Chapter Three
As the day passed, Harry went back and forth on whether he would actually attend dinner at The Burrow. On one hand, he did miss The Weasleys. On the other hand, Percy might be there. He was well aware of the fact that he had told Hermione that he would go, but he also knew that no one would have been surprised if he didn't show up.
It was one of the benefits of disappearing repeatedly over the last few years.
Still, despite his reservations, Harry knew that he really did want to go. He knew that he would spend most of his evening dodging questions that he didn't want to answer, but that wasn't going to stop him from spending time with his family. And so, at only a few seconds before seven, Harry Apparated to The Burrow, landing only a few meters from the lake. As was his tradition, before Harry entered the house, he walked along the shore of the lake before coming upon the marker that memorialized Charlie Weasley. He stood there for a moment, amazed that it had been almost five years since Charlie's death.
Five years since Charlie, Moody, Kingsley, and a host of others had been murdered in order to retake their country.
Five years of sleepless nights as he watched the decaying corpses of his parents march towards him in his dreams.
When Harry turned back to The Burrow, he noticed that the house had changed. In the immediate aftermath of Godric's Hollow, Arthur had been named to the Wizengamot. While this was not a particularly prestigious posting (The rules for who was on the Wizengamot were older than the Ministry itself. There were some that were members by blood right while others were appointed members and others still that had a seat because of their jobs. Overall, some four hundred people technically sat on the Wizengamot, although only a small percentage of those people actually did anything.), it had given Arthur a position of some authority within the Ministry, especially once he was named as the Head of the Committee for Appointments, the Committee within the Wizengamot that selected the Minister of Magic.
A committee that he had had to temporarily resign from when Percy's name had been brought up for Minister of Magic.
However, because of Arthur's position, along with the continued success of all of their children, The Weasleys were now one of the most powerful families in all of Britain. With that came a relatively significant pay raise and weeks at a time where the Wizengamot simply didn't operate. This had given Arthur the time and resources to work on his pet project: The Burrow itself. Thankfully, Harry was pleased to see that while the house was a bit more refined, it hadn't lost any of its whimsical charm. Entire floors still seemed to jut out from the house, supported entirely by magic, and in general, the house still seemed to lean a bit to the right, at least from where Harry was standing.
The only major change that Harry had noticed was a series of small guest houses that had been built around the main house, guest homes for their ever-growing family, if Harry had to guess. These houses were a bit more standard to his eye, at least from the outside. If they were built by Arthur, he could only imagine the eccentricities that could be found inside the house.
As Harry approached the house, he could hear the sounds of laughter and loud conversation, two staples of the Weasley experience, and despite himself, Harry smiled. Over the last few years, he had seen Arthur and Molly only a handful of times. He knew that he was always welcome at The Burrow, but the events of the last few years, the last year in particular, had soured Harry on the idea. It wasn't that he didn't want to see Arthur or Molly. He did. Desperately.
It was that he wasn't sure how he could look them in the eye. If they knew, if any one of them knew what Harry had done, he wasn't certain they would ever look at him again. Even just hearing their voices was difficult and the moment he heard Arthur go into one of his characteristically long stories about his time at Hogwarts, Harry nearly turned back.
However, just as he considered leaving, Harry heard a small pop from behind him. Without being aware of what he was doing, Harry turned on the spot, his wand instinctively raised to meet his enemy.
"Harry?"
His "enemy" was none other than Ginny Weasley and her fiancé, Katie Bell. They stood only a few inches away from the end of Harry's wand, hand in hand, fear plastered across their faces.
"Oh…" Harry said, lowering his wand. "I...you...surprised me."
"Clearly," Ginny said as she threw her arms around Harry's neck. "We missed you."
Harry couldn't speak. Instead, he wrapped his arms around Ginny's waist and held her close, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. This is what he had given up.
When Ginny let go, Katie was waiting behind him and just like Ginny, she wrapped her arms around Harry in a warm embrace. As he held onto Katie, he tried to remember the last time he had been hugged. It wasn't something that happened often anymore.
"Who is that out there?" Harry heard from just behind the door. A moment later, the door opened to reveal none other than the Weasley matriarch. Katie pulled away from Harry just in time for Molly to nearly sweep Harry off his feet in a move so patently "Molly-esque" that Harry couldn't but to laugh.
Above all else, this is what Harry missed when he left. Once Molly had finally let Harry go (he wasn't certain that his ribs could take much more abuse), she dragged Harry inside the house and immediately sat him down at the table. She grabbed a mug and filled it to the brim with tea and then set it down in front of Harry as she sat down across from him.
Harry could tell that she was about to ask him all about what he had been doing. Thankfully, just as she opened her mouth, Ron walked around the corner. Seeing Harry metaphorically cornered by his mother combined with the look of horror on Harry's face, Ron knew just what to do.
"Mum, let the man breathe. He's been in the house two seconds."
Harry watched as Molly looked back at Ron, then to Harry, and then back to Ron again, who gave her a disapproving look, his eyebrows silently speaking for him. Clearly, Molly got the message and Harry silently passed a message of thanks to his oldest friend, who nodded in response.
