Title: Father's Day
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I don't own it. J.K. Rowling does.
Author's Notes: I know this chapter took a long time to get out. I actually needed to take a break and focus on school; take a break from writing; and focus on some other things for awhile. I'm hoping to wrap this one up soon so I can go work on some other stories (my count of which is up to 5 now).
Chapter 12: Revenge and Rebuttal
Somewhere in the back of Harry's mind, Artie's words repeated themselves over and over.
Draco … Draco killed Ron …
For a second, Harry slackened his grip on Artie, and the boy struggled out of his grasp, slumping to the ground on his knees and breaking into heart-wrenching sobs. Harry stared at the younger wizard, his focus strangely blurred as he tried to process Artie's words.
Draco … Draco Malfoy…
Ginny's husband…
A raw hatred boiled up in Harry's body, his fingers curling around the folds of his robes as he fought the urge to run out and kill the man responsible for his friend's death. One look at Hermione and Harry must have betrayed his intentions, because the stunned woman mouthed the word "No," and slowly made her way to Artie's side, dropping to her knees and wrapping an arm tentatively around Artie's shoulders.
"Why don't you tell us what you mean, Artie?" Hermione whispered quietly, her soft voice shaking Harry out of his barely controlled rage.
"I … saw … him …" Artie managed to get out between ragged sobs. Hermione cast a helpless glance to Harry. Snapping to his senses, Harry slowly knelt beside Artie, wrapping one arm around Artie and the second around Hermione. He leaned his forehead against Artie's, as if physical contact would be able to will the boy to calm down.
"Tell us what you saw, Artie," Hermione said softly, brushing some of the tears out of Artie's eyes with a handkerchief. Artie sniffed, nodding and wiping his nose with the back of his sleeve. He inhaled deeply, and then began to tell his story.
* * *
The night of Ron's death…
If there was one thing Artie could count on, it was that his father was always home by ten o'clock. On this particular evening, Ron was supposed to be back an hour ago.
Normally, Artie was not allowed to stay home alone while Ron was working. It was something he'd been arguing with his father about over the past few years, but his dad has always replied that he didn't want to come home and find the house blown up. For the past week though, it had been different. Ron had let Artie stay home alone, provided he didn't leave the house.
At first, Artie had not been sure what to do with his newfound freedom. But as the days wore on, it seemed less and less special. Tonight, something seemed wrong though. Artie thought about flooing to his grandmother's house and seeing if Ron had stopped by there; but almost immediately he'd dismissed that idea.
If Grandma finds out I'm home alone, she'll never let me do it again, Artie thought to himself.
No, he had to leave her out of this. So Artie couldn't go to the Burrow. For about ten minutes he paced back and forth across the room.
It wasn't until 11 o'clock that Artie really started getting worried. And that's the time he made his decision. He wasn't supposed to touch the floo powder - not without his dad there. It was expensive and Ron didn't like using it more than necessary.
Now Artie stood on his tiptoes, on top of a shaky stool that was nestled next to the fireplace, reaching for the brass bowl that held the floo powder. The very tips of his fingers closed around the edge of the lip and he cautiously pulled the bowl off the shelf. A little bit of the floo powder spilled on his shirt, and the eleven-year-old couldn't keep from cringing. His dad was not going to be very happy with him.
Taking a bit of the floo powder in his right hand, Artie brushed some of the dust off his shirt and stepped inside of the fireplace. Green flames shot up around him and Artie yelled "Fred and George's Shop" before the sight of the flames unnerved him. Artie felt a tug behind his navel and for a moment he entered a dizzying spin, his body turning with mind-numbing speed until he fell onto his knees and fell forward.
"Ooph," Artie grunted as he hit the ground hard and lurched forward onto his knees. Stars flashed between his eyes for a moment and he rubbed his head.
The sound of yelling snapped his focus on the pain and brought the younger boy scrambling to his knees. His eyes widened as the sound of two voices processed in his mind. His father was fighting … and the other voice sounded like Uncle Draco. Artie's eyes narrowed. Uncle Draco had taken his aunt Ginny away from the family, and aunt Ginny had let him; his father had told him. That's why none of them talked to aunt Ginny anymore.
Artie crept towards the side of the door, sneaking quietly across the wooden floorboards. When he was in hearing range, he pressed his back against the wall and arched his head towards the doorway. The screaming had tapered off - evidently the two wizards had realized their arguments could be heard down the street and had attempted to control the attention they received.
