chapter 12 - secrets drarry

Chapter Twelve

Harry muttered the incantations that would allow Narcissa to enter the property, then stalked up to the Dursley's house with Draco and an invisible Narcissa following him. He continued to mutter and curse under his breath, trying to figure out how he'd gotten himself into this situation.

Narcissa took the cloak off as soon as she was inside the house, which was unfortunate as Petunia stepped out of the kitchen to see who was entering.

"Harry?" Petunia questioned.

"This is Malfoy's mum," Harry said shortly. The situation was far too bizarre to even contemplate normal introductions. He snorted in bitter amusement as he watched the two women glaring distastefully at each other.

"You two have something in common," he said maliciously. "You both raised spoiled sons who took great pleasure in tormenting me my entire childhood. You should be congratulating each other on a job well done."

"Potter!" Draco hissed, as both women stared at him in shock.

Harry closed his eyes briefly and took a deep breath, thinking he might have spent too long around Snape that afternoon. "Sorry," he mumbled.

"Your uncle will be home soon," Petunia said stiffly.

"Lovely," Harry muttered, turning and heading up the stairs. He entered his room and dropped down on his bed with the intention of leaving Draco to introduce Victoria to her grandmother.

It didn't quite work out that way as Draco and Narcissa froze just inside the room, Fawkes capturing their attention. Harry had to admit, Fawkes was an impressive bird, but he looked completely out of place in Harry's room. Winky quietly shut the door and brought Victoria to Harry before moving back to sit on her small cot in the corner.

Draco finally tore his gaze from Fawkes to stare at Harry. "Where the fucking hell did you get a phoenix?" he asked.

"He was Dumbledore's," Harry answered. "He seems to be mine now."

"There appears to be more to you than I realized," Narcissa said, looking at Harry in amazement.

Harry shrugged off her words, but she didn't seem willing to accept that.

"Mr. Potter, phoenixes will only bond to a very powerful wizard," Narcissa said.

Harry shrugged again. He was pretty sure Hermione had said something to that effect. He'd been told he was powerful before, but he wasn't sure how much that really meant. He was not quite seventeen yet and still had another year of schooling. It wasn't like he was real spectacular or something. Besides, it wasn't something he felt like talking to Narcissa Malfoy about.

"Don't you care, Potter?" Draco asked incredulously as Harry remained silent.

"Care about what?" Harry asked. "Fawkes is only with me because Dumbledore left him to me, or however that works. He's with me because I'm the icon of the Light," he said sarcastically. "It has very little to do with my abilities as a wizard."

Fawkes let out a trill that sounded like a reprimand, and Harry wondered how the phoenix managed that, or if he was just hearing things. "Sorry, Fawkes," he said anyway.

Draco let out a laugh that sounded a touch hysterical. He turned to his mum. "See what I mean?" he asked.

Narcissa nodded slowly. "He is not what I expected," she said.

"I don't know what you two are talking about, but I am right here," Harry said irritably.

"Having another bad day, Potter?" Draco asked, smirking at Harry in amusement.

"You could say that," Harry muttered.

"You know, your manners leave much to be desired," Draco said, pulling out the desk chair, the only chair in the room, for his mum.

Harry snorted. "Forgive me for having trouble grasping the reality of entertaining Death Eaters in my room at the Dursley's house," he said sarcastically. "I'm afraid it's not within my realm of experience. I've got no less than three Malfoys in my room," he said, shaking his head at that realization.

"Here," he said, holding up Victoria for Draco to take her. "Introduce Victoria to her grandmother."

Narcissa hadn't exactly been as cold as Harry remembered her, but he watched as she visibly softened as Draco handed Victoria to her. Victoria didn't seem too sure of the stranger, so Draco held her but stayed close to his mum's side. Harry watched wistfully for a few minutes as Narcissa cooed at the baby, Draco animatedly telling his mum all about her.

Feeling like he was intruding, Harry lay back on his bed and closed his eyes, trying to tune them out. He had to forcefully remind himself that Victoria wasn't his. They were the ones who were a family. He was just someone trying to provide care and protection for awhile.

Harry stood suddenly and kept his gaze averted as he left the room. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs, realizing from the voices he heard in the kitchen that his uncle and cousin were home. He could hear them telling Petunia all about their day as they ate dinner.

