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Power Plays Chapter 24 (Finale of Part 1 of Power Plays)
🕑 Added 2023-09-08 15:59:01 +0000 UTCAN: Here we are at the end of Part 1 of Power Plays. I always intended for this story to be made up of multiple parts, and I'm quite happy that I made it to this point. I have the next part roughly planned out, and I can tell you that there will be a fair bit more smut involved, but this will still be a plot-heavy story. I might a break from this story next month just to give myself a little extra time to plot it out, but we'll see.
Anyway, I hope you all enjoy!
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Harry didn’t look up as Dawlish walked down his front steps cautiously with his wand in his hand; his gaze was solely focused on Susan’s unblinking face. He knew he should close her eyes—it was the right thing to do in situations like this—but he just couldn’t. Closing her eyes felt like he’d be saying goodbye to her, and he wasn’t ready for that.
Once upon a time in Venice, he’d wondered if they’d end up as something more. Then their assignments had taken them in different directions when they’d returned back to England, and weeks went by where neither of them had the time to meet up. Once they did have free time to maybe start a relationship, it had been too long since Venice for things to still be the same. They’d both found other people and moved on, but there had always been a niggling doubt in his mind that maybe if he had just tried hard enough, he could have made something work with her.
And then just when she came back into his life, he met Daphne.
It was a cruel twist of fate that once he’d chosen Daphne, Susan was gone from his life for good. He kept replaying the fight back in his mind. He’d seen how exhausted Susan had been and how she needed his support in the fight. Maybe he could have killed Bellatrix and the other Death Eaters faster, but maybe they would have killed Susan just as fast anyways. Maybe if they weren’t working such long hours every night, Susan would have been better able to defend herself. Maybe if the Ministry had been competently run from the start, this whole thing could have been avoided.
There were a lot of maybes Harry was wondering about now, and none of them would do him any good. What had happened was over and done with now; there was no changing the past. But, he could alter the future to make sure that this never happened to anyone else again.
“Potter,” Dawlish called out, not unkindly. He was standing just a few feet away, looking awkward with his wand at his side.
After working with the man for years, Harry had learnt to read his expressions pretty well. Dawlish was never one for playing coy, so he didn’t make it particularly difficult either. And right now, all that Harry saw as he looked up at the man’s face was shame. Dawlish tried to hide it, and he partially succeeded with his awkward expression, but it wasn’t enough to mask what he was truly feeling.
When Harry didn’t respond to the man, Dawlish cleared his throat. “Bones was a good Hit Witch,” he stammered out. “You did all that you could—”
“But you didn’t,” Harry snapped sharply. His temper was rising exponentially with each passing second that he had to look at Dawlish’s face. The anger that had fuelled Bellatrix’s death was here again, and Harry was imagining what it would look like with Dawlish dead in front of him.
Dawlish blustered at the accusation. “I had to put my family first,” he said, trying to defend his cowardice. “Surely you understand.”
Harry did understand wanting to protect your family. The people around him, the friends he’d made, those he’d sworn to protect, they had all become his family. He would defend them from those that would do them harm, and he’d do it by confronting the danger directly.
Only, he hadn’t. He hadn’t been able to protect Susan.
The Death Eaters had come here tonight for Dawlish. Their attacks on the public weren’t getting them what they wanted, so they’d decided to go after Ministry targets. Dawlish would have been an easy kill for Bellatrix, and the death of the Head Auror would have severely damaged the Ministry’s reputation, even if he was on temporary leave by the Minister’s order.
They wouldn’t have been here if Dawlish hadn’t been the Head Auror.
Harry realised now that he’d been too lax. He’d known that Dawlish was a problem, and he’d been content to play the slow game by discrediting Dawlish in the eyes of the public first before winning over influential people in the Ministry to force him out. He’d made sure that Rita regularly attacked Dawlish for the gaffs that he orchestrated and for any failings within the Auror Department, and Amelia had even come over to his side and had fought back against Dawlish’s incompetence even when Proudfoot was trying to convince her of Harry’s subterfuge to topple Dawlish. All of his cunning had worked, and yet it had all been too late.
Cunning wouldn’t guarantee success. Not unless he paired it with the boldness to act when the situation called for it.
If he wanted to enact changes within the Ministry, there’d come a time where he wouldn’t be able to hide his feelings any longer. Perhaps it was past the point that he made some of his opinions known. Maybe if he’d done so already, Dawlish would have already been forced out.
