Hard Time

Chapter Nine: A Rescue Plan


Kingsley sat at his desk tapping his fingers, waiting for what he knew would be a very distraught young man. He shuffled papers on the desk, feeling every pound the weight of the position as Minister of Magic. Some days he just wanted to scream at people, "Can't you see what will come of this? Show some reason, for Merlin's sake!" Today he wanted to add, "Show some compassion!"

But he had seen clearly that you didn't have to be a Death Eater to be prejudiced. Or cruel. Or nefarious. There were still all shades of grey even on the 'good' side. And apparently on the bad one as well, if Harry's account of Narcissa was anything near correct. Dumbledore would have smiled.

The door opened, and Percy stepped in, giving a nod to Kinsley. "He's here, sir."

Kingsley nodded back, and stood, his hand brushing a red memo still trying to flutter its unfolded wings on his desktop. "Bring him in."

Percy nodded and stepped out. Kingsley took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Sirius, Remus, Dumbledore . . . any or all of you could probably handle this better than me. Today was not about being Minister. No, it was about trying to provide guidance for a young man who had lost far too many father figures. He knew that Arthur tried to do his best, but there were things about Harry that Arthur would simply never understand. Only the veteran Phoenix members from the first war understood how war could change a person. And Harry had basically been at war his entire life.

Harry entered with Percy beside him. At Kingsley's look, Percy slipped quietly out, closing the door behind him. Percy was a good man--now that he had his priorities straight. He knew when Kingsley needed some privacy. They would not be disturbed.

One look at Harry told Kingsley that the young man had not slept well. There were circles under his eyes, and his dark hair was even more unkempt than usual. There was also just a tiny bit of stubble along his jawline. Not a boy any longer. Kingsley indicated the chair by his desk. "Please sit. You're probably wondering why I owled you this morning."

"It's about what happened yesterday during my visit to Azkaban, isn't it," Harry said, looking down. He walked over to the chair but did not sit down, gripping the back of the chair tight enough that his knuckles turned white.

Kingsley swallowed. This was not going to be easy. "Yes, partly because of that. I need you to give me a full report, Harry. I know it's difficult, but the guards aren't telling us much. It's important I have all the details."

Was it Kingsley's imagination, or did Harry blush? "Well, they probably sent you a report that there was an . . . incident." Harry let go of the chair and began pacing the room. Kingsley sat down at his desk.

"Yes. I understand that they had intended to pull Draco Malfoy from the common room when you arrived so that you could speak with him, but that apparently he was not in the common room."

Harry nodded. "A guard--his name was Bertie--escorted me back to Draco's cell."

Kingsley raised an eyebrow. "While the other inmates were still out and about?" That hadn't been on the report, which wasn't surprising. At least one guard was going to be reprimanded for that breach of security.

Harry shrugged. "I had my wand and so did the guard. They pestered us a little verbally, but nobody approached us." He chewed on his lip, looking at pictures on the wall of former Ministers, his gaze hardening as he came across Cornelius Fudge.

"And? Then what happened?" This part is important, because there had been discrepancy in the report, on whether or not Harry had been present for the discovery. Kingsley held a pencil, tapping it on the desk. He grimaced as the pencil snapped in two.

There was no mistaking the blush now, and that by itself told Kingsley the answer. "He . . . um, well apparently there was a prostitution thing going on in the cell. Draco was the, um, you know. And we sort of walked in on it."

"The whore, you mean?" It surprised Kingsley and yet it did not, that Draco would fall to such things. Poor Harry, to have witnessed it.

"Yeah." Harry scrubbed at his cheek, as if the blush would come off. "I mean--well technically. I don't think it was his idea." And now he looked over at Kingsley, and there was anger in his eyes. "He was pretty beat up. I don't know who did it. I'm thinking there were several involved."

Kingsley set down the broken pencil, trying to keep his face calm. "What makes you say that?"

Harry scratched at the back of his neck. The blush was not getting any lighter; if anything, it was worse. "Because of the different sets of teeth marks on him."

Merlin's Beard. "And did you make that assessment in the cell or later when you talked to him?" Kingsley hated to add it, but he asked the necessary additional question. "How do you know he didn't want the marks and the bites?"