Dinners like these at The Burrow were not an uncommon experience. What was rare was that there were so few people in attendance. Bill and Tonks (along with their daughter, Lyra) were coming back from a vacation in Germany for the New Year (the reason that Ron had been the one to lead the Aurors and not her), Percy had elected not to attend when he learned that Harry was coming, and both Fred and George were working, Fred at the Diagon Alley shop and George in New Hogsmeade. That meant that Arthur and Molly were joined by Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Katie, one of the smallest gatherings that Harry could remember.
To be honest, Harry appreciated the smaller gathering. It meant that the conversation in the room didn't have much opportunity to splinter into a bunch of smaller conversations, which allowed Harry to keep the conversation away from his most recent absence. Instead, they talked about Ginny and Katie's new home in Lyon, Hermione's recent promotion, the last two dates that Ron had been on, some legislation that Arthur had been working on, and the expanded dining room that Molly had specifically asked for when Arthur had remodeled The Burrow.
All told, it was a lovely night but as the desert plates were cleared from the table, Harry couldn't help but feel off. He was doing his best to be comfortable, but the longer the night went on and the more Harry had to actively work to avoid what he had been doing, the worse he felt. These people were his family and he was keeping everything from them. While they knew most of what he had done while he had been training with Dumbledore, his life over the last two years was almost a complete mystery to them.
Ostensibly, they knew that he had been "hunting Voldemort." But they had no real idea what that meant. They had no idea what Harry had done.
As Molly finished putting the last plate in the sink, Harry stood.
"Well, I think I should be going," Harry said firmly. "I've got a meeting tomorrow."
"Tomorrow is Sunday," Hermione said.
Tomorrow was Sunday, Harry realized as everyone in the room looked at him, clearly having caught him in a lie. Rather than own up to it, Harry smiled.
"Is it really?" Harry asked. "You know I'm just tired, I guess. Being back, it's throwing me for a loop."
"Clearly," Hermione replied, a stern look on her face.
Why did she always have to know when he was lying?
"In any case, I'm going to get out of here. Let me know when the next dinner is and I'll try to be here."
He knew that it was a poor deflection, but it didn't matter. Before anyone had the chance to stop him, Harry pushed through the back door and Apparated back to Potter Manor, landing in the hallway outside his bedroom. When Harry opened the door, he half expected Hermione to be standing there, ready to scold him for running out so quickly.
But the room, and the rest of the house, was empty as always. Harry slept fitfully that night, only getting a few hours at a time before a gurgling noise, the sound of someone choking, woke him up. The first time that had happened a few months earlier, Harry had been certain that he was being haunted, followed by a ghost.
Eventually, Harry realized that the truth was actually worse: he was haunted by the memories in his own mind.
It wasn't until the next morning that Harry heard from anyone, which was surprising for a couple of reasons. As part of his training, Harry had developed an unfortunate habit of waking up at almost exactly five in the morning. At this point, he didn't even need an alarm or a spell of some kind to ensure that he woke up on time.
Which is why it was surprising that when he awoke, the sun not yet risen, Harry noticed a small note on his bedside table. It hadn't been there when he had gone to sleep, which meant that someone had sent it to him that morning or very late the previous night.
The second surprise was that it wasn't from Ron or Hermione, but from Ginny. The note was short:
Lunch at The Cauldron.
See you at 1.
-Gin
Trust Ginny not to bother asking but to simply assume that he would come. If it was anyone else, Harry might have considered not going, but he knew that Ginny would hunt him down one way or another. So, rather than ditch her, Harry showed up right at one and found a table in the corner where he could see the whole room.
Ginny was a few minutes late, but when she sat down, she told him that it was because Katie had originally insisted on coming.
"I had to explain that this was not one of those couple things."
"Yeah...what is this exactly?" Harry asked.
"This is lunch with my older brother," Ginny explained.
"We just had dinner last night."
Ginny cocked her head in confusion. "Did we? I don't seem to remember you being there."
"Ginny…"
"I suppose you were present but you said practically nothing all night, something that went unnoticed by exactly no one. And when you did speak, you deflected every possible question back at us."
Harry had expected this. What he hadn't expected was how immediately aggressive Ginny was about bringing it up. Of course, it was Ginny, so he shouldn't have been surprised. Chalk that up to another thing that he had forgotten in his time away.
"I was just...being polite," Harry said, searching for a lie that made sense. "Letting everyone tell me what had happened since I was home last."
"Do you honestly think anyone in that room gave a damn about what happened here?" Ginny asked. While the words might have sounded cruel, Ginny had a way of being brisk without being offensive, a quality that was unique to her. "Everyone else in the room knew exactly what happened. We were here, Harry."
"But I didn't know what happened."
"Yes, you did," Ginny replied flatly. "We're not complete idiots. We may not be Harry Potter or Hermione Granger, but most of us are smart enough to figure out that you knew exactly what was going on here."
She was right, of course, but Harry wasn't about to admit it too quickly.
"What makes you say that?"
"Your dramatic return in New Hogsmeade. You could have chosen any time to come back. No one, and I mean this nicely, no one believes that was a coincidence. No one that knows you anyway."
"So what? You think I was just waiting for the opportunity to save the day before I came back?"