The time for Dawlish’s removal had long since arrived, and Harry wasn’t going to stand for another night of it.
Carefully, Harry set Susan’s body back down on the ground before he got to his feet.
“I understand what you did, Dawlish,” Harry said, unable to hide the venom from his tone. “You had to protect your sickly wife. And yourself.”
“No, I—”
“You’re a coward,” Harry continued, ignoring Dawlish. “You’ve always been too afraid to stand up to the pure-blood families that continue to uphold Voldemort’s legacy in secret. You’ve known for years that you could have worked to prevent a situation exactly like this with Death Eaters roaming the country and murdering hundreds of civilians, but you decided to take the easy road instead and deliberately ignored the rot hidden beneath the veneer of our society.”
Harry flicked his wand, and a thin rope of fire was conjured from the tip of his wand. He wielded it like a whip, readying himself.
“I’ll make sure to clean up the mess you left,” Harry shouted at him as he threw his arm forward.
The fire whip snapped through the air as it made its way towards Dawlish. The man’s face lit up in fear as the flames got to within inches of his face, but his years of Auror training won out in the end as he hastily conjured a shield just in time.
The translucent shield formed a bubble around Dawlish, and Harry twisted his wrist so that the fire whip wrapped around the shield three times over. Then, he pulled back hard on his wand, and the whip tightened around Dawlish’s shield.
“Stop this!” Dawlish cried out over the sounds of his shield cracking. “You’re not a killer, Potter!”
Wasn’t he? For years now, his claim to fame had been that he’d killed a dark lord. He’d killed Quirrel and the Basilisk before that. He suppose that they’d all been justified in their own way, just like Dawlish’s death would be justified.
Harry narrowed his eyes as he flared his magic. Dawlish’s shield let out a tremendous crack, and then it caved inward.
Dawlish screamed as Harry’s fire whip wrapped around his body and burned his flesh. He dropped his wand when the whip bound his arms to his side. He would have fallen to the ground too had Harry not been forcibly keeping the whip in place to make sure that Dawlish couldn’t fall.
Harry walked right up to Dawlish as the man howled and screamed. He was pleading for mercy, cursing Harry, and begging for death all at once. Harry heard none of it. He just stared into Dawlish’s panicked eyed as he thrashed against the bonds that wouldn’t let him go.
“Who’s there?”
Harry turned quickly to see Dawlish’s wife, Ethel, stepping out onto the front steps in her dressing gown. The old woman clung to the edge of the doorway for support as she looked around with unseeing eyes.
Suddenly, Harry cut off his spell, and Dawlish collapsed onto the ground. He followed it up with a stunning spell, leaving the man silent and unconscious until Harry could deal with Ethel.
“John?” Ethel called out, looking right at where her husband’s unconscious body was. She’d definitely heard his screams; the frightened look on her face was impossible to miss. Harry felt bad that she had to experience that; she wasn’t in a right state of mind all the time, and this would only add to the confusion she suffered from. It was only because Dawlish took such good care of her that she hadn’t ended up in the Janus Thickey Ward at St Mungo’s.
It’d be best to stun her and put her back inside the house, Harry figured. There was a chance she wouldn’t even remember any of this anyway, and she hadn’t seen his face. He could play off Dawlish’s death as having been done by the Death Eaters during the fight, and her being stunned was just some accidental crossfire.
The stunning spell was on the tip of his wand when the sound of a crying bird made him freeze.
“Oh, hush now,” Ethel huffed as she held out her arm as straight as she could. She only wavered a bit when a greenish-black-coloured Augurey landed on her arm.
Harry blinked in surprise, almost stunned at what he was seeing. They’d already discovered that Euphemia Rowle was the one who owned an Augurey. She was the one who was conspiring with the Death Eaters! So why did Ethel have one?
“Hush,” Ethel cooed. Her other hand came up and began to softly stroke the Augurey’s feathers. “John? What’s going on?”
The Augurey flapped its wings to take to the air as Ethel fell to Harry’s stunning spell. He only paused long enough to apply a cushioning charm on the ground so that she didn’t hurt herself as she fell, and then she stunned the Augurey in mid flight and placed the unconscious bird beside Ethel.
“Wake up!” Harry snapped as he cast the Reviving Spell to bring Dawlish back to consciousness.
Dawlish groaned in pain as he writhed around on the ground. His hands came up to his face and felt along the twisted lash of burnt skin. He started crying then, but Harry felt no sympathy for the man. He’d stood by and left him and Susan to fend for themselves against the Death Eaters. He should have been there helping them. He should have died instead of Susan.
