Harry Potter and the Antiquity Link

Chapter 12

The Life That Could Never Be

The next day was gloomy, at least if one looked outside. Dark gray clouds dominated an overcast sky; enough rain drizzled down to be annoying. Well, at least the walk in the park with Dad was nice, thought Harry. He ate breakfast with his parents and read the Prophet as usual, finding himself again annoyed at Skeeter for writing that 'surely no other Auror could have held out against such outrages longer.' He knew she had no basis for saying such a thing, but more importantly, it could easily offend his Auror colleagues. He knew the most he would hear about it would be some teasing, but things like that could have an impact on his relationships with them.

At the Park, he got the newest (and still uninformative) briefing, getting involved in a chat that five of them were having in the briefing room. Someone mentioned in passing the morning's Skeeter article; Harry decided to take the opportunity to express his regret at what Skeeter had written; two of the women waved him off. "To tell you the truth, I'm not sure she was wrong," said one, a mid-thirties woman named Stephanie. "You held up amazingly well."

"Well, the point is she shouldn't have written it that way, and I wish she hadn't," said Harry. "It's like I think I'm better than the rest of you."

"If anyone thinks you think that, then they have their head up their ass, because they want to think badly of you," she said firmly. "We all know how Skeeter is; you really shouldn't worry about it."

"What are you up to today?" another asked.

"Going to check the library for a few things, maybe do another patrol through Diagon Alley. Let people get used to seeing me there."

After a few more minutes of conversation, he walked over to the library, where he saw a gray-haired, slightly paunchy man in one of the comfortable chairs, reading a book. "Hello, Robert," Harry greeted him.

"Harry," Spencer returned the greeting briefly before getting back to his book. It occurred to Harry that Spencer was the type whom it would be good to ask a few things, so he decided to see if Spencer minded being bothered.

"Robert, do you mind if I ask you a few questions?"

Seeming slightly surprised, Spencer placed a bookmark in his book and closed it. "Sure. What is it?"

"Well, I didn't have much of a chance when I started to do this kind of thing, but I wondered if you might tell me some of the kinds of stuff that an Auror needs to know, but I don't know yet. That sort of thing."

Spencer paused; Harry wondered what he was thinking. "Is it me for any particular reason?"

Harry shook his head. "I'm sure I'll be asking a few people." Deciding to make a joke as he'd seen Aurors do in similar situations, he added, "But I wanted to ask you first, because you're obviously the smartest Auror." He hoped his tone made it clear that it was a joke.

Spencer didn't smile, but Harry thought he saw amusement in Spencer's eyes. "And the one most susceptible to insincere flattery."

"Whatever you say," said Harry.

Now, Spencer smiled. "Sure, what the hell. I have nothing better to do. But I'd rather not talk here; I don't want people coming in here and second-guessing whatever I'm telling you. 'Oh, no, Robert, don't tell him that. I have a story that's much more pertinent.' That sort of thing. We'll go out into the beautiful sunshine."

"Sounds good. Where's that?"

"We can imagine it, anyway. I'll escort you, I know where I'm going."

Harry nodded, and tried to keep off his face his sudden unease with putting himself in anyone else's hands; if Spencer were hostile, he could take Harry anywhere, and probably overpower him. Harry reminded himself that he had asked Spencer for advice, and Spencer had a point. Spencer held on to Harry's right arm, and they Disapparated.

They Apparated into what appeared to be countryside; it looked very nice, and no doubt would have been beautiful were it not for the current weather. There was a large, grassy field with several cows grazing, and a few small hills with just two or three trees on each one, one of them obviously at least a hundred years old, judging by its size. It seemed like an appropriate scene for a Muggle picture postcard.

Spencer nodded. "Beautiful, isn't it? My mother is a Muggle-born; this is her hereditary property. I have two brothers; one of them takes care of the place, and her, since she's rather getting on."

"You weren't harassed about her birth?"

Spencer shook his head, and they started walking. Spencer conjured what looked like an oversized umbrella, the kind one saw on beaches to provide shade, made it invisible, and it hovered with them as they walked. "Of course, we knew that the Ministry would fall, and that they'd be targeting anyone with Muggle connections. Not everyone happens to know everyone else's birth status, and some of us--Aurors and other powerful people--were able to have our records falsified. As far as the Thicknesse government was concerned, I was a pure-blood.

"Now, before I forget, two things before we really start. One is to say that after what happened, with the card, it'd be very understandable that you'd be gun-shy about going someplace where you don't know where you're going, with someone you don't know that you can trust 100%."

Harry cut in before Spencer could continue. "I wouldn't have come here if I didn't--"

"Relax, Harry. You can admit something that's perfectly obvious, and anyone who knows what's what won't be offended. You can't be 100% sure, is all I'm saying. You simply don't know me well enough. Anyone in my position who got offended would be someone who didn't want to admit the truth, either because they had issues, or they wanted to deceive you in some way. If someone is pretending that something that's true isn't, you want to think about why. That's a good thing to keep in mind, both for being an Auror and for life in general.

"As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted," he went on as Harry gave him a small smile, "when I suggested coming out here, your eyes showed that you were nervous for just a flash. Then you were back to your normal face. That's understandable, as I said. The point is that especially in dealing with people in your capacity as an Auror, you have to keep any surprise off your face, even that very understandable flash. You need to react as if you knew perfectly well what they were going to say, even if they say Fudge and Thicknesse were having a wild homosexual affair. You just nod, like, of course, or like, that's bullshit, but either way, you're not surprised. By the way, you know the joke about that, right?" Harry shook his head. "That's why I picked those two," explained Spencer. "The joke going around the Aurors after Thicknesse was put in was that they were having an affair because Pius liked the Thicknesse of Cornelius's Fudge."

Harry winced and giggled at the same time. "Yeah, I know," said Spencer. "The maturity level of the joke is about first year at Hogwarts. But we're all human, and we all like stupid jokes once in a while. Especially a disgusting one like that, it reminds us not to take ourselves too seriously. Just an opinion here, but anyone who turns his nose up at that joke is trying too hard to persuade people of something. The type who'd never admit that he ever farted or picked his nose. That's worth knowing too.

"In fact, and I'm getting away from part of my topic here, but I'll get back to it... a large part of what's important to know as an Auror is to know people, to understand people. The paper credentials, the N.E.W.T.s, are... well, maybe not crap, as I was going to say, but definitely less important than things like judgment, people skills, and character. Who knows how many good Aurors we've missed out on because of idiots at the Ministry imposing these rules on us. The stuff you learn on the N.E.W.T.s, we can teach. The things I mentioned, you either have them or you don't. Anyway, you have to understand psychology. Why do people act in certain ways? What motivates them? Are you a friend or enemy to them, in their eyes? You want to get in their shoes, see things through their eyes. If you can, if you can understand them, you can better predict how they'll react to any particular thing, and the more effective an Auror you'll be."

"This is the kind of thing I've never been all that good at," admitted Harry.

"Well, you're young," pointed out Spencer. "Most people your age don't get this stuff. But I think you will, with time. The thing that gives me hope about you--it's not the bravery or the toughness, or the crap that Skeeter writes about. It's that you don't pretend to be someone you're not. You ask for help, and you're sincere. You don't let what Skeeter writes go to your head. When the whole society is telling you how great you are, it would be easy to believe it; you don't. Don't let that change, and you'll be all right." Harry nodded, but was silent, having nothing to say.

"There's a book in the library, called 'Why We Do What We Do,' that I'd recommend you take a look at. Nothing can teach you like experience, but it'll tell you some things to look for. Now, do you know why understanding people is so important?"

Harry nodded, remembering his trip to Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley the day before. "An important job for Aurors is intelligence gathering."

"That's right. Everyone knows you're an Auror, and generally, Aurors are trusted. Most people understand you won't use the information they give you in a way that'll hurt them. But some people will lie to you, and some will tell you a half-truth, which is even more dangerous. If you can understand them, it'll save you a lot of grief."

A question popped into Harry's head. "Why do people become Dark wizards?"

Spencer chuckled lightly. "If we knew the answer to that, we could make sure parents did what they should do, and we could all go home. Well, not really, but it seems that way.

"That's a good question, Harry. Most people wouldn't ask it, because it seems to betray a lack of sophistication, but it's the question you and every Auror should be asking. The basic answer is, we don't know. There seem to be two basic factors: one's childhood, and one's inborn character. I have a friend who is a living, breathing argument that inborn character trumps how one was raised--it's a long story--while your friend Draco Malfoy," as Harry understood from the wry glance that the word 'friend' had been used ironically, "seems to indicate that the reverse is true. Personally, I feel that both are important, and either or both can be responsible. Someone who's a psychopath, who seems to have been that way from very early on, that's someone who it's going to be hard to change." Harry thought about the memories of the very young Tom Riddle he'd seen. "But someone who's gone to the Dark side because he was raised that way, I think that's someone you have a hope of reaching, of changing.

"Now, another part of the answer to your question is that Dark magic is powerful, and it might appeal not only to those two groups, but also to people who might think of themselves as good, but victimized. They rationalize that they're just protecting themselves, but it's more that they're angry, and Dark magic appeals to people's anger. There's much more, of course, but you could probably look at almost any Dark wizard and see at least one of the three things I just mentioned in his life."

Harry thought about the few Dark wizards he knew well enough to make any kind of judgment. It seemed that Voldemort was in the first category, Draco Malfoy in the second, and Snape perhaps in the third. He wondered with discomfort how much his father's actions as a child had led to Snape's turn toward darkness. Had the encounter on the Hogwarts Express stirred such anger in Snape that the Hat had put him in Slytherin when he could have ended up in Ravenclaw? No one could know, of course, but it was both sad and interesting to consider.

"Thanks. That sounds useful," said Harry. He thought about his next question as they walked in silence. "So, about half of the Aurors left to fight Voldemort, and half stayed on, to work against him from the inside. You were one of the ones who stayed, right? Were you and the others able to accomplish anything?"

Spencer didn't react immediately, but Harry thought he saw a flicker of sadness cross the older man's face. He let out a sigh, and started his answer. "That, Harry, was one of the worst judgments the Aurors made in the time I was there. At the time, Kingsley said we should all leave, and in retrospect, he was right. There was a reasonable tactical case to be made for staying, but I have to admit that I stayed not because I thought it was the right thing to do. Fundamentally, I did it because I didn't want to be on the run. I had a quiet, pleasant life with many creature comforts. I didn't want to lose that, so I convinced myself that staying was a good idea.

