A/N: I own nothing of Harry Potter!!!!
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Harry slowly lowered himself into a large, cushioned chair next to Remus as he faced a table with four, well-dressed ministry men. He recognized only Jacob, the man who had come to get him at the hospital, sitting in the right, center. He took in a solid breath and watched the men who were sitting entirely too still to be comfortable.
This was the last place he wanted to be and didn’t quite understand why he couldn’t meet with the ministry at a later time. Right now the only thought crossing his mind was running home to his wife and son, holding them, squeezing them, and kissing them.
“Please, can’t we do this another time, I just want to get home to my family,” Harry said weakly.
There was a hush over the room that made him feel slightly uncomfortable and he could sense something was uneasy about the moment. He searched the room for a pair of eyes to meet his own, but no one dared look at him. There was a gentle cough from the left side of the table and Harry darted his attention in its direction.
“Um, Harry…” a dark man with long, sleek, black hair said as he cleared his throat, “there’s something about that…”
Harry watched carefully, wondering what was going on. Even Remus was looking away.
“Yes, well, about that,” a second man bumbled from the opposite end, “we have come to the mutual…the…well, that…I mean, well…what is to be said is that…” however he, too, cleared his throat and looked away quickly, unable to articulate a conclusion.
Harry’s eyes wandered even faster around this time, desperate for contact.
“It’s to be said,” Jacob Phish finally interrupted, giving a rather stern glare towards the other men around the table, “that we can not let you do that.”
Harry stared incredulously, squinting in confusion.
“What are you talking about?” He asked calmly.
Jacob waited for a moment, shuffled a few papers on the table and then caught Harry’s eyes once more.
“We can’t let you go to your family, Harry. You can’t see Ginny or James.”
“What do you mean I can’t see them?” Harry asked again as he felt his heart begin to pulse and the confusion swell through his arms and gut.
There was a mutual sigh across the table with this question and Harry noticed Jacob give a menacing glance to Remus that could only mean something was being left unsaid. He watched the visual exchange for a moment, waiting for either of the men to speak up, but finally took the opportunity himself.
“Remus, what’s going on?” He asked suspiciously.
Remus looked at the four well-dressed men then down to his feet and Harry’s heart leapt into his throat. Something was terribly wrong.
“Remus?” He asked again, the tone in his voice more commanding this time.
“Oh, Harry…” Remus finally said quietly. He looked utterly ashamed.
Harry’s hands were starting to roll together and his tongue was starting to dry up like a leaf. Why wouldn’t anyone talk? What was so wrong?
“Oh, Merlin, what has happened to them?” Harry finally gasped, fearing something awful had happened to his wife and child. “Please, please, don’t tell me that the Death Eaters have gotten to them…oh no, no…please, please, Remus…”
The room was quiet still and Harry knew he was headed in the right direction.
“Someone, please tell me what is going on!” He cried out, shaking with fear.
“Harry, Ginny and James are fine,” Remus blurted exasperated.
Harry’s face flushed with anger and demanded answers.
“Well then what the hell is going on? Why are you acting so strange?! Somebody say something!”
There was more cowardly shuffling of paper from the men around the table and Harry looked back to Remus for the answers to his questions. He’d never known his friend to be so shy and timid when it came to the truth and it made him fit with a sense of loss and confusion like he’d not remembered in some time.
“It’s not Ginny and James, Harry,” Remus began as he shifted uneasily in his chair, “they are not the ones who have been hurt…”
Harry sighed at the ramble. He was tired of dramatic prose; all he wanted were the facts.
“Just spit out already!” He demanded.
Remus gathered courage from the tension and sat a bit straighter in his chair.
“You were tortured and nearly killed, Harry…” the room was tight with silence, “and we just barely got you to Mungo’s…” he took in a deep breath.
“On with it, Remus!” Harry spout again.
“Harry, the world thinks you’re dead.”
There was a hush as Harry watched Remus pull his eyes away yet again and sent them towards his knees. There must be some sort of perverted joke being played on him, he thought, but this wasn’t funny.
He remembered a scenario rather similar to this in his past, having to hide Ginny to protect their child, and didn’t believe it was possible for something as far-fetched to happen more than once. He understood it the first time, being part of the cause, but this…this was out of nowhere, and he certainly didn’t think it a good idea now.
“What exactly does that mean?” Harry asked quietly.
Remus threw his hands up and slouched forward where his palms came to rest on his face, propped up by his elbows to his knees.
