unfocused, I could tell she was angry. "What has gotten in to you?"

I yawned. "What do you mean?"

"Why did you tell me to get lost?" she snapped.

"I did?" I asked, confused.

"Yes, before you started snoring for three hours. You didn't break the connection before you fell asleep."

"Well, I was tired. My Master has had me practising something." Another yawn escaped. "Don't ask, it's too boring to explain. How did you know that I'd woken up?"

Hermione's expression turned a little worried. "You stopped snoring. Are you sure you're all right? Your Master isn't overworking you is he?"

I rolled my eyes. "What, you think I'm going to bed at four in the afternoon because I'm bored? Yes, he's overworking me."

Her expression turned concerned. "Then you should say something to him."

I snorted softly. "'Mione, you'd work much harder than this if you knew what we were doing," I said with absolute certainty.

"Well, what are you doing?"

I sighed. "Experimenting with a new form of magic."

Her eyes bulged almost out of her skull. "You said it was boring!"

"No, I said it was boring to explain. Look, enough, I've been told not to talk about it until we know more. Why did you contact me in the first place? It wasn't your usual time."

She blinked, obviously consternated that I was deeply involved in something that she would give up her ability to bear children to be involved in. "I-, your story."

"In the Prophet, you mean?"

She nodded. "If you wanted to damage the Ministry, you couldn't have picked a better time to publish it if you tried. The draft of the internal report on what happened in the Department of Mysteries was released today, and a few of the Order members got a copy. It praises the six of us for our role, even suggesting that we get the Order of Merlin, second or third class, for our efforts. With your story coming out this morning, and the report being published today, the Ministry cannot attack our characters without looking like hypocrites. Ron's father has been in meetings all day, and every single Ministry worker has had to go to work, even if they were sick or on holiday."

I couldn't help but smile. "What's the verdict?"

Hermione shrugged. "Fudge is out. He has to be. There are just too many bad decisions on his part in your story for him to retain enough support to remain in power. The most devastating thing was the fact that he had Barty Crouch kissed before he could offer testimony. A lot of people have been pointing out that it makes it look like he was hiding something, more than one claiming that you may have been right to say he was a supporter of Voldemort."

It was my turn to shrug. "For all we know, he might have been."

Hermione frowned. "I doubt it. If he was a Death Eater, he would have had you killed before this," she said solemnly.

I shook my head. "No, I meant that for all we know, he may have been hiding something. I know he isn't a Death Eater, like I said during my testimony, he is too incompetent to have lived for so long as a Death Eater. No, I was thinking more along the lines of the way he threw his support behind Barty Crouch Senior even when he was behaving oddly. Having Junior appear when he was supposed to be dead couldn't have been a good sign. No, the more I think about it, the more I think that we don't know everything about Fudge and his history."

Hermione's eyes widened during my explanation, then became heavy-lidded. "Harry Potter, you need to stop doing that to me," she said in a sultry voice.

I sighed, but grinned at her. "Sorry. What else have you heard?"

She pouted briefly, but continued. "The Order has been hectic, but they've been like that since last night. Somehow they got wind of your story before it broke. Did you tell them what you were doing?"

I nodded. "I told Skeeter the story at the twins' shop, and said that they could tell the Order. You know, Fred actually asked permission to tell them. He said that he didn't want to do anything against me."

"Well, according to Ron, there was even talk of obliviating Skeeter to stop the story from coming out, but that idea was so radical that the opportunity to do anything like that passed while they were arguing about it."

"Ron's allowed into the Order meetings? Or is he just making use of Fred and George's merchandise?"

Hermione grimaced. "He's allowed in. I'll give that boy credit, after spending too much time around you, what he wants, he gets. He spent the summer putting Extendable Ears in different places around the main room the Order meets in. Any time Professor Moody wasn't attending, he could listen in as much as he wanted. Since he was getting the information anyway, his parents let him sit in."

"Well, he's done more to fight Voldemort with us than a lot of the people in charge have, I'm not surprised that he is allowed in."

