A Stranger in an Unholy Land

~~~~ Chapter II ~~~~

A Friend In Need is a Friend Indeed

Harry groggily opened his eyes. It took a lot of effort just to move his eyelids. He tried to sit up, but found he didn't have the energy. Looking round as best he could, he found that he was in a hospital of sorts. He was staring straight up at a large white light, which was beaming straight down on him. There were no windows in the room, just one long large mirror on one wall. Leaning over him was a woman Harry had never seen before. She looked coldly at him, then, after a quick movement of her hands, Harry felt a needle plunge into his arm.

It didn't hurt, but Harry felt himself become queasy. He hated needles, ever since his measles immunisation at school. They terrified him. Harry struggled not to be sick as he felt a coldness envelope his right arm. After a few seconds the needle was withdrawn and Harry unclenched his eyes. He looked around again and found that his vision was slightly blurred. This wasn't due to his lack of glasses, since he was wearing contact lenses and could see perfectly. His vision was hazy; he felt light headed and dizzy. He managed with great effort to sit up.

"Wat...water?" coughed Harry painfully. His throat was painfully dry. The woman handed him a small beaker, which he took and drank from. Feeling a little better but still disorientated, he placed it back on the table. He shook his head in an effort to drive away the dizziness. Looking down, his black robes and a seemingly endless supply of weapons had been removed and replaced by a pair of white trousers and nothing else. Harry was startled to find that his body had changed. Yesterday he had been scrawny and pale. Harry looked down to find that he had some muscle to him. He was by no means bulging, but he could see muscle beneath his skin rather than his ribs. He even had a six-pack, though he suspected that that was due to his skinniness rather than his muscle. He looked up at the woman who was again leaning over him. She looked about 25 years old, and had short blond hair tied up beneath her cap. She wore a white apron and was unmistakably a nurse.

"Where am I?" asked Harry. It came out as a croak; he seemed to have lost his voice.

"Don't you recognise it?" smirked the nurse coldly. She didn't look him in the eye, but kept on working.

"If I did, would I ask?" shot back Harry. Why does everyone have to patronise him all the time? Albeit, he preferred this to pointing and starring, but it was still annoying. He had asked a civil question, but she had to be sarcastic. He hadn't deserved it, had he?

"You're in the secure wing of St Mungo's," she informed him icily. "You are being checked over before your interrogation."

"Interrogation?" Harry repeated the word back. Why was he to be interrogated? He remembered that Aurors had brought him in, but surely they would remember who he was. Surely Dumbledore would sort it out. Harry knew he shouldn't take the Headmaster for granted, but he really hadn't done anything. Surely after the shenanigans last year, Fudge would give him the benefit of the doubt this time.

"I'm not allowed to talk to prisoners, so shut up!" spat the nurse. She seemed really angry with him, but he didn't know her from Adam. Had he offended her?

"Have I done something to offend you?" said Harry softly.

"Shut up!"

Harry sat on the side of his bed, his feet dangling over the edge, his head hung low. Whatever she had injected was making him very dizzy. Her bitter response washed off him as the room began to spin.

"What did you give me?" he asked, trying to shake off the dizziness.

"A sedative; we are not making the same mistakes twice." What mistakes? What last time?

"Why needles?" he asked at last. He had spent more than enough time in the Hospital wing at school but he had never seen a single needle. Not even at St Mungo's when he had gone to visit Mr Weasley. That was the beauty of magical medicine; no needles, no evasive surgery, no cutting people open.

"Since you're such a celebrity, I can't use a wand," sneered the nurse. "With a wand, you'd kill me before I could say Flobberworm. Still, a little dose of pain is no more than you deserve."

Harry looked up at her, and was about to object. It was then that he noticed a scalpel in her left hand. Harry reacted in the blink of an eye with force that took even himself by surprise. He kicked off the bed, took two steps and pivoted on the spot, coming to a stop behind the nurse. He grabbed her wrist, twisted and pulled the back of her neck downwards, with his thigh in the small of her back. She was bent over backwards over his left thigh; his left hand was locked around her wrist, which he had twisted behind her back. In his right he held the scalpel up to her throat.

"What are you doing to me?" he hissed.

"You have shrapnel in you arm," gasped the witch in terror. "Please, I have two daughters, please don't hut me, I was only trying to help. I was trying to remove it." Harry looked at his arm, which was indeed topped by a large cut, in which Harry could see pieces of metal. Where had he got that? He gently released her, raising her back to a standing position. He felt a little stupid and more than a little startled. He should never have attacked a nurse, but then again, how had he attacked her? He had moved faster than he knew he could with skill he never had. He had never learned judo or anything like that, but he had known exactly what to do. Had Voldemort taking control of him with Legimency? No, his scar wasn't stinging. Harry didn't know what had come over him.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "I thought you were going to stab me."

"Tempting, Potter." With that she picked up a small metal instrument and before Harry could react, he had a dart sticking into his stomach. She had shot him with a tranquilliser dart! The dart was about two inches long with a red tuft at the end. He wrenched it out of his stomach. He could see that the dart hollow and empty inside. Whatever drug or potion was in the dart was now flowing through his veins. Suddenly his limbs became very heavy. His legs felt weak and before he could say another word, he collapsed, bouncing off the corner of a table as he fell. Harry found himself lying on the floor, unable to move. Pain was throbbing through his ribs, which had bounced off the hard corner of the table as he had fallen.

Just then, the doors flew open and two figures came in, both in red robes.

"What happened?" asked one. "You hit the alarm!" Harry watched, unable to move as the Aurors advanced and drew wands.

"I'm fine," growled the witch angrily. "He could have killed me and you stroll in here nearly a minute late and ask what happened? Idiots!" The Aurors seemed to pale under her wrath and Harry would have smiled it he could.

"Shall we stun him again?" asked the Auror, pointing his wand at Harry's head.

"No," replied the nurse, much to Harry's relief. She took a syringe off the table and shoved it roughly into his buttock.

"Sorry about that, Mr Potter," she said coldly. "OK, maybe that was a lie. I enjoyed shooting you. I have just given you the antidote. You'll be fine, just a little dizzy. That's two lots of sedative and one simulative. You have a merry concoction inside you but it will do you no harm. You'll be able to move in a few seconds. Bear in mind that if you try anything, I'll shoot you again, and next time I won't give you the antidote."

"We'll just be outside," mumbled one of the Aurors, making for the door. They knew they were no longer needed. He had probably been looking forward to hexing Harry and was now making his way back to his port with his tail firmly between his legs.

They both turned and headed slowly towards the door. Before they got there, the door opened just a fraction and something small and grey rolled into the room. It was round and about two inches in diameter.

Harry looked down at it, he had never seen one before but somehow he knew what it was. Luckily he could move again.

"Get down!" he hissed, grabbing the nurse and pulling her down onto the ground. He tipped the bed over so that he and the nurse were hiding behind it. The Flash-Bang went off with enough force to send the two Aurors flying against the wall. The bed moved slightly as the force of the explosion hit it. Harry and the nurse remained unharmed, except for their ears. Harry's ears were ringing, whether from the drugs or from the explosion he didn't know. His hearing was faded. He squeezed his nose and blew out, hoping to pop his ears, but it made no difference. His hearing was still buggered up.

"Stay down," Harry hissed at the nurse, who was clearly too terrified to do anything else. Harry slowly raised his head enough to see over the fallen bed. He saw two figures in red robes sprawled out in the corner. They were moving but only just. Harry could see a trail of blood oozing out of their ears. They were rolling in agony on the floor. The room was filled with smoke and debris. The glass of the cabinets, phials, bottles, and lamps had been shattered by the explosion. Glass, plastic and other rubble was strewn across the room. Harry coughed as the smoke entered his lungs. He saw four silhouettes enter the room and move silently over to the bodies. His ears were still ringing from the explosion and he couldn't hear what was going on, just the whimpering of the nurse, who was clinging to his arm.

To his horror he saw two flashes of green light and instantly ducked down behind the bed.

"Oh Merlin!" stammered the nurse. She was hysterical. She was speaking loudly, more than enough to attract the intruders. "They killed them, they killed them!" she repeated hysterically. Tears were running down her cheeks and she was breathing very quickly.

"SHHHHH!" hissed Harry. If the intruders heard them, which he was afraid they already had, they would be dead.

"Potter?" called a voice. Damn! They had heard them.

"Stay here!" he whispered to the nurse, with a kind smile. "It'll be alright."

"POTTER!" called the intruder.

Harry stood slowly. The men were a few feet behind the bed. Harry raised his hands and slowly walked around the side of the bed. He kept his hands clearly visible, hoping that they wouldn't curse him without cause. They had just killed two Aurors; they were murderers if not Death Eaters.

