Harry Potter and the Antiquity Link

Chapter 5

Dudley's Letter

Harry was sorely tempted to put off until tomorrow the matter of the Dursleys, but he felt that if he did that, he would never get around to it. He had one lead: Smeltings.

Taking his Invisibility Cloak, he Apparated to 4 Privet Drive. It looked as immaculate as it had the day he'd left, except for the heavy layers of dust covering every surface. He thought about removing some of the dust with magic, but quickly realized that if he did some of it but not all, Petunia would complain when they got back. Better to do nothing, he thought, with a mild, resigned curse for the fate that had caused him to be raised by such a family.

He searched Dudley's bedroom, hoping that important records hadn't been removed. Finding nothing, he searched the rest of the house, but apparently the Dursleys had taken paperwork with them. He considered what to do, then rolled his eyes in annoyance at himself as he realized the obvious solution: call directory assistance.

Picking up the phone, he was again annoyed with himself as he realized that there was no dial tone. Of course, they'd have had it disconnected. He felt as if living in the Muggle world was a language he'd grown up with, but deteriorated due to disuse. Hoping it would work, he pointed his wand at the phone, and was rewarded with a dial tone. He got the phone number for Smeltings, called the school, and got its location.

He Apparated to Smeltings, and using the Suggestion Charm to cause those he met to be unusually helpful, soon was meeting with the deputy headmaster. A balding, humorless middle-aged man, he told Harry that Dudley had suddenly dropped out three months ago. Dudley had not been doing well in school, the man said, but had been expected to barely manage to graduate. He could think of no reasons for Dudley's actions, and didn't seem to care much.

Getting the location of Dudley's dormitory, he went there to talk to Dudley's former roommates. They didn't know much more; Dudley had suddenly left one day. He had taken his most important possessions with him, so Harry was at least relieved to know that no foul play was involved. They referred him to a boxing gym that Dudley sometimes trained at.

Starting to feel like a private detective, like the kind he'd seen on TV who were always tracking people down and following leads, he went to the gym. Dudley wasn't there, but the manager was able to give him (again, under magical duress) an address. He reached the apartment and found a roommate who said Dudley wasn't in, suggesting first that he try the gym, then a park he was known to kill time in.

At the park, he finally found Dudley sitting on a bench facing an empty football pitch, three footballs lying a few yards in front of him. He walked over, using the Invisibility Cloak just in case Dudley saw him coming and tried to run away. After all this work, thought Harry, I'm not letting him get away.

When he was ten feet behind Dudley, he took off the Cloak and walked to Dudley's side with a wide berth, hoping not to startle him. "Dudley?"

Dudley turned his head quickly, and his mouth hung open. "Harry?"

Harry nodded. "How are you doing?" he asked, trying to sound casual.

Dudley stood, still shocked, and walked toward Harry. To Harry's great surprise, Dudley reached out to touch Harry's shoulder, then backed his hand away, as if remembering that he was doing something he shouldn't. Then, apparently abandoning all restraint, he lunged forward and threw himself onto Harry, wrapping him in a hug.

Harry was floored; he would have been less surprised if a large rabbit had appeared and told him he had to Hop to Heaven. Slowly, he reached an arm out to pat Dudley on the back. He didn't know Dudley's exact emotional state, but understood from his expression that it wasn't happiness. "It's okay, Dudley," he said. "Let's have a seat, okay?"

An embarrassed Dudley let go of Harry, and they sat on the bench. Harry could see that Dudley was very emotional, trying to hide it but not coming close to succeeding. "Dudley, what happened? What's going on?"

Dudley was a large young man, but his voice was small and confused. Nothing, Harry thought, like the arrogant and spoiled child he had known for so long; this was more like the Dudley he had seen most recently when saying goodbye, but even more emotional and unsure of himself. Dudley stared at the ground, silent for a few minutes. Harry waited patiently, wondering what in the world this was all about.

Dudley finally spoke, his voice quiet, laden with emotion. "I... after it happened, I wanted to find you, I wanted to talk to you. I went back to Privet Drive, even though I knew it was dangerous. I tried to use the fireplace, looked for some clue about where you might be, searched all over... I didn't find anything, I knew I wouldn't. And now, here you are. Why are you here, anyway? How did you find me?"

Harry felt that Dudley had something to tell him, but was putting it off. He described the afternoon's detective work, then remembering Dudley's first question, added, "The Voldemort thing... it's over. He's dead, our side won. Things... well, aren't perfect, but are much better. I was looking for you and your parents, to tell you that it's over, that you can go back to your normal lives."

Dudley took a deep breath. "I wish it was that easy."

Harry was now extremely curious. "Dudley, what happened?" he asked again.

Dudley seemed to want to speak, but kept opening his mouth, then hesitating, as if the words wouldn't come. Finally, slowly, they did. "It... it was about three months ago," he began. "We were renting a place up north, near Manchester. It was a long weekend, I was home for a visit." He took another deep breath, paused, then continued.

"It happened so fast, I just had no idea what was going on. It was like it happened to someone else. I was standing in the living room, Dad was watching TV, Mum was in the kitchen. Just like always." Another pause; Harry waited patiently but expectantly. "All of a sudden, he was just there. Appeared, out of thin air."

"Who?"

"I didn't catch his name."

"I mean--"

"I know what you mean," said Dudley. "He was wearing a dark robe, and a kind of a hood. He pointed a wand at me, and said that word. I don't know what it was, it sounded like 'abracadabra.'"

Harry's mouth fell open; how had Dudley survived? "Avada Kedavra," he said. "It's called the Killing Curse."

Dudley nodded. "Somehow I knew that, even though I didn't. It was the way he said it, like a guy on TV might say 'you're dead' when he shoots you. Anyway... the next thing I knew, I was behind him."

Confused, Harry assumed Dudley had explained it incorrectly. "You mean, he turned around?"

"No," said Dudley gravely. "I mean, I was standing in one place, in front of him, and then I was suddenly standing behind him. The curse was about to hit me when it happened."

A chill went through Harry; his jaw dropped. "Oh, my God..." He now felt he understood what had shaken Dudley so badly. Raised as he was by people who hated wizards, it couldn't have been a pleasant thing to find out. "Then what happened?"

