Chapter 1 - Faces From the Past
Narcissa Malfoy was at her wits end as she approached the small cottage where she hoped the answer to her prayers lay. She had been awoken in the middle of the night by one of her house elves to be informed that her solicitor, Vladimir Blackhouse, had arrived and was demanding an audience. After hastily getting dressed, she and her husband had come downstairs to meet the grim faced lawyer and had been appalled at the tidings he brought.
Draco had been arrested for the murder of Cho Chang and was being held at the Ministry. Her shock at the news had been profound, but just as she thought that things could not get any worse, Blackhouse had dropped the next bombshell.
'I've spoken to the chief prosecutor for the Wizengamot. They hope to hold a trial within the next few days - he says they will be pushing for the ultimate punishment. He's confident that Draco will receive the Dementor's Kiss if found guilty. He doesn't expect it to take long either. We only have a few days.'
She had nearly passed out at hearing this news, but had listened intently as the lawyer had explained the circumstances of Draco's arrest.
'It seems a clear cut case, I don't hold out much hope,' he had said, much to his regret. He had then explained that many influential people were using the situation as leverage to settle some old scores against the Malfoy family as a whole. This at least she could understand; despite her betrayal of the Dark Lord, there were many who would never forgive the Malfoys for their actions in supporting him in the past. It seemed that Draco was to be the price exacted for their many misdemeanours.
But it didn't make sense to her. She knew Draco was no angel, but she also knew that he was not - could not be - a cold blooded killer. It just was not in his nature. She desperately sought to find some flaw in the story; some chink in the seemingly watertight case of the Ministry but she could find none. All she had was a mother's certainty that her son was innocent. She knew that this would not be sufficient to save Draco, but she was aware of a legal loophole that might. If nothing else, she should be able to buy her son some time.
This was why she was now standing at the front door of a cottage she had not visited in many, many, years. Such was the extent of her desperation she had been reduced to seeking assistance from the most unlikely sources. She took a deep breath before rapping on the door. It took a few moments for it to swing open and when it did, the reaction of the householder was one of shock.
'Hello, sister,' said Narcissa as she regarded the woman in front of her. For her part, Andromeda Tonks stood frozen in place for a few moments before gaining the presence of mind to react. Her eyes narrowed and her lips thinned.
'Narcissa,' she said, flatly. 'To what do I owe the honour of such a visit?'
'I need your help,' replied Narcissa. 'May I come in?'
Andromeda looked for a moment as if she might refuse the request, but then she relented and swung the door open wider to admit her sister. She turned her back and headed into her living room. Narcissa followed. When she arrived in the room her eyes were immediately drawn to a small boy playing in the corner. Despite her current predicament, she smiled.
'I presume this is Teddy?' she asked. Andromeda merely nodded, not in the mood for such small talk. 'Yes, it is. Now what do you want, sister?'
Narcissa was taken aback by the curt tone. She took a deep breath. 'I need your help, Andromeda. I need to know where Harry Potter is.'
Andromeda Tonks' eyes widened at these words and she grabbed the dresser she was standing next to for support. She took a moment to decide what to say.
'What makes you think I can help?' she asked, her voice betraying her discomfort. 'Why would you think I know where he is?'
'Because he is the Godfather of your grandson, that's why,' replied Narcissa, pointing to Teddy. 'Harry may have cut himself off from our world but I do not think he would completely sever all ties with a child. You know where he is. Tell me. Please?'
Andromeda's face darkened. 'I cannot. Harry instructed me to inform no one that I know where he is. I will not betray that trust. I think you should…'
'Do you know Uncle Harry?' asked a small voice. Both women turned to regard the small boy who looked on the visitor with a curious expression on his face. Narcissa approached him and crouched down to his level. He was a handsome child; there was a definite resemblance to her niece Nymphadora, although he had the eyes of his father.
'Not very well,' began Narcissa. 'I…helped him once, and now I need his help in return.'