"I'm here," said Harry softly, as he moved closer to them. Both of them exchanged a look and then lowered their wands. Harry could now see them, through the dust. Each of them was wearing brightly coloured robes. The first was wearing blue robes, the second wore purple, number three wore yellow and number four wore green. Were they in disguise? Harry found their appearance quite amusing, but he didn't want to laugh and start a firefight when he was unarmed. They lowered their wands as he approached, which confused Harry even more.

"Sir, we have to leave now!" said Mr Blue firmly. Harry dubbed them the colours of their robes. Mr Blue rolled up his sleeve, exposing the Dark Mark. "We've come to set you free."

"You're Death Eaters! Is this Voldemort's sick joke?" spat Harry. Had Voldemort tricked Fudge into thinking he was a Death Eater? Was this his sick joke? "Did he set me up?"

"What the hell do you mean?" said Mr Purple, before his eyes grew wide with terror. "Apologies, Sir, forgive my rudeness. I beg your pardon."

"Was this all Voldemort's idea? Making me think they're alive? Making people think I'm a Death Eater, bloody hilarious!" snapped Harry his voice oozing with sarcasm. Only he would do that. Had he got someone who looked like Frank Longbottom to tease him? Was he trying to break Harry enough for him to despair and kill himself?

"What have they done to you, sir?" asked Mr Green. He looked genuinely concerned. His eyes shot to Harry's scar and the bleeding wound on his shoulder. He was also sporting a black eye, courtesy of whoever was pretending to be Frank Longbottom. Just then, the nurse chose to raise her head and look over the bed. She couldn't have picked a worse time. The Death Eaters saw her instantly.

"The nurse is still alive," said Mr Purple, with an evil grin. "Shall I finish her or would you like to, sir?"

"Finish her?" repeated Harry. He didn't understand the question.

"Yes, sir!" grinned Mr Purple, pointing his wand at the nurse. "Sorry, love! AVADA-"

"NO!"

Harry reacted in an instant. He grabbed Mr Purple's wrist and pushed it aside, causing the curse to miss and strike a model skeleton in the corner, which exploded into a million pieces, scattering even more debris around the room. He brought his knee up into Mr Purple's stomach and, from there, he extended it to kick Mr Yellow in the chest. As Mr Yellow was knocked off his feet, Harry brought the palm of his hand up hard into Mr Purple's nose. Harry felt the bone break and the flow of blood over his hands. Mr Purple collapsed in a bloody heap on the ground. Harry withdrew Mr Purple's wand from his holster as he fell.

Mr Green's arm grabbed hold of Harry who instantly pivoted on his foot and pushed Mr Green's wand arm aside. Harry fired a stunner into the man's chest point-blanc and before Mr Green could even fall, delivered a spinning kick to the man's chest. His body slid away across the polished floor of the ward. Mr Blue stood in shock as Harry knocked three of his comrades to the ground in less than a second.

Harry turned to face Mr Blue, but as he did so, he noticed Mr Yellow, still lying on the ground gasping for breath, raise his wand. Harry ducked Mr Yellow's curse, which struck Mr Blue in the face, killing him instantly. Harry kicked the wand out of Mr Yellow's arm, just as Mr Yellow's foot hit the back of his knee. Harry fell forwards, losing the grip on his stolen wand as he fell. Both he and Mr Yellow were back on their feet in a split second.

"What the hell, sir?" spat Mr Yellow. His eyes widened with comprehension. "You're not Potter! This is a trap! I'm gonna gut you like a fish, Auror!"

He produced a Commando knife from one pocket and lunged at Harry. Harry instinctively spun out of the way, avoiding the blade by millimetres. He brought his knee up into the man's stomach as he passed. Harry spun on the spot and delivered a spinning kick to Mr Yellow, sending him crashing into the wall, two feet away. Mr Yellow recovered quickly. He grabbed his wand and sent a curse zooming towards Harry. Harry dived out of the way, sliding along the polished floor. He could feel debris scraping painfully against his skin as he slid along the floor on his bare stomach. He grabbed a discarded wand and fired a stunner at Mr Yellow. The spell hit him in the stomach and he collapsed in a heap.

Harry stood up and surveyed the damage. Mr Purple was lying in a bloody heap on the floor. Next to him, two other Death Eaters had been stunned, and Mr Blue had been killed by Mr Yellow. Harry didn't have a scratch on him that he didn't already have to begin with. He had never studied martial arts, and certainly didn't know how to fight a man with a knife. When he had grabbed the wand, his first though was to use the killing curse; it had taken a lot of self-control to use a stunner. Harry shouldn't have been able to do any of this, but somehow he had. He didn't know what came over him. It was as if instinct took over, as if he had no control over his actions at the time. What has happened to me?

"You can come out now," he called to the nurse.

He knelt next to the bloody form of Mr Purple, who was now lying in a pool of blood. He looked dreadfully pale. Harry placed two fingers against his neck. Harry's heart skipped a beat as he realised the full extent of what he had done. Mr Purple was dead. Harry had certainly never meant to kill anyone, but he had. The moves came to him, like the walking to the common room. He could do it without consciously thinking about it. He could just let his feet take him; that was how he had felt during the fight. He had defeated four Death Eaters in seconds without a wand to begin with, and without a scratch. He couldn't take his eyes of the corpse of Mr Purple. Harry had taken a life, but he felt no guilt, no remorse or pity. He felt nothing.

Harry remembered how he felt after Sirius and Cedric had died, but now he felt nothing. It's just shock, reasoned Harry. When the adrenalin wears off, I'll feel guilty. Harry found himself wishing he were hurting, wishing that guilt would appear. He should feel something; after all he was now a murderer.

"D...D...Don't M...M...Move!" stuttered a terrified voice, behind him. The nurse was standing behind the bed. She had her wand out, or rather one she had picked up, and was aiming it nervously at him. Her whole body was shaking, and she was hyperventilating. Harry dropped the wand he was holding and put his arms up.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he said kindly. The nurse was shaking uncontrollably now. Harry took a few paces closer. He felt instinct begin to take hold. He willed himself to stay calm. He must not strike or hurt her. He could feel the desire to attack, but quickly quashed it.

"D...Don't come any c....closer!" she stammered. "I me...mean it!"

Harry took another few paces until he was three inches from the tip of the wand.

"It's OK," he tried to sooth her. She took a step backward. Harry instantly, but gently pushed the wand aside, and as the nurse collapsed he caught her, letting her come to rest gently on the floor. She was still conscious, but completely panic stricken. She was going into shock.

"Look at me," instructed Harry. "Stay with me, nurse, look at me. It's over now, calm down." Harry had to help her. Enough people had died for one day. He needed help. "Now, is there an alarm button around here?" She nodded slightly, though her breathing became faster and more erratic. Harry saw her hand rise and point to box on the wall. Harry walked over and pressed it.

He picked up the pillow from the bed that had saved them, as he returned to the nurse, and placed it gently under her head. He didn't know the first thing about First Aid, and was at a loss of what to do.

"Nurse," he said softly. "What is your name?"

"Claire," she gasped through her rapid breaths.

"Well, Claire," he said kindly. "I think you're just in shock. Calm down, it's over now; no one is going to hurt you. I need you to stay awake, stay with me, Claire. Talk to me." Her breathing became even more frantic.

"Tell me about yourself, Claire, so I know you're still awake."

"Nice try P...Potter!" she gasped. She was wheezing at a very fast rate and was coughing at the same time. Harry suddenly remembered that he had seen something like this before at school.

"Are you asthmatic? Do you need an inhaler?" he asked her. She nodded frantically and pointed to a bag on the side. Harry rushed over to the bag and pulled out a blue inhaler. He knelt by the nurse and gently held it to her mouth. Harry had seen them used at his old school so he knew roughly what to do. He pushed the silver cylinder down and Claire breathed sharply in. She began to go red as she held her breath and then after a few second released it. Harry felt really lucky that he had never suffered from Asthma. It was a horrible condition.

"Again?" asked Harry. She nodded and he held it to her mouth. After another dose, her breathing began to slow down to a normal rate. "Are you alright?" he asked her softly. "Sorry about the delay, I though you were just in shock. Now you know why I have no intention of being a healer." He tried to jest but Claire wasn't smiling. Harry offered a hand. She gingerly took it and he pulled her into a sitting position. Harry was still kneeling beside her.

"You killed them!" she stammered, having recovered her breath. The words hit Harry hard. I killed them! He was a murderer; he was no better than Voldemort.

"I didn't mean to, I just..." began Harry. He couldn't justify it. He had taken life; there was no justifying murder. It was as simple as that.

"That's not what I mean. They came for you, to release you, and you killed them."

"They were Death Eaters," said Harry softly. It didn't justify killing, but it was true.

"But you're..." she began. Her eyes showed a combination of shock and puzzlement.

"What am I?" asked Harry. What did everyone think he was?

"You're..." She never got to finish the sentence.

"POTTER!" shouted a voice. "BACK UP. HANDS ON YOUR HEAD, ON YOUR KNEES." Harry turned to see several Aurors in the doorway. Obediently, Harry stood, took a few paces backwards and then sank to his knees, placing his hands on his head.

Two Aurors rushed forwards and roughly grabbed the nurse, hauling her to her feet and bundling her out of the room. The remaining four had their wands aimed at Harry. One walked over to the six bodies in the corner, two of which were Aurors, four were Death Eaters. Harry watched, bracing himself for the inevitable. He saw the Auror's face turn from caution to shock to disgust to anger.

"Merlin!" he breathed as he saw the bodies. "Stun that piece of..."

Harry never heard what he was a piece of; a stunner hit him square in his bare chest. Everything faded to blackness. He was unconscious before he hit the floor.

