Chapter Text
A delicate issue
And after a while, you can work on points for style
Like the club tie, and the firm handshake
A certain look in the eye and an easy smile
You have to be trusted by the people that you lie to
So that when they turn their backs on you,
You'll get the chance to put the knife in.
(Dogs, Pink Floyd)
Harry Potter was happy. War was over, he had three wonderful sons with his dreams’ girl.
He was an auror: a natural derivation of his history. He was an influent voice in the Minister choices, although politics things were not his direct occupation. He was a powerful, brilliant man and he was fearless: Death Eaters were dead or in prison, and Voldemort shadow was not on his life anymore.
Till that day.
Robbard, his boss, called him for a case he defined “urgent and reserved.”
Harry was surprised, because there wasn’t any sympathy between him and Robbards. They had very different ideas about interrogations, cases, relationships with the Minister, internal politics and actually about everything. Harry felt that Robbard thought he was just there because of his name. For this reason, almost challenging him, he was assigned to the most boring cases and he never worked alone, till that moment.
Harry knocked on Robbard’s office door.
“It is a delicate issue,” said Robbard. “Take a drink.”
Harry sat and drank a bit of Firewhiskey from the glass Robbard had offered.
“I don’t know how you’ll react, but there are some bad rumors in Azkaban.”
“Rumors about what?”
“It seems…” Robbard hesitated. “It seems that might exist another Horcrux.”
Harry swallowed. Another Horcrux? That wasn’t possible.
“I saw Voldemort die.”
“That is certain, Harry. But… he’s been seen dying a lot of times, and somehow he managed to come back.”
Harry shook his head. “No. I’d feel it. This scar connects me to him.”
“Of course, you’d feel it… but you wouldn’t if your connection was tied to the Horcrux living in you, or if his soul is still inside an Horcrux in a non-vital state. If it is like that, we must find that Horcrux and destroy it before it finds a vector, a living being.”
Harry looked at Robbard. It made sense. Suddenly, the idea of that monster returning became real. Returning to a world where his children lived…
“This rumours… where they come from? How can we be sure that is true?”
“Only one Death Eater escaped the Kiss, as you surely know.”
And yes, Harry knew it. He thought of the sunken eyes of Draco Malfoy waiting for the response of his trial. He thought of his witness, as impartial as possible: yes, Draco Malfoy tried to kill, no, he didn’t, yes, he let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts, yes, he lowered his wand in front of Dumbledore, no, when they were caught he didn’t recognize them, or pretended to…
No more and no less than the truth. Harry felt that was right like that. Malfoy was responsible for very bad things. He tried to kill Ron, and he was indirectly responsible for many deaths: Fred, Remus, Dora, Colin… So many others.
And if Harry’s witness for Narcissa Malfoy gave her the absolution, that scarce exposition of the facts spared Malfoy his life and soul, but not prison.
“Twenty-four years in Azkaban”, said Robbard. Harry nodded. That was Wizengamot sentence.
Malfoy was the only Death Eater saved from the Kiss.
“We don’t have certainties,” Robbard said. “But these rumours, in some prisoner’s versions, are related to Malfoy. He would also have said…” Robbard read from some papers on his board “….that Dark Lord will rise again, and he will be clement with his minions, and cruel to his enemies. Another states that Malfoy said to him: you’re still in time to join the ranks of our beloved Lord.”
Harry frowned. So, no doubt: Wizengamot was right. Malfoy wasn’t a victim of the circumstances, he was a Death Eater to his bone.
And Harry be damned if Voldemort ever came back.
“I presume you have already interrogated him.”
“I took care of that interrogation personally,” said Robbard. “As you will understand, Harry, it is necessary absolute privacy. True or false, the idea of a possible return of You-Know -Who would just spread panic. And if anyone knows, we couldn’t distingue what rumours are worth our attention.”
“Of course I understand. What did come out of the interrogation?” Harry had a flash of Robbard-Style – Interrogations, that usually he found disgusting as they were too violent, based on drugs, blackmails and panic, but this time he didn’t care about the how, he wanted to know if it was true, if Voldemort would come back.
“Nothing at all. Malfoy is a trained soldier. He can elude Veritaserum and resist coercition. It was predictable. Whoever has been exposed to Cruciatus isn’t startled by minor spells, and it is illegal to use Unforgivables. Malfoy would never confess truth to an enemy, and we’re enemies to him. That’s way I made a plan.”
Harry understood.
“A rat,” he said.
“Exactly. Someone I can trust one hundred per cent about You-Know-Who. Someone who knows well Malfoy and his past. That makes you the perfect candidate.”