“It means,” he spilled, “that no one except those of us in this room right now know that you are, well, sitting in this room and not lying breathless and limp in a grave somewhere!”
Harry gritted his teeth at the remark, which was seemingly aggressive for the question, and asked again,
“Why do people think I should be lying in a grave, Remus?”
Remus shut his eyes and let out a sigh.
“Somehow information became tangled and confused and it was released to the entire wizarding world that you had died.” Remus grimaced at his own words and sighed again. “It would have been countered immediately, but we didn’t know if you were going to live or not…we really didn’t think you would for the first week, there…and the news of the Death Eater strike would have sent communities into chaos all over again…it just didn’t seem necessary at the time…”
“Didn’t seem necessary?” Harry scoffed, a thousand thoughts bursting through his mind without enough time to express them all. “Right, because convenience is at the top of the priority checklist!”
“That is not what I said, Harry,” Remus responded quickly.
Harry began running the scenario through his mind when suddenly everything made sense…the silence, the hesitations…He ran his fingers through his hair and looked down.
“So that means…”
“Yes, Harry, it means that Ginny and James heard the news as well.” Remus added finishing the thought.
Harry took hold of the hair in his hand and gripped it tightly. His heart was beginning to drop heavier and heavier…
“Didn’t she come to you?” He asked skeptically.
“She doesn’t know where I am, what I’ve done, if I’m injured myself…I’ve stayed low until all of this gets sorted out.” Remus replied.
“Well what about everyone else? Ginny would never believe this sort of thing unless it came from someone she trusted, someone she knew wouldn’t lie about it…someone who would actually know.” Harry tried to sort out every angle hoping to find a hole somewhere in this sick plot.
“Harry, there were only a few survivors of the battle with Voldemort, and only three of us were with you when you were attacked, one of those unconscious.”
Suddenly Harry recalled Ron; he hadn’t even asked about the state of his best mate with the rush of the past few hours. His heart dropped at the image of body he’d held, slashed and bleeding, slipping out of consciousness. He was too scared to ask the question burning on his mind, but something within him gave his body peace and he believed Ron was okay.
“Ron-unconscious, but alive?” he said, posed as, but not really a question at all.
Remus nodded in agreement and Harry let out a pent-up breath.
“And who else?” Harry asked quietly.
“George.”
“Ah, yes, the young man that aided you, I presume?” Phish asked Remus in a very condescending tone, leaping back into the conversation in a very startling manner. Harry had nearly forgotten he was there.
Remus responded with only a grunt and met Harry straight in the eyes.
“Harry, we pulled you out of the hospital before Ron could wake to know what had happened. He has been left in the same confused mind as everyone else, wondering where we are, what has happened to us. Even George is in the dark.”
“Well if George helped you bring me to the hospital wouldn’t he know that something is up if I’m not there anymore? And he obviously knows that you are alive.” Harry was desperate.
“The healers have been told that they are to say only one thing - that the ministry is taking care of your body.”
Harry’s jaw dropped silently for a moment.
“Well of course they’re going to think I’m dead when you say something like that!” He cried.
Remus shook his head. “You might think, but our team should know better, Harry, although I’m certain they are still a bit confused. It’s a sort of code, almost, between the lot of us. They should know.”
“Then Ginny should know, too, right?” Harry’s eyes were wild now with frustration.
“Well…no, Harry, I’m afraid not. This was something just between the few of us, and those few know better than to discuss it amongst themselves, let alone with anyone else. You never know who might hear.”
Every word that was spoken seemed to ooze like slime through Harry’s veins and the air became more and more dense. He began to fight for a different explanation, questioning Remus for a few minutes more until he threw up the battle, exasperated and asked,
“I don’t understand why we can’t just tell everyone the truth now!”
Jacob Phish stepped into the conversation again.
“Well, that is where our problem lies, Harry,” he said in a very businessy manner, “it’s not such a simple matter.”
“Well why not?” Harry gritted through his teeth.
Jacob sighed and turned to Remus.
“You would think after all this time he would have picked up on the ropes of this sort of situation and wouldn’t ask such obvious questions.”
Remus sneered and Harry didn’t know whether to be insulted or guilty of the truth.
“Well, regardless, if he doesn’t know, he should be told. Should I or would you like to? After all, you are his loyal friend…”
Remus refused to acknowledge Phish this time.