"Don't make it sound so bad," Ginny replied. "You did it to send a statement. Whether it was to Voldemort or the Death Eaters or even Percy, I'm not exactly sure, but I would never accuse you of waiting around for no reason."
Harry wanted to deny the accusation but knew that any refusal of her theory would have to come with the explanation of why he was waiting, which could lead down the winding trail of what he was doing.
Plus, she had the added benefit of being right.
"Fine, you caught me. I knew that Voldemort was back in Britain and I wanted to make it clear that I was back too."
"And for that, you needed a bit of a spectacle," Ginny rationalized. "Listen, I get it, I'm a professional Quidditch player. Everything in my life is a bit of spectacle."
"Speaking of that, how's Lyon?"
Ginny's eyes narrowed. "It's fine. Harry, where have you been? Before you say that you were "hunting Voldemort," know that I've heard that answer from both Ron and Hermione. It may be the truth, but there's something else, something you are hiding, because if you were just "hunting Voldemort," you could tell us what you were doing."
Normally, Harry didn't mind Ginny's conversational style, which could kindly be describe as attempting to talk with the front end of a battering ram. Today, however, she was encroaching on a subject that was still raw for Harry, even several months later.
"You're not wrong."
"So what happened?"
"Nothing happened."
"You're lying."
"Yes, I know," Harry replied. "If I won't tell Ron or Hermione, what makes you think that I'll tell you?"
It was a bit nastier of a comeback than Harry had intended, but Harry desperately wanted to avoid this conversation. Not only was Ginny not offended by the comment, she wasn't cowed by it either.
"Well, would you tell Parvati?" Ginny countered. "Oh, that's right, you're not talking to her."
"That's...I…" Harry stuttered, unsure how exactly he was supposed to respond to that barb.
"That's what? That's not fair?" Ginny snapped back at him. "You've been back for at least two days, although I'd hazard a guess to say it's been a bit longer than that. Have you reached out to her once?"
"Listen, my relationship with Parvati is none of your business," Harry shot back. "She and I will fix things in our time. When we do that is between Parvati and myself. In the meantime, I'd like you and everyone else to kindly butt out."
Ginny scoffed and leaned back in her chair.
"You don't get it."
"Don't get what?" Harry snarled. He had tried his best to remain cordial, but the longer Ginny picked at this particular wound, the less accommodating his tone became.
"You think that your relationship with Parvati is the only one that's suffering. But you don't trust anyone, you don't talk to anyone, not even Hermione."
"I've been a bit busy."
"Harry, do you remember the day you told us that you were leaving? You told us you were going and the first question any of us, even Padma, asked was-"
"When are we leaving?" Harry replied, cutting Ginny off. "What's your point?"
"My point is that we were ready to walk out the door with you. All of us were ready to throw away our lives to go and train with you. This wasn't like Albania. Ron and Hermione had a choice in that, but the rest of us, we were just along for the ride. But when you told us that you were going, we were ready to jump on board. We were all ready to follow you and you were the one who told us to stay here. You told us that being a part of our world was important to defeating Voldemort."
"And it was important."
"Then where have you been?" Ginny barked loud enough that several of the other patrons around the bar looked at her. "Sure, killing Voldemort is important, but you've let it become the only thing in your life. You are dating Parvati in name only, your best friends don't know you anymore, and the Ministry of Magic remains a mess. The only action you've taken against the Ministry was doing your best to ensure that Percy didn't get the Minister's job and that's only because you can't forgive him for betraying our family. People like the Notts or Ezekiel Greengrass? You've said nothing about them. You've done nothing about them."
"I don't know if you remember that there's a Dark wizard out there, hellbent on killing me and taking over the world."
"I remember," Ginny said softly. "My parents have a gravestone behind their house to help them remember."
Of all the things that Ginny had said, that was the one that really truly hurt. Ginny was as blunt as person could be, but there was never any harmful intention behind it. She just simply didn't believe in wasting time beating around the bush.
This was not that. Ginny hadn't said it simply to be direct. She mentioned Charlie to hurt him, so that he could feel the pain that she had felt. At any other time, Harry would have been angry at her for bringing Charlie up in such a reckless fashion, but he knew that Ginny did it for a reason. He knew that she was trying to point out that he wasn't the only person who had been affected by Voldemort and the war.
She was right, of course, but that didn't make the jab hurt any less.
"Ginny...Gin, that's not-"
"I know that's not what you meant, Harry," Ginny said stoically. "Do you have anything in your life outside of Voldemort?"
"What do you mean?"
"For over four years, you've been all around the world, training and hunting Voldemort. What else do you have in your life?"
"I have…"
Harry was about to tell her that he had his friends and family, but he knew that was the point that she was trying to make. Did he truly have Ron and Hermione anymore? Did he have Parvati? The sense of guilt and responsibility he felt after Godric's Hollow had led him to become singularly dedicated to ending Voldemort. In exchange, he had given up everything and everyone. He knew that Ron and Hermione weren't dating anymore, but he didn't have any more information on how that happened. He knew about their lives, he knew Ginny's life and Parvati's, but that was information given to him by others. Harry hadn't been around to experience any of it.
