I Saw My Lady Weep

Chapter Six: It's Just The Way That You Would Tied In...

Ginny could feel the solemnity of the entire situation crowding too far into what was supposed to be a pleasant conversation. "Professor... when you finally do retire, who will you nominate to succeed you as Headmaster? Headmistress... Oh, you know what I mean."

"That is an excellent question, Miss Weasley and I have given it some thought. I was originally thinking Professor Slughorn would perform admirably in that capacity, but he's already informed me of his intention to return to retirement. I dare say he's earned it. Imagine him, dueling You-Know-Who at his age." She caught herself, suddenly. "Now that was ridiculous... The man's dead as Banquo. Why should I be afraid of saying his name now?"

"You're hardly alone... I've heard lots of people say 'You-Know-Who", and then suddenly change their mind. It's a hard habit to break." Ginny was trying to be understanding. McGonagall just smiled in response.

"So since Professor Slughorn is leaving, who else would be a good choice, Professor?" Harry asked.

"Well, barring Professor Slughorn, the obvious choices are Professor Sprout and Professor Flitwick. I'll ask both of them, of course, but I do think that Professor Sprout is too in love with her greenhouses to move full time into the Headmaster's office." She appeared thoughtful for a moment. "I expect it will be Professor Flitwick."

"I think that would be excellent," Harry said. "He's certainly one of the best teachers at Hogwarts, and I think his becoming headmaster would be brilliant."

"Well, thank you for that assessment, Mister Potter. I will be sure to pass it on to him," McGonagall replied. "With your recommendation, he's sure to get the post."

Harry looked at Ginny, and they both looked at the absolutely deadpan Minerva McGonagall. Then all three burst out laughing.

An officious-looking wizard strode toward them from behind Ginny. It was clear to Harry that he was nervous about interrupting their conversation. "Excuse me, Mister Potter... Sorry to interrupt."

Harry thought the man didn't look sorry at all. "Yes, what can I do for you?"

"My name is Abelard Price, Mister Potter. I believe you were informed that I needed to speak to you?" Price nodded to Ginny and McGonagall, and then returned his attention to Harry. "In private, please. It's an important Ministry matter. Would you come with me please? It will only take a moment."

"Er... Fine... Certainly, I suppose." Harry gave Ginny's hand one last squeeze and stood. "Excuse me, Ginny, Professor... I'll be right back."

Harry followed Price out of the Great Hall. He never saw the look that passed between Professor McGonagall and Ginny Weasley. Ginny caught her brother Ron's attention quickly and motioned in the direction of Harry. Ron looked over, nodded, and then whispered in Hermione's ear.

Harry's friends nodded to Ginny, and then stood to follow Harry.

XxxxxxX

Price led Harry to an empty classroom. "Please, Mister Potter... Have a seat. We just have a couple of questions for you." He gestured to the narrow table that had been set up in the center of the room. Two other people were sitting on the far side, with a chair between them that Harry assumed was Price's.

His assumption proved correct as Price came around the table and sat. "Please, Mister Potter... Sit. No one's here to hurt you."

Harry sat, still not sure what was going on. Before he could ask again, Mister Price began speaking.

"Now, as I said, my name's Abelard Price, and I'm with the Criminal Confiscation Department. This is Basil Rajapaksa, with the Department of Mysteries." Price indicated the man to his left. Rajapaksa was short, and bald, and from his skin tone and manner of dress, Harry guessed he was originally from India or perhaps from Pakistan. He wore a pair of very dark glasses that prevented Harry from seeing the man's eyes.

Price gestured to his left, where a woman who looked about as old as Horace Slughorn sat. She was in dark grey robes, and peered at Harry through very thick glasses. "And this is Marjorie Glide with the Ancient Artifacts Recovery Department."

Harry grew very still, and the air in the classroom seemed to get very cold. It suddenly occurred to him precisely why these three wanted to talk to him.

"Now, Mister Potter..." Price began to read something from a stack of parchment as he spoke to Harry. "We wanted to ask you some questions regarding certain statements you made during your final duel with You-Know-Who." He glanced up from his parchment. "Statements that were overheard by over a hundred witnesses."

Harry remembered what he said clearly enough. "Which statements do you mean?"

Marjorie Glide leaned forward. "You made certain statements regarding the legendary Elder Wand, Mister Potter... Statements that made certain persons within the Ministry believe that you were in possession of said Elder Wand."

"Yes, precisely," Mister Price interrupted. "We've also heard tell that you possess an invisibility cloak of remarkable resilience and power, one that, unlike most objects of its kind, has lost no effectiveness in the many years you've possessed it."

"So?" Harry asked.

"So? So?" Glide was outraged. "Don't dilly-dally with us, boy. You know very well what we're asking you about, don't you. You've got two of the three Deathly Hallows. Those are..."

For the first time, Rajapaksa spoke. "No, Madame Glide. He has all three of them. Is this not true, young man?"

Harry looked at the man from the Department of Mysteries. He was probably an Unspeakable, Harry thought. "And what if it is true?"