"He turned around. He was really surprised, but probably not as much as I was. Everything was happening on reflex. Somebody attacks you, what do you do? I hit him. One punch, laid him out. He's lying there, on his side, he'd dropped his wand."

Harry still wondered how Dudley and his family had escaped; their assailant, even wandless, could have made his way back to Voldemort, who would have sent more wizards. He knew there was more to the story. "And then?"

"I was in shock; at that time, I don't think I had really understood what had happened," Dudley said, still speaking quietly and slowly. "But I was also really angry. Somebody had tried to kill me. He reached for his wand. I reached down fast, grabbed it, pointed it at him. It was almost like, like I said, a reflex... this bright orange stuff, like... I don't know, liquid fire, I'd never seen anything like it, came shooting out of the wand..." Dudley swallowed. "Suddenly, half his face looked like it had been in the oven too long. He was dead."

Oh, my God, Harry thought but this time did not say. Oh, my God... Now Harry understood why Dudley had dropped out of school, spent his days sitting in a park. He imagined what Dudley had gone through. "It wasn't your fault, Dudley," Harry said gently. "You didn't even know you could do it. You couldn't control it. It wasn't your fault."

The expression on Dudley's face told Harry that Dudley had been waiting a long time to hear someone say that, but at the same time, wasn't sure whether he believed it. "Mum absolutely freaked. Started making noises, but nothing I could understand as words. Dad looked at me as if I was some creature from another planet that had taken over his son." He glanced up at Harry. "I wasn't sure he was wrong. I felt like it was all a dream, except I knew I wasn't going to wake up. But it had that feeling.

"Then, it starts dawning on me that there's a dead body in the living room, which is going to be hard to explain to the police if we call them. I've watched enough TV shows to know not to touch the body. I was wondering what to do about it when I realized I could use the wand. I pretended I was holding the end of a rope, and I started dragging it. His body started moving. Mum screamed at me to stop. I said something like, what were you planning to tell the police when they come to pick this up? I kept on moving it, and got it into the backseat of the car. I drove to someplace abandoned, and dragged it out. I checked the pockets, the robe, to make sure he hadn't written down our address, or anything else connected to us. He hadn't." He paused again. "I haven't been back home since then."

Harry was surprised. "Why not? They had to know it wasn't your fault."

Dudley looked at Harry as if Harry were slow-witted. "You, of all people, shouldn't have to ask that question. You know how they feel about wizards. I knew they'd never want to see me again."

"I really doubt that," said Harry.

"Are you kidding?" shot back Dudley. "Why should they?"

"You're their son. They love you."

Dudley laughed derisively. "They loved me because I wasn't you! Now I am you! Worse than you!" At Harry's raised eyebrows, Dudley waved a hand dismissively. "You know what I mean. To them. At least, you used that to save my life. I used it to kill someone. What does that make me?"

"Someone who did what he had to do," responded Harry forcefully. "Did it occur to you, Dudley, that if you hadn't done that, you and your family would be dead?"

"Well, maybe, but--"

"Not maybe. No doubt at all. He would've reported back, and Voldemort would've sent out a team. Dudley," Harry said, now more gently, "The wizard who helped you go into hiding is now dead, and I think I can piece together what happened. They caught him, almost certainly tortured him, and killed him after he finally told them your location. The Dark wizard who tortured him, probably the only one who knew the information, went to your house. He was going to kill you, then torture your parents, who didn't know anything. Finally realizing that--and who knows how much torture it would have taken for him to be sure--they enjoy that sort of thing--he would have killed them. There's just no doubt. I think you reacted instinctively, but not out of evil--out of self-protection, yourself and your family. You saved their lives."

Dudley shook his head. "Maybe, but... there's something else. When I did that, whatever I did, there was this feeling of... power, of pleasure. It felt good to get back at him for what he had done. I'm sure good wizards don't feel that way."

Harry never would have imagined that he would feel bad for Dudley as he did now. "Dudley... I'm going to tell you something I've never told anyone, and I'd like you not to repeat it." Surprised, Dudley nodded. "Last week, an enemy, a really bad wizard, spat in the face of someone I liked and respected. I was so angry that I did a spell that tortures someone." Dudley's eyes went wide. "Only for a second or two. He'd tortured lots of other people, and I knew that, so I felt like he deserved it. And unlike you, I did it consciously, it wasn't reflexive. And I felt very satisfied right after I did it. It wasn't until later that I started to feel bad.

"Later that night, I defeated Voldemort in a duel, and now I'm a hero in the wizarding world. People want to meet me, shake my hand, give me awards. I get letters telling me how wonderful I am. But still, I did that. You know, Dudley, what's the difference between a good wizard who does what I did, and a bad one?"

Dudley shook his head.

"The good ones," said Harry, "feel bad about it later. The bad ones don't."

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Looking down, Dudley suddenly said, "I wasn't very nice to you. For a long time."

Harry understood from Dudley's tone that it had been a very difficult thing for him to say. "Do you feel bad about it?"

Slowly, Dudley nodded. "See, there you are," said Harry. Dudley chuckled a little. "That proves your point, huh?"

"I think so," said Harry.

After another pause, Dudley spoke again. "There's something else I wanted to tell you. Like I said, I went back to Privet Drive, and looked through anything they'd left there, any records. I found this."

He handed Harry an envelope; he recognized it as being from Hogwarts, the letter inviting Harry to attend Hogwarts. Harry chuckled. "We got dozens of these, I'm sure you remember. Why did she keep this one?"

"Open it."

Harry did, and it was the same letter he remembered... except that the name of the one being invited to attend Hogwarts was Dudley Dursley. Harry was even more shocked to see this than he was to hear that Dudley had done magic.

"Yeah, I felt like that, only more so," said Dudley, clearly having noted Harry's expression. "I wonder... how my life would have been..."

"I can really understand that," Harry agreed.

Dudley turned to Harry. "I want to see your world."

Harry could understand that too. "I'll talk to some people. There must be other cases like this, where people who should have gone to Hogwarts didn't. Maybe adult education classes, like that. I'll look into it."

"Don't tell anyone..."

"I understand," Harry assured him. "Don't worry, I won't. It's funny; you killed a bad guy, for sure. If people knew, you'd be a little bit of a hero, too. Not many people fought back."

"I don't want people to think I'm a hero. Not for this."

"Join the club," said Harry. "We'll have to get you a wand, of course."

