Issues

Issues chapter 10. Issues of Morality.

Some time later while he was still collapsed on the floor, Harry heard a soft knock on the bathroom door.

"Harry, you in there?"

It was Tonks and Harry silently groaned. He had hoped that he might be able to escape the house undetected but he must have been sitting here wallowing in his guilt and nausea for longer than he thought. He really had no idea of the time. The only reason he even knew it was morning was due to the light shining through the bathroom window.

Wearily, he dragged himself to his feet. "Yes, Tonks, I'll be out in a minute," he called.

"Gotcha Harry. I'll have breakfast ready for you when you come down."

As Harry looked at himself in the mirror and saw what effect the drinking and the disturbed sleep had on him, he realised that the last thing his stomach wanted was food and that he'd need to clean up - a lot - before he'd be able to get away without some explanation of his previous night's behaviour.

Ten minutes later, stomach still twisted in knots but feeling much better physically than he had been, Harry walked into the kitchen to see Tonks and Remus seated at the table eating bacon and eggs. He'd smelled them on the way downstairs and even though his stomach protested, he thought he should try to eat. He had a long day ahead of him and he'd need something solid in him.

Tonks greeted him. "Morning, Harry. Sit down and I'll dish you up some breakfast."

Harry just nodded and sat, purposely not looking at Remus. But he could feel the man's stare boring into him and, from the corner of his eye he could see the stern expression.

"What time is it?" he asked.

"Not long after eight," Remus said.

"Thanks." There was some relief at the hour. Not much, as despite it giving him time for a shower, he'd also have time for the discussion that he was sure Remus would insist upon. How would they feel if he told them about the dream he'd had? The things he'd done in the dream? They'd tell him it was just a dream and it meant nothing; which was true in itself but didn't explain why he'd had it.

They sat silently then, neither seemed willing to open the discussion. Harry knew he should apologise for his outbursts the night before as he knew Remus was only looking out for him but that little rebellious part of him was still annoyed that the man had acted like it was his job to tell Harry how to live his life. Then Tonks placed a plate of eggs and bacon in front of him and he began to eat, not because his stomach wanted food but more because it gave him another chance to not speak.

Of course, now that he'd had his little bad tempered episode and that dream, he realised that the situation he was in at present was not Malfoy's fault at all. Harry had made his own choices about whether or not to get involved and he had chosen to do the right thing. Begrudgingly for sure but freely nevertheless. And whilst he felt a lot calmer about this realisation, he wasn't sure if it was the guilt over the content of the dream that had bought him to this much more logical conclusion, or whether it was his own innate nature that had made him see sense.

After pushing his bacon around the plate for a while, occasionally taking a mouthful but not really enjoying it, and still feeling Remus' gaze on him, he finally put down his knife and fork.

"I'm sorry for the way I behaved last night," he said sincerely, sighing. "I was letting everything get to me and I shouldn't have taken it out on you."

"Apology accepted, Harry." Remus nodded. I have to apologise to you, too. I hope you don't mind but I talked with Dora and she made me see that I was wrong to try and tell you to do something that is against your nature."

Harry looked at him sharply; he hadn't been expecting Remus to apologise. "No, I don't mind Tonks knowing what's going on."

"I still want to know why you're helping young Malfoy," Remus said and Tonks agreed.

"Yes. I do, too. I've seen my cousin's file and he's a Death Eater and you always hated him. I don't see why you want anything to do with him."

There were four people left alive in the world that knew about the spell that killed Voldemort. Just himself, Hermione, Ron and Malfoy and there didn't seem to be any reason why he couldn't tell Remus and Tonks that Malfoy had helped Snape find the spell, but the secret had been kept this long and successfully at that, and he just had a feeling he should not divulge anything about anything yet. It could possibly be that he just didn't want to see the looks of disbelief on their faces. Without proof, they'd think he was ready for the psych ward at St. Mungo's

"Nothing has changed from last night; there are still things I just can't tell you yet. Can you please just trust me?" he pleaded. "He's not what you think," he added, knowing it would probably spark off more questions.