~~~~ + ~~~~

"A little bit of pepper," sang James Potter as he added pinch of ground white pepper to the saucepan. His own recipe for Salmon a la Banana smelt interesting to say the least. "A little bit of..." He was interrupted from his moment of culinary genius by a loud banging on the door. Bugger! thought James. He didn't want his latest culinary invention to burn. He placed the saucepan on a heatproof mat to one side and closed the lid of the AGA. If this is a salesman, I'll hex him from here to kingdom come, thought James bitterly.

"JAMES!" called a voice. "JAMES? PRONGS? JIMBO, ARE YOU IN THERE? LIL? LILY? JAMES? OPEN UP!"

"I'll get it!" came a voice, as Rosie Potter came bounding down the stairs three at time. She could be so gentle and sweet at sometimes, and then at others like a herd of Hippogriffs. She undid the latch and opened the front door, to reveal a very worried looking Sirius Black. "Sirius!" she cried, throwing her arms around her beloved Godfather. Sirius would normally grab her and tickle her, laughing manically all the while, but today he didn't even move. He stood rigid, looking very pale as his Goddaughter hugged him. He didn't even say a word.

"Paddy," called James entering the hall, completely forgetting that he was wearing his wife's flowery apron and holding a bottle of Tabasco. Sirius, for the first time in living memory, ignored a chance to take the piss and stood staring at James. "To what do I owe the pleasure of you banging on my door like the Salvation Army drum?" Sirius didn't even answer, he just swept past Rose and before James could move swept him into a huge hug.

"I thought you were dead!" he sighed. That was the last thing that James had expected and he didn't know quite how to react.

"Dead?" he echoed, in confusion.

"We got him, James," said Sirius softly. He looked as pale as death. He wasn't smiling and James couldn't remember seeing Sirius this serious since the time Rosie went missing. Luckily she had merely missed the bus and was walking home, but she had still scared them all half to death. Lily had been going spare and had nearly choked her daughter to death with the hug she had given her when she had finally returned. James had secretly been impressed that a seven-year-old had managed to walk eight miles on her own. "We got Harry," continued Sirius. James' heart leapt. He hadn't seen his eldest son for two years, not since...he found the memory to painful to even think about. "He said you were dead. I heard from Frank a few hours ago. He said you'd been murdered!" James was lost for words, and that was saying something since he was famous for having the biggest mouth in the Auror division.

"You caught Harry?" came a voice. Sirius let go of his best friend as Lily Potter came into the room. Her red hair was flowing behind her as he walked. Her normally glowing eyes were shone with tears; her face was paler than usual. Her hands were clasped to her mouth and she was on the verge of tears. The very mention of his name always brought Lily to the verge of tears if not into a full-on fit. She had taken his defection harder than anyone. She believed it was all her fault, her failing as a mother. James saw hope fluttering in his beautiful wife's eyes. Her tears melted his heart. He gently embraced her, wrapping his arms around her protectively. He felt a pang of anger at his son for causing this, but quickly washed it away. He loved Harry and always would; he just hoped it didn't hurt Lily so much. James loved her as much now as he had when they had gotten married and seeing her in tears hurt him.

"Last night," said Sirius softly, looking from Lily to James and then back again. "Frank caught him somewhere in Devon. He's at St Mungo's."

"Is he OK?" gasped Lily. "Those butchers! What have they done to him?"

"He is being checked over, he had sustained minor injuries, to quote Frank." Lily sat down and burst into tears. James felt another pang of anger, this time directed at Frank Longbottom. He had a violent streak that James was all too aware of. Ever since his pregnant wife had been murdered, no, before that, since his son, Neville, had been tortured to insanity, he had had violent impulses. He used to be such a nice man. Warm, friendly and a good laugh, but the loss of everything he held dear, allegedly at Harry's hands, had turned him into a cold vicious predator. These days, he was altogether, a nasty piece of work. James had had to forcefully tear him from a suspect they had arrested. The suspect had never looked the same again. What had Frank done to his son and what did he define minor injuries as being. If he has hurt Harry... thought James viciously.

Harry's betrayal had affected Lily badly. The very mention of his name was enough to send her into tears. She had had such plans for her firstborn son; they both had. He was supposed to grow up and be an Auror, a Quidditch player (that had been mainly James and Sirius' idea, rather than Lily's), and an Order member. But, no, he had thrown it all down the drain and thrown in his lot with Voldemort. Lily believed that it was her fault; her failure as a mother caused Harry to seek a different family, one he found with Voldemort. Every time his name appeared in the Prophet, every time it listed those he had killed and tortured, she felt the guilt pile up on her shoulders.

"Mum?" whispered Rose. Rose-Marie Potter was ten months younger than Harry. She would be taking her OWLs this year. She looked very much like her brother, in some ways, and very much like her mother in others. Her face was almost a carbon copy of Lily's at that age, except for the freckles; her eyes were deep emerald, just like her mother and her brother. Her hair was jet black like her father and her brother. She was not especially short, nor very tall. She was about average for her age. James realised that both his children looked rather alike and both had their mother's eyes. He though that the next baby, should they elect to have one, should have red hair and his hazel eyes. He wasn't jealous, or disappointed. He loved them both to death, but he felt like a change was called for. They weren't planning to have another baby. Both he and Lily agreed that two was plenty. Harry had adored Rose and vice versa; until his betrayal before his fourth year, he and his sister had been inseparable. Then it had all changed. Rose was absolutely beautiful, if Lily did say so herself, and she frequently did. She was at the age when boys were becoming of interest. Lily knew this and remembered what it had felt like hen she was that age. She often discussed it with James. However, fear of loosing Rose the way she lost Harry had made her overly protective. Lily taught Potions at Hogwarts, and as such lived in the castle and was in a position to see her daughter every day. She tried to be impartial, but loved her too much to really punish her. Thankfully, Rose wasn't stupid enough to take advantage of this. She had inherited her mother's sense of level-headedness and ability to stick to the rules, more or less. She had also inherited her temperament, which had got her into trouble on occasions. She had also inherited her father's passion for flying and resourcefulness. James liked to think, not that he'd tell Lily, that Rose had inherited his cunning and his mischievous nature. He was either wrong or she was such a good marauder that she had never been caught. Either way, James was proud of her.