"Are you threatening me?" Ron's harsh whisper sounded. Artie's eyes widened and he frantically began to search around the room for something he could throw at Draco.
"…fool, Weasle. I'm … Ginny …" Draco's voice was muffled.
Artie frowned, pressing his ear against the door. What were they saying about Aunt Ginny?
"Get out!" Ron suddenly shouted, causing Artie to stumble backwards and fall on the seat of his pants. For a terrified moment he hesitated, thinking that surely he would be found out now. He squinted his eyes closed and waited for the inevitable sound of his father's yelling.
It never came.
Instead, Artie heard the slamming of a door that caused his eardrums to rattle. The eleven-year-old froze, fighting the urge to scramble to the fireplace again and disappear home. Before he could move though, his father's voice sounded again.
"I thought I told you … what the …"
"Avada Kedavra!"
Artie's eyes widened. He knew that curse - every wizard did. It was You-Know-Who's favorite way to kill people.
A thud sounded behind the door, shortly followed by a slam. Artie scrambled to his feet and pushed open the door to the back room, his face paling. His father was laying on his back, his eyes wide in shock.
"Dad?" Artie said tentatively, tears boiling over as he kneeled beside his father. "Dad … wake up … we have to go home now."
Shaking hands shoved against his father's rigid form. No response. A choked sob erupted from the eleven-year-old's throat as he buried his face in his father's shirt. The silent joke shop exploded with the sound of agonizing sobs as the dam safeguarding Artie's emotions broke and the boy erupted into frenzied sobs by his father's lifeless form. The tormented cry could be heard clear at the other end of Diagon Alley.
"Dad!"
* * *
Present Day…
Harry listened to Artie's story with a kind of numbness that besets one who has undergone a great trauma. A murderous rage fell over his body, threatening to stifle all rational thought. He was going to murder Draco Malfoy. While he fought his inner urges to immediately storm out of the room and commit the heinous act, Hermione drew the weeping Artie into a warm embrace, whispering something indistinguishable against his ear. She gave Harry a guarded look, subduing any thoughts of vengeance. A sigh escaped his throat as Harry slowly stood, crossing the room and ushering Todd and Amelia out of the room. Amelia frequently muttered apologies as Harry gently guided her out the door, silencing her only when he promised she wouldn't face expulsion. As soon as the two Gryffindors had departed, Harry silently closed the doors and turned back towards Hermione, who was rocking Artie and murmuring some soothing song under her breath.
He watched the exchange numbly, his rage long dissipated. Harry watched in silence as Artie's sobs slowly faded into a muffled whimpers, finally turning into sniffles.
"Artie," Hermione whispered quietly, "did you actually see Draco murder your father?"
Her inquiry brought both men's eyes on her. Harry gazed upon the mahogany-haired witch with confusion while Artie's expression was one of utter horror.
"What?" Artie whispered, his voice scarcely a squeak.
"Did you actually see Draco murder your father?" Hermione asked again. Artie immediately drew back from her embrace, scrambling to his feet with lightning speed. Fury was etched across his features.
"What are you trying to say?" Artie's voice was one notch lower than a yell. Harry at once wanted to reprimand Artie and congratulate him for the act. He could understand Artie's anger. How could Hermione doubt Draco's guilt after all Artie had just told them? All of the pieces of the puzzle finally made sense. Draco was the president of Malfoy Industries. He had the means and ability to supply the Deatheaters with a seemingly unlimited cash flow. Draco hated Ron, Harry, and Hermione with a passion. Draco had somehow coerced Ginny into turning her back on her family. Draco and Ron had argued the night of Ron's death. Draco had threatened Ron, had left the shop, returned in a rage, and killed him.
Everything made perfect sense.
"Artie," Hermione's quiet voice snapped Harry out of his train of thought. "I'm not trying to say anything. I just want you to carefully think about this. Did you see Draco murder your father?"
"I know what I heard!" Artie said, his hands clenching so tightly his knuckles turned white. His face was darkening to a shade almost as red as his hair.
"Artie, I'm not doubting what you heard," Hermione said cautiously, though Harry could detect a hint of exasperation in her voice. "I simply want to know if what you saw matched what you think happened."
"You don't believe me!" Artie shouted, his voice so loud that Harry cringed, stifling the urge to stuff his fingers in his ears. "You're just like Aunt Ginny!" he cried, spinning on his heel and racing out the exit before Harry or Hermione could stop him.
