Harry Potter and the Antiquity Link

Chapter 7

Us Against Them

Harry could have predicted the headline of the next day's edition of the Daily Prophet: Goblins Attempt To Kidnap Potter. Below the large-type headline were two pictures-in-motion: one showing Ron grabbing Harry to prevent him from touching the paper airplane, and the other one showed Kassant grasping it and disappearing. Editorials loudly demanded retribution, suggesting that Gringotts be forcibly taken from the goblins, or that senior Gringotts goblins be taken into custody. The mildest of the editorials decried the goblins' actions while realistically pointing out that the goblins were safely entrenched in Gringotts and could not be removed, and that little could be done, especially if there was to be any hope that people would get their gold back.

Harry was pleased to read that Kassant had emerged from Gringotts unscathed, but was surprised to find that he left four hours after he disappeared, and made no comments to the media. Interesting, Harry thought, that he didn't say anything defending them.

Harry was interested to read about a public opinion survey taken by the Prophet regarding the Gringotts situation. It didn't surprise Harry that a near-unanimous majority felt that Harry owed the goblins no apology; it did surprise him that 81% felt that he should not apologize even if it meant a high chance that they could never access their Gringotts vaults again. Asked to make a hypothetical choice between Harry apologizing, the Ministry paying the goblins a settlement of half a million Galleons, and an armed raid on Gringotts, 2% of those surveyed chose the first option, 14% the second, and 84% the third.

Following advice given by both Bill and Ron, Harry dealt with the mail a little differently: he used his wand to open every letter, not coming in physical contact with anything. The chances of anything untoward happening were very low, but they didn't want to take any chances. Nothing appeared amiss; the quantity of mail was up a little over the previous day, most of it expressing indignation over the kidnap attempt. One thoughtful writer suggested that he refuse to sign autographs in public for fear that the proffered pen might be a Portkey, and that Harry carry his own parchment that he could autograph. The writer further suggested that as the one who came up with the idea, he should get the first autograph. Chuckling, Harry obliged him. Not a bad idea, he thought. He had signed a half-dozen autographs in Diagon Alley, unmindful of any danger.

Harry arrived at the Hog's Head at nine-thirty, Apparating directly inside at Aberforth's invitation. They exchanged greetings; Harry asked if Aberforth was getting any business. A little, Aberforth replied. There was still no fireplace, but as with many businesses, there were now two-way Portkeys linking the Hog's Head to Diagon Alley and the Atrium. He could allow Apparition directly inside the place, as some businesses did, but since he lived there as well, he preferred not to.

"Ab," Harry asked, "Do you know anything about girls?"

"Yes. I know enough not to give advice about them."

Harry grinned, then went ahead anyway. "Well, there's this girl, let's call her 'Darlene,'" began Harry, but Aberforth cut him off. "Why don't we just call her Linny, so I really won't know who you're talking about."

"I see," said Harry. "People talk about this?"

"I've been dealing with Hogwarts students for a while. I know far more than I'd like to about who's dating who, who likes who, who wants to be going out with who but can't ask her because he heard that her dormitory-mate likes him and she might be mad at him if he asks the other one, who might say no, and he wouldn't know if it's because she really doesn't like him or if she's doing it just for her friend."

"Are they all like that?"

"No. Most are a lot stupider."

Harry chuckled. "Look," said Aberforth, "I'm no expert, and I'm not about to give specific advice about any situation. My general advice is to communicate directly with the other person, be honest, tell them what's on your mind. If everyone did that, then at least we would all know where we stood with each other."

"What if, if you did that, it might cause real problems?"

"Then your relationship has real problems."

"Thanks, that's helpful," Harry responded, with light sarcasm.

Aberforth shrugged. "I'm no wordsmith, but sometimes the simplest advice is best."

Able to get nothing more out of Aberforth on the topic, Harry talked with him about other things until ten to ten, when Ron arrived. "Almost no one's waiting in line at Gringotts, I've just heard," he reported. "Also, we know what happens when you sign the form but don't write the letter to the Ministry. Two people were arrested trying to break into Diagon Alley shops before they opened; apparently, they had an uncontrollable compulsion to spend the money they withdrew. It seems that this curse actually causes you pain if you don't spend the money you took out. They're at St. Mungo's now for treatment, and so are four others who managed to wait until the stores opened, then tried to spend huge amounts."

"Nasty," Harry commented. "But, I suppose, not surprising."

"No, not hardly," agreed Ron.

Soon it was 10:00, and exactly on time, Malfoy Apparated directly into the Hog's Head. Aberforth was already in his living quarters; with an unpleasant glance but no words to Malfoy, Ron walked through the door and closed it behind him. Harry performed the soundproofing spell, then gestured Malfoy to a table. They both sat; Harry placed the bottle of Veritaserum on the table. It was a clear bottle, so Harry would know if Malfoy tried to pretend to drink but not really do so.

With a look of great disdain at Harry, Malfoy reached for the bottle, held it to his mouth, and started drinking. Focusing intently on the bottle, Harry didn't see Malfoy surreptitiously reach for his wand and point it at Harry. Harry suddenly felt disoriented, not totally sure where he was or what was going on.

Malfoy stood, showed Harry the bottle with half the Veritaserum gone, and held it up to Harry's lips. Very disoriented, Harry drank it, as he felt he was supposed to for some vague reason. After it was gone, Malfoy placed the bottle back on the table, pointed the wand at Harry again, and removed the curse. Harry was himself again.

He stared at Malfoy, astonished. He gave voice to his first thought, which seemed to be part of the effect of Veritaserum. "Are you absolutely stupid?" he demanded. "What makes you think I won't walk out of here, go to the Wizengamot, and tell them to hang you up by your thumbs?"

Malfoy shrugged. "If you do, you do. I'll go into hiding. But I am not, for any reason, going to sit here like a sheep while you pull whatever information you want out of my head. We're going to do this on equal terms; that's the only way I can live with it. I have my pride."

Still amazed, Harry asked, "Is your pride worth risking that much for?"

Malfoy became solemn, and there was vulnerability in his eyes; Harry knew that Malfoy was about to say something that he wouldn't say except for the Veritaserum. "My family and I spent the last year in fear, in terror of the Dark Lord, expecting to be killed at any time. Sometimes, your pride is all you have left."

Harry raised his eyebrows and slowly nodded. "Actually, I can understand that."

"I thought you might. Besides, what would you have said if I'd told you that this was the only way I'd do it?"

Harry thought for a few seconds. "I'd have considered it."

Malfoy scoffed. "You liar! You never would have."

"You idiot! What did I just drink, butterbeer? Not quite capable of lying right now, remember?"

"Oh, yeah," said Malfoy. He looked at Harry closely. "You really would have?"

"I'd have considered it," Harry repeated. "Don't know if I'd have done it or not. But I wouldn't have thought it was unreasonable. I know it's asking a lot. Like I said, I just can't do it any other way."

"So, that was true," said Malfoy, obviously impressed. "I thought it was just an excuse for you to pull anything out that you pleased."

"That's because that's what it would have been if you were the one doing it," Harry pointed out.

"That's true," admitted Draco. He paused, surprised. "Wow, there's something I never would have said otherwise."

"Yeah, it's pretty strong stuff," agreed Harry. "It's like, you just say whatever comes to your mind, you can't help it. Weird feeling."

"Did you ever enjoy being the Boy Who Lived?" Malfoy suddenly asked.

"No," Harry answered instantly. "Hate it. Hate the whole thing, never liked it. Sick of people staring at my forehead, oh, so sorry about your parents, all that. I just wished they'd leave me alone." He paused. "Did I mention I hate it?"

Malfoy nodded. "You did. I'm... really surprised. I thought you liked it."

"Again, that's because you would have liked it if it had happened to you."

