The First Day

Harry followed a line of people up the stairs, staring at the plum velvet robe of the Wizengamot member in front of him. He sullenly kicked at the edge of the riser, upset that he'd been made to accompany them to question Dumbledore's portrait. His mood lightened a bit when he saw McGonagall standing stiffly in resentful imperiousness at the entrance to the Headmistress' office. She didn't see the point to this charade, either. She turned to the gargoyle and murmured, 'Cluaran leana.' The gargoyle slid to the side and Harry waited for Shacklebolt, the four members of the Wizengamot that had led the previous hearing, and McGonagall to walk through the door and begin to slow ascent up to McGonagall's office, before joining them.

The ride up to McGonagall's office was tense and silent, with McGonagall's eyes boring into the backs of the Wizengamot members. Harry almost felt sorry for them. At the top of the stairs, the filed into the Headmistress' office; and Harry almost felt, rather than heard, the anticipatory rustle from the previous Heads as they shifted attentively, eagerly awaiting the proceedings. A few of them waved brightly to Harry, who returned it bashfully. He noticed Phineas Nigellus Black appeared to be in a deep sleep, but it was the exaggerated position of repose that made Harry chuckle to himself. Phineas Black was probably the most anti-social previous Head in the office, feigning disinterest in nearly everything around him, even though Harry knew he listened to everything avidly. Today would be no different.

While the Wizengamot member leading the hearing began to drone on, Harry took the time to gaze around the office. He didn't know it that well, but he figured he'd been in here more than any other student in recent history. Something seemed slightly off. It wasn't just that Dumbledore's fanciful silvery instruments were no longer there, something else wasn't quite the same. Harry's eyes moved slowly around the walls. There was the Sorting Hat on its shelf. It looked a little worse for wear after its exploits from last spring, but the brim rippled a little as Harry's attention turned to it. Gryffindor's sword lay in the glass case, glinting brightly in the winter sunshine that flooded the room. Harry's gaze swept over the previous Heads - Armando Dippet, Everard, Dilys Derwent, Phineas Black, Dexter Fortescue, Albus Dumbledore... He stopped suddenly and frowned, taking a few steps toward Dumbledore's portrait. A small portrait, no bigger than one of the photographs of his parents in his album, now occupied a space on the wall. Harry was sure it hadn't been there before. He peered at it, rubbing his eyes.

It was Severus Snape, who pointedly had his back turned to the resumed hearing, shoulders stiffly held around his ears. He seemed to be ignoring what was going on right behind him, but Harry couldn't blame him.

'Then I suggest you put your questions toward Severus,' Dumbledore was saying. Harry shook himself slightly and gave the hearing his full attention.

'Professor Snape, would you explain your actions of September first to May first of the last school year?' the lead Wizengamot member asked haughtily.

'I told you, Albus, I wanted no part of this,' Snape said in a low rumble, his head turning slightly to the side toward Dumbledore as he spoke.

'They're only going to believe it if they hear it from you, Severus,' Dumbledore reprimanded.

Snape shoulders drew in even more and his head turned fully toward Dumbledore. 'Albus,' he began patiently, 'nobody is ever going to believe what I did and why.' Harry noticed Snape's dark eyes were shuttered. Even as a portrait. 'Let them convict me. Let them have their scapegoat. It's what they want,' he finished contemptuously, turning his back to the room once more, clearly finished.

Harry's eyes narrowed. He didn't remember seeing a portrait of Snape in the Head's office, either the morning after the battle, when he used the Elder Wand to repair his own holly-and-phoenix feather one, nor a few days later when he came up to talk to McGonagall once he woke up. 'How long has Professor Snape's portrait been here?' he asked McGonagall, in seeming idleness.

One of McGonagall's expressive eyebrows swept up and she glared at Harry over the rims of her glasses. 'Severus' portrait appeared shortly after the memorial service in May,' she informed Harry. Her eyes flicked toward the other portraits. 'It seemed the other Heads were rather swayed by your insistence that he be included.'

Shacklebolt couldn't completely stifle his laughter. He swiftly turned it into a cough. 'Well, I think that ought to put to rest any questions you might have about Snape's innocence in the matter.'

'Minister, this is highly irregular,' sniffed the lead Wizengamot member.