"Mum?" whispered Rosie again, putting her arm around her weeping mother. James also went to his weeping wife, laying a hand gently on her shoulder.

"If only your brother was as perfect as you," sobbed Lily, trying to smile. She looked up at Sirius. "I want to see him."

"Lily, I don't think..." began Sirius.

"I WANT TO SEE MY SON!" screamed Lily, causing everyone to jump back in fright. She hadn't lost any of her temperament and Rose was showing signs of having inherited it. Apparently at the end of last year, when Snivellus had stopped by Lily's office after class to drop off some ingredients for her, he had gotten into an argument with her. Rose had walked in halfway through and come to her mother's defence, given old Snivvy a piece of her mind. James didn't know if it was true and Lily refused to talk about it, but James would have loved to have seen it. It would have made his year. Unfortunately he was out on call as an Auror. Rose was normally a quiet, sweet, kind girl, but she had a temper, just like her mother and James pitied anyone who crossed her. He knew from experience that crossing Lily Evans meant personal injury was imminent. Rosie was not naturally violent. She wasn't aggressive, spiteful or hostile. It took a lot to get her hackles raised, but once they were...stand aside ye who wishes to live!

"Rosie," said James softly. "Do you want to Floo to the Burrow and stay with Ginny?"

"Is that a question or a command?" she asked, showing that she really was her mother's daughter. James couldn't help but smile. Her emerald green eyes, the same ones he had fallen in love with all those years ago, sparkled as she looked up expectantly at her father.

"Your mother and I have to go to the Ministry," he said softly.

"Excellent," she said firmly. "I'm coming too."

"Rosie," said Lily. "This isn't going to be..."

"Harry is my brother as well as your son. I have as much right to see him as you do!" That put Lily in her place. Both parents smiled at the stubborn look on their daughter's face. Both wondered who she had inherited her stubbornness from. Both James and Lily had it by the bucket-load.

"She could come, James," said Sirius softly. He absolutely adored Rosie and when Lily wasn't looking would spoil her rotten. "He is contained, she wouldn't be in any danger."

"Sirius!" hissed James. He knew she was desperate to see her long-lost brother, but James refused to put her in harm's way, no matter how hurt she looked or how long she gave him the Andrex-Puppy eyes. "They say he's mad. He's apparently been planning to kill us all for two years!"

"Apparently, being the operative word," retorted Sirius.

"What are you trying to say?" James hated it when Sirius tried to sound wise. It didn't suit him. He also hated it when people spoke in riddles, which meant he found talks with Dumbledore annoying.

"All I'm saying is, we don't know what state he's in. Last I heard he had stunned four Death Eaters to protect a nurse he had only just met."

"So he is off his rocker?" asked James. Either that or it's love at first sight.

"I don't know, but you know how we restrain prisoners. He's in a class-three detention cell. Class-three, James. Complete barriers, one metre seclusion zone around the shield, no magic can be performed inside, no matter can pass through the shield. He can't touch her, James."

"Very well," he sighed.

"Rosie," he called to his daughter, who was mouthing 'Thank You' to her Godfather. "Get changed and be ready to leave as soon as you can."

The young Gryffindor darted away up the stairs and could be heard clattering around upstairs. James watched her go before turning back to his best friend and best man.

"What happened, Padfoot?" asked James. He released Lily, who had stopped sobbing and was now wiping her eyes. James went back into the kitchen and put the kettle on. They all needed a cup of tea right now.

"Frank couldn't say much, classified information and all that," said Sirius bitterly. He was another who didn't think much of Frank Longbottom. "All he could say was that they were on a raid in Devon. Only a handful of people know Harry is in custody. It hasn't been released to the press until we can confirm it's him. Apparently he was wandering around in a field. The odd thing was that when they put the body bind on him, he didn't put up a fight and he seemed to have no clue as to what was going on."

"Meaning what?" James was completely confused by that last statement. From what he read in the Prophet, his eldest son was a psychopath. How could he possibly not know what was going on? He had allegedly killed a nun, just for her cloak so he could escape from Aurors. Now he refused to put up a fight? What was going on?

"He kept saying that Frank was in St Mungo's and that you were dead. He said you'd been murdered by Voldemort fifteen years ago."

"He's insane?" James' heart sank. What had Voldemort done to him? He heard Lily start sobbing again. He quickly moved to her, pulling her to him. He felt her head resting lightly on his chest as she wept into his robes. It can't be true. Harry isn't insane! "It's OK, Lil," he whispered soothingly. If only he could truly believe it himself.

"We don't know yet," said Sirius slowly. "The interrogation...sorry, Lily," Padfoot corrected himself as he realised his mistake. "Questioning hasn't begun yet."