"True," agreed Malfoy. "Why didn't you like it?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know. Just didn't." After a pause, he added, "Too bad it happened to me, and not you. Then, we both would have been happy."

Malfoy chuckled. "Yeah, guess so."

"I suppose it's just different personality types," mused Harry. "I can imagine that a lot of people would have liked it."

"How did you know about how the Dark Lord tortured me and my family?"

Not wanting to take too much time, Harry launched into an explanation of the Horcruxes, and the connection to his scar. "You were a Horcrux?" repeated a stunned Malfoy. "Wow... how did that feel?"

"Not good. Like somebody else was inside there, and of course it was worse that it was Voldemort."

"I can imagine. Well, no, I really can't, but you know what I mean. Now about the Elder Wand, I want to know--"

"Wait," said Harry forcefully, holding up a hand. Malfoy looked up in surprise. "Two things here. One, I think this lasts about an hour, and I don't know how long my questions will take. If it wears off, and I don't have the answers I need--"

"I get it," acknowledged Malfoy. "We should be okay for time, but there are a few things I just have to know. You'll have your time."

"The other thing is that if you ask any questions about the location of the Elder Wand, how to get at it or control it, where I found it, or what I intend to do with it in the future, I'll have no choice but to answer the question, after which--"

"You'll get up and leave," finished Malfoy. "All right, I'll ask those questions in a different way." He paused, thinking. "Will you get up and leave if I ask you why you're so sensitive about anything to do with that wand?"

Clever way to ask, thought Harry. "No, I won't."

"Why are you so sensitive about anything to do with the Elder Wand?"

Harry explained what he'd felt after defeating Voldemort, and his feeling that there was no good hiding place for it. "So, I'm kind of stuck with it."

"You're stuck with the Elder Wand," Malfoy repeated in disbelief. "You're weird, you know that?"

"I've been told," Harry acknowledged. "Ron's exact words were, 'are you mental?'"

"I guess he and I have something in common, then. I'd think most people would want to keep it. Doesn't the--I mean, will you leave if I ask you, doesn't the power of the wand appeal to you?"

"No, I won't. And I'll just answer to save time, so you don't have to ask twice. It doesn't appeal to me because I have no desire to be great, to be rich, to be powerful, to be a hero, even though everyone keeps calling me that. I just want to be a normal person with a normal, happy life. But because I'm 'Harry Potter,' I may not even get that."

Malfoy stared. "You are weird."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yes, we've established that."

With a wry grin, Malfoy mused, "The reluctant hero. The best kind, for a lot of people. Must make you irresistible."

"So Kingsley said. Maybe I should be conceited and arrogant."

"I could give you lessons," offered Malfoy with a small smile.

Harry laughed heartily. "I'm sure you could."

Malfoy's next question was about whether he had really been the master of the Elder Wand at one point; Harry said yes, as far as he could tell. Malfoy seemed almost wistful; Harry thought of asking him if he wished he had it now, but didn't, as the answer was obvious. Malfoy then asked whether Harry planned to use the Elder wand; Harry explained Bill's request, which led to an explanation of the planned bank. Malfoy looked impressed, but asked no more questions about the bank, or the Elder Wand.

Malfoy's next question surprised Harry. "Have you ever been in the Slytherin common room?"

"Yes," Harry responded. "What made you ask that?"

"The people that brought you to Malfoy Manor told me later you said that. How were you there?"

Harry told the story about the Polyjuice Potion. To Harry's further surprise, Malfoy laughed uproariously. "I thought they were acting strange! Those idiots, couldn't resist a cupcake, didn't ask any questions. When I asked them about it later, they didn't seem to know what I was talking about. I just thought they were being thick. But I also thought it was funny because you thought I was the Heir of Slytherin! I should be flattered, I suppose. It's just really funny. Where was Granger all this time?"

Harry explained; Malfoy went into further hysterics. "A cat! Oh, Merlin..." It took him a minute to calm down. "Oh, Potter, I haven't had that good a laugh in a long time."

Harry wanted to respond 'Glad I could help,' but couldn't, because it wasn't literally true. "I believe that."

"Okay, I think I've done most of the ones I wanted to make sure--oh, wait, one more. First day at Hogwarts, why did you refuse my offer of friendship?"

Harry hadn't thought about that for a long time. "Because you were running down Ron while you were doing it. To be your friend, I had to not be Ron's, and I liked him."

Apparently surprised, Malfoy nodded thoughtfully. "I'd forgotten that Weasley was even involved in that conversation. Now that you mention it, I remember, but I always just thought it was like, I offered you goodwill, you told me to go to hell, and that was that."

"Interesting," said Harry. "Hermione said once--she read it somewhere, but that almost goes without saying--that memory isn't that well understood, that we shape it after the fact according to what we think and what we feel. Thinking about it like that, what you said makes sense. If you remember it like that, you can feel more like I'm the bad guy."

"Granger thinks too much," said Malfoy disdainfully. "And that whole attention-getting thing was disgusting. 'Oh, look at me! I know the answer!' Didn't that ever get on your nerves?"

"A little bit, at first," Harry admitted. "Probably if it was someone I didn't like, I'd have made fun of it too. But if it's your friend, it seems different. It's more like a cute quirk than something annoying."

Malfoy shrugged. "If you say so. It annoyed the crap out of me. Really, I don't see what Weasley sees in her."

"You couldn't want a better friend," said Harry. "She was always there when you needed her."

"Did you ever fancy her? Or was Skeeter just wrong about that?"

"Practically every word Skeeter wrote about me was wrong. No, I never fancied her. Just friends."

"And who do you fancy now?"

Getting annoyed, Harry responded, "I don't know. And you're getting into questions I don't want you getting into."

"Don't know?" Malfoy repeated, clearly surprised. "How can you not know who you fancy? 'No one,' would be one thing. But, 'don't know'..."

"Okay, let's get to my questions," said Harry impatiently, hoping he could cut Malfoy off from any further questions along the current lines. He felt he'd been more than patient, showing good will by letting Malfoy go first. "Before you came to Hogwarts, what were the values your parents taught you?"

Malfoy's eyebrows went high. "That's a strange question." He paused, thinking. "To be in control, that was the big thing. Maybe that's why I wouldn't accept the Veritaserum as a one-way deal, even to save my skin. You couldn't be in control less than in that situation. He always said, you have to be in control of every situation. Bend others to your will, make them think you have some power. Be confident. People who passively resist need more persuasion; people who actively resist are enemies. To your enemies, show no mercy, because they wouldn't show any to you. Aside from that, just the usual things. Money is power, Muggles are inferior and fit only to be servants, Mudbloods are a pox on wizardkind, like that. Why did you ask that?"

"I wanted to understand the... I don't know the right word, but like the ground rules, of how you grew up. I figure if I'm going to judge someone's sense of right and wrong, it's good to know what they were taught. But doesn't it strike you as funny, I mean strange, that your father told you to always be in control, then ended up putting his family in a position where they had zero control, basically slaves to Voldemort's whims?"

Harry saw Malfoy's eyes harden. "I hated him for that. Yes, it was strange, or you could say ironic. But I wasn't sure whether I hated that he got us in that position by joining the Dark Lord, or whether it was because he failed. I guess it worked out the same either way. He lost control."

"But he was never in control, if he joined Voldemort," protested Harry. "Even if you were in favor, that could change in a second. All that mattered to him was whether he could use you or not."

"That's life, isn't it, Potter," responded Malfoy. "You deal with people you can use, and if you can't, you don't bother. It's like that for everyone."

"Well, I don't look at life like that," said Harry. "That would be really depressing. I'm pretty sure there's more to life than just getting what we can use. There's friends, for example."

Malfoy looked pensive. "So, Weasley and Granger are your friends. Would you do something for them if they asked that didn't benefit you at all? Even if it hurt your interests in some way?"

