[Fic] Blink (1/10)
Title: Blink
Recipient/Trope: Bodyswap for
gatewaygirl
Username:lordes
Betas:
lordhellebore, amorette
Pairings: Harry/Draco. Mentions of: Harry/Ginny, Ron/Hermione, Draco/Astoria, Draco/Blaise, Ginny/Oliver.
Characters: Harry, Draco, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, George, Arthur, Molly, Kingsley, Hawkes Hawlish, Auror Williamson, Lucius Malfoy, Narcissa Malfoy, Voldemort, Bellatrix, Nott, Avery, Gawain Robarts, original characters. Mentions of: Luna, Umbridge, Blaise, Oliver, Astoria.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Rating: R
Warnings: Suggestive M/M relationship, original characters, unexplainable magic, hurt.
Word Count: 46 000
This Chapter: 4622
Summary: When Harry is approached for a favour by Draco Malfoy at the Ministry of Magic, only in his wildest dreams can he imagine what will await him in the morning to come; and when a mysterious man in a top hat appears, Harry fears he might be losing his mind. With his friends by his side and a very troubled Minister, Harry is desperate to find a solution for his blond problem as fast as he can - only that might prove more difficult than he initially expects. As he slowly gets immersed in a life so unlike his own, Harry comes to realise not everything is as black and white as he thought it was, and that the bad guy might not be the bad guy after all.
Author’S Notes: Originally written for the HD TROPES Fic Exchange, 2014
BLINK ON AO3
*
’Now, Harry you must know all about Muggles, tell me, what exactly is the function of a rubber duck?’ - Arthur Weasley (CoS - Movie)
‘Don't blink. Don't even blink. Blink and you're dead. They are fast. Faster than you can believe. Don't turn your back, don't look away, and don’t blink.’ - The Doctor
- CHAPTER 1 -
Mysteries and Top Hats
Harry Potter was walking steadily through the crowded Atrium of the Ministry of Magic, and he was not going to turn around. There were people bumping into him, staring at him and sometimes even pointing at him. As that was nothing he hadn’t got used to by now, he was able to ignore these people. The voice calling out his name at the moment, though, he could not ignore.
'Potter!' it repeated, and however much Harry wanted to pretend he wasn’t hearing it, he couldn’t. The was no chance he hadn’t heard it by now, nor the hasty and pertinent footsteps that just wouldn’t cease following him.
'What?!' Harry said finally, annoyed. He turned around to face the owner of the voice. 'What do you want, Malfoy?'
Draco Malfoy was standing right in front of Harry, all huge eyes and out of breath, his hair slightly sticking to the newly formed drops of sweat on his forehead.
'You can’t… you can’t do this,' Malfoy breathed, clutching his side.
Harry sighed once, deeply. 'I don’t have time for this,' he said and turned around to walk away, only to be stopped dead in his tracks by the words of a boy whom he might’ve hated more than Voldemort himself at one point in his life, yet whom he - time and time again - just couldn’t resist trying to help.
'She saved your life, Potter.'
Harry sighed again in irritation, pinching the bridge of his nose between index finger and thumb. He didn’t move though, not yet. The problem was, this didn’t sound like the boy he had hated so much, nor like the spoiled little ferret he had always thought Malfoy to be. This was a boy - a man - who was pleading. However, he was pleading for people who might be his parents, but who had done nothing but create and spread ruin and despair through the whole of the wizarding world for decades.
'She saved your life,' Malfoy repeated, calmer and softer this time, 'and this is how you’re going to repay her?'
Harry turned back to face him, still annoyed and now also slightly despairing. Why couldn’t he walk through the Ministry once without being accosted by one person or another?!
'She might’ve saved my life,' he answered, scowling, 'but she was and still is a Death Eater, just like your father. And I’m not planning on letting any of them, former or no, run free any longer.'
Malfoy’s eyes went wide, and for a moment Harry was certain he was about to start crying.
'Please.'
The word took Harry by surprise. He wasn’t sure if he had ever heard Malfoy utter anything like it, not even to a teacher.
'Don’t do this. Don’t take away the last thing I have left.' His voice sounded oddly broken. 'I know I’ve made mistakes Potter. I know. I did. But please don’t punish them for what I’ve done. I only did it to save their lives...'
'What you don’t seem to be getting, though,' Harry persisted, 'is that your parents made some serious mistakes all by themselves; they didn’t need your help for that.' A small cough made him turn to his left, and for the first time since their conversation had started, he looked around. They were starting to attract attention. People were looking at them, exchanging urgent whispers as they walked past or simply stopped to stare. One woman clad in a set of chestnut coloured robes - and the probable source of the cough - had even been so bold as to take out a notepad and quill. Harry wondered if she was a reporter or merely an overly curious bystander who thought she could earn some quick Galleons with a new and flashy story about what the ‘Saviour of the wizarding world’ was up to now.
Malfoy, in the meantime, had one of his hands roughly tangled in his hair and was biting his lip hard as if to suppress either a scream or some very nasty words.
'Right,' Harry continued uncomfortably, now very aware of the eyes and ears that were on them. 'If that’s all…'
Once more he tried to turn around and continue his way up to the Minister’s office. This time, however, it wasn’t Draco Malfoy’s words that stopped him.
'Let go of my arm, Malfoy.'
Harry glared and tried to pull free from Malfoy’s grasp. 'Get it back together,' Harry nearly hissed, 'and let. go. of. my. arm.'
'Just don’t leave.' Malfoy sounded desperate now.
Harry pulled him closer in an attempt to keep the conversation at least somewhat private, not really caring if it was working or not. He was tired and all he really wanted to do right now was go home. People already stared at him too much for his liking without Malfoy’s behavior to add to that, and it was starting to get on his nerves.
'Look, I don’t know what your problem is, but I have no time nor energy to waste on this, so I’d really appreciate it if you just let me go and finish my business here.'