Dudley shrugged. "This one seems to work fine," he said, pulling from his jacket the wand he'd taken from the Death Eater. He pointed it at the footballs, which rose two feet into the air and started moving horizontally, equidistant on the edge of an imaginary circle. They moved for ten seconds, then fell to the ground.

"That's really good," said Harry, impressed. "I'm not sure I could do that."

"You probably could if it was the only thing you tried to do, two hours a day, for three months," said Dudley. "I come here, at this time, because nobody's ever here, and because I want to get away from people. I feel like there's a good reason to do this, but I'm not sure what it is."

"It's a very good idea," agreed Harry. "It gives you discipline, control over your power. You need to learn..."

"So it doesn't happen again," finished Dudley.

Harry nodded. "Partly, yes."

"Tell me about your world," asked Dudley.

"I will, but I'm afraid I can't right now. I have to get back. It took a long time to find you, and I still need to talk to your parents. Tomorrow I'll talk to some people, and see what should be done. I'll come back here at, let's say, three, and let you know. Is there anything you'd like me to tell your parents?"

Dudley thought for a minute, then shook his head. Harry felt like telling him he should say something, but held back; he hadn't liked it when Molly did it to him. Also, he knew Dudley's parents, and that his fear about their reactions might well be justified. He nodded, and stood.

Dudley did, as well. "Do you mind if I hang onto this?" Harry asked, holding up the Hogwarts letter. "It'll make whoever I talk to take your situation more seriously."

"Sure." Harry asked for Vernon and Petunia's address; Dudley wrote it out. He handed Harry the paper, then offered his hand. "Thanks, for... everything."

Feeling great sympathy for Dudley, Harry shook it firmly. "Tomorrow, at three." Dudley nodded, and Harry Disapparated.

* * * * *

Harry rang the doorbell of the Dursleys' new home, then magically unlocked and unbolted it, pushing the door open. He had decided that he would not observe politeness and pleasantries, because he knew they wouldn't. Anger on Dudley's behalf fueled him.

The first thing he saw was Vernon, standing from his seat in front of the TV, shouting to Petunia. "Petunia, call--" He cut himself off as he recognized Harry; Petunia came running into the living room. "You can call the police if you want," said Harry indifferently. "It wouldn't do you much good."

"That's usually what you do when your home is broken into," shouted Vernon defensively. "You people don't think you have to knock?"

"Yes, because you've always been so polite to me in the past," Harry retorted snidely. "I didn't think you'd invite me in for tea."

"It's our decision who we invite into our home--"

"Fine, I won't be long. I'm here to tell you that it's all over. Voldemort is dead, there's no more reason for you to worry about your safety. You can go back to Privet Drive."

"Just like that," Vernon said mockingly.

What the hell do they want me to say, thought Harry. "Well, it's a very long story how it happened, quite a spellbinder, according to a bartender I told it to. But I don't think you'd want to hear it."

"How did you find us?" asked Petunia sharply.

"I found Dudley. He gave me the address."

Vernon and Petunia exchanged startled looks. "How--" started Petunia, who cut herself off, seemingly torn between the impulses to ask about Dudley, and not wanting to admit she needed any information from Harry.

"He's fine, thanks. He sends his love," Harry replied, his sarcasm much thicker than necessary. He could see on their faces their concern that Harry had learned a terrible secret. He gave full vent to his disgust and frustration. "I swear to God, you two have to be the worst parents in history. Dudley would have been better off if you'd beaten the crap out of him every day."

"How dare you--" Vernon roared, but Harry cut him off with equal vehemence.

"How dare I?" he repeated incredulously. "Your son is out there, alone, with major problems. He accidentally killed someone." Vernon and Petunia looked at each other again, stricken, their fears confirmed: someone else knew. "I saw someone murdered, and it was really bad for me. What do you suppose it's like for him? Did you even bother to check on him? Find out what he's up to?"

"He ran away!" shouted Vernon. "We checked with his school, they didn't know where to find him."

"I found him! Didn't take long, and I didn't use magic!" Well, not much, he added to himself. "You could if you wanted to, but you don't want to. And the worst thing is, it's not because he killed someone. That was an accident, and you know that. It's because your worst fear had come true. Dudley is a wizard."

"He is not a wizard!" screeched Petunia, nearly hysterical.

"They don't give these to just anyone!" said Harry, reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out the Hogwarts letter. "They didn't give it to you!"

He didn't think a person could look as shocked as Petunia did. "How... you're crazy!" she yelled, recovering slightly.

Ah, thought Harry. Denial. Whatever. He didn't care whether she admitted it or not. Vernon reached over and grabbed the letter from Harry's hand; Harry made no effort to stop him. "Don't--" she sputtered. "It's a trick, it's fake..."

"You're pitiful," Harry said to Petunia contemptuously. A lot of the anger and frustration Harry had felt over the past year, that he had bottled up, was now coming out. A part of him knew it, but he didn't care. They deserved it, especially Petunia. "You didn't even tell him," he said, gesturing to Vernon, on whose face shock was deepening as he read the letter. "Just because your sister got something you didn't get, just because some boy broke a tree branch and hurt you..." The blood drained from her face; Vernon, having finished the letter, stared at Petunia. "You've spent a lifetime convincing yourself that wizards are awful, terrible people, all because of that. Well, you have one thing in common with the boy who hurt you, who found Dumbledore's letter to you. You both spent years taking it out on me for something someone else did to you. You'd better start getting used to it: this is a part of you, a part of your family. Don't like it? Too bad!"

Distraught, Petunia bolted, running for the stairs. She raced up them faster than he would have thought she could. He heard a door slam.

He was alone with Vernon, with whom he had no desire to talk. "I need that back," he said simply, reaching for the letter. Mute, stunned, Vernon paused for a few seconds, looked at it again, then handed it to Harry. "Where did you find that?"

"Dudley found it," Harry replied, and briefly explained the circumstances. "He was looking for me, he needed to talk to me. He was confused, scared. I'd think you could understand why. He didn't ask for this. It's just who he is."

"You talked to Dudley." Harry nodded. "Why didn't he come back here?"