'This entire situation is highly irregular,' Shacklebolt retorted. 'If Snape was the traitor you seem to want to paint him, he wouldn't be here. And you were able to question Dumbledore in minute detail. I trust you have enough information to make your decision?'

The four members of the Wizengamot exchanged glances. One of the reluctantly spoke. 'We do.'

'Brilliant,' Harry muttered.

McGonagall flicked her wand at the door and it swung open. 'Shall we go downstairs? You are all welcome to stay for lunch,' she sighed. She rode down the spiral staircase next to Harry. 'If you're staying,' she told him, 'you can go sit at the Gryffindor table with Miss Weasley.'

'Thanks,' Harry murmured.

McGonagall gifted him with a small smile. 'I rather imagine you'd be a bit bored at the staff table.' She patted him on the shoulder. 'Just because we tend to pile the responsibility of someone twice your age on your shoulders, it doesn't mean you need to adopt the lifestyle of one twice your age.'

'Too right,' Harry snorted.

McGonagall nodded, and quickened her pace to catch up with Shacklebolt, leaving Harry alone.

Harry walked into the Great Hall, trailing after McGonagall. He glanced at the Gryffindor table, but Ginny hadn't come down for lunch yet. Dean was sitting at one end, alone, morosely picking at a plate of beef casserole, reading a crumpled letter. Harry slid into a seat across from Dean. 'Hi,' Harry said.

'Hey...' Dean's attention dropped back to the letter. He folded it and shoved it into his bag, a pensive expression darkening his face.

'How's Seamus doing?' Harry asked curiously. 'Gin said you stayed with him a bit over the summer.'

'Fine,' Dean replied automatically.

'Oh, that's good. Maybe Ron and I can go up one weekend and see him.'

Dean's eyes dropped to his plate. 'I don't...' He paused and glanced down at his bag. A corner of the letter peeped out of a pocket of it. 'Yeah, maybe that would be good,' he said softly.

Harry noticed the sound of Dean's voice. 'Seamus isn't really fine, is he?'

Dean dragged his fork through his meal and silently shook his head. 'Not so much.' He pushed his plate away and picked up his bag. 'I need to go finish my homework for Flitwick.' He started to walk away from the table. 'It's like he's going to disappear,' he explained awkwardly, before walking out of the Great Hall.

Harry stared after Dean, absorbing what Dean had told him between the lines. He didn't notice Ginny had slid into the seat next to his until she spoke. 'This is a surprise,' she said, delighted.

Harry blinked a few times. 'Oh...' He shook his head and pushed Dean and Seamus to the back of his mind for the moment. 'Yeah, it is.'

Ginny ladled casserole onto Harry's plate, then her own. 'Did you come up with them?' she asked, gesturing toward the High Table, at the four plum-velvet clad Wizengamot personnel.

Harry couldn't help but grin at the disdainful tone of Ginny's voice. 'Sadly, yes. I tried to avoid it, but see the witch with the mousy hair?' Harry tilted his chin toward the witch at the end of the table.

'Yeah.'

'She was most insistent that I join them.' Harry's face twisted briefly in a grimace. 'But, I get to see you, so there's a good side.' He leaned closer and kissed the corner of Ginny's mouth, blushing at the hoots that traveled up the Gryffindor table and from the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables. They parted a little and Ginny picked up her fork. Harry watched her eat for a moment; his eyes straying to Dean's vacated plate. 'You and Dean talk, right?'

'Yeah, sometimes,' Ginny said. 'Why?'

'How's Seamus doing?'

Ginny laid her fork down and poured pumpkin juice into her goblet. 'Remember what you were like last summer?'

Perplexed, Harry nodded. 'Yeah, I do...'

'It's not quite like that,' Ginny hastily added. 'But Dean says he's... lost... He didn't come back to school, and Dean says he's not working.'

Harry reared back slightly. 'That doesn't sound like Seamus,' he murmured. The Seamus he knew might have publicly complained about his homework, but he always did it. He even managed to finish it early, and didn't put it off like he and Ron were wont to do. And given the few times he'd met Mrs. Finnigan, he didn't think Mrs. Finnigan was sitting idly by, allowing Seamus to loll about the house.

'Why do you want to know?' Ginny asked.

