Shades of Truth

Shades of Truth

Chapter 6

*****

“I’m going to have to tell her what I’m doing if I want her help.” Harry set a plate of breakfast in front of his guest. “She’ll want to know everything, and what I don’t tell her she’ll figure out.”

“She’s smart, but I’m quite sure she’s not going to figure this out, so you can just keep it quiet.” The response was delayed as the other took their time to season the eggs with what Harry felt was an obscene amount of pepper. “You swore, and I will not release you from your oath just yet.”

“Then tell me how we’re going to complete this without everyone finding out the truth anyway?” Harry wanted to know. They’d been through this a million times, and it was frustrating how the other would never bend in the slightest.

“We cannot risk the revelation coming to light too soon. You must be patient. Did Dumbledore never teach you the value of dramatic timing?”

“Dumbledore himself admitted that things would have gone smoother and lives would have been saved had he let me know those things which I needed to know earlier than he did.” Harry countered. “Did he never tell you that?”

“He was right to keep you in the dark. You were a child then, and you still are.”

“Here’s your coffee.” Harry set the mug down with such force it sloshed over the table and burned his hand.

“And once again, your childishness only causes unnecessary injury.” The other chuckled lightly as he cursed and ran to run cold water over his hand. “Tell her what you can without telling that which would break your promise to me. Remember, if you tell her too much, you’ll risk breaking other promises as well.”

“He said not to show them, he didn’t say I couldn’t tell anyone about what I saw.” Harry spat defiantly.

“You know what he intended as well as I do. You would not break your word to him, however little I mean to you, however little Draco means to you.”

“Don’t you presume to know…” Harry stopped himself and felt his face go red.

“Oh? I see, now that is an interesting development.”

“Shut up.” Harry shot impotently before leaving the house. He knew he wasn’t angry with his guest. He was angry with himself and his own inability to do things on his own. He needed Hermione’s help, but how he would get it without giving away the game too early, he had no idea. Secretly, he wished that she knew everything already, but he knew she’d tell Ron, and he’d never understand.

Everyone will know eventually, you said it yourself.

Yes, but he could think of what words of explanation he could offer Ron later. To Ron, no matter the proof, Draco would always be his sister’s killer, and for that, he deserved death in the Weasley’s mind.

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“I forgot to ask you who we’re witnessing today.” Draco asked as Harry prepared his Pensieve and set out the memory.

“Lavender Brown.” Harry answered, and after a brief pause decided to elaborate. “Nott gave it to me.”

“Really?” Draco looked very impressed and vaguely horrified, as if Harry had just claimed he could teach dragons to be good nursemaids. “How did you get that?”

“Uh, I’m not actually sure.” Harry coughed uncomfortably. “Blaise made me pay him, but at least he didn’t flip out and cover me in glass and ale.”

“Oh, I see.” Draco nodded, a knowing look on his face. “You called him Theodore, didn’t you?”

“I take it he’s not a fan of his given name?” Harry asked, wishing he’d mentioned who he was visiting before so that Draco could warn him.

“Named after his grandfather, one of the vilest old men I’ve ever had the displeasure of knowing. And I knew the Dark Lord and my father.” Draco gave a short laugh. “I personally think his father did it as a sacrifice to appease the man and keep him from visiting. Didn’t really work.” He leaned forward with a conspiratorial grin on his face. “When we were in third year, Crabbe called him Theodore, and Nott hit him once. Just once, and Crabbe was in the hospital wing three nights.”

“Guess I got off light, then.” Harry raised his eyebrows.

“No, I think he’s just mellowed out a lot.” Draco took a deep breath. “Are you ready to go, then?”

“Yeah, this is the last Three Broomsticks death, finally.” Harry was more relieved than he could believe as they both entered the memory.

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“I used to enjoy this place, you know.” Draco told Harry as they made their way toward Lavender Brown, who had rejoined the battle after getting her friend out of the fray. She’d have been better off looking after the other girl, but Harry admired the bravery of a girl he’d more than once thought was shallow and flighty. She was strong when it mattered, though.

“Well, don’t worry about ever seeing it in real life.” Harry advised him, “Madame Rosmerta won’t let you so much as set a toe inside, though I’ve tried to get her to forgive those who weren’t imprisoned.”

“You can’t blame her, this had to have cost a fortune to repair.” Draco shrugged. “Now then, where are we, now that we’ve found the center of this particular memory?” he gazed around. “You’re doing well, considering.”

“Yeah,” Harry pursed his lips, trying not to think of how foolishly he’d behaved their last time in the Pensieve. Draco must think him a gibbering idiot. “You never came back from helping Pansy.”

“Well, I did what I could.” Draco gave a half smile to Harry as they turned their attention to Lavender Brown, who was rushing to help Dean Thomas to his feet after he got hit by another Stunner and cracked his head against the floor. “He doesn’t know when to quit, does he?”

