The Deceiver's Distillation
by Jardyn39
Chapter 16 - Epilogue
Hermione sighed loudly and crossed her arms again, sitting in a comfortable chair in the Weasley's living room.
"Well, I think you're both being very childish."
In front of her sat Harry and Ron, both wearing frowns and each looking anywhere but at each other.
Hermione uncrossed her arms again and picked up the tattered newspaper that hadn't failed to lift her spirits every time she saw the front cover. This edition of the Daily Prophet was actually a few days old now, but she would never allow this particular copy to be thrown away.
A wide smile grew across her face as she watched the large photograph that took up almost the entire cover page.
Prominent in the photograph was Harry, or rather, the impostor Harry.
Unfortunately, the black and white newspaper photographs couldn't reproduce any sounds, something Hermione regretted. She watched as Harry's arm movements became more and more exaggerated. The Harry in the photograph looked deliriously happy, waving and flashing wide smiles around at everybody present.
Hermione waited expectantly for the moment that hadn't failed to make her burst out laughing every time she watched.
The assembled group of people around Harry in the photograph were, as usual, looking increasingly uncomfortable.
Hermione was grinning stupidly with anticipation now and Harry, who had been watching her closely, felt the edges of his mouth twitch despite himself.
Hermione burst into laughter, almost sliding off her cushioned chair.
In the photograph, Harry was now mutely singing his heart out under the banner headline, "Potter Sings!"
The article underneath read, "Potter, who had been widely anticipated to deliver a speech endorsing the Ministry's actions in limiting the activities of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, instead treated the assembled reporters to several songs that have been interpreted as a slap in the face for the Minister for Magic. Potter's long time friend Ronald Weasley said, 'I had no idea he knew so many songs. He must really have practised hard.' …"
Of course, the Prophet didn't know that anyone impersonating the three of them after they had taken the Deceiver's Distillation, would suffer random and possibly irreversible mental side effects.
Hermione reluctantly put the paper down and returned Harry's smile.
"Well? I'm waiting," she said, returning to business.
"You know?" said Ron, speaking to Harry for the first time for ages. "I almost preferred the other Hermione. I wonder if a swap is in the offing?"
Harry began to laugh but stopped as soon as he caught Hermione's narrowing eyes.
"I still can't understand how she wasn't caught for so long. I mean, all she could say was one phrase, over and over again!" complained Hermione.
"Yeah," agreed Ron, "but since that phrase was I like homework, we didn't notice."
Harry snorted, but recovered quickly.
"No, I think the original is much better. How did you catch her in the end?"
"Oh, we were pretty suspicious right from the start, really."
"See, I told you, Harry," Hermione said smugly.
"Yeah, she kept leaving the toilet seat up," said Ron. Harry was pretty sure Ron was having them on, but a slight shiver still managed to go down his back.
"Hm," said Hermione. "Well, now that you're talking again, you might as well apologise."
A degree of frostiness once more descended. Hermione was undaunted.
"Harry?"
Harry re-folded his arms defiantly.
"Honestly," said Hermione in frustration. "I'm going to make a cup of tea. Don't expect me to make you any either."
She marched out of the room.
Harry stretched to make sure she wasn't still within earshot and then turned to Ron.
"Ron," he said quietly, unfolding his arms. "I am sorry I punched you. It was just what you said, after everything that had happened. I really didn't think we were going to make it out of there, and I knew Hermione would be gunning for me even if we did escape."
"No problem," said Ron with a smile. "I should have realised you were more than just a bit tense. Um, what did I say that started you off anyway?"
"It's really not important."
"No, go on."
"It was something to the effect that you were saying thanks for me returning Hermione to you."
Ron frowned.
"Well, I would have been out of order in that case, given what Hermione had told me. Actually, I really don't think I meant that. You see-"
Just then, Hermione came back into the room and Ron and Harry immediately assumed their previous stances. She turned, smiling to herself and placed a tray with three cups and saucers down in front of them.
"You were listening!"
*
Harry lowered the edition of the Evening Prophet to his lap before using it to gently waft a wasp away that had just become very interested in the crumbs on the plate next to him.
It was evening now and ahead of him, Hermione and her parents were taking a turn around the garden. Harry was pleased that they had at least a little more time before the Grangers went back into hiding.
Harry glanced down at the paper again.
The prominent article was a repeat of The Quibbler's extensive article about Alison and Jack, except the Prophet hadn't been so brave, choosing not to publish some of the post-mortem photographs. What they did publish extended to several pages, even so.
Harry knew that Jack was made to fight for his life, but it wasn't until he had read The Quibbler's article that it became clear why such surgery was carried out. He had assumed it was just a cruel and sick kind of experimentation.