"Here's another bit of advice, Harry. When you reach a decision, especially a moral one, if you're uncomfortable with it, re-examine it carefully. If you're uncomfortable, it may be because your conscience thinks it's a bad idea, and your ego is trying to override your conscience. Judging from your recent actions, you seem like the type who listens to his conscience over his ego, but it's still a good idea to be watchful. We're all human, and subject to many temptations."

They had reached the top of a small hill that provided a very nice view of the ranch and the area surrounding it. "I often used to come out here and sit," said Spencer as he conjured two chairs and took a seat in one as Harry did likewise. "It's a good place to clear your mind. Sometimes it's a good idea to get away from everything in your life, have some time alone, even if it's only a few hours. You go through your life every day focusing on the details, and sometimes you don't think about the big picture. What's important in your life, what you want to accomplish, and so forth."

Spencer paused, and Harry knew he was going to get back to the story. "So, I stayed, figuring I could always leave if things got bad. But Voldemort was clever; his Head of the Auror Office didn't do anything startling, or make any sudden changes. Nobody was asked what happened to those who left, as we expected to be. Nobody was prevented from doing their job, even if it meant catching Dark wizards. Of course, if we did, and turned them over to the political people, they were soon released. But no one interfered with us directly.

"It wasn't for a couple of months that things started to slowly change. Some of us, including me, got a raise in salary. I should have realized then that I was among those being targeted, but I hadn't had a raise for a while, so I didn't think about it much. They had evidently made judgments about who they thought they could corrupt, and who they couldn't. The ones they could, they started treating better than the others. Meetings with high Ministry officials, asking if there was anything they could do for us, gifts they pretended were worthless but were actually quite valuable, things like that." Spencer paused hesitantly, then added, "Once, a woman who found me unaccountably attractive, and was more than eager to go home with me. It all happened so gradually that it was easy not to notice, even though I'm not so foolish to think that a woman thirty years younger than me thought I was irresistible. This kind of thing, by the way, is one type of the Auror character tests they give when you're young. When I was young, I would've passed it, turned her down. But when you're older, your ego gets weaker in certain areas. You have a stronger need to feel that you're still attractive to women. At this point, I think the Auror test should be given occasionally throughout one's career, not only when you're training." He let out a wry chuckle. "Constant vigilance, as Alastor would have said. Even twenty years ago, I'd have passed this test."

"Did she do anything?" asked Harry.

"Oh, yes. She did a lot."

"No, I mean--"

"I know what you mean. No, not in the way you mean. In that sense, it wasn't a trap. It was, of course, in a larger sense. Harry... did anyone direct you to me in any way, say, you should talk to Robert?"

Surprised, Harry shook his head. "No."

"And you had no idea whether I was one of the ones who could be trusted?"

"I wasn't thinking about it like that," said Harry. "I just thought there were people I could learn from, whether or not they had done anything bad during the Voldemort time. I guess I just thought of them as two separate things."

"I can understand that," said Spencer thoughtfully. "It's very... non-judgmental of you, in a way. And ironically, you can probably learn more from those who can't be trusted, or those who failed in a way I suspect you wouldn't. We learn more from our failures than our successes.

"I asked the question because I thought Kingsley might have sent you to me. It wouldn't be unreasonable for him to have done so, though it would be a bit of an intrusion, which is probably why he didn't do it. The story I'm about to tell you, I told him a few days after you did in Voldemort. Because I did that, I believe I'm considered to be trustworthy. I can't know for sure, of course. I didn't tell him because I wanted to be considered trustworthy, though; I did it because I thought I needed to tell someone, almost like a confession. It was him because he's now Minister, and I thought he should know the true status of all the Aurors.

"I'm telling you, Harry, because one day, you'll be the leader of the Aurors. I don't mean the Head of the Auror Office, though you may be that too. I mean that you'll be looked up to, respected by the others. Your example will be followed; other Aurors will look to you for leadership. You need to know where people can go wrong, how it happens. It can be piece by piece, or it can be all at once."

Harry remained silent as Spencer again paused. "One night, about three months ago, one of the Ministry people who'd been wining and dining me took me to dinner, and after dinner, said he had something he wanted me to see. We took a Portkey to a room, one with no windows. There were a few pieces of furniture, and a bed; it was as if it was someone's den, or extra room.

"Then another man came into the room, obviously a Death Eater, though he wasn't familiar to me. He was holding onto the arm of a young woman whose wrists were tied together with rope. She looked barely old enough to be of age; I don't know whether she was or not. And... they had removed all of her clothes."

Harry shuddered as Spencer continued. "I realized at once what they had in mind. I won't bother reciting the whole conversation, but basically the Death Eater said that I was moving up in the world, that I would be becoming very valuable to the government, and the young woman was a present to commemorate my new importance.

"I tried to bluff my way out of it, saying that I'd get on with it as soon as they left the room, but the Death Eater wasn't buying it. He said, no, he had to watch. He said there was no problem doing it while someone was watching, and that he'd be happy to demonstrate. I told him he didn't need to.

"I asked what would happen if I didn't do it. He said he would kill me, then have his way with her, and none too gently. So, this is my problem: he says that, but she's his prisoner. He can have his way with her any time he wants--it's not as though he's going to refrain because of anything I do--so that's not really the threat. The threat is that if I don't do it, he's going to kill me. That's really what it boils down to." Harry found himself not wanting to hear the rest of the story, but he knew he should listen. He almost asked for the woman's name or a description, but quickly decided against it. It was better that he didn't know.

"Now, before I continue, let me ask you, Harry... what would you have done, in this situation?"

The first thought that crossed Harry's mind was that he never would have allowed the situation to come to that, but he knew that wasn't the point behind Spencer's question. "I wouldn't have done it."

Spencer nodded. "I thought as much. Now, imagine this scenario. Same thing, except they tell you that if you don't do what they want, they'll torture her, use the Cruciatus Curse on her until she goes crazy. What would you do?"

"They did that?"

"I didn't say that. I'm asking, what would you do."

Harry thought; it was a difficult question. How to choose between rape and torture, both unspeakable acts? Would I be responsible for the result that she'll suffer whichever way I choose? Or is it just something they're doing to her, and using me to decide is like flipping a coin? Rape is horrible, but going crazy pretty much has to be worse. What if it was going to happen to Cho, or Hermione, what would I do?

He found himself unable to decide. "I don't know. A lot would depend on what I thought the woman wanted, or rather, was most afraid of. I'd lean towards doing it, though I doubt I could actually manage it."

"Understandable," agreed Spencer. "To answer your question, no, they didn't do that. But afterwards, I thought about that scenario, and lots of other similar ones. I told myself that they were doing this to her, that I was just the instrument they chose. Maybe I prefer to think about the scenario I gave you because there, the case for doing what they demanded is a lot stronger.

"What got to me more than anything else was the girl herself. I walked closer to her, I'm not sure why. She looked like she'd been held for some time; she was pale and thin, a little too thin. You'd expect a girl who'd been through what she had to be terrified, cowering, in fear, that sort of thing. And she was, obviously, very unhappy with the situation. But she was less afraid than I was. When I got close to her, she spoke in the lightest whisper, so only I could hear her. She said, 'please do it.' And her eyes..." Spencer looked down, and closed his eyes for a moment. "I saw her eyes, and I knew without a doubt that she wasn't asking me to do it because of what they might do to her. She was asking because of what they might to do me. I couldn't believe the bravery I saw there. Under normal circumstances, it would be humbling. Under these circumstances... it was all I could do not to break down. It's like... a light, a glimmer of the best of humanity, in a very dark place. Like you, walking out to that forest to meet your fate.

"Unfortunately, I'm not nearly as brave as you are, or as she is. I believe, after many sleepless nights, that if I had it to do again, I wouldn't do it. But it seemed I wasn't quite ready to die right then. I hoped I physically wouldn't be able to, but of course there's a spell that changes that, and the Death Eater did it on me. So, God help me, I did it. I just focused on trying not to cry, and getting it over with as soon as possible."

Very affected by the story, Harry wasn't sure what to think. He was sure he wouldn't have done it, but found it difficult to judge the older Auror. He asked the question that came to his mind. "Why did they have you do that? I mean, what was the purpose?"

"The purpose, Harry, was to corrupt me. They hoped I would do it willingly, in which case I would really be one of them. A few Aurors did, or did that kind of thing, willingly. Even though I didn't do it willingly, I did it, and they took images, images which they could obviously make public any time. But it was not only the images, it was... the fact that I did it, even to save my own life, is a stain. They know that; it's the whole point. They may not be able to make you evil, like them, but if they can make you do evil things, they're halfway home."

There was silence for a minute; the two didn't make eye contact. Harry gazed into the distance, watching the cows. "Do you think," he asked, "that the Death Eaters had already... used her for that before, that it wasn't the first time that had happened to her?"

"You mean, had she already been raped," said Spencer. "I know 'rape' is an ugly word, but let's call a thing what it is. I only hesitate to apply it to what I did because my action was coerced. Maybe I'm just fooling myself. But to answer the question... yes, of course, almost certainly. These are Death Eaters, Harry. They're evil. Do you think they're going to refrain from raping a female captive because of gentlemanly impulses? I know, you're young, you don't have much experience with this kind of thing, and Hogwarts doesn't really teach it. But I would be very surprised if that young woman had not been raped many times before they brought her into that room."

Deeply saddened at the thought, Harry realized that it made sense. He felt he wanted to ask more about what had been going on in Spencer's mind when he made the decision, but realized that it would be much like when he tried to answer Gleason's question about going into the forest; it was just something that either you could do, or you couldn't. He thought about why Spencer had told him the story, and decided to have a guess. "I guess the point of your story is that we have ideals of how we want to behave, but we don't always do as well as we'd hope?"

Spencer let out a light chuckle. "That's a kind way of putting it. Yes, that's one reason. Another is that because you're young, you may not understand that not everyone is like you; not everyone would be brave in that situation. But the main thing is what I said before, about your future. If you're the Auror leader, you may have to deal with a situation like mine. You need to understand both human frailty, and the need for redemption in the face of failure. I can't undo what I did. But I hope that someday, in a similar situation, I may make a better choice. Now, not everyone is like this. Some Aurors did worse things than I did, and rationalize it better to themselves. They can sleep at night. But a fundamentally good person can do a very bad thing, and want nothing more than to make it right. We come in all sizes and shapes, in terms of morality and strength of character.

"One more thing I'll say, before I'm done with this, hopefully never to speak about it again. If I ever see again the Death Eater involved in that event, I'll kill him. No doubt about it. I wouldn't care if I spent the rest of my life in prison, though I'm sure Kingsley would pardon me. And if I ever meet that young woman again... it would be a struggle not to run from the room in shame. I know she would, and does, forgive me; in a sense, she did even before it happened. In her eyes, I would be a victim as well. But it would still be difficult to face her."