Harry hadn't felt so alone in a long, long time. As if in a trance, he walked around the side of the staircase and silently opened the cupboard door. He stared inside the small space, realizing his old cot was still shoved in the corner. Stepping inside, he tugged at a small section of the wall. It pulled away, and Harry shoved his hand in, pulling out a stack of paper.

"Potter?"

Harry whirled, banging his head hard on one of the overhead steps in the process. Wincing, he glared at Draco.

"What are you doing in here?" Draco asked, glancing around the small cupboard, eyes lingering on the cot and the hole in the wall.

"Nothing," Harry hissed angrily. "Get out of here before my uncle catches us."

Harry pushed Draco out of the way, stepped out and quietly shut the door before heading back upstairs, extremely thankful they hadn't attracted his uncle's attention.

Draco was right behind him when he entered his room. "What are those papers?" Draco demanded.

"They're nothing," Harry snapped, opening his trunk and stuffing them inside.

"They're obviously something," Draco retorted.

"No, they're exactly that. They're nothing," Harry said bitterly.

"Potter, what are they?" Draco demanded.

"Just shut up, Malfoy!" Harry shouted angrily. "Maybe those damned papers are the reason I'm fucking doing everything I can to fucking help you! Now, if you want me to help you, then just leave it!"

"That used to be your room, wasn't it?" Draco asked, ignoring Harry's warning.

Harry glared furiously. "It's none of your fucking business," he said coldly.

Draco was glaring back at him and it was eerily similar to their old standoffs. Only normally there weren't any babies crying in the background. Harry suddenly whirled and realized Narcissa was holding an extremely upset Victoria. Draco stalked over and took her from his mother, then handed her abruptly to Harry.

Harry took Victoria automatically and started bouncing her, even as he looked at Draco questioningly. "You can always calm her down," Draco said, shrugging.

Harry sighed, feeling some of the anger drain away as he started talking soothingly to Victoria, getting her to quiet down again. He sat down on the bed, leaning against the headboard, Victoria cradled on his chest.

Between the knock on his head and the stress, his head was aching and he was sure it was only going to get worse. He realized that he wasn't exactly leaving Narcissa with a very good impression. Insulting her by comparing her to a Muggle, fighting with her son, and making her granddaughter cry couldn't be helping to convince her to switch sides.

"Potter, you're dripping blood," Draco said.

"Am I?" Harry asked, uncaring. "Then that would explain why my head hurts."

"You slammed it pretty hard," Draco said, sounding concerned.

Harry snorted. "It's not the first time, nor will it be the last," he said.

"Let me look at it," Narcissa said softly.

Harry looked at her warily, but sat up and turned slightly. He felt her hands gently probing the edges of the wound. "I don't believe it's too serious. May I heal it for you?" she asked.

Harry closed his eyes. Did he trust this woman pointing a wand at his head? "If you would," he said.

He felt an odd tingling around the wound as she cast the same spell that Snape had taught Harry.

"I can cast a cleaning spell in a few minutes when it's healed completely," Narcissa said.

"Thanks," Harry muttered. He glanced at Draco and realized the other boy was giving him a strange look. "What?" he asked defensively.

"How can you sit there so calmly and just let my mum heal you like that?" Draco asked.

"I'm not calm," Harry retorted. "I've just got enough trouble trying to make sense out of everything without dealing with a massive headache as well. Since your mum healed me instead of trying to kill me, I gain two things. One, I can hopefully think again soon without my head trying to explode. Two, I've learned I've at least got a shot at trusting her since she managed to restrain herself from cursing me."

"That's a fucked up way of trying to figure things out," Draco said.

"Agreed," Harry said. "It's not a method I'd use with just anyone, though. There's no way I'm letting your aunt anywhere near me with a wand if I have any say in the matter."

"Probably a wise decision," Draco admitted.

"Mr. Potter, you have nothing to fear from me," Narcissa said quietly. "And you seem to realize that already."

She stepped forward again, checking Harry's head before casting a couple of spells to clean up the blood from his hair. She ran her fingers through Harry's hair one more time, checking that he was healed completely and all the blood was gone. "You're healed, but a Pain-Relieving Potion for the actual headache would help tremendously," Narcissa said.

"I'm out of them," Harry mumbled. "Still feels better, though."