"He thinks that's the reaction he's going to get," Harry answered, gesturing upstairs. "I couldn't exactly tell him it was nonsense. He saw how you and she treated me all those years, because I was a wizard--"

"That wasn't the reason--"

"Then why hasn't Dudley come back?" Harry said scornfully. "Tell yourself what you want, I don't care. Banish him from here, or take him back; I don't care about that either. But don't you dare take him back on the condition that he not use magic, not be a wizard. This is who he is. Your wife tried to hide the truth from him, and look what happened. There's a reason boys and girls go to Hogwarts: to learn to control it. That wouldn't have happened if he'd known what he was. But she can't accept it. You have to decide whether you can." He turned to leave.

He was at the front door when Vernon spoke again, as if suddenly afraid that Harry would leave before he could speak. "Where is he?"

Harry believed Vernon truly wanted to know, but his disdain for him was enough that he wasn't inclined to make it easy for him. "I found him, without magic. You can, too. Think of it as something you need to make an effort for if you want your son back." Deciding to give Vernon one last reminder of what he was dealing with, instead of leaving by the front door as he'd intended, he Disapparated.

* * * * *

Upon Harry's return to Grimmauld Place, Kreacher informed him that Molly had come by to invite Harry to a large family dinner planned for that evening. Kreacher had planned to have dinner ready for Harry upon his return, but had halted his plans pending Harry's answer. Harry thanked Kreacher, and told him that he would eat at the Weasleys'.

He soon took the fireplace over, and was surprised and pleased to find every Weasley there except, of course, Ginny. Hermione, who seemed to have more or less taken up residence there, and Fleur were there as well, as was Fred's ghost. Molly explained that now that things were back to normal, and only one Weasley was attending Hogwarts, she wanted to institute a weekly custom in which the whole family would get together for dinner.

Asked about his day, Harry told them some of what had happened with Dudley, telling them that at Dudley's request, much of what had happened would be kept between them. He told them just that Dudley had Apparated without intending to, and that he had discovered that he had been invited to Hogwarts. Harry told them mainly because he felt he needed guidance regarding what to do in the situation. Molly told him that the Ministry had a social services department whose responsibility it was to deal with such situations, and that she would get in contact with them.

"What I'm surprised by, though, is the fact that Dumbledore allowed it, took no for an answer," said Arthur. "They lean pretty hard on parents to allow their children to go to Hogwarts, and for good reason. They don't know how to use their ability, can sometimes even kill people by accident." Harry struggled to remain expressionless. "There was never any indication?"

"Not that I ever saw," said Harry. "Probably it happened, and Petunia tried hard to find some other explanation for it, maybe blamed it on me. No way could her Duddykins ever become anything but a perfect child."

"She called him that?" asked Ron. "Now, I'm starting to feel sorry for him."

"Anyway," Harry continued, "I can imagine why Dumbledore did what he did. He knew Petunia and Vernon hated magic, and that the only way he was going to get Dudley away from there was by force. Petunia would have just lost it, and he needed their cooperation in keeping me safe. I'd guess he had his priorities, and he didn't want to push it."

"I guess this is going to be pretty hard for him," commented Hermione.

You don't know the half of it, he thought. "Yeah, especially since he was raised to think that wizards are lower than pond scum."

"Well, Harry," said Molly, "I'm sure you're exaggerating--"

Harry surprised himself with his own vehemence. "I'm not," he exclaimed. "I'm really not. Arthur, you remember things being thrown at you, right?"

Arthur nodded. "And after you left, there were some insults bandied about, mostly relating to the fact that we were magical people. So, I can believe what Harry says."

"I didn't mean I disbelieved him," said Molly in a chastising tone. "It's just that we all exaggerate occasionally."

"But nobody exaggerated at the funeral, right?" put in Fred, hovering near the table, behind George. "You meant what you said."

"Well, I didn't," said George casually. "Of course, I made that quite clear at the time."

"Be quiet, you two," said an irritated Molly. Harry grinned at Ron; it was nice to have Fred back. "Harry, maybe you should invite him over for dinner tomorrow night. It would be a good way to introduce him to the magical world."

Harry's eyebrows went up; he would never have thought of it. "Good one, Mum," said George. "You can tell Harry thinks it's a great idea." Ron couldn't help but chuckle.

"I was just surprised," Harry said to George. "I don't know how he'd react to it. No reason why not, though. Well, one thing." He gestured to Fred and George. "You two can't be here."

"Harry!" protested Fred. "Didn't anyone tell you that you should always speak well of the dead?"

"Fred, that's the third time you've said that today," said Molly.

"Yes, but it's the first time he's heard it."

"Sorry, guys, I don't mean any offense," Harry said apologetically. "But Dudley is in a weird place mentally, and the last thing he needs is to worry about which body part is going to suddenly become huge."

Ron exchanged a big grin with Fred and George. "Well, if he's lucky--" began Fred.

"Fred!" his mother exclaimed indignantly.

"Now, Fred," said Arthur, "What did I always tell you two about situations like this?"

In unison, the twins replied, "It's bad form to make a joke that's so obvious everyone is already thinking it."

"Exactly. I know, it's hard to resist when it's just sitting there, but you have to try."

"Oh, Charlie," said Ron, "I wanted to ask, did they ever find that dragon?"

"Not as far as I know," he replied. "But the gossip in the dragoning community is that the goblins are trying to do this very quietly. Normally, we all know who's doing what. But nobody's saying anything about this, which means the goblins have strongly emphasized secrecy, which means that they almost certainly intend to tell no one if they get it back."

Puzzled, Ron asked, "But how could they get it back in there with no one seeing? We'll have to know when they get it back."

Charlie shook his head. "It's possible, but difficult, to move a dragon with a Portkey. It could be back there already, for all we know."

"Some of us were talking about this at the Ministry today, at lunchtime," said Arthur. "The goblins seem to be taking an extraordinarily hard line about this, harder than they really should. It's like they're spoiling for a fight. Bill, I know you're not there anymore, but did you hear anything today?"

"Besides the slowdown? No, but it's not surprising. I don't plan to talk ask my former colleagues about that, because I don't want to get them in trouble. As I said, I quit because I didn't want to take Veritaserum, but I won't be the only one asked to do so. I want them to be able to say that they haven't told me anything."

"That sounds awfully harsh, routinely questioning people under Veritaserum, for no reason," noted Percy. "Why do they put up with it?"