Harry could well imagine that, and wondered how well he'd be able to sleep if he had done what Spencer had. Even considering Spencer's stated reason, Harry was still surprised that Spencer had told him what he had, as it was so personal and shameful. He imagined it was for somewhat the same reason that some Muggles went to priests and confessed their sins. Still...

He decided to change the topic, and ask no more questions about what Spencer had talked about. "Why do you assume I'll be the leader of the Aurors someday?"

Spencer stood, as did Harry, and they walked again, the invisible umbrella following them as the rain picked up. "To me, and I think most Aurors, it seems obvious, but I suppose I can understand why it's not to you. Not that you didn't have help, but you saved our society, our freedom. It's a certainty that you'll be written about in history books; what you did will always be remembered. It's natural that you'll be highly respected, and once you have some experience under your belt, even those older than you will respect your opinions and tend to defer to your judgment. And they may have used a fake Chocolate Frog card to get you, but I'm sure that the real one isn't far behind."

Harry shook his head. "It's all still a little hard to accept. I admit, I get this kind of thing whenever I go to Diagon Alley, but still..." He trailed off and shrugged.

"Well, maybe it's better not to accept it. Just be who you are, go about your business, and let that take care of itself. So, is there any other advice I can give you besides 'don't allow yourself to become slowly corrupted by evil?'"

Harry smiled at the joke, then quickly wiped it off his face as he realized Spencer might not have meant for him to smile. "I don't know what to ask. Just whatever you think might be useful."

Spencer thought for a moment. "The advice I'd give to you, Harry Potter, will be a bit different than it would be to any usual young Auror. Besides, of course, that I would tell you that story. But for you, I'd say that you should cultivate relationships, friendships if possible, with powerful people. If an Auror is well-connected politically, he can be more effective. It shouldn't be that way, but it is, and you have the potential to be as well-connected as you want to be."

"Well, I'm friends with the Minister," Harry pointed out with a straight face.

"Yes, like that," agreed Spencer. "That helps. But you know what I mean. Aside from that... this shouldn't be too hard for you, but always remember that as an Auror, your job is to serve the people. No matter how famous and honored you become, no matter how rich or powerful, if you stop wanting to serve the people, then you should quit being an Auror. Recent events, of course, have reminded me of that. That's what it's all about.

"Another would be, get to know your fellow Aurors. Lately, we hadn't had as good personal connections as we've had in the past, and I think that hurt us. If we'd been more cohesive, we might have done better during the past year. So, make it your business to get to know the people who join after you. Welcome them, and don't take an attitude just because you're older than them. There are some here who do that--"

"You mean, like Horny," Harry interrupted.

Spencer chuckled. "Well, he's kind of a special case. He doesn't discriminate, he gets on everybody. Always with humor, though it does get a bit tiresome. And he may dish it out, but he can take it too. No, I meant--"

Spencer cut himself off as Harry felt what seemed like mild static electricity on the back of his left hand; it pulsed on and off. Not unlike the way Voldemort had summoned Death Eaters by means of their tattoos, it meant the Auror was supposed to report to a special briefing room at the Park. "You too?" asked Spencer. Harry nodded. They reached for their wands and Disapparated.

Specifically designed for briefings, the room was completely white, with no chairs or furniture. Only important, time-critical briefings were held there, so everyone stood while listening; it emphasized that time was of the essence. The room's size was magically adjustable, so it could hold all forty-two Aurors if necessary. It was smaller than usual; a second after Harry arrived, he saw nine other Aurors, and no more arrived.

Hestia faced them and spoke. "There's no time to lose. Get your brooms and get back here, instantly."

Harry Disapparated to his bedroom at his home, snatched the broom where it hung on the wall--Aurors were warned to be prepared for such emergencies--and was back in the room in less than five seconds. Fast as he was, half of the Aurors were already back with their brooms; the slowest one was two seconds slower than Harry.

"Someone with critical information just got away from us, but we were able to put a TT on him." A TT was a temporary trace, a spell that allowed a person to be tracked, but for no more than a minute. "He Apparated to the south coast."

"Dover?" asked Spencer. Harry realized that in going to the point in England closest to France, the man was trying to leave the country. A person could Apparate anywhere in their own country, but each country put up Apparition barriers preventing Apparition from one country to another.

Hestia nodded. "The trace is gone, but he had to be heading to France. He'll hop on a broom, cross the Channel at its narrowest point. A Portkey is being set up at the coast. With any luck, he won't have more than a couple minutes' head start. Let's hope he isn't on a Firebolt."

If he is, we won't catch him, thought Harry. All the Aurors had Firebolts provided by the Ministry, but Harry preferred to use the one Sirius had given him. He realized that the target, not being able to Apparate across the Channel, hoped to reach France as soon as possible, and then be able to Apparate, where he would be lost in Europe, undetectable.

"We using magic detectors?" asked another Auror, referring to the small, portable devices that allowed some types of magic use to be detected within a certain radius.

Hestia nodded. "Your vision will have a greater range than the detectors, but it can't hurt. They should be arriving any second." Sure enough, an Auror assistant Apparated in with a tray with twelve detectors; every Auror Summoned one and attached it to his or her arm, then set it to not detect any magic done by any person or item in that room.

Another Auror assistant Apparated in, holding a wooden wheel with multiple pegs sticking out from the edge, resembling somewhat a skipper's wheel on old sailing ships. Its purpose, of course, was multi-person Portkey travel. The Aurors formed a circle, and each gripped one of the pegs. "Portus," said the assistant.

The next thing Harry knew, he was standing on a beach, breathing ocean air. They dropped the Portkey as Hestia pointed her wand; a thick red beam came shooting out. "This direction leads to the nearest point of the coast of France. Fan out a bit, but be sure not to neglect the middle."

The ten Aurors who had been summoned mounted their brooms and took off. Harry headed towards the left side of the beam; as he ascended, he wondered exactly how long it would take the rain to drench his clothes. Even though it was only a light rain, he knew it wouldn't take long. There were spells one could do to protect from it, such as a moving shield, but they slowed down the rider, and right then, that was unacceptable. Getting wet wasn't going to stop an Auror from doing what was necessary, but it was annoying.

Harry knew that this kind of pursuit was something that was practiced in Auror training, but unfortunately, his training had been brief and cursory, as there had been little time for him to be properly trained. He remembered the days after Dumbledore's death, Kingsley approaching him to join the Aurors; he had eagerly accepted, mainly in the hope of tracking down and capturing the man who had betrayed and killed Dumbledore. He could never have believed that while Snape had done the latter, he had never done the former.

He tried to take his mind off such ruminations, and pay attention to what he was doing. He knew he'd been chosen both because he was trusted and because he was a good flier, but there were many things to keep in mind. He had to vary his altitude, as it would do no good to pass their target only to fly a mile under him and so miss him. He also had to stay at the proper distance from those on either side of him, and focus on going as fast as possible. Given the vast amount of possible vertical airspace, catching him would be a stroke of luck.

He also realized as he flew that in terms of varying his altitude, he faced an unfortunate trade-off: the more he did that, the less chance there was of overtaking the target. Annoyed, he decided to settle on an altitude of a few thousand feet and hope for the best. Three minutes into the trip, he was indeed soaked. He focused harder on maintaining full speed while constantly looking around him, and into the distance. He realized he was flying higher than most of the other Aurors, and supposed that his Seeker experience gave him greater confidence that he could spot a distant object while on a broom at full speed. He was sure that even if the target was close to the ground, he would still see him.

Two minutes later, he thought he saw something in the far distance, high above him. He wasn't sure if it was a bird, but he knew he had to find out. He started ascending, and after thirty seconds, he was sure that it was a person, and that it wasn't an Auror. He knew he had to alert the others, but he wasn't sure of the best way to go about it. He decided to shoot a beam of light, as Hestia had done, right at the target to signal the Aurors where they should head.

The target immediately started to descend at a 45-degree angle. Harry was surprised, as he was still below the target, and this would help him close the distance more quickly. He saw the Aurors start to converge, but as they also were coming from angles, he would reach the target first.

The target had now descended to the same altitude as Harry, who was now only about ten seconds behind him, though at broom speeds of up to 45 mph, that was still a fair distance. The man continued to descend; Harry decided to remain at his current altitude, or descend very slowly. He felt his priority now was to stay with the man, to make sure he could catch him as he was about to land. He could not, of course, be allowed to land. Harry hoped to be at the top of a circle of Aurors that the target couldn't escape.

As the coast of France loomed closer, the target continued to race downwards, still at a 45-degree angle, now perhaps 1000 feet from the ground. The man's current angle of descent wouldn't take him to the coast, so Harry assumed that he would level out over water once he reached sea level.

The other Aurors were getting closer, but Harry was surprised by their angles of approach: he had thought they would fan out around the target, creating a circle with the target at the center. Instead, they were heading for the spot on the ocean that his current trajectory was taking him; they intended to intercept him rather than trap him. Harry suddenly realized that he might be doing something wrong, and decided to change his tactics. He went into a dive, going straight towards the ocean as fast as he could, then altered his trajectory slightly to be on an intercept course. He was gaining, and had now closed to within a few hundred feet, mostly above and a little behind the target.

The man looked around, saw Harry, and did something Harry didn't expect: he dove straight down. Harry continued to follow him, but was sure he wouldn't be able to reach him before he reached the surface of the Channel. But what good would it do him? There was nowhere to go; he was as good as trapped.

Suddenly, Harry heard a magnified voice. "Harry! Stun him!" shouted one of the closing Aurors. He thought, why would I do that? The fall would kill the guy, and we need his information. Also, a hit from this distance would be a huge stroke of luck. But the target immediately started twisting and weaving, trying to avoid the incoming Stunner he expected. Deciding to do as he was told, Harry started firing Stunners, hoping to get lucky. As the target continued evasive maneuvers, though he was still headed straight down, Harry gained more ground.

The target was now perhaps a few hundred feet from the surface of the water; Harry wondered when the man would pull out of his dive, but he still continued straight down, and the other Aurors wouldn't get there in time to intercept him. Suddenly, it dawned on Harry: the man didn't intend to pull out of the dive, but intended to commit suicide by plowing into the water at full speed. Kicking himself for not having realized it before, Harry focused harder on the Stunners... the man would hit the water in less than ten seconds...