He was hardly even a participant in their lives at all. Bill, practically his oldest brother, and Tonks had a three-year-old child that Harry had seen twice and it had been months after her birth before he had even held her. By that point, Lyra already recognized Ron and Hermione, but had no idea who Harry was.
"Exactly," Ginny said when he realized that he didn't have an answer. "What's the point of beating Voldemort if you lose yourself in the process? Even when you were growing up, you had friends. You had a family. Now, those people are strangers and that's because you won't let them in. Something clearly happened to you out there and you won't tell anyone about it."
"If you knew what happened, you wouldn't tell anyone about it either," Harry said morbidly.
"Harry, you are one of the most honorable people that I know. I'm sure that whatever happened wasn't that bad," Ginny said. "Just tell someone about it."
Harry considered telling Ginny what happened that fateful night. Of all his friends, she was the one least likely to judge him for his actions. In the end, Harry decided against it simply because he couldn't ensure that Ginny wouldn't tell Ron or Hermione and the last thing he needed while beginning his work was the SAF was the two of them coming down on him for his negligence.
"I'll consider it."
"That means no," Ginny said as she stood, a shadow of anger crossing her face. "That's fine. You are certainly entitled to keep your secrets. Just don't expect everyone to stand by you forever if you do."
Ginny grabbed a couple of Sickles from her pocket and tossed them on the table.
"I'll see you at the wedding."
"Isn't your wedding in March?" Harry asked.
"Yes."
"You don't think we'll see each other for two whole months?"
Ginny gave Harry a grim smile. "If I could only get that lucky."
Ginny gave Harry one final look before she turned and walked away, leaving him sitting at the table, alone. Harry didn't know what to do. He knew that Ginny was right. He knew that he had largely abandoned his friends, his family. But he also knew that Voldemort needed to be stopped at all costs.
Despite the fact that it was only one in the afternoon, Harry went to the bar and ordered an entire bottle of Firewhiskey. Tom gave Harry a strange look but gave him the bottle anyway. Harry took the bottle and a glass back to his seat in the corner, opened the bottle, and began to drink.
Harry wasn't an alcoholic. He knew when it was time to stop and he had never gotten so drunk that he didn't know what was going on. But he also knew that his relationship with alcohol wasn't entirely healthy at this point in his life. Harry only drank on rare occasions and those occasions were almost all bad. This was another one of those situations.
When no one was looking, Harry cast a few vanity Charms on his face, altering his appearance just enough so that he could sit and drink in public without people constantly staring at him. Over the next several hours, Harry sat and considered his life until the bottle was empty. Rather than go home, Harry, whose vanity Charms had worn off hours earlier, staggered to the bar and ordered another bottle.
This time, Tom refused to serve him. Instead, he set a glass of water and a room key in front of him.
"What's this?" Harry grumbled.
"This'll help yeh sober up a bit before you go home."
"Who says I'm going home?"
"I do," Tom said firmly. "Don't make me throw you out, Mr. Potter. I know that neither one of us wants that."
Harry was about to say something combative when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to see none other than Fleur Delacour standing behind him.
"Merci, Monsieur Tom," Fleur said. "I will take my friend from 'ere."
"Just make sure that he stays out of trouble, Miss Delacour."
Harry felt Fleur's hand tighten on his shoulder before she dragged him away from the bar and back to his seat in the corner. She nearly threw him into his chair before she took a seat at the table across from him.
"I 'ave a feeling zat you do not want ze Daily Prophet to know zat you are getting drunk at ze Cauldron."
"How would they know?" said Harry.
"Because your vanity Charms 'ave worn off, 'Arry," Fleur replied. "I know zat you prefer your solitude, but if you want to drink in public, you should do a better job of casting your spells."
"I do just fine," Harry growled. "What are you even doing here?"
"I am staying 'ere," Fleur replied. "I 'ave an interview with ze Governors of 'Ogwarts tomorrow."
"The governors? I thought they only did the interviews for a new Headmaster."
"Oui."
"Wait a minute, you're interviewing to be Headmaster?" Harry asked. "I thought Flitwick was the Headmaster."
"He was until a few weeks ago. 'Owever, he resigned ze position a few weeks ago due to an illness zat it is not likely zat he will recover from."
"Merlin."
"He is not dying, 'Arry, but he is too sick to do ze job. Ze Governors 'ave interviewed three candidates already. I am ze last."
"Well, I hope you get it."
"As do I," Fleur replied. "Now, why are you sitting in zis place, drinking by yourself?"
"Can't a man drink alone?"
"Only a sad one."
"Right," Harry said. "I guess I'm not allowed to be sad."
"You are allowed to be sad."
"I'm glad that I have your permission," Harry replied. "I'm glad you're here. At least with you, I don't have to pretend that everything is alright."
"I know zat you are ashamed about what 'appened with Viktor. I know zat you wish zat you could change zings. But I zink zat you would feel better if you told someone about it."
"No, I don't think I'll do that," Harry snapped. "Why the hell would I do that? Everyone already looks at me strangely as it is."
"And you zink zat zem knowing zat-"
"Don't finish that sentence," Harry snapped back at her. "You don't talk about that. Do you hear me?"
Fleur paused. "I understand, but I zink zat you are making a mistake."
