“I’m telling you, Dmitri, this isn’t a good idea –”

   “Larshall, for the last damned time, when I care for your opinion, I’ll ask for it!” Dmitri Kemester snarled, running a hand through his hair in frustration as his detection spell failed yet again. “Hells and damnations, this isn’t working!”

   “Maybe Shacklebolt knows more –”

   “If he does, he’s not talking about it,” Kemester interrupted grimly, eyeing the street with frustration. “He’s not the Secret-Keeper of where they’re hiding Potter, if that Veritaserum was working properly.”

   “You got lucky even getting this far,” Sanders drawled lazily, leaning against the fence.

   “Sanders, I’m not in the mood for this right now,” Kemester snapped.

   “I mean, you got lucky bringing Shacklebolt in with that soot on his fingers that just so happened to be the remnants of a note with this street name on it, but to expect anything more –”

   “Sanders, do the world a favour and start casting detection spells, or if that proves too taxing for you, go find us a ranking member of the Wizengamot so we can get a damned warrant once we find this place,” Kemester snarled. “In fact, go do that instead – you’re annoying me just standing here.”

   Sanders let out a long-suffering yawn. “I’m tired, Kemester, can’t you just send –”

   “No. I’m sending you because you have a working brain on your shoulders, unlike most of these other imbeciles that Bones assigned me,” Kemester replied angrily. “Get back to the Ministry and hurry – I want this to be as legitimate as possible, and I need a good warrant if I want to force entry into this place.”

   Sanders snorted. “Yeah, because hauling Shacklebolt in on charges of treason so you could use Veritaserum without his lawyer present is completely legitimate.”

   Kemester’s eyes narrowed dangerously as he glared at his subordinate, who only winked before Disapparating. Shaking his head with disgust, Kemester raised his wand and kept muttering.

   “It’s a good thing this street is deserted, with you bringing that thing out,” Larshall said nervously.

   “Yeah, but considering we have enough Muggle-Repelling Charms all over this street, there isn’t much of a security risk,” Kemester replied shortly. “For once we won’t have to call the Obliviators to sort this out.”

   “It was risky to use the truth potion on Shacklebolt, though,” Larshall said in a low voice. “I mean, Scrimgeour’s going to be furious –”

   “Not as much, considering he thinks Shacklebolt’s making a power play for his office.”

   “Bones isn’t going to be happy with us either, you know,” Larshall said worriedly. “I mean, she could block the warrant to Gringotts or to this place. And she’s rumored to be sympathetic to Dumbledore… and that might me she has sympathies for Potter.”

   Kemester rolled his eyes. “Yeah, and I’m a goblin’s prostitute. Have you gotten any of that analysis from Experimental Charms yet?”

   “No identification on the explosives yet, but they cross-referenced every known brand of explosive that has been registered for commercial or Ministry usage and the residue doesn’t really match any of them. They’re thinking that it could be new.”

    Kemester swore under his breath as his detection charm fizzled again. “So Potter’s got new explosives. Wonderful. Anything from Gringotts yet?”

   Larshall shook his head. “They aren’t letting us in, obviously.”

   “Damnation! All right, what about from the Ministry? Did you get a message through to the Minister?”

   “I tried, Dmitri, but he’s been in meetings with high-ups in the Ministry all day, and Dumbledore’s been there too, and I assumed you didn’t want me tipping off the Headmaster that the law is after his favourite student –”

   “You made the right choice, Reed, don’t worry,” Kemester replied distractedly, as he considered which detection spell to use next. “And the more Dumbledore doesn’t know about this, the better. Any word from the office?”

   “The Aurors are up in arms that you hauled Kingsley Shacklebolt in,” Larshall said, his voice a mixture of awe and astonishment. “I still can’t believe you arrested him when you went back for lunch – that took a lot of nerve.”

   “Why else would I have gone back to the Ministry for lunch otherwise?” Kemester replied testily, surveying the buildings carefully as he raised his wand again, considering his next spell. “And I don’t care that I made a scene.”

   “Some of the other Hit Wizards aren’t too thrilled, though. And Charon was ruddy furious.”

   “Charon never liked the way I operated, and he’s due to retire in a few months, so I don’t care too much about him. Anything significant from the Aurors?”

   “Only that you were lucky as hell that Moody wasn’t there at the time and only heard about it after you got out here,” Larshall replied with a whistle. “Merlin, he was furious.”

   “But he won’t go to Scrimgeour,” Kemester replied as he began to twirl his wand. “He’s only at the Ministry as an advisor, and Scrimgeour won’t listen to him anyway, so he’s not a threat.”

   “Most of the Aurors don’t know yet, and some of the others think you brought him in for questioning in tracking Potter, not in direct connection to his case.” Larshall shuffled nervously as Kemester began his next detection spell – only to watch it fail completely in a gush of pinkish smoke. After Kemester had finished swearing, he cleared his throat for his last bombshell. “And you know, the Prophet wants to talk to you.”

   Kemester snorted. “Fat chance of that happening.”

   “They want an interview.”

   “Well, they aren’t getting one.”

   “But Dmitri –”

   “It’ll do me more harm than good in the long run, and I don’t have the patience to sit across the table with Rita Skeeter for a few hours until she gets my point,” Kemester growled.

