Lovely Lie

Harry isn’t surprised when an apologetic Kingsley calls him to the Ministry and informs him that, based on some law only Hermione knew about, barely at that, he is to be tried for the number of serious things Voleemort’s government accused him of.

It doesn’t surprise him, either, that the choices left to him by this law – “Mordred’s Law”, they say, and what a name it is! – are exile to the non-magical world with his magic and memory bound, life imprisonment at Azkaban with all the dementors returned there, or death via the Veil or execution.

Well, given all the options, and having found out recently from the Blacks library that the Veil most likely leads to another life instead of death or the afterlife, he chooses the Veil, of course. He isn’t about to let go of memories of his friends or let himself be anywhere close to the dementors for any length of time!

Given the hypothesis that he will have a second chance of life through the Veil, he also requests that he be equipped with a starter pack of sorts. And now he is surprised that it is granted. It’s a slightly expanded pack, as he and Hermione have bargained for, filled only with his mokeskin pouch plus everything that he has stored inside of it this last year, a week’s worth of clothes, a week’s worth of meals, a shrunken trunk with tradable items inside, a magical tent with non-magical look, a shrunken box of general-use potions, and select magical and non-magical books, but still!

Hermione helps him shop for or gather the items as necessary, as he is incarcerated in a Ministry holding cell until the sentence is carried out, and she only has three days to complete everything, but he has faith in her organisation skills. He spends the meantime making his will and registering it with Gringotts through a representative the goblins have deigned to send him.

Thanks be to Andromeda Tonks nee Black, who dragged his protesting self to Gringotts to deal with the heist he and Hermione performed on Bellatrix Lestrange’s vault. Because now the Gringotts representative is at least somewhat civil towards him… and tries little to cheat him, as the goblin is apparently scared of a wrathful Andy Tonks, judging by how he sometimes asks if “Lady Black” has already approved of this or that.

Well, in any case, in the end the goblin vows that “Lord Potter-Black’s” will is going to be activated with no alteration whatsoever the moment the latter enters the Veil, and that’s all that matters.

Harry is also thankful that the supplies Hermione has gathered for him pass muster when the day comes. Now he also gets to wear a set of new, durable, protective clothes for the Veiling, namely a set of dragonhide outers – complete with gloves, boots and wand holster under the cloak’s sleeve – and sturdy hitwizard dress for the insides in a non-magical cut and non-uniform colour.

He is even more thankful that his loved ones are there, standing uneasily along with Kingsley, Director Croaker of the Department of Mysteries, and Director Robards of the DMLE, although somehow they are limited to just Hermione, Teddy and Ron. It’s awkward, and the air is tense and dense and prickly. But at least he gets to see his best friends for the last time, and hug his first and last godson while he’s at it.

He shoulders the recently checked pack with the sleepy little baby still cradled in his arms, and he even walks up to the dais where the Veil stands in its tattered, fluttering glory with the little, trusting form still cuddled warmly up to him. And then he turns his back on the Veil, ignoring all its formless whispers that are so loud from so close, also the brushes of something that doesn’t feel like cloth at all through the layers of clothes on his back, just so that he can be with Teddy just some more time, also so that he can gaze at all the individuals farewelling him from feet away for the last time.

Still, however sadly and reluctantly, he extends Teddy towards Hermione when she walks up to him and extends her own hands.

He would never expect that she would put her hands on his shoulders and push him back into the Veil with Teddy still in his arms, however.

He instinctively cuddles Teddy close to him again and curls his body round the now-screaming baby, even as oppressive darkness and ringing silence seem to blanket them from all sides, and it feels like they’re both moving and stationary.

The odd, uncomfortable state of being seems to last both a moment and an age, before they are spat out into intense light that are no less oppressive and ringing, and then onto something hard that impacts his left side, the momentum of which nearly launches Teddy clear off of him.