“Why does your wife own an Augurey?” Harry asked angrily.
Dawlish just moaned and rolled over onto his belly. He tried to crawl away, but Harry just kicked him in the side and flipped him onto his back again.
“Tell me!” Harry shouted at him, placing the tip of his wand against Dawlish’s throat.
Dawlish cried louder, hesitating for a moment as he looked up at Harry’s furious face. “It’s Ethel’s pet,” he blubbered out. “She had one as a young girl, and, well, with her condition…”
As Dawlish trailed off, Harry’s mind flipped back to the conversation he’d had with Susan at her house. The Auror Department had captured one nine months ago when they broke up an illegal importation ring. The trade of Augurey’s was heavily restricted in England, and you usually needed a special permit from the Ministry to get one.
The one that the Auror Department had was supposed to be handed over to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, but there was no records of them receiving it. The Augurey had been missing, but no one cared enough to look into the matter until Harry and Susan.
Even back then, they’d both suspected that Dawlish had a hand in what had occurred. Harry had wondered if Dawlish had handed over the Augurey to Euphemia Rowle, as dubious as that idea seemed to be. Well, it seems like that guess was wrong, as he’d expected. Dawlish had kept the Augurey for himself.
A flare of anger shot through Harry. “Why the hell did you steal it from the Ministry?” Harry demanded to know. It infuriated him to know that Dawlish’s actions had only muddled the case to stop Bellatrix. If they hadn’t had this confusing piece of the puzzle, maybe they would have been able to solve things faster. Maybe Susan could have lived.
“I… I…” Dawlish stammered. “I didn’t want the press to know about Ethel’s condition.”
“What?” Harry said aloud, a frown coming over his face.
“They’ve been brutal to me,” Dawlish explained with a whimpering tone. “And I didn’t want Ethel dragged into it. If I got a permit, they’d ask more questions like they always do. I didn’t want to subject Ethel to the press’s tyranny. I figured no one would notice me taking it.”
“But they did,” Harry realised. “Amos Diggory noticed it.”
Dawlish nodded his head sadly. “He wanted to turn me in, but I made him stay quiet,” he admitted. “Ethel needs her Augurey; it’s one of the few things that helps keep her grounded to happier thoughts. When she looks at her, sometimes its like she’s a kid again, and she smiles. I haven’t seen her smile so much in years.”
This man did all that just to see his wife smile again?
“Please, Potter, kill me if you have to, but leave my wife alone,” Dawlish pleaded.
Did this man really think that Harry was going to hurt his wife? Was that what he saw when he looked at Harry: a man who’d hurt innocent, feeble women?
Harry forced himself to take a deep breath. His fury over Susan’s death was getting the better of him, and he couldn’t let that happen.
If he did, he might make a mistake. This was a dangerous game he was playing in trying to climb to the top of the Ministry. It wasn’t so long ago that the press was after him, proclaiming him to be the enemy of the people, and Harry wasn’t so foolish as to believe that picture of him had left the minds of everyone, even if he had killed Voldemort and saved them from tyranny.
He could kill Dawlish now and get a moment’s satisfaction at ending the one who had caused him so much trouble, but there was another way. A cunning way, but one that would open opportunities for him. And then, he could make his mark.
He’d never tried the spell he had in mind personally, but he’d seen it done. Dumbledore had shown Voldemort using it inside of his Pensive, and Hermione had used it on her parents.
He just had to get it right so that no Legilimens could break through it.
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The Ministry was silent so late at night. Those whom Harry had come into contact with had done well to avoid notice as they rounded up the important individuals that were needed at the meeting. Almost all of the Department Heads were in attendance, most having been roused from their sleep. The Chief Warlock, Elphias Doge, was here too for this meeting as he would be informing the Wizengamot about the night’s proceedings tomorrow. Finally, the Minister, Kingsley Shacklebolt, sat at the head of the long table in this conference room, looking terribly grave.
It was an emotion shared around the room because there was one unoccupied chair that everyone couldn’t help but glance at.
Amelia Bones was absent. She was somewhere down below in a temporary morgue that was normally used to house the bodies of those who’d been sentenced to death. Now, it held her niece.
Everyone in the room felt sympathy for Amelia, even those who hadn’t gotten on well with her. To be the last of ones family was not a fate any of them would wish on another. There’d be many cases of it happening during the war, but peace had reigned for long enough that most families on the brink of extinction had recovered. Now, the Bones family joined the sad list of families that may die out should anything happen to their last member.