   “But I heard she wasn’t working for the Prophet anymore –”

   “Then it’ll be some other deadbeat I don’t care for, so the answer is still no,” Kemester finished, spotting Sanders reappearing in the street, looking distinctly out of breath. “Why are you back so soon? Did you get the warrant?”

   Sanders shook his head. “I caught Amelia Bones when she was coming out of a meeting with Scrimgeour, and she wouldn’t give me the warrant without more proof–”

   “Big surprise!” Kemester shouted, his patience nearly snapping with exasperation. “I told you to go the Wizengamot, not to her!”

   “She’s a member of the court, she could give me a warrant as well as anyone,” Sanders shot back heatedly, “and with her Hit Wizard connections, I thought I’d have a decent chance!”

   “So get back to the Ministry and get me a warrant!” Kemester snarled. “Or better yet, I’ll go talk to Bones – maybe she’ll listen to someone who hasn’t traded their brain in for Chocolate Frogs and shiny objects –”

   “There’s no point in leaving, Dmitri,” Sanders replied with a heavy sigh. “Bones is getting a squad together and she’s on her way. And Larshall?”

   “Yeah?”

   “Your message to the Minister –”

   “My message to the Minister,” Kemester interrupted tensely.

   “Whatever,” Sanders snapped with exasperation. “Well, it got through, and he’s coming too.”

   Kemester’s mouth fell open. “Tell me you’re kidding.”

   “Nope,” Sanders replied with a smirk growing across his face. “Fudge wants to take a personal interest in this investigation, Kemester, and he – and the Prophet – is on his way. All eyes are on you now, Dmitri – you’d better not let us all down.”

*          *          *

   “So what do you think are the odds that Tonks got that message through?” Harry asked Sirius as they paced around the drawing room – a room that Sirius had firmly locked and warded against any entry besides that of himself, Harry, and Tonks. And just as well, Harry thought savagely. After what happened with Lupin, Hermione, and Snape, it’s better not to take chances…

   “She definitely delivered the letter,” Sirius replied bracingly. “The question will be when Scrimgeour actually reads it. There’s going to be a huge political mess now that Kingsley got hauled in on charges of treason, and Scrimgeour’s going to be under a lot of pressure from his own department as it is to bail one of his best Aurors out. Trust me, it won’t be taken well that he got arrested by Hit Wizards.”

   “But I thought you told me Scrimgeour thinks Shacklebolt wants his job,” Harry said, rubbing his forehead. “So wouldn’t he be disinclined to release him without due process?”

   “The Hit Wizards threw some big charges though at Kingsley, and Scrimgeour’s going to be expected to make a statement,” Sirius said thoughtfully. “But it’ll be his obligation to try and defend Kingsley, who does have a sterling record.”

   “Couldn’t hurt him to take his time, though,” Harry muttered.

   “Harry, it sounds like you want Kingsley to be held in custody,” Sirius said, his eyebrows rising with alarm. “He’s on your side!”

   “He’s also got the biggest opportunity to mess up everything if he figures something – anything – out. And given his position within the Aurors, he’d notice any move Scrimgeour makes to aid me before anyone else, and he could alert Dumbledore to that. Face it, Sirius, he’s a danger.”

   “More of a danger in the hands of the Hit Wizards where they can interrogate him and track him here,” Sirius replied, looking carefully out the window again.

   “Have they made any progress yet?”

   “None so far,” Sirius noted with a small smile, “And that’s a damn good thing. We probably won’t have to leave, the way things are going. For once, I’m thrilled that my father put every protective enchantment known to man on this place – although the Fidelius is probably doing something to help that.”

   “I gotta say, I expected them to come straight in here when you told me that about the Fidelius Charm and that I wasn’t under it,” Harry said with relief.

   “So did I,” Sirius replied, running a hand through his hair. “Must be some other enchantments, I’m thinking. Mind you, I have been wrong before, and I was no slump at Charms back in the day. Your mum was better than me, but I could hold my own.”

   Harry closed his eyes and leaned heavily against a bookcase. “Wish I had friends I could trust like you had Dad and Lupin.”

   “You do have friends you can trust, Harry,” Sirius said intently. “Two of them are upstairs!”

   Harry sighed. “Yeah, sure.”

   Sirius tensed. “Is it really that bad?”

   “Well let’s see… Hermione’s not speaking to me, she’s so furious, and Ron doesn’t know who or what to believe,” Harry replied bitterly. “Pretty much as I expected.”

   “Harry, you kept them out of the loop early on, you should have known that they wouldn’t be pleased with that,” Sirius replied in a low voice. “Talking to them early could have had a big difference.”

   “I need people I can trust implicitly, Sirius, like you and maybe Tonks, if I want to defeat Voldemort in the long run,” Harry replied, a dark, almost bleak look crossing his face. “Especially considering…”

   “Considering what?”

   Harry was silent for a long few seconds before looking up at Sirius. “I’m not having those dreams anymore, with Voldemort in them. None of those nightmares or anything. And my scar hasn’t hurt since the Dementor attack.”

   Sirius frowned. “That is odd. Did you tell Dumbledore about it?”