He groans in pain, Teddy squeals in misery, and it takes him precious moments to realise that: A, both are still breathing, thus still alive; B, they’re lying on what feels and smells like a hard floor that’s thickly encrusted with… things – odd-smelling, stale-smelling things – he’d rather not ever wonder about; C, he feels severely drained, even though he hasn’t used his magic for anything wherever here is; D, he can’t see anything, having been blinded by the light, though his sight is slowly – just, so very slowly – returning; and E, footsteps – plural! – are stomping towards them, and he can’t risk the slim probability that the owners of those footsteps might be harmless, given this environment.

And, given the last point, he forces himself to rise to his feet and carefully transfers a flailing Teddy to just one arm… which is the arm he fell on just now, unfortunately. But he needs the good arm to defend the two of them, unfortunately, and he does that by flicking his hand, which causes his trusty old wand to fall onto his waiting palm from the arm holster Kingsley gifted him with.

Screw the Statute of Secrecy, even if the potential assailants might be Muggles. He refuses to survive the Veil just to die in the hands of some gang!

His sight isn’t back yet, though. So when the footsteps stop, and there’s a splash of surprised silence that he can feel from their end, followed with streaks of something that smells like ozone, sounds like no gun he ever heard, glows through his returning sight in a colour reminiscent of Stupefy or Crucio, and blazes with the intent to harm, he has no choice but to use only his hearing and sheer “survival sense” to duck and dodge the barrage.

Also the longest existing and the strongest Protego Maxima to date in his history.

Also the occasional Diffindo… that’s maybe reckless when he can’t see what’s in front of him in this space that feels like a corridor, albeit on the large side, and thus the potential to accidentally hit a support structure is there. But still! He can’t just defend. Not when he’s already felt so drained. Not when keeping the Protego Maxima up drains him more. And he still needs to find a good place to rest for at least a little while for himself and Teddy, too.

When he detects no more assailant trying to off him, he sways heavily in place but stubbornly keeps on his feet. This is no worse than spending the day being the prey hunted by Dudley and the latter’s minions during their primary-school years, he tells himself. And, with that bit of “encouragement” in mind, he forces himself to begin trudging blindly towards the opposite direction from the probable gang ruling this chunk of miserable space.

The probably dead gang, actually, but he can’t care less about it right now. Exhaustion is weighing heavier and heavier down on him, and he just wants to sleep, and clean himself, and heal himself and Teddy, in that particular order. It doesn’t help his admittedly muddled and frazzled state of mind that Teddy won’t stop crying.

Well, maybe the crying is what draws a second gang to his location, for it happens, and he has no choice but to defend himself and Teddy again.

Also to apologetically Silencio the baby afterwards, because he is practically dead on his feet, now, and they can’t afford the potential that another gang – or more! – would come investigate the awful, awful noise Teddy makes.

He only lifts the spell after he’s found a decently sized nook along the otherwise straight corridor, shrugged off his pack, fished out the tent, pitched it in the alcove, warded its surroundings to the best of his knowledge using remnant reserve of his magic, and stumbled into it, dragging his pack with him.

And then he falls onto the blissfully clean hardwood floor and passes out.

But of course, given that, he wakes up an indeterminate time later stinking up the place, feeling like a giant, sticky, smelly, throbbing, heavy bruise, and as miserable as one of Missus Fig’s kittens that’s just been mostly drowned in oily mud.

And Teddy is still lying in his arms, asleep with tear tracks marring those tiny, rounded cheeks framed by lank slush-coloured hair.

`What a good godfather I am,` he grumbles to himself, and heaves himself up into a seated position, which is hard to do given how painful everything is and how laden his muscles feel. He can’t wallow in either matter, though, for events from earlier are rushing back into his mind and imply that this bit of peace, of breathing space, of respite is just that, temporary, so he must make use of it to the best of his ability before it’s gone again.

Well, first of all: a thorough shower and deep clothes-cleaning both for himself and his tiny charge. Because both of them stink, and he can’t think when he is like that. So he looks round for the bathroom, and in the meantime notices that, small as the tent looks at first sight, the slightly claustrophobic feel to it actually comes from how full it is with all sorts of boxes, crates, bags, sacks and chests.