A groan shook everyone out of their thoughts.
Kingsley leaned forward in his chair and locked eyes with Harry, who was stood at the opposite end of the long table with his wand at the ready. Dawlish was seated in the chair beside Harry, stirring as he started to come to. Thick ropes bound him to the chair, and iron manacles kept his hands locked in place. There would be no escape, nor any chance of him harming anyone in the room.
Dawlish slowly blinked his eyes open. Everyone watched as the world came into focus for the man. He slowly looked around, taking in everyone’s disgusted expressions, and then settled his gaze on Kingsley.
An angry scowl came upon Dawlish’s face as he looked at the Minister.
Kingsley shook his head sadly. “John Dawlish. I never expected you to have been the one leaking information to the Death Eaters.”
Dawlish snarled at Kingsley and tried to lunge towards him, but the ropes around him held him in place.
“It was an accident,” Harry told Kingsley. “Dawlish said as much. Just a stupid, drunken mistake after the argument he and I had in your office. He didn’t realise that the man he’d become drinking buddies with was associated with the Death Eaters.”
“That doesn’t excuse him from leaking Ministry secrets!” Kingsley shouted back. Regret was evident on his face a moment later. He rubbed his temples and sighed. “I’m sorry, Harry. You’re not the one at fault here. I shouldn’t be so short with you.”
“You’re under a lot of stress,” Harry replied sympathetically. “I can’t imagine it’s been easy on you.”
“No, it hasn’t,” Kingsley sighed again. He took a moment to recompose himself before he focused back in on Dawlish. “Why John?”
Dawlish squirmed in his seat, looking furious and desperate for a way to break his bonds so that he could lash out and attack everyone in the room. “Because you’ve always favoured Potter. Back when we had that fight in your office, you took his side!” Dawlish spat out accusingly.
“I didn’t take anyone’s side,” Kingsley insisted.
“Which is as good as taking his,” Dawlish retorted. “I’m his superior; his decisions should be under my scrutiny to determine whether they were appropriate or not. You just chose to support him because he’s your precious little golden boy.”
Kingsley was visibly getting more and more angry at Dawlish’s accusations. “If you think that I’m anything but impartial and rational in my judgements—”
Dawlish cut off Kingsley with a loud guffaw.
“Take him away,” Kingsley snapped. “John Dawlish, for leaking Ministry secrets, stealing a Class XX Beast from the Ministry of Magic, and assaulting an Auror in the line of duty, I hereby sentence you to twenty years in Azkaban. Tomorrow, I’ll present the case before the Wizengamot and see that they ratify it.”
As Dawlish opened his mouth to reply, Harry hit the man with a stunner. Although his spellwork had been as strong as ever, he didn’t trust Dawlish well enough to think that he wouldn’t possibly get Harry into trouble by opening his mouth.
“Thank you,” Kingsley said to Harry. “This mess had gone on long enough.”
“I’m sorry,” Harry apologised.
“No, no,” Kingsley shook his head slowly. “You have nothing to apologise for. If anything, I should be thanking you. You stopped Bellatrix Lestrange and uncovered Dawlish’s folly. The Ministry owes you a great debt, again, Harry. If there’s anything I could do for you, you’d need only name it.”
Harry bit back the smile that was threatening to spill out.
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“You should have kept her safe,” Amelia told him coldly.
Those were the exact words Harry had been repeating to himself for days now.
He didn’t exactly have a reply he felt comfortable saying. Part of him wanted to rage that if it wasn’t for the unrelenting schedule they’d had, Susan would have been safe. Her exhaustion wouldn’t have hampered her ability to fight and protect herself. But that wasn’t the entire truth of the matter. If he had done more, if he’d dealt with Dawlish before this, maybe this entire situation could have been avoided.
So, Harry did what little he could. He nodded in agreement.
If anything, his reply only seemed to make Amelia colder. Her anger didn’t come out hot like it did in Bellatrix or from Harry himself; Amelia’s anger was shown through her icy glare and the defensive posture. She was tensed, like the wrong move would make her curse him.
“How did it happen?” Amelia asked with a look that told Harry there’d be no arguing on the matter.
So, Harry told her about the fight. The scene that they arrived to, how Dawlish hid like a coward, how he and Susan got separated, how Bellatrix killed Susan, how he killed Bellatrix in return. He spared no details, knowing that Amelia would want to hear all of them regardless of how gruesome they were.
