Capítulo 1097: 15
Chapter 15: Revelations
Sirius was ready to kill someone.
You would also be murderous if you were hungry, tired and your arse felt like you dumped it into liquid nitrogen. That is, it didn't produce any feeling at all for a couple of minutes already.
The man had been surveying Hogwarts for a while already, looking for a way past all the security. He didn't like what he was seeing. Making Moody a professor was a very, very good move on Dumbledore's part as the man's sense for potential holes in Hogwarts' defences was uncanny. He managed to ward most of the hidden pathways into the castle to high heaven and even put some traps on the grounds. Moreover, Mad-Eye was deferred to by all Aurors on guard duty, making things even more difficult for Sirius.
He was conflicted when it came to Moody. Of course, he knew the retired Auror to be a good man, loyal to the bone. Many of the same occupation were – half of the office were Hufflepuffs. But that loyalty, he knew, was not to him, even if they were once friends, or, at least, friendly acquaintances. If it came down to a confrontation, Sirius didn't like his chances. Mad-Eye had always had a 'stun first, ask questions later' policy, and he didn't believe it changed while Sirius was enjoying the Azkaban spa resort.
And if or when questions would be asked, he would have nothing as proof of his innocence aside from his own word. No court would accept that, even with the use of Veritaserum.
Therefore, he had to sneak past Alastor Moody, the Unblinking Eye of Justice, and his merry crew of enforcers.
However, it did not deter him. Yes, he was tired of waiting. Yes, he was freezing in the Scottish winter. In fact, were it not for the little bunch of spells that the Marauders used during full moon nights in winter, he might not have made it until now at all.
He scowled and renewed the heavy-duty warming charm on his coat.
He would find a way. He was Padfoot, a Marauder. He knew the school better than the back of his hand (either human or canine versions). It wasn't a matter of "can", it was a matter of "when".
On a fine Christmas morning, Harry was woken up by some unknown fluffy and growling object colliding with his midsection. The boy jumped up, dislodging the offender, which dropped to the floor with a loud yowl. The young wizard sat up on his bed, shuddering slightly from the rude awakening.
"Crookshanks... one day, I will have my revenge, you flea-ridden sack of rat mischief," he rasped, shaking his head in wariness and bemusement. The ginger cat has taken to waking up either him or Ron when his owner asked him to. Harry sometimes wondered if encouraging Hermione's growing sense of humour was that good of an idea if the price of that was occasionally having low-flying cats sneak-torpedo him in the mornings.
Nah, as long as I can look back on it and laugh a couple of minutes later, I'm good. Plus, grey hair would look rather cool...
"HARRY! GET DOWN HERE! IT'S CHRISTMAS!" Ron's voice boomed out from the general direction of the stairs. The boy yawned and slowly stood up, stretching his back and producing a number of satisfying pops.
"Meow!"
"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming. Oh, and next time, you're getting sprayed with icy water."
"Grrrmeowl!"
"See if I don't." raising his voice, he shouted down the stairs. "HEY, WHERE ARE ALL THE PRESENTS?"
"DOWN HERE! GET MOVING OR YOU WILL START AUTOMATICALLY DONATING YOUR SWEETS TO THE HUNGRY OF HOGWARTS!"
Chuckling, Harry walked down to the Common room. All Gryffindors who stayed in the castle, namely Ron, Hermione, the new Keeper on the Quidditch team, Luke Channeler, and a couple of sixth years whose names Harry didn't know.
"Merry Christmas, everyone!" the boy threw cheerfully, walking to the hearth where the whole company was sitting on pillows. A chorus of congratulations sounded in response.
"How's it going this time?"
"Dunno. We were waiting for you to show up, then 'Mione sent the Bloody Monstrosity," Ron grumbled. He still was sore for that time when he was woken up by Crookshanks and was startled so badly he tried to roll away only to collide with the lid of his trunk.
"Ah. Thanks. Well, now that I'm here, shall we?"