'Well, if you helped Uncle Harry then you must be OK. Uncle Harry is cool,' replied Teddy. Narcissa smiled at the innocence of the child.
'He is,' she replied. 'He is cool. That is why I need his help.' She turned to her sister. 'You know what this is about; you know why I am here and why it has to be Harry. You know the law as well as I do. Can you tell me, please?'
Andromeda sighed. 'I heard about Draco. I'm sorry. I know what it is to lose people you love.' Her voice hardened. 'Your master made sure of that.'
Narcissa closed her eyes, feeling the hatred and anger of her own sister. She was well aware that the sins of the past often came back to haunt the present. 'I know, and I am sorry. So sorry I was ever involved with him. But Draco is the only person I truly love and he has not yet been taken from me. Can you help me? Please, sister, I beg you.'
Andromeda regarded her sister for a long moment, remembering the days when they had been close before their respective choices had torn them apart. She turned her attention to Teddy; he was all she had left now; all she had to sustain her through her days. Even after nearly six years, the pain of losing her husband and daughter was still raw and she realised with surprise that she did not want her sister to go through the same torment. Finally she nodded. She picked up a piece of parchment and a quill and scribbled down an address.
'God forgive me for this, Narcissa, because Harry definitely won't,' she said, handing the parchment over.
Narcissa didn't reply immediately. Instead, tears forming in her eyes, she took the parchment and embraced her sister. 'Thank you,' she said. 'You always were the better of the two of us.'
Andromeda didn't reply, instead she held her sister and wondered if she might not be so alone anymore. She just hoped Harry would understand and forgive her some day.
************
Harry Potter awoke with a groan and rolled over in order to turn his face away from the sunlight that streamed in through his small bedroom window. He glanced at his alarm clock, noticing without concern that most of the day had passed. Again. He grabbed his pillow and held it over his face for a few moments and willed himself to rise in order to face yet another day. Finally, he sat up and pulled back the sheets before swinging himself out of bed. Naked, he staggered to the miniscule bathroom and grasped blindly for the tap before splashing some cold water on his face. Grabbing a facecloth, he dabbed the moisture from his brow and regarded himself in the cracked mirror on the small cabinet above the sink.
He looked terrible.
Although only twenty three, Harry Potter looked much older than his years. At first glance, one might consider him a young man; he had a fine, athletic physique; indeed, he had filled out considerably since leaving the Wizarding world. His hair was long and unkempt and hung loosely down to his shoulders. But his face would deceive anyone attempting to guess his age. His features were drawn into what had become an almost permanent frown and as a consequence, deep lines marred his brow. His eyes - once so sparkling and vibrant - were lifeless and hinted at experiences of a much older man. It was the eyes that gave the lie to his true age; the eyes that made people keep a respectful distance from this morose, silent young man.
Harry sighed as he regarded himself. He was not aware of the effect his countenance had on people but he would not have cared if he had known. He knew he looked terrible and ruefully realised that it was probably because he felt terrible. He glanced back to his bed, noticing the empty bottles that lay strewn on the floor. Indeed, almost the entirety of his small one roomed apartment was littered with empty bottles and take away food cartons.
Fuck it, he thought to himself. He had been meaning to tidy up for weeks now, but never he never seemed able to get round to it. Instead, Harry Potter lived in his own filth and did not particularly care about that either. He opened the cabinet door and removed a pill bottle before unscrewing the lid and popping a few tablets into his mouth. It had become a morning ritual and it occurred to him that he needed to take more painkillers each morning in order to square himself up to face the day. Shuffling back into his room, he picked at a few of the discarded food cartons on the floor until he found the one he had been eating from last night. Thankfully, he found a slice of cold pizza within and began munching at it to take the edge off his hunger. He flipped on the TV and decided to see what was happening in the world. For Harry Potter, his daily routine had just begun.