Silence was his answer and he looked between them both as they exchanged glances and Harry wondered if they could read each other's thoughts. Tonks gave Remus a stern look and the man subsided and sighed.

"Alright, Harry. You know we trust you, but you need to come to us if you need help. You don't have to do this on your own. I'm sure Dora would help."

Tonks was nodding from across the table. "Harry, Draco is my cousin and while I might dislike the little sod, he is family and if I can do anything to help, then I'd be happy to."

"Actually," Harry said putting down his knife and fork. "There might be something you can help me with. What do you think about the forced use of Veritaserum on prisoners?" Before he asked for any assistance from Tonks, he needed to know her views - her unofficial ones.

He caught the quick look between Tonks and Remus, and noticed how she bit her lip, obviously debating with herself before answering. "I'm not going to tell anyone, Tonks," Harry reassured her. "They're planning to use it on Draco at his trial, and I don't think it's right. I want to try and stop them, somehow."

Harry didn't even notice that he was now calling Malfoy, Draco.

Tonks gave a relieved nod. "I agree with you, Harry. Remus is not so sure, but I suspect that attitude comes from spending most of his life trying to prove to the Ministry that he's not a threat or a danger. He'd take any avenue offered in order to prove that."

"It's not that, Dora, stop putting words in my mouth," Remus exclaimed. "I just don't see anything wrong with using it to ensure that people are not a threat to our society. But it should be a choice. I don't think it should be forced except under extreme circumstances."

"And you think Draco is extreme circumstances?" Harry asked, frowning.

"I don't know, Harry. Perhaps."

"He was a kid, Remus. A scared kid trying to save his family from a monster. Faced with Voldemort holding that sort of threat over Tonks, wouldn't you do the same? And he was only sixteen years old. How is a sixteen-year-old expected to fight off someone like Voldemort?"

"You were," Remus replied softly and Harry shook his head.

"That's hardly the point. I had help; he had no one. Worse than that, he'd have had to fight off every person in his family as well. I can't see myself being able to do that. Remember Wormtail? How old was he when he betrayed my parents?"

"We're getting off track here," Remus said, a dark look on his face. "If Malfoy has nothing to hide, then it shouldn't matter if they use Veritaserum on him."

"He has a right to his own privacy, Remus," Harry argued. It felt like he'd been through this all before with Kingsley the previous night and he knew that there were so many people who held the same views as Remus.

"But don't you see, Harry, that people are scared there might be another Dark Lord and they need reassurances that anyone who is found not guilty, is actually not guilty and not just a good liar."

"Let me ask you something, Remus," Harry said trying to explain his point. "When you were undercover, running with Greyback and his pack, did you do anything illegal?"

"What?" Remus asked, shocked, his face paling. "Harry, you have no right to ask that question. Whatever I did was on the Order's behalf and was necessary to the war effort."

"Stay with me on this, Remus. Would you like it to become public knowledge?"

"Of course not!"

"What would happen if you found yourself up before the Wizengamot on a trumped up charge for something fairly petty? Under the laws we have now the Ministry could, and probably would in this current climate, insist on using Veritaserum on you. They would be within the law to ask you any question they liked."

Both Tonks and Remus were pale now. But Harry continued. "Using Veritaserum is not the problem, it's the latitude given to ask any question they like, for no reason at all, on matters that have no relevance to the charges whatsoever. Now both you and I know that there were reasons for what you did, and in the end it probably saved a lot of lives but the morality is greyed because it was outside the law and outside Ministry approval."

Remus was silent, his jaw set and, for a moment, it looked to Harry like he was going to argue. But then suddenly he stood up pushing his chair back forcefully and left the room. Harry followed him with his eyes before turning to Tonks who was looking stricken.

"I'm sorry, should I go after him?"

"No, Harry," she said, shaking her head. "I think he's just beginning to see your point. He carries a lot of guilt inside him for things he was forced to do during the war. On Dumbledore's orders at first, and then when you took over he just carried on. I don't think he ever spoke to you about the things he saw...or did."

"No, he didn't," Harry replied.