Draco reached into his pocket and pulled out a couple vials, passing one of them to Harry. "Here. I snagged a few potions earlier," he admitted, glancing warily at his mum. "You didn't seem to have any more than what you used for me."

Figuring Draco had snagged from Snape like he himself had, Harry pulled the stopper and drank down the contents gratefully, immediately feeling the potion starting to work its magic, literally.

"Draco explained to me how you healed him," Narcissa said.

Harry shrugged. "Yeah, it wasn't really a big deal," he said uncomfortably. "It was just a flesh wound."

Narcissa glanced knowingly at her son, before looking back at Harry. "After what I just witnessed, I do believe that you and Draco have different ideas of what constitutes a 'big deal'," she said.

Harry quirked a grin at Draco. "Maybe," Harry agreed, enjoying seeing Draco scowl at his mother.

"I find it interesting that you say it was a simple wound, yet in the middle of the night, sought out healing spells and potions," Narcissa added, effectively wiping the grin from Harry's face.

"Look, I had to be out anyway," Harry said. "I just picked up what I needed from Hogwarts to be able to help him when I got back."

"From what I understand, you've been helping Draco regularly for the last month," Narcissa said.

"Mrs. Malfoy, I'm really not in the mood to go through another Malfoy talk," Harry said wearily. "If you could just try getting to the point for me, I'd appreciate it. It's already been a long day, and I still have a lot to do."

Narcissa's brows arched in surprise and she smiled slightly. "You are not exactly the type to woo others over to your side, are you?"

"No, I'm not," Harry said seriously. "What you do, is up to you. I'm not about to try to take that choice away from you, much as I'd like to," he admitted. "What I will do, is offer you whatever protection I possibly can if you do decide to switch sides."

Narcissa glanced at her granddaughter, then her son. "You have helped Draco, even without him switching sides," she said quietly.

Harry hugged the now sleeping Victoria tighter to his chest. "Victoria needs her father," he said softly. "I'd rather not let this war take any more children from their parents if I can do anything to prevent it."

His eyes strayed to his trunk of their own accord. He lifted his gaze hurriedly only to be caught by Draco. Harry's chest hurt, and it had nothing to do with Victoria resting on him. Draco slowly moved towards Harry's trunk, and Harry felt powerless to stop him. He knew that technically he could, but he just seemed to have lost his will to fight.

Narcissa lifted Victoria from his arms and laid her down in her cot, and Harry just let it happen. Draco lifted the stack of papers and handed them to Harry.

Harry accepted them with shaking hands and began flipping through them. He hadn't lied to Draco. They were nothing. They were simply a child's drawings, drawn with colour crayons. Mostly stick figures, none of them at all good in an artistic sense.

But once upon a time, they were Harry's pictures of his family. He spent a lot of time with those drawings, because he had no real family to spend time with. He'd grown up and long ago had forgotten about them, as they were just childish fantasy.

Most of the pictures were bright and colourful. Harry and his parents. A few even that Harry knew were supposed to represent him and the Dursleys. Pictures with happy smiles and bright yellow suns. The last picture was the same as the others, but Harry had taken a black crayon and scribbled out all of the other people. He'd drawn a slashing frown on his own stick figure face. He was left standing alone, surrounded by darkness.

It obviously hadn't been one of his better days.

Harry's expression hardened and he tossed the stack at Draco. "You wanted to see what they were so bad," he said harshly. "Take a look. That was my little fantasy family that I kept hidden away for me alone. I'd forgotten about those drawings. Long before I moved out of my cupboard, I'd given up on the idea that I'd ever belong to a real family."

Harry glared at Narcissa. "I honestly meant what I said. It's your choice what you do. I just hope you make the right fucking choice for your family."

"Believe me when I say there've been moments in the last six years since I found out about the Wizarding world, when I've wondered if my parents made the right choice. If they'd been supporters of Voldemort, would they have been alive today? Would I have grown up in a real family being spoiled rotten like your son?" Harry asked, his voice harsh with barely suppressed anger.

Narcissa and Draco were staring at him in shock. "Oh, believe me," Harry said. "This isn't something I've ever mentioned to anyone else. It's not something I'm proud of thinking, and I admit, it's not actually something I've thought about long. Ultimately, I'm proud of the choice my parents made. But that doesn't stop the longing."