“Yes, well,” Jacob continued at the obvious ignore, “I suppose I will do the honors then.”
He tapped his fingers on the table echoing a dreadful scratch through the stuffy room and Harry stared him down.
“Harry, the ministry was unaware of Voldemort’s death until you showed up in the hospital.” He gave Remus another nasty look. “We had been kept in the dark for most of your little exploits, apparently.”
This time he gave Harry the stern look and Harry had the strange feeling he wasn’t talking about fighting Death Eaters anymore.
Slightly angered at the implications, whatever they may be, as well as the obvious battle between the two men of power, Harry threw his shoulders towards the table and held his hands in fists on the arms of the chair.
“Look, I just want to know what’s going on here! I don’t care about your little…spat, if that’s what it is, between the lot of you!” Harry made sure to look at all the men, including Remus. “I have a right to know what’s going on - your every thought - and you have a responsibility to explain it to me,” he said, fighting desperately to restrain.
Jacob let out a tiny sniff.
“Hm, yes, I suppose,” he snarled, filled with bitterness towards something Harry was beginning to guess at, but not entirely clear about. He took in a deep breath and continued.
“Well, we are still investigating the leak, but,” he paused, “somehow rumors began to fly all over the wizarding world that Voldemort had in fact been murdered. Mind you, rumors are currently all monitored through the ministry should something of particular interest or need come up in these times, which would, of course, then come to my attention. Now, we are used to false and nonsensical gossip, especially Voldemort-related ones with all the chaos these days, and would have otherwise paid it very little attention, however, this one seemed to float above the rest, stood out in a strange way, really.
“Then, only moments later, it came in through the line that two young men had been admitted, unconscious, to the Privacy Ward at St. Mungos and I must say it aroused our curiousity.
“I had Mr. Barry here head to the hospital to try and check around, sort out details, you know. Very few are admitted to the Privacy Ward, you see, only those with the most necessary privacy needs, naturally, since the ward is unknown to even those who work in the hospital, well, besides of course the seven healers that run it.
Unfortunately Mr. Barry returned to tell me that he was not allowed admittance, which is rare since I had personally sent a letter explaining the situation. However, with my well-managed negotiating skills, I was able to contact the head healer who confirmed that two men had in fact been admitted and that they certainly did have something to do with Voldemort. She suggested I come myself to discuss the situation.”
Jacob paused to conjure a glass of water with his wand and asked if anyone cared for their own. Harry shook his head quickly, and noticed that besides the wind against the panes, the small room was otherwise hushed with only himself breathing aloud.
He stared as Jacob sipped on the liquid, wondering how much he believed, what was possibly exaggerated, filtering the blathering nonsense with the important facts.
“I wasn’t concerned until I heard her tell me this,” Phish continued. Harry thought he must like the sound of his own story because much of this was entirely unimportant to anyone else. “I left immediately, wondering if it could possibly be true this time - that Voldemort could have really fallen, although I found it difficult because the Order had said nothing to us about any recent missions or developments.”
Harry felt a light pop inside his mind as he began to understand the mean looks Jacob was sending Remus. The Order had kept the ministry in the dark, leaving them just as confused and surprised as everyone else at the shocking news…never a pleasant thing in politics.
“You can imagine my surprise and horror when I saw the great Harry Potter lying unconscious in a hospital bed, his friend and fellow Order member, Ron Weasley next to him, both clinging to life, barely breathing, ghostly without color in their skin, and hardly recognizable for blood and wounds.
I asked the Healer what had happened and she knew hardly more than anyone else, just said that two men, one older, one younger, looking frazzled and desperate, arrived knowing the password to enter the ward, each carrying a lifeless young man on their back. The older man told her who the victims were and said it was of utmost importance that no one else be made aware of their state or whereabouts. Then he left, saying only that he would return in a few days.”
Harry looked at Jacob with slightly more sincerity. The million questions swirling about his head were replaced with a desire to hear the rest of the story. Something was intriguing now, less tedious and painful.
“I myself had a thousand questions now and was frustrated that something had obviously gone very wrong without anyone alerting me to it. The Mother Healer told me there were only two other healers who knew about the new patients and I asked that none of the other healers be made aware, reaffirming what the man had already told her. I really had no idea of what was going on just yet, and didn’t think it was a good idea anyone else should either.
