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Breaking Forwards	By : lastcrazyhorn Category: Harry Potter AU/AR > General Views: 13749 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Not mine. J.K. Rowling's fandom. She's makes money off these stories and I do not. Nor will I ever. Harry Potter is all hers. sniffles But the weird twisted shit? Muahahhaa.

Chapter List
- 21
- 22
- 23
Chapter 22 – Finding a Scapegoat
A/N- Whenever I think of Rita Skeeter, this is the quote that comes to mind:
From Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire (J.K. Rowling's):
"You horrible woman," she said, through gritted teeth, "you don't care, do you, anything for a story, and anyone will do, won't they? Even Ludo Bagman -"
"Sit down, you silly little girl, and don't talk about things you don't understand," said Rita Skeeter coldly, her eyes hardening as they fell on Hermione. "I know things about Ludo Bagman that would make your hair curl... not that it needs it -" she added, eyeing Hermione's bushy hair.
. . .
Rita Skeeter, as careful as she had always been, had still not been completely out of danger from those less than savory characters she investigated. In fact, there were a few times that she would have rather just forgotten altogether, and she might have been able to get away with it if not for people like Severus Snape.
His visit, even with the intriguing tidbits he had given her, had put her into a vile mood as those memories vied for attention within her mind.
So it was with a vicious edge to her voice that she began flooing her various contacts within the ministry, burning through the favors people owed her with a vengeance. She took great pleasure in watching the spineless ministry worms cower as they answered her questions.
"You know that I can't say anything, Rita," one such worm trembled through her interrogation of him.
"Of course not, Carl," she sneered, her dark eyes sharp as they took in his sweating brow and ruddy cheeks. "However, I feel that I should remind you that I am not under the same sort of compulsion, Carl. Do tell me, how is your wife?" Rita smiled cruelly as the man's face paled dramatically.
"What does she h-have to do with this?" Carl asked, trying to show her a brave face, but failing miserably.
"Oh nothing, nothing really, minus those NEWT level exams that she cheated on while at Hogwarts. That's not really that important, right?" The smile she gave this time was victorious.
"That! That is a baseless accusation!" The man spluttered indignantly, his face still as pale as a certain potion's master whom she was purposefully not thinking of.
"Don't you remember, Carl? Or has your memory really gotten that poor? I do wish you'd aim those obliviations of yours a little better." She thought she did simpering sweet quite well when she needed to.
"What did you say you wanted to know?" He finally asked her, a defeated look on his face.
"What do you know about Ronald Weasley?" She leaned forwards with a predatory glint in her eye.
. . .
What Professor Snape previously revealed to Ginny Weasley about her brother, Percy in Chapter 16:
"From what I have surmised, he seems to have had an unusual amount of interest in the younger girls," he said pointedly, looking on calmly as the spots of pink in the girl's cheeks briefly flared a brighter red.
He didn't enjoy frightening the child, but given the delicate nature of the topic, he couldn't just very well ask her whether or not her brother had been molesting her. He hoped that with the addition of potential other innocents into the equation, she might be prompted to say something more about her own experience.
. . .
"P-P-Professor Snape?"
Severus looked up from the papers he was grading and discovered Ginny Weasley standing in his office doorway.
"Miss Weasley," he stated formally, his mind awhirl over the possible reasons she was visiting him.
"May I speak to you privately, sir?"
"Please," he answered graciously, offering her a seat and then closing the door with a swish of his wand.
"I'm—I'm sorry that I didn't come back and speak to you sooner, sir," she said, voice wavering slightly.
"Are you quite all right, Miss Weasley?" Severus asked gently, getting to his feet and going around the desk to sit next to the child.
Lip trembling now, the girl looked up at him and quickly shook her head, "no."
"I—I can't, I mean, I remember what you told me about Percy, sir. And I—And I," she bit her lower lip and looked away from him, blinking hard. He watched as her hands clenched up tightly in her lap, and felt the unusual urge to put his arm around her shoulders.
"I didn't tell you sir, last time, but—but I do have—," she swallowed and nearly lost her control altogether.
"Child?" He asked, offering her his handkerchief in place of her own sodden one.