***********
Narcissa Malfoy drew her cloak across her face as she ventured down the narrow street that led to the address that her sister had provided her with the previous day. It was located near the dockside in the town of Peterhead; a small port on the North East coast of Scotland that depended on the sea for its existence. It was a fishing community and the stench from the nearby harbour was testament to the maritime crop that provided sustenance to the hardy souls that eked out their living on this barren coast.
She's actually had to consult a map in order to discover the exact location of Harry Potter's chosen place of exile. To say that she had been astonished at the choice was something of an understatement. With the whole world to choose from, Potter had selected to spend his life as far from civilised society as it was possible to get. It did not occur to her that this was exactly why Harry Potter had ended up in Peterhead.
She regarded the dingy row of flats that lined both sides of the narrow street and had a sudden memory of the visit she and Bella had paid to Severus Snape all those years ago. This street had the same air of seediness about it and she made sure that she had a firm grip on her wand as she counted off the house numbers as she passed. The memory of Snape saddened her; she still could not believe that he had taken the Unbreakable Vow whilst knowing that he was working against the Dark Lord. It occurred to her too that she was the only one left alive from the little gathering in that filthy hovel. Severus, Bella and Pettigrew were all dead; only she survived from that fateful meeting. The Dark Lord had a lot to answer for.
She realised with a start that she had arrived at the apartment block where Andromeda had said Potter dwelt. Casting a quick glance around the empty street, she proceeded up the stairs until she reached the correct landing. She approached a warped wooden door, its red paint peeling badly. Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, she rapped on it firmly.
After what seemed like an age, it was swung open and Narcissa Malfoy found herself looking at a face she had not seen in nearly six years. Harry Potter had changed much in that time for it was no longer a slight schoolboy who stood before her; instead, it was a young man old before his years, clad only in a pair of jeans, who regarded her with a look of astonishment on his face. The look quickly vanished, however, changing to one of distaste and anger.
'I'm going to kill Andromeda when I see her,' he growled.
'Don't blame my sister. She only told me because she knows how much I needed to speak to you.'
Harry sneered at her and moved to slam the door in her face but Narcissa had anticipated him and thrust her foot into the jam.
'What the fuck do you want?' snarled Harry. 'Move your foot before I break your fucking leg.'
Narcissa concealed her shock at the coarse words and the overt threat. Instead, still gripping her wand tightly, she looked him in directly in the eye. 'Please, Harry. I need your help.' She found herself wanting to turn away from his stare such was the pain and hatred in his eyes. Despite this, she held his gaze and was surprised when Harry broke eye contact first. He looked as if he was considering his next move.
'Why should I help you?' he finally asked. 'What could you possibly want from me? I get people killed, remember?'
He had tried to sound contemptuous - even defiant - but to Narcissa, he sounded like a lost child.
'It's not me that needs your help. It's Draco. Please. Can I come in and explain?' She saw him consider his words for a moment and was certain that he was about to refuse. 'I helped you once, remember,' she added quietly.
Harry laughed at this; laughed bitterly and scornfully. 'Helped me?' he sneered. 'You weren't helping me; you were only trying to save the skin of that worthless son of yours. Had Draco not been in danger you would have denounced me to Voldemort, so don't you dare try to play that card. I owe you nothing, Narcissa; I repaid that debt that same night. Draco is alive because of me.'
'I know, but they are after him again. That is why I am here; our enemies are going to take him away from me!' her voice broke as she said this and something of her distress penetrated the wall that Harry had built up around himself. He regarded her for a long moment before turning and heading into his room. He left the door open at his back and Narcissa followed him in.
She tried to hide her distaste as she took in her surroundings. The tiny room was filthy with empty spirit bottles and food cartons littering the floor. She watched as Harry slumped onto his bed and regarded her, not saying a word or asking if she wanted anything. Casting her glance around, she noticed a solitary chair by the window and decided to take a seat unbidden. Harry merely sat staring at her, his arms folded across his chest. Clearly it was up to her to begin the conversation. Not knowing how to begin, she instead placed her hand in her robes and removed a copy of the Daily Prophet before handing it to him. He regarded the newspaper with obvious distaste, but read the front page article anyway, his eye drawn to the lurid headline.