   “I mentioned it the night I got in, and he had the same response you did… that it was odd.” Harry put a forefinger to his scar. “It’s weird, because I always thought that the pain would get worse now that he’s back, and that I’d have more of those dreams, and before the Dementor attack, I was having a lot of those crazy dreams too. But now...  nothing.”

   Sirius’ frown grew deeper as he scratched his temple. “Do you think Voldemort’s doing something?”

   Harry shook his head. “For once, I… I don’t think that’s it,” he replied quietly. “Actually, for once… I think it’s me. I think I might have shut him out. Is that possible?”

   “Unconsciously?” Sirius asked, cocking an eyebrow. “I’ve never heard of anything like this, but then again, I’m no magic theoretician. Practical spells tend more to be my thing. Nah, it’ll be Flitwick or McGonagall or Dumbledore… hells, even Snivellus would know more here than I do.”   Harry’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “I’m not spending any more time with that bastard than I absolutely have to. Why he’s still in the Order, I’ll never know –”

   The door suddenly banged open, causing both Harry and Sirius to start and draw their wands with panic –

   “I got it to him!” Tonks said triumphantly, her hair flickering through every colour in the chromatic spectrum in a dizzying swirl as she brandished a tightly sealed, rather official-looking piece of parchment in her other hand. “And he gave me a note to take back to Harry, too!”

   Harry eagerly reached for the parchment, but Sirius grabbed hold of the paper first. “How do we know this isn’t a trap?”

   “Because I silently cast a Confundus Charm on him coupled with a Memory Charm after he wrote his response. And I may or may not have impersonated Harry a bit while I was in Scrimgeour’s office to seal the deal.” Tonks spoke very quickly, and she went as pink as her hair usually was once she was finished.

   Harry’s eyebrows shot straight into his hairline as he stood up straighter. “What?”

   “Come on now, Harry, you aren’t exactly hard to impersonate – I took a very close look at you earlier this morning – and Scrimgeour’s never seen you before,” Tonks said with a disarmingly devious smile. “Besides, he took me shapechanging from my regular form into your shape as you coming off of Polyjuice Potion, so it was a pretty nifty deception.”

   “And he bought that?” Sirius asked incredulously.

   “I may have had to Confund him,” Tonks replied, her smile slightly fading. Sirius groaned.

   “You’re lucky as hell you weren’t arrested in his office –”

   Tonks scoffed. “Most of the Aurors were busy, and after that letter was in Scrimgeour’s hands, he didn’t want to jeopardize any deals he could make by double-crossing ‘Harry Potter’.”

   “And how did you explain to Scrimgeour where the real Tonks was, or how I got her hairs for the Polyjuice Potion?” Harry asked, raising his eyebrows again.

   “I, ah, may have had to Confund him again.”

   Sirius brought a hand to his forehead as he groaned again. Harry just shook his head.

   “He was very pleased to see you,” Tonks said bracingly, trying to salvage her case again as her hair settled back to bubble-gum pink. “Well, see me pretending to be you anyways.”

   “What?” Harry asked, astonishment and suspicion warring his voice. “Why?”

   “He’s wanted to meet you for a long time, he said, and the ‘business opportunity’ you wrote in that letter impressed him a lot.”

   “What about the blackmail?” Sirius asked shrewdly. “He had to have seen that? Did he ask about it?”

   “He brushed it off,” Tonks said, her smile fading completely now, “but he noticed it, I’m sure. His eyes went real cold, almost icy, when he read that part. He knows you have something – and he wants to meet you again, after the trial, to ‘discuss matters’, and you can only bet what that’s about.”

   “Did he say anything else?” Harry asked with a frown.

   “He said everything he wanted to say was in that letter,” Tonks replied. “Cut it open, let’s see what he has to say.”

   Sirius quickly slit the envelope open and pulled out the paper, which he passed to Harry, who read it in silence, while he and Tonks read over Harry’s shoulder.

   “Harry… good god, Harry, he is devious…”

   “It’s better than I expected and hoped for, Sirius,” Harry replied curtly, folding the letter back up and shoving it in his pocket.

   “I don’t think you realize, Harry, the implications that are in that letter,” Tonks said hesitantly. “Scrimgeour’s not playing by the rules with what he’s asking.”

   “Nor was I in my letter,” Harry replied heavily, “and he’s not asking me to do anything I wasn’t already prepared to do.”

   Sirius was speechless, while Tonks could only gasp. Harry turned to the window and peeked out.

   “So how long do you think this ‘investigation’s’ going to last before Scrimgeour personally shuts it down? I give it fifteen minutes.”

   “That much?” Tonks asked sardonically, a dry edge to her humor. “I was thinking more like three minutes, tops.”

   “It’ll take longer than that,” Harry said grimly. “Fudge is out there.”

*          *          *

   “What do you mean, you’re shutting down this investigation?” Kemester snarled, his eyes going wide with fury as he glared at the Head of the Auror Office. “You can’t just come in here and –”

   “This case was under Auror jurisdiction since Auror Shacklebolt took Potter in,” Scrimgeour said briskly, speaking more to Amelia Bones and the Minster than Kemester. “I’m restoring such jurisdiction to it, and that means I’m shutting this leg of the investigation down. You’re shooting at shadows here, Kemester, don’t deny it.”