'My problem?' Malfoy angrily whispered back at him. 'You know what the Dark Lord was like -' Harry huffed loudly at the fact that Malfoy still wouldn’t use Voldemort’s name, making Draco pause briefly. 'Even if my parents had tried to leave the moment they realised what kind of a madman... He was, they’d have ended up dead. All of us would have. And as far as I’m concerned, trying to stay alive during a war is not a crime.'
Harry’s nostrils flared at this. 'Just trying to stay alive? Your father was a man who craved nothing but power, corrupting and threatening everybody who had anything of worth to him. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten.'
'Then charge him with that,' Malfoy answered, 'not for the murderer he is not.'
Harry shook his head, taking a definite step back, roughly pulling his arm free from the tight grasp. 'I’m sorry, Draco, but I can’t help you.'
'You know,' Draco said, looking rather forlorn in the middle of the huge Atrium, 'it’s not my fault you don’t know what it’s like to have a real family.'
Harry blinked, ready to step back towards Malfoy and punch him hard on the nose. Malfoy however, looked as if he’d turned into stone. Harry tried to turn his head to look around, but he felt as if he had fallen into a pool of very thick goo. His vision was clear, but everything seemed to appear… slower. Not only that, but not a mere ten feet away stood a gentleman, casually leaning against one of the huge pillars supporting the high ceiling of the Ministry’s entrance hall. He was wearing a big top hat, tipped so the shadow of it was covering his eyes and most of his face. A wicked grin showed underneath a somewhat slender but crooked nose. The man was tall, thin and pale. A black ponytail appeared to come out from under the hat, tied together by a single purple ribbon. Over all of this he was wearing an even darker purple overcoat and high purple trousers with a white shirt neatly tucked into them. Underneath these trousers were pointy shoes that shone so bright Harry wondered how much time it had taken the man to get them polished like that.
Harry couldn’t seem to take his eyes off the man, who slowly grabbed the rim of the hat, lifted it up, and gave Harry a single wink.
By the time Harry blinked, he man was gone, and everything seemed to be back at the same speed it had been at before. More curious even, nobody else seemed to have noticed anything out of the ordinary.
Harry blinked a couple more times, shaking his head and rubbing his eyes. The pillar the man had been leaning against was still there, but the only thing around it were the people rushing past it in a hurry. Had he been dreaming? Who had that man been?
'Potter? Potter!... Harry!'
Harry turned back towards him. The desperate look in Malfoy’s eyes had been replaced by a somewhat worried one, and from the tone of his voice Harry could only assume that he’d been out of the conversation for a while.
As he was about to ask Malfoy what he had said, however, he got hit by a wave of pure nausea and an unexplainable amount of nerves rushing through his body, making him feel vertigo and sweaty.
'I’m sorry,' he mumbled, and before Draco had had a chance to reply, he turned a final time and hastily walked away.
*
When Harry entered the new Minister’s office a couple of minutes later, the man in question shot up out of his chair the moment his eyes met Harry’s.
'Harry! You look like you’ve seen a Dementor, what’s wrong?' the deep voice said. Halfway through rounding the desk he had been sitting behind, Harry put up his hand in order to stop him.
'It’s fine, Kingsley,' Harry said, trying to swallow back the bile. 'I’m... fine.'
The Minister let out a soft sigh and raised a single eyebrow at him. 'If you’re sure…'
Harry gave him a small smile and sat down in one of the comfortable chairs facing the desk. The Minister’s office was bright, the large enchanted window on the far wall showing nothing but sunshine and blue sky. He took a deep breath. The man with the top hat would be something to investigate later, not something he was going to be worrying about now. 'Yes, I’m sure.'
Kingsley gave him one more stern look before sitting back down.
'Very well,' he said before picking up a stack of papers and tapping them twice hard on his desk to straighten the pile; then he laid it back down and handed the topmost file to Harry. 'As you can see the Malfoy case has been moved forward a few weeks, among several other cases per request of the Wizengamot.'
Harry nodded, immediately reminded of the rather unwanted conversation he had just had with Draco Malfoy.
Kingsley picked up his quill and quickly scribbled something on the identical file in front of him. 'The Aurors present during the investigation, interrogation and arrest of these…' Kingsley seemed to be struggling with the word, 'people,' he continued, 'are required to be present at the trial.'
Harry nodded again. It was nothing he didn’t know, so the information didn’t surprise him. Aurors were often called in as witnesses during trials, especially important ones like these.
'What are the prospects?' Harry asked, still studying the file intently. There were several familiar names on it Harry couldn’t wait to see safely locked up behind Azkaban bars. Some of them he’d personally made sure would probably never see the outside wizarding world again.
'Life sentence, probably,' Kingsley answered. 'With what they’re charged with, they’re lucky we no longer employ any Dementors.'
Harry nodded approvingly. No matter how much he was against the vile creatures or the punishment they brought, he sometimes wished - just for those rare few - that they were still around to do what they did best.
However, as he thought of them - their rotting breath and long black hoods underneath which that gaping hole was hidden - another wave of nausea hit him. He had to cover his mouth with both hands, letting the file drop onto the ground, and leaned forward - head first - in between his knees.
When he got his nausea under control, he carefully let go of his mouth one hand at a time and picked up the file from where it had fallen onto the ground. 'If you don’t mind,' Harry said, holding it up while slowly getting up himself, 'I’ll look these over at home.' He gave the small stack of papers a quick wave.
Kingsley merely nodded, once more straightening his own stack. 'As it so happens, I’ve had quite a long day myself,' he said, smiling. 'Go take some time for yourself, and I’ll see you in the morning.'
*
When Harry exited the Ministry of Magic, not having run into any more blonds on his way out, he took a deep breath. He scrunched his eyes closed as hard as he could and just stood there for a while, file still in one hand, listening to the bustling sounds of London around him. He felt much better already and therefore he decided that he’d pay a visit to Ron and Hermione, who he knew were currently having an after-work drink at the Leaky Cauldron.
