Hard Time

Chapter Four: A Witch and a Wand


“The Minster of Magic?” Harry asked, looking past Molly to see if Kingsley, who recently had officially assumed the post, was waiting on the landing of the stairs.

Molly clapped a hand on his back, guiding him down the stairs. “He’s waiting outside—he said he needed to speak with you in private.”

Harry groaned inwardly. More leftover business from Voldemort or the Death Eaters, most likely. Hadn’t he done his part already? All he wanted these days was to be left alone, in peace. But he knew that he couldn’t; he was still the only person who had all the knowledge the wizarding world needed to understand what all had happened, and the significance of it. He walked out onto the porch area, where Kingsley was standing, dressed in his customary set of black and purple robes, his dark skin shiny with perspiration. He looked tired.

Kingsley led Harry over towards the barn, and found a shady tree to stand under; the weather had been miserably hot lately. “What is it?” Harry asked, as they watched Mrs. Weasley disappear back into the house. Ginny was nowhere to be seen.

“Well, you know, we’re trying to tie up all loose ends, make sure that anyone who was under an Imperius curse is now free, that there aren’t any more Death Eaters hiding in the Ministry ranks. Repairs continue at Hogwarts and Gringotts. The Ministry’s under a complete rehaul. You’ll be happy to know the Wizengamot has sentenced Delores Umbridge to five years at Azkaban for her assistance with the whole Muggle-born debacle.”

“It should have been ten,” Harry muttered, rubbing his hand where the scars from his punishment with her would probably never fade.

Kingsley shrugged. “Be that as it may, she’s being punished. Azkaban is full, and I do mean full—we’re scrambling, trying to find places to put all these wizards who have committed crimes while the Death Eaters and You Know Who were running things, trying to make sure that the Muggle-born wizards and witches are all safe and accounted for. We’re trying to basically rebuild our whole society. I’ve commissioned for a new, more modern prison to be built, something a bit more humane than Azkaban. But for the time being, that’s all that we’ve got. And of course every one of them has to be tried, and they’re all scrambling to build their defenses, make their appeals. It’s a legal nightmare at the moment.”

Harry wanted to ask what all that had to do with him, but he had a feeling he already knew. He knew the names of more Death Eaters than most, thanks in no small part to his glimpses into Voldemort's thoughts during the hunt for Horcruxes. After the last battle, the Ministry had asked him to relate as much information as he could about what he knew. He'd hoped it would be enough. "He's dead, you know. You can say his name now."

"Voldemort," Kingsley said, with a little grimace. "Old habits die hard. Anyways, I'm here because one of the appeals directly asked for you to testify. It's Narcissa Malfoy. She's claiming that she saved your life and that her sentence should be dropped" It was obvious by the way he spoke that he thought little of this notion and was only waiting for Harry to deny it.

Harry gulped in surprise. "You've been holding her?" Truthfully, he hadn't been following things. He hadn't included the Malfoy family in his list of Death Eaters, and had hoped by their sitting with all the victorious in Hogwart's Great Hall that they'd be counted as having switched sides. Not that he trusted Lucius, but from what he'd seen over the last year, their cooperation had been forced, at best. Their actions in the final battle had confirmed that for him. He still remembered Dumbledore's plea to Draco, a message he somehow felt had been meant for him as well. Come over to the right side, Draco . . ." Inherent in that message had been that if he should ever have the opportunity to nudge Draco in the right direction, he should. Dumbledore had even offered the Order's protection. That had to mean something.

Kingsley nodded. "Well of course. Yo--Voldemort was staying in their house! They were all known Death Eaters, the Malfoys."

Of course Kingsley would see it that way. Harry felt a lump of guilt settle in his stomach; he should have been paying closer attention. "She's right. She did save my life. She lied when Voldemort asked if I was dead. If she hadn't lied, he would have killed me. I would have failed." He'd tried to explain what had gone on in the Forbidden Forest to a few of his friends, including Ron, Hermione, and McGonnagall, who needed to know exactly what all Dumbledore had done, both for the wizarding world and for Hogwarts. He'd also given an abbreviated version to Kingsley.

This however, he had not told Kingsley. "She did? Hmmm." Kingsley appeared to think things over. "Well that's going to delay a few things then. You'll definitely need to testify. Can you come to the Wizengamot at the Ministry tomorrow afternoon? We'll want to get this settled quickly."

Harry nodded emphatically. "They'll release her, then?"

Kingsley shrugged again. "I don't know. She was still a known Death Eater in the company of You Know Who--I mean Voldemort. But certainly I think it may reduce her sentence. There are other factors involved." He looked uncomfortable. "You see, all the Malfoy's property has been seized. The Ministry's strapped for cash, having to reorganize, conduct all these courtroom hearings, and the repairs not only to places like Hogwarts but to Muggle residences and businesses that the Death Eaters destroyed in their attacks. It all has to be paid for. So we're seizing assets from any convicted Death Eater. The Malfoy Manor is scheduled to be up for auction next week."