   “The Hit Wizards are your partners, Rufus,” Amelia Bones said, her eyebrow rising behind her monocle, “and it would be in extremely poor taste to disregard their contributions.”

   “I’m prepared to disregard everything that they’ve given me, considering their arrest and subsequent interrogation of Shacklebolt was of far worse taste than anything I’m doing,” Scrimgeour said curtly. “Now Kemester, if you’d turn in your mission documents and the warrant you better have procured before you searched Shacklebolt’s home, you may return quietly to the Ministry and resume your duties.”

   “Come now, Rufus, surely you’re not going to disregard all of the progress that Mr. Kemester has made here!” Fudge said suspiciously. “Don’t you want to catch Potter, have him face justice?”

   “As much as anyone does, Minister, even perhaps a bit more, but this is a dead end. Trying to search for an incomplete address that none of us even know exists is a futile effort and a waste of time.” Scrimgeour briskly checked his watch. “Now if we could move along, I could provide some details about where I plan to take this investigation –”

   “But everything Mr. Kemester has told us indicates that Potter is here, Scrimgeour!” Fudge said impatiently, waving a hand at the grimy buildings around the street. “The detection charms might not have worked, but that doesn’t mean Potter’s not hiding in the buildings.”

   “And that’ll mean we’ll have to get the Muggle police involved with a search, which would be completely unnecessary because Potter’s not here,” Scrimgeour replied bitingly. “Minister, I respect your enthusiasm, but as a trained professional, I can tell when the trail’s gone cold, and considering how competent Potter is at running for his life, I feel comfortable making the statement that even if he was at some location along this road, he’s gone now.”

   Fudge deflated somewhat. “So you do have a lead, then?”

   “I have several ideas, many likely prospects,” Scrimgeour said reasonably, pulling out a small piece of paper. “Now if you would just take a look at this –”

   “How much did he buy you off with, Scrimgeour?” Kemester growled, his patience finally vanishing along with the last shred of his reason. “Why else would Potter have gone to Gringotts but to buy you off – the only person who can save him!”

   Scrimgeour did not answer for a few seconds, even as the other Hit Wizards gasped, and the nearby camera for the Prophet began clicking madly. Finally, Scrimgeour looked up from his paper. “Potter,” he said coolly, his lion-like eyes meeting Kemester’s furious glare, “has not even deigned to contact me. The search for him is ongoing, but I do know this – if he was anywhere close to this location, he would have left a long time ago. The trail’s cold, Hit Wizard – you’re chasing shadows. Now if you would be so kind, your documentation.”

   “Wizard Kemester, this is both scandalous and insubordinate!” Madam Bones snapped, her shock quickly dissolving into anger as the Hit Wizard didn’t move. “You better hope you have facts to back up your allegations at the inquiry into the numerous points of contention regarding this investigation, or else you’ll be thrown out of the Hit Wizards! And when I thought the conflict between the MLE departments had sunk its lowest! Now please give Mr. Scrimgeour the requested papers this instant!”

   Reaching slowly into his coat pocket, Kemester pulled out his stack of papers, notes, and warrants and straightened them. Then, his eyes blazing with rage, he slowly handed them to Scrimgeour, who flipped through them quickly before tucking them into a small bag.

   “I assume you’ll be wanting my wand too, as you’re taking me into custody,” Kemester said slowly, biting off every word.

   “The inquiry will handle that,” Scrimgeour said primly, straightening his spectacles. “Of course, the board will take into consideration your brother was killed in Potter’s chase, but it does not,” he added grimly, “excuse your actions, particularly relating to my office. Report back to your superiors, Kemester, and get back to your work.”

   “That would be me, Rufus,” Madam Bones said as she glared at Kemester, who darkly returned her look. “I’ll take care of this – send me a report once you have the details, Scrimgeour, I’ll want to know.”

   Scrimgeour nodded tightly before spinning on his heel, Disapparating with a crack.

*          *          *

   “They’re gone,” Harry breathed, sighing with relief. “Finally.”

   “Wonder why they left,” Sirius mused, more to himself than to Harry. “I thought for a few seconds that they’d be here all afternoon looking for you.”

   “So did I,” Harry replied, turning away from the window. “So… now what?”

   “Are you going to agree to meet with Scrimgeour before the trial?” Tonks asked, swallowing hard. “Discuss your… deal?”

   Harry nodded. “I have to… don’t want to, but we’ve got to make these arrangements before I actually get before the tribunal – at least he guaranteed me that.”

   “He knows as much as anyone that you’ll have a better chance there, especially considering he and Madam Bones run the damned thing,” Sirius said thoughtfully. “Still, somebody should go with you, in case Scrimgeour tries to pull something and capture you.”

   Harry scoffed. “He’s smarter than that. He knows what I know.”

   “Then he’ll try and kill you.”

   “Sirius, he’s an Auror.”

   “That only means he’s capable of it, especially since he lived through the First War,” Sirius said grimly. “Tonks, you’d better go with him, just as backup.”

   “What about Dumbledore?” Tonks asked hesitantly.

