Penthuisiast
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SD: CH35 - Baby Steps
🕑 Added 2023-01-29 17:16:27 +0000 UTC“Is there anyone else?”
The crowd was giving me strange looks, like I had just sprouted off an extra head. They were simply too unused to the idea of someone throwing a Malfoy down from their self-claimed pedestal. Granted, it wasn’t a big pedestal, especially since little Draco was only banking on his father’s power to make himself look intimidating. Honestly, Draco was being stupid. Inherited power was great, but only when used in the right context. Or else, you could end up painting yourself as a prodigal son at best, to an uninspired loser at worst, living through the glory of his ancestry.
Draco belonged to the latter category. In retrospect, it was probably for the better that I planned to throw him out of the family. And today’s events would go a long way in getting me there.
Sending my wand back into the holster, I walked up to Penelope, who was still on the floor. I had seen her crawling earlier to escape the spellfire, so she must have hurt her knee or something.
“You alright?” I asked, offering my hand. Trepidation flashed across her face before she grabbed my hand. She fell over my shoulder, so I grabbed her by the waist for support, and helped her up.
“It hurts…” she said, looking down at her soiled attire, which was dripping blood.
“Where?”
“Above the knee,” she said, “I think I sprained my leg.”
“Can’t do anything about sprains unfortunately,” I admitted, “but I’m a fair hand at re-knitting wounds. Are you familiar with the Episkey spell?”
She nodded. Susan and Hannah came up and helped me help her sit on a chair. Neither of the two commented anything about my actions, and not for lack of interest. Hannah had a strange, knowing expression on her face, while Susan looked like she wanted nothing but to put me through an Inquisition.
I felt a slight tinge of agony in my chest at that. Healing spells or not, I was one step away from magical exhaustion. Really, what was I thinking, doing that stunt with Malfoy and taking the cruciatus to the face?
“Harry?” asked Hannah, concern flooding her features. “You… you need to rest.”
“No…” I breathed, though it came out as a pant. Damn it, I hated looking weak. “I’m fine. Just…”
“You’re not fine,” claimed Susan, grabbing my hand, “you were just hit by the cruciatus. You need rest.”
“I’m fine,” I stressed, and looked at Penelope. “Sorry, I couldn’t heal it any more than that. A pain-reliever should solve things, though.”
I faltered slightly, but grabbed a chair right on time.
“Harry—” Hannah grabbed me, and helped me to the chair. “No,” she asserted before I could voice my objections.”You took an unforgivable head on. What were you thinking?”
The sound of someone apparating attracted my attention. To my surprise, it was Nymphadora Tonks. She looked exactly like she did back at my apartment. Pink hair, heart-shaped face, large, bright, hazel eyes and a willowy figure cloaked in Auror attire. Our gazes met, and she froze for a second, before that spark of hesitation vanished as her eyes quickly scanned the area for potential trouble, before she keyed in on Susan and walked into the patio towards us.
Nymphadora’s brows furrowed as she surveyed me. How she adopted elegance into such a common motion was beyond me.
“Being in the presence of an Auror twice in one summer is considered a bad thing, no?”
I shrugged. “I enjoy living dangerously.”
“What happened here?” She asked, turning to Susan, “I received your distress signal.”
“Them,” said Susan, pointing at Malfoy’s fallen form, and the still frothing and whimpering Crabbe and unconscious Goyle.
I could almost see the gears running in Tonks’s mind, as Susan quickly recounted everything that happened. She conveniently omitted Crabbe’s treatment of Penelope and instead focussed on my altercation with Draco. She stressed on how I had never once used my wand, and only dodged the attacks from them, incapacitating them using minimal but effective muggle techniques. Nymphadora’s gaze switched from Susan to me and back, as if trying to verify her statement with what she knew about me.
And then Susan finally went round to talking about the cruciatus.