Malfoy Heir Faces Kiss- Exclusive by Rita Skeeter
It took him a few minutes to read the article in full and she thought he saw a flash of regret on his otherwise hard features. Once finished he regarded her with a look of confusion. This was quickly replaced with contempt, however.
'So,' he began, 'Draco is about to get his just desserts, is he? Well, that's what happens when you go around murdering women, I suppose.' He paused for a moment. 'So what exactly is it you want from me Narcissa? To break him out of prison?' he asked scornfully.
'Draco is innocent!' exclaimed Narcissa. 'You know as well as I do that he is not capable of murder!' She calmed herself with an effort before continuing. 'He has been framed, I am certain of it.'
'Framed? And who exactly would want to frame Draco?' Harry noticed Narcissa raise her eyebrow at this and reconsidered his own question. He laughed bitterly. 'Fair enough; maybe it would be easier to ask who wouldn't want to see a Malfoy in trouble. OK, supposing I accept that he has been framed; what do you expect me to do about it?'
'They are threatening to perform the Kiss on him; it is not enough for our enemies to see him in prison or even killed. It is the Kiss that they want.'
'So?' asked Harry.
'So I can buy him some time because of this.' She noticed by the expression on his face that Harry had no idea what she was talking about. This was hardly surprising; hardly anyone knew the law in detail in such matters. She sighed. 'When the Prosecution demand that someone be Kissed, the Defence are permitted to appoint an independent investigator to ascertain the facts. Because the punishment is so severe, every effort is made to ensure guilt. I can postpone his trial by seven days in order to conduct my own investigation. It is an old law, but it still exists.'
'Why seven days?' asked Harry.
'You know the number seven is a powerful symbol in our world.'
'In your world, maybe. It means nothing to me anymore. I'll ask you again; what do you expect me to do about it?'
'I want you to be Draco's investigator.'
Silence greeted these words; a silence that seemingly stretched into perpetuity as Narcissa sat calmly and watched the shocked reaction of Harry Potter. Finally, he laughed.
'Me? Why the fuck would you want me? I have left your world, remember? I want nothing to do with it and I certainly won't be drawn back in for the sake of Draco Malfoy.'
'I want you because I think you are the only person who can help.' She licked her lips as she considered what to say next. 'The law on this is quite archaic, but it is the law. The investigator must be an active law enforcement officer of good standing. I understand that you have never officially resigned, nor have the Ministry actually dismissed you. There is not a single other Auror who would be willing to take the case on. You are my last hope.'
Harry sneered at her words. 'I don't think I have a particularly "good standing" in the magical world, do you? I was blamed for Ron's death and publicly censured.' Pain crossed Harry's face as he said this. 'Don't you think that prevents me from taking the position - if I wanted it, that is?'
'No, it doesn't. You were not dismissed; only reprimanded. Also, your previous history: your achievements against the Dark Lord. These more than make up for one single reprimand on your record. There is no way the Prosecution could refuse your appointment.'
Harry shrugged. 'It doesn't matter anyway. I have finished with magic; it's why I am here. There is nothing that I would want to return for.'
Narcissa thought she detected a hint of doubt in his words, but this was not the time for idle speculation. Instead, she played her final card.
'Harry, there are people out to get my family and they have targeted my son in order to do so. Now, I know that you have no love for the Malfoy name, but I would ask you to consider the real questions here.'
'And what would they be?'
'You know, deep down, that Draco would not have been capable of murdering this girl - he couldn't even kill Dumbledore when he had the chance. If you accept this fact, then you must accept that he has been framed.'
'And?'
