The Burden of Evidence
“This special session of the Wizengamot is called to order. These proceedings are in reference to case number 3245; the breaking of the Statue Of Secrecy by one Harry James Potter,”
The voice was loud, booming in fact. Harry could hear it echoing around the chamber as he sat in the chair in the center of it all. All around him, eyes looked down. Eyes. Unblinking. Judging.
It was always unnerving when he knew people were watching him at school. At least there he could try to duck or escape when things got too much. Here though, it was impossible. He was the literal center of attention. No escape. No way out. No distraction. Not even the calming presence of his best friends. Harry felt laid bare, and it made his skin crawl in a way that not even facing down Voldemort could hope to replicate.
“Ahem,” the voice of Umbridge cut through the rush of thoughts that Harry found himself pulled back into the reality of the courtroom, “While we were not made aware of this until the very last minute, Mr. Potter is represented by one Lucius Malfoy. Let it be known that his position on the Wizengamot as the holder of the Malfoy Family seat will have no barring on this case, regardless of what Mr. Potter may think.”
As if knowing exactly what Harry was about to say, Lucius looked over at the teen with a stern look that brokered no argument. Suppressing his huff, Harry instead focused on the wall ahead of him, picturing the equations he was using to figure out the energy composition of magic. It was just enough to help stop him from snapping.
“Hmm,” Umbridge looked down at Harry from her spot on the dais. As did Fudge, the pair expecting an easy win at antagonizing Harry into acting out in court, “As I was saying before I was interrupted,” another glare was given to Harry from Lucius at this, “Lord Malfoy has also secured a witness in this case, one Dudley Dursley,”
As she spoke, the doors to the court swung open. Looking back, Harry was greeted by the image of his cousin, dressed sharply and radiating confidence. Harry could hear the whispers in the courtroom about there being a Muggle in the Wizengamot, but if Dudley heard them it did little stifle his confidence. His eyes were set, looking at no one other than Harry. His strides were brimming with purpose. It was a side of his cousin that Harry had never seen and he could not have been prouder.
“Good on ya Big D,” he whispered as his cousin was directed to take a spot next to Lucius, who looked down at Dudley with a sneer before sliding away from the boy.
“Ahem,” once again the voice of Umbridge seemed to cut through anything with its almost sickeningly sweet tone, “Now that all parties are here and accounted for we can begin,” her face took on an almost sadistic glee, “Mr. Potter you have been accused of the aforementioned crime of performing magic in front of a Muggle and knowingly and purposefully violating the Statue of Secrecy. How do you plead,”
Harry glanced over at Lucius, the man gave him an almost imperceptible nod. Thinking back to their conversation. The way she worded it, clearly if he told the truth she would attempt to close the case right then and there. Yet, it wasn’t like he could lie.
“Is defending yourself and your family considered a crime,” Harry finally answered, turning away to face Umbridge and Fudge
“While defending yourself from harm is allowed, there is no proof that you were ever in such a danger. Unless you will have us believe that you were truly in danger of being kissed by Dementors,” Umbridge pressed
“That is precisely what I am saying. You are asking me if I performed magic, but if it was in a bid to protect myself, I don’t feel I can give an appropriate plea,”
It was bullshit. Harry knew that he was reaching with this. He was sure that, if this was a Muggle court he would have been held in contempt for challenging the question about his plea. However, he wasn’t in Muggle court, he was being tried by Wixen.
“Lord Malfoy. Are you going to allow your client to speak to us like this,” Umbridge rounded on Lucius quickly, “I suggest you press upon him the importance of answering a question directly”
Harry cast another look back at Lucius, trying his best to parse the look on the man's face. He was impossible to read, as he schooled every facial feature in displaying nothing but sheer neutrality.