   “What about him?” Harry asked indifferently.

   “He’s going to hear about the explosions at Gringotts, and if Hermione tells him anything…”

   “He’s going to put two and two together,” Sirius finished, a frown crossing his face. “Damn it, you’re right, Tonks. He can’t find anything out until Harry’s been cleared, and that’ll happen at the trial.”

   “Dumbledore will try to attend my trial,” Harry muttered darkly, “but Scrimgeour’s already agreed to my plan on that front. And we can’t change the date, otherwise he’d know something was amiss… can we get him out of the country?”

   Sirius’ eyebrows disappeared into his hair. “Harry, we can’t just evict Dumbledore from the country!”

   “We might not need to, though,” Tonks said thoughtfully, pacing around the room. “Kingsley’s arrest puts a huge wrench in Dumbledore’s plans, and he’ll want to do all he can to keep things hushed up. And if Harry meets with Scrimgeour tonight and tells him to keep the Gringotts issue quiet –”

   “The Prophet’ll never go for that.”

   “Harry, the Daily Prophet’s a parasite,” Sirius said, his tone a mix of exasperation and disgust. “It exists at the sufferance of the Ministry on the best of days. If they don’t want the story to be printed, it won’t be – Rita Skeeter was one of the few reporters that had the temerity to stand up to high level Ministry officials and report the dirt.”

   “So Scrimgeour blackmails the Prophet, shuts down my investigation, and gets me out of this?” Harry said, his voice incredulous as he tried to comprehend everything the Head of the Auror Office was doing. “Blimey, he must really want to keep those financial transactions hidden.”

   “Either that, or he’s got something else he’s trying to hide,” Tonks muttered, scratching her chin as her pacing slowed.

   “Either way, Harry,” Sirius said with a smirk, “you might just want to write Mr. Scrimgeour a nice thank-you note.”

*          *          *

   “How is she?”

   “You’re starting to care now?”

   “Ron,” Harry growled, breathing heavily, “I don’t need this from you.”

   “Sorry, it’s just that… look, why didn’t you just tell us what you were planning from the beginning?”

   “Ron, you saw what Hermione was like this afternoon, and I tried to avoid the subject,” Harry replied irritably.

   “You could have told me, Harry,” Ron replied, disappointment ringing in his tone. “I’ve been on your side.”

   Harry closed his eyes as he tried to control his temper. “Ron,” he said quietly, “you have no idea how much I want to believe that, to trust you.”

   “Then what’s holding you back?” Ron asked with mingled confusion and anger. “Damn it, Harry, I trust you! Look, I might be a bit uncomfortable with everything that’s happened, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have your back!”

   “I know, Ron, it’s just…” Harry shook his head. “Look, I’ve got a lot on my mind, and there’s so many angles that I have to cover, and if I miss just one – just one, Ron – everything I’ve worked for is for nothing. I want to trust you – hells, I want to trust Hermione too – but I can’t afford to make mistakes. Not now, Ron. Can you use that, if anything?”

   Ron shifted uncomfortably. “I guess… look, Hermione’s in there, and she’s none too happy about what she thinks you did.”

   “And?” Harry asked, his voice abruptly tight. “Is there going to be a problem here?”

   “She’s my friend as much as you are, Harry,” Ron replied, his voice sounding more awkward with each second. “I… Merlin’s pants, Harry, I dunno how to deal with this, and I don’t want us all… splitting up. The three of us have something good here, and I… well, damn it, I nearly lost that last year, because of that Tournament.”

   “It won’t be because of anything I’ve done,” Harry replied quietly, but firmly.

   The door slid open suddenly, and Harry saw Hermione, her hair frazzled worse than normal, her face flushed and red. But her voice was anything but controlled.

   “On the contrary, Harry, it’s your actions that are responsible for all of this.”

   “Hermione…” Ron began, but Harry cut him off quickly.

   “Ron, please leave. I’ll talk to her.”

   Ron swallowed hard. “I’ll… just be in the room – stop by when you’re done, okay?”

   Harry nodded tightly, his eyes fixed on Hermione’s angry face as he stepped into the room.

   As soon as Hermione had closed the door behind them, Harry spun on her, his own anger finally appearing on his face.  “Damn it, Hermione, why are you trying to make all of this my fault?”

   “Whose fault is it, Harry?” Hermione snapped back. “You’ve lied to us from the start, you’ve been hiding things from people who are only trying to help you, you’re –”

   “Okay, stop there,” Harry spat. “How have I lied to you, when you didn’t bother to tell me anything all summer? And yeah, I have been hiding things, but maybe I have a reason.”

   “Harry, we’re trying to help you, and so is Dumbledore! Your ‘plan’ the way I see it is going to make everything worse for the Order, and you’re lucky you got away with your life this morning –”

   “I’m doing what I have to do,” Harry said in a low voice. “Nothing more, nothing less. Tell me, Hermione, what else was I supposed to have done when I got that letter, saying that the Ministry was coming to destroy my wand? I’ve seen Ministry justice, Hermione! They Kissed Crouch without a trial or hearing, and it looked as though I was going to get even less!”