Finally, a Stunner found its target; the man went sprawling, separated from his broom; he fell to the ocean, but not as fast. Harry zoomed in to catch him, but he wouldn't be able to. The best he could do was the spell that Dumbledore had used to break his fall in that Quidditch match in third year... the man continued falling, slightly more slowly... another Auror got close enough to add his spell to Harry's, as the man got to within ten feet of the water... he fell in with a splash, Harry hoping frantically that whatever information the man had was not to be lost. The two nearest Aurors levitated the man's body from the water; one checked to make sure he could breathe. He signaled to the others that the man was still alive, and pointed to the coast of France, to which they were clearly supposed to proceed. Grim, forgetting that he was soaked to the skin and quite cold, Harry hoped for the best as he pulled alongside his comrades.

Landing in France, they were met by French Aurors, who had been alerted by their English counterparts. A Portkey had been set up; Harry imagined that it wasn't uncommon for the French and British wizarding governments to cooperate in such circumstances. After their captive was given first aid, they all took the Portkey back to the Park, where the captive was taken to the medical facility. Expecting to be debriefed, Harry was simply told to go home, change his clothes, and wait for further instructions. They came a half an hour later, when Hestia came by to tell him to report to the Auror Office. He did, and was surprised to be met there by a familiar face.

"Kingsley! What are you doing here?"

Kingsley shrugged. "Just because I'm Minister, it doesn't mean I can't poke my head into Auror business from time to time."

"Not that I care," said Harry. "I just thought you weren't supposed to."

"I'm not, but I can for important circumstances."

"Oh, yeah, did they get any information from him?"

"Well, that's important too," agreed Kingsley, "but that wasn't what I meant. I was referring to this, talking to you."

"Why is talking to me important?"

Kingsley gestured for Harry to sit in one of the guest chairs, and took another for himself. "Because I'm somewhat responsible. I had a lot to do with making you an Auror, and so I take a strong interest in your training. I've seen some memories from the others who went, and you're here to get the after-action briefing." Harry nodded, silent.

"First of all, you did a good job spotting him. You've got good eyes."

Harry's eyes narrowed in puzzlement. "I wear glasses."

"You've got good Quidditch eyes," Kingsley clarified. "One of the reasons you were sent. That, and you're a good flier, which you also demonstrated.

"However, when you found him, the thing to do wasn't to point the light at him. You should have slowly approached him, tried to get under him without getting too close, and shot lights at your colleagues when he wasn't looking. He still might have seen it, but he might not have. By pointing it at him, you let him know you'd seen him, and allowed him to take counter-measures." Embarrassed, Harry nodded.

Kingsley noticed his expression, and his tone softened. "One thing I want to make very clear, Harry, is that I'm not here to criticize you. Even if you were a regular Auror, this meeting's purpose isn't to criticize, it's to inform. You find out what you did well, what you could have done better, and you learn. You do better next time; you don't linger on your mistakes. And, especially you. You had almost no training, and training is when you learn stuff like this. Okay?"

Harry nodded again, trying to rein in his emotional reactions. Spencer's advice about having a poker face popped into his mind.

"Good. Now, there's one other thing you could have done differently, but I think you worked it out. So, what was it?"

"It didn't occur to me that he'd try to kill himself."

"Correct. Again, not the kind of thing we'd expect you to work out at this point, but trained Aurors know they have to be ready for that in any chase."

"So, he was an enemy, and tried to kill himself so we wouldn't get his information?"

"No, not exactly. He was our informant."

"I don't understand. Why did he...?"

"Informants are often not the bravest people in the world, Harry," said Kingsley wryly. "Sometimes they change their minds about wanting to help you if the consequences get too heavy for them."

"What could be a heavier consequence than dying?"

"Well, that wasn't his preferred plan, of course," clarified Kingsley. "But it's possible to deduce it at this point, though you may not be able to, as you don't have enough general background knowledge.

"First, it's possible that he wanted to skip the country on general principle, feeling that he'd be in danger just by giving us the information. He might be afraid that he would be subject to capture and torture by Dark wizards. If he betrayed them, they might make his death prolonged and horrific, so dying might be better.

"The other possibility that can be deduced is that he heard the information, somehow let us know that he had it, but was then given a Memory Charm. He knows it's extremely important information, but he doesn't remember what it is. Do you know how Memory Charms can be broken?"

Harry remembered Voldemort talking about one way, but he hoped it wasn't what Kingsley would say. "With gentle, patient questioning?"

Kingsley grinned. "Good one. No, I'm afraid it is what you think it is. The Cruciatus Curse, applied in a certain way."

"Yeah, but we wouldn't do that." Kingsley stared at him levelly. "Would we?"

Kingsley took a deep breath. "Of course, we'd prefer not to. But we know how to do it; it's not quite as bad as when Voldemort does it. The person ends up with a neurotic condition which can manifest in any of various ways, or with bad luck, a psychotic condition. But they're basically sane, and can live a life. Aurors have done it, very rarely, and the person to whom it's done is provided with lifetime financial support. Not that that makes it all right, of course. But sometimes, we need to get information that can save many lives. Nobody likes the idea. But sometimes it's necessary."

Harry almost didn't say what came to his mind, but he strongly disliked what Kingsley was saying. "I'm sure there were people, are people, who say that about the dementors guarding Azkaban. That a few criminals slowly going insane was worth the safety it provided all of us. How is this different?"

Kingsley looked at him unhappily. "That's a different situation. I'm not saying you're wrong--"

"The principle is the same."

"I suppose it is," agreed Kingsley reluctantly. "And I suppose you're going to say that if my grandfather had had this done to him and was never the same, I'd be unalterably opposed to it."

"Well, I hadn't gotten that far," admitted Harry. "But... yeah."

"I don't know what to say, Harry. Each situation has to be judged on its own merits. I just don't think we can say that it's something that should never be done under any circumstances. And the worst part is that sometimes when we do it, we don't know if it was really worth it until after it's done."

"And you're doing it right now," said Harry, trying to keep his emotions under wraps.

"Not yet, but as soon as possible. I'm going to tell you the story, as much as we know. This person, the one you caught, was an informant for money. Not a bad guy, but not good either. Think about Mundungus, and you're in the ballpark, ethically speaking. He was performing a service for some of the Death Eaters; he had a way to signal us that he'd found something very important, something to the vague intelligence we had that they were working on a weapon of some sort. He did, but before we could get to him, they put a Memory Charm on him; we imagine that someone said something careless in his presence, then corrected it with a Memory Charm. Realizing he'd been given a Memory Charm, and knowing what we might do--and no doubt thinking it would be done the way Voldemort did it to Bertha Jorkins--he tried to flee the country.

"We probably would have started already, but he was injured in the fall into the Channel; there was a broken leg, a few broken ribs, and other minor injuries. Those have to be dealt with before we can do anything."

"And you're sure that he has information worth permanently damaging someone?"

"His actions speak for themselves, Harry. He obviously thinks so."

"How can he know what information he has?"

"Memory Charms are quirky sometimes. You can remember fragments, or the emotional impact. If I did something that scared the crap out of you, then gave you a Memory Charm, you might remember that you were very scared, just not of what."

Impassive, Harry asked, "Is there anything else you need to tell me?"

Kingsley shook his head. "Just that except for the things I mentioned, you did quite well in the chase. You showed good tactical instincts. Once you get the training all Aurors get before they become full-fledged Aurors, you'll be pretty damn good. Apart from that... no, no particular assignment. I don't know how long it'll take to get the information; just keep in mind that if the information we get is urgent, there could be a sudden operation. So, as always, you could be called on at a moment's notice."

Harry was surprised. "You really might put me into an operation? Even though my training is, you know, almost nothing?"

"It depends on what the operation entails, what is being asked of the Aurors who are called on," said Kingsley. "Your only disadvantage is your lack of training and experience. Your advantages are your flying ability, your uncommon bravery, and that you're utterly trustworthy. Of course, when we choose whom to send on a mission, all such things are weighed."

Makes sense, Harry thought. He was just about to leave when he remembered something he'd wanted to ask about. "Oh, yeah, I wanted to ask about Ron. I--"

"I knew you'd be asking that sooner or later," Kingsley interrupted him. "He wants to be an Auror?"

Harry nodded. "I know he doesn't have the N.E.W.T.s, but I thought, considering the reason for that--"

"Yeah, I know. What I'll tell you is this: we're going to be recruiting fairly soon; we want to beef up our numbers, given what we lost in the Voldemort time. We may be revoking, at least temporarily, some of the requirements. So, he can be considered in the same way that anyone else would be. Of course, what he did in the past year with you helps his case. But the fact that he's your personal friend isn't going to tip the scales."

Harry supposed he couldn't ask for too much more. "Okay, well... I guess I'll be going, then."

Kingsley nodded. "Thank you, Harry. Good job today."

Harry Disapparated to the Park; he found himself outside, with no other Aurors in sight. That suited Harry, as he didn't feel up for much conversation right then, or more advice from older Aurors. He already had more than enough to think about.

* * * * *

Having just said goodnight to Cho, Harry Apparated into the living room of his home at a quarter after ten. His parents were on the sofa, obviously in the middle of a conversation. "Well," said James. "How was the date?"

Harry paused slightly. "Pretty good."

His father picked up on the pause. "But not as good as it could have been?"

Not sure what to say for a moment, Harry shrugged. "It just seemed like... the conversation during dinner, and before... and after... I don't know, it was like we couldn't connect, or something. The stuff she wanted to talk about was stuff with her friends that seemed silly to me. I didn't say that, of course, but I felt like it was just trivial stuff, nonsense. Who got mad at who, and why, and how it affected everyone she knows. And there was stuff about entertainers, and hairstyles... she had a new hairstyle, and I didn't notice, and she wasn't happy about that."

"Ah, this brings back memories," said James wryly, earning him a sour look from Lily. "Did you blame it on your memory?"

"Yes--"

"Good man."

"--and I told her she looked good no matter what her hairstyle was--"

"Good try, but I bet that didn't do it."

Harry couldn't help but smile at his father's teasing tone. "No, it didn't, but it helped a little. She said it's not a matter of whether I prefer one over the other, but that she worked hard on it, and wanted it to be recognized." He rolled his eyes.

"Well, honey, it's understandable," put in his mother. "Girls, especially at that age, care a lot about that kind of thing. They know boys don't care, but part of a relationship is recognizing what's important to the other person, and taking it seriously even if it's not something that's important to you."