Harry couldn't believe Malfoy was asking this. "Of course! That's what friendship is! You feel warmth, closeness, to these people. It's not measured in terms of what they can do for you, just... I don't know, how you feel with them."

"It's funny... I know you're telling the truth, but it seems like a foreign language to me. It sounds stupid, like a fairy tale."

"Well, that's sad."

"I don't want your pity!"

"I'm not trying to pity you. It's the Veritaserum, makes you say what you think."

"Well, stop thinking that."

Harry laughed. "I'll try." He felt he had learned a great deal about Malfoy in that exchange. "How did you feel when you found out that Voldemort came back?"

"Good, like things were going to get better. People like us would rise to the positions we deserved, Muggles and Mudbloods would be put in their place. And I would be one of the favored, because of my birth, because my father had the Dark Lord's favor."

"When did those feelings start to change?"

"A little bit, at the end of fifth year, when my father was captured. I realized that not everything was going to be like I'd thought it would. But I tried to ignore it, because of the task I'd been given. I thought, my father had bad luck, and it's up to me now. I had doubts, but I tried to put them out of my mind."

"Did you feel uncomfortable about the idea of killing Dumbledore?"

"A little, since I'd never killed before. I told myself a lot of things. He's old, he doesn't have much time left anyway. He's probably senile, I'm doing him a favor. He's standing in the way of the rightful order, he deserves it. I also felt uncomfortable because he'd always been nice to me, even though I wasn't to him. Asked me how I was doing, talked to me. I figured it was just because I was my father's son, deserved to be treated with respect." Harry, trying not to say anything, shook his head slightly, amazed at how little Malfoy understood.

Malfoy saw the gesture. "Okay, then, why did he talk to me?"

"He was worried about you. He knew that you'd been ordered to kill him, and he didn't want you to do it--for your sake, not his. He felt that if you killed, you'd be irredeemably lost to evil. He was trying to stop that. He told Snape that if it came to that, Snape should kill him, rather than see you do it."

Malfoy's mouth hung open. "That was why Dumbledore kept you talking for so long just before he died," Harry continued. "He hoped to persuade you not to do it, or at least, wait until Snape got there, so he could do it."

"Now, how the hell could you know that?" Malfoy demanded. Harry explained that he'd been there, frozen, under his Invisibility Cloak. "I didn't understand it either, at the time. I only understood much later, when I found out he was trying to save you. But when he said, 'Severus, please...'"

"He was asking Snape to kill him," Malfoy said, his voice almost a whisper. "So I wouldn't have to." Malfoy took a deep breath, and to Harry's astonishment, a tear fell, then another. As if suddenly realizing it, Malfoy angrily wiped his eyes, but the tears didn't stop. "What the hell..."

Harry realized he understood. "The Veritaserum must inhibit your ability to control your emotions," he suggested. "Like when I was pitying you, even if I didn't intend to. It just comes out." Harry deliberately looked away, studying something on the wall. He noticed that for the occasion, Arianna's portrait had been taken down.

Looking down, Malfoy tried to gather himself, taking deep breaths. Finally, he looked at Harry again. Passionately, he said, "If you so much as hint at this to a single person, I will make it my life's mission to see you dead."

Harry nodded solemnly. "I wouldn't have anyway, but I understand why you said that. And I want to apologize. I didn't know Veritaserum did that." Malfoy gave him a curt nod, but didn't respond.

After a short pause, Harry continued. "I need to know what was going through your mind when you had your wand pointed at Dumbledore, him talking to you."

Calming down, Malfoy thought, then answered. "It was like, the decision point. I had thought so much about killing him, it should be easy. I'd practiced the Killing Curse, on animals, and I was sure I could do it. But it suddenly seemed different, felt different. Maybe because it was Dumbledore, talking to me like he was. Part of me didn't want to do it, and part was trying to make me do it. I was scared, afraid of what the Dark Lord would do if he found out that I had the chance but didn't do it."

Interesting, thought Harry. But I want to know more about the part that stopped him. Was it just Dumbledore? "Was there some part of you that thought, I shouldn't do this because murder is wrong?"

Malfoy raised an eyebrow, as if it were an interesting question. "I'm not sure. I mean, obviously, I wasn't taught that murder was wrong, like that. I was taught that life is a battle, you know, us against them, and I already said the bit about showing no mercy. So I suppose that may seem obvious to you, but it wasn't part of my way of thinking. The reason I'm not sure is that it wasn't a conscious thought, but something inside me was pushing me not to do it, and not just because it was Dumbledore. At that time, I thought it was a weakness, and I tried to get past it. Over time, I started to realize that it was a conscience, one that had been suppressed most of my life. So I guess the answer to your question is yes, but not exactly in the way you put it. It was more of a feeling than a thought."

Harry felt he was on to something, the answers he was looking for. "How did this conscience change, or develop, over the year between then and now?"

Malfoy grunted. "Even with the Veritaserum, it's hard to answer that. I guess I'd say it changed, got stronger, but mainly because for the first time in my life, I literally feared for my life, thought it might soon be over. That gave me a way of looking at other people that I hadn't had before. At some point, I actually started to feel sorry for Dumbledore, sorry that he died. It was a strange feeling. The part of myself that my father trained told me that it was a weakness, brought on by my fear of death. But it didn't feel like weakness. If felt like... like it was wrong. Even though I hadn't been taught that, you pick it up from society. I was willing to consider the idea that my father had been wrong.

"As for now... I'm happy that the Dark Lord has gone, that that whole thing is over with. I'm happy not to be in that kind of position, to have to think about that, to have that hanging over me. I think I would feel bad if I killed someone, and I don't want to do it. So, I guess you could say that my conscience is evolving."

"How do you feel about your father now?"

Malfoy stared at the wall behind Harry. "I don't know. I made fun of you for giving that answer about who you fancied, and here I am, giving it. On the one hand, he tried to help me succeed, to be powerful, as he understood it. But on the other hand, he led me down a path that I'd rather have no part of, and it failed in any case. To be honest, I'm just as happy that he's on the run now. I don't especially want to see him in Azkaban, but I don't want to live with him either. I want to work some things out by myself, without his comments or influence. So, I'm not really sure."

Harry was fairly sure at this point what he would say to the Wizengamot, but he still had a few more questions. "What do you plan to do in the future?"

Malfoy seemed to try to speak, paused, then tried again. "I don't know. I have access to my family's money--we took most of it out recently--so I don't have to think too hard about it. I'm not sure about this, either. It's funny--you said you would be asking this, and at the time I couldn't imagine why, but now of course I understand. I wanted to give a sarcastic answer, like, find out if the Dark Lord has a brother, go join up with him. I thought your question was stupid, because it's like you're checking to make sure I won't say that, even though what I've said should be enough to tell you that's not going to happen. I tried to say that, the sarcastic answer, but I found I couldn't. The Veritaserum doesn't even let you use sarcasm! Weird. How about you?"

To his own surprise, Harry laughed; Malfoy looked at him, puzzled. "I don't know either. I laughed because I've gotten all these job offers, but I have a strong feeling of not wanting to do anything, at least for a while. And I don't know why. Everybody thinks I should do this or that, and I can't explain to anybody why I don't want to do anything."

"That's something I can understand right now," agreed Malfoy. "Very different things happened to us, but they both changed our lives a lot, and maybe we need time to sort it all out. Did you--wait, let me check, have you asked everything you wanted to ask?"

Harry thought. "Nothing is coming to my mind right now, but I think there were one or two more things. So, go ahead. It'll probably come to me."

"Has everything you've said in public since beating him--to Gleason, at the ceremony--been the truth?"

"Yes, it has."

"Why did you walk out there to die, like a sheep? Why not fight, at least?"

Harry's eyes narrowed in puzzlement. "I thought I told you this. I was a Horcrux. The only way to make sure the person that made Horcruxes can die, and stay dead, is to destroy all the Horcruxes. I had to die." He shrugged, as if to say, what can you do?