"Anyway, with the twins' warning about your mad little scheme, the Order members were able to make the best of an exceedingly bad situation for their personal standings. Kingsley and the other aurors were able to submit official reports stating their opposition to many of Fudge's laws, and Mr. Weasley was able to use the fact that he was being investigated last year to his advantage too, with the help from some well placed official memos."

"That all sounds rather like civilised warfare."

Hermione smirked. "Don't you believe it. Mr. Weasley was threatened with the sack last night for putting down most of those thoughts on parchment, he had even been scheduled to attend an official hearing about his continuing future as Head of his Department, and probably even his future at the Ministry. But with your story bursting through whatever agenda they had, he came out looking like the one Department Head in the entire Ministry willing to put his career on the line by speaking out against Fudge."

I nodded, pleased that Mr. Weasley wasn't in any difficulties, then chuckled softly. "What about Percy?"

Hermione opened her mouth to respond, when an oddly echoing knocking sound came out of the mirror. Hermione looked away from the mirror in her hand, and called out, "Who's there?"

I missed the response, but Hermione's eyes lit up. "Come in, Professor! I'm just talking to Harry."

I blinked, wondering which Hogwarts' teacher would be calling on Hermione, who she would be pleased to see, and who she had no trouble admitting that she was talking to me. The view in the mirror tilted and twisted as it was passed from one person to the other. The answer hit me just before the teacher's face appeared in the mirror.

"Remus," I greeted him. "Is Hermione still calling you 'Professor'?"

The werewolf smiled thinly, his mind obviously elsewhere. "Hello Harry, and yes she is. I can't seem to do a thing about it."

I frowned at his apparent mood. "Something up?"

The smile disappeared completely. "Harry, what the hell were you thinking?"

I rolled my eyes. "I assume you mean about Skeeter's story?"

Remus' eyes narrowed. "Yes," he said tightly.

I shrugged, no prepared to take flack for something like this. "I told you on my birthday that I'd be trying to get Sirius' name cleared."

"By destroying confidence in the Ministry? Have you any idea just how much chaos you've caused?"

I yawned, still tired, but mainly because I felt that it was an appropriate response to hearing about the Ministry's woes. "I assume you mean, the chaos they have caused themselves, if what they had done was ever revealed to the public."

"Harry, the entire government is in an uproar! There are no services running! If Voldemort attacked now, muggles could be killed with impunity, there'd be no one to protect them!"

I sighed. "First of all, Voldemort has enough brains not to go after muggles. He knows that if he kills a muggle family, and the Ministry isn't there to clean up after him, he faces having magic being exposed. The Prime Minister knows about the existence of magic, and he wouldn't hesitate to take action against the wizarding world if it became apparent that it couldn't police itself. Anyway, Voldemort's only really interested in getting rid of Muggle-borns and their families. Since the Ministry has been stretched to its limit protecting Fudge and his pure-blood cronies, there was no guarantee that those families would be protected anyway."

"Harry, that is just sophistry. Just because something may not have occurred does not mean that ensuring it doesn't occur is morally acceptable. Dammit, there was no need for this! With this one act, you've put the wizarding world in more danger than Fudge managed to in the whole of the last year!"

I leaned forward, so my nose was almost pressed against the mirror. "You know what, Remus. I don't care. I. Just. Don't. Care. The wizarding world can go to hell as far as I'm concerned. It's mostly made up of idiots, bigots and arseholes. I remember reading once that people get the government that they deserve. Well, as far as I'm concerned, it holds true in this case. You say that I've put everyone in danger because of my actions, well guess what? The wizarding world is about to learn that the price of freedom is constant vigilance."

"People are going to be killed, Harry. Real people! Real people are going to die because the Ministry will not be able to function!" Remus spat, his voice becoming filled with anger.

"Oh, grow up!" I shouted back. "It's time to stop trying to protect every one of those pampered, over-indulged fuckwits, and let them either grow up or die! Every witch and wizard in the country has the ability to defend against Voldemort and his Death Eaters, so stop wasting time trying to keep them from harm, and let them take responsibility for themselves."