She took it and then put her hand to her mouth; her shoulders shaking violently as she tried to find a way to say what she clearly had a need to say.
"I—I," she started again, bowing her head and closing her eyes painfully tight. "I have inf—formation th—that y—y—you may—that you might find help—p—pful."
It must have been all the time he had spent around Harry. The boy had clearly softened him up. For the next thing he knew, he had Ginny Weasley in his arms, holding her up as she wept silently into his chest.
"I hate him, I hate him!" Were the only words he could decipher around her sobs.
"He hurt you." It wasn't a question. Even if he had not already had some inkling of what was going on, the child's behavior left little room for doubt.
"How c—could he do it, sir?" She finally looked up, her eyes wet and glistening, stabbing at his heart painfully.
"I wish I had an answer," he said slowly, shaking his head back and forth. "Regardless of what has happened, it is important to realize that it is not your fault. You did nothing to provoke him, or Merlin forbid, tempt him. He is family, and as family, his actions have hurt you grievously, making this all the harder to rationalize, let alone understand."
. . .
"Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore's even and measured voice broke into his thoughts, making Ron Weasley jerk and turn in his bed towards the old man.
"Sir," he answered as calmly as he could, his anger simmering deep in his gut.
"I need to know what you can tell us about the night you were attacked," he said, stepping to the side to reveal an anxious looking McGonagall behind him.
"I—," he looked away and gritted his teeth as a fresh wave of fury blew through his body. His being attacked—as the headmaster had so graciously put it—hadn't been part of his plans. He didn't want his uncle here; he didn't want his uncle controlling every aspect of his life; he just wanted to forget the whole thing had ever happened.
"I don't remember," Ron stated, staring at a point on the wall somewhere over Dumbledore's left shoulder.
"Minerva, would you give us a few moments alone?" Dumbledore softly asked his head of house.
"Of course," she answered stiffly, walking out of his curtained off area. He felt the telltale signs of a privacy ward going up around them and didn't know whether he wanted to scream or laugh.
"I can tell that you are lying to me, child. Trust me when I tell you that there is no reason for it," the old man spoke to him in what Ron was sure was supposed to be a soothing voice.
"Because you'll protect me?" Ron answered with a bitter laugh.
"I will," Dumbledore looked at him in concern.
"I don't want your fucking help," he answered coldly, digging his nails into his palm in an attempt to rein in his overwhelming emotions. "I just want you to leave me alone and never talk about this again," he finished with a growl, throwing the blanket off and getting gingerly to his feet. "Where are my clothes?"
"They were covered in your blood," Dumbledore told him in a soft voice, seating himself on the edge of his bed and gazing at him sadly.
"Too bad they weren't covered in Potter's blood, yeah? You could have put them up for sale," Ron bit back harshly.
"Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore sounded disapproving, but he couldn't bring himself to care. "I think that you should be aware that your father has been taken in by the aurors for questioning."
He froze in his steps and then relaxed as he realized who Dumbledore was referring to.
"Oh, goody for Arthur," he smiled, feeling sick to his stomach.
"I am concerned with your behavior, Mr. Weasley. Poppy is of the opinion that you should be transferred to St. Mungos, and I am beginning to think that I agree with her."
He wasn't looking at the old man, but could feel those damned blue eyes burning twin holes in his backside.
"Nothing happened," he finally turned around, smiling benignly at the old bastard. "This was just a big misunderstanding."
"I wasn't aware that rape could be considered consensual, Mr. Weasley," blue eyes still staring at him, and he made a conscious effort not to meet them with his own.
"I'm not pressing any charges," he answered, finding his wand in the side table and transfiguring his pajamas into real clothes. He silently thanked Merlin that he had finally been able to get a wand that fit him.
"You are a minor, Mr. Weasley. The charges are not yours to press." Dumbledore was infinitely calm, annoying him just that much more.
"And nothing happened," he said, repeating himself with a mild shrug.
"Blood happened, Mr. Weasley."
So fucking calm.
"Semen happened as well, Mr. Weasley. The initial tests show that it came from a male member of your family."
Fucking calm.
"Accidental magic perhaps. I was sleepwalking, and—." He knew he was being ridiculous. There was no way the old man would ever drop this.