"He was dead before," pointed out Malfoy. "He could have died again, and this time, you or everyone could have tried harder to make sure he didn't come back. If you could get rid of all the other Horcruxes, and stop him from coming back until you died a natural death, wouldn't that be enough? He'd be dead, never to return."

"I hadn't thought of it that way," admitted Harry. "I don't know how that would have worked."

Malfoy again gave him the 'you're weird' look. "How long was it between your finding out you were a Horcrux, and walking into the forest?"

"Less than a half hour."

Malfoy shook his head in disbelief. "Next time you decide you need to go off and die, you might want to stop for a little while and think about it. I mean, I'm not you, but I would've clung to life with all my strength. I can't believe you did that so easily."

"You think that was easy? It was the hardest thing I ever did!"

"But not the one you thought the most about! Why were you so sure you had to do it?"

"Dumbledore told Snape about it, and Snape gave me his memories of it as he was dying. Snape was on our side all along. Dumbledore told him I needed to figure it out, and then die, so the Horcrux would be destroyed. If there was a way to do it and have me survive, I'm sure he would have made sure I did it that way. He cared about me."

"How can you say 'he cared about me' and 'he sent me off to die' in the same sentence? That sounds seriously stupid, and I'd guess, not only to me!"

"It was for the greater good," said Harry, aware of the irony but knowing Malfoy wouldn't be. "Maybe I could've survived for a while, but the next time he came back, he would've killed even more. Saving my own life could've killed hundreds."

"Could've is the key word," retorted Malfoy. "Life is a big gamble, you never know what's going to happen. What makes it your duty to lay down and die so maybe hundreds don't die in the future?"

"You couldn't understand."

"I think you're wrong," said Malfoy forcefully. "I know I was raised differently than you, and most people, but I think a lot more people would agree with me than you about this. This is just because there's something weird about you." He paused. "I don't know, ask Weasley, ask Granger. See what they think."

Harry was slightly unnerved; he hadn't thought about it in the way Malfoy had put it. He wouldn't accept it coming from Malfoy, but he did wonder what Ron and Hermione would think of it. "I will," he said.

Malfoy chuckled. "All these years, I thought there was something wrong with you. Now I still think that, but just for a different reason. You asked how I was raised, so I'm going to ask the same thing. How were you raised?"

Harry explained how it had been with the Dursleys, and why it had been necessary for him to live there, finishing with the recent discovery about Dudley. "Well, you obviously didn't learn your values from the people you grew up with," said Malfoy. "Interesting. Your aunt feels even worse about wizards than my family does about Muggles. Difference is, we're the ones with power. If she had any brains, she'd be happy her son's a wizard."

"Do you think we're superior to Muggles, and should rule them?"

"That's like my asking you if friends are good," replied Malfoy. "I was raised to think that. But putting that aside... the first one seems obvious. We are superior. It's just a fact. But as for ruling them... I don't know, maybe it would be more trouble than it's worth. This whole thing has made me question the whole notion of having power. I mean, obviously, having power is good, but maybe getting it by violence isn't such a good idea. There are other ways. Muggles would be jealous of us if they knew, so maybe it's better that they don't."

Not exactly evolved, thought Harry, but not as bad as it could be. Another question occurred to him. "Did your mother tell you why I wouldn't consider doing this for your father."

"Yes." Malfoy's expression didn't change.

"What was your reaction to that?"

"I wasn't surprised. I assumed it was because she was your girlfriend, but now it seems she's not, or at least, you don't know. So now, it seems a little strange. Did she ask you not to?" Harry told Malfoy what Ginny had said; Malfoy laughed. "Now, there's someone I can respect. Exactly what I'd say if I were her."

This didn't exactly make Harry happy, which Malfoy seemed to notice. "Oh, come on, Potter, don't hold it against her that I approve," he said, annoyed. "There's nothing wrong with a healthy grudge. It gives you energy, motivation, keeps you going. My grudge against you at Hogwarts made me try harder."

"At schoolwork?"

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "No, you idiot. That only matters to someone like Granger; it didn't even matter to you and Weasley, judging by the quality of your work. No, it made me try harder at gathering power, influence. But you weren't even trying to get influence, were you?" Harry shook his head. "After hearing the other stuff today, I'm not surprised. Before today, I thought you were trying, but were incompetent at it. I mean, the Boy Who Lived? Already famous, beat a ghost of the Dark Lord and a basilisk in the first two years? You could have been the king of the school if you'd given it half an effort. Incredible. You had every advantage, and you just didn't care." Malfoy shook his head in wonder, as if unable to conceive such stupidity.

"Well, let me say this, and I know that you won't take it seriously coming from me, but for what it's worth... even though you still didn't try, you have huge influence right now, all over this country. You need to get in the game. You need to cultivate that influence, use it, let it grow. If you don't, it's such an appalling waste that you should just find another forest to go into so someone can kill you, for being too stupid to live.

"Influence is important, Potter, and not just for the reasons I was taught. Influence can promote your ideas. You want things to be a certain way, you can use influence to make them that way, or to push things in that direction. Whatever that way is. If you want to make house-elves equal to humans, like Granger wants to... stupid though that is... it can help you do that. People fight for influence, kill for it. I still want it, even if I won't kill for it. But it just walked up to you and sat in your lap. It would be criminal to kick it away."

Harry was impressed by Malfoy's monologue, and found it hard to write it off as being due to Veritaserum. He could see Malfoy's point, but still felt too afflicted by whatever had been bothering him since Voldemort died to give it serious thought; he decided to file it for future consideration. "I'll keep that in mind," he said.

Malfoy nodded. "About as much as could be expected."

Harry got back to the next question he'd been about to ask. "Do you still hold a grudge against me?"

Malfoy gave him a rueful grin, and shook his head. "It's served me well, but sad to say, I understand you too well for that now. You're like a genius in some ways, stupid in some, and normal in others. You have what some people call incredible bravery, or what I would call a lack of a self-preservation instinct. If everyone were like you, would the world be a great place, or would humanity have died out a long time ago? I'm still not sure. But in the end, you got rid of the Dark Lord, which was something I wanted at that point, but didn't dare hope to happen. So, I'm inclined to view you charitably. At this point, I find myself hoping that you'll wake up and smell the coffee; it would be interesting to see what you would do with your influence if you had half a mind to use it. I may be envious of it, but it helps to know that you didn't want it. I can still feel superior," he finished with a grin.

Harry chuckled. "And that's what's important."

"So, how about me?" asked Malfoy. "I'm guessing that you don't have much of a grudge against me either, at this point."

"No, I don't. Like you said, I understand you much better now. You were born to a Death Eater, which puts you in such a different universe to me that I had no idea what to think, except that you were totally evil. Knowing how things seemed to you, and your background, make things seem a lot different."

"So, now I'm only 95% evil," joked Malfoy.

Harry laughed. "I wouldn't want to give it a number. But I knew Dumbledore had hopes for you, he saw something in you beyond how you were raised. I suppose that..." Harry trailed off, looking confused.

Malfoy smiled, greatly amused. "The light dawns."

"The Veritaserum's worn off," said Harry; Malfoy nodded. "You shouldn't have been able to say you were 95% evil, since you weren't serious. When did you notice it?"

"Just a minute ago, when you said about my feeling superior, that's what's important. I know you don't really think that, so I realized it had worn off. I just decided I'd wait to see how long it took you to figure it out."

"I guess I should expect that of you."

"Yes, you should, Potter. Someone has to keep you on your toes. I couldn't believe you almost grabbed that airplane. If Weasley has more wits than you, then you've got problems."

Harry was mildly annoyed at the insult to Ron, but found he couldn't really be angry at such a comment now. Pointing his wand at the door to Aberforth's living quarters, he opened it, then responded. "Well, someone'll have to watch out for me, until I wake up and smell the coffee. Or at least until I figure out what I want to do beyond just wake up the next morning."

