"You can't seriously be thinking of going!" Bellatrix had been furious when she heard that Harry had fought Voldemort himself, but she had calmed down after Harry had told he he was fine - her fear had turned to pride when she realized he had managed to hold his own and get in a few good shots on Voldemort, but it came back with a vengeance when he told her of Dumbledore's offer to meet.
"I have to," Harry told her quietly. They were alone, for now. Everyone had retired for the night, Hiscophney had taken his injured and dead people back to his island to take care of them, and Neville had led the members of Potter's Legion back to London with a promise to be in touch. "By now, even Fudge can't deny that it was all one big setup by Voldemort, and that'll do quite a bit to clear my name, I hope."
Bella glared at him. "It may, but have you forgotten you're still under a life sentence in Azkaban for the murder of muggles? This may have cleared you of the attacks on muggle villages, but it doesn't have any bearing on what got you into this mess in the first place!"
Harry glared back stubbornly. "But now Voldemort realizes that we're on to him, and he'll switch tactics. He knows that everyone else knows that he's been trying to set me up, and he'll go for more direct attacks now. Also, we dealt him a pretty heavy blow, and from what I heard we captured at least a few members of his inner circle - not to mention what this is going to do to their morale. He'll attack, soon, and he'll make it big. He must, if he wants to prove to them he's still strong."
"And you'll be there to fight him." Bella sighed. "Harry, you can't fight him if the Ministry sticks you back into Azkaban - and believe me, I have no doubts that Fudge would do that without a moment's hesitation. Going to this meeting is a bad idea."
"No, it's not," Harry disagreed. "In fact, I think now's the perfect time. Voldemort's forced back on the offensive, and we know something big is coming. We need all the help we can get, and at the very least I can get them to stay out of my business. If we're distracted by the Ministry or the Order showing up and get caught in the crossfire, there's no telling how many people are going to die."
"I don't like it, but I see your point." Bella frowned. "But if you're going, I'm coming along!"
"No." Harry shook his head decisively.
"But-"
"Bella, even if Dumbledore's telling the truth - and at this point, I'm not so sure it isn't an ambush - then he's going to be talking to me. I'm not going to take the chance that he'll suddenly turn on you, especially not since we haven't cleared your name. You're as much a wanted criminal as I am, if not more so, and Dumbledore has no reason to hold back on your account. Besides," Harry added with a small grin, "if it is a trap, I'll need someone to bust me out of jail. I kind of doubt they'd stick me back into Azkaban, seeing that it belongs to me."
"Fine, but you're taking guards. And Hiscophney, if he wants to come."
"I'll take the guards. Hiscophney needs to see that his people are properly buried and honored. Besides, I need you, Hiscophney, Xerina, Neville, Snape and Remus here, trying to figure out what target Voldemort is most likely to hit next. We need to be ready for that."
"What about the Ministry?" Bella asked.
"Let me worry about the Ministry. If they're not prepared to help, we can fight this war on our own. We just need to make sure they stay out of our way." Harry shrugged. "We also need a long-term plan for dealing with Voldemort. I know the prophecy says I'll kill him or he'll kill me, but at this point I don't know just how I'm going to accomplish that."
"I have a few ideas," Bella muttered quietly enough that Harry didn't hear. "I'll bring it up at the meeting. When did you set the meeting with Dumbledore?"
"Tomorrow afternoon. We're meeting in the Minister of Magic's office. Bert knows I'm coming - I sent him a message earlier. Hopefully it's enough of a neutral ground."
"Neutral ground?" Bella asked, alarmed. "You'll be surrounded by dozens of Aurors in the entire building, all of whom would like nothing better than to arrest you!"
Harry grinned. "But Bert's not going to let them arrest me. The Minister still holds ultimate authority over the law enforcement. There'll be a half-dozen guards standing outside the door, too, that Xerina sent over, so it should be fine. Any renegade Auror who'd want to arrest me against the Minister of Magic's explicit orders will have to get through them first. Well, and they'll have to get through me, too."
"I'd still feel better I came along."