The sound of rustling paper filled the room. For a while, no one spoke aside of periodic delighted exclamations. Harry received a neat calligraphy set from Hermione, a huge bag of chocolate frogs from Ron, a couple of very high-quality dragon hide gloves for Potions and Herbology from Neville, a package of some kind of prank sweets from Fred and George (suspiciously lacking any kind of labels or instructions) and another Weasley jumper from Mrs. Weasley, this one bottle-green. The last package was unsigned. Harry frowned and touched his spectacles with his wand, renewing the spell-seeing charm that he had on almost constantly. The wrapping paper was clean from any magic, save for the residual house-elf magic that all the other presents had as well.
The boy sent an underpowered cutting hex at the gift and unwrapped it with another flick of his wand.
Four books.
And theywere almost screaming with signs of black magic.
"Well, damn," Harry jumped away from the innocent-looking pile. "Everyone, don't touch those. I'm going to Moody."
He quickly summoned his boots from the dorm room, donned them and walked out.
"Merry Christmas!" the Fat Lady smiled at him when he left the portrait, looking a bit tipsy. Harry nodded to her, turned away and turned on top speed.
Five minutes later, he was standing in the DADA classroom, knocking on the office door.
"Coming!" a gruff voice called out, and the characteristic 'knock, knock, knock' of the wooden leg could be heard coming closer.
"Who's there?"
"Harry Potter, professor."
Clanking ensued as many, many locks were released in succession.
"Wasn't a professor yesterday, stole my job, didn't you?" Moody joked when the heavy oaken door finally opened. He was quite obviously pointing his wand at the boy, but lowered it after a seemingly brief inspection. Harry knew it was anything but brief, as Moody's magical eye was undoubtedly pointed at him since before he raised his fist to knock.
"What got you up here in the Christmas morning? Did you receive something suspicious?"
"Right in one."
"Huh. Well, let's go and see what some bastard decided to send you. Tell me what you already know while we're walking."
Harry obliged.
"Well, I was unwrapping my presents. The last one wasn't signed. There was no magic on the wrapping aside from the signs that elves handled it, so I opened it with magic."
"Smart," Moody said approvingly, "But there's always a chance that opening it is a trigger for a curse or a sign for some creature to jump at you."
"Didn't think of that. Thank you for the tip. Well, the gift itself was a pile of books. They had some really unpleasant residue on them, so I decided to play it safe and call you."
"Good. Most books you open, others open you," the ex-Auror quipped. "If it's Black – and there's a certain possibility that's his doing – then those tomes are most probably from the Black Library."
"Sounds menacing."
"It is. Every pureblood in Britain knows of it. Everyone and their senile grandmother want it. It is the ultimate treasure trove of dark magic. But the Library has always been closed for everyone barring immediate family, even You-Know-Who haven't been granted access to it despite him trying. As far as I know, the most he got was a couple of books lent to him."
"Weren't they his supporters?"
"Aye, they were, but old Arcturus, the Head of Family, decided that he really didn't want to put all his eggs in one basket, and declared his house off-limits. He was a grouchy bastard, but sharp as goblin steel."
"Hm."
They finally reached the entrance to the Gryffindor tower.
"Perseverance," Harry told the portrait, which was looking at Moody, who cut a rather imposing figure despite the purple pyjamas. She hesitated to uncover the passage.
"Has something happened, dear?"
"Don't know yet. Hopefully not, but with my luck..." the boy shrugged. The Fat Lady nodded and swung open.
"Harry, what's the deal with those books?" Hermione asked. She was sitting near them and looking like she wanted to eat the ancient-looking tomes.
"I'm not sure."
"Move away, Granger," Moody growled, glaring at the books suspiciously. "Some books have a taste for female flesh, you know."
Hermione jumped away from the pile as if burned.
Ten minutes later, after a lengthy examination and a lot of spells cast, Mad-Eye was frowning just as severely.
"Well, those are from the Black Library, all right, but there just isn't anything harmful in them aside from their lengthy exposure to other, not so harmless books," he admitted. Harry squatted near them and read the titles aloud.