"READY!" called Rose coming back into the room. She was wearing her Hogwarts cloak over a pair of black jeans and a blue and white crop-top. Before anyone moved, she had already grabbed the pot of Floo powder from the mantelpiece. "Coming?" she asked.

~~~~ + ~~~~

"ENERVATE!"

Harry could feel consciousness slipping back over him. He was aware of the cool breeze flowing over him and the bright lights around him. He realised he was lying on his back, on something soft-ish. He opened his eyes, but instantly shut them as he was staring at a huge white light. He groaned softly and covered his eyes with his hands. Harry rolled onto his side and opened them again. Looking around, he saw that he was lying on a small bed in the middle of a large room. A circular section of the floor, measuring about four metres in diameter, was raised from the rest of the ground by six inches. Inside this circle was a bed, a small table and chair and a small screened off area that Harry assumed housed a toilet. The furniture was all chipped and didn't look very clean. The around the circumference of the circle was a blue wall of energy. It stretched from the floor up to the ceiling, ten metres above him. The room around him was huge and dark. The ceiling within the shield was one giant white light. The rest of the room was darkness. It looked like a warehouse. It smelt damp and Harry felt cold.

"HELLO?" called Harry. He heard his word echo and realised just how big the room was and how small his space was. He suddenly felt very claustrophobic. Harry had never seen a room like this, but he knew it was a cell. What else could it be? His limbs ached and he felt disorientated once again. Since his encounter with Voldemort, he was always feeling groggy. As soon as he was starting to feel better, someone stunned him or pumped him full of sedatives. As he sat up, memories started flooding back of exactly why he had been stunned.

Harry had been right; the guilt would come later. He did feel guilty about killing that man. That man may have had a family who are now grieving like he had been for Sirius, all because of Harry. Harry wiped his face with his hands, trying to wipe the sleepiness from his head. He yawned and then sighed.

Harry stood up, and immediately fell back down. He tried again, steadying himself against the headboard of the bed. His legs felt wobbly and week, but he managed to stay standing. There was a chill in the air and dampness all around, but not enough to cause Harry to shiver. He felt uncomfortable but not enough to merit complaining about. He also noticed he was wearing blue trousers and a blue shirt. His sleeves were rolled up and the top button was undone. Across the front of the shirt was written a number.

DF54417

His prisoner number. The full impact of his situation hit him all at once. He was locked up and he didn't even know what for. He couldn't remember what he had been arrested for. Was it for using an unforgivable on Bellatrix? She had deserved it after all. Surely under the circumstances... Harry suddenly realised that no one could help him. He had used that curse and it was his decision. Not even Dumbledore could overrule the Minister of Magic. Harry stood still for a few seconds, trying to get his balance. His ears were ringing and his limbs ached. This was not as easy as it appeared. After a few seconds he walked up to the barrier. It was translucent blue and Harry could feel it pulsing with energy. He had to be sure. He reached out with a hand and touched the barrier. He instantly withdrew his hand in pain. He had received what felt like an electric shock, but one that hurt a good deal more than that.

"Like your new home?" came a cold voice.

"Who's there?" asked Harry. He shielded his eyes from the light above and squinted into the darkness. The light in the barrier was very bright and the darkness around it did not permit Harry to see very well. He could make out a figure moving in the gloom. Footsteps echoed around the room. Harry looked carefully around the room. It was huge with a small steel door on one side. Along one wall was a long mirror, which Harry was sure was one-way glass. Why was he always being watched?

"Who's there?" repeated Harry. The figure moved closer to Harry and into the light. As the figure stood before the barrier, the light illuminating his face, Harry's jaw dropped in shock.

"You!" stammered Harry. "You're dead!"

"You only wish I was," sneered Crouch. Bartemius Crouch, whom Harry had last seen in the forest in his fourth year before he had been murdered by his own son, was standing before him. If Harry remembered correctly, he had been killed. His son had then transfigured his body into a bone and buried it. Yet here he stood, glaring at Harry like he was an insect. The disgusted stare that he had worn in Dumbledore's Penseive was plastered all over his face.

"I was there," stuttered Harry. "Two years ago, you escaped your house and I found you wandering in the forest. The fake Moody impostor killed you!"

"Enough of this drivel, Potter!" barked Crouch. "I'll ask the questions!" His shout echoed off the walls. Harry stood frozen in shock; he couldn't be alive. It wasn't possible. You can't raise the dead!

"You're not Crouch!" said Harry firmly. He had to be right. He had seen Crouch before his death. His son had confessed to the murder under the influence of Veritaserum. Then who was this, standing here? This had to be a trick, probably a Death Eater trick. "You're an impostor. You're a Death Eater!"

"How dare you imply that I am a Death Eater!" barked Crouch. "My family have nothing to do with the Dark Arts." He was doing a good impression. He was just as arrogant as Harry had seen him at the Quidditch World Cup.

"Bollocks," said Harry. "Your son was a Death Eater before the Dementors got him!" That did it! Something snapped in the Minister.

"HOW DARE YOU!" bellowed Crouch.

"How dare I?" spat Harry, he felt his anger boil but was far from caring. This was a trick, a sick one at that and he was not going to play along. His anger was getting the better of him, but he was too upset to be able to calm himself. "You're the impostor here. You're the one who's playing a sick joke. Ha ha, very funny, joke's over. Let me out of here and we can go home."

"Look, you wise arse," snarled Crouch. "Here's how it works. I ask you questions, you answer them and if you answer truthfully you may only get a life sentence rather than the kiss, if I'm in a good mood!"

"You were killed," snarled Harry just as aggressively. "I will not be interrogated by an impostor. What kind of idiot picks a dead man for his disguise? Did you forget I was there? If you want to talk to me, you do so as yourself. Once the Polyjuice potion wears off, come back and see me. Until then, make like a tree!"

~~~~ + ~~~~

Lily watched, hanky in hand, while her son and the Minister of Magic exchanged insults. Seeing Harry asleep on that tiny bed had melted her heart. For a second she had hoped he was innocent, that he would come back and be her baby boy again, but once he was awake, the anger and the confusion was so obvious. He was either trying to play with Crouch's mind, or was completely barmy. Lily hated Crouch. In her opinion he was stuck up, obnoxious and arrogant. He looked at her like she was sub-human, all because her blood wasn't pure. She had felt a glimmer of satisfaction that Crouch had become so enraged, but the anger that Harry displayed had really shaken her up. The room in which she was standing was small and dark. It was cold and plain. Along one wall was a large, long window, which opened up to Harry's cell. To him it would appear as a mirror, but she could see him. He was locked in small circular cell, surrounded by a magical carrier in the middle of a huge room. It was cold, dirty, and damp. There was a small table in the corner of the observation room on which a glowing orb was recording all sounds made in the cell and what looked like a telescope was recording everything like a video camera. There was a small door at one end. Lily was most annoyed that there was nowhere to sit. She, Rosie and James had been force to stand. James had an arm around her, while Rosie was standing a few inches to her right. None of them spoke as they watched Harry wind up Crouch. Seeing him alive rekindled the motherly fire in Lily's heart. She wanted to barge in there and hold him. To hold her son in her arms once more had been Lily's deepest desire for two years. She had to know, know what she had done to him to cause him to run away. Why? Did he resent her for her blood? Did he hate her because his childhood hadn't been happy?

She felt a hand take hold of her. Rosie put an arm around her mother, and Lily smiled down at her. She tried to show that she was coping, but it was painfully clear from the look in Rosie's emerald eyes that she could see through her mother's charade. Just then the door flew open and Crouch strode in, face red and fuming. Lily was surprised steam was not coming out of his ears.

"Son of a..."

"Thank you!" James cut him off with a growl. "Call Lily a bitch and I'll hex you into tomorrow." He glared at Crouch who returned the gesture. James' dislike for the minister was well known to her; he mentioned it at least three times a day. Her husband worked for the man and would follow orders, but he hated Crouch and that was no secret. She remembered the first time she had visited him at the office. Crouch had come in, and when James had introduced her, Crouch had pointed out her blood and James' temper had flared.

"With all due respect, sir," sneered James, with a tone that sacred Lily a little. She had only seen him that furious once and that was when Snape had almost raised a hand to Rosie. Lily had had to cast the Impediment Charm on both him and Harry to stop them attacking the greasy git. "Piss off. Lily may have Muggle blood, but she is still ten times the wizard you are!"

"Don't be insubordinate, Potter!" snapped Crouch. "You work for me, remember!"

"I remember," sneered James. "I may not like you, but I work for you. I will follow your orders, but that doesn't mean I have to do it with a smile on my face, unless of course, you order me to smile, sir!" Lily like the way he added the sir onto the end. It made it seem a classier insult.

"Shut up, Potter," spat Crouch, his anger still flowing through him. Crouch's words brought Lily out of memory lane. "If you two had done a proper job raising the little shite, we wouldn't be in this mess."

Lily's own temper flared and she moved to hit Crouch, but Rosie got there first, delivering not a slap, but a firm punch to the Minister's right cheek. Crouch staggered back in shock. A red blotch appeared on his cheek where Rose had his him. Rose stepped back and glared at the flabbergasted minister of magic. If he dared set Aurors on her, Lily would hex him into tomorrow!

"Don't you ever talk about my mum like that!" spat Rosie.

Crouch stood gaping for a few seconds. Lily was immensely proud of her daughter at this moment in time. Normally she didn't condone violence, but at this point it was definitely called for. She loved her daughter more than ever at this point.

"Minister," said Lily silkily. "That didn't do so well. May I have a word with him?" Please, thought Lily. Let me see my son!

"And what good could you do?" asked Crouch with a glare. He climbed back to his feet. Rosie had damaged his pride and he valued that more than life. He would never forgive her and the chances of getting him to agree were remote but maternal instinct was driving Lily crazy. She wanted her son back in her arms, where he belonged.

"I'm his mother," said Lily firmly. "I stand a better chance of getting him to open up than you do." Lily knew that Harry had said he wouldn't talk to a dead man and that he thought she was dead, but she didn't care. She wanted to see her son and that was that. Please! she thought.

"He thinks you're all dead," sneered Fudge, glaring at her. "He won't speak to a dead person. What makes you think you could do better than I?"