'Heya, Harry!,' he heard the moment he entered the dimly lit pub. As he looked around, he saw Ron and Hermione in one of the few booths the Leaky Cauldron provided, both with half-full glasses in front of them. Ron was happily waving him over.
'Had a few, then?' Harry said, grinning widely. Ron had that typical ‘after-work’ smile on his face, and Hermione’s cheeks were already tinted with a soft pink.
'Mate,' Ron said as he sloppily swung his arm around Harry’s shoulders, 'you don’t even know.'
Harry felt better already. All the stress of the day, including the odd conversation with Malfoy and the weird waves of nausea, disappeared like Dementors in the face of a Patronus.
'It’s not so bad,' Hermione chimed in. She picked up her glass and took another sip of the amber-coloured liquid. 'Anyway,' she continued, 'I’ve got some rather exciting news!'
But before Hermione could start telling Harry what the exciting news was, Ron had already jumped in and had started telling his own story.
'Did you know,' he said as he patted Harry on the arm twice, his own still around Harry’s shoulders. Hermione raised a single eyebrow at Ron, who didn’t seem to notice, then gave a soft giggle into her glass before shaking her head. Harry grinned at his two best friends. He’d missed this. With him and Ron being Aurors now, and Hermione working part-time in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures and taking part-time classes at Hogwarts, moments like these were rare.
'... just kept running too, as if he actually thought he would be able to escape six fully trained Aurors!'
'Who are we talking about?' Harry asked. He had realised this wasn’t one of the same couple of stories Ron seemed to repeat full-heartedly whenever he’d had too much to drink, but a new one.
Ron waved his hand dismissively. 'Someone called Pingwiggulus or something,' he said. 'I don’t really remember. Point is, though,' he pointed his finger at Hermione, so as to emphasise this fact, 'that we caught him.'
'What did he do, then?' Harry asked as he waved Tom over.
'Mister Potter,' the elderly man said as he reached the table, 'what can I get for you today?' But before Harry could answer him, Tom had already continued speaking. 'You know, we were just talking about you.' His voice turned softer, and Harry had to strain his ears to be able to understand him above all of the cheerful laughing and conversations around them. 'And about them caught Death Eaters.' His eyes twinkled hopefully.
Harry sighed. If there was one thing he disliked about his position as an Auror at all, it would have to be this. 'Tom,' he started, searching for the right words. However, Hermione seemed to have found them faster.
'We can’t discuss Ministry matters outside of work, Tom, we’re sorry.' She smiled kindly at him.
Tom’s face seemed to turn into stone, and for a moment Harry thought he’d be seeing the strange man with the top hat appear again at any moment. Time didn’t slow down this time though, nor did Tom. He took out his notepad and small quill and said, 'The usual, then?' before scribbling something down and shuffling away, back towards the bar.
'What’s got into him?' Ron asked, slightly taken aback.
'You can’t really blame him,' Hermione answered. 'It’s only been a few months, after all.' She didn’t need to elaborate on what had been only a few months. They all knew. 'And it’s not like the Daily Prophet is giving them much, either,' she continued, and when she saw Ron open his mouth, quickly added, 'Yes, they give them lists of captured Death Eaters, but what good does that do them? There are still plenty more at large than there are behind bars.'
They all fell into a rather mournful silence. Hermione was right, there were still a lot of Death Eaters out there, and even though most people had resumed their normal lives after Voldemort’s demise, the air of worry and danger still hung over the wizarding world like a thick layer of Dementor mist. Most people still did their shopping in groups, and the shops that were open in Diagon Alley opened late and closed early. Harry sighed and nodded a thank you to Tom when he came back, bringing Harry’s drink. Harry took a large swig from the heavy mug, the meade slowly warming his insides.
'As I was saying, though,' Hermione said, breaking the silence, 'I’ve got news.'
'Right!' Harry said, snapping out of his gloomy train of thought. He sat up a little straighter and looked over at Ron, who seemed to do his best to look everywhere but at Hermione, who didn’t seem to notice or else chose to ignore him.
'Remember the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare?' she asked hopefully. Ron groaned softly behind his glass and Harry quickly bit his tongue. Of course he remembered S.P.E.W. It had been Hermione’s almost full-time obsession during their later Hogwarts years.
'Well,' she continued, ignoring the obvious silence, 'the Department of Regulation and Control for Magical Creatures have been looking over the idea and they agreed it could very well be worthy of investment!'
'They don’t want to be set free, Hermione!' Ron butted in, sounding slightly exhausted.
'Well, maybe they’d at least like to be given the choice, Ronald,' she said coldly and turned back towards Harry. 'And the Department seemed very interested after all.' She raised her chin defiantly as if to dare Harry to disagree with her.
'That’s probably only because they got tired of your constant nagging,' Ron mumbled softly enough for Hermione not to hear. Harry bit his tongue to hold back his laugh.
'Anyway, Hermione,' Harry said finally, 'congratulations. It sounds fantastic!'
For a moment he worried that the enthusiasm in his voice might’ve sounded fake, but when Hermione smiled happily back at him, he pushed that feeling away, too.
She raised her glass. 'To S.P.E.W,' she said with a wink, making Harry grin. This was probably the first time he had heard Hermione use the formerly disliked abbreviation. He raised his own mug and gave Ron a small prod with his elbow, who in his turn also raised his glass. 'To S.P.E.W,' he repeated after Hermione, and for a moment he could swear he saw a small smile play on Ron’s lips.
*
After many hours of catching up, the topic once again returned to the Ministry of Magic and the upcoming trials.
'I forgot to tell you,' Harry said as he put aside another empty mug, 'I ran into Malfoy today. Or rather, he ran into me.'
'What, junior?!' Ron asked, sounding almost surprised. 'What was he doing inside the Ministry?'