"What about the young students who are Muggle-born, Harry? What about them?"

"Hey! I've faced down Voldemort so many times that I can doze through the boring bits of my life as it flashes in front of my eyes, and I am effectively Muggle-born! I was eleven when Quirrell tried to strangle me, and I was twelve when I had to kill that bloody basilisk to prove I wasn't the heir of Slytherin! Don't you dare try and suggest that young Muggle-born students are helpless! Give them all a portkey if that salves your conscience, but give them the credit they are due."

Remus clenched his teeth together, obviously trying hard not to lose control. "Dammit, Harry, this is not just about you! I know what you've gone through, but not everyone has your strength of character!"

"How do you know? Huh? Most would have said the same thing about Neville when he started Hogwarts! Since then, I've been hounded, mis-quoted, photographed and stalked by the media for being famous for something my mother did, but no one was surprised when I won the bloody Tournament! People have a far greater expectation of me than I deserve, yet Neville, who has been underestimated his entire life, was with me, fought at my side, at the Department of Mysteries, and he faced down the very woman who took his parents away from him! He took the Cruciatus, accepted a broken nose, and was still trying his damnedest to fight! Now you stand there, and tell me that people like him need the protection of the Ministry, and that their imminent deaths are my fault! Bollocks to that!"

Remus simply seethed throughout my rant. "Harry, we needed the Ministry in place! The Order is-- we are all-- in the middle of a war, and you just took away our only major ally!"

"Don't you get it? You don't need the Ministry! You need people who believe in what you are doing, not going along because they'd get voted out if they didn't!"

"Harry, a leadership and power structure are vital to any military or guerrilla activity of this magnitude. The Ministry structure was perfect to distribute orders, aid and personnel! Now that you've effectively destroyed it in the eyes of the public, we will need to create a new one from scratch. The Order is not a military force, it never has been!"

I rolled my eyes. "Remus, relying on the Ministry in any capability was a mistake. Basically, it is an organisation made up of people who joined to gain power, and who will jump ship the moment it appears they can no longer get it. They would be a liability in a fight. You are better off without them."

Remus' expression darkened, his cheeks becoming even redder. "So Severus suggested. Dammit, Harry-" he growled.

"No!" I shouted, cutting him off. "There are people out there, people who have powers that any almost any muggle would give their right arm for, and all they do with it is waste it. They read a gossip column, send curses through the mail, and bitch and moan to all their friends about the state of the world. Now, look me in the eye and tell me that the world is better off with them in it."

Remus actually looked shocked. "You can't seriously be saying that? You'd let people die just because of the sort of people they were?"

"No, I'm saying that if people want to have the right to live in the wizarding world, then they need to take some sort of responsibility for it. They need to put their hand up and say that they are willing to do what is necessary to make sure the world is safe for themselves and others. Just like Sirius did. It didn't matter to him that it was dangerous, it didn't matter that if he got caught he faced the Kiss. All that mattered to him was to do the right thing; to make sure that those he considered family were safe. If people won't take responsibility for themselves, then I sure as hell won't, and you shouldn't either."

Remus swallowed a couple of times, trying to keep his voice steady. "You've grown hard, Harry. You're not the same boy I taught."

I fought to keep a snarl from forming on my lips. "Perhaps. Or maybe I am the same person, but the world has changed around me. Look, put me on the front line against the Death Eaters, and I'll fight. I'll do everything in my power to ensure that every one of my friends remain safe. I'd give my life for them in an instant. But I will not fight for the Ministry, an organisation that is corrupt, decadent and wilfully ignorant. If the simple truth can topple it so easily, then it sure as hell shouldn't have been standing in the first place."

Remus sighed, looked down and shook his head. "Harry, I wish that things were different. I wish that I'd been a larger part of your life. But most of all, I wish that you didn't harbour all this hatred, this anger."