"I know." Harry sighed at his wife's pout. "Look, you're working on something really important here, and the sooner we get Neville's parents cured, the sooner Dumbledore is going to get off my back about returning them. I don't know why he even thinks I'd use them, especially since I have no clue what kind of spell they were working on before… well, you know." He glanced at her, mentally kicking himself as he saw the tears she was holding back. Harry reached out and wrapped an arm around his wife's shoulders to comfort her. "Hey, don't cry. It wasn't your fault. And even so, you're doing your best to fix it."
The rest of the night was spent in mutual comfort, thoughts of the following day forgotten as they both dwelled on the past.
Word had gotten around fast that Lord Polairix was innocent of the attacks on muggle villages, and word had also spread that he was anything but pleased with the accusations that had been hurled his way. So when he strode through the halls of the Ministry, presenting an imposing figure wrapped in a black cloak that billowed behind him, and his face hidden in the shadows of his hood, people made to get out of his way. They were helped along by the six heavily-armed ice soldiers that flanked Polairix, their polearms gleaming in the light, and their armor polished to perfection. Lord Polairix was here to make an impression, and that was exactly what he did.
The doors to the Minister's office flew open, startling one of the men sitting in the office. The other merely chuckled and waved him inside. With a nod to his guards, the six soldiers posted themselves outside the door. A wave of the hand closed the doors with much more gentleness than they'd opened with, and Lord Polairix lowered his hood. He grinned at Mockridge, who was clearly hiding a smile at Dumbledore's flustered expression, then gave his old headmaster a curt nod in acknowledgement, before sinking down in one of the chairs before the desk.
"So glad you could join us, Harry," Mockridge greeted him when Harry had shed his cloak and settled down.
"Well, hello to you, too, Bert. So, how's business today?" Harry shot back with a grin, ignoring Dumbledore for now. The old mage was watching the exchange with disbelief, speechless for one of the first times in his life.
"Oh, you know, same old, same old. Death Eater attacks, we're getting there too late. You know that raid you stopped? We managed to 'convince' a few of them to spill on their respective cells, so we're in the process of rooting them out," Mockridge explained.
"That was quick."
The Minister shrugged. "Well, we're at war. Don't really have the luxury to leave You-know-who to his devices, especially not with his nose as bloodied as it is."
"Very true," Harry agreed.
"I suppose you've also heard about Fudge's little rebellion?" Mockridge arched an eyebrow when Harry shook his head negative. "Well, when I was elected, a few fake Aurors stormed the hall under Fudge's leadership, apparently. The man seems to have gone completely over the edge, and he's probably joined up with the dark lord by now. Who knows if that means he's alive or dead."
"Doesn't really matter at this point. Fudge is insignificant if we can get rid of Voldemort," Harry agreed. He finally turned to Dumbledore. "You said you wanted to talk? Well, talk, old man."
"You - well - you two know each other?" Dumbledore asked, still a little shaken as he glanced back and forth between the two men who were conversing like old friends.
"Why, of course," Harry nodded, "I've met Bert here quite a few times. You know, back when he was the head of the Goblin Liaision office."
Mockridge grinned and added, "And Harry here was rather instrumental in arranging for the re-opening of Gringotts. Without his presence, I doubt the goblins would've listened to me at all. And when he pointed out that our leadership was incompetent, well…" the Minister shrugged.
"The chance presented itself to get someone into power who wasn't so quick to condemn me on sketchy circumstantial evidence that could rather easily be explained away and the words of a few opportunistic so-called 'friends.'" Harry glared at Dumbledore. "I find it interesting that a complete stranger was more willing to listen to me and draw his own conclusions than my friends and the people who were supposed to know me."
"Harry-"
"Don't even start on the apologies, Dumbledore. Just because you realized you screwed up now and feel guilty doesn't make it all right. A few apologies and contrite faces can't make what you did to me go away, can't make the feelings of betrayal just vanish. You accused me at every turn, at every point, every time we met, without even giving me a chance to speak, and yet here you are, demanding I extend that courtesy to you? Unless you've got something to say relating to the war effort, I suggest you don't speak to me." Harry snorted in disgust.