'What was he doing out at all, is the question,' Hermione added. 'Wasn’t he supposed to be on Ministry orders to stay inside?' She looked from Harry to Ron and back.
Harry’s jaw dropped slightly - he hadn’t even thought of that - maybe that’s why Malfoy had appeared so scared and sweaty.
'It must’ve been really important to talk to you, then, risking what he did,' she said, more to herself than to them. 'What did he want?'
Harry rubbed his hands over his tired face before answering. 'I think he came asking me to clear his dad, or at least drop part of the charges.'
'You just think?' Ron asked.
'Well, yeah,' Harry said. 'I mean, that’s what he asked, but then something else really weird happened…'
As the Leaky Cauldron slowly emptied around them, Harry told them the story of the man with the top hat. By the time he’d finished, the only people still inside with them were an elderly couple in the corner, a rather large group of very loud men and women at the centre table, and a cloaked individual hastily scribbling on a piece of parchment in the far corner of the room, a smoking mug of unidentifiable liquid next to him.
Hermione hummed softly, obviously deep in thought.
'Maybe,' Ron offered, 'maybe you just imagined the time slowing down. You said you weren’t feeling well.'
'I didn’t start feeling unwell until after,' Harry said and looked expectantly at Hermione, who shook her head.
'Sorry,' she said, 'but I’ve got no idea. No book or scroll I’ve read ever mentioned anything like it. At least as far as I can remember.' She paused. 'And please don’t get angry, Harry, but maybe Ron’s right - you did say you weren’t feeling well…'
'That was after, I already told you!' Harry said, slowly getting annoyed. Why wouldn’t they believe him? It wasn’t as if he was telling them something completely illogical, right?
'You said you didn’t get hit with the nausea until after, that’s true,' she answered carefully, 'but maybe it was already building up?'
'Wait,' Ron interrupted abruptly, looking oddly pale in the yellowish light of the pub. 'You don’t think this is another sign of…' his voice dropped into a whisper, 'of You-Know-Who being back?' He looked at Harry with wide eyes.
'Yeah,' Harry stretched his back, took some Galleons out of his pocket and put them onto the table, getting up. 'You officially had too much to drink.'
'I did not!' Ron said, but he was swaying slightly as he got up himself, and giggled.
Hermione smiled at him before she yawned and stood as well. 'It’s getting late, I should probably get back myself.'
'Are you staying at Hogwarts tonight?' Harry asked as he pulled on his cloak.
Hermione nodded. 'I actually have some morning classes tomorrow. Arithmancy and History of Magic.'
'Sounds brilliant,' Ron said sarcastically, fumbling with his own cloak.
Hermione walked over to the other side of the table to help him out. She pulled one of the cloak’s sleeves back from its inside-out state. 'It’s not that bad. It’s mostly just weird, being in the same year as Luna now.'
'Well, I’m just saying I’m glad I’m working as an Auror now, that’s all,' Ron slurred.
Hermione ignored him, but continued to help him with his cloak before turning towards Harry. 'Where will you be staying tonight?'
He shrugged, not answering the question they both already knew the answer to. Right after the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry had gone back to Grimmauld Place, initially just to stay there for a couple of nights to get his head back together while the wizarding world awoke from its Dark Magic-induced coma. However, instead of leaving the place again to stay at the Burrow - as Mrs Weasley had so often proposed - he’d stayed.
'Oh, Harry, why do you insist on going back to that place?' Hermione asked softly. 'You know you hate it, and the Order doesn’t need it anymore. Just sell it, get yourself a nice flat somewhere in London if that’s where you want to be… Or don’t,' she added as she heard him huff, assuming wrongly that he did so because he was thinking about his funds. 'You have enough gold to last you a lifetime, anyway.'
Ron, now fully dressed and in an attempt to lighten the conversation, added, 'And that’s why he’s paying for the drinks tonight, aren’t you Harry?' He smiled a somewhat lopsided grin, making Harry laugh quietly.
'Well, I really ought to get going,' Hermione said finally. She walked over and gave Harry a tight hug and a peck on the cheek. 'Take care,' she whispered before going back to Ron, whom she also gave a quick kiss, although on a different place. While Ron’s head turned as red as his hair, Hermione made her way over to the fireplace, grabbed some Floo powder, and disappeared into the green flames before Ron had even fully processed what had just happened.
*
When he got home, Harry took another good look around himself. The house really was dreary. He hadn’t bothered doing anything about the now peeling wallpaper, the still stuck and covered portrait of Mrs Black, nor had he bothered to ask Kreacher, who usually kept himself busy enough with the cooking and basic cleaning.
Halfway up the stairs and in a heated battle with his too tightly done tie, he realised how fed up he really was with the day. He was annoyed, and not just a little bit. Annoyed at Malfoy for attracting attention to him again today, annoyed that tomorrow there was bound to be something about it in the Prophet, annoyed that he didn’t understand who that man in the top hat had been, annoyed because he actually let it bug him, and annoyed that Hermione simply wouldn’t give his living at Grimmauld Place a rest. Remembering his reaction at the beginning of his sixth year, when Dumbledore had announced that Grimmauld Place was to be his, he stopped, already halfway up the stairs. He hadn’t wanted the house back then. Hell, he would’ve given anything not to have to return to this place. But now… He sighed and let his back - careful enough not to wake Mrs Black - fall back against the wall. Now it seemed like an almost hurtful reminder of all the people he’d lost; Sirius, Remus and Tonks, Dumbledore, and even Snape’s ghost seemed to reside here.
Giving up on the tie, he took out his wand, pointed it at the blasted thing and, by giving it a quick swish, had the tie severed in his hand within seconds. As he continued his way up, he dropped it and started working on his shirt next. By the time he’d reached the topmost step and had entered his bedroom, the stairs were littered with pieces of clothing.
Still half-dressed, he let himself slump on the bed, falling asleep immediately.