"Your rectum was torn. You were disoriented. Your body was littered with cuts, bites and bruises."
Fuck him! As if I need to be reminded!
"Did anyone ever tell you about the time that I walked down to Hogsmeade while asleep? Stranger things have happened," he shrugged, stepping farther away from the bed.
"He cannot hurt you here," Dumbledore's voice was hushed, his tone imploring.
Minus the fact that he already did? Oh, okay. Ron knew that the old man likely wanted him to say exactly that, just to force him to give up his charade.
"Who?" He asked calmly, crossing his arms over his chest.
"The man who raped you, my boy."
Silence.
"Right. Okay then, I'm going back to my dorm room," he said brightly, clapping his hands together. He turned to leave the enclosed space, but felt the old man's hand on his shoulder, a surprisingly strong grip holding him in place.
"Let go of me," Ron's fury was bubbling up again, threatening to push out of his careful control and into the air around them.
"What are you hiding, child?" The man sounded so fucking sincere.
Ron hated him for it.
Why couldn't he have cared earlier than now? Why was it only Harry bloody Potter that ever got anyone's fucking concern?
"Preliminary tests show that it was a close family member. Was it one of your brothers? I can't help you unless you tell me," Dumbledore said, annoying him even more by repeating most of his words from before.
Did the man really think he was that stupid?
"Are we done here? I need to visit the owlery before curfew," he finally said, glancing at Dumbledore with a murderous feel in his heart. Perhaps the man felt the sentiment in his gaze, because shortly after, he felt those damnable fingers release their hold on him.
Seeing that the man had nothing left to keep him there with, Ron sneered and then stalked fearsomely out of the infirmary. He had a letter to write.
. . .
"Percy Weasley?"
Percy looked up from his paperwork into the stern face of Kingsley Shacklebolt, who was flanked by Mad-Eye Moody and another auror that he didn't know.
"Yes?"
"Stand up." Kingsley's voice was rough and they all had their wands out. Percy could feel eyes on him from the other Ministry workers present. He had no choice but to stand.
"Might I ask what this is all about?"
"You can ask, boy," Moody spat, glowering at him with a sneer that threatened to break apart what was left of his face.
"I don't want any trouble," he said, speaking very calmly as he put his wand down on the desk in front of him.
"Too late for that," Kingsley told him in a very quiet voice, grabbing him by the shoulder tightly and turning him around to lock handcuffs around his wrists tightly. Percy knew that they were warded against transformations and average levels of wandless magic. No one but an extremely powerful wizard could break free, and even that was only a theory.
Needless to say, the theory was not going to be put to the test by him.
. . .
Uncle –
For some reason, Dumbledore seems to think that a close family member raped me. I told him that his accusation was hogwash, but he told me that my being a minor means that the matter is out of my hands.
They're thinking about sending me to St. Mungo's.
Thought you should know.
R.B.W.
As much as Ronald wanted his uncle to pay for what he had done to him, not just recently but throughout the entirety of his life, he also didn't want the possibility of seeing the entire situation turn into a public debacle.
He wanted his vengeance to be on his own terms. He wanted to be able to hold his revenge in his hands, watching patiently as his uncle's life slowly slipped away.
. . .
Only a few hours later, he received the following:
Ronald –
Percy has been arrested for assaulting an unnamed minor. It seems that his crimes have finally been brought to light. There is no reason to fear any kind of retribution now.
If you need legal assistance, I will finance it.
Rodney Weasley
His uncle's name was signed in a flourish, and the letter had been sealed with the official Weasley coat of arms.
It seemed that Percy was going to be their scapegoat. He wasn't sure how he felt about that. On one hand, Percy was his brother—his real brother, not a half like the rest of his siblings. On the other hand, Percy had helped his "uncle" to hurt him on more than one occasion, involuntarily as well as voluntarily.
Unsurprisingly, Ron didn't get much sleep that night.
. . .
"Severus," Dumbledore's face looked older than he remembered.
"Headmaster," Severus stated formally as he took a seat opposite the man's desk.
"Percy has been arrested."
"Good," Severus answered with a curl of his lips. That bastard, he thought angrily, his mind going automatically to the girl who had cried herself to sleep in his arms only the day before.
"I—."