"'Now You See This, Now You don't; A Comprehensive Guide to Advanced Illusions'; 'Fooled Him Once, Fool Him Again – Charming the Minds and Senses'; 'Practical Applications of Runes'. They sure sound useful."
"Why would Black want you to study illusionary magic? And runes... that doesn't fit the picture," Moody muttered. The boy shrugged.
"That I do not know. I'll be sure to ask him when we meet."
"You do that. It might buy you some time."
Harry was in heaven. Truly, he was.
He was lying on a bench in one of the corridors between Charms and Transfiguration classrooms. His head was resting on Susan's lap, and she was stroking his head comfortingly. The boy was as relaxed as he could ever get, his eyes almost glazed over.
The interesting thing was the topic they discussed.
"Harry, have you seen the new Skeeter article?"
Grunt.
"Well, it wasn't that bad. She seems to be gaining momentum with each publication, though. It won't be long till she really cuts loose. It's her usual modus operandi."
Unintelligible mumble.
"Sorry, what was that?"
Harry forced himself to focus for five seconds needed to say what he wanted.
"Could you please run some damage control in your house?" he closed his eyes and again, he was lost to the world aside from those hands doing wonderful, wonderful things to his head.
"Sure. I've been doing that already. By the way, what was that with those presents that Hermione has been going on about during the breakfast?"
"Ah. Black sent me books."
"What?" the hands stopped. Harry opened his left eye and looked at his girlfriend with silent reproach. When she resumed her ministrations, he said:
"Well, I don't know why, but he decided to play nice and presented me with a handful of books from his library. Don't worry, I've asked Moody to check them and he hasn't found anything harmful."
"What were those?"
"Ah. Two advanced illusion tomes and a book on practical application of runes. I've skimmed through them all, they are pure gold. Dunno what bit the bastard, but he sends damn good presents."
"Hm. Maybe he wanted to ask forgiveness or something?" Susan suggested. Immediately she realised that it was the wrong thing to say, as Harry stiffened.
"If so, he can stick it," he growled. "He's one of the reasons my parents are dead, and it's not like I will just forget it because he picked some books for me!"
"Hush, Harry, calm down," the girl called, rubbing his head gently. He signed and nodded.
"Yeah. Thanks."
They continued talking for another half-an-hour before Harry had to run to the Charms lesson. When he entered the classroom, everyone stared at him in bemusement, but he didn't pay much attention to that, throwing his bag down near Ron. His friend looked at him with his jaw slowly edging in the vague direction of the floor.
"Um... Harry? What's up with the hair?"
"What are you talking about?"
"Ah, so you haven't seen. Look," the ginger transfigured the parchment with a graded essay into a mirror which was promptly pushed at Harry. He grabbed it, already suspecting what happened.
"Oh, Susan. Blast. Damn, I knew that girl liked it long, but that's a bit overdoing it, don't you think?"
"I think it suits you," Hermione observed, sitting down near the duo and facing their incredulous looks. She shrugged and added: "It adds character. You look more... you."
"Huh. Well, if you think so..." he quietened, carefully inspecting his new hairstyle. His hair, as before, nearly reached his shoulders in slight waves, but now there were braids woven here and there in a seemingly chaotic order. They gave it a rather wild look.
"You know, I think I'll leave it as it is," Harry mused. Ron snorted.
"Mate, you're nuts. You. Have. Braids."
"Nah, I'm secure enough in my masculinity to not worry about such things. Plus, they do add character..." Harry leaned closer to his male friend and whispered: "Lastly, if I keep 'em, it will score me some serious points with Susan."
Ron managed to suppress his grin.
Two days later, evening, somewhere in between the Charms classroom and Gryffindor tower
"Are you sure it's all right? It looks rather painful," Tonks asked, glancing at the huge black eye Harry sported. The boy waved her concern off.
"Nah, a bit of Bruise-Be-Gone and I'll be as good as new. I have some left in stock."
"Why would you need it?"
"The answer is staring at you."