'Dean was here before you got here. He mentioned Seamus wasn't doing very well. I thought maybe Ron and I could go up, drop in on Seamus, talk him into taking in a game in Ballycastle or something,' Harry said, toying with his lunch.

'He had it pretty bad here last year,' Ginny commented. 'Gryffindor, Muggle father, best friend Muggle-born, friends with you...' she counted off on her fingers. 'A couple of times, he'd walk from one class to another, and he'd be right behind us, and then he'd be gone. Seamus would show up at dinner with fresh bruises and cuts. But he'd never talk about it, or go to Madam Pomfrey. Nev told me things got so bad, Seamus wouldn't sleep with the lights off in the dormitory. Almost set the curtains of his bed on fire more than once.' Her fingers tightened around the handle of her fork. 'Not like you haven't been through worse,' she added tentatively. 'But...'

'Yeah...' Harry sighed. He methodically took a bite of his casserole. 'So how's the team?' he said desperately, trying to change the subject.

Ginny shrugged. 'All right, I suppose. We took some time off after the last game, but we need to get back into training soon. Madam Pomfrey made me take two weeks off training after the game anyway.' Ginny reached under the table and ran her hand over the healed shin. 'Just as well. It hurt horribly for days afterward if I did more than a sedate walk.' She nudged Harry a little. 'When do you have to go back?'

'After lunch...' Harry glanced down at his watch. 'There's a hearing where I need to testify...'

'Another one?' Ginny breathed in dismay.

'Well, this one isn't so personal,' Harry tried to say with more conviction than he felt. 'It's for Lucius Malfoy.'

*****

It's not personal, my arse, Harry thought with amusement when he settled into a chair in a nondescript conference room in an area of Level Two Harry had never seen. The windowless room was dominated by a heavy wooden table that made the room feel far more claustrophobic than his broom cupboard had ever been. He sat at one side of the table, with his hands folded on top of it. While it looked as if he was calmly waiting for the two Wizengamot members to arrive, along with the Aurors who were assigned to escort Lucius Malfoy, Harry's mouth was painfully dry. If what I say here is leaked to the Daily Prophet before the trial... Harry wasn't here to testify against Lucius. He was here to testify for him.

Most people Harry knew would argue that Lucius needed to return to Azkaban for a nice long sentence. Preferably long enough so that when he came out, he could count the number of teeth still in his head on one hand. But to Harry that wasn't quite justice for what Lucius had done. Certainly, he'd had his hand in on a fair share of events in the past, but Lucius had already been tried for those crimes. It was illegal to try him again. But this time...

Harry was well aware of what Azkaban, guarded by Dementors, could do to a person. He'd seen it carved on Sirius' face, and Sirius at least was able to cling to the idea he was innocent, unhappy a thought as it was. Even though Harry hadn't seen much of Lucius in the last year, Lucius was undeniably a broken man. He looked as if he'd been in Azkaban for twenty years, rather than the one. And he hadn't improved in the time after his breakout, like Sirius had. If anything, he'd gotten worse. It made Harry wonder just what went through Lucius' mind when he'd been in prison. And if last year had been those thoughts acted out on a grand scale.

Harry gazed at the top of the table, tracing the grain of the highly polished surface with his eyes. Lucius was going to lose everything he held dear when this was all over, regardless of the outcome. His social status; his wealth; his influence with the Minister. He would be an outcast and if he was lucky, his wife and son would still acknowledge him. Narcissa had every right to demand the marriage be legally dissolved, due to Lucius' criminal activity. Harry wouldn't blame her if she did request it, if Lucius was sentenced to Azkaban for a long sentence.

The door opened to admit Evan Brierly, a soft-spoken, but burly Auror, who kept a meaty hand clamped gently around Lucius' upper arm. He guided Lucius into the room, and deposited him into one of the chair across the table from Harry. Harry was shocked. Lucius looked even worse than he had in May, as if he'd aged thirty years overnight. His hair had been shorn close to his head, and what was left had thinned considerably, leaving the top nearly bald. Deep lines fanned from the corners of his eyes and bracketed his mouth. 'Have you had a sufficient time to examine me, boy, or would you like more time?' Lucius drawled.

Harry felt one of his brows drift up, but he remained silent.

'I'm told you're here on my behalf,' Lucius continued. 'My, my, what would the others say if they knew what you were doing?' he mused idly.