Hermione let out a deep sigh, pushing to her feet and wiping the front of her hands on her genes. She glanced to Harry's eyes, apparently searching for comfort, but his dark emerald gaze made her stop cold.
"Why are you looking at me like that, Harry?" Hermione said quietly, her chocolate gaze focused on the taller wizard.
"Why are you refusing to see reason, Hermione?" Harry said bitterly.
"I refuse to believe Ginny is that bad of a judge of character," Hermione retorted, as Harry's ire upped just a notch.
"She married Malfoy, didn't she?" Harry responded, leaving Hermione in stunned silence as he spun on his heel and left the room.
* * *
A rampaging Hippogriff couldn't have stood in Harry's way as he made his way down Knockturn Alley to the shop he and Hermione had once spotted Draco going into. Without preamble Harry threw open the door, his eyes struggling to adjust to the dim lighting as he entered the shop.
Artemius Niggle was the shop's owner, and Harry had long desired to stage a raid on his Knockturn Alley shop. Artemius' father had often dealt with Lucius Malfoy and it was suspected Niggle had inherited his father's affections for the dark arts.
The slouching, disheveled, grimy-haired wizard looked up with surprise as Harry stormed into his shop, his dark eyes widening as he realized who it was. Hurriedly, he shoved some papers underneath the counter, not having time to prepare for Harry's visit. But Harry ignored this, instead focusing on leveling a surly gaze on the shorter, skinnier wizard. Dispensing with the pleasantries, Harry reached across the countertop and grabbed the man by the lapel.
"Mr … Har…Harry Potter," Artemius stuttered, his face blanching as Harry pulled him across the counter.
"Draco Malfoy…" Harry said curtly. "Why was he here the other day?"
"I … I have no idea what you're talking about," Artemius whimpered. Harry's eyes narrowed and despite the voice in his head telling him contrary, he slammed the shopkeeper's head into the counter with a resounding crack before he pulled out his wand, leveling it square between his eyes. The shorter wizard gulped as he stared down the point of the wand into Harry's angry emerald gaze.
"In about two seconds, you're going to find out the meaning of pain," Harry growled in a low, menacing voice. Surprisingly, he meant it. He might no longer be an Auror, but he felt no remorse about hexing the shopkeeper. And he was pretty certain Artemius realized it true.
"Please don't h-hurt me … Mr. Potter," Artemius whimpered, his body quaking.
"Tell me what Draco was doing here," Harry said, waving the point of his wand slightly, causing the man on the other end to cower slightly.
"He … he … came to see me," Artemius stuttered. Impatience gnawed at Harry's stomach and he shoved the tip of the wand against the man's skin.
"I know that," Harry said angrily. "I saw him. What did he want?"
"I'm… I'm not supposed to tell…" Artemius whimpered. Harry's green gaze narrowed and he pushed a bit more forcefully on his wand, intent on making the wizard spill the information.
"I wasn't supposed to tell anyone," Artemius whimpered. "I saw … I saw him go into the Weasley's Diagon Alley shop that night … the night that Ronald Weasley was killed."
Harry's eyes narrowed as he processed this information. Elation surged through his body. This was the witness he needed to prove Malfoy's guilt. The dark-haired wizard leaned in, trying to look as menacing as possible as he asked his next question, "How many times did you see him go in?"
Artemius whimpered, trying to pull away from Harry's grip but Harry leveled his snapped his left arm out with lightning speed, as if he were grabbing the snitch in the Hogwarts Cup, and gripped the man's arm in a death grip.
"Tell me, now!" Harry yelled, ignoring the sound of rattling windows and what he thought were nosy passersby peeking inside the dusty shop window.
"I…I saw him go in twice!" Artemius shouted. Satisfaction flooded Harry's body as he slowly released the whimpering wizard, who quickly darted into the back room and slammed the door shut.
Harry took a few cautious steps back, a smile etched across his features as he watched the wizard flee. Somewhere inside his mind, a voice screamed in protest at his rough treatment of the witness, but he'd learned what he'd wanted to learn.
Now it was time to make Draco Malfoy pay.
* * *
"No, I told you it was three dozen gross of bat wings and a dozen orders of self-stirring cauldrons from the Netherland's," Draco Malfoy's angry voice rang out from behind the closed door shortly before Harry stepped through it. The chief executive officer of Malfoy Industries was standing by the fireplace, talking to the head of another wizard (probably a supplier, Harry mused). At the sound of the interruption, Draco's head snapped up, his grey eyes casting a deadly look on the figure who had entered through the door. At the sight of his former rival, Draco's eyes grew ice cold and his hand immediately snapped towards his wand. Harry was quicker though, and he'd already had his wand in hand when he entered the door.