“Madame Undersecretary, while the manners of my client may leave something to be desired, I do feel that he has made a prudent point. If I may remind you and the rest of the court of a case from 1946, Ms. Velrose was brought before the court on similar charges,”
As if he had been waiting for this moment, Lucius waved his wand in a flourish, conjuring scrolls in front of every member of the Wizengamot as well as Fudge and Umbridge,
“In this case, Ms. Velrose had been camping alongside her Muggle family when they were beset upon by a roaming Liethfold, a creature that has been known to kill without merit. Much how Mr. Potter used the Patronus Charm to ward off the Dementors, so too did Ms. Velrose. To date, she is the second person to have survived such an attack. The only other one is her great-grandfather, Flavius Belby,
“To protect herself from harm, she had no choice but to cast a Patronus to live another day. So, while she was guilty of casting the spell in front of non-magical individuals, she was innocent of doing it for personal gain or malice. The will and right to fight for one’s life should not be tied down to the fetters of the law. Mr. Potter had every right to fight against it,”
“Be that as it may,” Umbridge cut in, her grin growing wider by the moment, “There are no credible witnesses to such an attack. As is very well known, Muggles cannot see a Dementor, merely feel its effects. Yet, you drag one in here as a witness to something that very clearly didn’t take place,”
“But…but I did see them,” Dudley whispered, more to himself than anyone else. In the silence of the courtroom though, almost everyone had heard his words.
“That, Madame Undersecretary,” Lucius’ face showed the first hint of emotions, one of devilish delight, “Is because, despite being told the contrary, Mr. Dursley is a Squib,”
“Impossible,” Fudge shouted, as the gathered members of the Wizengamot began to mutter amongst themselves.
“I’m a what,” Dudley asked in a breathless whisper, looking wildly at Harry who could only respond with a wide-eyed look of shock.
“The nature of squibs is not well documented. Most of what we understand is merely circumstantial. While they have only been documented to be born to at least one Muggle-born, we have only documented four cases since their discovery. What matters to this case is that Mr. Dursley was able to see a Dementor and can testify to their appearance that led to Mr. Potter casting a Patronus,”
Lucius, with all the air of the aristocrat he was, waved Dudley out of the booth they were both in so he could approach the bench where Umbridge and Fudge were sitting.
“I move to have Mr. Dursley give his testimony. Simply put, if the young man can accurately describe the look of a Dementor in his own words, then any wrongdoing that Mr. Potter could have possibly been accused of should be made null and void,”
“And,” Fudge spoke in low tones as he glared at Lucius, “How do we know for sure that you haven’t just supplied the boy with the information beforehand,”
“Then I move to give the boy Vertisiurm. Or will you then question if I got to the Wizengamot’s supply of potions as well,”
The challenge was clear, and Harry was very pleased to have Malfoy on his side. The way the man ruthlessly threw down his words and dared them to be refuted. The message was loud and clear; stop wasting our time. As he watched the stare-down between the Minister, his Undersecretary, and Lucius Malfoy, Harry figured that perhaps Voldemort was owed a small measure of thanks.
Or at the very least, slightly less sass than he had been giving him.
Fudge looked to be chewing over his words in an almost literal fashion as his jaw seemed to flex and twitch. Those eyes of his kept looking around the room, as if trying to find some kind of out or excuse to not proceed. When he found none, the man heaved a tired sigh, knowing that this would probably put a nail in the case.
“Very well. You may have the boy step forth as a witness without the use of Vertisirum,” he said behind clenched teeth
“Minster Fudge, you can’t seriously allow this…charlatan of a man to move forward with this frankly ridiculous plan,” Umbridge attempted to argue
“I am. The sooner this is over the sooner we can move on to our more pressing case of the day,”
At his words, Umbridge seemed to fall silent, but a smile seemed to light up her face. Her gaze, for just a moment, was fixated upon Harry. The way her small eyes locked onto him made Harry’s skin prickle with a shiver of cold. There was nothing about that grin, one so devious and false, that was made to make him feel at ease.
“Mr. Potter, you are excused to the stand while Mr. Dursley gives his testimony,” Lucius drew his attention and Harry didn’t wait another second. Glad to be out of the chair, the boy happily moved over to the stands, his robes adjusting to allow him to sit comfortably on the carved wood.