It took all of Harry's self-control to not respond to Lucius veiled barbs. He dug the nail of one thumb into his other hand. He didn't want to give Lucius anything to use against him. Not even now.

Mercifully, the two Wizengamot wizards strode into the room just then. Unlike the four that had run Snape's hearings, these two were brisk in their efficiency. In a matter of minutes, they had arranged their things in preparation for the deposition Harry was to give. 'So, Mr. Potter,' one of them began. 'When did you realize Mr. Malfoy was not able to actively participate in activities with He-' He stopped and cleared his throat a bit self-consciously. 'Voldemort?'

Harry took a deep breath. 'The evening the members of the Order of the Phoenix came to fetch me from my relations' home...' he began, keeping his eyes firmly on the Wizengamot member, and not on Lucius.

*****

Harry stared glumly at the notice on his desk from Gibson. She was sending him to Northern Ireland in early January to relieve an Auror already in Belfast. The summer had brought a spate of sectarian incidents around the city, as well as a horrific bombing in the city of Omagh in August, despite of a cease-fire signed back in April. The Ministry wanted to rule out the possibility that Death Eaters and any supporters who might have escaped in the chaos in the aftermath of the battle were goading small flare-ups into larger skirmishes. 'She really hates me,' Harry muttered under his breath.

'Who hates you?' Peter craned his head over the top edge of the Harry's tiny cubicle. Harry handed Peter the notice from Gibson in mute reply. 'Hm.' Peter swiftly read the terse note. 'I thought you were supposed to attend the trials for Lucius and Draco Malfoy. Isn't Lucius Malfoy's is scheduled to begin on January nineteenth?'

'It is,' Harry said shortly. He was scheduled to testify for both of them.

Peter sighed and rubbed his forehead tiredly. 'Don't worry about it. We'll figure something out. I'll come take over for you for a couple of days if I have to.' He squinted at the parchment. 'She just did this,' he murmured. 'Five Knuts says the Minister and MLE don't know about this yet.'

'I don't want them to change it,' Harry said stubbornly.

Peter snorted. 'They won't. But they will make sure you're back here for the trials. I imagine Kingsley might make a fuss about it, though.'

Harry glanced behind Peter and his eyes widened briefly. 'Oh bloody hell,' he mouthed. Gibson was charging toward them in a manner that reminded Harry of the bad-tempered ewe that was pastured in a neighboring paddock from the Burrow.

Gibson came to an abrupt stop at Harry's cubicle. 'Potter, come with me,' she snapped. 'You, too, Wilson. You're responsible for him,' she added ominously. Harry and Peter shared confused looks as they trailed after Gibson to the lifts. They rode down to Level One in tense silence, Peter giving Harry questioning glances, and Harry shrugging in reply. Gibson led the way to a conference room near Shacklebolt's office and flounced angrily inside. Harry came to an abrupt stop in the doorway. Clustered at one end the large oblong table were Shacklebolt, Professor Carter, and Percy. Harry felt the blood drain from his face. He gulped and gingerly took a seat across the table from Shacklebolt.

'Why am I here?' Carter asked Shacklebolt quietly. 'Had to cancel my classes this afternoon because of it.'

Gibson slammed a purple folder on the table before Shacklebolt could answer, and pointed a shaking finger at Harry. 'Do you have any idea how close you are to unpaid suspension?' she nearly screeched.

Shacklebolt sighed and laid a placating hand on Gibson's arm. 'Christianne, would you mind telling us why you've called this meeting?' he asked.

'This!' she exclaimed, brandishing a letter in Shacklebolt's direction. 'Potter went off on his own, without any sort of permission from anyone at Hogwarts or the Ministry, and wrote to Gary Durbin at Salem, and started investigating Professor Carter's background!'

'Oh, so that's what this is all about?' Carter tipped his chair back on its rear legs. He shrugged. 'Gary wrote me two weeks ago about it. Thought I'd like to know someone over here was wantin' information.'

'And you neglected to tell anyone else?' Gibson hissed.

'Why would I?' Carter snorted. 'I figured it was part of the job. I'm surprised it didn't come up before.'

Gibson turned to Harry, a snarl on her face. 'That's the second time you've overstepped yourself, Potter,' she growled.

'You did this on your own?' Carter asked Harry.

'Yeah.'