Naturally I knew there were few options to the identity of the older man she described and rushed to the office to contact the Order. To my convenience, however, when I arrived your friend, Remus, was kindly waiting to tell tale of things much grander than I had anticipated. He confirmed that Voldemort had definitely been killed, relayed the inspired tale of your kidnapping and rescue and depressed me with the large crowd of new Death Eaters trying to stay their master’s plan.
He told me that the war was entirely not over, that there were many more dark witches and wizards left to fight than we had imagined and hoped the ministry would come to his aid to help complete the task. This is when the rumor mill began to spin again and rushing into my office was word that Harry Potter had died in battle with the Dark Lord. Someone within the ministry had offered an official statement of your death to the public. Well, of course, that was not what had actually happened, although Remus and I were the only ones to know it.
Remus demanded that we rectify the situation immediately; that you were obviously not dead and the world should not be given the dissatisfaction of thinking so.
I wasn’t so certain, however, because you were barely holding on to life as it were, and I could only think of one scenario, one which I was rather certain would become hostile should we retract the information.”
Harry was slouched deep in his seat, every emotion crashing against each other to make him feel numb more than anything else. He couldn’t speak, only listen to the tale, for beyond the fact that he wanted to understand the particularly bold statement that he was not able to see his wife and son, he wanted to understand these men.
Remus chimed in at this point, sensing Harry’s lifeless reaction.
“I, reluctantly, “ he emphasized this point, “had to agree with Jacob on this one, Harry. I hate to be cornered in situations like this, but I had to think of the future of the world as we know it, and that last thing we needed was another irrational explosion from witches and wizards across the world assuming that since we had lied about Harry Potter’s death, we could be lying about Voldemort’s death as well. Mistake or not, if one statement was false, the other one would become so as well.”
Harry felt his heart cramping inside as he mulled over the scenario in his mind. He remembered Ginny’s desperation when she had to tell her family that she had died. Was that all a precursor to this moment? Was it all a preparation for something this great?
He battered the ideas back and forth through his mind, trying to grasp the weight of it all. Was it true that chaos would really break out? Was it really so dire? He inched upwards and spoke aloud, although meaning it only to himself.
“This isn’t making sense,” Harry said letting the air expel heartily.
“Of course it doesn’t,” Phish replied, “because it’s absolutely ridiculous. It’s rubbish, nonsense, pointless, all of it!”
All the men looked up at Phish this time, watching his mouth move, wondering what he was getting at.
“Look Harry,” he said as he leaned forward onto the table, “there would have been riots and chaos all over again “ our world is still so unstable yet. Peace is just barely, finally beginning to be restored and, well, I’ll be honest, we didn’t know that you would live anyway. No sense destroying the entire field for a single blade of grass, right?”
Phish was cold and smooth, obviously practiced in covering his own tail, a trait that was familiar of wizards with particularly unpleasant dispositions, such as those who converted to the Dark Side when Voldemort was in power.
“This still doesn’t explain to me why I can’t tell Ginny now.” Harry mumbled.
Phish was obviously irritated at Harry’s indignance and raised an eyebrow in disgust.
“You are persistent, aren’t you?”
Harry gave him a stern, angry glare and replied, “No, I just spent the last six years of my life chasing chickens.”
Remus let out an audible laugh, which he quickly stifled, and Harry smirked in his direction. Phish, however, was furious and quick to send Harry’s hopes to their grave.
“Well,” he said with obvious malice, “Remus has committed to me that he will not rest until the Death Eaters are taken care of and completely without power-”
“And that means I have to go along,” Harry added, sensing the quick bite at his previous snide remark.
Remus looked up at Harry for the first time in what felt like hours and nodded dimly. Although it felt as if Phish was just trying to tear Harry apart of sheer spite, he knew that he and Remus did need each other to do this. Harry had killed Voldemort as the prophecy had promised needed to be done, however this situation had not been anticipated, this uproar of minions, and the faster it could be finished, the faster Harry could have a normal life.
But Ginny was harmless, she wouldn’t tell anyone. And she would need to know, she would need to protect herself. Harry was adamant.
“Can’t I just talk to her? Who is she going to tell? She can help!”
“It is too risky, Harry, if you show up anywhere that is not specifically ordained by the ministry, who knows who will spot you! The world will start talking all over again and the very thing we’re trying to prevent would start up on its own accord!”
“Then ordain a place for the two of us to meet!” He yelled at the pompous man. “She is not just a random witch, she is my wife!”