"Who are you?" asked a voice. Lily turned to her husband to ask who he was talking to, but soon realised it had not been him who had spoken. It had been Harry. Looking through the window, Lily saw whom he was talking to. Rose was indeed a Marauder at heart. While Lily and Crouch had been arguing, Rose had slipped past them and gone on her own into Harry's cell.

~~~~ + ~~~~

Crouch is dead! I saw it! Harry knew he was right. Whoever these people were, they were not real. Nothing can raise the dead. Dumbledore had told him that. Dumbledore! He would end this ridiculous charade! Harry just had to find Dumbledore and everything would be OK. Harry felt hope bubble up inside of him. Dumbledore would sort him out. He always did. He had to talk to Dumbledore, to explain why he used the curse on Bellatrix. Dumbledore would get him out; he had to. Harry was the one in the Prophecy and if he wanted Voldemort dealt with, he would need Harry to stay out of Azkaban. But there was so much else going on and none of it made sense.

Ok, thought Harry. Let's think. He clearly remembered being on the farm, sunbathing by the stream and being interrupted by Voldemort. No! He had been interrupted by the whistling. What was all that about? Voldemort had appeared a few seconds later. Was the whistling him coming through the wards? But then, why did the whistling return when the killing curse hit the shield and the sword began to glow? So many questions, thought Harry. Where are my answers? The whistling had come first, and it scared the sheep as well. Then Tom and Dumbledore had appeared. Harry knew that the chalk circle and Gryffindor's sword had saved him and that was what he must research. Dumbledore mentioned the ancient conflicts between Gryffindor and Slytherin. Again, that meant more time in the library. Ok, supposing the sword saved me from Tom's killing curse, what happened next? White light, pain, whistling and then...I must have passed out. He could remember, hitting the soft mud of a field, and then catching a glimpse of the sword before passing out. He tried to remember every detail about what had happened when he woke up. He was in a field, but not the same field. There were woods nearby and the fences were barbed wire. There were horses and no sheep, but the lie of the land had looked similar. What am I talking about, thought Harry. It was a field, a large area of grass; they all look the same. Of course the lie of the land would look similar. So maybe the sword transported me to another place to save me. But then why is everyone acting so strange. Why did everyone think he was a Death Eater? Harry would get to that in, time. He tried to remember what had happened next. He had been woken by the horse, and he had been somewhere else. He had then...his clothes had changed. He was armed to the teeth and his clothes had changed. He was wearing armour of all things. Dragon-scale armour. The sword, the stun-baton, the ... hang on. How did he know what it was called? The name had just popped into his mind, He had never seen or heard of a Stun-Baton, but the name had just popped into his mind. Two wands, he had had two wands. One was his, with the core of Fawkes' Tail feather. The other was a mystery. So if the sword had moved him, that didn't explain his clothes, or the behaviour of the Death Eaters or the Aurors. The Nurse that morning had been terrified of him. But why? Everyone knew who he was; they all knew he had defeated Voldemort once. Why was everyone suddenly so scared and the Death Eaters so...nice. They weren't themselves, thought Harry. Perhaps they were under the Imperius Curse. Maybe someone had framed him. Made people think he was a murderer. But that didn't explain his change of clothes, nor how Mr Crouch could still be alive. Neither did the Imperius Curse. If someone was controlling the Aurors, the Nurse, the Death Eaters, the ... that's a lot of curses. And to what end? That might explain the behaviour of the Death Eaters and the Aurors, but not how Crouch was still breathing. Polyjuice Potion! Crouch wasn't real. This was all a trick. They were Death Eaters. After he disappeared they must have found him and swapped his clothes. Then they play out the scene in St Mungos to confuse him and then the interrogate him to find out about the Order. It sounded a little too far-fetched and it would take time and a lot of resources. There were easier ways to find out about the Order. None of it made sense. As soon as Harry thought he had worked out part of the problem, a flaw appeared in his theory. A control curse and Polyjuice potion was his best theory, but I had more holes than Swiss cheese. Truth was that Harry didn't have a clue what has going on.

"Harry?" a voice called softly. Harry's head sprang up and he found himself face to face with a girl he had never seen before. He caught a glimpse of her flowing black hair as she approached the light. For a second he thought it was Bellatrix but realised he was mistaken. She was far too young and looked pleasant enough. The girl stepped closer, the light became more intense as she neared him, and Harry could see her features more clearly. What he saw shocked him.

"Who are you?" asked Harry, in surprise. He saw a resemblance but it wasn't possible. Anyway, why had the impostors sent a girl to talk to him? Harry saw a hurt look cross the girls face as Harry spoke. Tears began to form in her eyes, her beautiful, emerald eyes. Emerald eyes? He had seen those eyes before, every time he looked in the mirror. She had the same jet-black hair as he did, but her face was more rounded. She was beautiful, but somehow seemed very sad. She was wearing a Hogwarts cloak, with a Gryffindor badge on it. Harry felt a pang of guilt. He had never spoken to her. He didn't know her from Adam, aside from the fact that Adam was a boy's name. He was sure he knew everyone in his house but he had never seen her before. She looked about one, maybe two years younger than he was. She was either in Ginny's year or the year below, but he had never spoken to her, not seen her with Ginny. "I'm sorry," said Harry quickly, feeling guilty that she was on the verge of tears. "I didn't mean to hurt you. What's your name?" A single tear escaped the girl's eye, running slowly down her pale cheek.

"Harry, it's me," she whispered. "Rose. Your Rosie." She slowly reached out with a hand. Her bare arm came gently towards him. When her had was about a metre from the shield, it stopped. She seemed to be pressing against an invisible barrier.

"Rose?" echoed Harry, completely at a loss. She looked so much like him, but he had no idea who she was. She seemed familiar and Harry felt truly sorry for her, but he didn't know why. She looked so sad, and her eyes held the same pain that his did. Had she recently lost a Godfather or someone close? I bet she didn't get him killed, thought Harry bitterly. He felt another pang of guilt at the thought of Sirius.

"Harry, what has he done to you?" she whispered.

"Who?" asked Harry softly.

"Voldemort." Harry noticed that she said his name without a stammer or any hesitation. She had just gone up several rungs on Harry's ladder of respect.

"What hasn't he done to me," Harry said bitterly. He let out a sad laugh. He has orphaned me, ruined my life, dogged my footsteps, set a basilisk on my friend, stolen my blood, tortured me, killed my friend, killed my godfather and generally made my life hell. He couldn't say this for it would compromise information on the Order if she asked him to explain. He didn't know who she was and he had to keep the Order a secret. Harry searched for something to say, something that was true but didn't sound like a bid for pity. Pity was just what he didn't want. It was his pride talking but he didn't care.

"I don't understand," whispered Rose taking a step closer. She was mere centimetres from the invisible barrier. Harry thought about how best to answer.

"Surely you've read the Daily Prophet," he said carefully. She must have read something about him. The return of Voldemort had been the only story for nearly a month. She couldn't have missed it. The battle in 'a ministry department' had been described in detail for the same duration. She must know something about that. She couldn't know about loosing Sirius, but hopefully she had read the article in the Quibbler about the graveyard.

"Yes," said Rose. "But Mum told me they were exaggerating, blowing it out of proportion. Making you out to be something you're not."

"They did," said Harry. He was relieved that she knew what he was talking about, and even more so by the fact that she had believed him. "About me bring so powerful, dangerous and violent. But not about what has actually happened over the last two years. That was all real; all those events actually happened. And that stuff in the Quibbler, that's real, well the stuff about me is. I can't vouch for the rest of it, only Luna believes every article in it."

"Luna Lovegood?"

"Yep, in Ginny's year at Hogwarts. That would be fifth year this year. People say she's dotty, but she's a good girl, and her hearts in the right place. Luna, not Ginny; Ginny is as well, but she's also perfectly sane and a good friend."

"You know Ginny Weasley?" asked Rose, looking more sceptical than anything else. What was so unusual about that? Everyone knew he was close to the Weasleys. Most people thought that he and Ginny were an item. There was no truth in the rumour, but it had still been spread around.

"Yes, for many years now. I even stayed at the Burrow for parts of the summer for the last five years, except last year."

"That's impossible," said Rose defiantly. She shook her head, an expression of finality on her face. She reminded Harry of Ginny when she was in a stubborn mood.

"Why?" What was so impossible about Harry staying with his best friend for part of the summer?

"Because I know Ginny, and I've been to the Burrow every summer and I haven't seen you there," said Rose. There was something in her voice that Harry couldn't place. "She would have told me if you were staying there." She seemed to be angry but she also seemed to be speaking in a tone of voice she would use in a plea.

"You are friends with Ron and Ginny?" asked Harry softly, just as sceptically as she had been.

"Yes." Harry had heard no mention of her before. He was sure he had never seen her before and didn't recall ever knowing a Rose. What was her surname?

"They've never mentioned you to me, Rose...what's your second name?"

"Harry!" she snapped at him. He was taken back by this response and immediately started to apologise. He hadn't meant to anger her.

"What did I say?" he asked politely.

"You should know what my second name is," she said. "I'm your bloody sister!"

Harry stood frozen, that was the last thing he was expecting. He stared at her for what seemed like an eternity, gaping like a fish. He couldn't think of a thing to say. He had no sister. His mother had died; it was impossible. But there was a resemblance. Suddenly, Harry realised how stupid he had been. She was in on this. Crouch, Frank, Rose, they must all be Death Eaters. This was emotional manipulation. Pretending he had a sister to make him let slip facts about the Order. They were trying to break him emotionally. They might even be trying to get him to tell them about the Order. She was the enemy! But he wouldn't fall for it. He was cleverer than they were.

"You're one of them, aren't you?" said Harry softly, adopting a cold tone of voice. "You're in on this. Whatever is happening, call it off! Do you really expect me to believe that my parents are alive? That I have a sister I have never met? Good likeness, but you'll have to do better than that! They've been dead for fifteen years; nothing can bring them back. This whole act isn't funny. END IT!" His anger was boiling again. He had lost all pity for the trembling girl. Tears were streaming down her face. She was a good actress, but he wouldn't fall for it.

"Harry, I don't know what you're talking about!" she said between sobs. Her voice broke twice during the sentence.

"BOLLOCKS!" snapped Harry. "One minute I'm on holiday in Devon with my God-forsaken Aunt and Uncle and then Voldemort shows up and tries to kill me and now to top it all; you try to convince me my parents are still alive. I've been through enough pain for twenty lifetimes. I'm sick and tired of it, Rose, whoever you are, leave!"

"But..."

"LEAVE!" roared Harry.

Harry watched as the girl burst into tears and ran from the room. She's a good actress, I'll give her that, he thought bitterly. Still, he didn't feel sorry for her. She shouldn't have agreed to be part of all this. This one either a joke, or a Death Eater trick. She was probably a Death Eater in disguise, maybe even Bellatrix. She was messed up in the head. Her sick mind would probably enjoy such a sick thing as this. Stupid bint!

Harry was now leaning more to the idea that this was a Death Eater trick. They must think that if they pretend to be the Ministry, that he would let slip something about the Order. He wouldn't fall for it; he wouldn't betray Dumbledore. There must be an idiot in charge if they had someone dress up as Crouch. He was dead after all. They should have picked Fudge and then they'd be all right. Crouch, what idiot made that mistake. Was Goyle running the show?