"But, Mum, they're--" Harry cut himself off as he realized he had to be careful what he said. He held a hand up to indicate that he was thinking. "Something that could be pretty important happened today at work, and it was one of those things that makes you have to think about what's right and wrong, that kind of thing. A little bit like whether it's okay for the dementors to stay in Azkaban even though they hurt people. I was thinking about it for a few hours, and it's the kind of thing I really wish I could talk about with you. But my day was like that, all this heavy stuff is on my mind, and all she wants to talk about is hairstyles, and who likes what?"

His parents exchanged a more serious look at their son's distress. "I'm sorry, Harry," said Lily. "I can understand how that must have felt. It can really be a challenge for couples to deal with this kind of situation. And it doesn't help that because you're an Auror, you can't really talk about a lot of what you do."

"Did you tell her how you felt?" asked James.

"A little... but maybe not as much as I should have," admitted Harry. "I just didn't want to get into the whole thing, make a big deal of it."

James gave his son a serious look. "Some things, Harry, are big deals. They need to be dealt with. Not that you had to do it this evening, especially with how you felt. But at some point, it may be a good idea to talk about this."

"Did things end okay?" asked Lily.

"Well, after we ate, we Apparated off to someplace private," admitted Harry, trying not to appear embarrassed.

"Ah," said James, with a small grin. "So, things got a bit better."

"You could say that," agreed Harry.

"Well, that always helps. Doesn't it, dear."

"I have no idea what you are talking about, James Potter."

Harry grinned. "Thanks, you guys. I feel a little better."

He started to head upstairs, but his father spoke. "Harry, I just thought you should know... your mother and I have been talking about Snape."

Very pleased, Harry nodded. "I understand." He continued upstairs to get ready for bed.

* * * * *

As he ate breakfast the next morning, Harry read with annoyance the last of Skeeter's three-part series about his abduction. "Oh, come on," he said aloud, speaking to no one in particular. "Listen to this: 'Harry Potter has shown once again what true heroism is. Even in the darkest captivity, with all hope seemingly lost, he never lost his faith; he fought until the end for what he believed, for all of us. We are truly gifted to have one such as him in our midst.'" He put down the paper and looked at his parents expectantly.

They exchanged a look, and his father answered. "And what exactly is your problem with what she wrote?" he asked, deadpan.

Harry sighed. "Very funny. 'What he believed? Faith?' I'm just stubborn! I don't know what I believe, or what I have faith in! Where does she get this?"

"She pulls it right out of her--"

"James!"

"Imagination, I was going to say," James protested.

"You're not fooling anyone, you know," responded Lily. "I'm sorry, Harry. But this is just what she does. Even if she writes the truth, she embellishes it, like a drama--"

"More like a melodrama," put in James.

"Yes, exactly," agreed Lily. "She just makes up details, to make it a good story, like fiction. She's good at it, which is why she's popular. I think her standard is that she doesn't deliberately write untruths, but if she doesn't know, she says whatever she wants. I once heard her say, 'A good reporter knows how to extrapolate.' I think sometimes she doesn't want to know the whole truth, so she has more freedom to 'extrapolate.'"

Harry rolled his eyes and turned the page of the paper. He caught his father's eye for a second, and he wondered if his father thought Harry was blaming him for the article, as he had encouraged Harry to agree to such articles for the sake of his public image. His inclination was to complain about it a little more, just to get it out of his system, but decided not to for his father's sake. Instead, he turned the page of the paper and saw an article about the Wizarding Unity Department, titled "WUD Growing Pains" with the smaller headline, "Scarce Resources, D/D Attacks, Indifference Hobble Weasley's Efforts." Annoyed at the negative reference to Ron's father in the headline, Harry read the article, to find that Arthur was actually painted in a reasonably positive light as doing the best he could with what he had. The article said that Muggle-borns were still not satisfied with what progress had been made on their behalf, but didn't hold it against Arthur, knowing that he was trying very hard to help them.

After reading a few more articles and talking to his parents, he prepared to leave. "If you can," said James casually, "try not to make any plans for tonight."

"Why not?" asked Harry, surprised.

"Your birthday. Remember?"

It suddenly dawned on Harry; it was a strange thing to forget. "Oh, that's right. You're not planning on a big party, are you?"

As soon as the question was out of his mouth, Harry realized that his father would turn his answer into a joke, and he was right. "No more than a hundred people, I promise," said James solemnly.

Well used to his father's sense of humor, Harry responded in kind. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch that. You said, no more than ten people?"

James smiled. "Yes, that's what I said," he replied, his tone assuring Harry that this answer was the truth.

"Thanks. I appreciate it." Looking forward to a quiet evening later with family and friends, Harry Apparated away.

* * * * *

He spent the morning at the Park, mostly in the library, talking to other Aurors. He'd started by asking another Auror for guidance; they had stayed in the library, other Aurors had come in, and the conversation soon evolved into the sort of debate that Spencer had wanted to avoid the day before.

The topic of the debate was mainly the question of what were the most important things for a new Auror to learn, both magical and non-magical. To Harry's surprise, most Aurors felt that the non-magical was more important than the magical, and most agreed with Spencer that understanding psychology was extremely important. "Don't get me wrong," said one. "The magic is very important, and you'll have to spend long hours studying and practicing it. But you just can't be a very effective Auror if you don't have a good understanding of how people work." A few told stories that illustrated their points.

After lunch, Harry did a Diagon Alley patrol, then visited Hogsmeade, spending a little while at both the Three Broomsticks and the Hog's Head. In the middle of a conversation with Aberforth, he felt the signal of a summons from Auror headquarters. Hastily excusing himself, he Disapparated away.

In the briefing room, Harry again found about ten Aurors present; he wondered if that was all that was needed for the operation, or if there were only ten that could be fully trusted. Again, Spencer was present. Everyone stood, facing Hestia and, to Harry's surprise, Kingsley, who spoke first.

"Okay, first... technically, I'm not supposed to be here, since I'm the Minister. But I'll occasionally take advantage of the fact that I'm the first Minister in a few hundred years who was also an Auror, and this operation is extremely important. We've classified it as Alpha-priority."

Harry hated to display his ignorance, but he couldn't let it go by. He raised his hand. "I'm sorry, Kingsley, but I don't know--"

"It's okay," Kingsley interrupted him. "Alpha-priority means that literally, nothing is more important. You break any law, do any spell, take any morally questionable action, even any morally reprehensible action, to do what needs to be done. Do you understand?"

His eyebrows rising involuntarily, Harry nodded. Kingsley continued. "We were able to break through the Memory Charm, and we don't know every single bit of information about this, but we know enough to do something about it.

"The objective is to deactivate a device, concealed behind heavy fortifications, which some time tonight--we believe it's midnight, but we can't be sure--will go into operation. The device will release into the air a substance which has the property of infecting with a fatal disease only those people who have the gene to do magic. Muggles will be unaffected, but almost all wizards will die. That's why this is an Alpha-priority: this is a direct and serious threat to our society's survival. If the device goes off, that's that."

A female Auror spoke. "I suppose there's no chance of an evacuation."

"No," Kingsley responded. "Too many people, too little time, and given the circumstances, no country would accept that many people--or any people, with any possibility of this being infectious, which we don't know. Not to mention that there would be chaos, panic. You are, of course, to tell no one--not even your families. They share the same risk as everyone else, and the way to save them is to find this and deactivate it." Harry tried to suppress a shudder; he was used to risking himself, but rarely had his family been in any direct danger. He knew he would do whatever it took to protect them.

"I assume," said Spencer, "that this was prepared by Voldemort, and activated by the Death Eaters very recently?"

Kingsley nodded. "Almost certainly. Voldemort apparently spent much of the last year setting it up as his defense against an insurrection. If his government was pushed out of power, or his grip on power was threatened, he would set off the device--which has a one-day delay for this very purpose--and get himself and those loyal to him out of the country, and stay out until the substance was no longer dangerous, maybe a month. He and the others would then come back, set up shop, get to work subjugating Muggles, and so forth.

"Now, as for the defenses you'll be facing, there will be no direct human opposition; all Death Eaters and their allies have fled the country. This has been confirmed by other sources as well. But there are automatic defenses, and very nasty ones. The device itself is deep in the Caves of Eternity." Harry knew from Hogwarts that this was a group of caves, or one very large cave, that was unknown to Muggles because the entrance was disguised by magic. The entrance was on a rocky cliff near the sea.

"For about a mile in all directions from the mouth of the cave, there are an unknown but large number of Shooting Stars stationed in the airspace." Harry wasn't very familiar with them, but knew from things his father had told him that they were balls of magical energy that shot some of their energy at anyone who came within a certain radius. "We need Aurors who are highly maneuverable on brooms. It will be possible, though difficult, to maneuver through the Stars and reach the mouth of the cave safely."

Harry saw some of the Aurors exchange dubious looks; Kingsley clearly did as well. "To say this won't be easy will be putting it mildly. I would be surprised if all of you made it back safely from this mission, and I regret having to ask this of you. With more time, we could do this more safely. But we just don't have that time.

"Once you reach the mouth of the cave, and you're out of range of the Stars, there may be one or two magical defenses near the entrance, and you have to watch out for whatever they might be. We weren't able to get that information, but we can hope that a high-level Reveal Magic spell would do the trick. But, as you know, the further into the cave you get, the more unreliable magic becomes, which is why you can't Apparate in or out. You have to make your way through the cave, a distance of about one and a half miles. There are a few sharp drops of about ten feet, and you can't count on magic to help you through them.

"Once you get to the end, we understand, stopping the release of the material is surprisingly simple. There's a valve you need to switch from the open position to the closed position, and a large canister of the dangerous material. You simply need to close the lid and lock it. Taking care of both the valve and the canister is necessary because after we have more time, we'll send in a proper team to deal with it in a slow and careful manner, including slowly destroying all the Shooting Stars. If you don't both close the lid and turn off the valve, their job will be very difficult and dangerous; some would probably die who otherwise wouldn't."

The female Auror named Mel raised her hand. "This is Muggle machinery?" Kingsley nodded. "Why go to such trouble to set it up there? Surely there must have been any number of ways--"

Kingsley cut her off. "I'd think so too, but we don't have the luxury of wondering about that now. Strange or not, this is the situation. Your supplies are as follows: one One-Way Teleporter each, set to take you to the Park. It should still work from deep inside the cave; after you've done what you need to do, you should use this to return. But always keep in mind, if you're tempted for whatever reason to use it before the mission is accomplished... once you use it, that's it, there no getting back in there. The mission is over, failed." The Aurors' expressions didn't change; clearly nobody contemplated doing such a thing.