   “I’m not even talking about that,” Hermione replied heatedly. “I can understand accidents, especially on brooms, but not what you’ve done since. The Harry Potter I knew wouldn’t blackmail people or not trust his own friends!”

   “Once again, Hermione, what else could I have done?” Harry growled, his hands beginning to shake with fury. “This is the only way I’ll get through this mess with my wand intact, and you know it!”

   “There are other ways!”

   “Really? Are we talking about your plan, Hermione, where I rely on Dumbledore to save my ass at trial? Do you think the Wizengamot’s going to give a damn what he says if they think he’s going senile, especially with the seriousness of these charges?” Harry shook his head with disgust. “No, Hermione, if I’m going to be the one that’s going to take out Voldemort, I need to learn to rely on myself, not on Albus Dumbledore – especially when he’s shown himself unwilling to help me. He refused to help train me this year, what does that tell you?”

   “I’m… I’m sure he’s got a reason!”

   “Not one he told me,” Harry replied coldly. “So yes, Hermione, I didn’t tell you what I was doing, because I expected something like this, and it turns out I was right.”

   “The Harry Potter I knew wouldn’t do this,” Hermione snarled. “What happened to you, Harry? What happened to the Harry I knew who was… who was noble, and good, and –”

   Harry was silent, and Hermione struggled for words even as Harry’s gaze bored into her.

   “…What happened to the… to the Harry who was my friend? What happened to the Boy-Who-Lived?” She pointed at Harry with sudden conviction. “What happened to him, Harry?”

   Harry shook his head with disappointment. “What happened to the Boy-Who-Lived?” he repeated, shaking his head with disgust. “He discovered that if he wanted to keep living, he had to grow up, and that things had to change, some for the better, and some for the worse.” He pulled open the door behind him and met Hermione’s eyes with his own, hers shining with restrained tears.

   He stepped out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

*          *          *

   “I must say I’m surprised that you were able to meet me on such short notice, Harry Potter.”

   “I wanted to deal with this sooner rather than later, Mr. Scrimgeour, as we are both in rather precarious positions.”

   “Agreed.” Scrimgeour folded his hands as he leaned forward across the table towards Harry, his eyes gleaming. “I’ve wanted to meet you for a long time, did you know that?”

   “You told me that this afternoon, and I did not know that, but it makes sense,” Harry said coolly, matching Scrimgeour’s intense stare. “But despite that, this meeting must be kept short if this plan is to work.”

   “Very true, very true. So, according to your letter, you will pledge your support to my political campaign if when Fudge retires –”

   “Or is forced out,” Harry said coolly.

   “You think that a possibility?”

   “With Voldemort on the loose and with Fudge denying he’s out there? Of course it’s going to happen – it’s just a matter of time.”

   “You seem adamant.”

   “I saw him come back,” Harry replied, steel in his voice. “But I also know I won’t bother trying to convince you – it’s a losing battle.”

   “I see things analytically, Mr. Potter – and I have not yet seen the evidence that Lord Voldemort has returned,” Scrimgeour replied.

   Harry cocked an eyebrow. “You use his full name?”

   “He is a worthy opponent, but I do not fear him, if he is indeed back,” Scrimgeour replied evenly. “A great wizard, to be sure, but withholding his name is showing him more respect than he deserves. But let’s not talk about that – the tribunal.”

   “Yes.”

    “You agree to the conditions?”

   “As long as you agree to these.”

   “Hmm… you want me to tell the Prophet not to report the Gringotts incident in tomorrow’s paper? Any reason why?”

   “Not that you’re going to know.”

   “Were you involved?”

   Harry shrugged. “Can’t say. There’s a lot of Polyjuice Potion in the markets lately.”

   Scrimgeour’s eyes narrowed. “Controls should have been placed on that potion years ago.”

   “Well, the ingredients being bloody expensive is a pretty good control,” Harry replied with a disgruntled snort. “So?”

   “I have no problem stopping the Prophet from reporting the Gringotts incident. And… you wish to keep Dumbledore occupied before the trial? With the issue with Shacklebolt?”

   “As much as possible.”

   “Might I ask why?”

   “Not really.”

   Scrimgeour scratched his chin. “I have no love for that Auror, and by the look on your face, you might feel the same. I can make things… difficult, in that area.”

   “Would you actually do that?”

   Scrimgeour rolled his eyes. “I have no qualms doing it, if that’s what you’re saying. It’ll send a message to Shacklebolt to keep his eyes away from my position. Do you have any problems with my proposals? Do you accept them?”

   “For the most part.”

   “Is there a problem?”

   Harry gave a bitter laugh. “I’m on the run, so I haven’t had a chance to speak with my legal counsel, so I’m going with your conditions on the basis that they make sense to me. And turning myself in to get said counsel is not an option here, so don’t think of suggesting it.”

   “Wasn’t thinking of that, actually. You plan to show up at the tribunal without legal counsel?” Scrimgeour’s voice was bland, but Harry caught a note of surprise in his tone.

   “It wouldn’t be worth my while to procure it, as you well know,” Harry said, placing both palms on the table. “After all, this ‘trial’ should last about five minutes, even with the expected objections. It wouldn’t be worth my money.”

   “Very true, very true… I’ve noticed that you’ve avoided discussing the last article in your letter. I must say, Mr. Potter, I’m a bit surprised you haven’t mentioned it.”