"Well, that's my mistake to make, isn't it?"
"Zat it is," Fleur said as she stood. "I am 'eading upstairs to prep for my interview. You may join me if you like."
"What are we going to do if I join you?" Harry asked playfully.
Fleur was not amused.
"I will prepare for my interview. You will sleep off all of ze alcohol you 'ave consumed."
"Are you sure? I can think of other ways to pass the time."
If Fleur hadn't been amused the first time, she was downright hostile at this point. She leaned over the table so that her face was only inches from his.
"Aren't you still dating Parvati, ze woman whose picture you 'ave in your pocket? Ze same picture that you've carried around for ze last four years? If so, zen I am just going to pretend zat I didn't hear you ask zat question and zat ze alcohol in your system is making you stupid. I 'ave always thought zat you were better zen most men. Apparently not."
Harry knew that he had crossed a line. But for some reason, whether it was the whiskey or the pit of despair that he had fallen into, he found that he didn't much care.
"Go home, 'Arry. I know zat ze last few years have been 'ard on you, but zis cannot be how you act. Zis cannot be ze man zat you are."
"And why not?"
"Because," Fleur said sadly, "you will never defeat him like zis and you will die sad and alone."
Fleur collected her belongings and left, leaving Harry alone with nothing but his thoughts. Was she right? Harry had thought that the only way to beat Voldemort was to dedicate himself to matching the Dark wizard, even at the expense of those around him. Was all that for naught?
Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out the picture of Parvati that Fleur had mentioned. It had been taken just a few days before The Battle of Hogwarts. It didn't honestly reflect what she looked like anymore, but it reminded Harry of the last time that he had felt safe.
The last time that he had felt happy.
Harry waited at The Cauldron for another hour so that he could sober up and Apparate home. When he got home, he considered sending a letter to Parvati, but decided against it. Whether Fleur was right or wrong, Harry couldn't be certain, but he knew that he wasn't in the right headspace to talk to Parvati at the moment, even if he knew that he would see her in the morning.
He just hoped that they could keep things professional until they had the opportunity to talk.
As usual, Harry slept little and when he awoke at five the next morning, he felt more tired than when he had gone to bed the night before. Still, he knew that for the first time in his adult life, he had to go to work. For the next few hours, Harry reviewed the information that he already had on Voldemort's whereabouts and his activities over the last few months, information that he would need to share with the SAF sooner rather than later.
After a quick workout, shower, and a light breakfast, Harry was ready to go. Only a few weeks after The Battle of Hogwarts, Amelia Bones had called Harry into the Ministry of Magic. She knew that Harry was planning to go off and train, but she also knew that a time would come when he would have to after Voldemort and when that time came, she wanted him to be prepared, yes, but also legally covered.
On that day, she gave Harry the same diplomatic status as a Senior Auror. This meant that if Harry needed assistance from other Ministries, he could act as an agent of the British Ministry. It did mean that he had to follow some additional rules and regulations, but Harry had decided that those rules were less important than catching Voldemort. Thus far, the only rule that he hadn't broken was a provision that prevented the murder of foreign Ministry officials while on official Ministry business.
This special status meant that Harry, who had also been granted a few other special privileges, could simply Apparate directly to the Atrium, something that only a few of the most Senior officials in Percy's Ministry and the top ranks of the Wizengamot could say of themselves.
As expected, the moment he landed, he was swarmed by reporters, photographers, and more than a few Ministry employees, people who just wanted to get a glimpse of Harry Potter. Rather than engage with any of them, Harry just pushed through the crowd to the lift. Even when the lift door closed and started to rise, Harry could still hear the people shouting, desperately asking him questions that Harry had no intention of answering.
Harry readily admitted that his relationship with the media was peculiar, largely because of how one-sided it was. If Harry didn't need anything from The Prophet or any of the other magical press, he simply didn't interact with them, not even giving them so much as the courtesy of a "no comment." But the moment that Harry wanted to talk, they were still there to listen. It was an abusive relationship, one where Harry held all of the power. He knew that eventually the press would turn on him and more than once his prickly nature had led to some unflattering articles, but the moment he came to them, they practically ate out of his hand.
Harry's first stop that morning would be to Tonks' office and from there, a briefing with the SAF. After that, Harry would likely return home and spend the rest of the day reviewing all of the cases that the SAF had open. That was if Tonks gave him control of the SAF as he expected.
Harry walked through the Auror Office, ignoring the looks that he was receiving, and found Tonks' office door. He knocked on the door and then, after only a moment, he entered. Thankfully, Tonks was sitting at her desk, reading something.
"Head Auror Tonks?"
Immediately, Tonks' eyes snapped up to his and a smile crossed her face.
"Harry James Potter, you sit your pretty ass down," she said, pointing to the chair across from his desk.
"Don't let your husband hear you calling me pretty."
"I didn't call you pretty, Potter. I called your ass pretty and I'm relatively certain I can get away with that."
"Fair enough," Harry replied as he sat. "How is Bill doing?"
"Ask him yourself," Tonks replied. "I'm certain that you'll be visiting soon."
"You are?"
"Well, I'm your boss now, so yes, I expect we'll receive a visit from you soon."