He heaved in a shuddering breath. "My point is this. Think damned hard about what you really want. I can't make you any promises. I know damned good and well that I'm only a sixteen-year-old boy. Voldemort's far older and far more experienced. He's got a hell of a lot going for him at the moment. Your family has been able to survive so far and at the moment you are still on Voldemort's good side. If you feel your chances of survival are better by staying with him, then do it."

Harry finally stood and walked to the door, before turning to glare at them both coldly. "But I'll tell you this. I don't intend to fucking lose this war."

He stormed out of the house, not knowing or caring where he was going. He was angry and confused. And he knew he'd handled that incredibly badly. Finding himself at a good place to Apparate, he went to Grimmauld Place, hoping like hell that Snape was gone by now.

He slammed the door on his way in, forgetting about Sirius' mum hanging on the wall until she started her shrieking. Instead of trying to shut her up, Harry matched her insult for insult, shouting at the portrait. When that failed to satisfy him, he drew his wand and started firing every curse he could think of at her. She simply shrieked louder.

Harry's rage at the unfairness of the world simply seemed to build. The fact that nothing harmed the portrait made him even angrier. He wanted to do damage.

"You filthy, evil creature! Vile scum!" Mrs. Black screeched.

"Evil?!" Harry shouted. "I'm not the one trying to destroy the world!" And he fired another curse at the portrait.

"Desist filthy half-breed!"

"Fuck you!" Harry yelled. "And your bloody idiotic prejudices!"

"You dare befoul the house of my fathers!"

"Your fathers?!" Harry spat. "Are fathers only good in pureblood families?"

"Levicorpus!"

"I gather my father liked that spell! He was a bastard! He was a bastard but he still fucking loved me! I know he did!" Harry shouted.

"By-product of dirt and vileness!"

"Shut up!" Harry shouted furiously. "Sectumsempra!"

"Dark Arts! Darks Arts again in the House of Black!" Mrs. Black shrieked, but she sounded excited this time.

"Who bloody cares?" Harry shouted. "It's just a fucking spell! It doesn't even do any damage to you!" he added bitterly.

"Crucio!"

"Not a bit of damage, but you make excellent target practice," Harry sneered. "Bellatrix says I've got to really mean the curse. I want Voldemort gone so fucking bad, I have no worries about meaning it. I certainly don't intend to make Dark Arts my next hobby, but you know, I better fucking learn them at some point!" he shouted. "I've got to fucking kill Voldemort. You hear that, bitch?"

"No, no! Filthy half-breed begone!"

"Avada Kedavra!" Harry shouted. He watched in shock as the portrait tumbled to the floor in front of him. Stumbling back, he fell against the opposite wall and slid down it in disbelief. Mrs. Black was still shouting, but the sound was muffled now as her portrait was face down on the floor.

Hearing a sound, he looked up startled and wide-eyed as Snape stepped out into the open.

"It would seem that you have uncovered the key to the sticking charms in this house," Snape said conversationally. "It was unlikely any of those they saw as the wrong sort would ever fire a Killing Curse, particularly at a portrait."

Harry stumbled to his feet, hand over his mouth, and bolted for the loo. He proceeded to empty the contents of his stomach and by the time he was through he felt like he had vomited his actual stomach as well. He rinsed his mouth and stumbled to the kitchen, sitting down heavily in one of the chairs.

"Drink this," Snape ordered, setting a cup of tea in front of Harry. Harry wasn't sure he dared ask what Snape had added to it. Taking a tentative sip, he decided it tasted all right at least.

"That was quite an impressive display," Snape said.

"I didn't realize you were still here," Harry said weakly.

"Would it have made any difference?" Snape questioned.

Harry thought about that for a moment while he drank another sip of his tea. "Probably not," he finally admitted. "But I was angry and came here because I thought I'd be alone."

"When you received your message earlier, you were muttering about 'killing him'," Snape said evenly.

Harry's eyes widened to saucers. "I didn't. I just . . . oh gods," he said weakly. "I've just cast the Killing Curse."

"Successfully," Snape agreed.

"I could've killed someone," Harry said, feeling his stomach churning again. He glanced down into his teacup, sure that whatever was in it was the only reason he wasn't running to the loo again.

"If you had been aiming at a person rather than a portrait, they would have been dead now," Snape said.