He looked Harry over. "You could put in a bid, you know--I know you've been receiving payments and gifts for your services. The Grimmauld place is central, true, but you'll never be able to cleanse it of the Black family presence. You might want to look at something nicer. The money would go towards all the repairs."

Harry could not hide his shock. The Malfoy Manor? His? It was unthinkable. And yet, also unthinkable was the idea that Narcissa and her son, after all they'd been through . . . and now they had nothing. Draco destitute. It was almost unimaginable.

Kingsley put a hand on Harry's shoulder, startling him out of his thoughts. "Are you all right? I know you don't want to put yourself in the middle of things again. You deserve your peace. But if you could just testify what you told me, in front of the Wizengamot, then I think things should be settled."

Dazedly, Harry nodded. "I can be there."

Kinglsey smiled. "Good man. I'll see you tomorrow there at one, then. Give my regards to the Weasleys." With a pat to Harry's back, he stood up, then Apparated off.

Harry returned to the house. Molly was there, looking expectantly at him, but he shook his head. He wasn't ready to answer questions at the moment. He headed back up to Ron's room, where he'd been staying, closing the door after him and sighing. Testifying for Narcissa Malfoy. There was something he'd never envisioned doing. And Azkaban was full. Was Draco there too, he wondered? Staying with his mum and dad? That would make sense to keep the families together, but he remembered Hagrid's and Sirius's tales of the place, and shuddered. Even without Dementors, it sounded awful.

He had a serious urge to go to Malfoy Manor and find out more about the auction. But why? He hardly had pleasant memories of the place. They'd almost delivered him to Voldemort, and Bellatrix had tortured Hermione there, not to mention Wormtail's death. And Dobby.

Given all that, part of him never wanted to see the place again. But he couldn't help seeing the look on Draco's face when they'd asked him to identify Harry. That supreme reluctance, that fear. Draco should have wanted to help turn him in--wouldn't that have eased things for him? So why hadn't he? It wasn't enough to get him out of Azkaban, Harry was almost positive of that, especially when Ron and Hermione would only be too happy to testify how Draco had tried to keep them from finding the diadem. It wouldn't look like Draco had been changing sides.

Harry went over to his pack, the one he'd been living out of for most of the year, which he still hadn't fully unpacked. No matter how many times he repeated it to himself, he still couldn't quite get used to the fact that it was all over. That he didn't have to hide any longer. From the pack he pulled out a little wooden chest of drawers, each drawer locked. There was something inside each drawer, but right now he only was concerned with the top drawer. Taking a key from inside his pocket, he opened the drawer, and drew out a wand. Hawthorn and unicorn hair. Draco's wand.

It was a smart looking wand, simple and refined. Harry held the wand, and he could feel his affinity with it, that connection that had helped him to defeat Voldemort. Was it really just that he'd wrested it from its previous owner, that gave him that bond? Or was it something deeper, some tie between him and its former owner? He stroked the wood, feeling the power of it, feeling almost a heady sense that it would do anything for him. His own wand had felt like an old friend. But it didn't give him this . . . high.

He squirmed a little, feeling his heart beating faster, feeling a strange flutter in his stomach. What was wrong with him? He rubbed his finger over the tip, and felt almost a shiver go through him, heat flowing up his hands. It felt so good.

With an abrupt realization, Harry dropped the wand back into the drawer and quickly closed it. Cripes, he was getting turned on by a bloody wand. Perhaps he really should have taken Ginny up on her offer. Lying down on the bed, he stared up at the ceiling, trying to make sense of things. The funny thing was, he hadn't really thought about sex at all over the last year. He'd been so focused on destroying Voldemort that there hadn't been room for any other thoughts. Ginny was right. He needed to figure out what he wanted.

He tried to imagine kissing her again, tried to recall some of the fantasies he'd had back in 5th year--but those had been relatively innocent. Thoughts of her stroking his hair, holding him. Comforting thoughts, during dark times. So kissing her; he knew what that felt like. Kissing her, and sliding a hand inside her blouse, cupping a breast . . . oh God, no. His mind didn't even want to go there.

What was wrong with him?

Swiftly, Harry searched for other images, anything, trying to prove that he wasn't completely asexual, or screwed up. Himself, lying with his head in Ginny's lap . . . but that image immediately morphed into another one, one he had seen while on the train to Hogwarts, hidden under his Invisibility Cloak. Draco, lying on the seat with his head in Blaise's lap, Blaise stroking his hair. Or had it been Pansy? But no, he liked the idea of Blaise better. The image flowed naturally, from Blaise petting Draco's hair to Blaise letting his hand trail further down Draco's body, leaning over to kiss him . . .

Harry sat up, feeling a very uncomfortable jolt to his cock. No. That wasn't possible. He simply had Draco on the brain today. It didn't mean anything.

Resolutely, he got up and put away the chest of drawers, straightening up the room until the uncomfortable feeling finally went away. He'd go testify, and come back immediately after. No need to go look at the Manor. No need to think more about any of it. Draco had chosen his friends, and that was it.

He went downstairs to help Molly in the kitchen.

***

TBC