Dumbledore sighed and nodded in defeat; the old mage had a feeling that Harry had already cut all ties with them the moment they'd damned him to Azkaban. The only thing that connected them now was the destruction of Voldemort, and the headmaster wasn't entirely sure Harry needed their help in that endeavour. And if he didn't, it could very well be that when all was said and done, the world had heard the last of Harry Potter. There was nothing that would hold him in the wizarding world, and even the conviction that had landed him in Azkaban could easily be overturned; after all, one would listen more to the highly influential, wealthy, and powerful Lord Polairix than Harry Potter, scapegoat-turned-hero of the day. Even his own arguments sounded weak and un founded now that Dumbledore thought back to the trial. Harry had been right, they should have looked deeper, used Veritaserum, but everyone had been so hell-bent on their proverbial witch hunt that none cared. And it had caused this, brought them all to this point. So, he did the only thing he could - he conceded defeat.
"You're right, of course, Harry. Despite the fact that it might mean nothing to you at all, though, I wanted to apologize for everything we've put you through." The old man suddenly seemed even older as he spoke. "But more importantly, we need to discuss Voldemort."
"That's right," Harry turned back to Mockridge. "I don't suppose any of them spilled where Voldemort is hiding out at the moment?"
The Minister shook his head. "I'm afraid not. None of them were willing to, or even knew. Voldemort seems to have adjusted his tactics to using small-scale guerilla cells that are contacted and led by members of his inner circle. We've gotten a good number of them, but the foot soldiers don't know and the circle members can't talk, since apparently the dark lord's hideout is under a modified version of the Fidelius. Their memories of its location were wiped the instant we treated them with Veritaserium, and our legilimancers confirmed that." Mockridge chuckled. "On a brighter note, though, they did reveal that Voldemort isn't happy at all about the bloody nose you gave him. A few Death Eaters even seem to think that he isn't as all-powerful as he claims to be."
"One defeat was all it took?" Harry snickered. "Looks like this is going to be easier than I thought it would. All we've got to do is rout his in a few places and his people are going to start leaving him." Man, wizards are cowards. Show any indication that there's someone stronger out there to follow, and they start making noises, he thought, though he kept it to himself.
"Right, but that's easier said than done," Mockridge noted. "He's going to be more careful where he plans his attacks from now on. I've already boosted the Auror corps and placed guards and warning wards around important targets I think he might be considering, like Diagon Alley, the Ministry, and Hogwarts and Hogsmeade, but we can't be everywhere at the same time. We also need a fast response group that can react quickly to any reported attacks." The Minister shrugged helplessly. "We simply don't have the manpower to guard every possible target and strike back."
"The Order has been helping out with that," Dumbledore informed Harry, "we've been securing potential targets, as well, and we've been trying to figure out where Voldemort would attack next, but Severus reports that he keeps his plans under tight lock and key."
Harry grinned at the mention of the Potions professor. "Well, then, I think I can solve the manpower issue for you. Before I left, I sent a request to Queen Xerina of the Ice people for a couple of contingents of troops, and Count Trazkaban has been putting together a rather considerable force of sorcerers already. As for figuring out where the next attack is going to be… well, I'd put my odds on it being an underdefended place with lots of potential for civillian casualties and collateral damage. Something like the middle of a wizarding village."
"Why's that?" Dumbledore asked, curious. The suggestion was something he hadn't thought of before, and it hadn't come up in any Order meeting, either.
"Simple." Harry smiled grimly. "If I was some maniac who ruled through fear and intimidation, and I'd just been dealt a nasty blow to my pride, I'd be damn well looking for a place to attack that would be lightly guarded if at all, where my minions could kill to their hearts' content without worrying about taking casualties. If he blows up a wizarding town, no matter how small, it's going to be all over the papers the next day, and the death count is going to be ludicrously high, especially if it's an out-of-the-way town. That'll convince people that he's still all-powerful and intimidate them into following him again."
"But wouldn't he rather attack a target of importance? That would make much more of an impact on the public opinion than massacring a random town, especially if he's out to take over the wizarding world?" Dumbledore asked.
Surprisingly, it was Mockridge who answered as realization dawned in the man's eyes. "I see. He's not going to risk casualties in an assault on an important target while his followers are uneasy. It'd be much easier to intimidate the populace some more, regain support, and then attack important targets with fanatically loyal followers instead ones that have doubts about him."
"Exactly," Harry nodded. "Also, if he attacks an unguarded town, the public will demand you pull Aurors from their current posts and place them around the country to protect the villages and communities, weakening your defenses here."