“Dean was not the best defensive fighter we had, but he was one of the most persistent. It was amazing what he could keep going through.” Harry answered, watching Lavender help the dazed boy toward the exit.

“There’s Nott.” Draco pointed toward the slender young man who cast some hex that caused Lavender to trip, leading to the pair of Gryffindors stumbling to their knees only to stand up once more. “He loved tripping hexes. I’d almost believe he was just casting them at random, just to mess with…” Draco trailed off as he witnessed Nott cast the same hex on his own father. “Okay, I guess he is.” His next victim was Hermione Granger, who was actually saved from being nailed by a hex because of her sudden fall, followed swiftly by her opponent, Lucius Malfoy, who leapt to his feet and looked around to try and spot who had cast the hex. “Wow, talk about a great equalizer.”

“What is with him?” Harry asked, not really expecting an answer. Nott had just turned about and strolled back the way he came, ostensibly deciding that he’d tripped enough people for the day. Somehow, no one started dueling with him or seemed to see him as a threat. For good measure, he cast another tripping hex on a former target, whose face was red with rage, though he had no idea where the trouble was coming from. “His own father? Did he have issues with his father?”

“That would be an understatement.” Draco replied, and they watched as Nott’s father looked around wildly to see who could have hexed him, spotted Lavender just entering the Three Broomsticks again, and swiftly cast the killing curse on her. Lavender fell in a graceful arc, as though she was going down in slow motion. A moment later, Nott cast a Stunner on his father so strong the man flew through the air and fell on the body of the girl he’d just killed. His son kicked his head as he continued toward the door. He bent over, and Harry assumed that he was going to carry his father out of the chaos, but instead he pushed the skinny body aside and picked up the beautiful corpse beneath it, carrying the girl out of the pub and away from the battle.

“What just happened?” Harry frowned at Draco. “Did Nott and Lavender…”

“Don’t ask me. I thought he just hated everyone.” Draco replied.

“But he helped you.” Harry countered. “Even though he knew we’d see this.”

“He’s surprised me before.” Draco answered. “I can never decide whether he wants me dead or wants me to be his friend.”

“Well, we’ve seen enough of this.” Harry grabbed his hand and they left the memory in a flurry. He immediately began packing up his things.

“Are you seeing another of my old housemates today?” Malfoy asked as he helped Harry with the Pensieve while the other man scribbled a few notes out to look over later. “I could offer you advise so you don’t end up covered in your drink again.”

“No.” Harry let the ink dry, putting away his quill and ink and turning to face the man standing beside him. “No, I have to go visit St. Mungo’s.”

“Um,” Malfoy bit his lip, trying to think of what Harry was going to be doing at the hospital. “Who’s at St. Mungo’s?”

“Well,” Harry took a deep breath, “I’m working on a few different deaths right now. I think that for one or two, we may end up needing to do some Legilimency to access what’s been buried in your mind. However, I really don’t want to risk damaging your mind, so I’m going to get every one I can from other sources. Also, I don’t think you were present for some of them in the first place. I have an idea for one of them, but I’ll need help from someone with more knowledge of specialized magical objects…”

“Hermione Granger.” Draco nodded. “Does she work there now?”

“No, actually,” Harry answered, not surprised he had seen who would be needed for help on specialized research right away. “She’s an Unspeakable.”

“Of course.” Draco rolled his eyes. “I should have guessed. It was either that or a librarian.”

“Anyway, one of the others, I know someone who was there, but they haven’t been…well, very well since what happened, so I’m going to have to visit them in the patient’s ward at St. Mungo’s.” Harry admitted. “I’m hoping to be able to get through to him, or at least to use a bit of Legilimency to extract the knowledge I need.”

“Who are you visiting?” Draco asked, overcome with curiosity.

“George Weasley.” Harry answered and Draco saw that he was clearly not looking forward to this. Not thinking about it, he leaned forward and hugged Harry tightly, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“I want you to know, I appreciate what you’re doing, even if it doesn’t work.” He whispered in Harry’s ear, and he was surprised at how tightly the other man hugged him back.

“I know you do.” He whispered back, his face flushed as they separated. “Thank you.”

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“We’ve set up a separate room so you can talk with him in privacy as long as you like, Mr. Potter,” a nurse breathlessly led him down the hallway, her eyes bright and hopeful as she walked beside one of the most well known men in the wizarding world. “We’ll have someone stationed outside, so you can call for help if he gets upset or anything happens.”

“I’m sure it will be fine.” Harry wished the girl would stop making doe eyes at him, it was embarrassing for both of them, frankly. “Thank you so much, nurse.”

“You can call me Emily.” She was blushing brightly now that he was looking at her in the face, as they’d reached the room where George was waiting. “And if there’s anything else you’d like, Mr. Potter, anything at all, don’t hesitate.”