"Well, at least you want to wake up the next morning," said Malfoy. "That's something." Ron walked through the door.

"Do I really deserve such low expectations?" asked Harry lightly.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "Until you start having higher ones of yourself, then yes."

Harry nodded. "Hard to argue with that, I guess." He extended a hand. "Take care, Malfoy."

Malfoy shook it. "You too, Potter." He glanced at Ron, paused for a second, then spoke in a tone that Harry realized from hearing Malfoy speak under Veritaserum as overly casual. "Sorry about the mead, Weasley. But drinking's bad for you anyway." He grinned at Ron's surprised expression, nodded at Harry, and Disapparated.

Ron gaped at Harry. "What was that?"

Harry knew he would explain, but not just then. "We had a good conversation."

"I guess so," said Ron, no less surprised, but clearly realizing that answers wouldn't be forthcoming. "I suppose you're going to clear him."

Harry nodded. "We understand each other a lot better."

"He understands you? How?"

"I think he knows now that I don't need Veritaserum to tell the truth," Harry answered, as Aberforth walked into the room. "Can I have my bar back now?"

"Sorry, Ab. I really appreciate it."

"It's okay. While you're here, there's some junk I'd like you to take off my hands." He levitated a box in from the living quarters; it was square, each side a little under a foot. Looking inside, Harry saw an assortment of peculiar-looking items, none of which he could recognize, or understand its function. He looked up at Aberforth quizzically.

"Some odd items my brother wanted you to have," said Aberforth. "Magical artifacts. I got this box last night; apparently, he had left it with someone with instructions to send it after Voldemort was dead."

"But... that means he knew I wouldn't die!"

"I suspected it, my dear boy," said a voice, seeming to come from nowhere. "I hoped it might happen, and I could not be more pleased to have been correct."

Ron looked as stunned as Harry felt. "Professor?" Harry asked, looking around.

"Oh, yeah," said Aberforth gruffly, reaching behind the bar and pulling out a portrait. "That's right, there's one more piece of junk you can get rid of for me."

"My dear brother, that was unnecessarily unkind."

"Oh, stuff it, Albus. Better that you go to a place where you'll be appreciated."

"You mean... this is for me?" Harry asked Aberforth, not quite able to believe it.

"If you want it. Personally, I don't see why--"

"Aberforth, please... Harry, please do not feel obliged to accept this."

"Are you kidding? I'm thrilled! Aberforth, thank you so much."

"I will, of course, be spending much of my time at Hogwarts, as is my primary duty," said the portrait. "But I will be quite pleased to visit you from time to time."

"Thank you, Professor. I'm really honored to have your portrait."

"There is one thing, Harry: you must call me Albus. It is not considered appropriate to call a portrait by the resident's former title."

"Appropriate," muttered Aberforth. "It's not considered appropriate to cast charms on goats, either, even though it doesn't hurt anyone, including the goats. But no, we must do what is appropriate."

Ron was looking through the box, and pulled out a long, thin jewelry case. He opened it, and pulled out a necklace in the shape of an old-fashioned key, with a thin silver chain. "What's this?"

Harry took it; as soon as Harry's hand touched it, Dumbledore's voice was heard, not from the portrait. "I am the key to understanding others," it intoned.

Aberforth laughed. "Oh, that's my brother, all right. After all, why explain something when you can leave mysterious hints? Speak in riddles, make sure everyone understands how clever you are."

Dumbledore chose not to respond. "It is an artifact which translates what you say into any language," he explained to Harry. "Even if there are multiple languages being spoken, what you say will be heard by each person in their native language."

"That sounds really convenient," said Harry. "Of course, I can't imagine a situation where I would use it."

"One never knows what the future will bring," said Dumbledore. "You may well become a person of influence internationally, as you already are domestically. Such an item may be useful."

Something clicked in Harry's head when Dumbledore used the word 'influence.' "You were listening! You were behind the bar!"

Dumbledore grinned sheepishly. "Surely I cannot be blamed for where my brother leaves my portrait. I will say, Harry, that you handled the situation extremely well, better than I could have hoped. My compliments."

"Thank you, Profess--sorry, I mean, thank you, Albus. But I was wondering, I thought things like the artifacts had to go through the Ministry's screening."

"The fact is, Harry, that the Ministry almost never screens," explained Dumbledore. "I knew they would in my case, because Scrimegour wanted to know what I had left you, and what it hinted at. But especially if one knows that one's end is not far off, it is not difficult to circumvent the process. For a fee, a third party will hold the goods and follow instructions regarding their disposition."

Makes sense, thought Harry. "Well, let's get back home. Thanks again, Ab. See you later." Harry and Ron Disapparated.

At Grimmauld Place, Harry decided to put the portrait of Dumbledore on the wall near the table where he read his mail. He sat there with Ron and talked about the conversation with Malfoy; Ron expressed frequent amazement and disbelief. At the end, Ron said, "Amazing. I never would have thought. But I'm really surprised that you didn't get up and leave when he made you take the Veritaserum. Why didn't you?"

"I realized," Harry answered, speaking slowly, "that if I thought of it as something that I couldn't tolerate, then it would be for him also, and I should consider that. Also, it was something he thought was so important that he would risk my reaction, even though it could kill his future. I realized it wasn't a big deal, especially since I figured I wouldn't be lying anyway. And it turned out well, since he was impressed enough that I didn't retaliate against him for what he did that I knew that he was cooperating voluntarily, not just because of the Veritaserum. Even though he'd never have done what I did, and he'd think I was too easy on him, what I did ended up with a much better result. So, it's an argument that my way isn't as stupid as he thinks. After all, I got influence without trying, and in a way that he never could have done. If I was the type like him, who tried to get it, I never would have. If that makes any sense."

"I can see that," agreed Ron.

"Quite right, Harry," added Dumbledore. "As I listened, I wondered whether you would make that particular point to him, but I gather you felt it was not necessary."

"No, I just didn't think of it until now, actually," admitted Harry. He spent a while longer talking with them, after which Dumbledore returned to Hogwarts, and Ron to the Ministry. Harry sat alone, thinking about what Malfoy had said.

* * * * *

Harry went for another fly in the mid-afternoon, staying out for about an hour. Again, he encountered no dementors; he wondered what they were all doing, now that their targets were indoors or in Diagon Alley. Checking his mail on his arrival at home, he found a letter from Luna, a response to his response to her letter after the Merlin ceremony. She said that she was more popular these days, partly because of his mention of her in his speech.

"People know an image of you," she wrote. "'Harry Potter mentioned her, so she must be great.' But they don't know who I really am, and for many of them, they often forget that I'm the same person that they were making fun of for wearing a pirate's hat last year. Now, if I wear a pirate's hat, it's cool. It's very strange. It makes me feel like I understand, just a little, how you must feel. People think they know you, but they can't. I know you, but even I can't know what it feels like for you now." Affected by her direct style and understanding of his state of mind, he took out a piece of parchment, and started writing.

Two hours later, he was finished. It was only three pages, but it had taken a long time because he had tried to explain how he was feeling, which he found quite difficult. "Maybe this doesn't add up to much of anything," he wrote in conclusion. "If it doesn't, it's because it doesn't add up in my mind. I don't know how I can be so unknown to myself. I should know myself, I should know why I'm feeling what I'm feeling. But I don't. It's very frustrating. I know, maybe I just need to give it time. But I've never been very patient. You seem like you would know yourself, like you would be patient. I envy that about you."

An hour later, Ron came through the fireplace. "Hey. What have you been up to?"

Harry shrugged. "Correspondence. Reading. You know, the exciting life of the big celebrity, the national hero."

Ron chuckled. "Well, if the country needs someone to heroically sit around all day, you're the man. I'm here mainly to ask if you want to come for dinner tonight."