"It's a good plan," Mockridge admitted reluctantly. "We don't have the forces to stop him from attacking anywhere else, and if we do, he'll just attack here. We're stuck."
"There's something we can do," Harry told him. "We can strike first. We take out more of his powerbase and force him to act… force him to attack a target of our choice."
"I don't know," Dumbledore mused, "getting Voldemort desperate enough to commit to an attack he was forced into seems dangerous. We don't know what he's capable of when he's cornered that way."
"Are you kidding me?!" Harry burst out. "Whatever he's going to do when we've got him where we want him can't be any worse than what he's doing right now! He's killing innocent people, unchecked, because he's running the exact kind of warfare he knows you can't defend against!" Like the people in Southhallerton, Harry thought darkly. Logically he knew that there had been nothing he could've done; doing anything to save the populace would have cost them their best shot at Voldemort, but that didn't make it any easier to live with. Seventeen, he thought. Seventeen muggles had died in the attack before the trap had been sprung.
He had requested that the cleanup teams Hiscophney had sent collect the names of the dead and place them on a small memorial marker. Despite Bella's insistence, he had asked to know who and how many of them had died, because they had been his responsibility, because they had been his fault. He'd gotten over beating himself up to try and find a better way to stop Voldemort - barely, with a lot of coaching from Bella and Neville and Xerina and Hiscophney, but he knew that it wasn't over. He would remember them when this war was over, because that was the least he owed them. He pushed his guilt and remorse aside for the moment, because he had a war to lead, and Voldemort would only be too happy to take advantage of any openings he gave him. The good of the many outweighs the good of the few, Harry thought bitterly.
"You don't know Voldemort," Dumbledore insisted. "You have no idea what he's capable of, what atrocities he is willing to commit when he is desperate. The people live in fear of him for good reason, and to force him into a corner will only make things worse!"
" I don't know what Voldemort's capable of?" Harry barked out a semi-hysteric laughter. "I've been having nightmares and visions of what he's done since I was eleven! I've met the guy, witnessed what he's done, and you're telling me I don't know what he can do? I've seen the aftermath of destroyed muggle villages, the mutilated corpses he's left behind - I've seen the remainder of dark curses so evil you could feel it!"
The two older men watched in apprehension as Harry's laughter grew more hysteric, until he'd given up ranting in favor of just laughing like a madman, tears streaming down his face. Dumbledore merely hung his head; he knew he'd hit all the wrong spots with his reply, though he'd only been genuinely worried about the dark lord's response to their offensive. Mockridge, on the other hand, was beginning to wonder if Harry was at all stable, and if the fate of the wizarding world didn't rest on a maniac who was as insane as the one they were trying to get rid of. He could understand Harry's frustration, but he hoped the young wizard would be able to work through it, because if Harry went insane, there was nothing that could save the wizarding world from ruin.
It took several minutes for Harry to calm down, but when he did, there was nothing left of the insanity he'd shown earlier, his face neutral. "Anyway, Dumbledore, don't tell me I don't know what Voldemort is capable of," he hissed dangerously, not bothering to apologize for his outburst. "Either way, I don't need your approval, and I certainly could care less if you don't like what I'm going to do, because, like it or not, I'm declaring war on Voldemort, and to be perfectly honest, the only thing that would concern you is how many of your people are going to get caught in the crossfire."
"No one here is going to oppose you in that," Mockridge noted calmly, trying to smooth over the proverbial ruffled phoenix feathers. "I think what Professor Dumbledore was alluding to was that Voldemort may become unpredictable when we force his hand, and that if we are not careful, may end up making our situation worse."
"That is precisely why we need to take him out, and quickly. Now, we've been working out a plan, and it would be a great help if the Ministry would at the very least not oppose us." Harry stared at Dumbledore, as if daring the man to say more, his temper barely kept in check.
"We all can agree that we're on the same side here. Now, what was that plan you've been working on, Harry?" Mockridge leaned forward in his chair, interposing himself as much as he could between Dumbledore and Harry.