"Expelliarmus!" Harry screamed, sending a blast of red light towards Draco that sent the blond-headed wizard flying across the room.
"Oh my!" the voice in the fireplace shouted before quickly fading out of sight. Harry ignored it, racing across the room to level his wand on the crumpled Malfoy's chest. Draco glared daggers at Harry, his hand reaching towards his wand until Harry waved his wand again under Draco's nose. Draco's hand stilled in response, casting a murderous glare at Harry Potter.
"Potter," Draco hissed, his look positively venomous.
"You killed Ron," Harry said coldly, his eyes flashing as he tried to suppress the rage he felt bubbling up inside him. It wasn't easy, especially when Draco began to laugh.
"The Weasel?" Draco hissed with a hint of derision, only serving to inflame Harry's volatile emotions. "I didn't kill him. You can't prove anything."
"I have a witness who says he saw you in Ron's shop that night," Harry said grimly, unable to keep the smile of satisfaction from crossing his face. At this pronouncement Draco's eyes immediately darkened. With an angry shove Draco pushed Harry's wand out of the way, scrambling to his feet. In an instant Harry directed the tip of his wand at the Slytherin's throat.
"Who?" Draco hissed, and in an instant his wand was in his right hand and directed at Harry's own throat. At this moment he almost wished Draco would try to kill him. It would make this moment of victory all that much sweeter.
"That is none of your concern," Harry said with a slight smile. At Draco's frown the smile dissipated from his face as Harry pressed his lips together and issued a loud whistle. Instantly, Ministry Aurors began pouring into the room.
Draco's eyes grew wide as he watched the wizards pour in. He immediately dropped his wand, reaching for a picture of him and Ginny on his desk, but Harry had prepared for that eventuality. He knew Draco's office was likely to have apparition wards in place to prevent other people from stealing company secrets. Draco Malfoy would never stoop to using floo powder if he wanted to go directly to his office. That meant he had to have a portkey.
Harry's right hand shot out, catching Draco on the temple and sending the former Slytherin seeker stumbling against the back wall. Moments later the two of them were surrounded by no fewer than twenty Aurors, each of whom had their wands leveled on Draco.
"You're making a mistake, Potter," Draco hissed as two of the Aurors scooped him up underneath his arms and began ushering out of the room. Draco continued to meet Harry's gaze as he was ushered from the room. "You're making a big mistake, Potter. You'll pay for this," Draco shouted before the door slammed shut behind him and at least ten other Aurors.
"No, Draco," Harry whispered quietly as the wizard was ushered from the room. "You made the mistake."
* * *
Harry strolled through the halls of Hogwarts, a haughty expression on his face as he walked with his chin held high. The warm feeling of satisfaction spread through his body as he sauntered towards Hermione's office. He couldn't wait to tell her what he'd just done.
"Harry?!? Where on earth have you been?" Hermione's voice called from behind him. Harry spun around, his smile widening for a brief moment before fading surreptitiously off his face. Hermione's eyes were red and swollen and tears were streaming down her cheeks. The warm feeling that had been so prominent just a few moments ago was quickly replaced by the cold tendrils of dread.
"Hermione, what's wrong?" Harry asked, taking the smaller woman in his embrace. Hermione immediately broke into sobs, her arms wrapping around Harry's shoulders. All thoughts of his wonderful afternoon quickly faded from his mind as he cradled his crying fiancé in his arms.
"He was so upset, Harry," Hermione whispered, causing the older wizard's face to pale as her words. Artie's flying test. Harry had been so focused on confronting Draco Malfoy that the exam had completely slipped his mind.
"I tried to tell him you'd be there, but he was so upset. He just got on the broom and flew away."
Harry felt his throat dry as he slowly drew back from Hermione's embrace, fighting back the fear that was starting to build in his stomach. Hermione glanced at Harry through tear-filled eyes.
"Harry, he flew straight into the Whomping Willow."
Harry's eyes immediately snapped shut, pain and guilt lancing through his body. Artie had gotten hurt again, and it was all his fault. He had failed.
"How … bad?" Harry managed to get out through clenched teeth as tears began to well in his eyes.
"Harry, Madame Pomfrey … she …," Hermione let out a sob as she struggled to regain her composure. "She doesn't think he's going to live."