Kingsley Shaklebolt, The Minister for Magic
So consumed by his thoughts, Harry scarcely noticed he was left alone in Robard’s office. Pacing furiously, willing his brain to catch up with everything that had just happened, Harry tried desperately to figure out how to put things right.
Maybe he could wait here for Robards to return so he could curse him out, try to force him to free Draco, to see that this is entirely nonsensical. Or perhaps he could…
Harry didn’t know what he could do. His whole body was hot and tense; tense with white hot rage vibrating through his body without a place to escape. He stared at Robards’ empty desk. Part of him wished he’d physically fought him.
Draco is gone.
The thought made Harry’s head pound, his veins surge with pent up energy that had to go somewhere fast before he exploded.
Crack.
There was now a spidering fracture in the plaster of the wall where Harry’s fist had landed. It hadn't even been a conscious decision to do it, but it was better than hitting the first person he came across if he left the office in that state. Harry didn't like the feeling, but he had to admit he was calmer now. More grounded, at least. He flared his nostrils, ignoring the pain in his knuckles. Slowly and with purpose, he inhaled sharply through his nose. He needed to get Draco out. Now was no time to be throwing a temper tantrum…
He opened the door from Robards office to reveal the entire auror department staff, which all of whom? quickly pretended to have not heard the sharp crack from Harry’s fist hitting the office wall. The door had hit the wall with a resounding snap from the force of his swing. John approached him first, looking concerned.
“Harry, maybe it’s best you calm down first-”
“Fuck off, Dawlish,” he spat, continuing past the Auror department with only one destination in mind: The ministry holding cells. Then a hand on his shoulder paused him- Ron, looking tired and wary.
“Mate… don’t do anything stupid.”
Harry huffed with barely restrained indignation. He knew Ron meant well, but bloody, bludgering fuck!
“It’s too late for that.” Harry grabbed at the badge in the front breast-pocket of his auror robes and threw it across the room, not caring that the entire department was watching the scene in stunned silence.
“I’m fucking done.”
Harry stormed out of the department then, straight to the ministry elevators, his mind whirring up how many variations of absolutely fucked this whole situation was. He wondered what Draco was thinking, what was happening with him, how he was feeling, if he was even okay-
A hand caught the elevator doors just as they were about to close. Harry’s brain barely caught up with his eyes as he registered Ron’s face popping in while the elevator opened back up for him. He walked in silently, waiting until the elevator closed, beginning to pull them out and down.
“So, what’re the chances that this plan doesn’t get me fired?”
Harry fully looked at him, now, registering what Ron said. For a brief moment, he wanted to hug him. He didn’t.
“Not likely,” he responded instead. The elevator flew them about, taking them to the holding cells in the basement. After a moment, Ron spoke.
“You two are shagging, aren’t you…”
Harry had the decency to burn bright red at that. He bit his lip.
“Not… not quite. But you’re on the right track.”
Harry could feel Ron’s smirk even without looking at him. “Hermione owes me ten galleons, then.”
After a beat, Harry asked.
“How did you know?”
“You’re my best mate, aren’t you? Also, I recognized your trousers.”
Harry blushed more at that. “I honestly don’t know how he got them. We really haven’t done anything like that.”
“But you fancy each other,” Ron said, as though looking for confirmation.
“I… yeah.”
And before they could continue to speak, the elevator door opened to reveal the lowest level of the DMLE: interrogation and holdings. Robards and Berrycloth were speaking off to the side of one corridor. Harry had half a mind to blast them down the corridor with raw magic. He marched up to them.
“Where is Draco?”
“Potter,” began Robards, and Harry swore he looked very punch-able at the moment, “You seem to be getting too close to this case. I need you to back up. You must understand that we need to do what we need to do. Malfoy is in the evidence-”
“Malfoy also literally is evidence, in case you’ve forgotten. We found his body mutilated by the murderer, and now you are saying that he is the murderer?!”
“He could have done that to himself to throw us off,” Robards replied simply.
“And his memories?” Harry tried.
“Could have been modified.” Harry was shaking. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could restrain himself. He thought of Draco, and of how he needed to keep his wits about him in order to free him. He took several breaths.
“Robards, Mordecai…. Do you seriously believe that Malfoy is the killer?” Ron seemed to be acting as Harry’s sensibility for him.
“We know that it’s not likely,” began Mordecai with a sigh. “But we have to cover all of our bases. We’ve gone too long without any leads.”
Ron was silent for a moment, then. “Do you think Rookwood might know anything? I know we can’t really get to him at the moment, but…”
Of course it’s a possibility, but we don’t have anything new on him that will get the church to release him… listen. I don’t like this, either. We just have to do what we need to, and put our heads together to continue solving this case-”
“-So you’re using Draco as a scapegoat…” Harry could help but remark. “You’re using him to show the public that you’re making progress.”