"Continue a public campaign against Voldemort and his supporters, for starters. Re-open all the newspapers and news agencies without the biased bull Fudge had them publish, and publicate any and all victories against Death Eaters. Take the war to the people, close down the Gringotts accounts of all known Death Eaters, put up wanted pictures, and generally deny them their financial and public resources. This'll also make it harder for them to appear in public, and if you urge the people to report any suspicious activity, you can be sure that you'll find Death Eaters or Death Eater wannabes somewhere." Harry ticked off his fingers. "Also, we know Voldemort is going to be planning something big. Warn the populace to stay in their homes, ward themselves, and if they see Death Eaters anywhere close by, take the opportunity and run."
"I thought you said you wanted to strike before he did?"
Harry nodded. "That's the idea. That way, if we can deprive him of the first strike, we can move him towards a target of our choosing. My allies are still working out where the best and most probable location would be. If you want, I can inform you once we've chosen a target. The attack will hopefully happen within the next two or three days so Voldemort won't have time to pick his target. You'll understand if I only send the message to you, Bert. We don't know who we can trust in the Ministry, especially not with Fudge's recent escapade."
"And how do you plan on making him attack a specific target? Voldemort is rather difficult to predict, and the fact that we have so many potential targets must be a blessing for him," Dumbledore chimed in, stroking his beard after the old mage had regained his composure.
Harry grinned toothily. "Simple. We give him an opportunity he can't pass up." The lord of Polairix stood up and spread his arms. "Move all the Aurors away from the Ministry, and make sure Voldemort knows I'm here. Trust me, he will come."
"That's preposterous!" Mockridge exclaimed, shocked. "What you're proposing is that you'll duel Voldemort by yourself, and you'll be using yourself as a bait to lure him and however many of his troops he's going to bring here?"
"Maybe," Harry acknowledged, "but unless you've got a better idea as to who's going to stop Voldemort, then that's the way it's going to be."
"He's right," Dumbledore agreed.
"What?!" It was Mockridge's turn to shoot out of his chair. "Are you sanctioning this… this… crazy stunt, Dumbledore? I know the boy means well, but isn't it about time we faced up to our responsibilities?! We can't let a young man, almost a child still, fight our battles for us! I've read the reports, you've let him face the dark lord for the years he was attending your school, and it's a miracle Harry's still alive. No, there must be a better way to deal with him than letting a child duel the most feared dark lord in a century!"
"We have no choice." Dumbledore looked up, his eyes shining with regret that came too late. "There's been a prophecy, and with the revelation of current events, it ties in with a newer one that you both should hear."
"A prophecy?" Mockridge asked, and Dumbledore explained to him the one made by Sybil Trelawney. When he was done, Mockridge was pale.
"You mean, Harry's the only one with the power to defeat the dark lord?" He shook his head vehemently. "I refuse to believe that. He's just a boy, and it isn't right that we settle him with this burden just because of the words of a crazy woman who happens to think she's a seer!"
"There's more. Shortly before… Harry's trial, there was another prophecy made, one that said North's heir shall be taken to his dominion, where his heritage will manifest itself. The long forgotten power will wake, and Ice's armies will flock to him. Traitors will quail before the betrayed, and will be reckoned with. Voldemort's fate will be decided by he who holds the Black Rod. "
Before Dumbledore could continue, Harry nailed him with a glare that would have killed any lesser man. " That was why you were so quick to condemn me? Some other lousy prophecy?" Harry laughed bitterly. "Let me guess, you all figured that I'd finally cracked what with a dark idiot after me for years, and because you thought that whoever inherited the seat of Lord Polairix would get rid of Voldemort for you, you figured you didn't need me anymore. Is that about right?"
The mage's silence was more than enough answer for both Harry and Mockridge. "Figures," Harry snorted. "You're just like everyone else. Using me, and when you don't need me anymore, you just dump me to whatever fate is most convenient. I'm sorry I ever believed you meant well."
"Is that true?" Mockridge asked after a moment of uncomfortable silence, his tone icy, and his eyes hard. Dumbledore merely nodded and slumped in his chair.
"Guess you didn't count on the fact that I turned out to be the heir of Polairix. Guess that put a mighty crimp in your plans, didn't it, old man?" Harry chuckled darkly. "Let me tell you right now, I intend to fight and win this war, no matter what you've done to me, but I'm not doing it for you. I'm not even doing it for the wizarding world in general. I'm doing it for myself. Voldemort owes me. He owes me for the lives of my parents, he owes me for Sirius. He owes me for everything he's taken from me and my family, and I'll make him pay, if it's the last thing I do. If you know what's good for you, you'll get your little, insignificant Order and get the hell out of my way, because if you get between me and Voldemort, then you're going down along with him, is that understood?"