"The goblins haven't always been like this. It used to be that you did your job, did it well, they left you alone. They didn't care who you said what to. They would only use Veritaserum in extreme cases, like if there was a big theft. They wanted it known that they would do it occasionally, just to keep people honest. But yeah, this is quite a change for them. If I had to guess, I'd say... Goblin politics are pretty complex, but the rumor was before that hard-liners had come into power recently. These are people, well, goblins, for whom it would be almost impossible to say, well, we lost a dragon, c'est la vie, it was in a good cause. Combining that with the goblins' literal interpretations of the law and anti-human bias, this isn't shocking to anyone who understands them reasonably well. Their myopia blinds them to the bad will they're engendering among humans, particularly regarding how Harry is viewed. I think they took this hard line partly because Kingsley didn't personally come to the negotiating table; they know the Minister has much bigger clout than anyone else, and no one else can deliver on an agreement. But Kingsley hasn't come, and now they're finding it hard to back down."

"Word around the Ministry," added Arthur, "is that in addition to having so many critical things to worry about, human public opinion is encouraging Kingsley not to hurry to negotiate with them. Their demands are viewed as extremely unreasonable, and in the case of Harry's arrest, despicable. Right now, Kingsley would look very bad just sitting down with them, never mind making any concessions. I heard that he's going to respond very aggressively to the slowdown; he more or less has to, or he'll look weak to the humans who can't get their gold out of Gringotts, and will be looking for someone to blame. Kingsley will make sure that it's the goblins, rather than him."

"Wow," said Ron. "Harry, I told you we should have returned that dragon to Gringotts. Too bad we don't have our own bank. Bill, why is there no wizards' bank, I mean, run by wizards?"

"Well, the goblins are very good at banking, for one thing. Also, they've been doing it for so long--longer than any of us has been alive--that people think of them when they think of banking. I don't know if anyone has even tried, but they couldn't really compete against Gringotts."

"If anyone were so inclined, now would certainly be an auspicious time for them to try," said Arthur wryly.

Harry was suddenly curious. "If someone was going to start a bank, how much money would they need to do it?"

Bill raised his eyebrows at the question. "Hmmm... I suppose, at least a million Galleons, but it would depend on how much service they wanted to provide. Two would be better; it would make people feel more secure."

"And if... I mean, let's say someone had that kind of money, they wanted to start a bank, and they wanted you to run it. Would you do it?" Ron's eyes went wide as he clearly realized that Harry wasn't speaking hypothetically.

Bill chuckled. "Sure. Do you have two million Galleons?"

Harry stared at Bill, giving no response. Bill looked quizzical for a moment, then laughed. "Fred, George, I think you're influencing Harry too much."

Harry had never seen George look so surprised. "Um, Bill, I don't think he's joking. This is the kind of look he had when he gave us the gold for the shop."

"Harry," said Molly, mildly reproachfully, "I've been in your vault. I know you have a lot of money, but it isn't close to two million."

Still stunned, Ron said, "Yes, but you haven't been in the Black family vault, which Harry now controls. He has more than enough."

Bill and Fleur stared at each other, astonished, then back at Harry. "Are you serious?" asked Bill.

Harry shrugged. "What am I going to do with three million Galleons?"

"Is that a trick question?" asked Fred.

"Yeah, I mean," added George, "you hear it about as often as 'I wish all these sexy naked women would leave me alone.'"

"I don't know about the rest of you," said Percy, "but I quite like the idea. Give the goblins a little competition, and they might not be so arrogant."

"How would they react, Bill?" asked Charlie.

"I have no idea," said Bill. He looked at Harry intently. "You're really serious?"

Harry noticed that it was the second time Bill had asked the question, so he'd better answer it. "Yes, I'm serious. Why not? Maybe start out by giving loans to the people who won't be able to get their money out of Gringotts."

"Or," put in Ron excitedly, "give loans to the Muggle-borns who lost everything! They could really use it!"

"Oh, that's a great idea!" squealed Hermione, looking at Ron admiringly.

"Yeah, I think so too," agreed Harry.

Bill held up a hand. "Hey, before you three get too excited about this idea, I should remind you that a bank is a commercial enterprise, not a charity. You won't stay in business long if you look at it in terms of helping the deserving."

"Do you mean you can't help the deserving and make money at the same time?" asked Harry.

Bill thought for a few seconds. "I mean that profit has to come first. Having said that, Ron's idea isn't bad. But we'd have to be careful, because some of them don't have jobs. The loans would have to be for specific purposes, like getting or renting a place, that sort of thing, and they'd have to agree to repayment being taken directly from their wages. But it could work..." He trailed off, lost in thought.

Fleur smiled at Harry. "I think you have persuaded him. He may be a businessman, but I think he cannot resist the chance to do good."

"Well, I can't do too good, or else this bank wouldn't last very long. Harry, one last time, are you--"

"Yes, I'm serious! Why do you think I asked about a bank? I think it's a great idea! That money is just sitting in the Blacks' vault, probably has been for centuries, God only knows how they got it, and it could be doing something useful. And Percy's right, it wouldn't be bad for the goblins to have a little competition. They might decide this slowdown isn't such a good idea after all."

"But, Bill," said Charlie, "you've always said that the goblins are cutthroat competitors. Are they really going to stand by and do nothing while a rival bank opens?"

Bill didn't appear worried. "They might be so arrogant that they'd think it wouldn't be a threat. But the only way they could fight would be by providing better service, and if they do that, then fine. I don't imagine that this bank could rival Gringotts in the next ten years; it could be a small thing, not much overhead, mainly to provide an alternative.

"Harry, how do you access the gold?" Harry told him; Bill looked unhappy. "Well, that's not exactly ideal. It might, in the future, be necessary to access it several times a day, and I wouldn't want to be bothering you all the time, or you might be away, or whatever."

Harry gave a light shrug. "There's an easy way around that."

Ron made a sound between a chuckle and a snicker; Harry looked at him inquiringly. "I know what you're going to say," said Ron confidently. Harry gestured for him to go ahead and say it.

Ron looked down the table. "Before I do, can anyone else guess?" No one spoke. "Bill's going to become half-owner of Grimmauld Place," said Ron.

Harry pointed a finger at him. "Exactly."

"That doesn't work," said Bill. "We just bought this house, and I don't have nearly enough money to buy half of another."

Ron shook his head. "Bill, you're thinking the way normal people think, but this is Harry. He's not going to sell you half of Grimmauld Place, he's going to give it to you."