In fact, the bit of flooring he and Teddy have been lying on, positioned right inside the tent from the doorway, is actually the only free space he can see from his current vantage point.

`How did she get all these things past the detection spells?` he wonders, even as he staggers to his feet and cranes his neck to try to see all round and atop the towering piles. `Eh, but she did get her beaded bag all through last year, didn’t she? That sneaky witch.`

And that sneaky witch also sent Teddy along with him, he mustn’t forget that. `Damn you, Mee. Why did you do that for?`

He brings Teddy along with him when he finds an opening – big enough to fit him through, if he walks sidewise and ducks his head to his chin – that leads in a roundabout and bumpy way to the other side of the thick wall of containers. Here, he finds that the tent apparently has three bedrooms – or at least three closed doors – in addition to one leading to a bathroom – heavenly bathroom! – and another leading to a big, well-stocked-looking walk-in pantry, with the open kitchen area tucked beside it.

He shakes his head. `Overachieving much, Mee?`

But he comes into the bathroom, nonetheless, and finds that it actually doubles up with the laundry, just partitioned by a long, double-sided dresser that goes up to his chin, topped with a double row of pots containing various kitchen herbs. In fact, he has to go past the laundry before he can reach the bathroom proper, and he does just that, because he hates being so smelly and filthy, which just reminds him of long days and weeks and months and years spent with the Dursleys before he knew about the magical community.

Looking round the area, he sees that the generous space holds a well-furnished and generously sized shower stall, a large, deep stone bath-tub that is rather a mini swimming pool in his opinion, a toilet seat, a cabinet topped with a sink and a counter and a mirror hanging above it all, and racks and pegs for clothes and towels.

And also a changing table with its own cabinet underneath, and a folded letter lying on it, addressed to him.

`Damn it, Mee!`

He really wants to be angry with her for this premeditated, callous manhandling of both himself and Teddy, and he doubts that her letter will make it better.

But maybe there will be an explanation about this there, at least?

`Damn. I have to read that letter, don’t I?`

Well, it’s got to be after he’s finished with his self-promised thorough shower, still. So he swipes the letter off of the changing table and moves it to the counter beside the sink, and puts the still-sleeping Teddy on it instead. And then he shucks off all his clothes on the floor just outside of the shower stall, hangs his holstered wand from one of the pegs placed high up beside the removable shower head, checks that Hermione really has stocked up the shelf under the pegs with the hygiene products he usually uses, closes the door half-way, and fiddles with the water settings.

The noise he makes when the heated water showers down on him is most likely indecent, but who cares? Teddy is sleeping and no doubt doesn’t care, and they’re all alone in this tent, anyway.

Well, they’re all alone for now, and there’s no guarantee that no more gangsters will try to ambush them soon, while he is resting or even now while he is taking a shower.

That prospect dampens his enjoyment of the experience right away, pun not intended, and makes him take the shortest time possible to clean himself up and redon his clothes.

And only when he’s towelling himself does he realise that his spectacles aren’t there on his face but he can still see.

`So the lack of sight after the light blinded me cured my eyes?` he muses baffledly as he Scourgifies his clothes – and boots, for good measure – then redons them. `Where’s the specs, anyway? Broken? Still where I landed? Got to find them. Dunno if this’ll be permanent or not, do I? Better safe than sorry.`

`Better safe than sorry. Just in case. Always there with a second plan or route.` He shakes his head to those variants of what Hermione likes to say, as he unsurely, gingerly does his best to peel off Teddy’s clothes without waking the poor baby. `Huh. Did Mee have that driving her when she’s preparing… all these? How did she do it in just three days, anyway? Isn’t there no more Timeturners left in the Ministry? But how did she do it without a Timeturner? – Ewwww!!! No wonder Teddy cried! How does such a small baby make such a mess on his nappy?!`

He would not be embarrassed to admit that he uses a Bubblehead when the messy nappy is exposed, and a Tergeo to clean it and send the mess to the conveniently close rubbish bin instead of – `Ewwwww!` – touching it.