It was, of course, precisely that; except it was experimentation for another purpose. The Quibbler speculated that the Healer responsible was attempting to create a better fighter for the Arena. Leg muscles were combined for greater agility, arms were opposed to hold more weapons and eyes were positioned to see behind.
Neither the The Quibbler nor the Evening Prophet had been prepared to name Ollivander as the Healer. Harry accepted that there wasn't enough proof, yet. Unfortunately, not even Ron had been able to positively identify Ollivander as the one to kidnap Hermione, even though he was the closest other than Harry.
Harry shuddered to think this was all in the name of entertainment for the Death Eaters.
The second front-page article was the announcement that the Hogwarts Governors had once again failed to agree upon the appointment of a new Headmaster or Headmistress. The Ministry had now insisted that an extraordinary public meeting be held, where concerned individuals could express their views to the Governors ahead of a final decision.
It sounded like the Ministry had a favoured candidate, and they would use the forum to promote them. He had no doubt that the meeting would be attended by many biased supporters.
Harry had been pleased to read that Professor McGonagall was still in the running, but she was still very much an outsider. It had also been announced that she had negotiated job guarantees for all of the existing staff members that wished to remain. Whilst this was good in that Voldemort's supporters would need longer to infiltrate the teaching positions, Harry wondered if she would have been better to spend more time campaigning on her own behalf. He was sure that if Voldemort wanted someone in a particular teaching position, an accident would befall the current holder anyway.
Harry had tentatively suggested that he was thinking about going along to the meeting and showing his support for Professor McGonagall. Hermione was way ahead of him, of course, and had that very morning presented him a speech that she had drafted.
He had read the speech from beginning to end, although he had decided he would not be using it from the second page. Quite apart from the fact that he'd probably need several hours to read the whole thing aloud, Harry knew he needed something more.
He had tried to explain this to Hermione, but since he didn't really know what the something more could be, she was less than impressed.
"Well, write your own speech then, Harry," she had said shortly, much to his concern.
"Harry's right, Hermione," Ron had said helpfully. "They'll be expecting a song and dance routine at the very least!"
*
Harry entered the packed Great Hall and stood by the doors. The assembled audience was listening with rapt attention as the last candidate, Torva, finished addressing the Governors.
The Hogwarts School Governors were sitting at what was normally the staff table. Sitting in Dumbledore's central high backed chair was an ancient looking wizard. In front of them Torva stood at a lectern.
To the side, Professor McGonagall sat stiffly and alone at the candidates' table. There were originally five candidates for the post vacated by Dumbledore, but now there were only two.
One candidate had two days earlier committed suicide and one had died in a rather nasty accident involving the Floo network. According to the news reports, around a hundred homes had been splattered with his diced remains. The third candidate had then withdrawn on grounds of ill health.
Chairman Clubber cleared his throat and said, in a wavy voice, "Thank you, Mr Torva for answering our questions."
Torva bowed to the Governors.
"Do you have anything else to add?" asked Clubber kindly.
"Most kind," said Torva with an excruciating false smile. Torva turned to address the audience with the airs of someone that knows he's already won the competition.
"I would first like to pay compliment to Professor McGonagall, the current Deputy Headmistress. Professor McGonagall's exemplary record speaks for itself, but I would like to acknowledge my personal admiration for her. She herself admitted earlier that it was her promise to Dumbledore that prompted her to apply for the post rather than any personal ambition."
Harry bristled with indignation, not least because at the mention of Dumbledore's name there had been several derisory murmurs around the hall.
Hermione placed a warning hand on his forearm.
Clubber was speaking again as Torva returned to the candidates' table.
"The Governors will now hear any views that anyone present wishes to make. I must warn you that any departure from the matter we are hear to consider will be treated most harshly at our discretion. Any derogatory personal remarks about any of the candidates and I will turn the offender into an item that I will personally plant in the greenhouses. The same goes for any hecklers."
These words appeared to have a sobering effect upon several members of the audience. At the front, several people with long speeches ready were rechecking their notes before standing up.
"The Chair recognises," said Clubber, pausing to take a deep breath, "Harry Potter."
Harry was just stunned, but Hermione shoved him forward.
As Harry walked uncertainly towards the front of the hall, the low hisses that accompanied him as he walked between the long House tables to him that most of the audience was hostile towards him.
He told himself, whilst avoiding several attempts to trip him up, that it was the Governors that mattered. Only they could actually appoint the new Head Teacher.
Ahead, someone shouted, "Give us a song, Potter!" to several laughs.