The room was silent. Harry took a charged step forward- Ron’s hand on his shoulder caught him. “Mate, let’s put our wand away. Come with me.” Harry nearly snapped at Ron. Didn’t you come down here to help me?! But when he turned to face Ron, there was something in his expression that told Harry he ought to shut up and go with him. He clenched his jaw, turning back to Mordecai and Robards. At that moment, he debated telling them that their actions had lost them an auror. Maybe then they’d feel worse about it. Ron’s hand on his shoulder squeezed. Harry turned and left with his friend.
As soon as they were back in the elevator, Ron spoke again.
“You shouldn’t waste your time with them. We can take this higher up. I reckon ‘Mione won’t have any problems telling us when we might speak to the Minister of Magic.”
Harry lit up. “Ron, you’re brilliant!”
It took them a few moments to get to the top floor of the ministry where Hermione works as part of a team of advisors for Kingsley Shaklebolt, the Minister for Magic.
Rather Belatedly, Harry realised that he didn’t quite know where to go, once he arrived on this floor. He scanned the area, trying to gain his bearings before Ron gestured for him to follow him. They walked down a long corridor, past multiple offices and meeting rooms, before they reached Hermione’s office. Ron knocked, waiting for Hermione’s muffled “Come in” from the other side. He opened the door.
Hermione was at a desk, writing something with fervour, half-hidden behind piles of parchments, which all seemed colour-coded and piled in a specific order. Harry got hit with a pang of nostalgia for their school days. It seemed even now, years later, Hermione was still just as dedicated to her work as always.
“Hello, love,” she mumbled passively, then she glanced up, catching sight of Harry. She did a double take, then sat straighter. “Oh, Harry. Hello…” her brows furrowed as she looked between the two of them. “What’s happened?”
Ron opened his mouth to speak, but Harry beat him to it, feeling all too wired up. “They’ve taken him. They’ve made him a suspect now and they’re absolutely mad, and we need to get him out-”
Ron interrupted Harry, shoving him down into a chair that Harry hadn’t realised was there. He found it rather comfortable. He wondered if Herione charmed it.
“What Harry is trying to say is that the Auror department’s gone mad, and they now suspect that Draco Malfoy is the murderer we’ve been after, because we found his name in some documents… And Harry here feels a pressing need to get him out. I told him you might be able to get us in touch with Shaklebolt.”
Hermione remained still for a moment, though, to Harry, it felt like an eternity. Then she looked down at her papers. “Accusing one of your victims and your only witness… dolts…”
Ron continued. “Also, Harry quit his job out of rage. And, you owe me ten galleons.” Hermione’s eyes widened, then she looked at Harry.
“Harry James, that is entirely unethical-”
“-Not the right time, ‘Mione,” Ron interrupted.
“Right,” Hermione responded. Then, “He’s in a meeting right now…But he should be out in an hour-”
“An hour?!” Harry nearly burst out of his seat, feeling the grip of its calming magic reaching out for him. So, it is charmed…
“Maybe less,” she reasoned. “It was an emergency meeting involving an incident with a young child blasting accidental magic and killing his parents with it… the muggle police got involved, and we’re trying to get our hands on him so that he can get proper help and training with his magic… Anyway, you might as well stay here and wait for him… have a cup of tea.”
She gestured to the side, where Harry saw a magical setup for brewing and serving tea, and several looseleaf options. His breath was exasperated.
“We can’t just leave him there while we sit around…”
“It’s only Ministry holding. They won’t do anything to him.” Hermione finished writing on her parchment, then folded it into an interdepartmental memo and asked Ron to open the door for her so she could send it flying to “Mercedes’ office”. Ron sat down in a seat next to Harry. Hermione spoke again, this time fully devoting her attention to them.
“So, walk me through what happened. Calmly.”
And they did. Well, mostly Ron did. Nearly every time that Harry tried to speak on it, he’d get angry, and he’d feel the calming charms on the chairs pulling at him inwardly, and he didn’t like that feeling of resistance. Hermione, for all the work she seemed to have pending, still fully listened to them, occasionally saying her thoughts on the matter. Then, she turned to Harry.
“And why, exactly, are you so concerned for Malfoy? You know that nothing necessarily bad happens in Ministry holding…”
Harry gave pause, processing the question. Many thoughts were coming to him, none of which he could entirely articulate. Eventually, he settled on:
“He doesn’t deserve it… This isn’t the war anymore. He’s just… all he wants to do is be better, and this whole case keeps dragging him back down into his past, and… ‘Mione, you should just see him. Just spend an hour or two with him and you’ll see. He’s entirely torn up by all of this. He’s constantly checking the doors, and the windows, and he does this weird thing with his wand that honestly seems like he’s just… studying it for reassurance? And he’ll try to reinforce and check my protective wards and set some of his own- sometimes until he’s out of it entirely from exhaustion. All of this, it doesn’t help… You know he thinks that the murder attempt was God’s attempt at punishing him?”
And Harry hadn’t necessarily meant to air out all of Draco’s dirty laundry like that. It had all just come out, and Harry felt himself somehow lighter, thanks to it. He watched Hermione closely. He could see the wheels in her head turning.