"Psht. What was it that made you look like a panda?" Tonks asked with an obvious teasing lilt to her voice, earning a dirty look from Harry.
"A bludgeoning hex. It was a miracle I managed to lift a shield in time, even if it still mostly passed though," he grumbled, squashing an instinctual urge to touch the bruise.
"A bludgeoner from Flitwick? Ouch."
"You got it."
"Yes, yes I do."
Their friendly banter would continue, but for a certain interruption.
"Hey-lo there," a quiet, but cheerful voice called from behind. Both of them whirled around, their wands instantly up and pointed in the direction of a possible sneak attack.
A slightly gaunt figure came out of the darkness, grinning.
"Black," Harry growled, his hold on the wand tightening.
"I'm black. You're a pot. Where's the kettle?" the man replied instantly. The boy blinked.
"That was lame."
"No, it was just a classic that was already done to death," Black sighed. "Back in the day, Moony would usually transfigure a kettle hat. Ah, good old times."
"What are you doing here?" Tonks inquired, visibly tense and ready to fight.
"I just wanted to talk. Merlin knows there's a lot to talk about."
"Oh?"
"The first, and most relevant subject, is..." he didn't finish. A flash of red light illuminated him from behind, and he dropped like a puppet whose strings were cut. After two seconds, the shadow behind the prone figure twisted and transformed into Moody, his wand pointed at Black and his magical eye spinning wildly.
"Well, it looks like he hasn't lost his edge," the ex-Auror rasped, lifting the unconscious man with a flick of his wand. "He sneaked straight past all the additional traps I've installed."
"How did you know he was here?" Harry wondered, causing the scarred face of his professor to distort in a parody of a grin.
"Deduction, Potter, deduction. Deduction borne from a lot of experience... plus, I've been shadowing you for a couple of weeks already."
"What?!"
The old cripple made a brief cackle, then turned around and started walking, dragging his captive along on an invisible floating mattress of magic. Tonks and Harry shared a slightly disturbed look and followed.
They reached the Defence office in a couple of minutes. Harry, not having ever before entered the lair of the paranoid man, looked around curiously. There were all kinds of interesting trinkets in the room – a mirror filled with constantly moving mist, a whole assortment of spinning whirligigs of different shapes and sizes, a huge oak trunk with seven locks, a couple of spare wooden legs in the corner.
Oh, and everything was covered in thin layers of magic.
Overall, it was very, very Moody.
Harry was distracted from his reverie by the sounds of moving furniture. He saw that Moody placed Black on a chair and tied him to it with a couple of wand swishes.
"That ought to do it," he growled and jerked his hand. "Expecto Patronum!"
A silvery boar burst into existence, attracting a jealous look from Harry. In his continued attempts he could always produce an almost solid looking dome of light, but still couldn't quite summon a corporeal Patronus. He started to think it was really impossible for him to do so, and the thought of him finding a limit was incredibly vexing.
"Tell Amelia: I've got Black."
The bear nodded and vaporised.
It wasn't long until the doors were opened once again. In them stood a figure Harry recognised from the Quidditch Cup – the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge. Behind him, stood two Aurors and Dumbledore.
"Black is really caught! Oh, finally. The people were starting to worry," he was glancing at the knocked-out prisoner with wariness. "Moody, you've still got it. You have my thanks. Dawlish, go and get a Dementor."
"It will take some time, Minister. It won't be here until morning at least," the Auror identified as Dawlish warned before turning and leaving the room, presumably to visit Azkaban.
"Minister," Harry began. The short man whirled around at his voice.
"Oh, Harry. Why are you here?"
The boy was briefly surprised at the tone of the greeting, so different from the enthusiastic monologue of their first meeting, before remembering just who was it that he pissed off by his Bloodoak scheme. Damn, it's becoming even more difficult that I thought.
"He was actually trying to talk to me when professor stunned me."
"Talk?"
"I do not know what exactly it was that he wanted. But I would certainly like to find out."