Harry watched as Dudley replaced him on the chair, still trying to hold his head high. That being said, Harry could see the cracks forming ever so slightly. It was clear that being informed he was a Squib and having no idea what that could be had shaken the teen. Considering how he had grown up thinking about magic, it didn’t shock Harry in the least bit. Even if the two of them had mended their connection, that didn’t mean the words of Petunia and Vernon would suddenly just go away.
‘Ex-excuse me. Mister Lucius, Sir,” Dudley worked up the courage to speak to the slivery-haired man
“That is Lord Malfoy,” the man was trying to hold in the contempt at being spoken to by Dudley. It was clear that he wasn’t doing his best at it, “I would that you refrain from asking any questions while on the stand. Now, for the sake of the record, could you please state your name,”
“Uh, Dudley Dursley, Sir,” his voice was shaking slightly
“Very good. Now, on the day in question can you describe exactly what occurred? I will press upon you how important it is to not skip on any details,”
Fudge looked ready to make yet another comment but held himself back, merely looking down at Dudley with narrowed eyes. The boy could feel that gaze and it made him shiver ever so slightly. It was then, as he tried to focus his attention anywhere else, that Harry felt Dudley’s gaze snap directly onto him. The two cousins looked at each other in way they hadn’t before. Dudley, looking for reassurance. Harry, is more than willing to give it. With a small nod, Harry managed to convey so many emotions across this unspoken bond they shared.
‘You got this Big D’ Harry’s nod said.
As if hearing these very thoughts, Dudley gave one of his own back.
‘Thank you, cousin’ Harry gleaned from the nod.
The small exchange was more than enough for Dudley to start with his tale.
“It was early in the morning,” Dudley’s voice cracked a hair, someone amongst the wixen laughing slightly at the slip, “Sorry. It was early morning. Harry normally has breakfast ready for us when we get up. It wasn’t ready this time so my father-“
“Ahem,” as she was prone to do, Umbridge interrupted once more, drawing the ire of both Harry and Lucius, “I find it hard to believe that Potter would lift a finger to cook for anyone. Starting with fabrications to endear us will not go over-,”
“What relevance is this interruption Under-Secretary,” the title left Lucius’ lips with a venomous drawl that Snape would have been proud of, “While the details may seem trite, we are trying to ascertain the truth of what happened that morning. Your statements offer nothing but distractions that put this farce of a trial well over the time that it should have been allotted in the first place,”
Umbridge took the dressing down in stride, though she looked as if she had been made to swallow a slug all the same.
“Now, hopefully, you may continue unimpeded,” Lucius gestured towards Dudley who merely nodded.
“Right. Well like I said, Harry didn’t have breakfast ready, not that he should have to in the first place. Usually, that means he is out in his shed tinkering on things,”
“Magical things,” it was Fudge who asked this time, looking directly at Lucius for him to dare deny that his question wasn’t important to the case
“No sir. It’s all science stuff. He has this A.I. that runs experiments for him. Sorta like his f-,” Dudley caught himself mid-word, “His idol, Iron Man. Anyway, I went out to fetch him from the shed and we started walking back home,
‘We had just gotten to this bridge-tunnel when all of a sudden it got cold. Not like windy cold, but like standing outside in a snowstorm-type cold. And it hurt. I could feel it sinking into me. Like it was taking everything I ever felt happy and about replacing it with cold,”
“Then what happened,” Lucius prompted
“I got weak, like really weak. And I could hear stuff in my head. Bad things that I didn’t want to think about. Then, I saw them. They came from the front of the tunnel, these horrible-looking clock things. They had long, bony arms. The closer they got to us, the worse I felt. I tried to fight it off but it was just too hard. I looked at Harry and he was trying to fight them off. Kept trying to do something with his wand before he dropped it. I-I thought I was gonna die. Right there, on the ground. All I could think about was everything bad I’d ever done and had done to me. Then, it was gone,
“Harry was standing up, and the air was warmer. I could feel myself again. Harry had shot something out of his hand and it formed like this deer with fiery hooves. It looked like a ghost but…more solid. It ran through those cloaked things, burned them up. I don’t know what it is Harry did, but if he hadn’t we’d both be dead. That shouldn’t be a crime and Harry shouldn’t be punished for just doing what is right,”
Harry didn’t know why he started to tear up or even when. He knew that Dudley had warmed up to him over the past year or so, his cousin trying to mend a seemingly shattered bridge. To hear Dudley defend him though, that was something that Harry couldn’t believe. That any one of the Dursleys would offer up an apology for the hell they had put him through, let alone stand for his defense in a courtroom full of magical folks, seemed impossible. Yet, once again, Dudley was proving himself to be far more than his parents could ever hope to be.