To Harry's complete surprise, Carter burst out laughing - deep guffaws that echoed through the conference room. 'You're all fools,' he snickered. 'I've heard about the kinds of dregs they had to have at Hogwarts the past couple of years teaching Defense. I can't believe you'd just accept someone, on the Minister's say-so.' He glanced at Shacklebolt. 'Sorry, Kingsley. No offense.'

'None taken.' Kingsley smothered a grin behind his hand.

'Great day in the mornin'!' Carter exclaimed. 'That boy's got more balls in his pinky finger than your entire department. Like I said... You're all fools for not doin' a little diggin' into my qualifications. From what I hear, y'all only had about two decent teachers in the past ten years or thereabouts. And one of 'em got run off just for being a werewolf. What is it y'all say? Rubbish?'

'Werewolves--' began Gibson primly.

'Aw, hell. You oughta see what some of the Sioux kids that go to the school in Devil's Lake can do. They start shape-shiftin' before they start at Salem. Some of 'em can turn into grizzlies. All it takes is a few sensible precautions. And I'm told that particular person's priority was the students' safety. Everything I've been told about him is that he was a totally decent human being.

'And the other decent teacher was one of those Death Eaters in disguise. How in the hell did that get by you guys?'

'Because we weren't thinking like them,' Shacklebolt admitted.

'You shoulda been,' Carter huffed. 'And then you let a Ministry stooge in there, who didn't even teach... It's about time you got someone in here who doesn't take anythin' at face value.' Carter reached across the table. 'Good job, kid,' he said gruffly, holding his hand out to Harry.

Gibson stared at Carter for several seconds before she burst out, 'Are you mad?'

Percy, who had been silent to this point, spoke up. 'He's right.'

Gibson's eyes were bulging from her eye sockets. 'What?'

'Professor Carter. He's right. After everything that happened at Hogwarts and here, we ought to know better than to just let someone in without questions.' Percy shrugged. 'At the very least, we should have learned our lesson about that kind of thing.'

Peter glanced at Harry. 'You can go...' he murmured.

Harry nodded and pushed his chair back. He started to stand, when Carter opened his mouth. 'Hey, kid, why don't you and me go down to that bar y'all got and have a drink before I go back up to the school.'

Harry blinked. 'Okay...' He quickly walked out of the room, and went to the lifts. 'I'll just need to get my things...' he said to the older man.

'No rush.'

Harry didn't say anything as they rode the lifts to Level Two and he wound his way to his cubicle, and silently picked up his bag and coat. Once they were back on the lifts, Carter eyed Harry. 'How old are you, really?' he asked curiously. 'I mean, I've heard about you, but you can't really be as young as you say.'

Startled, Harry blurted, 'I'm eighteen. This past July.'

'Hm. You don't think like an eighteen-year old, kid.'

The corner of Harry's mouth turned up wryly. 'Thanks, I think...' He glanced at Carter. 'You didn't mind about me asking after you?'

The lift doors opened and Carter went through them. 'Nah. I'd have done the same thing if I'd been in your shoes. And you still have some friends up at the school, right?'

Harry nodded. 'Yeah. Ginny, Hermione, Luna, Dean...' The lift doors opened and Harry led the way to an exit to Diagon Alley. 'It's just after the last few years; I didn't want to take any chances...' He tapped the brick wall that opened The Leaky Cauldron with his wand and ducked into the alley when the wall split and rolled back. He wound through the dim, dark pub to the counter. 'Hiya, Tom,' he called. 'Two lagers, please.' Almost as if by magic, two pint glasses, filled with frothy lager appeared on the counter. Harry picked one up and peered into the corners, until he found a table where he could sit with his back to the wall, and keep an eye on both the front and back entrances.

Carter noticed and hid a smile by taking a sip of his drink. He grimaced and with a surreptitious look around the pub, tapped his glass with this wand. Frost appeared instantly on the outside of the glass. 'What is it y'all have got against cold beer?' he demanded.

Perplexed, Harry sampled his own lager. It was pleasantly cool, on the lower end of the typical cellar temperature Tom served his lagers and ales. 'It's fine,' he said.

'I mean really cold, kid,' Carter snorted. A plaintive expression drifted over Carter's face. He leaned closer to Harry. 'I don't suppose you could tell me where I can get a glass of iced tea?'