"Greyback was...he was despicable. Remus should be given a medal for what he did, for the lives he saved, talking that monster out of killing little children. Instead, if anyone finds out, he will be persecuted and hunted down." Tonks slammed her hand down on the table and stood up, collecting the plates. It was an indication of her agitation that she barely made it to the sink with them before they slipped from her hands and into the soapy water.

Harry felt just awful now. He'd known that Remus had infiltrated the pack and had managed to let them know Greyback's whereabouts. He even knew that Remus had been instrumental in turning a number of them away from Greyback but he'd never really known what it was that he'd had to live through.

After a few minutes, Tonks turned back to Harry and took her seat again. "What do you need from me, Harry? I'll help any way I can."

****

By 9.30am, Harry had arrived at St Mungo's along with Ron and Hermione for the opening of the new ward. He'd bought them both up to date on what had happened since the last time he'd seen them, except for the way Draco had managed to stay alive. They'd fire-called Kingsley about the break in at his flat and the information on Coghill that the Weasley twins had obtained, and Kingsley informed them that he'd received the recording already. After arranging to meet them at St. Mungo's, along with some additional Aurors in case Coghill decided to show his face again, Harry let Kingsley know that he'd spoken to Tonks and she was willing to help them obtain information about the people that had lost brain function after the forced use of Veritaserum. Hermione had spoken to Peter Sully and asked him to be at the ward opening so they could meet after the function. With all the fire-calling, Harry wished that wizards would take advantage of Muggle technology and use mobile phones. He thought he might get onto the twins about developing something similar that wizards would use.

Harry smiled to himself; he rather liked the team he had working with him again. They'd grown used to working with each other during the war and had saved Harry a lot of stress by being efficient, almost reading his mind at times. That's not to say that they didn't argue. Neither Ron nor Hermione thought twice about disputing something they weren't sure of and that was possibly the greatest compliment and display of trust that Harry knew of. For when they agreed with him, Harry knew that he had their complete support and would work as hard as he did to accomplish their task.

When Scrimgeour arrived amidst a flurry of reporters and flashing cameras, ordering Quick Quills to take notes, Harry could barely refrain from sneering. It was all so much of a farce, a sham for the public. Harry could understand the need for public authority figures to be in the public eye at this time, he just couldn't see that sweeping things under the rug, lying to people, was the way to form the basis of a society at peace. Had the Ministry learnt nothing?

Harry's hand was shaken numerous times and he'd been photographed with the Minister what seemed like a thousand times (too many) in various poses at the ribbon cutting ceremony for the ward opening. He made his speech, all the time keeping careful watch on the crowd in case Coghill showed up again and noting that Sully was at the back in the audience. They acknowledged each other with a short nod and Harry returned to finish his speech, reiterating that persecution was not the way to bring lasting peace.

After the formalities were completed and the bright red ribbon opening the new ward was cut, Harry extracted himself from Scrimgeour's attention and joined Ron and Hermione who were chatting with Peter Sully.

"Mr. Sully, nice to meet you finally," Harry said, extending his hand. A strong grip responded and intelligent blue eyes smiled at him, assessing him with a searching look. He was a fairly non-descript man, apart from his eyes, being of average height and build, with short black hair.

"Mr. Potter, the pleasure is all mine. Call me Peter, please." Harry was glad to note that the tone wasn't the gushing one he often faced but seemed genuine. He smiled in return.

"And I'm just Harry," he said.

"Harry." Peter nodded. "Your friends here suggest that we may be able to help each other out," Peter continued. Harry was pleased. Peter Sully appeared to be a no nonsense type of person that got straight down to the problem.

"Well, Hermione has been really impressed with the paper you work for," Harry said, turning towards her and smiling softly. Hermione had that look in her eyes when she had a new problem to solve, a new situation to research and, unless Harry was very much mistaken, Hermione had probably found her calling in life.

She was nodding. "I most certainly have been, and I want to talk to you about a most terribly neglected section of the community, kept as slaves -"

But Harry and Ron both interrupted Hermione before she could get on her high horse about house-elves. "I think he has enough to be going on with, Hermione," Ron said tactfully, which was surprising for Ron who was not normally known for his tact. "One thing at a time, yeah?"