Shaking his head, Harry replied, "Not really in the mood tonight."

"You mean, not in the mood to face Mum."

"I don't know. Maybe." The thought immediately occurred to Harry that this was an answer he couldn't have given under Veritaserum.

Obviously not fooled, Ron sat on the sofa and looked at Harry. "I can understand that. I live there, and sometimes I'm not in the mood for Mum. She can be a bit much. But she usually lays off after there's been a bit of a row, gives things a chance to cool down. If you stay away, she'll know why, and it'll be that much harder later on." He paused. "Besides, Dudley will be there, so it's probably better if you are. He's become her latest project."

Knowing Molly, it didn't surprise Harry. "Have you talked to him much?"

"A bit, though of course I haven't been there that much. I got the impression that he'd like to talk to you more. I mean, Mum's been giving him the introduction to the wizarding world, but I think he'd prefer that you did it, because he knows you, and Mum can be, you know... I tried to explain to Dudley that we'd been through a lot in the past year, especially you, and that you needed some time to be pretty isolated. He seemed to understand."

"Thanks," said Harry.

"Probably what he saw in Diagon Alley made him understand a lot better than anything I said," suggested Ron. "So, who were you writing to?"

"I wrote back to Luna." To Ron's slightly raised eyebrows, he added, "She wrote after the ceremony, I wrote back to say thanks, she wrote again... I don't know if it's going to be a correspondence or not, but it's very... comfortable. Maybe it's what makes her seem strange to most people, but it's like, she's able to get past the surface stuff. She seems to really understand how I feel. I mean, you and Hermione do, and like I said, that's why I'm comfortable talking to you. But she didn't spend the time with me that you guys did, but she still seems to understand. I was pretty surprised."

Ron nodded. "I can see that. But I hope she doesn't tell Ginny that she's writing to you. Ginny would wonder why you aren't writing to her."

Harry could tell by looking at Ron that he was looking out for Ginny, but would never admit it, and wouldn't press Harry about it. He shrugged. "I only wrote her because she wrote me; Ginny didn't. I'm writing Neville too. He's telling me about what's going on at Hogwarts, and I'm telling him about the exciting life at Grimmauld Place.

"I also wrote to the Wizengamot, told them that I was ready to give testimony about Malfoy." He paused, thinking. "So, do you think I should make an effort to use my influence?"

Ron gave him a small smile. "These days, I try to avoid using the word 'should' when I talk to you."

"I appreciate that," said Harry with a laugh. "But, really."

"I've heard stuff from Dad about how that works, and I think you're better off staying away from it," said Ron. "I mean, I've only been at the Ministry for a week, unofficial, and I've already heard stuff. People spend their whole careers trying to get influence, and they may get high positions, but I don't think they're any happier. I don't really know how you'd go about increasing your influence, and as for using it, I think you will when something comes along that you care about. Until then, I wouldn't worry about it."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, I don't really know what I would do anyway. So, how's it going with the Muggle-borns?"

"We're doing what we can, but we're still short of materials. Another problem is that a lot of them lost their jobs because of their blood status, and they were replaced by half- or pure-bloods. Now, it isn't so easy for them to get their jobs back, and there's not much we can do."

"I guess loans aren't going to help too much, if people can't get jobs," said Harry sadly. "Voldemort certainly did a lot of damage."

"Yeah, but like Hermione said in her Merlin speech, it was only because this prejudice exists in the first place. He couldn't exploit it otherwise. And I think even you, using all your influence, couldn't get rid of it." Harry nodded, looking absently across the room.

"Well, I should be getting back," said Ron. "I can't do much to help them, but I can talk to them, and tell Dad what they're saying. See you at dinner?" Harry nodded his acknowledgment, and Ron left.

He killed time for the rest of the afternoon by picking up and looking at the various artifacts left him by Dumbledore; each one gave a one-sentence hint as to its function when he touched it. He knew he could find the answers to all of them by asking Dumbledore's portrait, but he preferred to try to find out by himself. A little challenge, not important, but something to keep him occupied.

At six o'clock, he went through the fireplace to the Burrow, and saw Hermione sitting by herself in the living room. "How's it going?" he asked.

"My parents went back to Australia," she said glumly.

Harry again fought back his reflex to assume responsibility. "I'm really sorry. Did you talk with them again before they left?"

She nodded, looking down, and every now and then, up at him. "They've been seeing a magical psychologist, one who specializes in memory issues, usually brought on by aggressive or unstable Memory Charms. I talked to her, and while she wouldn't tell me details of what they said, she did say she tried to explain in some detail why I found it necessary to do what I did, which I appreciated. My parents just said that while they understand it a little better, they need more time, and maybe some more work dealing with their memories. They do allow for the possibility that we can have some relationship in the future."

"Well, I guess that's something," said Harry, looking hard to find a silver lining in a very dark cloud.

"Yes, but... it's the way they said it. This is the worst part, Harry. When they talk to me... their faces, their tone... it's as if they're talking to a stranger. That hurts so much. I understand why; I made them forget they had a daughter, so in some ways, I will seem like a stranger. But I'm their daughter..." She fought back tears, Harry looking away uncomfortably. "Sorry. Anyway, it was hard. All I can do now is pray that things go well, and they remember enough of their old life to include me in it."

Harry nodded, and there was a short silence as Harry tried to think of something else to say. "How's it going at the Ministry?"

"Oh, pretty well. Arthur's very happy with what I've done, said it's saved him hours of difficulty, and allowed him to focus on actually doing things. It's really almost frightening, the amount of paperwork there is in any bureaucracy."

She talked about the Wizarding Unity Department for the next five minutes as he listened politely, moderately interested. She had just finished a story when Ron and Dudley came down the stairs.

"...and it ended up in his mouth!"

"His mouth? Does that still count?"

"Oh, yes," said Ron, nodding vigorously. "Doesn't matter how you catch it, as long as you catch it." They sat on the sofa near Hermione; Harry was in a chair.

"But you can't use magic." Ron nodded again.

"Unfortunately," said Harry, "any story that ends, 'and it ended up in his mouth,' I'm pretty sure I know the beginning of. You explained Quidditch, I see." Hermione moaned and rolled her eyes.

"Sure," said Ron, ignoring Hermione's reaction. "It's our biggest sport--"

"Isn't it our only sport?" put in Hermione.

"Of course not! Didn't you research sports? You've looked up everything else in the library."

"Well, nobody assigned me to write an essay on the history of wizarding sports. But I'm sure you'll fill this terrible gap in my knowledge," she said, with heavy sarcasm in the latter sentence.

"If you insist," responded Ron, as if oblivious to the sarcasm. "But not right now, dinner's almost ready." Hermione got up to help Molly set the table; Ron followed, talking about sports.

Dudley grinned at Harry. "It's hard to believe that they're a couple. Are they always like that with each other?"

"Usually," said Harry. "Sometimes it's funny, sometimes it's annoying. But yeah, they were always at each other about something. I got along with both fine, though. The main thing she'd criticize me about was schoolwork. I didn't care, and that really annoyed her. Ron didn't care either, though, so she'd be annoyed at both of us. Then she'd be really annoyed when we came to her asking for help with an essay due the next day."

Dudley laughed. "I can imagine. I didn't have any smart friends, so I usually got really bad grades." He paused. "Not that it matters now, of course. It's so funny, your life gets turned upside down..."

"Mine did too," agreed Harry. "Just at a younger age. And what's worse, everyone knew who I was."

"Yeah. I found out today that I'll be hearing the phrase 'Harry Potter's cousin' quite a lot." Responding to Harry's quizzical look, Dudley said, "Didn't you know there was a thing about it in that newspaper? Some social column--no, some article on the downtown area opening up after being closed. Hey, that reminds me, you never told me that it was the first day it opened after it was dangerous because of dementors," he added accusingly.