"I'll tell you what." Glide sneered down her nose at Harry. "The Hallows are important magical artifacts that should be studied... Much too important to be entrusted to the care of a teenage boy! They aren't toys for your amusement. And we demand that you turn them over immediately!"

"No," Harry said. He was acting much calmer than he felt.

"What?" Price looked shocked. "I say, young man, you'll turn them over to us at once!"

"And if I don't? What will you do?" As he spoke, Harry thought he felt a pressure in his head, as if someone was reaching into his skull and touching his brain. It was absolutely nothing compared to what Snape had once done to him, and compared to Voldemort it was child's play. He recognized the Legilimancy for what it was and almost immediately shut it out. Harry turned to Rajapaksa. "Do not do that again." The man didn't even look chagrined.

"Mister Potter, if you do not cooperate, steps will have to be taken." Price puffed himself up. "Give the Hallows up voluntarily, or we will have you placed under arrest. Your home and property will be searched, and we will get the Hallows that way. It's your..."

A loud and angry voice interrupted Price. "Are you lot fucking mental?" Harry spun in his chair, and then grinned. Ron and Hermione had followed him. As always, they had his back when it counted.

"This is Harry Potter! Harry! Potter! Perhaps you've heard of him?" Ron continued. Rage was pouring off the young man in waves that were tangible to everyone. "He survived the Killing Curse three separate times. He personally dueled that bloody sod Voldemort more times than you can count, including, I might add, the last time when he killed that snake-eyed bastard! And do you really think that the DA would let you do anything to Harry? What in bloody Hell makes you think you can threaten him and then walk out of this castle under your own power?"

Hermione waved Ron to silence, then continued for him: "What Ron is saying, gentlemen, ma'am, is that not only is Harry quite capable of standing up to the three of you, there are at least a hundred people in this castle who would make you regret so much as laying a finger on him. That hundred people, I might add, includes the interim Minister of Magic."

Harry turned back to the three, a smug look on his face. "You'll excuse me, Mister Price, if I don't choose to cooperate with you just now, yeah?"

"You are being foolish, young man." Madame Glide glared at Harry. "Very foolish indeed."

"No," Rajapaksa interrupted. "No, he is not being foolish at all. We are. We come here waving the color of authority in everyone's faces, and we threaten and bully someone who in truth has little to fear from us in defiance." The man's face never changed expression. "And lastly, in our zeal to do our duty to the Ministry and our departments, we did not, as Miss Granger has just so ably pointed out, take into account the political ramifications of our demands, or the extent to which we'd pursue them."

The Unspeakable motioned to his colleagues. "On behalf of the Ministry, Mister Potter, I'd like to apologize for our arrogant assumptions. Perhaps we can arrange a bit of a compromise."

Harry was still wary. Ron and Hermione came forward to stand protectively behind him. Ron merely looked grim, on the edge of hexing all three of the government functionaries. As for Hermione, Harry could see that she, too, was angry... But then she'd always been better at reining her anger in than either of her male counterparts.

"What sort of compromise?" It was Hermione who spoke.

"If you have any of the Hallows in your possession at this moment... Could we examine them? Quickly?"

Harry shook his head. "No. No, I don't think so. You see, it's my ambition to make sure they never come together again, for as long as I can manage it. They're too dangerous, you see. Too powerful. And in the end, they can't bring anyone happiness," He sighed. I've already rid myself of the Resurrection Stone. The Elder Wand will be next... I'll be disposing of it shortly, and trust me; it won't be in a place that can be got to easily."

Rajapaksa nodded. "And the cloak?"

"The cloak is a family heirloom. I have a duty to my family to pass it on to my children. And I will." The steel in Harry's voice was unmistakable.

Abelard Price looked scandalized, while Madame Glide simply looked insulted. "But... But... Artifacts of that nature... Of that age... The Ministry has..."

"A great deal to answer for, Mister Price. Especially before it's trusted as fully as it was not all that long ago. I might... Might... be willing to talk to you about the Hallows, but I am not letting anyone gather them together ever again." Harry spoke with a finality that could not be ignored. Ron and Hermione merely nodded, but it was clear that they supported him.

"Very well." Again, it was Rajapaksa speaking. "Under such circumstances, there is very little left to be said. Good evening, Mister Potter."

Harry exited the classroom behind Ron and Hermione, still angry over the arrogance of the three Ministry officials. But when he entered the hallway, he was surprised to find a small horde of people waiting. Ernie MacMillan, Hannah Abbott, Michael Corner, Dean Thomas... Even Dennis Creevey. It looked to Harry as if most of Dumbledore's Army were standing in the hall outside of the classroom.

"What's all this?" Harry was confused.

Hermione stepped forward. "You can all stand down. It was a false alarm. But thanks for coming; it really means a lot" She turned and smiled at Harry. At his confused look, she held up a single galleon. "I never got rid of mine. Neville said they hadn't either. I thought... Perhaps we might need some help."

Ron chuckled. "I really love you, you know."

Hermione just smiled. "I know."