“That is a wonderous tale you have told us,” Fudge’s words cut Harry out of his emotional thoughts brutally, “But it is just that I believe. A tale. The Patronus is not only a charm that is highly difficult for actual skilled Wixen to master, it isn’t even taught at Hogwarts as far as I am aware. To state that a wizard of Mr. Potter’s skill level could conjure a Patronus, one of such power and intensity that it burned away a Dementor is absurd. This is clear proof that this supposed Squib child has been coached. I move to the immediate imprisonment of Harry James Potter and the snapping of his wan-,”
“What if I showed you,” Harry spoke before he even realized it, standing tall from his spot on the side, “What if I showed you right now that what my cousin said was true? That I can cast a Patronus that powerful,”
“Ahem. You, Mr. Potter, are nothing more than a liar. We do not need to have proof that you cannot do it to know that you can’t,” Umbridge chimed in with her faux sweetness
“Then you should have no problem letting me try,” Harry responded curtly, “If you are so sure that I’m a lair. That my cousin was told what to say. That Lord Malfoy is manipulating you, then you should have no problem letting me prove otherwise,”
Lucius looked over at Harry, that calculating gleam filling those stormy grey eyes of his.
“Well, Minister,” Lucius turned to face the man, “If you are so sure in your thoughts that you are more than willing to throw this young man into Azkaban with only your assumptions, then surely you have no problem letting Mr. Potter attempt this feat. Or shall you and this court give out yet another wrongful conviction as you did with one Sirius Orion Black all those years ago,”
The blow was low and very direct. Lucius was putting in the work and it was doing a number to Fudge. Harry had no idea what the look was on the man’s face, but it looked uncomfortable, to say the least. Harry watched as the man’s jaw flexed up and down as if chewing his tongue to fight back the words he wanted to level at Lucius.
“Fine. And when the boy fails, this trial will be over. I do hope you understand that Lord Malfoy,” the Minister of Magic grounded out
“I’d expect nothing less from someone of your sordid history Minister,” Lucius replied in kind.
Dudley was ushered away from the stand as Harry was brought over by Lucius. The man did not hold a single emotion on his face as he presented Harry to face the Minister, Umbridge, and the rest of the assembled Wizengamot,
“Well, Mr. Potter, the floor is yours,” Lucius looked at Harry and just for a fleeting moment, Harry could see a bit of worry etched on that aristocratic face. It was just enough to add to the weight of how important casting this one spell was going to be.
Either he did it or he was going to Azkaban. Or Asgard, if Loki was to be believed about bringing the might of his home to bear.
Calm. Collected. You can do this.
He had almost forgotten about the locket until this very moment, as its words spiraled into his mind. The almost hiss-like voice of the locket helped soothe the tension and worry in his shoulders.
Good. You’ve done this before. I can feel it. Show them your power.
The voice of the locket sounded familiar, for just a second. However, the encouragement it was giving outweighed his curiosity over that. He reached for his wand, getting ready to perform the spell that was practically drilled into his muscle memory.
“Ahem. I do believe that Mr. Dursley said you performed this magic without a wand. That is the burden of evidence, after all,” Umbridge grinned viciously.
The worry that sparked within his chest didn’t spawn on Harry’s face. Keeping his thoughts to himself on where the pink toad could shove her wand, the young wizard returned the wand to a holster Loki had sewn into his robes. Without the familiar weight of the wand in his hand, Harry was pretty sure he was done for.
You are not done for. You have the power. Claim it. Use it.