“He used an unforgivable?” Nymphadora whispered furiously, glancing at Draco’s unconscious form with anger, before quickly scanning my entire form. No doubt she was seeing the entire image of me sitting in the chair, looking slightly haggard in a different light. Given who I was, and the use of an unforgivable in public, in the presence of multiple witnesses, and given the offender was Draco Malfoy, I wouldn’t even fault her if she tried to shake her hands off the case.
Palming her face, she finally asked me, “Are… you fine, Mr. Potter?”
“As fine as I can after cruciatus exposure, Auror,” I replied in my best formal voice.
“You don’t get to say that,” Hannah snapped. “What were you thinking? Casting advanced healing spells right after, to help Malfoy, of all people?”
“Oh, you know, just wanted to see what being a saint feels like,” I quipped.
Hannah growled.
“Potter’s an idiot!” said Susan briskly. “I told him not to involve himself. And look at what happened.”
“What I don’t understand,” said Tonks, rubbing her temples, “is why would you even do such a thing?”
I didn’t reply. Instead, I just smiled and looked at Penelope, who was staring at me as if seeing me for the first time.
“... why?” she croaked.
“Because I am not a fan of people in power treating others unfairly.” I shifted my gaze to Tonks. “I don’t care if you’re the biggest cat in town. If you look down on those weaker than you, I’ll judge you for it.”
I turned to Penelope. “I will not ask why a former Head Girl has to work in a place like this. It's obvious you ran out of options to make ends meet in our esteemed society. If you wish, I… My firm can have a place for you.”
Penelope mumbled something under her breath.
“I’m sorry?”
“I said I don't need your pity,” she said. The defiant look in her eyes offered a sharp contrast to the red in her cheek.
“Wrong!” I told her. “Pity is exactly what you need. For you, Penelope Clearwater, are an idiot.”
Penelope flinched, as if struck.
Do you know why? Because you do not know the difference between pity and opportunity. Hannah’s mum gave an offer. You refused. Amelia freaking’ Bones could’ve gotten you an offer, but again, you refused. And now, Harry fucking Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, is giving you an offer in public, right after standing up for you, and you, Penelope Clearwater, are refusing. Why? Because of your pride? Pride that has you falling from the prestigious position of Head Girl to mopping tables for Malfoy and his ilk.”
“I’m here because of Malfoy and his ilk,” Penelope said hotly.
I smirked inwardly. That display of anger meant it was getting to her.
“Wrong,” I sneered. “You’re here because you’re a fool. You’re stupid enough to show public bias against Slytherins, dumb enough to grab the Head Girl position despite knowing the bigotry in the system, and stubborn enough to not take whatever opportunity life throws your way. Penelope Clearwater, you’re a fucking imbecile. That’s what you are.”
“You don’t know what it’s like for us, muggleborns, Potter!” she snarled. “You’re a Lord. You don’t know what it is to be like me.”
A frightening rage flitted through my mind. This girl… did she have any idea what Harry Potter suffered over his entire childhood? Did she have any idea what pains I took to reach the heights I did in my previous life?
“You’re right,” I said, my voice dangerously low. “I do not. I do not know what it is like to be you. Because unlike you, I’m not a dumb idiot. I kept you uninvolved in this mess, but turns out I was wrong. You. Deserve. This.”
Every single person around me flinched. Even Tonks.
I turned and met Nymphadora’s gaze. “Auror Cadet Tonks, I wish to file a complaint against Draco Malfoy, Gregory Goyle and Vincent Crabbe. Both Crabbe and Goyle have tried to physically and magically assault my person, despite no aggravation on my part.”
Tonks arched an eyebrow. “No aggravation? Somehow I doubt that.”
“No aggravation,” I stated firmly. “I was in the middle of a pleasant conversation with Susan and Hannah, and I heard Crabbe slapping Miss Clearwater. I found that irritating the ambience and simply went to ask him what his problem was. It is not my fault he reacted that badly, or took my curiosity as provocation.”
Susan snorted. I ignored her.
“Draco Malfoy fired lethal curses at me, including, but not limited to, an unforgivable. And then he was about to cast even more curses, but I managed to… restrain him.”
