Close To Truth

“Are you sure this is safe?” Ron asked again as Harry patted the dust from the Floo off his back. “You said that Death Eaters could have Flooed in to a private fireplace…”

“Earlier today I was worried, but it’s been long enough,” Harry said. “The odds that they’re just hanging around hoping for us to walk by is absurd.”

“Yeah, but Diagon Alley’s closed,” Ron replied. “So they could be anywhere and no one would notice. And how do you know Gringotts isn’t closed, anyway?”

“I owled them,” Harry said, rolling his eyes. “They’re never closed; because of the Goblins, Gringotts is probably one of the safest places in the country. I think you’re just trying to come up with excuses so I can’t give you the money.”

Ron ducked his head sheepishly. He was clearly still embarrassed at the idea of accepting money from Harry, even if they were related by marriage. “I just don’t know how I’ll pay you back…”

“You don’t have to pay us back,” Harry stated impatiently. “Bloody hell—Ron, are we going to be going through this forever? Your parents weren’t so hesitant!”

“What? Mum and Dad? You’ve given them money too?”

“While we’re at Gringotts I’m going to arrange a transfer to their vault,” Harry said as they walked through Fred and George’s shop, waving at Justin, Hannah and Lavender, who’d taken over watching for trouble. “I explained to them about what we’d told Hermione’s parents and told them Ginny and I wanted them to have it anyway, and they agreed immediately.”

Ron digested that silently as they stepped out into Diagon Alley and watched as Justin and Hannah magically locked the door behind them. “All right,” he said eventually, looking a bit more pleased. “Hey, this’ll mean I can do whatever I want! Maybe I’ll work out full time and try to make it in professional Quidditch, what d’you think?”

“If you want,” Harry said, relieved. “You should work on bulking up, and defending your left side; that’s where you’re weakest. Hey, you should owl Oliver Wood and see if he’s got any pointers.”

“Yeah…maybe,” Ron said. “After the war.” He scowled. “It seems like nothing’s going to happen except the war, until it’s over.”

“Yeah, I know,” Harry agreed, kicking violently at a rock in the street. “If we survive, then we might get to live. Well, you might, not me.”

Ron looked at Harry queerly. “What’s that mean?”

“I mean, I’m never going to get to have a real, normal life,” Harry said. “Either I die trying to kill Voldemort, or I kill him and prove to the entire Wizarding World I’m the bloody Chosen One, and never get left alone for the rest of my life.”

“Yeah,” Ron agreed slowly. “It’ll be like when Dumbledore killed Grindelwald. Maybe you should’ve talked to Dumbledore’s portrait about it.”

“I did,” Harry said bitterly. “He just said ‘It is the cross that exceptional people must bear’. It’s bollocks. I’m not exceptional, and I don’t want to be the next Dumbledore!”

“There’s worse things,” Ron said lightly.

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

“Well, Trelawney could turn out to be right and you could become Minister of Magic—then you’d be the next Fudge.”

Harry stared for a second before snorting. “Okay, that would be loads worse,” he agreed through his laughter.

“Hey, you should play professional Quidditch too, you’re good enough,” Ron suggested once they’d both stopped laughing.

Harry shrugged, although he felt in much better spirits. “Maybe. I think I’ll probably want to relax for a long time after the war, though, and playing Quidditch is really stressful.”

“You’re mad, playing Quidditch is brilliant,” Ron stated. Harry bit back a retort about the original lyrics to Weasley is Our King.

When they arrived at Gringotts the goblins made them go through extensive magical testing to prove who they were; Ron thought it was excessive, but Harry was glad to see them taking those kinds of precautions. Then a goblin helped arrange a new vault in Ron and Hermione’s names, and Harry had them transfer 200,000 Galleons into it. He then had them transfer the same amount into the Weasley vault. “Harry, are you sure you can afford this?” Ron hissed one final time.

“Ron, I told you, the cash in the Black vaults is tens of millions of Galleons, and that’s not counting all the property. We won’t even notice it’s gone,” Harry assured him. “Listen, we told you that you and Hermione get almost everything if Ginny and I die, right? So this is just part of your inheritance.” Ron’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline.

As they rode down to Harry’s vault so he could get some pocket money, a thought struck him; “Hey Ron, have you and Hermione made any progress looking for—” he glanced around to make sure the goblin guiding their cart wouldn’t hear— “for possible Horcruxes in the ledgers from the Black family vaults?” he finished in a whisper.

“Not really,” Ron admitted. “It’s hard going, the writing is tiny and tough to read. We found a couple things worth checking out, but…” he shrugged. “We’ve barely gotten started, honestly.”

“Yeah, I figured. I wish there was a way to make it faster, but the ledgers are Charmed to prevent anyone from searching them magically.”

“What? Why’d they do a mad thing like that?”

“Dunno. Maybe to keep specific things hidden?” Harry guessed.

Ron’s expression grew thoughtful. “Things like the things we’re looking for, maybe?”