The locket was, no doubt, talking about that odd magic that he had been using by accident. It happened when he was fighting the Dementors. Then again when he was escaping Grimmuald. Not to mention not that long ago in Malfoy’s office. That paradoxical chill that warmed every bit of him. A magic he didn’t understand but had a pretty good idea of who to thank for having it.
The world began to slow down as Harry called upon his ability to see magic once more. Instead of looking at the others around him, the boy turned his focus inward. Within moments he could see it, a brightness coming from within. A mixture of colors filled his magical vision, greens, golds, reds, and even streaks of black. All of it was Harry’s magic, a mixture of so many things that came together to form something beautiful.
The orb that was his magic seemed constrained, trapped within something that refused to let it grow or expand beyond those limits. As he reached out, Harry could feel something preventing him from touching. Denying him the right to be one with his magic. Fury sparked along him, and as it did the orb began to glow ever brighter. From its shell, cracks were forming, allowing a fraction of his magic to leak through. As it touched him, Harry knew that, while it wasn’t his full potential, it was more than enough to prove to Fudge, Umbridge, and the rest of the courts that he was no liar.
He pulled on this thread of his magic. Let it bind itself to him, pool in his chest. Only then, once it felt like a fire he couldn’t hope to contain, did he let it free.
“Expecto Patronum,” he yelled out as he pulled his awareness back to reality, his hand outstretched.
There was no silvery mist. No preamble to what happened. One moment there was nothing, the next a radiant Stag exploded from Harry’s hand. The stag stood proudly, towering over Harry by a good three feet. Its horns exuded golden light while water dripped from them in an endless stream. From under its hooves misty fog hung low, swirling just high enough to make its glowing silver fur look ghostly. The eyes of the stag were of a golden hue and looked down on Harry with reverence and understanding. As they locked eyes, a name entered into Harry’s mind,
“Eikthyrnir,” he found himself saying, the words flowing perfectly from his lips despite having never seen or heard that name before.
At this deceleration, the stag took off, running into the air, leaving a stream of magical light from its horns while the icy fog trailed behind it. All eyes in the Wizengamot were transfixed by it, unable to look away. Many of the Wixen had very little experience with Patronus, yet they could still feel that they were in the presence of something truly powerful. Even Lucius Malfoy, a man who prided himself on showing as very little emotion as possible, had a look of awe dawning on his face.
The stag eventually came to rest beside Harry, nuzzling up against the boy before vanishing away into the mist that followed behind it.
“I feel,” Harry began slowly, “That should more than suffice,”
Minister Fudge was shaking, his hands trembling against his will. Umbridge, on the other hand, was utterly seething with contempt and anger. Both of them refused to take their eyes off of Harry, and the boy matched their glares in turn. Harry refused to blink, refused to give in to the two people who had tried to have him thrown away and have his wand snapped. He was not going to balk or give them an inch.
“In…in light of this,” Fudge stuttered, trying to find his composure, “I move for the case to be dismissed and charges dropped. All in favor,”
Except for Umbridge, every hand in the chamber rose into the air. Even Dudley and Lucius, both of whom seemed to be doing it out of spite than any actual need to be counted among the votes. Knowing he didn’t have to count the hands, Fudge opted to watch Harry, the beady eyes of the Minister quivering ever so slightly. Harry watched and couldn’t tell if it was in fear or something else entirely. All he knew was, that despite this trial finally coming to an end, it was not going to be the last time he had to deal with Fudge.
“Case dismissed,” The Minister declared, rising from his chair to escape the door behind him.
Umbridge, however, stayed. The woman was dripping with malice, thick enough that Harry could have sworn he saw it swimming off of her body in waves. Yet, despite this hate, she had a smile across her face all the same. A smile that was not one of comfort, but one that promised pain. Pain that she would delight in.
As she finally left, Harry hoped that at the very least he wouldn’t have to deal with her again. Though, knowing his luck, that was going to be far from possible.
“Mr. Potter,” Lucius drew Harry’s attention, the man once again having slipped back on his mask, “It would seem I owe you an apology for doubting the depths of your abilities. That was… quite the display you put on,” the words lacked any hint of emotion, but even Harry could read the small hints of admiration that came from the man.