"Harry, I really don't think it is a good idea. Makker! Escort Mr. Potter to the Gryffindor tower!"
The boy tried to argue, but the minister wasn't listening, preferring to talk to – or rather, at – Dumbledore, who was looking as if he had infinite patience for the pudgy man.
Harry sighed and walked away. When he left the room, he had a small grin on his face.
Who do they think they want to deter?
Two hours later
Harry was walking briskly along the corridor. He was under the Invisibility cloak and covered with silencing, smell-banishing and light-foot charms with a fairly strong notice-me-not thrown on top. Overkill, but with Moody in the picture, Harry didn't think even this would be enough if the professor was still there.
So far, the sneak mission was coming along without a hitch – the only difficulty being persuading Ron, Hermione and Neville that it would be much easier if he went alone.
Finally, he reached the class. The door was open, which caused Harry to frown and a faint suspicion to appear in his mind. Carefully he looked inside. Yep, there was an Auror with his wand out. After taking a few deep breaths to calm his nerves, which was only partially successful in calming down the butterfly squadron in his stomach, he carefully walked past the man, taking great care not to stumble into/over anything. The silencing charm he was using was good, but he didn't particularly want to test its limits in this situation.
Then, Harry met his next obstacle.
The door to the office was closed.
The young infiltrator knew that it was damn near impossible for him to open it without setting off an alarm or two, so he took the next option. He leaned against the wall and waited, remembering the runic application tips that he'd read in the book Black sent him. It made the wait bearable.
He couldn't tell how much time has passed, but eventually, the door's many, many locks started to click and grumble. Harry tensed and bent his knees, preparing to swiftly move. He readied his wand as well. The door opened, revealing a young Auror – Dawlish or something. Harry didn't waste a moment, whispering:
"Confundo."
The man blinked in befuddlement and walked out the office, still holding on to the door. He looked around in search of a noise he thoughthe heard. Harry grinned and flashed past him.
Boy, I'm good.
Harry mentally slapped himself. He was in Moody's office – now was really the worst time to get overconfident. The boy carefully walked forward, looking at where he stepped with care, wary of traps.
He made it to the main room and was very, very pleased to see that one – Black was still there and out of it, two – he was alone, three – there wasn't any sign of additional spells on or around him. Harry frowned and his brow twitched.
Damn it. Oh well, in for a penny, in for a pound.
He moved closer to the bound figure and carefully dispelled the charms that kept him unnoticeable and unheard.
"Ennervate."
Black twitched and opened his eyes. After a couple of seconds, he seemingly got the gist of the situation and started swearing. Harry actually tried to memorise a couple of phrases.
"Enough, I think."
The man instantly shut up and jerked his head upwards.
"Harry? That you?"
"Yes."
"Oh. Let me guess – Moody stunned me from behind, didn't he?" his voice was resigned.
"Indeed. Now, what was it that you wished to talk about so badly that you have broken into a castle that Mad-Eye guards?"
Black was silent for a minute, and then sighed.
"My innocence."
"What?" whatever Harry expected, it wasn't that. "You want to tell me that it wasn't you who sold out my parents to Voldemort?"
"No!" the sheer vehemence of that statement made the boy step back. The man's eyes shone with sincerity. "I would die for James and Lily! I would have never betrayed them!"
There was a long, pregnant pause.
"It was Pettigrew. We switched Secret Keepers at the last moment, all because I thought that it would be super cunning to make everyone think that I was the guy while in reality it was the little, unnoticeable Wormtail," Black took a deep breath. "No one knew that he was a Death Eater. We all were aware that a spy was amongst us, and we had even suspected Remus. He was prone to vanishing at odd times. But it was Peter all along."
"Wait," Harry raised a hand, though it still was invisible. "What proof do you have?"
A huge, explosive sigh was his answer.
"That's the bummer, Harry. I don't have anything apart from my word. Our court would never accept a Veritaserum testament. Did you know I wasn't even deemed worthy of a trial? They just chucked me into Azkaban without any questioning! I found Wormtail four days after that night. I... I admit, I've been had quite thoroughly. That backstabbing, conniving bastard shouted out to the street that I was the traitor, blew up half of it somehow, cut his finger off, transformed into a rat and ran for it into the sewers!"