   Harry shrugged. “If it’s not necessary to mention, I won’t bother.”

   “It is a great concern to me, Mr. Potter,” Scrimgeour said, his voice abruptly cold. “I’m acting as I am by dismantling your investigation and not arresting you right now because of said information. Very few know of what actually happened, and I am genuinely curious how you found out.”

   Harry was silent, his gaze mutely meeting Scrimgeour’s, giving absolutely nothing.

   “You do agree to destroy said material after the trial, correct?”

   Harry shrugged. “You can’t bring me back to the tribunal or the Wizengamot unless you have new charges, and I know you don’t have enough evidence to convict me of anything. Hell, it would be a fight to convict me even on these charges with the information you have. After all, I had just cause: why else would I use a Patronus Charm in front of my cousin if there wasn’t a Dementor there? I’m allowed to use magic in cases like that, as you well know?”

   “Then why bother with this elaborate tangle?” Scrimgeour growled.

   Harry shrugged again. “Perhaps I see an opportunity to obtain a new ally, someone who can… support my cause, in the future.”

   Scrimgeour’s eyes narrowed. “What are you implying, Mr. Potter?”

   Harry snorted as he got to his feet. “Sir, Voldemort’s back, and the sooner the Ministry realizes it, the better it’ll be for all of us. And as you might have guessed, the Boy-Who-Lived has an obligation to finish what he started.” He raised a hand. “And I just thought you might want to be on the winning side for once, considering Voldemort’ll be none too sympathetic to an Auror who fought him in the last war.”

   “I’m not joining Dumbledore’s little gang of vigilantes,” Scrimgeour said with amusement.

   “You don’t have to,” Harry shot back, tapping the table lightly with his wand, “and he wouldn’t want you to anyways. But I could use your support – and I’m willing to do what it takes to get that support, unlike others.”

   Scrimgeour’s eyes narrowed. “Is that a threat, Mr. Potter?”

   Harry smirked as he moved towards Tonks was standing near the back of the room, her hood thrown low over her face. “Hardly,” he replied, “but then again, I only threaten people who have something I need – or have something to hide.”

*          *          *

   “So?” Sirius asked anxiously.

   “Mission accomplished,” Harry muttered, gratefully accepting the bottle of Butterbeer Tonks rolled across the table as he sat down heavily. “He gave me what I wanted; I gave him what he wanted. Reciprocity. Does Dumbledore know anything yet?”

   “He probably has some inkling of what’s going on, but he won’t be able to stop you,” Tonks replied, shaking her head. “Blimey, I thought I’d see the day that we’d be plotting against Dumbledore –”

   “It was bound to happen eventually,” Harry replied tiredly. He slumped as he leaned against the table in exhaustion. “What about Lupin or Snape?”

   “Remus told me… that he’ll sit this out and not speak to anyone else if you swear not to get yourself caught,” Sirius said slowly. “And nobody’s heard from Snivellus. He’s probably lurking with his other master, if you know what I mean.”

   “Probably,” Harry muttered morosely, taking a deep swig of his Butterbeer. He held his head up for a few more seconds before slumping, face-first, onto the table, sound asleep.

   Tonks and Sirius exchanged glances.

   “Guess he was tired,” Tonks noted. “He’s had a long day.”

   “That he has.”

*          *          *

   “Harry James Potter, of Little Whinging Surrey, you have been brought before this official Auror Legal Tribunal on the fourteenth of August, 1995, under four charges of manslaughter, two charges of magical assault of the third degree, evasion of arrest, and breaking the Statute of Secrecy and the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery. All these actions occurred on the second of August, 1995, between the hours of five and ten in the evening. Is this correct, Mr. Potter?”

   Harry nodded once. “It is, Madam Bones, your honour.” He chanced a quick glance around the courtroom, noting with a degree of surprise that the Auror tribunal hall – a long, wood-paneled room with a high ceiling, was nothing like the dingy dungeon where he had seen Barty Crouch Jr. being sentenced. But then again, that makes a degree of sense – charges of war crimes, like the way mine are falsely classified, can be charged here. Crouch was charged in the Wizengamot – primarily because he acted against civilians.

   “And under the prior arrangement made with consent of the tribunal, you do consent to the dropping of the manslaughter charges and those relating to the Statute of Secrecy and the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery?” Scrimgeour asked, his voice icy as he looked down at Harry, standing calmly at the long bench set across the room.

   Harry nodded once again. “Yes, your honour.”

   “So how do you plead to the two charges of magical assault in the third degree and the charge of evasion of arrest?” Scrimgeour asked tersely.

   Harry took a deep breath. This was it. And Dumbledore can’t stop me this time… it’s the only way…

   “Guilty, your honour.”

   The Aurors in the courtroom gasped, and the people on the benches behind Harry began talking. From across the hall, Harry could see Dmitri Kemester. He doesn’t look too thrilled at my statement, but I’m not surprised either… he’s losing everything, and when that inquiry finally happens, his job’ll soon follow…

   Scrimgeour flipped open a file upon his desk. “Is there anything, Mr. Potter, that you wish to say before your sentence is assigned?”