“The Charms have existed a lot longer than that,” Harry said quietly. “But that would definitely be a way to take advantage of them.”

When they stopped, Harry filled a sack full of Galleons from his parents’ vault and hopped back in the cart. “Want to stop at your new vault and get some pocket money too?”

“Uh…is it set up yet?” Ron asked in surprise.

“Of course,” the goblin accompanying them said in an affronted tone. “Your new vault was prepared and the transfer complete the moment you had both signed the parchment.”

Harry smiled happily at the look on Ron’s face when the goblin opened Ron and Hermione’s new vault. He suspected that up until that moment, Ron hadn’t really believed the vault was there, or that there truly was gold inside. Since Harry had met him, Ron had always been sensitive about money, even angry, jealous and bitter; Harry felt deeply contented to be able to help mend a deep, long-standing hurt of his best friend.

Their business finished, Harry and Ron thanked the goblins and waited until the magical locks on the doors had been removed so they could go. They stepped out cautiously into Diagon Alley, hands gripping their wands inside their robes. But the feared attack didn’t come, and they relaxed marginally. “I told you it would be daft for Voldemort to try and attack us here,” Harry said as they set out back to the House of Black.

“Maybe, but—” Ron began, when three figures rounded the corner in front of them. “Oh, bugger.”

“There you are!” Rufus Scrimgeour snarled at Harry, stomping forward. He looked livid, and Harry and Ron’s hands went back to their wands. “How dare you undermine my authority, Potter? You are under arrest!”

“What?” Harry exclaimed, stepping back as Scrimgeour bore down on him. The two Aurors seemed hesitant to participate, but they weren’t restraining the Minister either.

Ron stepped in front of Harry, openly brandishing his wand. Scrimgeour obviously recognized him and paused, recalling the thrashing Ron had delivered him when he’d accosted Hermione in St. Mungo’s. “Interfere in Ministry business and I’ll arrest you as well, Weasley!” he demanded, although he made no move toward Ron.

“That’s utter bollocks,” Ron snapped back. “Just because Harry won’t be your poster boy doesn’t mean he’s interfering with the Ministry!”

Scrimgeour colored. “I don’t have to explain myself to you!” He said, and made to go around Ron.

“Actually you do,” Ron said smugly. “The Wizarding Code of Law for Magical Criminal Apprehension and Prosecution, Statute 47.8 Sub-clause 1 states that any wizard or witch has the right to a public declaration of the reason for their arrest before they can be arrested, unless the alleged crime has at least two wizard witnesses or four muggle witnesses, or a death has resulted from the crime.”

Scrimgeour’s look of shock at Ron’s knowledge was nothing compared to Harry’s. He stared open-mouthed at his friend; where on earth had he picked up that piece of information? “Er, Minister…I’m afraid that’s true,” one of the Aurors said reluctantly. “Mr. Potter can demand-”

“I demand to know why I’m being arrested,” Harry interrupted quickly, and Ron caught his eye and grinned.

“You have been undermining my authority!” Scrimgeour demanded furiously. “You’ve been waging a secret war against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named without Ministry acknowledgment or consent!”

“You mean Voldemort?” Harry asked, just to see Scrimgeour flinch. “ ‘Waging a secret war’? Merlin, you sound like Fudge! I’ve been doing no such thing! I’ve been preparing to defend myself, just like everyone else!”

“So you say,” Scrimgeour shot back. “We’ll see if the Wizengamot thinks the same!” He turned to the Aurors. “Arrest him!”

“Where’s your proof?” Ron demanded quickly. “Because under The Wizarding Code of Law for Magical Criminal Apprehension and Prosecution, Statute 47.8 Sub-clause 2, you must show probable cause in order to make an arrest, unless one of the same exceptions of Statute 47.8 Sub-clause 1 is met.”

Harry was gaping at Ron again, and the Minister was turning purple with rage. “I know the law, I am the Minister!” Scrimgeour shouted. “I have my proof! And the Wizengamot will hear all of it!”

“Sir… that’s not allowed,” the same Auror said weakly. “Unless you present proof prior to the arrest, the accused can have the charges thrown out…” He stuttered to a halt and shrank back under Scrimgeour’s glare.

“Are you prepared to present your proof right here in front of these witnesses?” Ron demanded. The Minister looked ready to throttle them right there, but said nothing. “In that case, we’ll be on our way,” he said, grabbing Harry by the arm and steering him around the three Ministry officials.

They walked quickly away. Harry heard a snarl of rage and looked back long enough to see Scrimgeour start loudly chewing out the legally minded Auror. “That was brilliant!” he exclaimed, grinning at Ron. “Where did you—?”

“Hang on, wait until we’re further away,” Ron muttered, so they picked up the pace and all but ran until they were two thirds of the way back to Fred and George’s shop. “There,” Ron said, slowing down. “That was a lot more fun that punching him,” he said with a grin.