Harry swallowed heavily.

"I have again underestimated you, Potter," Snape said, staring at Harry calculatingly. "Until a short time ago, I have never truly believed you capable of being able to win this war."

"You believe it now?" Harry managed to croak out.

Snape nodded once. "I have only seen one other driven as much as you," he said quietly.

With sudden insight, Harry stared. "You," he said faintly.

"Me," Snape agreed.

* * * * *

Harry dazedly let himself back into the Dursley's house and climbed the stairs to his room. Snape had ordered him to finish his tea and then sent him home to rest until the morning.

He hadn't protested.

He stepped into his room and blinked in confusion for a moment. He'd somehow forgotten about his full room. Draco, Narcissa, Victoria, Winky, Hedwig and Fawkes all turned to look at him when he entered.

"Potter? You all right?" Draco asked, looking at him with concern.

Harry slowly met his gaze. "Not really," he admitted.

Bemused, he allowed Narcissa to hustle him over to his bed. He looked at her with a bit of alarm when she sat down beside him and wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

"What happened?" Narcissa asked.

Her question dropped him immediately back into his swirling concerns regarding the fact that he'd managed to cast the Killing Curse. He didn't realize that he lost what little colour he'd regained.

"Have you ever successfully cast the Killing Curse?" Harry asked Draco abruptly, and watched him turn white.

"No," Draco said, voice barely audible. "You have to mean it."

Harry nodded absently.

"Did you kill someone, Mr. Potter?" Narcissa asked evenly.

Harry grimaced, giving her a sidelong glance. Both Narcissa and Snape had managed to calmly ask him that same basic question and he found it a little disturbing. He answered her anyway.

"Just a portrait," he said. "But the casting was successful. It was enough to get her off the wall."

"She's finally off the wall?" Narcissa asked in amazement, clearly knowing what portrait Harry was referring to. "I didn't think it was possible."

Draco looked at her sharply, but Harry managed a slight smirk. "Everyone tried, but she was still stuck there." He sobered. "I wasn't even trying to get her down," he said softly.

He looked at Narcissa. "I slammed the door and woke her up. I was just fighting with her because she wouldn't shut up. And we were both shouting, and I started casting curses. It wasn't like I was hurting anybody. And we fought about the Dark Arts and I just . . . I just ending up casting the Killing Curse and she was down."

He unconsciously leaned into Narcissa, accepting the comfort she seemed to be offering. "I know I have to kill to end this war. It was just a bit of a shock to say the words and know that I meant them," he said.

There was a knock at the door and Harry sighed heavily. "What now?" he muttered, but he stood to answer the door.

Aunt Petunia was about to speak to Harry when her eyes lit upon Harry's fully occupied room. It took her a moment to shake off her shock before she stared at Harry again. "You have a visitor. I've refused to let him in the house, but he still insists that he must see you. He said he's the Minister of some sort," she informed.

"Scrimgeour?!" Harry exclaimed.

Petunia nodded. "That was it," she said.

"Oh, fuck!" Harry cursed angrily. "What the bloody hell does he want with me now?" He turned to glance at Draco and Narcissa, who both looked shocked and angry at being betrayed.

"I haven't turned you in," Harry hissed. "I don't know why he's here."

Harry turned to Petunia. "Keep Uncle Vernon and Dudley away. I don't care what you have to do or how you do it, but do it," he ordered

Petunia nodded and disappeared. Harry shut the door for the moment and stalked over to Draco. "I haven't turned you in," he repeated firmly. "You said you trust me, so I need you to actually prove it right now. Don't do anything stupid. Just stay put and let me handle this."

Draco finally nodded slowly and Harry could see him relax slightly.

"Mr. Potter, there is still blood on your shirt," Narcissa said calmly, although her face was white and pinched. "I believe it would be wise not to arouse suspicion."

Harry twisted his head to try to see the back of his shirt, pulling it up. He yanked it off, and Winky was already handing him a clean t-shirt. "Thanks," he said, his voice muffled by the new shirt being jerked over his head. Draco stepped forward and ran his fingers through Harry's hair.

"That's not going to help!" Harry exclaimed, batting Draco's hands away.

"Well, it doesn't look like you just tugged a shirt on now at least," Draco muttered.

Harry glared irritably. "I don't want to face him with blood all over me, but otherwise I could care less about my appearance."