Susan snorted again. “That was more than restraining, Potter.”
“Without magic, I might add, only as an act of self-defense.” I said, ignoring her again, and flicked my wrist. Goyle’s wand came flying into my palm.
Susan’s laughter died. Ignoring the surprised looks on their faces, I continued. “This is Goyle’s wand. Malfoy used this to attack me. He also boasted about his lack of fear of the DMLE. To quote him, my father has the ear of the Minister.”
“Why didn’t you use magic?”
“And risk under DMLE inquisition?” I teased, “you remember how the last one went, don’t you?”
Tonks turned pink.
“That said, I did cast two spells. Healing ones. The first to re-knit Draco Malfoy’s wounds, and the second, to help our ungrateful friend here.”
“I’m not—” Penelope began, but one look from Tonks silenced her, before turning to me.
“You can cast healing magic?”
“Enough to pass by.”
Susan snorted again. She liked to do that a lot. “Enough to pass by, he says.” She looked at Tonks. “I heard it. He used Vulnera Sanentur. In triples.”
“But that’s—” Tonks’s gaze flickered at me in apprehension, “an advanced healing spell. How does a third-year know something like that?”
I sighed. “I read. You should try it sometime.”
Tonks rolled her eyes. “I’m registering this complaint. You’ll receive official intimation from the DMLE to provide your testimony.”
“We’ll do the same,” said Susan. Hannah quickly nodded in consent.
“I’ll testify as well—” Penelope began.
“No,” I snapped at her. “Your presence doesn’t count, muggle born. Neither do I care if you were, or were not present at the scene. Get back to your waitressing.”
Penelope flinched, but stood up and left.
“What a waste of space!” I muttered behind her, as I glared at Susan, as if this was her fault. “How someone like that can become the Head Girl I’ll never know.”
“I told you,” Susan said, the usual heat absent from her voice. “You should not have interfered. You cannot save someone that doesn’t want to be saved, Potter. Not everyone is a damsel in distress.”
“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about,” I murmured.
“But I do,” said Susan. “I’m not blind, and neither am I deaf. Hermione Granger, Ginny Weasley, and then Granger again earlier this year. And I know you’ve a contract with Hannah’s mum. And now this… You’re a playboy and a jock, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know the way you think, Harry Potter.”
I arched an eyebrow. Even Hannah was looking at her friend curiously.
Susan looked like she was about to imitate a tomato, but somehow stayed composed. “You’re going home now. Auror Tonks, can I request you to apparate him home?”
“Uh, yes?” Tonks replied. I wondered just how used she was to taking orders from Susan. Given the entire distress signal she mentioned earlier, perhaps she was put on Susan’s protection team? The DMLE Head’s niece and Bones Heir was a VIP citizen after all.
Susan turned at me, put one hand at her hip and arched an eyebrow. “Well? Get going, Potter. We haven’t got all day. I’ll take care of things here.”
“Yes, mother,” I chanted.
...
...
...
The aftermath of the event was, well, not uneventful, but not surprising either. Hermione had been conflicted between being mortified about my cruciatus exposure, and trying to get me to bed. Nymphadora had called Hestia in as well, and unless I was terribly wrong, informed Dumbledore as well. And even if she didn’t, Hestia definitely would. There was no doubt the attack would be the headlines of tomorrow's paper, and I needed to prepare for it.
Now only if Hermione stopped bossing me around.
“No, means, no, Harry,” she put her foot down, standing at the edge of my bed, “You need rest, and that’s it. If you don’t, I’m calling Professor Dumbledore.”
I exchanged an amused glance with Hestia, who stood next to her. I had a member of the Order of the Phoenix assisting me in day-in day-out activities. That Albus Dumbledore had not shown up, or worse, sent the Weasleys in his stead, only spoke of the level of control and his trust in Hestia’s ability to manage things.
The attack was in public. Eventually, the Weasleys would get to know about it.