“I could say the same to you as well. Thank you for your help, even if it may not be your choice,” Harry extended his hand, “Should we ever come to disagreements in the future, I trust you’ll keep today in mind,”
Harry wasn’t sure if his words were a threat or not. If anything, they were just that, words. Lucius, though, eyed the outstretched hand warily. At least for a moment before he became aware of just who he was around. The shake was stiff and unnatural, and Lucius seemed hellbent on keeping the contact as light as possible.
“I will be sure to send you my bill, Potter,” was his only response before he swiftly stepped away and vanished into the throng of people leaving the courtroom stands.
There was no doubt in Harry’s mind that he was going right to Voldemort to tell him of what just took place. Chances were high that the Dark Lord was going to make himself known once more in Harry’s dreams with far too many questions. That was a future Harry’s problem. Currently, Harry’s problem was trying to get out of this courtroom without getting mobbed.
The moment people left the stands many of them were making a bee-line right for him. He could hear them wanting to ask questions, a few of them begging to know how he cast such a Patronus. Others wanted to make alliances after seeing just what he was capable of. As they got closer Harry could feel the hair on his neck standing, his breathing becoming ever so slightly labored.
“Hey, Harry,” the voice of Dudley rang out over the other voice and Harry turned to spot his cousin not too far away, making for the exit to the chambers.
As politely as he could, Harry gave the folks a small wave before practically jogging over to his cousin and out of the chamber. The moment he left the almost claustrophobic feeling of the courtroom, Harry let out a palpable sigh of relief. The sigh soon turned into an actual laugh as he sat down on the ground and leaned up against the wall.
“It’s over,” he got out between his peals of laughter, “It’s finally over,”
He had never truly noticed just how much of this trial had been hanging on him. Between everything that transpired over the first month of his summer; from Dumbledore and his plans, the Dementors, Sirius getting possessed and so much more, Harry truly thought the trial was the least of his problems. Now though, with it firmly behind him, the boy felt like he could breathe. Truly breath for the first time in ages. Those problems were still there in his mind, but for now, he had overcome something.
“You okay Harry,” Dudley asked, not sure of what to do exactly he opted to kneel to talk with his cousin, “Pretty sure you are looking kind of crazed right now,”
“Sorry Dudley,” Harry's voice was slightly airy, almost carefree in a way, “Just…just very relieved right now. Thanks for coming in too. You were brilliant,”
“I wouldn’t say that, I just told those stuffy types the truth. Speaking of, could you tell me just what a Squib is? I’m not sick with some sort of magical disease or nothing,”
It took Harry a second to process what Dudley said, still in the afterglow of winning his trial. Once it did, Harry looked at his cousin with a small smile on his lips.
“It means your magical Dudley, at least partially. Squibs are sort of like Wixen, they just don’t have enough magic to cast spells. It does mean you can see what we see. Things that only Wixen can see. Though I don’t know how. Most Squibs have to have at least one magical parent, though like Lucius said, there isn’t a lot documented on them. How Lucius knew, I don’t know. I’ll send him an owl and try to find out for you,”
“So…do you think I should tell Mum”
“No,” Harry’s answer was immediate, “Never tell your Mum or Dad. They…just don’t tell them,” Harry cautioned before pulling himself off of the floor “You don’t deserve what they might say and do to you,”
The two cousins looked at one another before pulling in for a hug. Harry had never hugged Dudley before, the most physical affection he ever gave him were the occasional fist bumps when Dudley would pop by his lab while he worked on things. This though, was something he didn’t know he needed until he had it.
“Neither did you Harry,”
The cousins broke apart, Dudley looking as if he was trying to fight off tears while Harry dried his to the best of his ability.
“I suppose we should go find Loki and Tony. They should be somewhere around here,” Harry muttered, trying to save face as best as he could.
