Chapter 43: 43. Even Old Men Make Mistakes
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Happy sat by the headmaster's table and waited for the questions to be asked. With Dumbledore acting as the mediator, Happy wondered if the old man was also interested in the interrogation and not really in protecting him. Or it could be both.
"Questions about what, Minister?" Happy asked the repulsive-looking man. He already despised him; he could feel it in his heart. There could not have been a more ignorant Minister for Magic at a time when Voldemort attempted to regain power.
Moody began questioning as he had more experience with it. "It's about your relations with your family. Until a year ago, nobody knew about a boy named Happy Lestrange. Then you appeared out of nowhere, claiming to be the heir to House Lestrange—with 'proof', nonetheless. Will you tell us where you have been all these years?"
Happy had realized long ago that his method of reincarnation didn't include the world recognizing him as an integral part of it. He appeared suddenly out of nowhere, an eleven-year-old child instead of a newborn baby. So, questions were going to be raised for sure.
Even if not asked, he was confident many pureblood nobles were scratching their heads, especially Lucius, who had probably discovered a new Lestrange from the school's list and just decided to suck up.
"I lived in the Lestrange Manor. My father was Rodolphus Lestrange Senior. Rabastan Lestrange and Rodolphus Lestrange Junior are my older brothers, both of whom are in Azkaban. As you can see, I was born very late.
"By then, Vold...He Who Must Not Be Named had firm control of the wizarding world. So my father decided to keep me away from all of that, as he wanted me to continue the Lestrange bloodline and not waste it in service of the Dark Lord," Happy explained in detail, even though it was a fabricated story.
"Hah, what a joke," Moody scoffed, disbelieving. "You expect us to believe that? Your father was one of the original members of the Dark Lord's cult."
"People change," Dumbledore interjected. "Lestrange Senior was an old man by the time Happy must have been born. Trust me, Alastor, when one is nearing the end of their life, the mind opens up, the dark clouds dissipate, and regrets take over."
'Nice save, old man.' Happy finally saw something good in a long time.
Minister Fudge chuckled at Dumbledore's words and agreed. "You're right, Albus. I've heard about Mr. Lestrange saving Longbottom boy despite being attacked by him. He certainly doesn't hold any misguided views. But the rumors circulating outside...they're worrisome. First, the rumor of golden blood, and now Heir to Slytherin. Such matters have never surfaced in Hogwarts before this year, Albus...We must investigate."
Dumbledore stroked his beard while inquiring, "And how do you wish to investigate?"
"With a blood test. It will clarify everything about his Lestrange lineage and his golden blood. By tracing his ancestry, we might be able to clear his name of any association with Slytherin's bloodline, too," proposed Fudge.
"You cannot do that, Cornelius," Dumbledore spoke softly, yet with a commanding presence. "Blood is the most precious thing for a wizard, for it can be misused in unimaginable ways. Furthermore, we must not forget that the Gringotts have already approved of his family ties."
Happy silently sat there, allowing Dumbledore to handle everything, as the old man was aware of his unique blood. However, he wondered what the investigation was truly about. It didn't seem to be connected to the Basilisk attacks and the mysterious petrification of individuals. On the contrary, it almost felt as if...
'They're interested in my blood? Purebloods do hold significant power in the ministry. Could they have pressured Fudge to try and confirm things? But Moody would never do such a thing…what the hell is going on?' Happy tried to make sense of things with whatever knowledge he possessed.
"Then how do we prove it?" Fudge asked.
Happy's brows furrowed, and he spoke. "Excuse me, prove? Prove what? As far as I'm aware, I haven't done anything. I'm just a student living my ordinary life. If it's about my heritage, I don't need to prove anything. Gringotts has already done so. Perhaps, now that we're here, I should inquire about Miss Rita Skeeter. How can she print and distribute fake news to tens of thousands of wizards across the nation?"
Moody loudly laughed at that and openly agreed with him. "She is a storyteller, not a journalist."
However, Happy didn't laugh. "That woman is ruining my life even within these walls. Because of her lies, my friend looks at me with doubt."
Nobody spoke further, and Happy secretly congratulated himself on his mediocre acting skills. No matter what, in body, he looked like a young, innocent twelve-year-old boy.