Chapter 2: An Unwelcome Awakening
Recipient/Trope: Bodyswap for
gatewaygirlUsername:
lordesBetas:
amorettePairings: Harry/Draco. Mentions of: Harry/Ginny, Ron/Hermione, Draco/Astoria, Draco/Blaise, Ginny/Oliver.
Characters: Harry, Draco, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, George, Arthur, Molly, Kingsley, Hawkes Hawlish, Auror Williamson, Lucius Malfoy, Narcissa Malfoy, Voldemort, Bellatrix, Nott, Avery, Gawain Robarts, original characters. Mentions of: Luna, Umbridge, Blaise, Oliver, Astoria.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Rating: R
Warnings: Suggestive M/M relationship, original characters, unexplainable magic, hurt.
Word Count: 46 000
This Chapter: 4622
Summary: When Harry is approached for a favour by Draco Malfoy at the Ministry of Magic, only in his wildest dreams can he imagine what will await him in the morning to come; and when a mysterious man in a top hat appears, Harry fears he might be losing his mind. With his friends by his side and a very troubled Minister, Harry is desperate to find a solution for his blond problem as fast as he can - only that might prove more difficult than he initially expects. As he slowly gets immersed in a life so unlike his own, Harry comes to realise not everything is as black and white as he thought it was, and that the bad guy might not be the bad guy after all.
Author’S Notes: Originally written for the HD TROPES Fic Exchange, 2014
BLINK ON AO3
*
’Now, Harry you must know all about Muggles, tell me, what exactly is the function of a rubber duck?’ - Arthur Weasley (CoS - Movie)
‘Don't blink. Don't even blink. Blink and you're dead. They are fast. Faster than you can believe. Don't turn your back, don't look away, and don’t blink.’ - The Doctor
- CHAPTER 1 -
Mysteries and Top Hats
Harry Potter was walking steadily through the crowded Atrium of the Ministry of Magic, and he was not going to turn around. There were people bumping into him, staring at him and sometimes even pointing at him. As that was nothing he hadn’t got used to by now, he was able to ignore these people. The voice calling out his name at the moment, though, he could not ignore.
'Potter!' it repeated, and however much Harry wanted to pretend he wasn’t hearing it, he couldn’t. The was no chance he hadn’t heard it by now, nor the hasty and pertinent footsteps that just wouldn’t cease following him.
'What?!' Harry said finally, annoyed. He turned around to face the owner of the voice. 'What do you want, Malfoy?'
Draco Malfoy was standing right in front of Harry, all huge eyes and out of breath, his hair slightly sticking to the newly formed drops of sweat on his forehead.
'You can’t… you can’t do this,' Malfoy breathed, clutching his side.
Harry sighed once, deeply. 'I don’t have time for this,' he said and turned around to walk away, only to be stopped dead in his tracks by the words of a boy whom he might’ve hated more than Voldemort himself at one point in his life, yet whom he - time and time again - just couldn’t resist trying to help.
'She saved your life, Potter.'
Harry sighed again in irritation, pinching the bridge of his nose between index finger and thumb. He didn’t move though, not yet. The problem was, this didn’t sound like the boy he had hated so much, nor like the spoiled little ferret he had always thought Malfoy to be. This was a boy - a man - who was pleading. However, he was pleading for people who might be his parents, but who had done nothing but create and spread ruin and despair through the whole of the wizarding world for decades.
'She saved your life,' Malfoy repeated, calmer and softer this time, 'and this is how you’re going to repay her?'
Harry turned back to face him, still annoyed and now also slightly despairing. Why couldn’t he walk through the Ministry once without being accosted by one person or another?!
'She might’ve saved my life,' he answered, scowling, 'but she was and still is a Death Eater, just like your father. And I’m not planning on letting any of them, former or no, run free any longer.'
Malfoy’s eyes went wide, and for a moment Harry was certain he was about to start crying.
'Please.'
The word took Harry by surprise. He wasn’t sure if he had ever heard Malfoy utter anything like it, not even to a teacher.
'Don’t do this. Don’t take away the last thing I have left.' His voice sounded oddly broken. 'I know I’ve made mistakes Potter. I know. I did. But please don’t punish them for what I’ve done. I only did it to save their lives...'
'What you don’t seem to be getting, though,' Harry persisted, 'is that your parents made some serious mistakes all by themselves; they didn’t need your help for that.' A small cough made him turn to his left, and for the first time since their conversation had started, he looked around. They were starting to attract attention. People were looking at them, exchanging urgent whispers as they walked past or simply stopped to stare. One woman clad in a set of chestnut coloured robes - and the probable source of the cough - had even been so bold as to take out a notepad and quill. Harry wondered if she was a reporter or merely an overly curious bystander who thought she could earn some quick Galleons with a new and flashy story about what the ‘Saviour of the wizarding world’ was up to now.
Malfoy, in the meantime, had one of his hands roughly tangled in his hair and was biting his lip hard as if to suppress either a scream or some very nasty words.
'Right,' Harry continued uncomfortably, now very aware of the eyes and ears that were on them. 'If that’s all…'
Once more he tried to turn around and continue his way up to the Minister’s office. This time, however, it wasn’t Draco Malfoy’s words that stopped him.
'Let go of my arm, Malfoy.'
Harry glared and tried to pull free from Malfoy’s grasp. 'Get it back together,' Harry nearly hissed, 'and let. go. of. my. arm.'
'Just don’t leave.' Malfoy sounded desperate now.
Harry pulled him closer in an attempt to keep the conversation at least somewhat private, not really caring if it was working or not. He was tired and all he really wanted to do right now was go home. People already stared at him too much for his liking without Malfoy’s behavior to add to that, and it was starting to get on his nerves.
'Look, I don’t know what your problem is, but I have no time nor energy to waste on this, so I’d really appreciate it if you just let me go and finish my business here.'