"Isn't Percy technically my boss?"
Tonks scoffed. "Do you really want Percy to be your boss?"
"Not particularly."
"Do you want to run the SAF?"
"I do."
"Then, I'm your boss and I expect you to come over for dinner and dote on my daughter, goddamn it."
"Yes, ma'am," Harry replied, unable to keep himself from laughing.
"Good. Now, let's go introduce you to your new team."
Tonks stood and exited her office, Harry following her, as she led him to a conference room next door. The members of the SAF, as expected from the finest Aurors in the Office, were always early, ready, and waiting. Once again, Harry's eyes locked on Parvati, who was pointedly staring at Tonks. She clearly thought that she was doing a good job portraying an attentive Auror, but Harry could tell from her body language that she was uncomfortable.
"Members of the SAF, good morning," Tonks said as she approached the front of the room. There was a podium where Tonks now stood with a dozen chairs arranged in two rows facing her while Harry stood off to the side. The members of the SAF occupied the first row and had left the second empty.
"Effective this morning, The Special Activities Force will take their orders from Harry Potter. I trust that I don't need to introduce him to you. Harry will report to myself and to the Minister. You will continue to work your normal case load in addition to the mission that Harry intends to assign you. Any questions?"
The room was silent.
"Good. Mr. Potter, you know Ron and Parvati. This is Daphne Greengrass, Sam Williamson, Michael Kliner, and Kevin Goran. Williamson and Weasley are the mission leaders for this unit, although if you wish to appoint a new mission leader or want to take that responsibility yourself, you may do so."
"Of course," Harry said, knowing that he would do none of these things. The only person in the room right now that Harry could trust was Ron and he needed them all to trust him. He was not about to upset their structure on day one.
"Great. Now, I'll stick around to see what Harry has to say. After that, you're on your own."
Tonks stepped away from the podium and motioned for Harry to take her place. Harry nodded and moved towards the podium. He placed a hand on either side of the podium, looked out over his new unit, and began his first briefing.
"Good morning," Harry said firmly to which all six of them, even Parvati, echoed him.
"As Head Auror Tonks stated, the Minister of Magic has given me permission to use the SAF and its resources on a very important mission: locating and ultimately killing Lord Voldemort."
Immediately, every ear in the room perked up at the mention of the Dark wizard.
"I understand that you all have been going after Death Eaters. We're going to keep doing that, but we're going to do it with the express purpose of learning where Voldemort is hiding."
"Do you believe that Voldemort has returned to Britain?" Williamson asked. "Last I heard, he was overseas."
"I do," Harry replied. "I've spent most of the last two years tracking Voldemort. He's searching for...something. During that time, he's visited Egypt, The United States, Somalia, India, Hungary, and The Philippines. In each location, he visited an expert of some kind, all of whom turned up dead shortly thereafter with all of their research stolen when the local authorities arrived on the scene."
Harry reached down into his bag and pulled out six folders that he had prepared. As he passed them out, he continued speaking.
"The most recent attack was in The United States where he killed a man named Samuel F. Watcher. Watcher was a renowned magical theorist who specialized in the theory of multiple realities."
"I'm sorry. He studied what?" Goran asked.
"The theory of multiple realities," Harry repeated. "Listen, Watcher studied this for eighty years so I'm not going to even begin to try and spell out what the hell he was talking about, but I will give you the most fundamental version. According to Watcher's research, it was possible to use magic to access timelines where events occurred in a different way. For example, based on his research, there's a timeline out there where I never met Ron, there's a timeline out there where Voldemort was never born, and a timeline where Dumbledore accepted the Minister's job seventy years ago, and so on. According to his theory, it is possible to create a magical field that allows you to penetrate the natural barriers that exist between these timelines."
"Wait, so you're telling me he believes that there are other versions of our world?" Goran replied.
"Exactly," Harry confirmed. "It's an outlandish theory, one that only a few respected magical theorists abide by. Watcher was one of them and now he's dead with most of his research taken. No one, not even Watcher himself, was clear on what the practical applications of this research would have been, but I know that Voldemort wouldn't want this information for no reason."
This time, Harry used his wand to send another series of files from his bags to each of the Aurors.
"In these files, you will find all of the relevant information on one of the six attacks. I have already been in contact with the Aurors from each respective country who are handling the case and informed them that you would be coming."
"Wait, we're going there?" Ron asked.
"Yes," Harry stated. "Your mission is to fully brief this team in two weeks on the nature of the murder that you were assigned along with a brief summary of what that person was working on as well as any practical application for their research. These people were the best in their fields, bright and talented in obscure, rare, and often controversial branches of magic. Together, we're going to figure out why Voldemort wanted the research for these people. Any questions?"
Surprisingly, there were none. Instead, all six of them, Parvati included, simply stared at him, waiting for further orders.
"Take the rest of the day to finish tying down your work here. All six of you leave tomorrow. You're dismissed."
Immediately, all six of them stood. Five of them walked towards the door while Ron walked towards Harry. However, before Ron could get to him, Tonks stepped between them.
"You're sending my best six Aurors out of the country at the same time?"