A vein on Harry's forehead bulged, and if he had been someone other than Minister, not to mention former Auror and Phoenix member, Kingsley might have been afraid. Harry wasn't simply angry. He was livid. "Because he wasn't--you know. Hard. And he was staring off into space, like it wasn't even happening to him. And he was hurt. I mean really hurt. He was having trouble breathing when I talked to him--and yes, I made the assessment about the marks then--that's when I checked him up close." He began pacing again. "The guard--Bertie--he said Draco would be punished for it. Did they? That isn't right, you know. They should have punished Scabior--or--whoever else was in charge of things."

Kingsley made the decision to stand again, crossing over to Harry to lay a comforting hand on his shoulder. "They won't punish Draco for this. I'll see to that. Are there any other details I should know about? What was Draco's mental state when you spoke with him?"

Harry slowed and stood, nodding to himself, the blush finally starting to die away, replaced by the indignity and the anger. "That's good. He was . . . I don't know. At first he seemed like his old self back at school. Haughty and acid-tongued, you know. Then the next moment he wasn't. I think he was upset I'd seen him like that--he's always been proud."

Harry didn't say it, but Kingsley could guess what he was thinking. The Malfoys had to be having a hard time of it right now, losing their stature. "Did you tell him about Narcissa?"

That received a quick nod. "He seemed to already know about it. He got angry at me for checking on him. He didn't want me to find the bruises." Harry chewed on his lip again, turning to face Kingsley. "He should be checked at St. Mungo's or something. I'm sure there was more I didn't see--that was just on his torso."

Kingsley nodded absently. He needed to keep Harry focused on yesterday for the moment. "Did he mention anything about his cell mates?"

Harry shook his head. "No. He said 'all of them' were tormenting him. And that he'd asked for his own cell but the guards hadn't listened." His eyes flashed with heat. "There has to be something you can do, Kingsley. Bump up his hearing. Get him his own cell at least. To be honest with you, I don't think he belongs in there at all."

"And what makes you say that? Did he help you also?"

Harry grimaced, squirming again. Kingsley braced himself for the answer. "No . . . not exactly. But he was so inept in helping what was supposedly his side, it almost seemed like he was. Like--I don't know what all McGonnagall told you about Dumbledore's death. But Voldemort asked Draco to do it, to kill Dumbledore. He told Draco he had to, or he'd kill him and his family. But Draco didn't do it. He made a few weak attempts that failed, but when he got Dumbledore supposedly alone, he couldn't cast the spell. Dumbledore told Draco he wasn't a killer, that there was still hope for him. He saw something there worth rescuing. And Dumbledore had immobilized me, under my Invisibility Cloak, so he knew I was watching and listening. He wanted me to hear that. So I feel like it's something I should try and do, you know? And later, the next year, when the Snatchers caught me, Draco wouldn't identify me. And he kept Goyle and Crabbe from killing any of us in the Room of Requirement." Harry snorted softly to himself. "Of course, I don't know really what he was doing there in the first place. I don't know if he actually knew I'd go there, or if he was just trying to hide during the battle."

And in the end, it was inconclusive for Kingsley. Harry might simply be acting altruistically; there was just no way to tell for certain. He walked over to the desk and picked up the red memo.

"So will you move up his hearing, as soon as possible? And make sure he gets some treatment there in Azkaban? And at least change his cell--not his current one, and not Scabior. Or maybe he's got worse enemies in the place--I don't know. Recommend him for rehabilitation or something. I mean, what are we doing with all of them in there anyway? Teaching them how to hate us? How are we supposed to heal this community if we don't show some compassion?" Harry was still on his tirade, his hands punctuating points into the air, pacing once again. He stopped when he saw what Kingsley was holding. "What is that?"

Kingsley held out the memo. "I received this notice early this morning--I believe it was actually sent late last night." Here we go, he thought, watching Harry carefully. "It seems Draco Malfoy attempted to take his life last night."

Harry went pale as a ghost. "Attempted? So he's alive, right?" He reached out for the memo but seemed afraid to take it, afraid to see what it said. He snatched his hand back. "Where is he?"

"He's alive--barely. He's under a healing sleep spell, at St. Mungo's." Poor Harry, Kingsley thought, because Harry was already heading for the door. "Harry! There's nothing you can do right now!"

But Harry had already left the office. Kingsley shook his head, sighing. Well that tore it; there was no question in his mind now. Sirius, what would you have told your godson? Would he have warned Harry? Or ignored it as passing fancy, Kingsley wondered; Harry was too like his father. Pig-headed. Warning him might only strengthen his resolve. Still, the thought pierced his heart with fear.

He couldn't let Harry fall for the likes of Draco Malfoy.

***

TBC