'My problem?' Malfoy angrily whispered back at him. 'You know what the Dark Lord was like -' Harry huffed loudly at the fact that Malfoy still wouldn’t use Voldemort’s name, making Draco pause briefly. 'Even if my parents had tried to leave the moment they realised what kind of a madman... He was, they’d have ended up dead. All of us would have. And as far as I’m concerned, trying to stay alive during a war is not a crime.'
Harry’s nostrils flared at this. 'Just trying to stay alive? Your father was a man who craved nothing but power, corrupting and threatening everybody who had anything of worth to him. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten.'
'Then charge him with that,' Malfoy answered, 'not for the murderer he is not.'
Harry shook his head, taking a definite step back, roughly pulling his arm free from the tight grasp. 'I’m sorry, Draco, but I can’t help you.'
'You know,' Draco said, looking rather forlorn in the middle of the huge Atrium, 'it’s not my fault you don’t know what it’s like to have a real family.'
Harry blinked, ready to step back towards Malfoy and punch him hard on the nose. Malfoy however, looked as if he’d turned into stone. Harry tried to turn his head to look around, but he felt as if he had fallen into a pool of very thick goo. His vision was clear, but everything seemed to appear… slower. Not only that, but not a mere ten feet away stood a gentleman, casually leaning against one of the huge pillars supporting the high ceiling of the Ministry’s entrance hall. He was wearing a big top hat, tipped so the shadow of it was covering his eyes and most of his face. A wicked grin showed underneath a somewhat slender but crooked nose. The man was tall, thin and pale. A black ponytail appeared to come out from under the hat, tied together by a single purple ribbon. Over all of this he was wearing an even darker purple overcoat and high purple trousers with a white shirt neatly tucked into them. Underneath these trousers were pointy shoes that shone so bright Harry wondered how much time it had taken the man to get them polished like that.
Harry couldn’t seem to take his eyes off the man, who slowly grabbed the rim of the hat, lifted it up, and gave Harry a single wink.
By the time Harry blinked, he man was gone, and everything seemed to be back at the same speed it had been at before. More curious even, nobody else seemed to have noticed anything out of the ordinary.
Harry blinked a couple more times, shaking his head and rubbing his eyes. The pillar the man had been leaning against was still there, but the only thing around it were the people rushing past it in a hurry. Had he been dreaming? Who had that man been?
'Potter? Potter!... Harry!'
Harry turned back towards him. The desperate look in Malfoy’s eyes had been replaced by a somewhat worried one, and from the tone of his voice Harry could only assume that he’d been out of the conversation for a while.
As he was about to ask Malfoy what he had said, however, he got hit by a wave of pure nausea and an unexplainable amount of nerves rushing through his body, making him feel vertigo and sweaty.
'I’m sorry,' he mumbled, and before Draco had had a chance to reply, he turned a final time and hastily walked away.
*
When Harry entered the new Minister’s office a couple of minutes later, the man in question shot up out of his chair the moment his eyes met Harry’s.
'Harry! You look like you’ve seen a Dementor, what’s wrong?' the deep voice said. Halfway through rounding the desk he had been sitting behind, Harry put up his hand in order to stop him.
'It’s fine, Kingsley,' Harry said, trying to swallow back the bile. 'I’m... fine.'
The Minister let out a soft sigh and raised a single eyebrow at him. 'If you’re sure…'
Harry gave him a small smile and sat down in one of the comfortable chairs facing the desk. The Minister’s office was bright, the large enchanted window on the far wall showing nothing but sunshine and blue sky. He took a deep breath. The man with the top hat would be something to investigate later, not something he was going to be worrying about now. 'Yes, I’m sure.'
Kingsley gave him one more stern look before sitting back down.
'Very well,' he said before picking up a stack of papers and tapping them twice hard on his desk to straighten the pile; then he laid it back down and handed the topmost file to Harry. 'As you can see the Malfoy case has been moved forward a few weeks, among several other cases per request of the Wizengamot.'
Harry nodded, immediately reminded of the rather unwanted conversation he had just had with Draco Malfoy.
Kingsley picked up his quill and quickly scribbled something on the identical file in front of him. 'The Aurors present during the investigation, interrogation and arrest of these…' Kingsley seemed to be struggling with the word, 'people,' he continued, 'are required to be present at the trial.'
Harry nodded again. It was nothing he didn’t know, so the information didn’t surprise him. Aurors were often called in as witnesses during trials, especially important ones like these.
'What are the prospects?' Harry asked, still studying the file intently. There were several familiar names on it Harry couldn’t wait to see safely locked up behind Azkaban bars. Some of them he’d personally made sure would probably never see the outside wizarding world again.
'Life sentence, probably,' Kingsley answered. 'With what they’re charged with, they’re lucky we no longer employ any Dementors.'
Harry nodded approvingly. No matter how much he was against the vile creatures or the punishment they brought, he sometimes wished - just for those rare few - that they were still around to do what they did best.
However, as he thought of them - their rotting breath and long black hoods underneath which that gaping hole was hidden - another wave of nausea hit him. He had to cover his mouth with both hands, letting the file drop onto the ground, and leaned forward - head first - in between his knees.
When he got his nausea under control, he carefully let go of his mouth one hand at a time and picked up the file from where it had fallen onto the ground. 'If you don’t mind,' Harry said, holding it up while slowly getting up himself, 'I’ll look these over at home.' He gave the small stack of papers a quick wave.
Kingsley merely nodded, once more straightening his own stack. 'As it so happens, I’ve had quite a long day myself,' he said, smiling. 'Go take some time for yourself, and I’ll see you in the morning.'
*
When Harry exited the Ministry of Magic, not having run into any more blonds on his way out, he took a deep breath. He scrunched his eyes closed as hard as he could and just stood there for a while, file still in one hand, listening to the bustling sounds of London around him. He felt much better already and therefore he decided that he’d pay a visit to Ron and Hermione, who he knew were currently having an after-work drink at the Leaky Cauldron.