The pair walked alongside each other through the long halls of the lobby, seeing several doors that led to who knew what. Harry truthfully had no idea just where he was going, but he didn’t care. The boy was still riding high from everything. Beyond just the outcome of the trial, his mind was also on his Patronus. It had looked so different from what he had seen before. Not just that, but the name that entered his mind when he summoned it; Eikthyrnir. It had come from his lips as if he was saying his name. The creature had felt far more substantial than it ever had before. Not just that, he felt far more connected to the stag as well. There was a moment he swore he could feel the wind rushing along its body as if it were Harry’s own. He knew that, if there was anyone who would have the answers, it would have to be Loki.
As if summoned by his thoughts alone, Harry saw the slowly becoming familiar face of Loki. The man was standing with his hands on his hips and looking rather cross. The focus of his ire was Tony, who was looking almost anywhere else but the face of Loki. As they got closer, Harry could hear bits of their conversation,
“-and that wouldn’t do anyone any good. Especially Harry,” Loki admonished
“I wasn’t going to hurt them, just scare them a little,”
“You threatened to vaporize the man's reproductive organs,” Loki replied simply
Tony couldn't help but chuckle at that,
“Like you don’t have a laundry list of ways you want to make those monsters suffer for what they did to our kid,”
“You are absolutely right Anthony, I do. What I have planned for them will make even Surtur squeamish. However, attempting to attack them just before we have to argue for custody of Harry is foolish and heavily imbecilic,”
Tony was about to retort when he noticed Harry and Dudley looking at them both, Harry’s arm crossed as he eyed both of the adults
“Sorry sweetie, mommy, and daddy were just having a discussion,” the man offered by way of explanation
“Yeah, pretty sure half of the Ministry can hear your discussion,” Harry snapped, though it lacked the venom and punch he wanted it to have, “Can you two not argue over getting revenge on the Dursleys for me? For one, Dudley is right here and those are still his parents,”
Dudley couldn’t help but give a little wave before putting his hand down at the unenthused look from Loki,
“And second, just don’t. They aren’t worth it,”
“Harry, those creatures kept you in a closet for most of your life. They abuse-“ Loki was cut off by his son before he could finish
“No. I know what happened. I lived it and I don’t need either one of you giving me a play-by-play of what I lived through to justify your reasons to get revenge. They aren’t worth it. I’m not worth it,”
“Harr-,” Tony tried to say
“Just stop. Please,” Harry looked at the ground, “Thank you for thinking that I’m worth it, but I’m not. I don’t need more people trying to protect or defend me. It never ends well. I needed you two-,” the words became caught in his throat, unable to say what he wanted.
Harry didn’t know when he started running, all he knew was that the sounds of Loki, Dudley, and Tony calling out to him were far behind as he sped his way through the halls. Somehow, his feet brought him to a bathroom and he quickly walked in, locking the door shut behind him.
Harry didn’t know what or even how he was feeling. He supposed anger was the first thing that came to mind. Anger that Loki and Tony were just going to throw their lives away. And for what? Revenge on the Dursleys. It was foolish. Harry knew that the way he lived with his Aunt and Uncle wasn’t right. He knew that what he endured wasn’t fair. That didn’t mean he wanted them to hurt for it. Deep down, Harry knew that he wasn’t worth the effort. What was done was done and trying to get revenge wasn’t going to fix anything.
Harry found himself looking at his reflection, his green eyes stormy with emotions.
“I needed you two then. I don’t need you both now,” Harry let the words finally free and with them, a wave of anguish came with it.
What are you doing? Did they hurt you with a spell?
The whisper of the locket was a welcome voice in his ear, one to drown out his thoughts. He pulled it out and held it softly in his hands.
“No. They didn’t hurt me. I’m fine,” Harry sniffed as he found himself clearing his eyes for the second time that day.
Then why are you crying?
“You don’t have to be hurt by a spell to want to cry you know. Then again, can you even cry,”
No. I am made of metal. And have no physical body.
The clear sarcasm made Harry laugh
“Hey, before I was eleven I didn’t think pictures could move. Figured it was nice to ask,”
I haven’t cried since I was younger than you are now.
“You used to have a body,”
Perhaps. It all feels like a dream. Though, the longer I’m around you, the more real it all feels.