“That’s very kind of you, I’m sure.” He excused himself politely and entered the sanitary looking hospital room, empty but for a pair of chairs, one of which had a silent, vacant looking occupant. Harry shut the door behind him and tried to bite back the tears that came to his eyes whenever he saw the lone Weasley twin. He’d never been the same since Fred’s death during the war. Insane with grief, he’d somehow made his escape, being forced to leave the body (if there was anything left of it) behind in the process. Harry had suspected that the twins had thought to avenge their sister’s death by infiltrating one of the Death Eaters known areas of operation: Malfoy Manor. However, things had not gone well, and only one of them had come out of it alive. He was found a day’s walk from the borders of the estate, curled up in a ball and unable to communicate with anyone. For days, the only things he would say were “Where’s Fred?” and “Where’s Malfoy?” leading everyone to believe that his brother had been killed by Lucius or Draco. When the younger admitted to the murder, no one had questioned it until Harry had been advised of other possibilities. He was positive that if a Malfoy had killed Fred, it was Lucius, but he needed proof. He knew that it was locked in George’s mind, if he could get to it.

However, since the accident, George had not gotten any better, as far as anyone could see. Now, whenever he spoke at all, it was to ask where his brother was, though it appeared that he had gotten rather confused by the incident, and would sometimes ask for Fred, sometimes for George. Harry thought it was like seeing one person being cut in half, one half dying and the other half being forced to go on living, trying to accomplish alone all the things it had needed to be full for. Of course, he still went with the Weasleys to visit him every Christmas, and he knew that Lee Jordan, and a good number of surviving Gryffindor Quidditch team members visited him on his birthday. Unfortunately, it seemed he would never recover what he had lost when his other half had died.

“Hello, George,” Harry’s heart broke to see someone so full of life become so utterly dead and devoid, and that is the way he felt any time he visited George. “I’ve come to ask some questions. About Fred.”

“Where’s Fred?” George looked around vaguely, as though he had just woken up and was expecting to see his twin in the room.

Harry didn’t bother to answer that. “Do you remember what happened to him, George? At Malfoy Manor?”

“George…where’s George?” he looked around in the same sleepy manner as before.

“Do you remember who killed Fred?” Harry asked, and that got a reaction. George’s face became red as a tomato and he let out a short shriek before tears began pouring down his face. “That’s right, I know it’s sad, George, but I need you to think about Fred. Who killed Fred?”

“He’s lost.” Fat tears continued rolling down his face. “I lost him.”

“I know, he’s died, who killed him, George?” Harry pressed, excited that he was getting something other than his generic response. “Who killed Fred?”

“I killed them, I killed them all.” George scrubbed at his eyes like a small child might. “He killed them all and so did I but he’s lost.”

“George, please, if you’d just tell me, I could help draw out the memory, I could find who did it if they’re still alive. If not, I could find Fred’s body, and we could bury it in the Weasley plot. Would you like that? To bring Fred home.” Harry pressed, but he doubted George had understood any of what he’d said.

“Where’s George?” was the only response he received, and he knew he’d moved too fast. He decided to try something else.

“Where’s Fred?” he asked, not knowing if this would work or if it would just make George angry. “Where did Fred go?”

“Where’s…Fred?” George sounded a bit confused and hesitant.

“Yes, where did he go? Do you know where Fred is? Where did you see him last?” Harry asked almost as though they were playing a game of hide and go seek.

“In the sun.” George answered, sounding as if he were half asleep. “I see him in the sun. He’s beautiful.”

“Yes, I remember that, he was beautiful, wasn’t he?” Harry agreed, grabbing hold of his wand and readying himself for when the memory he wanted came to the surface. “Was that where you left him?”

“Fred?” George sounded scared, and younger than Harry could believe. “Fred? I can’t see you!”

“Where did he go?” Harry encouraged George, not sure this would work, but hoping it was worth all the grief. “Where’s Fred at?”

“He was in front, to protect me, I protect him, he protects me because it’s perfect.” George sighed softly as though remembering a happy time, and the tears were back. “He’s perfect with me there, too.”

“Where are you?” Harry pressed, not wanting to just extract a memory of them in their days at Hogwarts.

“Hold my hand, I’m scared.” George whimpered, and Harry knew that George was not talking to him. In any case, he knew better than to touch him. George usually started screaming when people tried to hold his hand or hug him after what had happened. “Fred, I’ll come back for you, I swear. I love you.”

“Where are you?” Harry pushed again, “Where’s Fred?”

“Malfoy…” George collapsed in a sobbing mess, and Harry knew he’d found what he was looking for. Pressing the wand to George’s temple, he extracted the memory he’d come for, bottled it up, and by the time he put it in his robes, George was back to his normal behavior.

“Where’s Fred?” he asked Harry as though he really was expecting an answer.

“I’ll find him for you, if I can.” Harry answered. “I’ll bring him home.”

*****

To be Continued…