'Heya, Harry!,' he heard the moment he entered the dimly lit pub. As he looked around, he saw Ron and Hermione in one of the few booths the Leaky Cauldron provided, both with half-full glasses in front of them. Ron was happily waving him over.
'Had a few, then?' Harry said, grinning widely. Ron had that typical ‘after-work’ smile on his face, and Hermione’s cheeks were already tinted with a soft pink.
'Mate,' Ron said as he sloppily swung his arm around Harry’s shoulders, 'you don’t even know.'
Harry felt better already. All the stress of the day, including the odd conversation with Malfoy and the weird waves of nausea, disappeared like Dementors in the face of a Patronus.
'It’s not so bad,' Hermione chimed in. She picked up her glass and took another sip of the amber-coloured liquid. 'Anyway,' she continued, 'I’ve got some rather exciting news!'
But before Hermione could start telling Harry what the exciting news was, Ron had already jumped in and had started telling his own story.
'Did you know,' he said as he patted Harry on the arm twice, his own still around Harry’s shoulders. Hermione raised a single eyebrow at Ron, who didn’t seem to notice, then gave a soft giggle into her glass before shaking her head. Harry grinned at his two best friends. He’d missed this. With him and Ron being Aurors now, and Hermione working part-time in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures and taking part-time classes at Hogwarts, moments like these were rare.
'... just kept running too, as if he actually thought he would be able to escape six fully trained Aurors!'
'Who are we talking about?' Harry asked. He had realised this wasn’t one of the same couple of stories Ron seemed to repeat full-heartedly whenever he’d had too much to drink, but a new one.
Ron waved his hand dismissively. 'Someone called Pingwiggulus or something,' he said. 'I don’t really remember. Point is, though,' he pointed his finger at Hermione, so as to emphasise this fact, 'that we caught him.'
'What did he do, then?' Harry asked as he waved Tom over.
'Mister Potter,' the elderly man said as he reached the table, 'what can I get for you today?' But before Harry could answer him, Tom had already continued speaking. 'You know, we were just talking about you.' His voice turned softer, and Harry had to strain his ears to be able to understand him above all of the cheerful laughing and conversations around them. 'And about them caught Death Eaters.' His eyes twinkled hopefully.
Harry sighed. If there was one thing he disliked about his position as an Auror at all, it would have to be this. 'Tom,' he started, searching for the right words. However, Hermione seemed to have found them faster.
'We can’t discuss Ministry matters outside of work, Tom, we’re sorry.' She smiled kindly at him.
Tom’s face seemed to turn into stone, and for a moment Harry thought he’d be seeing the strange man with the top hat appear again at any moment. Time didn’t slow down this time though, nor did Tom. He took out his notepad and small quill and said, 'The usual, then?' before scribbling something down and shuffling away, back towards the bar.
'What’s got into him?' Ron asked, slightly taken aback.
'You can’t really blame him,' Hermione answered. 'It’s only been a few months, after all.' She didn’t need to elaborate on what had been only a few months. They all knew. 'And it’s not like the Daily Prophet is giving them much, either,' she continued, and when she saw Ron open his mouth, quickly added, 'Yes, they give them lists of captured Death Eaters, but what good does that do them? There are still plenty more at large than there are behind bars.'
They all fell into a rather mournful silence. Hermione was right, there were still a lot of Death Eaters out there, and even though most people had resumed their normal lives after Voldemort’s demise, the air of worry and danger still hung over the wizarding world like a thick layer of Dementor mist. Most people still did their shopping in groups, and the shops that were open in Diagon Alley opened late and closed early. Harry sighed and nodded a thank you to Tom when he came back, bringing Harry’s drink. Harry took a large swig from the heavy mug, the meade slowly warming his insides.
'As I was saying, though,' Hermione said, breaking the silence, 'I’ve got news.'
'Right!' Harry said, snapping out of his gloomy train of thought. He sat up a little straighter and looked over at Ron, who seemed to do his best to look everywhere but at Hermione, who didn’t seem to notice or else chose to ignore him.
'Remember the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare?' she asked hopefully. Ron groaned softly behind his glass and Harry quickly bit his tongue. Of course he remembered S.P.E.W. It had been Hermione’s almost full-time obsession during their later Hogwarts years.
'Well,' she continued, ignoring the obvious silence, 'the Department of Regulation and Control for Magical Creatures have been looking over the idea and they agreed it could very well be worthy of investment!'
'They don’t want to be set free, Hermione!' Ron butted in, sounding slightly exhausted.
'Well, maybe they’d at least like to be given the choice, Ronald,' she said coldly and turned back towards Harry. 'And the Department seemed very interested after all.' She raised her chin defiantly as if to dare Harry to disagree with her.
'That’s probably only because they got tired of your constant nagging,' Ron mumbled softly enough for Hermione not to hear. Harry bit his tongue to hold back his laugh.
'Anyway, Hermione,' Harry said finally, 'congratulations. It sounds fantastic!'
For a moment he worried that the enthusiasm in his voice might’ve sounded fake, but when Hermione smiled happily back at him, he pushed that feeling away, too.
She raised her glass. 'To S.P.E.W,' she said with a wink, making Harry grin. This was probably the first time he had heard Hermione use the formerly disliked abbreviation. He raised his own mug and gave Ron a small prod with his elbow, who in his turn also raised his glass. 'To S.P.E.W,' he repeated after Hermione, and for a moment he could swear he saw a small smile play on Ron’s lips.
*
After many hours of catching up, the topic once again returned to the Ministry of Magic and the upcoming trials.
'I forgot to tell you,' Harry said as he put aside another empty mug, 'I ran into Malfoy today. Or rather, he ran into me.'
'What, junior?!' Ron asked, sounding almost surprised. 'What was he doing inside the Ministry?'