Eyebrows high, Bill looked at Harry, who nodded. "Why not? It solves the problem, and it would mainly be on paper; it's not like you two would live there."

There were a lot of surprised looks around the table. "You know, Harry," said Percy, "I say this with all respect and affection... you really are a slightly peculiar fellow."

This got laughter around the table, especially from Fred and George. "Thank you, Percy," said Harry dryly, but pleased that Percy had made another joke. "I appreciate it."

"See, Hermione and I have known this for quite a while," joked Ron. "Fred and George, they found out a few years ago."

"Or," suggested Fred, "maybe once you've walked to your death, Galleons don't seem all that important." Harry couldn't argue, though it was another subject that he preferred not to contemplate. Even so, he couldn't help but wonder exactly what did seem important. Except for his friendship with Ron and Hermione, nothing really came to mind.

Bill became more and more energized about the idea as the evening went on, mulling over various practical considerations and warning Harry and Ron that this was not going to happen instantly, and that no one should start spreading the word. Forms would have to be made, a location chosen, a few staff hired, Concealment charms investigated, and so forth. A way would have to be found to persuade people that their money would be safe, even in the absence of magic-proof vaults.

After an hour's discussion in the living room, Bill came to a conclusion. "Harry, I can think of one good way to deal with the question of needing forms and equipment that can't be tampered with by magic. I'd like you to learn, and do, anti-tampering charms with the Elder Wand. If you did, we could be sure that there would be no way to change, forge, or otherwise commit fraud with those items by using magic."

"I don't know, Bill," he said uncomfortably. "I've already made a decision not to use it, and I don't want to start making exceptions. The only reason I still have it is that I haven't gotten around to getting rid of it yet."

"That reminds me, Harry," said Ron, "that I was going to tell you that your idea of where to leave it wasn't so great. I mean, everyone knows you have it, you talked about it with Voldemort before he died, you took it from him. It was in the Prophet, and criminals wouldn't mind trying to get it for themselves. If you put it back there, how long do you think it'll be before bad guys come after it? Even if you put lots of magical protection on it, it's difficult to put so much protection on something that it literally can't be gotten into."

"But nobody would know where it was," protested Harry.

"People would think of looking there, especially since because of your conversation, it's known that he was using it when he died. And when they couldn't get into it, they'd be sure it was there, and just try harder."

"He's right, Harry," put in Hermione. "I'd been thinking the same thing. It would be very hard to find a place where you could be 100% sure that it could never be found. There are possibilities: throw it into a volcano, encase it with lead and send it to the bottom of the ocean, bury it in the snow of Antarctica, things like that--"

"Quite an imagination you have," said an impressed Ron.

"Thank you. But it could always be found, and I don't think it can be destroyed, and... I hate to say this, but there's always the possibility of someone capturing and torturing you for the wand's location. If you have and use the wand, that becomes a lot less likely. I understand why you don't want to use it, but I really think the alternatives are worse."

Annoyed, Harry sighed; he couldn't see a flaw in their reasoning. "So, you're saying that I should have just dueled with Voldemort and kept my mouth shut."

Hermione's tone was apologetic. "We understand why you did it. I'm sure it was satisfying to talk to him like that, tell him you knew what he did wrong, what he missed. But, yes, it would have saved you a lot more trouble later on."

Harry was silent, thinking, and cursing himself for having talked about it publicly, not thinking of the consequences. It seemed obvious in retrospect: the Elder Wand was now an albatross around his neck. "All right," he conceded. "I'll do the spells. But I'm still getting rid of the thing if some good opportunity comes along." Things sure don't go the way you planned them, he thought.

* * * * *

The next morning while he ate breakfast, Harry explained to Kreacher their plans for a bank, choosing his words carefully. He didn't want Kreacher to think that they were going to do anything his former masters would have disapproved of; he greatly preferred Kreacher's willing help to his unwilling help. He decided to frame it as an action taken in opposition to the goblins, and emphasized that the bank would be a profit-making enterprise. He said nothing about the notion of using loans to help Muggle-born wizards. Kreacher was very pleased with the idea, so Harry decided to add the information that Bill would become a co-owner of the house, and explained the reason. Kreacher was less enthused with this, but didn't protest.

Looking at the Prophet, he reflected, seemed more like a responsibility, something he should do to stay informed, and he was eating breakfast anyway, so why not. The main story was the news that a way had been found to protect Diagon Alley from dementors. It would be set up in the morning, and Diagon Alley would be open to the public at noon. People were cautioned that to be on the safe side, for the first day, they shouldn't come unless they could do the Patronus Charm, or were with someone who could.

Another major story was about the Gringotts slowdown, and Kingsley's reaction to it, which was even harsher than Harry expected. "This action on the part of the Gringotts goblins is totally unacceptable, and the goblins' statements that the slowdown is due to high demand is ludicrous on its face. Special escorts have been offered to citizens recently due to the dementor threat, but the number of customers visiting Gringotts was less than half of what is usual. This action is clearly what it appears to be: a threat to the economic well-being of all wizards intended to coerce our submission to their demand to have Harry Potter arrested and to pay them restitution for his actions which saved the wizarding community. Their actions are tantamount to holding our gold hostage, demanding that their financial health be attended to sooner than the deep wounds inflicted on the members of the wizarding community. They have also breached the public's trust by denying people the ability to withdraw the money that is rightfully theirs. If the goblins do not reverse this action, they will have committed the equivalent of theft. I insist that they begin serving their customers again as usual, or turn over Gringotts to those who will do so."

Wow, thought Harry, he really went off on them. Thinking about it and reading it again, however, he could see nothing specific that he didn't agree with. It was more that the tone was so aggressive, not polite and moderate as politicians often were. The article went on to note more or less the same thing, but also noted the strong approval from citizens to whom the quote was read.

Looking at the bottom of page one, he saw a box containing, in large type, the words "Should Potter Apologize?" and "see editorial, page 18" in small letters below it. Intrigued, he automatically turned to the right page. The editorial was titled "Potter Should Apologize." It was not the main editorial, but one written by someone who was not a regular Prophet writer. He read:

The title of this editorial is not a mistake: Harry Potter should apologize to the goblins for his actions of the day before the defeat of You-Know-Who.