'Of what?'

'Iced tea... Sweet tea served over ice in a tall glass?' At Harry's continued baffled look, Carter waved it off. 'Oh, never mind. Just add it to the list of things I miss here. Can't wait for the winter holiday and I can go home for a while.'

'So how does your school work?' Harry asked curiously. 'I saw a group from Salem here for the Quidditch World Cup a few years ago.'

Carter took a long swallow of his lager. 'For starters, it's open year-round.'

'Why?'

'Some of our kids need a place to stay when we're not actually havin' classes. See, in some of the more conservative areas of the States, the parents spend years tryin' to find a way to cure their kid of magic. They think they're possessed by demons or somethin' and when they find out they can't, they call their kid an abomination of nature and kick 'em out. Disown 'em, too, sometimes...'

'I know how that feels...'

'Most of the kids go to the school in their region, but all the Native kids go to the school in Devils Lake. That's where they can get specialized magical training. Most of them go back home and become shamans for their tribes or they work in the Ministry's regional offices back home as a liaison between the tribe and the Ministry.

'Classes are pretty much the same, though. The Native kids take most of the normal subjects and a few extras that address their cultural needs.'

'Sounds complicated,' Harry observed.

'Nah. It's just the way it is.'

Harry drew a finger through the condensation filming the outside of the glass. 'How do you know Kingsley?'

'He's got a brother that teaches at the school in San Francisco.'

'Kingsley has a brother?' Harry asked in surprise.

Carter nodded with a chuckle. 'Yeah. He left England about ten years ago after trainin' here as an Obliviator. Showed up at the school in Massachusetts lookin' for a position. Just as well, the assistant Defense teacher in San Francisco had just quit to have a baby. So, Gary sent Gareth off to California, and he never looked back. He's the one that told me y'all were havin' problems fillin' the Defense position here.'

Harry stared at Carter for a long moment. 'Why did you just give up your job in St. Louis and come out here?'

Carter's face darkened slightly. 'Just needed a change,' he said into his glass. 'I'm not plannin' on stayin' here, though. Not long-term or anything.' He shook himself slightly and changed the subject. 'The DA?'

'Oh, well...' Harry blushed and took several long swallows of his drink. 'I didn't mean anything by it. Just wanted to make sure we didn't fail our exams.'

'You ever think about takin' the Defense job at Hogwarts?'

'Sometimes,' Harry admitted. 'But not often enough to really want it.'

'Hm,' grunted Carter. 'You ought to think about it some more. It takes a lot to get a bunch of fourteen and fifteen-year olds to produce corporeal Patronuses. Maybe when you get a few more years under your belt. And anyone who can get Luna Lovegood to focus long enough to actually create a corporeal Patronus has the means to be a pretty good teacher.' Carter hesitated a moment, then asked, 'Mind if I ask you a personal question...?'

Harry started a little. 'Erm. I suppose. Doesn't mean I have to actually answer it, does it?'

Carter grinned at Harry's answer. 'Why does Gibson hate you so much?'

Harry shrugged his shoulders. 'You mean other than the fact I skipped my last year of school, don't have N.E.W.T.s, and skipped three extra years of training to become a full Auror? I have no idea,' Harry drawled sarcastically. 'I'm surprised you didn't think of that yourself.'

'I did, but after everythin' you've done, I didn't think anybody would be quite so petty.'

Harry snorted. 'Sometimes, I don't blame her. I'd be upset if I had to suddenly treat some wet-behind-the-ears pup fresh out of school like an equal. Especially a pup with an issue following rules.'

Cater shook his head. 'For what it's worth, I don't think you're doing anything wrong. Most Aurors I've known tend to bend the rules from time to time...' He pushed his chair back and stood up. 'If you still want to come up for some classes with the seventh years, you're more than welcome.' He gave Harry's shoulder a brief squeeze. 'Don't let her get to you. She reminds me of someone who hasn't done field work in a long time, or a school administrator who's been out of the classroom so long, they were still waiting to teach hinkypunks in fifth year the last time they taught a class.' He turned to leave the Leaky Cauldron, then paused. 'Gary's going to send a report on me to Minerva and a copy to you.'

'Thanks...'

'See ya, kid.' Carter strode to the back of the Leaky Cauldron and disappeared through the door.