They got up as Molly called everyone to the table. "Well, it wasn't dangerous then. And I just didn't want to worry you." Harry nodded to Bill and Fleur, who Harry hadn't known were coming.

"Uh-huh," Dudley replied dubiously as they sat. "But that reminds me, why don't they just go nuts and attack the non-magical population?"

Harry shrugged, but as usual, Hermione had the answer. "They only attack people with magical ability, apparently. Somehow the soul-sucking doesn't work with Muggles. Otherwise, they'd know about them, of course."

"But... Dudley was attacked three years ago," pointed out Harry. "If people knew that, wouldn't they have known he was a wizard?"

"No, all it takes is a very small amount of magical ability. Some people had their souls sucked who were thought to be Squibs, but had just enough ability to be vulnerable to it. Since Dudley is your cousin, people would have thought he had a small amount, but only very small, since he wasn't invited to Hogwarts. Or so they thought."

"Interesting... Petunia didn't get the letter... does magical ability skip generations?"

"Oh, yes," said Hermione, sipping her soup. "Like any other genetic characteristic, it can be dormant for generations. Though to be honest, I don't know if it's genetic exactly. It would be sooo interesting if they could do DNA testing for it, isolate the gene... I wonder if it's dominant or recessive, or if it even works that way..."

"Yes, this is the kind of thing that gets Hermione worked up," grinned Ron.

"Anyway, Dudley," said Harry, "you were saying there was something about you in the Prophet? I didn't see that."

"It was in the article about Diagon Alley reopening, near the end," said Molly. "It said that you were seen showing your cousin Dudley around, so they know his first name. I took him to the Social Services department, talked to a few people. When I introduced him, most of them said, 'oh, yes, Harry Potter's cousin."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Aren't you honored, Dudley, to be my cousin?"

"Apparently, I'm supposed to be," agreed Dudley.

"Oh, Harry, you need to show Dudley your place, he can't go there now because of the Fidelius Charm," said Molly, looking at Harry significantly.

Harry struggled to keep any expression off his face. It wasn't something he wanted to do, and here she was again, interfering in what should be his private life and decisions. He quickly turned to Bill. "Bill, how's the planning going?"

"Pretty well," said Bill, seemingly surprised by the quick change of subject. "I wanted to tell you, though, I talked to Kingsley today, he came by earlier. He leaned on me a bit to announce the bank sooner than I'd intended. Politics is part of it, but he also pointed out that we might not be the only ones with this idea; someone else could beat us to the punch. It's a good point; the goblins are alienating people so much that it wouldn't take a genius to see a good business opportunity. If they did, we could look like followers, not leaders, and the bank might not get the early publicity benefit that I think we will. So, I talked to Gleason a few hours ago."

Again, Harry was annoyed, and tried to hide it. "Why didn't you ask me first?"

"Don't worry, Harry, the article's embargoed." To Harry's blank look, he explained, "It's a media term, it means that it won't be reported until I give final permission. I anticipated your approval, but I did this just to make sure. You don't have any problem with it, do you?"

"No, I guess not. Is there something I have to do?"

"Yes," Bill said hesitantly, "and you may not like it, but I really do think it's necessary. I'd like him to come over and see the vault for himself, which would mean inviting him, to get past the Fidelius Charm."

Harry took a breath, again trying to control his emotions. "You're right, I don't like it. I really don't want the number of people who can just pop into Grimmauld Place to be any higher than it is right now."

"I know, and I understand that," said Bill. "But it's one thing for us to say, we have three million Galleons, and that's the security on which the bank rests. And if you said it personally, most people would believe it. But it's very much another for a veteran Prophet economic reporter to see it with his own eyes, and write an article to that effect. Our credibility would be instantly established, and it would be high. And not much matters to a bank more than its credibility."

Harry could see the point, but was still very unhappy. "And then, he can just waltz over to my place whenever he wants."

Bill started to talk at the same time as Arthur, to whom he deferred. "Harry, you didn't grow up in a wizarding home, so you may not know very clearly how fireplaces work," said Arthur. "First of all, it's considered very rude to visit someone's home by fireplace without notice when you don't have a relationship with them in which it's very clear that it's all right to do that. I don't have to know Gleason personally to know that he'd never do that.

"Secondly, the kind of situation you're talking about is what's called an 'open fireplace,' where anyone can come, and it's very rare. Only businesses have them, and then, only during business hours. You can tell your fireplace not to let anyone through at specific times, or certain people at certain times. Usually, only family members and close, trusted friends have unrestricted access. Yours is set for unrestricted access mainly because it was the headquarters for the Order, and everyone was trusted. You could let Gleason through once, and set it never to allow him again if you wanted to. Nobody would use fireplaces if anybody could just go through anytime. It just wouldn't be safe."

There was silence for a moment as everyone ate; it seemed to Harry as if nobody was starting other topics of conversation until he'd replied to this one. He still felt resistance to the idea, but now understood there was no logical reason for it. Maybe I just feel safe there, he thought, and more people knowing makes it less safe. "Well, it was never explained to me like this," he allowed. "I suppose I can live with it. But I still don't want to do it any more than I have to."

"You shouldn't have to," responded Bill. "After we're done, I'll pop over to the Prophet and get him. The whole thing shouldn't take long. He's on deadline, so he won't make it any longer than he has to."

"Oh, Bill," said Ron, "I just remembered, some of the Muggle-borns I've been talking to have asked about the Gringotts thing, since some of them have money in there that would really be helpful right now. They don't understand why the goblins have taken such a hard line, and continue doing it, even when public opinion is so strongly against them; they're obviously not getting anywhere. Can you think of any reason?"

Bill shook his head regretfully. "Even among those of us who know goblins reasonably well, there's a strong sense of surprise. Gleason knows them, and we talked about it earlier, but couldn't come up with anything more than speculation, that some very hard-line goblins have gotten influence in the goblin world. In any society, there will always be people who insist that a hard line is the best way to secure benefits for their people, or pride. Then when that attitude provokes conflict, they use that conflict to enhance their own power, saying that they're strong, and only they can keep people safe, look out for them, and that anyone who doesn't agree with them isn't loyal. Goblin or human, usually that keeps hard-liners in power for a while."

Ron raised his eyebrows. "Well, that's going to be a little hard to explain to people at the Ministry, but I'll do my best. How did you know all that?"

Hermione scoffed. "Paying attention in History of Magic will do it."

"Sorry, Hermione, but I didn't either," grinned Bill. "It was my own reading after joining Gringotts. I've learned that with a very few exceptions--such as yourself--you learn much better when you read for yourself than when you do it for school."

"That pattern is all over history," put in Arthur. "It's practically a formula. But so many people don't pay close attention to history that the formula keeps working, it's not seen for what it is."

"But Kingsley's not a hard-liner," protested Molly.

"About this, he's acting a bit like one," said Arthur. "But I understand your point. Usually, it's the leader pushing the people's buttons, manipulating their emotions to justify his actions. Here, it's almost the other way around--Kingsley is practically forced by politics to do what he's doing. What makes the situation so incendiary is Harry." He glanced at Harry, an unspoken apology for what he felt he had to say. "Not Harry personally, of course, but as a symbol. To the wizarding community, he's a hero, the kind who comes along once in a century. To the goblins, he's an unrepentant criminal. I'm no expert, but I don't see how we can bridge that gap."

Ron looked annoyed. "As one of the people who rode out of there on that dragon, I don't see how any thinking person--all right, being--can say anything other than, it was necessary. Saying it was an insult, that Harry or we should apologize, or moaning about how much money it cost is just deliberately looking at only one side of an issue, not even trying to be fair. I don't see why I should waste my time trying to be fair to them, when they'd obviously prefer that we were still living under Voldemort, which we would if we hadn't taken the dragon."