Great! I cursed. More drama.
“There is just one thing I don’t understand,” said Hestia. “Why didn’t you take him seriously?”
I narrowed my eyes.
Hestia crossed her arms. “I talked to the witnesses, Harry. Every single one agreed you were playing with Malfoy and his goons. You didn’t even cast a single spell, and I know how quick your spell casting is.”
Oh yeah, Hestia had come down to the dungeons a couple of weeks ago, and seen me training. Spellcasting, that is, not the twisted, bloody, mind-bending horrors that Walburga made me take part in. She had literally seen me go through half of my arsenal of combat spells against moving targets simultaneously. It was the best I could do when not actively using the Natural Demon perk. I don’t know how that performance stood compared to standard Auror training, but Hestia definitely looked impressed.
She had shown her admiration in extra detail that night. And without silencing charms, too. Poor Hermione didn’t get an ounce of sleep that night.
“You’re overthinking things, Hestia. Everything went according to my plan.”
Hestia narrowed her eyes. “You set it up.”
“What?” Hermione asked, startled. “A setup? Harry! What were you thinking? What’s wrong with you?”
“I told you, Hermione,” I said, pushing myself against the pillow and sitting up, “Sirius wanted me as his heir. I told you I will go to any lengths to prove myself worthy of it.”
“But why this? Why did you have to—” Hermione began.
“It was risky,” said Hestia, frowning. “I can admit it ended nicely, but it was a major risk. You were foolish.”
I arched an eyebrow. “Am I? ‘Cause this was just the best situation I could ever have conjured.”
“Draco Malfoy cast an unforgivable.”
“In public. On the Boy-Who-Lived, with the Bones Heir as my official witness. And I didn’t even use any magic against him.”
“And then you registered a complaint.”
“Draco Malfoy turns seventeen in five months. Even with my Lord Conditional status, I couldn’t stop him from becoming Heir Apparent. And when that happens, my status would clash against him, and Lucius Malfoy and Fudge would ensure Draco won the toss.”
“But now Draco cast an unforgivable.” Hermione caught on.
“And is thus a criminal,” finished Hestia. “You cannot take up family mantles registered to the Wizengamot without an active clearance from the DMLE.” A small smile formed on her lips. “Impressive. I imagine this is why you wanted to keep the Lord Conditional status secret from the masses?”
I cocked my head to the right. “One of many reasons, yes.”
“And yet you displayed it to Auror Tonks.” She challenged. “For someone willing to play the long game, you’re being awfully bold.”
Damn. She was a quick one, wasn’t she? Then again, that was why I hired her.
“I consider myself an excellent reader of people. And I believe Miss Tonks will not betray my confidence.”
“And that she’s a member of the Black family,” Hestia finished, her tone almost accusing.
“Yes.”
There was no point in denying that bit.
“I have one year to prove Sirius’s innocence, and today’s event will ensure Draco Malfoy doesn’t get to butt in and destroy my careful planning.”
“Do you really think that, Harry?” asked Hermione, “Knowing Malfoy? You know his father forced Professor Dumbledore out back in our second year.”
“That was that, and this is this,” I told her. “The Board of Governors runs Hogwarts, and Lucius Malfoy is one among them. This is a Wizengamot matter. It’s about Ancient Houses. And you’re right, Lucius Malfoy might get the Minister to drop the charges or twist the event to something else, but it does not negate the fact that Draco cast an unforgivable. And that means he ought to be sent to Azkaban.”
“He won’t if the Minister orders the Aurors not to,” Hermione replied stubbornly.
“True. But will the Wizengamot allow a criminal to take up a mantle as prestigious as Black? What precedent would that set?”
“You cannot be sure, Harry,” said Hestia, frowning. “Lucius Malfoy has the Wizengamot eating out his hands. For all we know, this complaint might not even get registered.”
I stopped resisting the grin that was threatening to break out of my lips. “And that, my dear Hestia, is exactly what I am banking on.”
“...”
I smiled.