"Also, each person will have one of these," he added, holding up a long, thin Muggle flashlight. "More than halfway in, you won't be able to get much, if any, light from your wands. Without this, you won't be able to see your hand in front of your face. It will be absolutely vital equipment once you're in there, since without it, you'd be likely to take a wrong step, fall, and injure yourself.

"All right. Time is a factor, since we don't know exactly how much of it we have. Keeping that in mind, are there any questions?" No one spoke. "All right. You'll get your brooms, come right back here, and we'll take the Portkey to the departure site."

Harry Disapparated to his bedroom. As he grabbed his Firebolt, he repressed an urge to say something to his parents, in case he didn't make it back. He had to know, and so did they, that his not coming back was a possibility every day. Some assignments, like this one, were dangerous, but he had to have faith that he would see them again.

In a second, he was back in the briefing room, the last to return. He grasped a peg on the Portkey, and his world spun. Suddenly, he was on a beach, but the shore could best be described as rocky, as the water that came in hit small rocks rather than sand. The skies were still gray, but at least it wasn't raining. It was windy and cool, cooler than usual for a spring day.

Kingsley spoke again. "You'll be in teams of two, each approaching from a different angle. From the south, Stanton and Lunus. From the southeast, Hedghorn and Fromant. From the east, Potter and Lewis. From the northeast, Yardlington and Spencer. From the north, Harris and Johnson. Double-check your equipment, and take off. Good luck."

Harry double-checked, and found his teleporter and his flashlight secure in the inner pockets of his robes; he knew he might have to perform aerial maneuvers, but he was confident they wouldn't fall out. He exchanged a look with his partner, a thirty-year-old Auror named Daniel Lewis. Without another look at Kingsley or the other Aurors, Harry mounted his broom, kicked off the ground, and headed northeast.

As he flew, he thought about how he would deal with the Shooting Stars, though he knew it depended on what the concentration of the devices was. He thought about the people who loved him, who might never see him again... He swiftly banished the thought from his mind. I have to focus, he thought. I have to think only about getting this done. People are counting on me, even if they don't know it right now. Thousands of lives could depend on what I do in the next few hours. I just have to trust my instincts on a broom. I can't worry about Daniel, and he can't worry about me. I guess they had us go in teams of two so the Stars will have to divide their firepower, but maybe more and we'd bump into each other.

Before he knew it, about five minutes later, he had reached the point from which he and Lewis would approach directly from the east. In the distance, he could barely see the cave, but he knew where it was. He exchanged another look with Lewis, and they headed towards the cave, Harry on the left, Lewis on the right.

After only two minutes of flying, he saw the first of the Shooting Stars, hovering in the air. Okay, he thought, time to concentrate. This is a lot like Quidditch; I just have to be aware of what's going on around me at all times, take looks back occasionally, but not for longer than a half a second, or something'll come at me from the front that I wasn't looking at.

As the approached the nearest one, he slowed down a little; it would be easy to dodge one, and he wanted to see how fast the energy would come at him. It opened fire when he got to within ten meters. He dodged it with little difficulty, but was surprised at its speed. He hovered near it to find out how often it would fire; it fired again two seconds later. Hmmm, not going to be easy, he thought. He could see the second one about twenty meters ahead, so he had to imagine that he would always be in range of at least one, and probably more than one, if they were layered in all three dimensions in the same way, none more than twenty meters from another vertically or horizontally.

That thing fires fast, he thought, so I'd better fly fast, or at least, as fast as I can without running into a shot I didn't see coming. Let's see, same altitude as the cave mouth, eight or nine meters above the ones shooting from below so I don't have to worry about the ones from above... okay, stop thinking so much. You're not going to do this by analyzing every tiny little move. You go in, your instincts will take over, you'll do what's necessary. Like those video games Muggle kids play. Let's go...

He flew in, twisting and dodging everything fired at him. He had passed three when he noticed that they were in a pattern, each the same distance from the others, in vertical and horizontal lines. He realized that it wouldn't be so difficult; he could fly in a particular pattern, and he would be fine once he learned the pattern. Up a foot, then to the side, straight, down, up, repeat. He tried hard not to change his speed, which would change the pattern he had adopted. He focused on repeating the pattern, repeating the pattern...

After about three minutes, something happened that almost caused him to panic: suddenly the Stars were no longer in a neat pattern, but were spread around in a scattershot pattern. No Star was closer than about fifteen meters to another--he recalled hearing that they couldn't be closer to each other than a certain distance--but they were now totally random, and he realized that he had to snap out of his pattern and fly completely by the seat of his pants. He heard a sharp cry of pain, and realized that Lewis had been hit.

It was like flying by intuition; there was simply no time to consciously note and evaluate every Star, every firing pattern. His flying reflexes took over, and he knew his only job was to step aside, to keep his conscious mind out of it. His father had once said that the way to lose in Quidditch was by thinking too much. He didn't think; he just flew.

The mouth of the cave was getting closer, but he couldn't think about that either. He dodged and weaved, dodged and weaved... past this one, past that one... one Star at a time... a bolt of energy flew by his head, missing by inches, had to be some luck to this... almost there, keep focusing... two more, don't slow down... there's Robert standing at the mouth of the cave, on the cliff, wow, that was fast... don't slow down, one more... past the final one... Yes! Did it. He pumped his fist as he flew over to where Spencer was standing, and dismounted the Firebolt. He felt like grinning, but didn't; there was still hard work to do; still, he felt that he'd gotten through the worst of it.

Spencer reached out to shake Harry's hand. "Should've known you'd get through it, I've heard about your flying skill. I guess Lewis didn't make it." Harry solemnly shook his head. "No, neither did Yardlington. That was nasty, when they suddenly changed. That's when you have to be both good and lucky." They stood silently and waited for others to join them, looking out into the field of Shooting Stars, Harry wondering how the Death Eaters got a hold of so many. Thank goodness we've got the teleport devices to get back, he thought; I wouldn't want to try to fly through that again. Two Aurors dead already...

After two minutes, one intact team of two made it through: Paul Hedghorn and Melanie Fromant. They landed near the edge of the cliff and dismounted, exchanging looks of greeting with Harry and Spencer. For three minutes they waited, silent. Finally, Hedghorn said, "Looks like we're going to be the only ones."

"Looks that way," agreed Spencer. "Fortunately, we should be more than enough to do the job."

Hedghorn glanced around warily as he and Fromant moved toward Harry and Spencer; Harry wondered what Hedghorn expected to see.

Hedghorn suddenly stopped and pointed his wand over Fromant's shoulder, in the direction of the Shooting Stars. "Look out!" he exclaimed.

Harry and Spencer quickly pointed their wands off to their left, where Hedghorn had pointed his; as they did so, Hedghorn quickly pointed his wand at Spencer and fired silently; Spencer went down in a heap. Shocked, Harry pointed his wand at Hedghorn, but he had already shoved Fromant in front of him, his wand shoved roughly at her face, the tip under her chin.

Damn it, thought Harry, suddenly feeling the huge weight of the mission on his shoulders. If Hedghorn stopped Harry, tens of thousands of wizards would die... Alpha Priority... He liked Mel, but instantly understood that he had to do whatever it took for the mission to succeed, painful as it might be.

"Put your wand down, Potter," said Hedghorn calmly. "The wand, and your flashlight."

Harry knew he could do neither. He took a few steps closer to Hedghorn, who reacted by pushing the wand harder under Fromant's chin; she grunted from the pain. "Don't do it--" She continued speaking, but had clearly been Silenced. Hedghorn reached into her robes, found her flashlight, and tossed it off the cliff, which was five meters behind him. Fromant had stopped trying to speak, but her expression told Harry the same thing her words had.

"You know I can't do that," said Harry.

"You'll watch her die?" retorted Hedghorn.

"If we don't get to that thing, we're all dead," responded Harry.

Hedghorn shook his head. "We have these convenient teleporters," he pointed out. "Here's the only way you're going to live, Harry. I'll allow you to teleport away, right now. You'll have time to get your family, any friends you want, out of the country. I'll send back Robert, and Mel here, after knocking her unconscious, to give myself time to get away. That's the deal, and it's the only one you've got."

"And I should take the word of someone who'll be responsible for the deaths of tens of thousands of people."

Hedghorn shrugged. "I have no reason to lie. All I care about is that the thing goes off, for which I'm being very well paid. I don't care if anyone or no one dies, so long as I've done my job."

"And you don't care if every wizard in England is killed?"

It chilled Harry to look into Hedghorn's eyes and realize that he already knew the answer to the question. "One thing I learned in the past year is that we're all going to die, it's just a question of when. Everyone looks out for himself; that's the way humans are, and have always been. Once you have blood on your hands, it doesn't matter much whether it's the blood of one, or a hundred thousand."

Great, thought Harry. They corrupted him, and good. He wanted to try to talk Hedghorn out of it, but realized he probably couldn't. He adjusted the direction of his wand slightly; Hedghorn moved the wand to point it directly into Fromant's back, and stood behind her so that any kind of shot was impossible.

Fromant immediately gave Harry a significant look, and started mouthing words slowly and deliberately, with exaggerated mouth movements. Harry felt he should be able to decipher her meaning, but couldn't. He continued watching her lips and mouth as Hedghorn spoke again.

"C'mon, Potter," said Hedghorn impatiently. "You don't even have to throw down your wand. Just teleport away. If you don't do it very soon, I'll start firing on you, and you won't be able to do much to me, as I have a shield."

Two similar mouth movements from Fromant came in a row, and Harry suddenly realized she had mouthed 'five' and 'four'; she was counting down from ten. Meeting Fromant's eyes, he said, "I understand," intending for it to be misunderstood by Hedghorn as agreement to his demands.

Three... two... mouthed Fromant as Harry, trying to appear casual and defeated, lowered his wand and reached into his robes for his teleporter. He took it out... she mouthed the word 'one'...

She whirled into action, spinning away from Hedghorn as Harry quickly raised his wand and fired at where an instant ago her body had been blocking his shot at Hedghorn. Harry's Stunner hit Hedghorn in the shoulder; he went down, but so did Fromant, who apparently hadn't been able to get out of the way quite fast enough. She fell on her face; Harry ran over, only to turn away quickly when he saw the terrible damage that Hedghorn had done to her back, no doubt with a Reductor Curse. Harry was sure she was dead. Reflexively, he put the unconscious Hedghorn in a Full-Body Bind. He went over to Spencer to try to revive him, but was unsuccessful.