He opened the door, sighing heavily before making his way downstairs. He stepped outside where Scrimgeour was waiting for him.

"What do you want?" Harry asked coldly.

Scrimgeour gave him a grim smile. "This isn't the friendliest household, is it?" he said wryly.

"Just get to the point, Scrimgeour," Harry said. "Why are you here? Or would the better question be, what do you want with me now?"

"I had hoped that you might have changed your mind over the last month, now that you've had a little time to adjust," Scrimgeour said. He eyed Harry's hard expression critically. "I believe I may have been mistaken."

Harry snorted. "I told you a month ago and I told you at Christmas. I'm not interested in becoming your little icon to 'boost morale'," he said flatly.

"The people need you, Harry," Scrimgeour said, his own voice growing colder and harder.

"You know, I do believe you're right," Harry said thoughtfully. "The people do need me because I'm actually working to save their world. Unlike the Ministry, I really could care less what my image is. I'm going out and getting the job done."

Scrimgeour's expression turned angry. "The Ministry is working very hard to save the people."

Harry snorted disparagingly. "Yes, that's why you still have people like Stan Shunpike locked up. Because you care about the people," he said sarcastically. "That's about image, Scrimgeour. It's not about the people. You wanting me to publicly align myself with the Ministry is about image, not the people."

"People need to have faith in the Ministry or things will be very bad indeed," Scrimgeour snapped.

"So give them a reason to actually have faith in the Ministry," Harry said incredulously. "Have you ever thought about going that route?"

Harry shook his head, still having trouble understanding this attitude. "There's a reason people followed Dumbledore, and it certainly wasn't because he aligned himself with the Ministry. It's because he stood strong in his beliefs and wouldn't allow people to sway him. When things got rough, he would do something about them. He certainly wouldn't hide behind some safe image and do idiotic things like lock people up for no valid reason."

He paused to gather his thoughts. "Scrimgeour, you are losing the faith of the people because of your inability to take a stand. You wish to place a sixteen-year-old boy out in front and think that's going to make people have more faith in you." He paused. "You're probably right, actually," he admitted.

Scrimgeour only looked wary with Harry saying he was right about something, and Harry smirked at him. "I have people who will follow me, because they see me actually working my arse off to win the battles and the war," he said. "I refuse to let the people see me endorsing the Ministry's actions, because it would cause people to lose faith in me."

Scrimgeour took a deep breath. "I was afraid you would play hard ball," he said. "I came prepared to negotiate with you."

"Negotiate how?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"It was brought to my attention late this afternoon that you have a baby in your care," Scrimgeour said, watching Harry closely.

Harry was unable to keep himself from stiffening. Mr. Weasley must have said something to tip off the Minister, but it was obviously too late now to ask the Weasleys to keep quiet about Victoria.

He glared at Scrimgeour. "You will leave that baby alone," he said dangerously.

"That baby seems to have no history," Scrimgeour went on, ignoring Harry's warning. "It's quite suspicious and should be investigated further."

"You think this is going to make me want to associate with the Ministry?" Harry asked furiously.

"I am willing to negotiate," Scrimgeour said coldly.

"You want to negotiate with people's lives?" Harry snapped. "With a baby's life?"

"If it is necessary for the greater good of the people," Scrimgeour answered.

Harry whirled, slamming his fist into the side of the house so that he didn't actually punch the Minister for Magic.

"Now, Harry, is that kind of behaviour really necessary?" Scrimgeour asked patronizingly.

"It is if you want to keep your face intact," Harry growled.

Scrimgeour actually took a step back in surprise. Harry sneered at him, his mind whirling as he tried to figure out what to do.

"I am willing to file the paperwork, immediately, listing you as the father of that child. With no further questions asked," Scrimgeour said. "But you will come to the Ministry and give a public speech, supporting the Ministry."

"No, I will not support the Ministry in such a manner," Harry snarled. "Especially a Ministry that will use a child's life as a bargaining tool."

"Then I will be forced to take the child away," Scrimgeour said.

"Fuck!" Harry exclaimed, running a hand through his hair in agitation, not realizing he was spreading blood through his hair once again, this time from split knuckles.

"You have no idea what you're interfering with," he said furiously. "Why can't you just leave me alone and let me do my job and win this fucking war?"