Harry smiled at them both; they really complemented each other in the best ways. Hermione was the loud one with the analytical brain that thought things through at a thousand miles per hour but Ron was her rock. He was the one who would always be there to catch her if she fell. When Hermione gave Ron a reluctant nod, Harry turned back to find Sully scrutinizing them both, clear interest on his face.

"You asked me about the forced use of Veritaserum at the press conference. I want to try and stop it." Harry paid him the respect of also getting right to the point. There seemed no need for social pleasantries here.

Sully studied them all for a few more moments before seeming to make a decision. "Two years ago, my brother was forced to take Veritaserum while being questioned for the distribution of illegal potions. He'd already admitted to distributing them and was prepared to accept his punishment, which at the time was three months in Azkaban. The Ministry said they required him to provide the names of the potion makers, which he refused to do. He feared reprisals if he revealed those names."

Sully stopped speaking for a moment; his eyes becoming hard as he related his story. Continuing, he looked Harry directly in the eyes and said, "The Ministry forced the serum upon him and extracted the names. Less than a week into his stay in Azkaban, he was found dead in his cell. He'd been strangled and not by his own hand. My brother died because of the Ministry law and because of their inefficiency in collecting evidence legitimately themselves to apprehend criminals."

The sense of injustice must be awful, Harry thought as he met Sully's eyes. Harry was no stranger to what he saw as unjust treatment. "I'm sorry," was all he said. There really wasn't a lot more to say; he didn't know Peter Sully, or his brother, but he was sad for Sully's loss.

Sully shook his head. "It's not your fault, Harry," he said. "But he was prepared to accept a longer sentence for not cooperating with them because he was scared of what the syndicate would do to him if he revealed their names. He was not given that choice and it cost him his life. If there is anyone we can save from that, I want to help."

Harry nodded. "I haven't actually had the chance to read your newspaper yet," he admitted. "But I've been told about it." He looked around as if to ensure that they weren't being eavesdropped upon, which was probably more habit than anything else, as there were very few people still in the foyer after the opening of the new ward. There were two familiar figures though and he continued. "How would you like an exclusive story that confirms the rumours about people being committed to St Mungo's with barely any brain function after being forced to take Veritaserum?"

He noticed with satisfaction that Sully's eyes lit up with interest. "I'd like that very much. It would do a lot to give credibility to our campaign. We've all heard the rumours and the staff have tried on numerous occasions to get some actual proof but we've never been able to find it."

As the two familiar figures approached the small group, Harry stepped aside a little and admitted them. He nodded to Kingsley and Tonks and introduced them to Sully. The reporter knew Kingsley of course, due to his position, and he shook hands with both of them.

"Harry, we've found the information you wanted but I'm fairly sure that even in my position I won't be able to get any of you in. I'll be lucky to get through myself," Kingsley said, once the pleasantries had been dealt with.

"I didn't think so," Harry said, "but I asked Ron and Hermione to come just in case. They wanted to go and see Dean anyway." Hermione and Ron nodded in agreement. "Tonks, I was wondering if you'd go with them and take his statement about who saved him for..." he paused, not wanting to give away Draco's identity to Peter Sully, who was avidly listening to the conversation, as was to be expected. "...The records," he finished.

Tonks nodded in agreement but Kingsley broke in. "That still doesn't solve our problem."

Harry patted his pocket. "Don't worry about that. I have something here that will enable us to go just about anywhere in this hospital and not be detected."

Sully spoke up. "We know Disillusionment charms don't work in here, so what do you have?"

Harry looked around. "Lets get out of the public eye and I'll show you," he said.

Ron spoke, then. "Trust him. It works. Harry, we'll be off then. See you back at The Burrow later?"