Cornelius Fudge stood up, donning his hat. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Mister Lestrange. You're truly a bright fellow, and I will watch your career with great interest. As for the Daily Prophet, I will speak with their chief editor. Slandering adults is one thing, but harming a child is utterly despicable. Have a good day."
Dumbledore oversaw as Moody and Cornelius moved to the chimney to use the Floo network. At last, Moody gave Happy a look before entering and throwing the power to vanish in smoke.
Dumbledore sighed and returned to his seat. "Happy, I'm afraid I must apologize to you on behalf of this school and the administration."
'What?'
Happy straightened his back. "Apologize for what, professor?"
"For ignoring the problems that you're facing. The revelation of your blood's uniqueness has made you a major target of wizards around the world now. I understand you must have felt anxious and cornered, unable to do anything.
"So I would like to ask you, Happy, how are you? Where are you planning to go in the summer? If you can't decide, I can allow you to reside in a few of my properties around the world."
'What happened to this man? Such a change in his behavior with me. So concerned about me now. Did he really have a change of heart? Or did he realize it's better to be my friend?'
"I plan on going to America and living there during the summer. I believe MACUSA has a better hold on their nation's affairs since their last Dark Lord incident decades ago." Happy shamelessly said. "Furthermore, I want to explore my idea of supplying food to impoverished locations with the help of the Room of Requirement. The food may not be as tasty as the real thing or as nutrient-rich, but I believe it surely can help people."
Dumbledore's brows rose in delight, and a smile appeared on his face. "Why do you wish to do such a thing? You hold no obligation to the hungry."
Happy looked at the beautiful phoenix perched on the side of the table and replied. "Professor, don't you think being unable to eat when feeling hungry is a cruel punishment? And since my name is Happy, there's no harm in making a few more people happy."
Dumbledore abruptly stood up from his seat and walked over to the massive bookshelf around his office room. He hummed to himself and looked around for a book, mumbling something under his breath.
"Here it is." Dumbledore took out one thick book, seemingly looking old and precious from its texture. "Take this herbology book and learn as much as you can. If you wish to feed the people, then a single magical room isn't going to help. Perhaps you will find something to permanently solve the problem in this."
"Secrets of Seeds — by Mirabel Garlick?" Happy read it aloud.
'I've never heard this name in any books. Was there something new while I was in a coma?' Happy felt confused.
"Who is she?"
"She was an esteemed professor of herbology at this school, considered to be one of the greatest herbologists of her time," Dumbledore answered him and walked closer to pat on Happy's shoulder. "Happy, no matter what happens, always know that you are not alone in this school. If you need guidance, you shall find it. If you need protection, you will have it too."
Happy mistakenly looked up into Dumbledore's sparkling eyes as the sudden show of such kindness was new to him from adults in his new world. But, to his relief, Dumbledore looked away as if wanting to show he didn't read him.
"The school walls had started to feel cold recently, professor." Happy said and proceeded to walk towards the exit. "But not anymore—thank you."
"Do read the book," Dumbledore suggested while he retook his seat.
Happy chuckled and looked back before closing the door. "Of course, professor. I will even write my own book one day, and I will call it—Creations of Happy Lestrange: The Boy Who Eats!"
Thud!
The door shut close, leaving behind a chuckling Dumbledore and many portraits who listened to the entire exchange.
"You did the right thing supporting the boy, Albus." Said the portrait of Armando Dippet, the late headmaster of the school. "He has wit but also a kind heart. You can be kind to him, Albus. He's not like that boy in the past."
Dumbledore agreed as he relaxed in the seat. "I know, Professor—He's the opposite of him. I've seen it myself."
…
[Flashback]
A few months ago, Dumbledore ventured out personally to dispel his doubts about Happy. He closely monitored Happy's activities after the plane crash, and that's when he witnessed everything on that fateful day.
"Did she suspect anything?"
"No, Master Happy. She thanked me instead, and I left."
Happy smiled, a hint of sadness in his expression. "That was the Captain's wife. There's one more pilot and three flight attendants to go. I hope this money helps them in life."
Happy visited the families of the plane crash victims, presenting checks worth two hundred thousand pounds to each family with the aid of his disguised elf—all in the name of a charity.
At that very moment, it struck Dumbledore that his approach had been entirely misguided. That his fear of making mistakes akin to the past caused him to wrong Happy, a boy so different from what he feared.
'Not the name, but our deeds define us. Thank you for reminding me, Happy.'
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