I know very well what reactions this view will get, as it already has from those to whom I've expressed it in person: scorn, derision, disbelief, even hostility. He saved our society, they say, he was willing to sacrifice himself for our freedom. He performed heroically, and I should be taking up editorial space praising him rather than criticizing him. Without his actions, the Prophet would still be a mouthpiece for You-Know-Who, and I would not enjoy the privilege of freely expressing my opinion, in the Prophet or anywhere else.

All this is true, and if I met Mr. Potter, I would express my profound respect and admiration for him and his actions. I would then urge him to apologize to the goblins for those actions.

I come at this question from a point of view uncommon in the wizarding community: I have had extensive dealings with goblins, and have spent much time with them. I know them almost as well as any human does. Their demands, which seem ridiculous and insulting to us, make perfect sense for them, though they are a shade more aggressive than usual.

One must always keep in mind the historical background of this situation. Relations between humans and goblins have always been thorny, and it is true that goblins have not always behaved perfectly. But humans have always had greater numbers, greater power, and the ability to inflict their will on the goblins. Even a summary of the important events of this history would consume more space than the Prophet has already generously allowed me; let us just say that goblins have suffered greatly, and repeatedly, at the hands of humans.

This matters because it has greatly informed the current mindset of the goblins. They religiously look out for their own interests, because they know that humans cannot be trusted to do so. Their pride is important to them, because they know that humans have always disrespected them, looked down on them, mocked them. Their pride is reflected in Gringotts, an ancient and respected establishment, in which they perform a valuable service for our community, and do it well. Should it then surprise us that they would react with anger at an audacious and successful break-in by three teenagers, who managed to escape? Was it truly necessary? Mr. Potter, Miss Granger, and Mr. Weasley have provided only the vaguest details regarding the necessity of the break-in. Do we doubt them? Of course not. The results were obvious; You-Know-Who was dead within a day. But to the goblins, the story should have been told: not for the sake of the detailed content, which the goblins would have found irrelevant, but for the respect that such an explanation would have shown. If someone broke into and damaged your house, you would feel that you were owed at least a polite explanation, no matter for how good a reason it was done.

Mr. Potter's flippant remarks at the Merlin ceremony, while understandable--he is, after all, still only 17--were decidedly unhelpful. He is of course no diplomat; he should have ignored the question from the audience. But what is not understandable has been the reaction from the Ministry, which should know better. Minister Shacklebolt's refusal to meet with Gringotts leaders to discuss the issue was seen as a sign of great disrespect, which he had to have known, as he has advisers to tell him such things. He may have felt, as most wizards do, that in view of what happened to our community, that the goblins should wait. But he is new to politics and government, and seems not to realize that things must sometimes be done in the interests of all, even if they seem distasteful and unreasonable.

In view of the Minister's most recent comments, which will serve only to greatly exacerbate the situation, we cannot reasonably hope for responsible action to come from the Ministry. Only Harry Potter can salvage this situation now. If he were to apologize to the goblins, it would go a long way towards defusing the situation. Why should he apologize, one may ask, when he has arguably done nothing wrong? In diplomacy, sometimes apologies are offered where no fault exists, to patch up disputes or soothe wounded national pride. Grown-ups understand this, and act accordingly; those who insist they are acting on 'principle' more often than not harm their own interests in their naiveté. Mr. Potter's naiveté is understandable; Minister Shacklebolt's is not.

As it stands now, the situation will continue to escalate to the point where both sides may end up fervently wishing that conflict had been avoided. As the party with the upper hand, it is incumbent on humans to take the initiative in repairing what damage has been done. Let us hope that Minister Shacklebolt or Mr. Potter will see this, and do the right thing. My money is on Mr. Potter.

Harry then read the companion editorial, which ridiculed the idea of apologizing, strongly backing Harry's actions and Kingsley's decisions. Harry put down the paper and leaned back in his chair, at one point so far that he almost fell over backwards. Chagrined, hoping for some reason that Kreacher hadn't seen it, he got up and headed for the living room, where he lay on the sofa and thought. He knew that he would under no circumstances apologize, but he wasn't sure exactly why. Even if he could help defuse the situation, it seemed extremely wrong to do so. Finally, an answer came to him. Inspired, he Summoned the Prophet from the kitchen table, found that the writer's name was Pietr Kassant, and sat at the desk at which he read his mail.

Dear Mr. Kassant,

A good friend recently said to me that if you lie to someone, it means you don't respect them. I respect anyone--human, house-elf, or goblin--until they give me a reason not to. I'm not sorry about anything I did. I don't respect the goblins' recent actions, so maybe I should go ahead and lie to them. But I think if I was the kind of person who could do that, I wouldn't have been the kind of person who did what I did. I can't speak for Kingsley, but he and I both fought Voldemort when a lot of people didn't, so maybe we're just the kind of people who do what we think is right, and apologizing when we're not sorry isn't right. Maybe that's naïve, I don't know. But I think it's better than lying.

As for you, I don't agree with what you wrote, but I respect it--except for when you said 'You-Know-Who.' Can we just say his name already?? Are you afraid of a dead man? He's really, 100% dead, the kind you don't come back from. I promise that if you say 'Voldemort,' nothing bad will happen to you.

Sorry. But this just annoys the hell out of me.

Sincerely,

Harry Potter

Satisfied, Harry folded it, put it in an envelope, and put it where he knew Kreacher would pick it up and have it delivered. He turned his attention to the mail pile; looking at it reminded him that he'd have to talk to Narcissa Malfoy again in a half an hour. He didn't want to be late, and give her an excuse to be rude and insulting. He fully intended to put away the mirror and send it back at the first sign of an insult. I've taken enough crap from that family, he thought.

The fan mail kept coming; today, some of it was regarding the Gringotts situation, reaffirming their support for his actions and condemning the goblins; some asked him to speak publicly against the goblins. Yeah, that'd be helpful, Harry thought sardonically.

The fireplace lit up, and Hermione stepped out and walked toward him. He stood, wondering what was going on, as she would normally be at the Ministry helping Arthur. She was holding a magazine and a piece of paper. Oh, no, he thought, the Witch Weekly article. But she didn't look unhappy, or at least, any more unhappy than she'd been since she found out about her parents. Without a word, she handed him the paper. He read:

Dear Miss Granger,

After reconsideration inspired mostly by a conversation with your friend Mr. Potter, I have decided not to publish the article. I understand that this situation has been a tragedy for you, and especially in view of your heroic efforts on behalf of all of us, I have no wish to compound your distress by making it public.