Narcissa sighed. 'And if he has indeed been framed, then there exists a conspiracy against my family. Someone is out to get us and so the bigger questions are "who?" and "why?" My family played a small part in the demise of the Dark Lord and we were not punished by the Ministry for previous sins. Has it occurred to you that the Malfoys may not be the only victims of a revenge plot? That perhaps you and Ron Weasley were targets too? You both played a far greater role in the Dark Lord's fall than the Malfoys. If they have come after us, isn't it possible that they went after you too?'
Harry's eyes narrowed dangerously at these words. 'How dare you,' he said. 'How dare you try to drag Ron into this. He died because of my stupidity, not because of any conspiracy.'
'Whether you were at fault or not is irrelevant. Someone did lay the trap that killed Ron Weasley. It might just as easily have been you that was killed. Are you telling me that you have no desire to find out who murdered your friend?' Narcissa's voice was scathing as she said this.
'Ron has nothing to do with this!'
'Probably not,' conceded Narcissa. 'But there might be a connection. Is that not something worth pursuing? Do you not think that you might better honour your friend's death by helping me now? Is this the life Ron would have wanted for you, Harry?' she asked, sweeping her arm around the soiled room. She did not give him time to finish. 'I believe Draco has been framed. If this is true, then a conspiracy exists. If I were you, I would wonder if Ron's death was simply a case of terrorism and murder, or whether it was something more sinister.' She paused for a moment, her voice breaking. 'I beg you, Harry; please help me. My son is all that I live for; I could not bear it if he were to be taken from me.'
Narcissa looked beseechingly at the young man before him and inwardly prayed that he would do the right thing. She watched as he averted his gaze from her, but she could tell from his expression that his mind was churning at her words. After what seemed like an age, Harry Potter finally turned from his thoughts to face her.
He nodded.
***********
Hermione Granger leaned back in her chair and took a deep breath as she tried to make herself more comfortable. She had just enjoyed a lavish meal courtesy of the Weasleys and as usual she had eaten more than she should have done thanks mainly to the promptings of Molly. It was the first Sunday of the month and as a result she was enjoying dinner at the Burrow; a family tradition that had started not long after Voldemort's demise and one that was continued, despite Ron's death. As Molly had said; 'you will always be considered part of this family, dear - you and Harry - whatever happens.' Only now there existed a number of vacant places at the Weasley table. Ron and Harry were no longer a part of the tradition and, of course, the absence of Fred was still something that the family had to deal with. Molly and Arthur had lost two children and the grief of this was still evident sometimes. Hermione was also aware that part of that grief was for Harry; grief for the boy they had virtually adopted and who was no longer a part of their lives. None of the Weasleys blamed Harry for Ron's death; Hermione knew this but frustratingly there was no way to let Harry know of this truth.
She glanced up as Ginny approached with a glass of wine in each hand.
'Care to join me?' she asked. 'Mum's cooking is great, but she does tend to overdo it. I find a cold glass of wine and a comfy chair help to settle the stomach,' she added with a wink.
Hermione smiled and joined her friend in the sitting room. She curled up on the couch and regarded her friend as she accepted the glass of wine. Ginny had recovered well from the events of last summer. Whilst it was true that she was not as carefree as before, she had adapted to the loss of her brother and fiancé. It was not that she did not miss both Ron and Harry. Neither was it the case that she did not want to see Harry return either. Rather, it was because she had accepted that Harry was not to blame for Ron's death and had realised that the past could not be changed. Ginny had went through a very similar process to Hermione last year; first overwhelming grief for the loss of Ron and then all-consuming guilt for the harsh words spoken to Harry. That these words were borne out of emotion and not meant did not matter. They had been said and had been enough to send Harry away. Ginny had accepted that there was nothing to be done about it now, save hope that he might one day return. She did not involve herself in the search for him however, believing instead that he would come back if and when he wanted to. She was of the opinion that if Harry wanted to remain hidden then not even the exertions of Hermione Granger would be enough to track him down. So far, she had been proven correct.
'How are things?' Ginny asked. 'Been up to anything?'