"And no reasonable human would argue with what Ron just said," agreed Bill, "which is why what you did is such a flashpoint, seen so differently by the two sides. By any human definition, the goblins are not reasonable--the baby and the Knut. I've heard the goblins compared to abused dogs. You hit a dog, kick it, punish it for no reason, and pretty soon it becomes continually defensive and aggressive, because you've conditioned it to do so. Some people say it's useful to look at goblins that way."

"Well, Bill," said Hermione, "I know what humans have done to goblins in the past, and it's pretty bad, but it's been a hundred years since anything like that happened. Wouldn't a new generation be able to let go of old hatred?"

"You'd think," Bill agreed. "But goblins can live a long time; their average lifespan is a hundred and ten years, and a few can reach a hundred and fifty." Hermione's eyebrows went up. "I'm surprised you missed that in your reading," he gently teased her. "So, there are no doubt living goblins, in positions of power in their community, who have vivid memories of human mistreatment. Shorter-lived humans, who inflicted the mistreatment, have mostly forgotten. Longer-lived goblins, who suffered it, remember very well. Strict adherence to the law is their protection when dealing with us. Kingsley's pardon of you, while virtually a political necessity, was very inflammatory to them; it suggested that the rules had suddenly changed, that we were abrogating a long-held understanding. So, their attempted kidnapping of Harry is, I'd imagine, seen by them as an attempt to enforce justice when we haven't."

"If you were Minister," asked Hermione, "what would you do?"

Bill's discouraged expression suggested that there was no easy answer. "Ideally, I'd negotiate with them, offer a public expression of regret, work out some settlement involving gold and a new dragon, maybe pay for the repairs to Gringotts. Rationally, it would be the best result. But any Minister who did that would be removed from office very quickly; people wouldn't stand for it."

"Speaking of which," asked Ron, "how do Ministers get removed from office, and appointed?"

Hermione gave him an impatient look. "Honestly, Ron, why should they even bother having History of Magic classes?"

"I've wondered that myself," Ron replied with a falsely casual air.

"Don't you remember reading about the Council of Elders?"

"Oh, yeah, a bunch of portraits, right?"

"A bunch of portraits," she muttered disdainfully. "What an understanding of our government. Our Minister is chosen by 'a bunch of portraits.'"

It appeared to Harry that Ron might be getting genuinely angry, not just engaging in their usual bantering argument, so he decided to help Ron. "I don't know any more than Ron does," he volunteered.

"I think I helped you two with a few too many essays," she sighed. "Probably you knew you didn't have to study much because I'd always help you out." Glancing over at Dudley, Harry saw him smiling; he supposed Dudley found the whole thing funny because it didn't involve him.

To Harry's surprise, Bill was smiling a little as well. "If only people knew, the three heroes of the moment were sitting around bickering about homework. Well, Harry and Ron, and Dudley, since you couldn't know... the Council of Elders is a group of five portraits, each of whom is considered to be the greatest political leader of his century, going back the last five centuries. They keep informed on politics, and they choose the person as Minister who they think is best suited at that time. Now, that person doesn't automatically become Minister; you can refuse, as Dumbledore did seventeen years ago. But hardly anyone ever refuses. For example, they shoved out Fudge and put in Scrimegour when it was clear that Voldemort had returned, because they felt he was better suited for the situation. They can gauge popular support, and political standing."

"Strange system," said Dudley. "Of course, everything about the magical world seems strange to me." After a slight pause, he looked at Harry. "Um, Harry... there's something I wondered if you'd help me with."

Harry wondered if it had to do with letting him visit Grimmauld Place; he wasn't thrilled with the idea, but supposed there was no way out of it if Dudley asked directly. "Mmm-hmmm?"

"I wondered if you'd go with me to my parents' house, and join me while I talk to them."

Harry was so dumbfounded that he literally thought he'd misheard. "What??"

"I'd like you to be in the room when I talk to them."

Now that he was sure, he still couldn't believe it. "Dudley, you must be joking. I'm, like, their least favorite person in the world. What could I possibly do except make the situation much, much worse?"

"Harry, he's asking you something that's important to him--" began Molly. Unable to help himself, Harry shot her an angry look. She stopped her sentence and glanced away; Harry turned his attention back to Dudley.

Dudley was more assertive than Harry had seen him since retrieving him from the Muggle world. "Harry, I don't care that they don't like you. I'm not asking you to be polite to them. It's just that... they're my parents, and I don't want to give up on them. I want to have contact with them, or at least, not say goodbye to them forever. So, I have to talk to them at some point. I have no idea what Mum is going to say, how she'll react. Like you said, she's in denial, and I'm afraid if I go there alone, she'll stay in denial, and try to drag me with her. I want you there because you'd be a reminder that she can't deny it. You're living proof that I'm a wizard. She'd have no choice but to accept what I am."

Harry could see Dudley's point, but was still staggered. "But, why me?" he asked plaintively. "Why not..." He trailed off, as a candidate didn't leap to mind.

"Molly offered," said Dudley, his tone one of appreciation. "I thought about it, but it wouldn't work. Mum would just shut down around a stranger. I think she'd just refuse to say anything while Molly was there. But Mum knows you, and you know her. If she said something that wasn't true, you'd know it. You know the situation in our house; Molly doesn't. You'd be much better."

Harry took a deep breath, and looked down. A part of him refused to accept the idea. "I don't know if I can do that, Dudley..."

Dudley was becoming impatient, and a little angry. With obvious reluctance, he said, "Look, Harry, I'm sorry about how I was with you when we were kids. I really am. But this--"

"This has nothing to do with that!" Harry shot back, emotion rising. "I can..." He took another breath, trying to calm down, as he saw concerned looks from the others around the table. He found himself wishing he could have had this conversation privately, but the Burrow was too small to be very private anyway. "I can forgive you for that, and I do." He met Dudley's eyes to emphasize the point. "You were just a kid, and they trained you to be like that. They treated me like that, so why shouldn't you? But them, I can't forgive, not that they'd ask anyway, or apologize. They're adults, they should have known better. Being around them, having them say the kind of things to me that I know they'll say... is something I really, really don't want to do. I'd think you could understand that."

There was silence; others, especially Bill and Arthur, looked uncomfortable, as if they were intruding on something that wasn't their business. Dudley looked somewhat chastened. "I... I thought it didn't bother you."

"I tried not to let it," said Harry quietly. "But day in, day out, all those years... I think I'd be the one in denial if I said it didn't bother me. I think I was happy to find out I was a wizard, because it meant they'd be scared of me." A thought came to his mind, and he let out a wry, bitter chuckle. "If you punish a dog, for no reason..."

Dudley nodded. "I'm sorry. I didn't think of that."

"No reason you should," Harry shrugged. A few seconds of silence crawled by. "Look, I'll... I'll think about it. That's all I can say right now."

Again, Dudley nodded. "Thanks."

Fleur spoke indignantly. "I am sure that what you say is true, Harry, but it is unbelievable to me that a person like you was treated in such a way. You deserved so much better."

He glanced up at her with a slight nod, thanking her for the thought. "Well, it's the sort of thing I hope to put behind me. Anyway, Bill, you can go ahead and call Gleason, we'll do the thing." Bill nodded, and conversation returned to topics like the Ministry. I wish that didn't bother me, thought Harry as the others talked.

* * * * *

Next: Chapter 8, Bank of the Phoenix: Harry goes to the Dursley home to help Dudley, then to the Wizengamot to give testimony about Malfoy.

From Chapter 8: Dear Harry, thank you so much for your interesting letter. I feel as though I suddenly got to know you a lot better than I had before. You're kind of well known for not talking about yourself much, so I was very complimented that you told me what you did.

Harry chuckled as he read. Still as direct as ever, he thought. I didn't know I was well known for that, but I suppose it makes sense, when everyone's been digging into your life since you were eleven.