"Voldemort is back in the country, Tonks," Harry replied sharply. "He left here after Godric's Hollow and he hadn't returned, which means that there's either something here that he needs-"
"Or he's done preparing."
"Exactly," Harry said. "Time is a luxury we don't have. I understand the security risk of sending them all out simultaneously, but we need information and we need it sooner rather than later."
Tonks nodded. "I understand. I just hope they get back quickly. I don't like the idea of them being gone for long."
"We'll be back as soon as we can, ma'am," Ron said over her shoulder.
"Ma'am? Who the hell do you think you are, your brother?" Tonks said with a chuckle.
"Tonks, I really didn't need to know that Bill calls you ma'am."
"I was talking about Percy, you dolt," Tonks replied. "Merlin, you gotta wonder what Hermione Granger saw in this guy to begin with."
"Hey, I may not be that smart but I have my dashing good looks."
Tonks turned back to Harry.
"I rest my case," she said with a grin. "Get to work, both of you."
"Of course," Harry said as Tonks walked away, leaving Ron and Harry alone.
"You're sending me to Somalia?" Ron asked.
"I needed someone that I trusted," Harry replied. "My relationship with the Somalian Ministry is not great."
"Why?" Ron asked suspiciously.
"Because I don't have one. They know me by name only. Even if you don't find anything, I needed someone that I knew would avoid an international incident."
"And you didn't send Parvati?" Ron asked.
"I...sent her to India," Harry replied. "The last time I was here, she mentioned that she had some family that she wanted to visit."
"She didn't happen to say that while you were fighting, did she?"
"She did."
"And you sent her there anyway?" asked Ron incredulously.
"I wanted her to know that I had listened. Plus...she was planning on going there with her parents before...so that's where she got assigned."
"Man, I hope you know what you're doing," said Ron. "Now, listen, Hermione and I want to come over for dinner tonight."
The sudden change of subject threw Harry for a loop.
"What? You want to come over...to my house? For dinner?"
Ron nodded.
"Why?"
"Because it's been more than nine months since the three of us have hung out together," Ron said, although Harry got the distinct sense that Ron was obscuring some element of the truth there. Harry considered turning Ron down before he realized that Ron asking was likely just a courtesy.
They were coming regardless of his answer.
"Sure," said Harry nervously. "Sounds good."
Only a few hours later, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were seated around his kitchen table, surrounded by the dirty dishes of dinner, with a bottle of wine. Ron and Hermione had elected to spend most of the evening informing Harry on the gossip of their former classmates. For most of the night, Harry thought that maybe, just maybe, they had elected to simply come to his house and enjoy a fun evening together.
He was sorely mistaken.
About an hour after dinner, after Ron got done telling them a particularly embarrassing anecdote about Pansy Parkinson, Hermione gave Ron a strange look and then turned to Harry. Immediately, Harry knew that he had been duped.
"No," Harry protested as he stood and began waving his wand around the room, clearing the table of the dishes.
"Harry," Hermione pleaded, "just listen to what I have to say."
"I don't want to talk about it. I already told Ginny that. I am certain that she passed that message to you, which is why you're here. Ron has brought up the subject. I avoided it. You brought up the subject. I avoided it. Why doesn't anyone care about the fact that I don't want to talk about this?"
Harry was shouting by the end and suddenly, one of the glasses floating towards the kitchen sink shattered. The room was silent as the broken pieces of the glass fell to the floor. Harry stared at the wreckage for a moment, his jaw set tight, before he whipped his wand towards the broken glass. He intended to repair it. Instead, he reassembled and then flew across the room, slammed into the far wall and shattered once again.
This time, Hermione was the one to fix it, gracefully sliding her wand through the air. The glass was repaired and followed the line of other dishes, landing gently in the sink.
"Maybe you need to talk about it, Harry," Hermione observed. "We understand the secrecy, Harry."
"Even if we think you're being a bit of a putz-"
"Ron!" Hermione scolded.
"What?"
"You're not helping!" Hermione sighed breathlessly. "We don't think you're being a putz, we just think you're being a little overly cautious. Ever since you've come back, there's clearly something been bothering you."
"You've never been much for the strong, silent type, even after all your fancy training with Dumbledore. You kind of wear your emotions on your sleeve."
"What's your point?" Harry grunted.
"Tell us," Hermione begged. "Tell us and only us what is bothering you. That's what we're here for. It's what we've always been here for."
"We're not going to judge you, mate."
"What makes you think that you might judge me?" Harry fired back.
"Because, this secret, whatever it is that you're hiding," Hermione replied cautiously, "it's either very dangerous...or you've done something that you're ashamed of."
"What makes you think that?"
"Mate, it's you," Ron interjected before Hermione could respond. "It's always one of those two things."
Harry considered their proposal for a minute. He knew that coming back was going to be difficult after what happened, but he hadn't expected to crack after three days. To be fair, in his original plan, it would have been a few more days before he would have even approached either of them, but still, the point remained.
He knew that they were right. Importantly, he knew that they knew that they were right. They wouldn't stop asking if Harry didn't tell them anything. He had known them long enough to know that both of them were just as stubborn as he was when it came to the truth and their friends and considering that this involved both of them, he didn't imagine that either of them would relent any time soon.