He sat on a small boulder at the cave entrance to consider what to do next. Should he wait until Spencer could be revived, or go into the cave without him? And what about Hedghorn? As to his disposition, Harry found that he was reaching a very unsavory conclusion. Hedghorn simply could not be left where he was, no matter how well wrapped, cursed, or whatever, and he couldn't be taken along, only partly because magic would become undependable at some point. If there was even the tiniest chance that he could free himself, or somehow be freed--or maybe another Auror would make it through the Stars after having been delayed, find Hedghorn, and be lied to regarding what had happened and free him--given the stakes of the situation, it simply couldn't be risked. Harry felt a sinking, awful feeling in his stomach as he realized what needed to be done.

He spent a few more minutes considering the situation. Was there no other way? He looked at it from all angles he could think of, and it kept coming back to the notion that, however humanitarian, nothing could be done that increased by even a tiny amount the chance that the mission would fail. Alpha Priority: nothing is more important than the success of the mission.

His heart heavy, Harry stood and slowly walked over to where Hedghorn lay. He paused, thinking, then had the thought: just do it, it isn't going to get any easier standing here thinking about it. He was a few meters away from Hedghorn, and couldn't see the other man's eyes, whether he was now conscious in the Full-Body Bind. He decided not to look; maybe it was better not to know. Just do what needs to be done, he thought. His stomach giving a lurch, he caused Hedghorn's body to levitate, move a few meters back and to the right... and after another, agonizing pause, he released his spell, and Hedghorn, still frozen in place by the Bind, plunged over the edge of the cliff. Harry saw the light from one or more of the Shooting Stars firing at the falling figure.

Feeling as though he would be sick, he staggered back to the boulder on which he'd sat, and put his head in his hands after taking off his glasses. Focus, he thought, you've got to focus. You can mourn all you want later on, but right now, you have a job to do, which is why you had to do that.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Spencer start to stir. Harry quickly stood and walked over to the older man, bending over him. "Are you all right?"

Spencer nodded. "Never saw that one coming, must be getting too damn old. Where is he?" Harry saw the sadness on the man's face as he looked over at the edge and saw Fromant's body.

"He grabbed her, she tried to get away, I was able to Stun him. But then, I had to..." He trailed off, unable to say it.

No doubt Spencer saw the pain on Harry's face. As he got up, he gave Harry's shoulder a firm squeeze. "I get it. Listen, Harry, you had to do it. He couldn't be left behind. Right now, any risk is too big a risk."

Harry nodded, but couldn't feel better about it. Seeing this as well, Spencer added, "I know it doesn't help, but it'll get better with time. You did it for the right reason, remember that. And I know that it doesn't matter that he deserved it, but he did. C'mon, let's get moving. We're still fighting the clock."

Harry nodded numbly and followed Spencer into the cave. After about ten meters it was dark enough that Spencer said "Lumos," and the end of his wand lit up, as did Harry's a second later. The ground under their feet was rocky and often uneven; Harry was careful to watch where he stepped.

Suddenly the light from the wands revealed a vertical translucent field that seemed to ripple. Harry had no idea what it was, but it seemed obvious that walking through it would have some effect, and that the effect wouldn't really be a good one.

He was going to ask Spencer what he thought it was when a snake slithered by. It was a few meters long; Harry didn't know what species it was. I should study snakes, he thought, since I'm a Parseltongue. Wait, am I? Did I only have that ability because Voldemort's Horcrux was in me, and now it's gone? Well, one way to find out. "Greetings," he said to the snake.

The snake turned its head and looked at Harry... suspiciously, Harry thought, but he couldn't be sure. The snake hissed. "Greetings, snake language speaker. Why do you encroach on our cave?"

At least I can still do it, Harry thought. "My friend and I have an important mission. We don't wish to disturb you and your friends. Do you know anything about this magical field?"

"Men were here, speaking of it. Said that for one to pass, one must die."

Harry had a sudden recollection of hearing of such a magical field before, but he wasn't sure where. The first person to touch the field would die, which would deactivate the field--Harry wasn't sure for how long--and allow the second person through.

A chill passed through him, as he realized that he would be the one to walk through. He knew that if he told Spencer what the field was, Spencer would likely insist on being the one to go. So, asking Spencer what he thought they should do was tantamount to asking him to go. He knew there was the argument that Spencer was much older, but he felt that shouldn't decide it. He didn't want to die, and was deeply saddened to have to leave his parents, but he knew that this was the right thing to do. He spoke again to the snake. "Thanks. We won't disturb you."

The snake didn't respond further, and went on its way. Harry made his right hand into a fist, activating the ring on his right ring finger so he could look for one last time at his family's home. He saw that Sirius, Ron, and Hermione were in the living room in addition to his parents; he realized that it had to be a get-together for his birthday. He was saddened that it would be turned into a tragedy for them.

Saying a silent goodbye--he had done it once before, just a month or so ago, but it didn't seem any easier now--he made a fist again to shut off the ring's functionality, so the image would no longer appear. But for some reason, it didn't work as it always had before. Was it something to do with the cave and how it affected magic, or the field in front of them? Or was fate just taunting him by insisting that he look at what he would be walking away from? He steeled himself; it had to be done. Doing anything else was cowardice.

"Well?"

"Hmmm?" Harry asked, startled out of his train of thought.

"What did it say?"

"Oh, the snake." Unsure of what to say, Harry improvised a lie. "He said it's no problem, that someone who speaks Parseltongue has to go through first. So, I'll just go ahead."

Spencer shrugged lightly and gestured for Harry to go ahead. Harry hesitated, then realized that long hesitation would cause Spencer to suspect he was lying. Well, this is it, he thought. He nodded to Spencer, and walked toward the field. When he was two meters away, Spencer suddenly spoke from behind him.

"Harry."

Harry turned his head. "Yes?"

A sad smile had come to Spencer's face. "You're a good man." Harry saw the Stunner come at him, but too late to do anything about it.

* * * * *

Lying on his back, Harry came to in time to see Spencer walking, only a step away from the field. He bolted upright. "Robert! No!"

He scrambled to his feet as Spencer stepped into the field. He saw Spencer's body stiffen, then fall forward, face first. He ran forward as the field disappeared; it was now clearly safe to go through. Harry fought back tears as he bent over Spencer's body, knowing it was useless, but needing to check just the same. He felt for a pulse; nothing.

He sat on the ground, his heart so heavy that it didn't occur to him to be relieved that he was still alive. As he leaned over forward, he heard a crinkling sound come from his chest. A piece of paper, folded in two, had been stuffed into his robes. He took it out, opened it, and read.

Sorry, Harry, but you're not a good liar. I suspected what the field was, and your reactions confirmed it. I don't want to die any more than you do, but we both know it makes more sense for me to go. Not only because you're young and I'm old, but also because I need to prove to myself that I can do the noble thing.

I know you'll do well, because you know how to do the right thing. I hope you'll remember me with compassion. You'll find the thing, and succeed. Good luck.

Starting to sob, Harry stopped himself, the last sentence reminding him that despite witnessing three deaths in the past few minutes, he still had a job to do. It only now occurred to him that his ring was still active, and the living room of Potter's Hollow was still visible to him; Sirius was talking to Ron and Hermione as James left the room. Again he tried to shut the ring off, and again he failed. He got up, and looked back at Spencer's body. "Goodbye, Robert," he said quietly. He said "Lumos," walked forward, and didn't look back.

The next ten minutes passed quickly as many thoughts went through Harry's head, most of them negative. Ten people went out on this mission, and now nine of them are dead. I have to succeed; if I don't, then they died for nothing. Leave it to Death Eaters to put up a trap that requires a human sacrifice to get past. Now it seems like it was a waste to send Hedghorn over that cliff; we could have used him for this, and Spencer would still be alive. But what were we going to do, bring him along in case we needed a human sacrifice? It's not the kind of thing you can know, and bringing him would have been a huge risk.

He came upon the first ten-foot drop; fortunately it was not a sheer drop, but just a very steep slope downward. He sat with his legs forward, slid down, and did a weak Hover Charm to soften his landing. Straightening up, he continued walking.

After five more minutes, the Lumos charm started to get weaker; the light flickered, and started to go out for short periods of time. Deciding it was too dangerous to walk for long with no light, Harry put away his wand and got out the flashlight. He turned it on and continued walking. To his surprise, the image of the Potter's Hollow living room remained strong in his mind. He wondered if there would be more magical traps, but he remembered that since magic was undependable this far into the cave, it was highly unlikely. He continued on, determined to reach his goal.

Lost in thought, he almost didn't notice the scene change in his family's home: Ron, Hermione, and Sirius were slack in their chairs, appearing to be unconscious. Harry tried to look more closely at the image; what had happened?

Horror filled him as he now saw two hooded figures, unmistakably Death Eaters, drag his parents into the living room from the kitchen. He watched as his friends and family were disarmed, tied up, and Enervated. Their faces showed their shock at the sudden turn of events. How in the world did they get in, Harry wondered. What do they want?

The question was soon answered as one of the Death Eaters waved his wand, and large block letters appeared in the air: POTTER TELEPORT OUT NOW.

Harry gasped; how did they know he had a ring that allowed him to see the living room? How did they know that he, out of all of the Aurors, had made it into the cave? He saw his parents exchange surprised looks; of course, he thought, they couldn't know what was going on. People were talking, but he could only get images, not audio.

He took a deep breath, and started to run as fast as he thought he could get away with in the uncertain terrain. He tried to keep the crushing despair away by concentrating on running. He knew what they wanted, and he knew what the threat was. As if to confirm his thought, a new message appeared in the air in the living room of Potter's Hollow: BLACK DIES IN 60 SECONDS COME OUT NOW WE WILL KNOW.

Harry continued running. He knew he was much too far away for it to do any good, but he had to do something. As he ran, he contemplated agreeing to their demands. But what good would it do? Even if he Apparated into the living room, he might not be able to take care of both of them. He could get the Aurors to mount a fast rescue mission. How? By explaining that he had abandoned his mission?

WE WILL DROP OUR WANDS IF YOU COME YOU CAN STOP US.

He saw both Death Eaters drop their wands onto the floor; one looked at his watch. Again, it was as if they'd read his mind.

He felt unbearable emotional pressure as he ran forward, looking at the ground to check the terrain. Was it possible that the Aurors' information about what was at the end of the cave was wrong, that all those people would not really die? Could he teleport away without truly endangering a hundred thousand wizards? No, his mind told him. It's so important that the Aurors sent ten people on what was nearly a suicide mission, which they wouldn't do if they weren't sure. There's no coming back here, that device could go off at any time...

Harry let out an anguished "NO!" as he saw a Death Eater pick up a wand, send a green bolt into Sirius's chest, and wave it at the air for a new message: WEASLEY AND GRANGER WILL DIE IN 60 SECONDS.