Amelia didn’t utter a single word throughout. She just listened attentively, never letting any emotion out from within her mind.
When Harry finished the story, Amelia didn’t say a word to him. She just turned on her heels and stalked away.
Harry watched her go, wishing he could do the same. His anger hadn’t dissipated; he’d merely pushed it down so that his plans could be achieved.
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When Harry arrived at Greengrass Manor, Hobsy informed him that Daphne wasn’t here right now. It didn’t take more than a second for Harry to apparate to St Mungo’s.
She was sitting beside a bed in a room in the Janus Thickey Ward. It was quiet in the ward today, but this room held a silence deeper than the rest of the ward. Daphne was holding her best friend’s, Tracey Davis’s, left hand in both of hers as she looked on desperately at her unconscious form. Harry hated to disturb her, but it was necessary.
When he opened the door, Daphne hesitate for a second before she looked over at Harry. Her eyes were filled with tears.
Without missing a beat, Daphne stood enough and rushed over to Harry’s side. She clung to him like if she let him go, he’d disappear into the aether, unable to return to the mortal world.
“You did it,” she gasped, holding back the tears that were threatening to spill out from her eyes.
“I did,” Harry replied evenly. He didn’t want to talk about what it had cost him, not with Daphne at least. Their relationship was still fresh and new; bringing up Susan’s death wouldn’t do either of them any good.
Daphne let her tears spill out against Harry’s shoulder as tremors wracked her body. Harry held her close to him, whispering small comforts into her ear that he was sure she wasn’t hearing.
Eventually, Daphne pulled away from him and wiped the remaining tears off of her face. In a terribly quiet voice, she let out a shuddering breath. “The healers say that it’ll take a few days for her to wake up,” she told Harry. Despite that statement, she still looked over at Tracey hopefully like she’d wake up sooner. “And it’ll be months before she’s healthy enough again to leave this place. The healers don’t know what type of lasting damage the curse will have done to her, even after her magic purges it from her system. At the very least, the repeated use of the Cruciatus Curse will leave her with some nerve damage.”
“I know you’ll do everything you can to help her through it,” Harry replied soothingly. “And I’ll be here too.”
Daphne smiled at him. “Thank you,” she said sincerely. “How did things go with the Minister?”
Harry chuckled. “It’s still so surreal to me that you seem to know everything that’s going on at the Ministry.”
Daphne giggled along with him. “Anyone competent enough in the Wizengamot has their contacts. So, what happened?”
Harry pulled back his lapel, revealing a golden badge hidden inside of his robes. “Kingsley made me the new Head Auror. Dawlish is going to Azkaban most likely.”
“Good,” Daphne replied. “That man was a pathetic excuse for a Head Auror. You’ll do a much better job.”
Harry nodded along, preparing himself for what he was about to ask her. “I know that we’ve talked about us being together—”
“We are together,” Daphne corrected him.
“We are,” Harry agreed. “But I’m giving you an out if you want it.”
“What?” Daphne said in shock, taking a step back from him.
“I’m not content to be playing on the sidelines anymore,” Harry told her. “The Ministry needs to change, and I know that I can make that happen. It’s going to get me a lot of pushback, especially from the pure-blood families that still hold to Voldemort’s ideals, but it won’t stop me from doing what’s necessary to fix things. I just want you to know this, and if you’re having second thoughts—”
Daphne thumped her fist against his chest. “Don’t go there with me,” she told him sternly. “You promised that you’d be mine, and I’m not letting you walk back on that.”
“I’m not trying to walk back on it,” Harry assured her. “But, I will be making changes to the world. I just wasn’t sure if our politics would still align now that you’re a part of the Wizengamot and I’ve dealt with Bellatrix.”
“I hate the Death Eaters,” Daphne replied sharply. “And while there’s plenty of little things we probably disagree on, our goals are the same. Why do you think I got into politics? I want to change things too. I don’t want any more people getting hurt like Tracey was—at least, not the good ones. The Ministry is incompetent. Fudge was controlled by Lucius Malfoy before the war, and there hasn’t been a dominant leader in the Wizengamot since. I intend to make a name for myself and my family by taking control of the Wizengamot, and I can think of no better partner than you to help us both get what we want.”
Harry felt a load of worry leave his mind and body. Honestly, he shouldn’t have been so nervous to have this conversation. Daphne had always been upfront with him.
“Then, we’ll do this together,” Harry said as he took Daphne’s hands into his.
Daphne nodded, a brilliant smile gracing her lips. “Together.”