“Ron, where did that come from?” Harry asked. “Not that I’m not glad you knew that stuff, but—”

“Hermione looked it up,” Ron said. “After you refused to help Scrimgeour, and what he did in St. Mungo’s, she thought he might try to get back at you by trumping up some charge and locking you up. So she looked up some important rules of wizarding criminal law, and she, Ginny and I all memorized them in case we were with you and something like this happened. Some of the others know it all too: Luna, Fred and George, Angelina…Neville too, before he was Obliviated. Didn’t think you’d mind,” he finished with a smirk.

“Mind? Hell no!” Harry chortled as they walked up to the front door of the shop and knocked to be let in. “The look on Scrimgeour’s face was priceless!”

They went through the shop to the back and Flooed over to the House of Black, where they tracked down Hermione and Ginny in Hermione and Ron’s room. The girls were a bit giggly when they let Harry and Ron in, although Hermione’s eyes looked slightly red. Harry and Ron related what had happened with Scrimgeour; “Thanks for thinking of that, Hermione,” Harry said, beaming at her. “I thought Scrimgeour was going to have a heart attack right in the middle of Diagon Alley!”

Ginny chuckled while Hermione looked half-amused, half-exasperated. “You’ll have to be careful from now on, Harry,” she chastised. “Well, more careful. It seems fairly obvious that Scrimgeour’s taking the same attitude with you that Fudge did.”

“No, it’s worse,” Ron said darkly. “Fudge never tried to chuck Harry in Azkaban.”

“No, but he tried to get me thrown out of Hogwarts,” Harry pointed out. “Which considering that Voldemort was looking for me probably would have been a death sentence since I wouldn’t have my wand to protect myself.”

“Harry, do you honestly think we would’ve left you on your own if that happened?” Ginny asked sarcastically. “Mum probably would have locked you in the Burrow instead of me!”

Harry went a bit red. “Yeah, that’s true. Thanks,” he said. “Er, Hermione, there’s something I don’t get…the law Ron recited said that proof has to be presented before an arrest, right? But Fudge all but chucked me out of Hogwarts with a lot less…”

“He tried to expel you but Dumbledore reminded him rather strongly that he couldn’t, remember?” Hermione said. “And as to how you were dealt with… Fudge was drastically overstepping his authority, exactly as Scrimgeour just attempted to. Fudge managed to get further with it,” she continued hotly, “because for some ridiculous reason, students have fewer rights than criminals.” Harry nodded, seeing how it could be interpreted that way. Hermione took a deep breath to calm herself down. “There’s another larger concern we have to consider now, Harry,” she said. “Scrimgeour accused you of waging a secret war against Voldemort. He’s exactly right, although I’m not convinced he knows that; but he couldn’t have known about what we’re doing unless a spy of Voldemort’s in the Ministry tipped him off.”

“Could he have made a lucky guess?” Ginny asked. “Maybe he thinks we were recruiting Ernie last night or something? That would be a reasonable guess, and almost true…”

“No,” Harry said thoughtfully. “He believed what he said. He didn’t have solid proof or he would have said what it was, but he’s certain it’s true. And it was too close to the truth to be a coincidence. Someone must have told him. It could be a spy for Voldemort, or…”

“What?” Ron asked when Harry didn’t continue.

Harry frowned. “I’ve been worried that there might still be a spy in the Order of the Phoenix,” he said grimly. “McGon- er, Minerva knows we’re working against Voldemort, even though she doesn’t know how; and when Lupin took me aside earlier he made it clear that Minerva told him. And Mr. and Mrs. Weasley probably figured it out, since I told them about the House of Black, and sort of implied what we’re up to. Charlie probably suspects something. Tonks knows, she’s in the D.A. So is Dung, even though he knows next to nothing. There’s a lot of people in the Order who could’ve figured it out, too.”

“Do you think there’s a spy for Voldemort,” Hermione asked, “or a spy for the Minstry?”

“Both. Either. I’m not sure,” Harry said, clearly frustrated. “We know there’s Voldemort’s spies in the Ministry, so I think it’s fair to assume there could just as easily be spies in the Order. Snape’s proof of that.” The others nodded, not happy with what Harry was saying, but unable to refute it. “The Ministry definitely knows about the Order…could they be forcing Tonks to spy for them? Or Kingsley Shacklebolt?” He sighed. “I wish I was more comfortable with this double-agent stuff. It’s giving me a headache.”

“Look, I don’t think this changes how we’re going to move forward,” Ginny pointed out. “We didn’t trust anyone in the Ministry before, and we’re not about to start—except Tonks and Dad, of course, and even then we’re careful about what information we give them. And we’ve always been a bit wary about what we tell the Order; we should just be even more careful from now on.”

Everyone agreed that Ginny’s scenario made sense. “Okay,” Harry said. “Tomorrow Diagon Alley will be open again; if Fred and George say it’s okay, Lee, Susan and Sally-Ann can open the store, and the rest of us can try to get back to business as usual. Or as usual as it ever gets for us.”