Hermione smiled, knowing the path the conversation was about to take. It had become something of a little tradition between them. 'Not bad,' she replied. 'I'm being kept busy at work so that helps to keep me going. We have a new project about to commence soon.'
Ginny smiled slyly. 'I wasn't talking about your work, Hermione. Have you been up to anything apart from work?'
Hermione blushed. 'Well, I have arranged to have a few more adverts placed in the newspapers about Harry. I still believe that there is a chance he will come across one of them.'
Ginny shook her head as she regarded her friend. 'You really need to let go, Hermione. Harry's gone; he will come back when he wants to, not before and not because he reads his name in the newspaper. You need to move on. I mean; when was the last time you were out on a date?'
Hermione's eyes flashed dangerously at this question. 'You know fine well, Ginny. With your brother, just before he was killed, remember?' She had meant to wound, but Ginny did not seem too perturbed.
'Exactly. It has been nearly a year, Hermione. It was Ron who died that day, not you. You still have your life to live; immersing yourself in work and fruitless searches for Harry is no sort of life. You need to move on.'
Hermione hated her friend at that moment. Hated her because she was well aware that Ginny was correct. The problem was that she was too scared to move on. Ron and Harry had been her life; she'd had one cruelly snatched from her and she still felt responsible for driving the other away. To 'move on,' as Ginny put it, seemed to her like a betrayal of both men. To date someone else seemed to her like spitting on Ron's memory and to give up the search for Harry would mean accepting that she could never make amends for her mistake. How could she move on?
Ginny regarded her friend, knowing that she had pushed her too hard today. She decided to change the subject. 'Anyway,' she said in an affected voice, 'what do you make of the Malfoy case? Isn't it terrible? Poor Cho! Do you think he did it?'
Hermione was grateful for the change of topic. She smiled, despite the seriousness of the questions. Ginny was a gossip whore and the Malfoy case was without doubt the biggest story since the death of Voldemort.
'I don't know what to answer first!' She protested. 'I still can't believe that Cho Chang is dead, poor woman. I never saw eye to eye with her, but…' she left the rest unsaid.
'Yeah, I know. You wouldn't wish that on your worst enemy. I still can't believe Draco could do such a thing.'
Hermione nodded. 'I know. In fact, I have serious doubts that he did do it.'
'But the evidence seems overwhelming. The Prophet must have a good source amongst the Aurors; they seem to know exactly what happened.'
'That's the point,' replied Hermione. 'It just seems to neat; too pat. Draco may be a lot of things, but he's not a murderer. Or a fool. Do you really thing he would allow himself to be caught like that?'
'He says he can't remember anything,' said Ginny, ignoring Hermione's questions. 'Convenient isn't it? I think he has selective amnesia.'
'Or someone performed a memory charm on him,' replied Hermione.
Ginny shook her head. 'No, they tested him to see if any spells had been cast on him. There was no trace of any wand work; there were no magical signatures in the room either. It looks like a pretty open and shut case. Did you hear that the Prosecution want him Kissed?'
Hermione nodded, shuddering at the thought. No matter what he had done, Draco Malfoy did not deserve that fate. No one did. 'Yes, it would appear that a lot of old scores are being settled against the Malfoys. They have the worst of both worlds; people on our side hate them for what they did as Death Eaters and Voldemort's old supporters hate them for betraying their master. I wouldn't be in their shoes for all the gold in Gringotts.'
Ginny nodded her agreement. 'Well, the trial is due to start tomorrow and the Prophet says it should be a quick one. Unless the Malfoys can pull something out of their shoes soon, Draco is for the chop. I wonder what made him do it.'
'Who knows?' replied Hermione. 'Maybe it will come out at the trial tomorrow. One's thing for sure; the Malfoys won't take this lying down. They will throw every penny they have at the case. Money can only get you so far though; I don't think they can buy their way out of this one. It is going to be interesting to see what they will do,' she added.
Ginny thought about this, wondering just how much more interesting things could possibly get.