At that moment, Harry thought back to his second year. The year he ended up with a diary and ended up talking with a memory of Tom Riddle. A diary that still sat in the Chamber of Secrets, pinned to the floor with a single Basilisk tooth. Harry could still hear the scream of Riddle as he was forced back into the pages of his diary, freeing his hold on Ginny.
“You…. you wouldn’t-,” the question hung in the air, unspoken
I would never hurt you, Harry. You are too precious to me.
The silence felt heavy as Harry stared at the locket. Carefully, he slid it back under his robes. He knew what he was thinking. The thought was right there on the edge of his mind. Before he could even give credence to it, a knock came at the bathroom door, banishing the thought away for later.
“Harry, are you in there? It’s Arthur Weasley,” the good-natured voice of Ron’s father came through, pulling a smile across Harry’s face.
“Coming Mr. Weasley,” Harry responded, taking another moment to school his features and clear off the evidence of his tears
Opening the door, Harry was greeted by the chipper face of Mr. Weasley, a face Harry hadn’t seen since the World Cup last year. It was comforting to see the almost fatherly lines on the man's face where his smile was.
“Harry, so good to see you again. I heard that you got cleared on all charges. And summoned a, to quote Mr. Doge, ‘stupendous Patronus the likes that have never been seen’,”
“Yeah, I guess I did. The Minister was being a right-,” Harry fought back the urge to swear in front of Mr. Weasley, “Well he insisted that I wasn’t capable of it so I just had to show him,”
“Well, you’ll be happy to know that Molly has insisted on throwing you a dinner to celebrate. You and your…well, I suppose parents, are to be the guest of honor,”
“Parents,” Harry said, but not as a question, “Just odd to hear that,”
“What do you mean,” Arthur asked, gesturing for Harry to follow him out of the bathroom and back down the hallway
“Well, and don’t tell Ron I said this, I always thought you and Mrs. Weasley were what parents are supposed to be. What a family is supposed to be. Not like I had many role models of what parents are supposed to be like. Still, I imagined that they were like you. My Mum and dad that is,”
“Harry. While I’m so happy you hold us in such esteem, not every family is going to look the same. There is no perfect family,” Arthur pulled Harry to the side and sat on the bench. After a moment Harry joined him as well,
“Molly and I, we do our best with our kids. Bill and Charlie, are off doing dangerous things that constantly make Molly worry. Percy is…well he is finding his way. Same thing with the twins, even if I wish they weren’t so destructive. Ronald is finding his own, becoming who he will be. And Ginny, I love her to bits, even though I don’t always understand her,
“Our family is not perfect, because we aren’t perfect. We make mistakes when raising our kids, there is no way around that. But that doesn’t make our family any less beautiful. You can’t define what a family should be because there is no perfect template for what a family is supposed to be. Sure, there are things a family should be for each other; loving, caring, patient, and kind. But those are just everyday traits. Things everyone should aspire to have. A family is something more…unique I guess,”
Harry looked down at his shoes, his mind contemplating Mr. Weasley’s words
“So, with Tony and Loki-,” Harry asked,
“You three are going to have to figure out what a family is to you. That means, Harry, you got to let them try. Even when they make mistakes, which they will let them try. You deserve to have parents that love you. And everything I’ve seen from those two shows just how much love they have for you,”
Harry looked down the hall where Loki and Tony were still sitting, trying their best to look as if they weren’t watching Harry and Arthur. The boy couldn’t help but laugh at Tony’s sad attempt of finding the wall interesting, or Loki looking up at the ceiling.
“I’m just…afraid. Afraid that I’ll do something wrong or that they will do something dangerous because of me and-,”
“Harry,” the boy looked over at Arthur once more, “Being afraid is being okay. You just can’t let it hold you back from a shot at happiness,”
Harry looked back at Tony and Loki, both of the men giving up on trying to pretend like they weren’t watching their son. Tony, smirking up a storm. Loki, eyes filled with tender glances. They were an odd mix, that was to be sure. A mixture of so many complications that Harry would never fully get to know. They were a mess, but a mess that cared for him.
And maybe, Harry could find a place amongst that mess.
"I'll try," Harry finally said, as he walked towards Loki and Tony.