Harry didn't stop running; it was as if running could allow him to escape what was happening, even though he knew it couldn't. Memories of Sirius flashed through his mind, adding to the already excruciating pain pressing on his feelings. Ron and Hermione next, less than a minute away. And then...

A part of him, the rational part, knew the situation perfectly well. The thing to do was not to go back. None of them would want their lives to be bought with the lives of all of wizarding England, and all had at some point risked their lives for what they knew was right. But the knowledge did Harry no good. Watching them die while he did what he knew was right--

This thought was cut off as the two Death Eaters picked up their wands from the floor, and fired bolts into Hermione and Ron, who slumped over dead. POTTERS WILL DIE IN 60 SECONDS.

It was torture; he would have much preferred the Cruciatus Curse. He desperately thought of a way to do something without leaving the cave, but there was nothing, and he knew it. His parents, who had always been there to support him, cared for him, were proud of him, loved him... he felt his hand reach for the teleporter, almost involuntarily. Painfully, he forced his hand away from it, for he knew that if he held it in his hand, he would use it. He ran forward, hoping against hope that somehow the device would appear right in front of him, he could deactivate it and teleport away, just in time... keep going... a part of him knew the chance was almost zero, but he had to keep going...

Suddenly seeing another 10-foot drop, he was running too fast to stop; he toppled over the side, falling five feet before hitting the top of a steep slope, from which he tumbled down to the rocky ground. Fueled by desperation, he struggled to his feet, ignoring whatever injuries he had sustained, limping forward, pointing the flashlight into the distance, hoping to see--

In the picture of his living room, the five Death Eaters picked up their wands, and two pointed them at his parents. The picture didn't--thankfully--allow Harry a close view of their faces, but they seemed calm, defiant. Starting to sob, he pushed away a last impulse to reach for the teleporter. A hundred thousand people, a hundred thousand people...

Green bolts flew. His parents were dead.

He felt numb, as though a part of him had died. A darkness descended over him, one he was sure would never lift. He stopped running and walked more normally, favoring the left leg, which had been injured when he fell. He also thought he had a sprained left ankle, but he didn't care, as long as he could still move. The grief numbed his pain. He went on, zombielike, to fulfill a mission that he no longer cared about.

Suddenly, it was almost right in front of him. A huge vat, about six feet deep and five feet in diameter, filled with a bubbling white liquid, steps leading to the top, from where one could close the giant lid. He could see a small tunnel, a foot wide, leading to another part of the cave, inaccessible to humans. Does it go somewhere that it can be spread wide, like a volcano? How did it work? He didn't care. If he could just have reached it minutes sooner, his family and friends might still be alive. He cursed himself for not having run right after Spencer had died, even though he could have no way of knowing what would happen. It shouldn't have happened, his home had been safe... It didn't matter now. Nothing mattered.

He climbed the steps, released the lid, and pushed it down. He saw a few levers that would lock the lid in place; he moved over to lock the lid down in three different places. Mechanically, he climbed down the ladder, walked over to the valve, and leaning against the wall of the cave, switched it to the 'off' position. He slid to the ground, and the tears started. He started to slowly lose consciousness; he had just enough time to wonder if he was dying due to exposure to the white liquid, and decided he didn't care. He didn't fight as the darkness took him.

* * * * *

Harry slowly regained consciousness, experiencing disorientation similar to what he'd experienced after he'd been rescued from the goblins. It seemed a struggle to awaken, and he would slip into dreams that made even less sense than dreams usually made. Finally, he was able to open his eyes.

He was in what appeared to be a circular room, sparsely furnished, with no windows or artwork on the walls. On the other side of the room, directly opposite him, he saw a doorway shrouded in soft white light. Glancing to his right, he saw a raised, flat surface--it looked like a bed, but it wasn't soft, and there were no blankets--with a very peculiar-looking energy field surrounding it. It was a swirling mass of white, blue, and what looked like translucent energy, spinning at the rate of one revolution per second. Its brightest point was at the center; it reminded Harry of pictures he'd seen in the Muggle world of galaxies. Suddenly, he heard a voice on his other side. "Hello, Harry."

"Kingsley? What are you..." Despair hit Harry as he remembered what had happened... but had it really happened? He remembered what he had just done, but he also remembered other things... growing up at the Dursleys', never having met his parents, even though he had spent his life with them... it felt to Harry as though two sets of memories were in his mind; it was very disorienting. "I did it, but..." He closed his eyes as he pain washed over him again.

"Harry, this is very important," said Kingsley gravely. "What just happened felt real, but it wasn't. You were inside that field. It's a magical field that creates a scenario, like an alternate life. What happened in there... didn't really happen. You were kidnapped by goblins, but anything you remember after that didn't happen. I think your memories may be out of whack right now, but they should get better. You need to focus on the life you had before that. You live at Grimmauld Place, alone. You just found out Dudley is a wizard. You were made a member of the Wizengamot. What's the shape of the Portkey that you have to my office?"

"Professor Dumbledore," he answered without thinking. "Yes, I can remember some of that. It feels very strange, though. Like I have to think hard about which memory is the real one and which isn't. You're saying... I never met my parents?"

Kingsley shook his head. "I'm sorry, but, no."

Harry exhaled; the pain seemed no less real. At least now he knew who to blame for it. "Those goblin bastards," he muttered angrily. "They knew just how to screw me, how to hurt me the worst. I thought it couldn't get any worse than not letting me sleep, but I was wrong." Emotion came back to him; he closed his eyes and took another deep breath to fight off potential tears.

"Uh, yes," said Kingsley uncomfortably. "Harry, there are a few things I need to explain."

Harry slowly sat up on the bed he was in, and swung his feet over the edge. He tested his left ankle; it felt fine. He looked at Kingsley expectantly.

"First of all, that device is very old, and very powerful. We don't know where it came from, or who made it. It seems to have the ability to tap into... the sum of all human knowledge, including people's memories. The interactions you had with people in there... they might have told you something, something that only the true person knows, and it would almost certainly be correct, in the real world. Same thing with personalities. If you met someone in there who you'd never met in real life, like your parents... their personalities, even their memories, would be accurately reflected. If they told you something that happened before they died, it was probably true. If they told you something that happened after they died, it was probably a very reasonable trajectory, an excellent guess of how their life would have gone. Again, it's not known how the device does it."

Kingsley looked like he was going to continue, but Harry cut in with a question. "Is there an Auror named Robert Spencer?"

Kingsley's eyebrows went up. "Yes."

"Is he alive?" A nod. "One of the ones who stayed behind?"

Again, Kingsley nodded. "I guess you talked to him."

"Yes. I... just saw him die."

"Well, he's actually alive. Harry... there's a position that you may never have heard of, called Auror Leader. There hasn't been one in several generations now--"

"You mean, Head of the Auror Office?"

"No, this is different. The title is 'Auror Leader.' It's very powerful, an extremely important position. The Head of the Auror Office supervises the Aurors, but within the law, and within certain parameters. The Auror Leader has absolute, unchallenged control over the Aurors and all matters related to security, and very substantial influence in society overall. He answers to no one, including the Ministry, or even the Minister. He can make rules for the Aurors, hire and fire at will. He is utterly respected, because people know that he will always do what is best for society."

Harry was surprised; he hadn't known about this. "And I met the Auror Leader when I was in that thing?"

Kingsley shook his head; he had never looked more solemn. "No, Harry. You are, now, Auror Leader."

Harry did a double-take. "I'm what?"

"I took the test for Auror Leader, about ten years ago. I failed; most people do. It takes a very special person to be Auror Leader, to be given that much trust by society. It has to be someone who will do anything necessary to save our society, if it comes to that. To pass the test, you need to be able to do four things, any one of which if you fail, you fail the test. You need to demonstrate great Auror-related skill in an area which is your strong point. You need to summon the will to end a life, if necessary, even though you would rather do anything but that. You have to be willing to give your own life rather than ask another to do it. And..." Kingsley's expression was even more solemn. "Because he's entrusted with so much power, the Auror Leader must be someone who... would even give up his family, his loved ones, to save our society."

Shock came over Harry; his mouth opened involuntarily. "You??" he gasped. "You did that to me?"

Kingsley nodded as Harry felt fury rising up inside him. "I gave you the test, yes. I'm sorry, Harry, but it was necessary--"

"NO, IT WASN'T!" Harry screamed. "You don't get to make that decision for me! I'll decide what goddamn tests I'll take and won't take! How could you..." Breathing heavily, he stopped talking, as the emotion from his parents' deaths still help powerful sway over him. It hadn't happened, but in a very important way, it had. He had met his parents, talked to them, loved them. And now they were gone, taken from him again... by design... Harry felt a cold fury toward Kingsley. "I'm not going to be the Auror Leader. You can go fuck yourself."

Kingsley didn't flinch at Harry's uncharacteristic language. "You are Auror Leader, whether you like it or not. It's done."

"Well, I'm not going to lead the Aurors, so it doesn't do a fuck of a lot of good, does it?" spat Harry.

"Harry, we need you. I didn't do this lightly. We have Aurors we can't trust, that only an Auror Leader can fire. I know you've already done far more than your share. But you wouldn't have passed the test if--"

Harry had heard enough; he was so angry at Kingsley that he was sorely tempted to beat him up physically, as a Muggle would. Not that he could--Kingsley was taller and heavier--but he wanted to. He had no curiosity about the doorway on the other side of the room; he just wanted to get out. He walked toward the door, then realized he could just Disapparate. He patted his robes to find his wand.

"We weren't able to recover your wand. I need to tell you that the test puts a Forgetfulness Spell on you, makes it so you can't tell anyone who doesn't already know about this device and what it does."

Without a word, Harry walked through the door, closing it hard behind him. He walked down a hall, saw a room on his left with a fireplace, and a box of Floo Powder on a shelf above the fireplace. He threw in a handful, said, "Twelve Grimmauld Place," and walked through.

* * * * *

Next: Chapter 13, Anywhere But Home: Grief-stricken and furious at Kingsley's betrayal, Harry decides he needs to get as far away from England as possible. Putting his destination in the hands of fate, he finds himself in a country whose customs he finds strange and unfathomable... and before long, he finds himself in custody.

From Chapter 13: "Just tell me one thing," Ron interrupted heatedly. "Tell me that it was really the goblins who kidnapped him, that it wasn't you, doing it so you could put him through this test, and blaming it on the goblins."

There was silence; Kingsley's eyes narrowed, as if Ron was reaching the limit of what Kingsley would tolerate.