"Wait. Transformed into a rat?" something was starting to click in Harry's head.
"How do you think we got our nicknames? We all became animagi in school to help Moony out with his furry problem. Ever seen a rat with a missing toe on its front paw?"
"Scabbers..."
"Your friend's pet. That's why I broke out of Azkaban – Fudge gave me his Daily Prophet when he's been in Azkaban for a tour. The Weasleys were on the front page. I would know that rat out of a thousand."
"Hm."
It makes sense, so far. But still, the proof...
"Last year, I went after him, but when I confronted that redhead, he said that the rat died. I say that he just pulled his favourite trick to run."
"Yes, it would explain it... Hang on. What would he be doing right now?"
"He's on the continent, last I heard. I lost the trail after a while. Moony's away talking to his contacts right now."
"Oh damn. I remember... Wouldn't it make sense for him to go and join his master? I had a dream in the beginning of this year. About a rat transforming into a man. 'Master, I've found you'," he quoted with widened eyes. Sirius swore again.
"Damn. Remus told me that the Dark Bastard isn't dead, but... It will make things harder. I just assumed that he will lie low for at least a decade."
"Indeed."
They spent a minute in silence.
"Harry, do you believe me?"
"Your story makes a lot of sense. Certainly more sense than the version that I was told. Plus my gut quite clearly tells me to trust you. Very well, I'll bite. Now, the hard part."
"Bailing me out?"
"Yes. I think this will be nearly as difficult as your previous jailbreak."
"Maybe yes, maybe no."
At the sound of that raspy voice Harry nearly jumped. He turned his head towards the corner that previously didn't contain anything. Now, it was occupied by an old, grizzled Auror.
"Professor. How long...?"
"I never left. You're good at sneaking lad, but you lack experience. No disguise is absolute, but you can come pretty close to it if you block magic emanating from your body as well as sound, smell and heat," Moody growled. Harry nodded, taking a mental note to look up spells that could mask magic and heat, but shook his head, focusing on the matter.
"Professor, you heard him. Do you think he lies?"
"He either tells the truth or he believes it to be true. You don't know what Azkaban does to people. He could have twisted his memories to take off the edge of dementor exposure."
"I didn't think of that. Is there any way to be sure?"
"Yes, there is. Swear it, Black."
"I, Sirius Orion Black, solemnly swear upon my life and magic that I neither betrayed the Potters to Voldemort nor killed Peter Pettigrew. So mote it be," his palms shined slightly with blue light, signifying the binding oath. Moody vanished the ropes and tossed Sirius his wand.
"Very well. It goes against all my principles, but here's what we're going to do..."
Harry quietly crept past the stunned forms of two Aurors, taking care to breathe through the mouth.
"You know, it's criminal to smell like that."
"You try living in the forest and on rats without any facilities for a bath."
"I'll pass on that, thanks."
Moody went first, covered in all kinds of charms that made detection virtually impossible. Harry and Sirius followed under the cloak.
The plan was to get to the closest exit to the roof, which was an almost unused door not very far. Unfortunately, they had to climb a lot of stairs, so Moody decided to let them go.
"You two, move. I'll go and raise the alarm. Don't get caught, Potter. If you do, well, you're a smart lad. Think of something."
"Oh, I know just the thing. You'll love it, I think. Hopefully, though, I won't have to resort to lying my arse off."
"Fine. Black, watch yourself. I'll talk to Dumbledore, expect him to get in touch," with this, Mad-Eye turned around and stumbled away in the general direction of his office.
Five minutes later, the escaped prisoner and his godson were standing on top of the castle. Sirius had Moody's spare broom in hand. The air was chilly, but nothing that a couple of warming charms couldn't handle. Still, Sirius would be flying, so for him it still would be rather freezing for a while until he got to the edge of the wards and could Apparate.