"The public needs some kind of reassurance, especially now that Dumbledore is gone," Scrimgeour said, sounding slightly more sympathetic. "I am not actually enjoying this."

Harry began pacing the yard, trying to decide what to do. Draco would kill him if he lost Victoria. Draco wouldn't be thrilled if Scrimgeour gave Harry custody, either. He was damned if he was going to lose her to Scrimgeour, though. He'd done that article back in fifth year which had reached the people. Could he do something like that again?

"Whose child is she?" Scrimgeour asked quietly, watching Harry in bemusement. "Where did she come from?"

Harry realized that he'd played right into Scrimgeour's hands. Scrimgeour may have hoped, but hadn't necessarily expected Harry to react so strongly to his threats. It was time to turn the tables.

"Just like me, her family was killed and then she was dropped off here. She is another victim of this war," Harry said coldly. "The way I see it, you are behaving little better than Voldemort. Attacking a child."

Scrimgeour jerked back as if Harry had slapped him.

"Here's the deal," Harry spat. "You will provide me with paperwork that lists me as Victoria's godfather and gives me custody. I need to know that you won't try to use her against me again in the future and I will not let you take her away from me. Until such time as this war is over, she will be known as Victoria Potter."

"Being known as a Potter will help protect her in the eyes of the public," he said coldly. "It's just too bad you're forcing this out, because it's just going to make her a huge target for Voldemort. So, if you have any compassion at all, I suggest that when you file this paperwork, you keep this quiet for as long as possible. Because if anything happens to that little girl, I will come after your head first."

Scrimgeour's eyes were wide with disbelief. "You have no right," he snapped.

"I have every right," Harry declared. "You brought this on, not me. I managed to reach the public," he spat distastefully, "my fifth year. I'll do it again. I absolutely refuse to publicly endorse the Ministry's actions. I will, however, refrain from publicly calling them out. I will get an article out in which I'll do my bloody best to reassure the people. But I will do it my way, not yours. The public doesn't trust your way. You want me to be an icon? Then let me be an icon, not one of the Ministry's toadies."

"Speaking of, I don't suppose you've gotten smart and gotten rid of Umbridge yet, have you?" Harry asked angrily. "You clean up the Ministry's employees, and release the people like Stan Shunpike that you've wrongfully locked up, and I'll even make a public comment that the Ministry seems to be trying to make an effort."

"If you don't make an effort, you won't get me saying that you are," Harry said.

"You cannot dictate the terms like this," Scrimgeour said coldly.

"Can't I?" Harry asked dangerously. "You try taking Victoria away from me, and I guarantee you that it will become public knowledge that you are using innocent babies as bargaining material."

"The public would not believe that of me," Scrimgeour scoffed.

"There's a reason you've been after me," Harry sneered. "Who do you think they'll believe, you or me?"

Scrimgeour stilled, obviously realizing Harry was right.

"Do we have a deal?" Harry asked.

"You are ruthless in your bargaining, Harry Potter," Scrimgeour said.

Harry simply nodded.

Scrimgeour exhaled heavily. "I will have the paperwork to you shortly listing you as Victoria Potter's godfather with full custody rights. I will begin proceedings to release the prisoners. It will take much more time to work through the Ministry employees."

"If you want real, honest help with that, then I recommend Arthur Weasley to help you," Harry said. "Not Percy Weasley."

"Very well," Scrimgeour said reluctantly.

"I will set things in motion tonight, but I will not have anything published until you work to fulfill your end of the bargain," Harry said coldly.

Scrimgeour studied Harry critically. "I have to wonder if I made the right decision to try to confront you," he said.

Harry shrugged. "If your true goal is to actually help the people and reassure them at the same time, then you went about it the wrong way, but you'll be getting results anyway," he said.

"Not many would dare to try to bargain with the Minister for Magic as you have," Scrimgeour said.

Harry smiled grimly. "Not many have the safety of the Wizarding world riding on their shoulders."

Scrimgeour appeared startled for a moment before he nodded. "You should be receiving an owl shortly and I will keep you posted," he said.

"Thank you," Harry said, nodding in return.

"Best of luck to you, Harry Potter," Scrimgeour said before he walked away.

Harry stared after him until he disappeared out of sight. Turning abruptly, he strode determinedly back to the house.