“So I’ve been informed,” Phish said coolly, letting his eyes move slowly up to Harry’s.
Chills filled the shaggy-haired wizard to his fingertips. Who was this Phish guy anyway?
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Harry took in a deep breath and waited for a moment, letting Ginny accept this much. He studied her face trying to figure out what she was thinking, but as years of covering her emotions had trained her well, she seemed stone with no reaction at all.
His heart was starting to beat so loud he was certain she would be able to hear it. His nerves were shaking and rolling about inside his arms and chest as if they had exploded and he wanted nothing more than to hear her voice comfort him.
“How long were you kidnapped for?” She asked quietly.
“Not that long, a few days, really, perhaps a week, I didn’t really track the time.” He offered.
She nodded as if adding the information together in her mind.
“And then the hospital and to the Minister’s?”
Harry responded with a silent nod this time.
“All right,” she said with a deep, independent strength.
Harry took in a thoughtful breath, feeling peace begin to cover him with the hope that Ginny might actually take him back. He was about to smile when her mouth opened and more words bombarded his heart, beating the peace away again.
“You are excused for that lot of time, but otherwise you’ve abandoned me still. There are a lot of years to account for, you know.”
“I know…a lot of time. It’s just…so hard to try and tell you everything, to try and remember every moment that’s lead me here…”
“I don’t want you to romance me with sorrow and poetry, Harry,” Ginny responded sharply, “I want to understand why my life has been a lie for the past eight years.”
“It’s not been a lie, Gin” Harry chimed, but she would have none of it.
“Not a lie? Not a lie! I’ve spent all this time believing and thinking that we were all alone, that it was just James and I. I hoped and dreamed that I would wake from this nightmare to find you sleeping sound next to me, this war over, but everyday was the same as before. The bed empty besides my own pale corpse, and then…when I’m finally ready to accept that you are dead, when the day finally comes to move on…this happens?”
Harry gripped his fists softly, hating his life more and more by the minute. His heart was dripping with pain thinking he would never even be given the chance to tell the rest his story and it was all he wanted…just to talk on for days, telling Ginny everything, letting her become part of his life once more.
“I didn’t want you to accept it, Gin,” he said strongly, but quietly.
“What?” She responded as sharply as before.
“I’m not dead…I didn’t want you to accept that I was.”
There was something eerily calm that seemed to creep over her and it made Harry squirm amongst the couch’s battered cushions. Something was sheltered about her reaction, and he knew it was never good to be so rigid.
“Right,” she responded alienly. Was that all she could say?
What a stupid way to respond, she thought.
Harry didn’t dare move an inch, worrying she might break if he did. He just stared at her, watched her eyes trail down the side of the couch to the floorboards and around, and waited. This was so awkward, so difficult. It felt absolutely forced; everything was just so complicated and agonizing.
“Tell me then, stop pausing and waiting. Here’s your big chance to come clean!” Ginny was frightening with anger behind her eyes.
Harry watched her and wondered where to go next. What part of the story would be the best to tell now? At his lingering silence Ginny felt as if she would explode and the anger began to pour forward from her eyes.
“So what have you been doing with yourself? Having a jolly old time there? Perhaps learning how to cook or sew by the fireplace, eh?” The sarcasm was anything but subtle and Ginny was tight with command.
Harry didn’t know what to say. His chest sunk inwards while his hands clasped tightly to his pockets, desperate to find a hiding place.
“I really do have more to tell you…it’s not my intention to leave you in the dark…I’m trying to sort it out myself, just how to tell you best.”
Ginny shook her head quickly and Harry’s heart sank. She wasn’t going to let him finish…she wasn’t going to take him back.
There was a desperate silence and Ginny felt a wave of demand emerge within her. She couldn’t do this…it was too much…it was too little too late. Whatever he had to say, it didn’t matter now.
She stood to her feet, Harry following immediately behind her.
“What are you doing?” He shot out as she began to step away.
“I suggest that you do not follow me anymore. I can’t…I just…I don’t know what to think anymore. Harry, I…I…” words failed her and let her eyes respond instead.
“Gin, please-“ He tried, but she held up a hand to silence him and turned around, leaving a helpless and devastated man in her wake.
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A/N: Ah!!!! Not my best writing, I know! And it moves sortof quickly, but there's so much to explain, so little space to do it in! There is even more coming in the next couple chapters to try and really sort out the details of it all. Hopefully this is beginning to let you see things, however! Please, please review!!!