There was a soft pop and a large potato rolled out across his path.
Harry reached the lectern wishing he had written something down. He looked along the row of Governors, wondering if they dared to defy Voldemort. They looked even older and frail than they had when he was at the far end of the hall, but each had a sharp and alert look in their eyes.
"Mr Potter," said Clubber with a feeble wave of his hand.
"Um. Thank you," began Harry, his throat feeling suddenly very dry. "As you may know, Professor McGonagall has taught me for the last six years, and obviously I am very much in favour of her being appointed to the post of Headmistress.
"I'm afraid I know little about Mr Torva, but I'd like to bring something to your attention and leave it to you to decide whether it is relevant or not.
"You may have read that a few days ago a Death Eater camp was raided and several were captured and taken prisoner. What you may not have heard is that on that night I was present at the camp. A prominent feature was a large wheeled structure, the inside of which was an identical copy of this Great Hall.
"Actually," Harry added with a smile, "it was a rather poor copy. The enchantment of the ceiling was very poorly done. Really amateurish looking," he finished with a glance around at the barely concealed anger at his insulting Voldemort's work.
Harry decided to return from is aside, but felt the risk of his being transformed into a small vegetable well worth it.
"Anyway, before the structure was blown up, I sat in the single chair at the front of the hall."
Gasps were being audibly made behind him now.
"I sat down there for a particular reason. You see, I had to be sure."
Harry paused, waiting for the murmuring to die down.
"I witnessed some of the events that took place earlier in that hall, on the night of the Tenth of August. That night there was a celebration that, by the time I saw things, had descended into drunken debauchery.
"That night, Voldemort was in attendance and sitting in his seat at the head of the hall."
There were several angry cries at Harry's mention of Voldemort's name followed by several more soft popping noises, including one particularly close behind him as one protester has attempted to lunge at him.
"Now," continued Harry, "after a moment of particular levity, due to a Centaur having just been murdered in front of them, Voldemort had a good look around at his assembled guests."
Harry turned and faced the audience.
"They were all sitting at, or under, the four long tables just as you are this evening. Sitting almost at the end of the farthest table, I saw Mr Torva. He was wearing a green cloak that night with an elaborate matching hat. On one side of him was," Harry paused to point out a small outraged looking wizard, "this gentleman. Opposite on his over side was, um, someone who is now one of these vegetables."
Harry turned and walked over to Torva.
"This is outrageous!" cried Torva loudly. "I demand that either you provide proof of what you are saying, or the Governors take immediate action."
"Indeed," said Clubber. "Mr Potter, this is a serious allegation. Do you have any proof of these events?"
Harry smiled down at Torva for a long moment.
"On the night in question, Torva and his companions were extremely drunk."
"Ah!" cried Torva. "Everyone knows that I'm teetotal! Indeed, it would be irresponsible of any teacher to-"
"Oh, be quiet," said Clubber, sounding quite exasperated. "I've never trusted people that don't drink anyway. Continue Mr Potter, but please hurry."
"Well, Torva was trying to open another bottle, but was too drunk to hold his wand steady enough. His friend opposite, er, the vegetable, attempted to do it for him. The bottle exploded, and Torva's arm was singed. He looked too drunk to feel it though. Now, as this was a magical burn that didn't give him pain, I'm hoping that he didn't bother to have it fixed."
Torva was looking up at Harry with a horrified look on his face. From the moment Harry had mentioned the bottle, Torva's left hand had wandered over to his right forearm.
"Roll up your sleeve please, Mr Torva," asked Harry.
Torva was frozen.
"That won't be necessary."
Harry spun around furiously as Clubber continued. "This really isn't the place for such theatrics, Mr Potter. We ready to vote?"
Harry looked back at Torva who was now wearing a triumphant look. He reached for his wand but was stopped by a warning look from Professor McGonagall. Reluctantly, Harry allowed his arm to drop and he turned to watch the Governors.
Each held a hand up, just above the table, to indicate their vote.
"Unanimous," announced Clubber casually. Harry was sure he hadn't even looked at his Co-Governors to count the vote. Not that he had miscounted.
Clubber stood and the entire hall fell silent.
"I would remind everyone present that this is a school," he said, swaying slightly as he looked around. "We expect you to show dignity and respect to the losing candidate."
Torva was straightening his robes and nodding magnanimously. McGonagall looked quite lost in thought. Harry imagined she looked like she felt as if she had somehow let Dumbledore down.
"Indeed, we were rather encouraged to have the choice of two candidates with such excellent qualifications and references. Of course, it takes much more than years of teaching experience to be a successful head of the world's most prestigious wizarding school."