~~~~ + ~~~~

"ROSE!" Lily threw her arms around her daughter as she came back into the room, tears streaming down her face as well as her daughters. "You are so stupid, Rose!" She hugged her daughter tighter. She felt her young body shaking as she wept. How could Harry do this to the sister he had once loved so much? What had Voldemort done to poison his mind that he could be angry at something so sweet as her Rose?

"He didn't know me," sobbed Rose. "He didn't remember me. He thinks you're dead." Lily stroked her hair as she held her daughter. She wished she had sent her to the burrow. She should be having fun with Ginny, not weeping over her deranged brother. Oh God! Lily couldn't believe she had just thought that about her own son!

"Well done, Miss Potter," came Crouch's voice. He seemed unusually happy, giving the sadness that hung in the air. Lily and Rose were in tears, James was trying to hold back himself and Crouch was as jovial as she had ever seen him. He was smiling from ear to ear. "You managed to extract a partial confession from him. We may have enough to give him the Kiss. Thank you very much." He bowed to Rose, a malevolent smile on his face.

"What confession?" sobbed Rose, turning to face the Minister, tears still rolling down her soft cheeks.

Crouch grinned evilly and tapped the glowing orb on the table with his wand. Harry's voice echoed from the box.

"Surely you've read the Daily Prophet,"

"Yes. But Mum told me they were exaggerating, blowing it out of proportion. Making you out to be something you're not."

"They did. About me bring so powerful, dangerous and violent. But not about what has actually happened over the last two years. That was all real; all those events actually happened. And that stuff in the Quibbler, that's real, well the stuff about me is. I can't vouch for the rest of it, only Luna believes every article in it."

"Congratulations, Miss Potter," he smirked. "Thanks to you, your wayward brother will be disposed of, permanently."

Rose dissolved into tears, crying in earnest into her mother's shoulder. "I didn't mean to get him killed!" she sobbed. "I'm sorry!" Lily felt her body tense. How dare he! How dare he do this to her daughter? She started forwards, but James caught her arm. He looked as furious as she felt but he mouthed a single word to her. Rose!

She was still hugging her now standing mother. Rose was sobbing into her breast, muttering under her breath, between sobs. "I'm sorry." "I didn't mean to..." Lily felt herself calm slightly as she stroked her daughter's hair gently and hugged her. She swayed gently, and kissed her daughter's forehead.

"Shhh!" comforted Lily. "It's all right. Albus won't let him be kissed or killed. Shhh!"

"Congratulations, Potter!" Lily looked up and into the cell. Crouch was back in the room with Harry. Her boy had grown up. Lily wanted to hold him, to run to him, but she knew Crouch wouldn't let her. He had his confession, near enough, and wouldn't let anyone near him now. She hoped Harry would give him an earful. She wanted to see him drive the Minster crazy. Go on, Harry, she thought, bitterly. Make him furious! See how red you can get him to go!

"You again?" sneered Harry. Lily watched as he approached the shield. Crouch did the same on the outside. "I told you, I wouldn't speak to you. I know you're a Death Eater. I know what you're trying to do. I'll speak to Dumbledore and only him. Good luck finding his hair for a Polyjuice potion. A single hair wouldn't even fit in the cauldron!" Yes! The very implication that Crouch had anything to do with the Dark Arts or was a Death Eater was guaranteed to get him angry. Also the mentioning of Dumbledore. Dumbledore was ever so popular, even more so than Crouch. Crouch believed the Minister should outrank the Headmaster of Hogwarts and the Wizengamot and he was right, by logic, but many still turned to Dumbledore for help rather than Crouch. Crouch hated the implication that Dumbledore was more powerful, influential and popular than he was. Harry was winding him up well. Lily watched, expecting Crouch to turn a shade of crimson, maybe even magenta. However, she was disappointed.

"Dumbledore?" Lily saw an evil smirk appear over Crouch's face as he smirked at Harry. "You'll talk to Dumbledore?"

Lily watched with curiosity as Harry nodded. Lily made a note to tell Albus that Harry wanted to speak to him next time she saw him.

"We'll go and see Dumbledore, first thing in the morning," said Crouch, with a large grin plastered all over his face. Lily was completely bemused by Crouch's behaviour and apparently so to was Harry. He was staring warily at Crouch who turned on his heal and marched out of the room. Lily kept her eyes firmly on Harry. He didn't move. He stared at the door, long after Crouch was gone. He looked thoughtful, sceptical, but he also seemed a bit happier than he had before his conversation with Crouch. So he was going to speak to Dumbledore. Lily wouldn't have to let Albus know after all. Crouch would do it.

Lily was startled as the door to the observation room opened a fraction and Crouch stuck his head in. He smirked at them all in turn before speaking.