Harry shook his head. "Probably not. As soon as I'm done here, I have to go searching for something else," he replied, giving Ron a meaningful look. Spinner's End was seemingly still so far away, when he really just wanted to get there and look for the diary and clear Draco's name. Which, when he thought about it, was possibly the weirdest thought he'd had in a long time. The more he thought about the weirdness of the situation, the less wrong it sounded. He gave both Ron and Hermione a hug goodbye and then turned to Kingsley. "Right, let's get this thing on the move," he said determinedly and headed for the lifts, both men following immediately.

Harry was quite impressed by Sully. Oh, he had no illusions that the man was cataloguing everything that was said in that conversation but he was obviously good at his job and knew when to speak and when to act like he wasn't there. Silent observation often produced more information that direct questioning did.

Once the lift doors closed, Kingsley pushed the button for the fifth floor. "Are we going to the Janus Thickey ward?" Harry asked.

Kingsley nodded. "It's an area attached to the back of the Janus Thickey," he said. "It's actually the most logical place. If any of the patients manage to wander away, they can be passed off as one of the long-term mental patients in that ward - to the casual observer anyway."

"How many of them are there?" Sully asked.

"About a dozen here," he replied, thinking. Then as if making a decision, he gave himself a nod and continued. "These are the ambulatory ones. There's a safe house in Cornwall that's set up to house the bed-ridden patients. I believe there are twenty-five patients there."

"It's wrong, Kingsley," Harry whispered, shocked that the effects on these people were so tragic and so permanent. He thought he was prepared to see these victims. That's what they were - victims. No matter if they had been accused of committing some crime or other, they were still victims of cruelty themselves. He'd always thought Azkaban under the guard of the Dementors was cruel enough but at least those people had been given a trial and were, as far as Harry knew, guilty of the crimes they'd been accused of.

"I know," Kingsley replied soberly. "We can just be thankful, in a way, that the threat of what might happen makes most people agree to it."

"That's pretty cold comfort for the poor sods like my brother who were affected in other ways," Sully added darkly.

Kingsley regarded him for a moment and then nodded in agreement. Harry wondered if Kingsley knew the details of Sully's brother's case.

"I hope thirty-seven people will be enough to sway public opinion," Kingsley said.

"Speaking of which," Sully said, "how are we to get in?"

"Oh," Harry replied, smiling. "With this..." He reached into his pocket and pulled out the folded Invisibility Cloak and shook it out.

Sully grinned. "It's been a long while since I've seen one of those. They're extremely rare."

"If I remember correctly, Harry, your father had one. I take it that's his?" Kingsley added with a fond smile on his face.

Harry nodded. "It's saved my arse on more than one occasion," he grinned. "And it should cover both of us. Ron, Hermione and I used to all fit under it. As long as we scrunch down a bit, we'll be fine."

"Well, put it on, we'll be there shortly. And keep close behind me, we don't want any accidents."

Quickly, Harry covered both himself and Sully, who was tentatively reaching out to touch the material. "Amazing," he whispered, and Harry had to agree.

Getting past the nurse at the hidden door was anti climactic. She took one look at Kingsley and ushered him through. Apparently, whilst this ward wasn't common knowledge, the Ministry didn't appear to have impenetrable wards upon it. Although as head of the Auror Department, Kingsley was probably the least suspect person to be allowed within its walls.

Harry thought he'd prepared himself for seeing these victims. He remembered meeting Neville's parents in the Janus Thickey ward years ago. They had thought that Neville was still a toddler and obviously weren't able to live without constant care but he'd had the impression that the staff had treated them with the fondness usually associated with the way children were treated. He'd assumed that these other people would be treated in much the same manner.

But this...was something else. Entirely.

What struck Harry first was the silence. Out in the Janus Thickey ward, there had been the bright chatter of the staff, the clattering of people moving around and patients muttering to themselves or carrying on conversation with imaginary people. It had felt like a decent environment. In here, though, there was silence and Harry felt that if he breathed too heavily they'd be discovered. It was oppressive and it made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He glanced at Sully, only to see his attention focused on the beds.

There were eleven of them, Harry counted when his gaze followed Sully's. They were identical in every aspect, right down to the picture in the magical window above their heads. The only differences were in the people that lay upon the beds. Each one was strapped down, wrists, ankles, chest and hips tied to the bed with leather straps.

