Ch. 5 - Smashed on the Ground
“And that was the end of it, more or less,” Grayson finished. “I woke up at a portkey station, wrapped in chains, with Shacklebolt, Moody, and two others pointing wands at my head. Five minutes later, I was materializing here, and I don’t want to talk about that.” Life in Azkaban was bad for all prisoners, but it was worst for new arrivals, who had not yet learned to inure themselves to the life-sucking power of the dementors.
Dumbledore nodded. “Quite a story,” he said. He eyed the younger man sadly. The hat had known its business, he reflected. Grayson’s courage was beyond question, but his sense of justice was what truly defined him. He found the very existence of evil and injustice to be deeply offensive, and was fanatically dedicated to their destruction. That was simultaneously his greatest strength and his greatest weakness.
“I just have one question,” Grayson stated bitterly. “What were those imbeciles at the ministry thinking? They wanted Harry safe. How could they leave him with a man who was capable of killing him in a fit of temper?”
“It wasn’t their decision, Ulysses,” Dumbledore explained. “It was mine.”
A long silence, then Grayson spoke again, his voice dripping with venom. “You’d better have a very good explanation for that decision.”
Dumbledore gave the disgraced Auror a hard look. “Are you threatening me, Mr. Grayson?”
Grayson chose his words carefully. “No, professor, even if I had a wand, I would not stand a chance against you. But until you spoke those words, you were the person I admired more than any other. If the loss of my respect means nothing to you, then you have nothing to fear.”
“I don’t blame you for feeling as you do,” Dumbledore replied. “If I had your knowledge of the situation, I would agree. However, there are some things you are not aware of.”
He went on to explain, in far more detail than he would explain later with Harry, the nature of the ward he had set, tied in to his mother’s blood, which ran in Putunia’s veins, and unfortunately nowhere else. As a fully trained Auror, Grayson had a detailed knowledge of the nature of protective charms. He had never heard of this one, but that was no great surprise. Dumbledore was, after all, six times his age.
“As long as Harry lives where his mother’s blood dwells," Dumbledore concluded, "as long as he can in some way call it home, his life is safeguarded. Against all enemies.”
“Except the ones who live there as well,” Grayson said. “What happens when that fat freak has another temper tantrum, and the boy who lived becomes a red splatter on the wall?”
“I anticipated that. The nature of the charm is that young Harry's life is absolutely safeguarded. Mr. Dursley cannot do the boy any life-threatening injury. He is, unfortunately, still vulnerable to non-life threatening harm.” Dumbledore sighed. “Ulysses, the decision to leave Harry with his aunt was a difficult and heartbreaking one for me, more so than you realize. I knew that I was not just sentencing him to ten very hard years, but also to an upbringing frighteningly similar to the one that made Voldemort the monster he was. I would not have taken this risk unless I considered it absolutely essential.”
“How could what happened to Harry four months ago be 'absolutely essential'?” Grayson asked wearily.
“Because there are death-eaters still out there, dozens of them. And if they know the prophecy, they will be aware that Harry is the greatest threat to their master’s return to power. And Voldemort himself is out there as well, in some weakened form. What happens to Harry if he rises again?”
Ulysses Grayson rose to his full height. “He finds me, waiting at the door, and he has all the fight he can handle.”
Dumbledore laughed in spite of himself. “You’re really something else, Ulysses. And there is no doubt, you have exceptional potential. But you’re not ready to face Voldemort, not now. Perhaps the day will come when you are a match for him, but that day is not today.” He smiled grimly. “In any case, there will be no more acts of abuse. Kingsley has seen to that.”
“How?”
“When he led the obliviation team to wipe the memories of the Dursleys and their neighbors, he exercised his authority and left Vernon’s intact. And he quietly told him that if Harry ever showed up in a hospital with another suspicious-looking injury, he would personally pull you out of prison and turn you loose on him. And that you would have all the quality time together you wanted.”
“Good old Kingsley. Remind me to buy him a butterbeer, if I ever get out of here. Make that a steak dinner.”
“I’ll do that,” Dumbledore said. “Now, I’m afraid the air in our little space is becoming stale. I’m going to have to leave you.” He rose to his feet, and the chair faded from existence.
Grayson sighed. “What happens now?”
“Your hearing before the Wizengamot is in three days. Dionysus Filch will be presiding. He’s hard, but he’s fair.”
“A man after my own heart.”
“And he owes me a small favor; I gave his Squib nephew, Argus, a job. You probably remember him from your days at Hogwarts."
Grayson made a face. "All too well."
"Anyway, I will address the Wizengamot and recommend clemency. So, ironically, will Lucius Malfoy.”
Grayson laughed bitterly at the thought. “Yeah, he thinks muggle-torturing should be legal anyway.”
“But he is influential, and we will use him to our advantage. I cannot guarantee success, but I think our chances are good.” Dumbledore turned toward the door. “You are a good man, Ulysses. I thought it before, and I still think so today.”
“And you still have my respect, Professor. Even if I think you were wrong this time. About putting Harry with the Dursleys, I mean.”
“You have mine as well, Ulysses, for that very reason. You are one of only a handful of wizards who would dare tell me I was wrong about anything. Rather than simply assume the beliefs of your superiors without question, you choose to think for yourself. This world needs more people who possess that quality.” Dumbledore winked. “Good-bye, Ulysses.”
“Good-bye, Professor.”
Dumbledore turned to go, and the bubble went with him. As Grayson passed out of it, the tidal wave of dementor-powered despair smashed over him and drove him to his knees.