   Harry turned and looked at Kemester first before turning up to look at Madam Bones, whose expression was somewhere between shocked and stern. “All I can say,” Harry began carefully, the practiced words coming easily to his lips, “is that I acted… that I acted based upon what I knew at the time. People were coming to destroy my wand because I had saved my cousin’s life and soul, and I admit that I acted hastily in response.” He bowed his head, trying to conceal the smirk that was on his lips. “I accept responsibility for those charges.”

   The crowd behind Harry was murmuring, but he paid them no attention, keeping his gaze on the two judges. He saw Scrimgeour and Bones exchange looks. As the Heads of their departments (albeit Madam Bones having a slightly higher position over Scrimgeour), they were responsible for Harry’s sentence. And Scrimgeour’s already on my side… by Merlin, Kemester looks like he’s ready to kill somebody…

   “Well, Mr. Potter,” Madam Bones began after a few minutes of whispered conversation with Scrimgeour, “with the consent of my fellow judge, your sentence is a fine of five hundred Galleons, to be payable to St. Mungo’s Hospital for the treatment of those unfortunate Magical Law Enforcement officers you wounded in your escape. A further fine of one hundred Galleons will be paid to the estates of each of the unfortunate men who died in that maneuver involving the aeroplane –”

   Kemester shot to his feet. “My brother’s life,” he growled, “was worth far more than a hundred Galleons!”

   “Mr. Kemester!” Madam Bones snapped. “Compose yourself or you will be expelled from this courtroom!”

   “You bought their lives, Potter!” Kemester roared. “That’s blood money! THIS ISN’T OVER, POTTER!”

   “Bailiff, remove the Hit Wizard from this courtroom immediately!” Scrimgeour shouted.

   “Don’t bother, sir, I’m leaving,” Kemester spat, getting to his feet. He walked past the murmuring crowd and shoved the door open... to reveal the surprised and rather grim expression on the face of Albus Dumbledore.

   “Hope you’re bloody proud,” Kemester hissed, shoving his way past Dumbledore and stepping out into the hall, disapparating with a crack.

   “Case dismissed,” Scrimgeour said coolly, rapping his gavel once against the bench.

   The shocked expression on Dumbledore’s face only grew as he moved through the crowd towards where Harry was writing something very quickly.

   “Take this promissory note to Gringotts, they have the authority to withdraw the money from my vault,” Harry said to the bailiff, giving him the note.

   “You need to seal the note with blood, sir,” the bailiff said gruffly.

   “I do?” Harry asked, surprised. “How might I –”

   “Just prick your finger and wipe it on that square on the note – the goblins will know from there,” the bailiff said promptly, gesturing at a tiny edge protruding from the side of the desk. Wincing, Harry ran his finger along it, making a sharp cut. Closing his eyes, he wiped his bleeding finger on the note.

   “Thank you, sir,” the bailiff said, disapparating with a crack.

   “Harry!” Dumbledore said, finally reaching him through the crowd. “The court case –”

   “It was rescheduled, Professor, I’m sorry I couldn’t contact you,” Harry replied apologetically. “Everything’s been settled, though.”

   “But… you pleaded guilty –”

   “I did what I had to do, Professor,” Harry replied seriously, looking up and meeting the Headmaster’s blue eyes – which, for once, were not twinkling. Harry felt as though he was being X-rayed, but he did not back down.

   “You should have informed me, I could have helped you,” Dumbledore replied, his voice disappointed, and Harry could hear the slight note of betrayal in it.

   “I’m sorry, Professor, but as you can see, I handled it.”

   Dumbledore looked at Harry differently at that second, almost speculatively, as if he was seeing something that he hadn’t expected, like he was looking at Harry in a new light, from a different angle.

   “You did not have to change the time, Harry, if you did not want me to attend,” Dumbledore said quietly.

   Harry was flabbergasted, but he struggled to keep the expression off his face, keep his reaction neutral. “I have no reason to turn down your help –”

   “But forgive me, Harry, if I must disrupt your obvious merriment with some bad news… very bad news indeed,” Dumbledore said gravely. “There was a disturbance in the Department of Mysteries this morning.”

   Harry frowned. “A disturbance?” He lowered his voice. “We shouldn’t speak about this here, it’s not safe –”

   “Miss Tonks can wait for you, Harry, because I cannot return you to Headquarters just yet,” Dumbledore replied grimly. “In any case, the reporters will not be here for another few minutes, so we have a bit of time, and this cannot wait. This disturbance confirmed my worst fears.”

   “Why would a disturbance in a Ministry department –”

   “There is a hall inside of the Department of Mysteries known by some as the Hall of Prophecy. The disturbance was within that hall this morning.”

   Harry’s blood ran cold. “Tell me you’re kidding me. How?”

   “We don’t know,” Dumbledore replied, his eyes flashing with anger. “But in the daily inspection this morning, a prophecy was found missing – and a prophecy can only be removed by the one who it was made for.”

   Harry swallowed hard. “He took it… he used the commotion around my trial as a cover.”

   “Yes, he did,” Dumbledore replied softly. “This morning, Lord Voldemort took the prophecy – and you, Harry, are now in greater danger than ever before.”