This time, I did snarl. "Well get used to it." His eyes widened in surprise, as though he was expecting an apology, or at least an agreement. "What?" I asked. "You wish I didn't have all this rage? Well guess what? If I didn't, it would mean that I was broken. It would mean that I'd just given up, and was ready to let the world kill me. Well, the hell with that."

"Yet, you've effectively left the wizarding world."

"What rock did you crawl out from under? I've left nothing! I'm still here, I'm just not accepting calls right now. I needed a break, so I'm taking one. One where I won't be lied to, manipulated or controlled. I've learned more here over the last few weeks than I learned in that pathetic school called Hogwarts over the last year. When I tell the truth here, I'm not tortured, belittled or made into a hero once it becomes apparent that I was right all along. The wizarding world has grown introverted, selfish, and self-indulgent. I want no part of it. Take it and go."

Remus just stared blankly at me, then lowered his head and sighed deeply. "Harry, I-" He stopped and tried again. "OK, I'll go. But please, just do me one favour. Please, just promise me that this will be the last thing you do to the Ministry? We now have to clean up after you, and I'm not sure we'll be able to do it now, let alone if you do something else too."

"Well, that all depends, doesn't it."

"On what?"

"On whether or not Sirius' name is cleared. If it isn't yet, I'll have to try again." I drew my wand and tapped the rim of the mirror, ending the call. I put it down next to me, and lay back, thinking hard.

"It would appear that you have thought through the consequences of your actions, Harry. I had thought you had spoken to that reporter without thinking about the repercussions."

I blinked and pulled myself up onto my elbows, and nodded to Zab. "That's something that everyone does. They alway underestimate me."

Zab nodded, humming to himself. He entered my room and turned my chair around to face the bed. "I presume that was your werewolf friend?" he asked as he sat.

I nodded. "I thought you were distracted enough to forget about this little talk."

Zab shook his head. "You are partially right. I had not forgotten, but you certainly distracted me. I'm sorry to admit that I listened in on your conversation. Do you wish to discuss it?"

I blinked. "What about it did you want to talk about?" I blinked at Zab's expression, realising that I'd asked a question. "I mean, go ahead."

"Your characterisations of the Ministry and those who work there are both crude and generalisations. Your friend was right about a few things, not the least being that it will be far more difficult now to organise a comprehensive defense against Voldemort."

I raised an eyebrow. "Given how involved several Death Eaters were within the Ministry ranks, I'd say that any attempt to use it to fight against Voldemort would be doomed. The Ministry would be leaking information, information that Voldemort would exploit. Starting from scratch now would mean being able to put in place security procedures that would enable proper screening of those in key positions."

"But how would you ensure that it was your new organisation that people joined? How would you give it legitimacy?"

I shrugged. "There is an existing Order, one that the people who fought at the Department of Mysteries belonged to. They could use that fact to give the Order legitimacy in the eyes of the public. Couple that with several famous and respected wizards like Dumbledore who are already members, and have someone like Madam Bones join too, and the public sees visible, prominent people behind the Order. You don't need to maintain such an idea for very long though. Once people start signing up, it will take on a legitimacy of its own, simply through strength of numbers."

Zab gave me a thin smile. "Perhaps. Having the Boy Who Lived as a figurehead would no doubt be of great assistance in such an endeavour."

"They'll have to struggle along without me," I said flatly.

"True," Zab murmured. "Tell me, is what you said about people in the wizarding world your true opinion, or were you simply taking a radical view to support your stance?"

"My opinion. A great many of the witches and wizards in the world are bigots. Idiotic bigots at that."

"A great many are not."

"True, but they're not in charge."

Zab tilted his head to one side, then the other. "Point taken." He was silent for a few moments, before summing up all his questions into one.

"Harry, are you prepared to be a catalyst in the destruction of the Ministry, simply to clear the name of a deceased wizard?"

I nodded emphatically. "Absolutely. It was that very Ministry which condemned him, remember. If it cannot survive its own history being revealed, should it exist in the first place?"

"Ah, rhetorical questions. Wonderful things, aren't they?"

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