Harry stood there shocked at seeing people strapped down like this. He felt a tug on his elbow and shook himself to see Sully motioning him to follow Kingsley and the nurse who was speaking.

"...too happy to have you here to inspect our efficiency," the nurse, a stocky middle-aged woman, was saying and Harry bristled, a retort only barely restrained. This might be efficient but it was inhumane. Images of what could happen to Malfoy caused something to roll over uncomfortably in his stomach then. He pushed them away and forced himself to listen to the conversation and look about him, determined to remember every terrible detail.

"Why are they all restrained?" Kingsley asked and Harry could hear the tension in his voice, too. He must be as shocked as Harry.

"Well, we need to keep them manageable and with so few staff, if we let them run around, a lot of them would spend all their time trying to escape." The nurse's voice was so casual. Didn't she care that these were human beings? Harry looked at one of the patients, a young woman of perhaps twenty-five and he wondered what on earth she could have done in order to end up here. She was muttering something and moving her head from side to side, eyes wide and vacant and staring at something - or nothing - on the ceiling.

"Are they kept like this all the time?" Kingsley asked quietly. Harry was so pleased that Kingsley was such a professional. They really needed to know how this ward ran and only by keeping his temper and asking the right questions would he find out everything they needed to know.

"Oh, most of the time," the nurse responded with a wave of her hand as if the patients' care was unimportant. "Once a day we get them up to walk around the ward for a few minutes."

"What about feeding them and general hygiene?" Kingsley asked.

"They're spelled clean once a week and their bodily functions are regulated by their diet. We discovered that a specific protein potion which we administer orally will keep those to a minimum while at the same time ensuring that their physical condition doesn't deteriorate too extremely."

Kingsley's eyes wavered to where he assumed Harry and Sully were and the look of hopeless sadness in them was terrible to see.

"Why aren't they making any noise?"

"Silencing spells around the beds. It's a madhouse in here, otherwise. It would affect the efficient running of the ward and who wants to listen to the insane ramblings of those criminals?"

Harry clenched his fist, fuming. Animals were treated better than this. He didn't want to listen to anymore. Sully grabbed his elbow and pulled him to the side as Kingsley and nurse 'Ratchett', or so Harry dubbed her, continued down along the row of beds. They didn't dare whisper to each other, despite the distance from the nurse, but Sully's hand movements indicated that he wanted a good look at the young woman, so Harry nodded and joined him.

It was lucky the air in the ward was so warm, uncomfortably humid if truth were told, as the young woman was barely covered with a thin cotton shift of some description. Her arms, pulled out from her sides, were bare as were her legs to well up past her knees. Harry averted his eyes out of respect because the shift was riding up higher than it should have been, due to the leather straps around the woman's chest and hips. Instead he watched her face and eyes. Her hair was dull and lifeless, lying in tangled clumps around her head. When his eyes drifted to her mouth, he saw chewed lips, rough and broken and moving erratically as she spoke. Harry thought she might have been attractive, once.

Under the fake window above her head, there was a clear plastic box with a slip of paper within it that read 'Sally McGregor. 24:348-JTS-SOL.' Harry had no idea what the numbers or letters meant but he thought the '24' might be her age, though she looked a lot older than that now.

Harry looked away; he felt like he was intruding on what little dignity she had left by staring at her like that. Inspecting her like an exhibit in a zoo. He was powerless to do anything about these people except to try and change things in order to make the rest of their lives a little easier with some humane care, instead of this institutionalised degradation that they were subjected to now. It frustrated him that after all he'd been through he still had battles to fight.

But more and more he was being drawn into a new fight. Granted this one was a more political fight but even that had become something that was putting his physical safety at risk. Even if he'd wanted to let Draco fend for himself, he knew that he couldn't do it. There was no way he could let Draco suffer this; not after the horrors he'd already been through. And no matter how many times Harry told himself that he still disliked Draco, it was sounding less and less convincing.