"What are you going to do now?"
"Get a bath. Then prepare a good reason for me to storm the damn castle so that Moony doesn't kill me."
"Write, OK?"
"Of course, kid, of course," he got silent for a bit. "Hey..."
"What?"
"Maybe... if worst comes to worst, and you've got nowhere to live, you can crash at my house. The Black manor is not the most pleasant place, but it's something. Plus, I intend to civilise it a bit. I think Moony gets tired of me living off him and occupying his couch. He can get really grumpy near the full moon."
Harry chuckled a bit.
"Sure. Maybe I'll take you up on that this summer. I just remembered that the Dursleys would be very, very angry with me when I return. Might pull a Padfoot and bail."
Sirius barked a laugh and hugged his godson.
"You stink, remember?" Harry reminded him, but returned the hug just as fiercely. As much as he was touched by the gesture, the boy still heard many steps from the open door. The man heard them as well and separated from him, throwing a last salute while mounting the broom.
"Take care, kid."
And so, he left, just as four Aurors burst onto the platform.
Harry immediately forced down both his nervousness and his slightly maniacal grin at what he was about to pull and adopted an emotionless front.
"What the hell? Is that Potter?"
"What are you doing, boy?" came a half-growl. Harry 'shook' himself out of stupor and immediately immersed himself in rage.
Emotion control exercises that he learned in his efforts to learn Patronus came very handy right then.
"THAT BASTARD!" Harry proceeded to repeat the phrase that he just picked up from said bastard, making the quartet of law enforcements to lower their wands, seeing that he was seemingly a victim here.
"Potter! What happened?" a female Auror interrupted another burst of expletives.
"That inbred, flea-ridden, cunt-headed pureblood son of a similarly pureblood mongrel whore went and put me under a fucking Imperius!"
Pandemonium followed.
Soon, he was in the Ministry, being interrogated by an expressionless worker while Madam Bones was ominously watching him from the door. Fortunately, Harry's Imperius defence actually worked as well as he projected. Malfoy and his ilk had long since created a legislative cushion when it came to that particular alibi so that no one could question them again. It also – surprise, surprise – came with an explicit veto to use Veritaserum on a subject that pleaded mind control, as the Imperius screwed with the sense of what is true and what is a lie. Very handy for the young wizard in question. In the end, he got off with a slap on his wrist – a couple of detentions for breaking in Moody's office. He didn't think that Madam Bones really bought the crap he was shovelling, but he still was not punished.
When he was leaving the Ministry that day, he was in seventh heaven, and couldn't help but curve his lips in a very smug grin. Even the revelation that Madam Bones reallyhadn't bought his story, and asked Susan to interrogate him didn't sour his mood. He didn't say it outright, but he did hint at what really happened. His girlfriend wasn't happy about what he did, but finally accepted that in this case, the Law wasn't upheld by the Ministry itself.
Harry's good spirits lasted for exactly two days. Then another article of Skeeter's came out. She somehow knew a suspicious lot about what happened that night, especially considering that the Ministry didn't talk about it at all.
The article was named "Jail Breaker Potter" and was every bit as bad as the title suggested. Skeeter seemingly decided that it was time to break out the big guns and really did a number. She told the readers the story that Harry came up with, but still bent it to make it seem that it was all him that 'unleashed the finally caught menace to society upon innocents'. The fact that he 'was' under Imperius was only vaguely noted in the text. Overall, it was something that got Harry's approval rating somewhere in the lower twenties. Susan did some work with Hufflepuffs, and Neville, Ron and Hermione did a lot of talking to Gryffindors, but they weren't always successful. The situation started resembling the 'Parselmouth Dark Lord' phase of the second year.
And it was barely even the beginning of March.
Still, Harry didn't let the angry stares and fearful whispers get to him. Finally, he was free from the influence of the masses, deeming them not worthy of his notice.
How? Easy.
He had a new project.
Status de energia semanal
-- Ranking de
Poder 
-- Pedra de
Poder