I would warn you, however, that if I found this out, others could as well. Of course, if they did, your parents would likely not talk to them, rendering the story more or less useless. I would also warn you that journalists do not usually do things like this. As you are now, like it or not, a public person, you and the others would be well advised to consider how anything you do would appear if it were made public.

My admiration and thanks to you and your friends for your actions, and best of luck in your future.

Dormus Pinter

Harry looked back up at Hermione with raised eyebrows; it was the last thing he'd expected. "Thank you," she said simply, her eyes full of warmth and affection. She reached out and hugged him, holding on harder than she usually did.

"I really had no idea he'd do that," he said, though happy she was so grateful. "It doesn't change what happened, though."

"Yes, but at least I don't have to suffer in public," she said, letting go. "I really appreciate it.

"What are you doing? Oh, correspondence. You could probably spend all day on that."

"I sure hope not. I'm doing it now partly because I'm supposed to talk to Narcissa Malfoy. Yeah, I think so too," he added, in response to her disdainful look.

"Well," she sighed, "she did save your life, so I guess we have to be a little grateful, whatever her reasons. It's strange the way things happen sometimes. What are you going to tell her?"

Harry looked around the mail area. "First, let me make sure Slughorn--ah, there it is." He picked up a small box and told her what he intended to do as he opened it. Her mouth fell open. "She'll never agree to that!"

He shrugged. "If she doesn't, then she doesn't get my help. It's as simple as that."

She grinned a little. "I think I'll stay around for a few minutes. I'm interested to see this. Oh, read the letter."

He put aside the bottle and read. "Harry--Good to hear from you. I am very surprised at what you intend to do, but I understand your reasons. You know that this substance is controlled, and for good reason; it can easily be abused. Only for you would I do this. We enjoyed watching the ceremony, and the three you mentioned have been quite popular since then. Young students ask about you; I tell them that you are what you seem to be. I hope to hear from you again. Yours, Horace." After a pause, he added, "Well, at least he sent it."

"You know how he is. Considering your status right now, he'd probably do anything you asked him to do that didn't involve a long Azkaban sentence if he got caught."

They chatted until 10:00, when Harry got out his mirror. "Narcissa, are you there?"

After a small pause, she answered, her voice frosty but controlled. "I am here."

"Is Draco there?"

She glared at him. "No, he is not. I did not wish him to be taken into custody. You have acted in bad faith."

His eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

"Your friends, Weasley and the M--" she cut herself off as Harry gave her a warning look. "The Granger girl gave evidence against Draco yesterday in the Wizengamot. I refuse to believe they do not know what we are discussing."

"First of all, I don't own them," he responded, irritated. "Secondly, they didn't say anything that wasn't true. They, and I, are not going to lie for Draco, or you. If I intervene for Draco, for example, I won't say 'he didn't do anything.' I'll say, 'he did this and that, but he realizes it was a mistake, and he plans to be a good citizen in the future.' Something like that."

She nodded briskly. "You said there were conditions."

"Anyone who I help like that has to answer questions from me under Veritaserum." Her eyes went wide. "The questions would have to do with the person's degree of responsibility, what they did in the past and why they did it, what their future plans are, that sort of thing. I don't plan to vouch for someone and then watch them kill, or join another powerful Dark wizard. No questions about anything like romance, or other matters that aren't related to my main interest would be asked, nothing designed to humiliate the person."

"The whole procedure in itself would be humiliating," she sneered. "Absolutely not. It is unacceptable."

He shrugged. "Then we're done." He started to put the mirror away, but stopped as he heard her alarmed voice. "Wait." He held it in front of his face again. "We can offer you gold instead."

He shook his head. "I don't want gold. Is it really so difficult to understand why I want this? I'm not trying to humiliate you, but if I help you or Draco avoid prison, and something you do results in someone's death, even indirectly, then I'm responsible for that. I need to be assured that that won't happen. You and Draco allied yourselves with a wizard who was responsible for hundreds of deaths, including those of my parents. I'm sorry, but I don't plan to just take your word for it that you'll never do it again."

There was fury in her voice, but she kept it level. "You owe me a debt."

"As I said," he answered, trying to remain calm himself, "we disagree on just how that works. For example, if you said under Veritaserum that you would have saved me no matter what answer I gave about Draco being in the castle, I would feel more indebted. But I don't think that's going to happen," he added, noting her expression. "Also, remember, I saved Draco, too, earlier. We could argue that you were just paying me back for what I already did for him, even if you didn't know it. Anyway, these are my terms. Take it or leave it."

After a slight pause, she replied, "You will receive an owl." The connection ceased, and he was looking at himself in the mirror. He put it away. "Charming woman," he muttered to Hermione.

"Well, I think your terms are very reasonable," said Hermione. "Of course, not being evil, I would think that." He smiled. "Do you think she or Draco will do it?"

"I really don't care," he said. "I guess she wants to let Draco make up his own mind. She has her pride, and she may not have done that much personally, so she may say no. Draco may not have directly killed, but he's done enough that if I was him, I'd worry."

"In a way, she's right about one thing. It would be humiliating for them, to be questioned by you, under Veritaserum."

"Not my problem."

"Oh, I agree, of course. It's just that if they say no, that'll probably be the reason." She stood. "I should be getting back, but... thank you again for what you did. It means so much to me that you'd protect me like that."

He nodded. "You've protected me a fair bit recently."

"This is different. This is... more important, somehow. See you later."

* * * * *

Next: Chapter 6, Diagon Alley: In his first public outing since defeating Voldemort, Harry finds himself the center of attention. Though most of the attention is very positive, he finds that he still can't enjoy it, or meet the very high expectations of some he encounters.

From Chapter 6: "He's your cousin," said Molly, again with disappointment in his attitude. "You grew up with him. I thought you'd want him to stay with you."

"You were wrong," said Harry, more emotionally than he meant to. "I need my space right now, I'm not ready to have someone move in with me. And I may have grown up with him, but his mother raised him to treat me like dirt, approved while he chased me, insulted me, you name it. That's not the reason I don't want him staying with me. I do feel bad for him. But you shouldn't make assumptions about situations you don't know about."