'What was he doing out at all, is the question,' Hermione added. 'Wasn’t he supposed to be on Ministry orders to stay inside?' She looked from Harry to Ron and back.
Harry’s jaw dropped slightly - he hadn’t even thought of that - maybe that’s why Malfoy had appeared so scared and sweaty.
'It must’ve been really important to talk to you, then, risking what he did,' she said, more to herself than to them. 'What did he want?'
Harry rubbed his hands over his tired face before answering. 'I think he came asking me to clear his dad, or at least drop part of the charges.'
'You just think?' Ron asked.
'Well, yeah,' Harry said. 'I mean, that’s what he asked, but then something else really weird happened…'
As the Leaky Cauldron slowly emptied around them, Harry told them the story of the man with the top hat. By the time he’d finished, the only people still inside with them were an elderly couple in the corner, a rather large group of very loud men and women at the centre table, and a cloaked individual hastily scribbling on a piece of parchment in the far corner of the room, a smoking mug of unidentifiable liquid next to him.
Hermione hummed softly, obviously deep in thought.
'Maybe,' Ron offered, 'maybe you just imagined the time slowing down. You said you weren’t feeling well.'
'I didn’t start feeling unwell until after,' Harry said and looked expectantly at Hermione, who shook her head.
'Sorry,' she said, 'but I’ve got no idea. No book or scroll I’ve read ever mentioned anything like it. At least as far as I can remember.' She paused. 'And please don’t get angry, Harry, but maybe Ron’s right - you did say you weren’t feeling well…'
'That was after, I already told you!' Harry said, slowly getting annoyed. Why wouldn’t they believe him? It wasn’t as if he was telling them something completely illogical, right?
'You said you didn’t get hit with the nausea until after, that’s true,' she answered carefully, 'but maybe it was already building up?'
'Wait,' Ron interrupted abruptly, looking oddly pale in the yellowish light of the pub. 'You don’t think this is another sign of…' his voice dropped into a whisper, 'of You-Know-Who being back?' He looked at Harry with wide eyes.
'Yeah,' Harry stretched his back, took some Galleons out of his pocket and put them onto the table, getting up. 'You officially had too much to drink.'
'I did not!' Ron said, but he was swaying slightly as he got up himself, and giggled.
Hermione smiled at him before she yawned and stood as well. 'It’s getting late, I should probably get back myself.'
'Are you staying at Hogwarts tonight?' Harry asked as he pulled on his cloak.
Hermione nodded. 'I actually have some morning classes tomorrow. Arithmancy and History of Magic.'
'Sounds brilliant,' Ron said sarcastically, fumbling with his own cloak.
Hermione walked over to the other side of the table to help him out. She pulled one of the cloak’s sleeves back from its inside-out state. 'It’s not that bad. It’s mostly just weird, being in the same year as Luna now.'
'Well, I’m just saying I’m glad I’m working as an Auror now, that’s all,' Ron slurred.
Hermione ignored him, but continued to help him with his cloak before turning towards Harry. 'Where will you be staying tonight?'
He shrugged, not answering the question they both already knew the answer to. Right after the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry had gone back to Grimmauld Place, initially just to stay there for a couple of nights to get his head back together while the wizarding world awoke from its Dark Magic-induced coma. However, instead of leaving the place again to stay at the Burrow - as Mrs Weasley had so often proposed - he’d stayed.
'Oh, Harry, why do you insist on going back to that place?' Hermione asked softly. 'You know you hate it, and the Order doesn’t need it anymore. Just sell it, get yourself a nice flat somewhere in London if that’s where you want to be… Or don’t,' she added as she heard him huff, assuming wrongly that he did so because he was thinking about his funds. 'You have enough gold to last you a lifetime, anyway.'
Ron, now fully dressed and in an attempt to lighten the conversation, added, 'And that’s why he’s paying for the drinks tonight, aren’t you Harry?' He smiled a somewhat lopsided grin, making Harry laugh quietly.
'Well, I really ought to get going,' Hermione said finally. She walked over and gave Harry a tight hug and a peck on the cheek. 'Take care,' she whispered before going back to Ron, whom she also gave a quick kiss, although on a different place. While Ron’s head turned as red as his hair, Hermione made her way over to the fireplace, grabbed some Floo powder, and disappeared into the green flames before Ron had even fully processed what had just happened.
*
When he got home, Harry took another good look around himself. The house really was dreary. He hadn’t bothered doing anything about the now peeling wallpaper, the still stuck and covered portrait of Mrs Black, nor had he bothered to ask Kreacher, who usually kept himself busy enough with the cooking and basic cleaning.
Halfway up the stairs and in a heated battle with his too tightly done tie, he realised how fed up he really was with the day. He was annoyed, and not just a little bit. Annoyed at Malfoy for attracting attention to him again today, annoyed that tomorrow there was bound to be something about it in the Prophet, annoyed that he didn’t understand who that man in the top hat had been, annoyed because he actually let it bug him, and annoyed that Hermione simply wouldn’t give his living at Grimmauld Place a rest. Remembering his reaction at the beginning of his sixth year, when Dumbledore had announced that Grimmauld Place was to be his, he stopped, already halfway up the stairs. He hadn’t wanted the house back then. Hell, he would’ve given anything not to have to return to this place. But now… He sighed and let his back - careful enough not to wake Mrs Black - fall back against the wall. Now it seemed like an almost hurtful reminder of all the people he’d lost; Sirius, Remus and Tonks, Dumbledore, and even Snape’s ghost seemed to reside here.
Giving up on the tie, he took out his wand, pointed it at the blasted thing and, by giving it a quick swish, had the tie severed in his hand within seconds. As he continued his way up, he dropped it and started working on his shirt next. By the time he’d reached the topmost step and had entered his bedroom, the stairs were littered with pieces of clothing.
Still half-dressed, he let himself slump on the bed, falling asleep immediately.
Chapter 2: An Unwelcome Awakening