"Do you promise not to tell anyone?" Harry whispered. Instead of sitting, he moved towards one of the kitchen windows, which overlooked the gardens.
"We promise," Ron replied.
"I mean no one. Not Tonks, not Molly or Arthur, certainly not Percy. If any of them ask you about what I've been doing, you lie. According to everyone outside of this room, I never told you a word."
"We can do that," Hermione said. "Just tell us what's going on."
Harry sighed. He both wanted to tell them and desperately didn't. In the end, he was glad that they were effectively taking the choice away from him.
"Four and half years ago, I left to go train with Dumbledore. For three whole years, that's all we did. Me, Viktor, Fleur, Dumbledore, the four of us, we trained night and day with the sole purpose of getting me closer to Voldemort's level. Dumbledore taught me magic that I'd never imagined, Fleur taught me control, how to set aside my emotions and let my magic truly flow, and Viktor was in charge of making sure that I was in shape. I'd never gone on a jog a day in my life. I thought he was trying to kill me."
"For three years, we do this until finally, Dumbledore says that I'm ready and we finally go on the hunt for Voldemort. For eighteen months, we searched high and low for him, training all the while. But Voldemort did not want to be found. Any trace of him after Godric's Hollow ended in Hungary. The expectation was that he had returned to The Scholomance. However, the school, much like Hogwarts, did not want to be found. We eventually narrowed down the location of the school to one of about a dozen potential sites. At that point, we had to go traipsing through the Hungarian countryside without magic to attempt to access these sites."
"Site number eight was the winner. The castle was massive, ten times the size of Hogwarts, but protected under even better concealment charms. It took us weeks just to gain access to the grounds and then another two weeks to come up with a plan to get through the guards. It was clear the moment we broke through the concealment that we had found the right place. Not only was the giant castle a relatively dead giveaway, but the dozens of guards surrounding it was the confirmation we needed."
"But, long story short, we figured it out. We got inside the castle and were able to isolate Voldemort in some sort of throne room. We had fought our way through nearly two dozen of his guards before we got to him. The others did their best to help, but even Dumbledore, at his age, was no help. Within less than a minute, they were all down. It was all down to me. Voldemort and I fought. The duel was fierce, each of us throwing the best that we had at each other. I remember what it was like to duel him as a fourteen-year-old. I remembered what it was like at Godric's Hollow. This was different. This time, we were on the same level."
"Finally, I managed to hit him with a Stunning Spell. For any other person in the world, one of my Stunners wouldn't have simply knocked him unconscious, but it also would have thrown him fifty feet. Instead, it simply knocked him off his feet. Still, I finally had the advantage, but I realized it too slowly. By the time that I stepped up to kill him, Voldemort had recovered just enough to cast some spell at Viktor and Fleur. Both of them floated straight up, dozens of meters into the air. Voldemort told me that if I tried to fight, he would kill them both. He was occupied, distracted. I had already Stunned him. I could have taken him."
"Instead, I gave Viktor just enough time to try and be a hero. Somehow, he raised his wand just enough to cast a spell at Voldemort. As expected, Voldemort deflected the spell and then threw Viktor the length of the room. I tried to hit Viktor with a Cushioning Charm...but I missed...and his body hit the ground like a sack of bricks. He died on impact."
"Merlin," said Ron.
"When I turned around, Voldemort was gone. Two days later, Nikola Forrest, the Hungarian healer, was killed by Voldemort."
"Harry…" Hermione whispered. "That...wasn't your fault."
"If I am quicker, if I'm more decisive, I kill Voldemort then and there. If he dies, then...maybe Viktor would still be alive. And now, he's experienced defeat. He knows that I can beat him and two days later, he goes out and kills some random researcher? That's not a coincidence. He's looking for something, something to give him another edge, something to ensure that he beats me. I had my chance to end it...and I failed."
Ron and Hermione sat in silence for a few moments.
"I'm sorry, mate," Ron finally said.
"What?"
"This...all this...I understand why you don't want to talk about it," Ron replied. "I'm sorry that we, you know, more or less forced it out of you."
"You weren't wrong. I did need to talk about it. Obviously Fleur and Dumbledore know, but that's not the same."
Hermione crossed the room and wrapped her arms around Harry, her head falling in between his shoulder blades.
"I know that I've said this to you before and I have no doubt that I'll say it to you again: it's-"
"Not your fault," Harry replied. "I know, I know. But that doesn't mean that it doesn't feel like my fault."
"I know."
Ron and Hermione stuck around for only a few more minutes. But since Ron had to Floo to Somalia in the morning, both she and Ron decided to leave and give Harry some space. Despite everything, Harry was sad to see them go. He was glad that they were there for him, glad that they wanted to help him. He was even glad that they made him talk.
And while it did feel good to open up to them, he couldn't help but feel guilty. This wasn't the guilt that he felt over Viktor's death. That guilt was old. He dealt with that every day as he watched or sometimes heard Viktor die in his dreams.
No, this guilt was new, caused by Harry's decision to lie to his friends once again. He told them most of the truth, but the part of the story that hurt him, the part that caused him to wonder what kind of man he really was, that part Harry intended to remain a secret until his dying day.