Still, he has to clean Teddy by hand, including the baby’s bottom, after locating the washcloth and soap and small basin in the cabinet under the changing table, and he screws his face up all the while, his shoulders hunched. `All that I do for you, Teddy-bear.`

He Scourgifies the changing table and the tyles in the shower stall and just outside of it, for good measure, before he leaves the bathroom with a still-sleeping Teddy and the letter Hermione has left for him. Now off to the closed door nearest the bathroom he goes, which turns out to be a bedroom indeed, well-furnished with a bed, a desk, a swivel chair, a wardrobe, a cosy rug, and a chest of drawers, with hardwood flooring and wallpaper panelling, all in soothing pastel colours that she knows he “secretly” likes the most.

And there’s another letter addressed to him in it, lying so innocently and openly on the writing desk set beside the double bed.

Also, there’s apparently a well-furnished crib set on the other side of the desk, mostly hidden between it and the wardrobe, when he steps closer to the former.

`Damn you, Mee,` he sighs, and transfers Teddy into the crib. `Why did you never tell me about this? Did you even tell Andy that you were going to steal her only grandchild – her only living family member left – away?`

Well, the answers may be contained in the two letters. So, with a fortifying breath, he seats himself at the desk and opens the one he found in the bathroom, dimly noting that some kind of spell dissipates when his bare fingers land on the parchment.

And the hastily penned words in it reads:
Hi, Harry,
So sorry I never told you about my plan to send Teddy along with you. It’s not a hasty decision at all, I swear, though it’s admittedly hatched only within the 3 days we’re given.
You know Andy hasn’t fared well after Dora’s death, right? Well, she’s been faring worse and worse since she found out that you got snagged in Mordred’s Law and decided to go through the Veil. For how short she’s known you, she really loves you, Harry. You are part of her family.
This creates a problem because Teddy has no one else aside from her and you and me and there’s also the fact that he is Mooney’s son to consider very carefully. You know Umbridge’s laws about magical creatures and Muggleborn are still in effect, right? We are worried that Teddy will be snagged by the Ministry like they snagged you.
Well, I don’t have much time. Still need to prepare other things. Sorry I can’t explain this further. But, suffice to say, Andy is a husk of herself now, and she’s been admitted to the long-term-care ward of St. Mungo’s, but she’s given her permission for me to give Teddy to you when she was still fine enough. I just couldn’t let anyone suspect that I was going to do that, so that meant you couldn’t know either.
I’ve included supplies for Teddy the best that I can within the timeframe I was given. There’s also a memory crystal about general childcare for humans (a compilation of memories, really) in the box in the drawer under the desk beside your bed, if you haven’t found it. Just press it to your temple with your bare hand and the memories will transfer to you. It’s not enough. I know rearing every child is different one to another, and that doesn’t even count the environment and availability of things into the equation. But I hope it helps, still.
Best of luck to you and Teddy, Harry. Live well and don’t mourn us too long. I’ll see you when I see you, even if it’s after death.
Love,
Hermione

He has to constantly regulate his breathing for a long, long, long while after that. Past the lump in his throat, past the squeezing, burning, stabbing sensation in his chest, past the heavy weight of hot water behind his eyes. He is thankful that Teddy is still asleep, that nothing has disturbed him from outside of the tent, that there’s nobody else in here with the two of them, because then he is not pushed to internalise this as soon as possible, which is impossible.

Stern, brave, dependable Andromeda Tonks nee Black. Considered him as family. Got signed into the long-term-care ward. Just like Neville’s parents. And little Teddy got booted out along with him because of damned Umbridge.

The very concept of it is so hard to swallow.

But, at the same time, terrifyingly easy.

The Wizarding World hadn’t treated him well since the start, so why would this time be any better? Even when he didn’t know it at that time, even when the individuals impacted aren’t just him, it’s just the same.

There’s nothing easy about the rage he feels, though. He is simply, indellibly, awfully very, very angry.

And he has no way to let it all out.