There was no choice but to fight it. For everyone, not just Draco. This was not right; this was no way to administer justice. It was lucky that Harry had good people around him because he had no idea how to fight this battle. Still, he thought, what's new about that? When did he ever know what he was doing? Doubts about his ability to fight this came to the surface then. What if he didn't succeed? What if Draco was forced to take the Veritaserum and was damaged to this extent? Or worse? Harry could only imagine the state the non-ambulatory patients must be in.

If he didn't win this fight, then Draco was going to spend the next two weeks alone in a Ministry cell before maybe being consigned to this ward, or the house in Cornwall and treated like an animal. He might not be able to control the eventual outcome but he did have some measure of control over the next couple of weeks.

Kingsley's voice cut through his thoughts then, making his goodbye's to nurse 'Ratchett' - Harry felt some vindictive pleasure in calling her that - and he and Sully moved to stand close behind him as they left the ward.

Once in the lift, Harry whipped off the cloak. "I can't even begin to tell you how angry that made me, Kingsley," he said, incensed.

"I know," Kingsley replied, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I never knew it was as bad as that." He looked at Sully. "This will be front page news?"

Sully nodded. "Hell yes. I can almost certainly guarantee that the major newspapers will pick up the story, too. A story this big just can't be ignored."

"I'm going to arrange that the files on the eleven patients in that ward be 'leaked' to you. For now, I want you to keep my name out of it. If I get removed from my position I can't help anyone."

Sully nodded, excited now, obviously eager to get started on his story. "I can imply that my source is from within the hospital," he said.

"You can add my name to your story," Harry said. "For whatever good it can do, you can say that I enabled you to get into the ward and see these patients with your own eyes. The problem is," Harry added, "will anyone care?"

"I think so," Sully said, looking at Harry. "By the time I have these peoples' personal stories and make them human to the readers and not just anonymous names, they'll care."

"I hope so," he said as they exited the lift. Harry extended his hand to Sully. "Under different circumstances, I would say it's been nice to meet you. Hopefully, we'll meet again under better ones," he said.

"We'll stay in contact, Harry," Sully replied, taking Harry's hand and shaking it. "I'll keep you up to date on the story; hopefully it should be out in a few days. But, it's been a pleasure to meet you. Perhaps one day you'll do me the honour of letting me write your story."

Harry blushed and demurred; he'd rather not put his story out there and perpetuate the publicity unless forced to but he'd keep it in mind. Perhaps one story, once, might be enough and they'd all leave him to live in peace. One day.

Sully shook hands with Kingsley, who said he'd be in touch, and then he left. Harry watched the reporter disappear, hoping he'd done the right thing in allowing his name to be used. But then, he did feel it was the right thing to do and so what good was thinking that if he didn't do anything about it?

"What are your plans now, Harry? You should have an escort you know, if Coghill is after you."

"Thanks, but no thanks. I have something I need to do now that is fairly well protected from the likes of Coghill and then I have the Weasley twins if I need some more protection. Not to mention Hermione and Ron."

"As long as you're sure. Coghill is a pretty hard man. He was good at his job, too and shouldn't be taken lightly."

"I don't. I'm watching out for myself, don't worry and I promise, if I need help, I'll call."

"Very well. I need to get back to my office and arrange for one of my trusted staff to leak important documents," he said with a wry grin. "I thought that all this subterfuge against the Ministry would be over now Voldemort is dead."

"So did I, Kingsley," Harry replied. "So did I."

Five minutes later, Harry was at the door to Draco's cell, looking at him through the small window in the door. Draco was lying on his back on the bed, arms crossed under his head, staring up at the ceiling. Harry frowned, that uncomfortable rolling in his stomach appearing again. He didn't analyse it too much, realising that it might be just the residual guilt and shame from the dream last night, or pity, or...it might be something else that he really didn't need or want to look at right now. Draco looked lonely and bored, which made Harry sympathise with him even more. And Draco's isolation was too reminiscent of what he had just seen in the ward. It only firmed his decision.

He lowered the wards and entered the cell, tossing his Invisibility cloak at Draco and saying, "Put that on. I'm getting you out of here."