Harry had more or less stopped listening at this point. He looked across to the side door where Hermione and Ron had appeared. They had already agreed an exit strategy in the event that there was trouble.
"It therefore gives me great pleasure to announce that our new Head Teacher and Headmistress is Professor Minerva McGonagall."
It took Harry a moment to understand what had just happened.
There was a small cheer from inside the side room but the Great Hall remained in stunned silence.
McGonagall looked white in the face as Order members streamed out of the side room to quickly escort her away.
"This is outrageous!" cried Torva. "I will appeal!"
Harry thought he looked terrified of what Voldemort would do to him having failed to get the job.
"As you wish," said Clubber calmly. "Mind you, perhaps you should first consider getting some real qualifications and references from people who are still amongst the living. Unfortunately, there's little you can do about the small matter of that conviction a few years ago, is there?"
The audience was beginning to show signs of agitation now.
"You all have ten minutes to remove yourselves from the Hogwarts grounds. After that, we'll have even more for the pot."
These words had an immediate effect, and Harry was sure this was no idle threat.
*
When Harry managed to fight his way through the crowd to Professor McGonagall, she was being enthusiastically congratulated by Hermione.
"Hermione, we haven't won yet," she was saying. "I'm sure there will be several more attempts upon my life before term even starts."
"How many have there been?" Harry asked in alarm.
Professor McGonagall turned and smiled warmly at him.
"Don't worry, Harry. I'm well protected, and Sergeant Bateman has promised to look in occasionally as well."
Harry smiled and nodded.
"Thank you for your efforts this evening, by the way. For a moment though, I was afraid you were going to complain about all the lines and detentions I'd given you!"
Harry laughed and replied, "No, it was all the House Point deductions and homework I was going to complain about!"
Professor McGonagall smiled and nodded but was pulled away to be congratulated by a group Harry didn't recognised. He guessed they were old students of hers.
Hermione grabbed his arm and pulled him through the crowd until they were in the far corner, beside the great fireplace surround that dominated the room.
Harry found himself being greeted before he realised who was there. Sitting in two very long leather settees were Bateman's crew. Bateman himself was sitting in a large high backed leather easy chair. He alone looked comfortable, with the others looking around nervously at all the strange witches and wizards around them.
Hermione reappeared wearing a wide grin and carrying an armful of bottles. Ron was close behind her with a stack of glasses and several Fire Whiskey bottles.
*
Harry looked around the room. They were the last people still there; that he could see, anyway. He knew he'd had rather too much to drink and he wasn't entirely sure if he could now see better with, or without, his glasses.
Curled up at his side fast asleep was Hermione. She had wanted to turn in hours ago, but since the others decided that her bottle refills tasted much better than his or Ron's, she had to stay.
Harry brushed her hair away from her face and resumed listening to one of Duke's many anecdotes.
"So, for a long time I thought I'd got away with it. Then, I was visiting down in Level 7 for some reason I can't remember, when this moron gets into the same lift as me.
"It took him a while to recognise me, but he did eventually. Now, you see," he said, addressing Ron, "he's an Officer, so it takes them a bit longer for the brain to work things out.
"So he says, where's my tank?
"I says, what tank? Oh, that tank. Yeah, I swapped it.
"Swapped it? he says. What did you swap it for?
"I swapped it for a helicopter, I said, all innocent like.
"Now, it takes him a while to think this thing through, and I was almost out of the lift doors when he asks, so where's my helicopter, then?"
It was about this time that Harry realised his face and tongue had become numb with drink. He decided he should probably stop drinking now, so he drained the last of his glass and snuggled down. Hermione shifted and he rested his head gently against hers.
"What else could I say?" continued Duke grinning and swirling his drink expertly, "I told him, it got shot down," and then everybody except Harry and Hermione joined in, saying or slurring, "by the tank!"
END
*
AN:
Well, that's it for this one. Thanks for reading and reviewing.
I've decided to continue this story as a sequel rather than veer off at a tangent here. I'd better not promise it will be less confusing this way!
Part two of this story is called The Kemmynadow Betrayal:-
*
Summary of The Kemmynadow Betrayal
"He was a great wizard, Harry. I've always said so. The Kemmynadow curse is an ancient magic. There is no way I could defend myself against it and keep the bequest from you," said Voldemort lightly, "unless," he added in barely a whisper, "I somehow got you to betray it first. Oh, but Harry," he added with mock concern, "I'm keeping you from your friends."
*
The Introduction and Character Profiles chapter may be found here but you may prefer to go straight to the first story chapter "Dreams" here.
There is likely to be a third part at some point, but again that will be a new story.
-