"Your services are no longer required. Have a nice day, I trust you can show yourselves out." With that he was gone.

~~~~ + ~~~~

Harry hadn't slept well that night. He had a reoccurring dream about the girl. Rose. Whenever he closed his eyes, he saw her. She was like something from a dream. A face so familiar, so comforting, yet he knew she didn't exist. He had dreamt that it was her who had fallen through the veil, her that had been killed in the graveyard. What Harry also discovered, was that his scar wasn't hurting. He couldn't feel Voldemort's emotions, presence or anything. Since his return, it had ached all the time, but since his encounter with the Dark Lord, he couldn't remember it hurting once. Hang on! Why did I just think of him as the Dark Lord?

BANG!

The door slammed open and an Auror strode in. He carried a tray with a bowl and a cup on it. Harry sat up in his bed. The bright light came on, blinding him for a few seconds. He covered his eyes, trying to block out the light. He shielded his eyes and blinked a few times. He looked up at the Auror who was approaching.

"Turn around, on your knees, hands behind your head. If you move, I will stun you!" instructed the Auror, in a firm tone of voice. Harry did as he was told, squinting all the while. Harry suddenly remembered that he was going to see Dumbledore this morning, the fake Crouch had promised that. He could put up with this act for a few more hours. Then he would see Dumbledore and everything would be all right again. Once Dumbledore sorted things out, he'd be able to relax again. Harry knelt, put his hand on his head and waited. The wall of blue light faded and went out. He could hear the Auror behind him and assumed he was placing the tray on the table. After a few seconds the wall of light reappeared and Harry stood back up. The bowl contained soggy Coco Pops and the cup contained warm orange juice. He also had one piece of toast, which was cold. Delia Smith, eat your heart out, thought Harry bitterly.

Harry was too hungry to complain. He really wanted a cup of tea. He had one at least once a day usually and would probably get a headache if he didn't. Caffeine withdrawal, he believed it was called. Still, he had to make do. He ate what was there and then sat on his bed, waiting. His shirt and trousers were far from neat, but not too bad looking. He hoped he didn't smell too much. Dumbledore probably wouldn't care and would hopefully allow Harry to use the shower.

Harry paced his cell waiting for the time to come when he would see Dumbledore. Dumbledore could make everything OK again. Dumbledore was his only hope.

At last, the door flew open and Crouch came marching in, followed by several Aurors.

"Morning. Potter," he sneered. With a flick of his wand, he lowered the barrier. One of the Aurors approached Harry slowly, cautiously.

"I won't bite," said Harry sarcastically. Do they have to drag this out? he thought bitterly. Hurry up!

"No funny stuff," the Auror said firmly and he stepped closer. Harry remained perfectly still as the Auror took both his hands and bound them behind his back. "Now walk slowly towards the door. If you make any attempt to escape we will open fire. If you have any thoughts about a Death Eater snatch, we will shoot to kill, them and you and not necessarily in that order."

"I understand," said Harry politely. "I am not trying to escape. All I want is to speak to Dumbledore." He knew they didn't believe him, but no one said anything. Crouch was grinning like the Cheshire Cat. He looked particularly pleased with himself. Harry thought his smugness matched Percy "Weatherby" Weasley to a tee.

"Follow me," said Crouch. He walked swiftly out of the room, followed by Harry. Harry had an Auror on each side of him, and two bringing up the rear. The six-man procession made its way out of the room. Harry found himself at the end of a long corridor. There were six cells on each side. The floor was lime green and the cells looked clean and cold. The walls were white and the bars were painted white. They were made of metal and glowed with a blue light. These were normal cells. He had been given a special one. All this for using an Unforgivable on a woman who deserved it? Harry suddenly felt like Hannibal Lector.

"I ate his liver with some Fava Beans, and a nice Chianti," muttered Harry to himself.

"What?" snapped an Auror.

"Nothing," muttered Harry.

Prisoners pointed and stared as he was lead past the cells. He heard his name being muttered.

"It's him!"

"The Harry Potter!"

That's better. He didn't want to appear vain, but at least they recognised him. Things were getting back to normal. They walked along the corridor; some of the inmates nodded to him, others just pointed and gasped. The Death Eaters must find this hilarious, thought Harry. They must be laughing their arses off at the Boy-Who-Lived, the only one who could defeat Voldemort being arrested. They passed through a barred gate and then through a steel door at the end of the cellblock.

The next room seemed like an office. There were many desk lined neatly up. Notice boards were dotted around the wall. There were wanted posters all over the walls. People were working all over the room. Most were in plain clothes, though some were in the red robes that Aurors wear when on the beat or where they need to be seen, such as guard duty, escort and such like. Some were in full body-armour and black ninja suits. The Auror Headquarters was buzzing with activity. Ah, thought Harry. The room was very large and filled with a lot of people. If this was a trick to get him to compromise the order, there were a lot of people involved. This was huge in scale and would Voldemort really go to all this trouble to find out about the Order? It would be so much simpler to kill him now that he had him in custody. Why the charade? It made no sense. Nothing made any sense.

All eyes turned to look at them as they entered. The procession stopped as they entered the room. Every head turned and silence fell in the room. Harry couldn't see Moody, Kingsley or Tonks. Where were they? Instead of smiles, every Auror was glaring at him. Looking around, Harry saw that every eye was cold, every face set into a glare. Nobody moved. Harry felt very nervous at his point. He was the centre of attention and he had never liked that. He felt his face redden.

Finally, after Crouch thought he had suffered enough, the procession continued. They walked along the aisle between desks. Aurors moved to let them through. One Auror stood still until Harry was level and then moved, slamming his shoulder roughly into Harry's.

"Excuse me," said the Auror sarcastically after he had deliberately bumped into him.

The others just smirked. Harry looked around, searching for Kingsley, Moody and Tonks as he was lead past the Aurors. For a fraction of a second Harry thought he saw Sirius standing amid the sea of red robes. His heart had skipped a beat, but he knew it was impossible. Sirius was dead, and even if he wasn't, he was still wanted, as Pettigrew was still at large. Sirius wouldn't be in Auror headquarters. It was the last place he'd come if he ever escaped the veil. Harry sighed. His Godfather was gone; nothing could bring him back. He had to move on, as painful as it would be to do so.

Harry avoided all further eye contact as he was paraded through Auror headquarters and out into the Ministry of Magic's maze of corridors. Crouch led the way at a swift pace, and Harry soon found himself facing the lift. They all managed to fit inside and the lift took them down to the bottom floor.

The bell chimed and the voice announced that they were on the right floor. Crouch led them out of the lift and down the passage in front of them. The corridor was deserted, and Harry suddenly got the feeling that something was wrong. This isn't right. He felt a chill run down his spine. It was not Voldemort, Harry's scar was fine, but something was scaring him. Harry tried not to look at the door to the Department of Mysteries as he passed, but he couldn't help it. That was probably what made him feel so cold. That was where Sirius had died. He felt a pang of loss and guilt deep inside.

Seeing the door also reminded him of the Prophecy. If this was a Death Eater trick, he mustn't mention the prophecy or the Order. He also had to make sure it was really Dumbledore. If he mentioned the Prophecy or the order and it wasn't really Dumbledore, both the real Dumbledore and Harry would be done for. He needed a question that only Dumbledore would know the answer to. What did he and Nicolas Flamel make? The Philosopher's Stone! That would do, but to be sure, Harry thought he should add another one. You lost your taste for Berty Bott's Every Flavour Beans after tasting which flavour? Vomit! That was two questions that would prove who Dumbledore really was. Only Dumbledore would know the answer to both of those questions. Hopefully.

Harry looked up and recognised the doors in front of him. They led to the Atrium. Why would Dumbledore want to meet me here of all places?

"I thought we were going to see Dumbledore," said Harry as they approached the Atrium doors. Why not in an office or come to Harry's cell? What was going on?

"We are," said Crouch with a vindictive grin. With that he opened the doors and strode in.

Harry forgot all about his two questions as he suddenly realised that he had been double-crossed. This wasn't a private conversation with the Headmaster of Hogwarts. This was a full-scale murder trial by the Wizengamot.