"I don't believe it!" Mockridge shouted angrily when Dumbledore nodded again. "Harry was right, you just threw him away when the chance arose, just because you thought he wasn't your savior anymore - how could you? How could you let a child carry this burden for years, without support, without help, without friends and allies?! How could you just leave him in Azkaban, abandon him without a proper trial? Are you truly so blind, or are you just an idiot, Dumbledore? With people like you and Harry's alleged friends around, it's no wonder the dark lord is winning!" The Minister leaned forward, slamming his fists into his desk right in front of the headmaster. "It wasn't enough that you let a child do an adult's job, it wasn't enough that the entire war effort rests on a young man who's suffered more than any of us, no, you had to go and do more! You used him when it was convenient, and you threw him away when it wasn't, without ever bothering to check on what you actually did to him! I read through the transcripts of that farce of a trial you gave the boy, Dumbledore, and that's all it was - a joke!"
"We had conclusive evidence-"
"Evidence?" Mockridge and Harry echoed, both of them glaring at the old man. "Circumstantial evidence that could be easily explained had you bothered to check, circumstantial evidence that could have easily been refuted by a questioning under Veritaserum, but you didn't even give him a chance to defend himself! Granted, Fudge was always an idiot when it came to Harry Potter, but I would've thought you had more common sense, Dumbledore. I mean, the boy attended your school for five years, for Merlin's sake! You should've known better, you should've known him . Were you that eager to get rid of him the instant you found out about this new prophecy that you thought you could just… just dump him away and be forgotten about? Do you think you're above the law that you can just use him and then abandon him without even a proper trial?"
"At the time-" Dumbledore tried again, only to be cut off as the Minister rounded his desk to roughly pull the old mage to his feet. Harry seemed to be content to just stand to the side and watch as Mockridge continued his tirade.
"I'll be bringing this before the Wizengamot, Dumbledore, you can be sure about that. Whether you're important to the war or not, I'll have you stripped of your rank and locked away in Azkaban if it turns out that you were so quick to abandon a child to the nonexistent mercy of the Dementors on no evidence at all!"
"Actually," Harry interjected with an amused smirk at the dressing-down his former headmaster was receiving, "he is kind of important. He's the leader of the light, or somesuch nonsense."
Mockridge stared at Dumbledore with newfound disgust. "If he's the leader, then we need a new one." He suddenly remembered one of the memos he'd received. "Sorry about the comment about sending him to Azkaban. Force of habit, I forgot it's not within our jurisdiction anymore."
Harry waved it off. "Don't worry about it. I'd be happy to offer him a room in Chateau Azkaban. On a more important note, while I don't really care whether or not I'm still a wanted man, I'd appreciate it if you could arrange for a re-trial, this time with Veritaserum. I'm afraid it's the only thing I can offer to prove my innocence, since Lucius Malfoy is unfortunately deceased."
"Of course. I'll contact you with the details, but I'll put the arrest warrant for you on hold for the moment until we can sort this mess out. And Dumbledore," Mockridge glared at the man, "I wouldn't go very far if I were you."
"Now, if you're quite done," Harry continued with a smirk, "I'm going to take my leave. I do have a war to plan, after all. I'll be in contact with the details, Bert, but for now kindly put the Aurors on guard and let them know to expect reinforcements. Oh, you might also want to mention that those reinforcements come with their own commanding officers and my express orders. They won't follow any orders given to the by any Auror who thinks he can boss them around."
"Consider it done. I'll start up the media, and I'll get word to the public. Considering what kind of dent you made in the dark lord's image with your counterattack, I'll imagine it'll have quite an impact. Are you sure you want to go through with your idea and try to lure Voldemort here?"
Harry nodded. "I'll let you know once we figure out where we can attack Voldemort, and it may help if we could get a number of Ministry troops to help sweep multiple locations. It's about time we took this war to Voldemort."
"I'll start pulling Aurors from the Ministry then," Mockridge conceded. "And you're right, of course. It's about time we started acting instead of reacting. I just hope for all our sakes that you can defeat him."
"So do I," Harry agreed as he turned to leave. "So do I."