“Harry… Does Malfoy have OCD?”
It was Harry’s turn to look confused. He turned to Ron, who looked equally clueless. “What’s that?”
“Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder. It’s… hard to explain. I have some books at home that would be better at explaining things than me. But… Harry, that sounds really serious. And you never reported this to Robards?”
“I didn’t think it mattered,” Harry tried.
“Of course it matters, Harry. He’s not a functional adult. How long has he had this? Since school? I hadn’t ever noticed anything like that, but-”
“He- he said that something similar happened to him the summer before sixth year, because of Voldemort,” Harry willed himself to remember that conversation with Draco. “But it got mostly better, until… well, this attack.”
Hermione was silent then for several moments. “He needs help, Harry… he needs a professional. OCD can be debilitating even without the threat of one’s obsessive thoughts actually coming true. I’m certain that the fact that the murderer hasn’t been caught makes things ten times worse for him.”
“And, learning this,” Ron spoke again. Harry had nearly forgotten that he was there. “Hermione, I love you, but Ministry holding, while it’s nothing like prison, it’s not a walk in the park either. And in a high-profile case like this, questioning will be rough. I reckon Malfoy won’t fare well if he’s kept in there for long.”
Harry left his seat this time, feeling slightly cold as he got away from that chair. “Do you think we can see if he’s done with his meeting, now? I want to get Draco out.”
Hermione bit her lip. “Oh alright. His office is on the other side of the corridor to the left. But don’t think we’re dont talking about this thing between you and Malfoy,” she warned.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied, leaving her office and bounding for the direction she had indicated. OCD? Was that what it was? Did Draco know? Had he been hiding the fact out of embarrassment? Or was he wholly unaware of what it might be called and that he could get help?
They arrived at Kingsley's office to discover it locked. Harry cursed under his breath.
“He must not be back yet,” said Ron. And just as they were about to turn right back around to Hermione’s office, A voice rang out from the other side of the corridor.
“Ah, Mister Potter, Mister Weasley. Looking for me?”
Harry rushed to respond. “Yes, sir. It’s urgent.”
Kingsley raised his brows, approaching his door. “Well then, come on in.”
Harry explained the situation to Kingsley in a single breath, feeling the minutes tick by, minutes that could have been spent getting Draco out.
“-And so you see, you must, that even though this is a difficult case, it’s really absurd to think that Draco knows much of anything about his father’s activities. It’s even more absurd to think that he viciously tortured and nearly killed himself to throw us off. Kingsley, you have to help us get him out of holding. His place in this case isn’t there.”
Kingsley was silent for several moments. Harry waited with bated breath to hear what he would say.
“Draco Malfoy…” Kingsley was speaking to himself. He raised his wand and pointed it towards a cabinet, which opened itself and spit out a large cream-coloured folder. He opened the file, beginning to speak. “I understand your frustration, Harry, and I daresay you and your team are quite right. However…” Kingsley dragged a finger underneath words on parchments, then flipped through a few of them, repeating the action. “...Aha. Just as I suspected.” His mouth formed a thin line, and he sighed. Harry held his breath. “Draco Malfoy’s three-year probationary period, enacted in July of 1998, hasn’t been completed, and now he’s listed in the evidence of a high-profile murder case… As much as I understand your frustration, this is protocol… Mister Malfoy still has seven months left until his monitoring is finished and he’s allowed to live in the magical world again.”
“But sir-”
“This is a very public matter, Harry.”
“Minister,” began Ron. “Surely, there must be some way that we can help Malfoy… I get the procedures and everything, but we’re wasting our time treating him as a suspect. And I’m the former head of this case. Mine and my team’s opinion should be taken into account.”
“And I assure you, Mister Weasley, that it is… Only, due to Mister Malfoy’s probationary period still being in place, as well as the high-profile nature of this case, it is going to take me some time to help you.”
“How much time?” Harry’s heart was pounding.
“I might not be able to get his situation sorted until tomorrow evening.”
Off to the side, a glass decanter of whiskey exploded into pieces.
“That’s too long, Kingsley,” Harry began, feeling his fists curl up.
“I’m a busy man, Harry. I am doing what I can-”
“He’s not in a state to be in Ministry holding overnight-”
“I assure you, Harry, that Ministry holding is perfectly safe.”
“You’re not listening-” Harry bit. Ron reeled him back again.
“Minister, we as an Auror team have reason to believe that Malfoy’s value as a witness might be compromised if he’s made to stay overnight. As it is now, his trust in us has probably been eviscerated.” Harry didn’t miss how Ron neglected to inform Kingsley that Harry threw his badge across the department and quit. He smiled inwardly at that. More leverage for them.
“I understand. I was once an auror myself, you know, working many a complicated case. I will do everything in my power to get him out sooner rather than later. However, for now, we will have to allow the process to go on while we work on a way to release him without upsetting the balance of the department, his past case, and the current case. You are dismissed.”