Severus watched in interest as his employer stopped and wiped a hand over his face in an uncharacteristic show of weariness.
"I haven't contacted Molly yet about Miss Weasley."
Severus thought about that. With Percy in custody and Arthur being held for "questioning" (he knew better than most what that was all about), perhaps it was better to keep the rest of this silent, at least for now.
In the back of his mind though, there was small voice that kept insistently reminding him that Rita Skeeter was under no such compulsion. It was only a matter of time before their entire quandary became moot.
Of course, he did not mention any of that to Albus.
"Perhaps that is a prudent decision on your part," he offered instead, speaking his words cautiously.
"I am sickened by what has been revealed this year, Severus," Albus said, looking pained.
And I am not?
"Has Ronald told you any more of the identity of his attacker?" He used the boy's name for clarity's sake, thinking that there were far too many "Mr. Weasley's" involved thus far.
"No," Albus's answer was short, his face suddenly troubled.
"What is it?"
"He is denying that he was attacked."
Interesting. Of course he had his own suspicions about Ronald Weasley—more than suspicions really, with what Dennis had said in some of their informal conversations with Harry, but nothing that would hold up legally.
"He is a boy, Albus. Male victims," he drummed his fingers on the armrest of the chair, "rarely come forwards after being attacked. In fact, there are many who believe that males cannot be raped."
"That is preposterous!" Albus thundered, stilling his fingers immediately with the abrupt change in tone.
"But true," he countered softly, briefly glancing up into Dumbledore's worried eyes.
"What is going on in that family, my boy?" Albus's answered, sounding strained and tired.
He didn't answer. It didn't seem to be a question that actually could be answered, and certainly not by either of them.
"I need a favor from you, Severus."
"Regarding?" He asked warily.
"Miss Granger's memories regarding her attacker," was Dumbledore's somber reply.
Ah.
"Do you believe that they were assaulted by the same person?"
"I'm not yet sure what I believe, my boy."
"What of the physical evidence from Weasley's rapist?"
"Poppy's results—," Albus started, only to be waved off by an irritated Severus.
"Have you not yet had them tested via revealing potion?"
"I had thought that the lad would tell me," Albus admitted quietly, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.
Severus ran a hand over the side of his head in frustration. Gryffindors. Bloody trusting arseholes, he thought angrily.
"And I suppose that you don't have any on hand either," he growled out, quickly making his way to his feet.
"It's not been needed since—," Albus paused, blue eyes catching his own dark ones pointedly.
Severus raised his eyes to the ceiling and made himself count to ten, and then he did it again in Latin, to ensure that he was not about to hex the man before him.
When he was positive that he had himself back under control, he looked back down and stared coldly at Albus.
"I seem to remember it not being used then either," he answered deeply, his voice nearly a growl.
"Now Severus," Albus began.
"Do not 'Now Severus' me!" He hissed, turning his back on the old man and making his way to the door.
"I'll brew your bloody potion for you, old man, but you had better make sure that it is actually used this time."
With that, he swirled his robes around himself dramatically and left the man's office with a slam of the door behind him.
. . .
Back in quarters, Severus paced back and forth; part of his mind was focused on tallying up the list of ingredients needed for the Revelio potion, but the rest of his thoughts were lost in the past, remembering the attack that had happened to one of his housemates during his fourth year.
"Dad?"
The sound of his son's voice made him stutter to a stop, his eyes snapping up to meet green eyes staring in concern at him from the opposite side of the room. Harry was dressed in his Quidditch gear and his cheeks were flushed, meaning he had just come back from practice.
"What's happened?"
"Change clothes and meet me in my private lab," he answered instead, needing a chance to calm himself down before explaining the situation.
"Okay," Harry answered carefully, nodding at him. The boy's face was worried, but at least he didn't seem to be afraid of Severus.
Some fifteen minutes later, they met back up in his lab, where Severus had already begun getting out the necessary ingredients. There was no time to waste, as the potion would require most of the next week to develop—yet another reason for his anger against Dumbledore.
"I may need your help with this," he stated softly as his freshly washed, fifteen year-old child came up beside him.
"What is it?"
"The Revelio potion," was his simple answer.
"I've never heard of that one," Harry said, looking befuddled.
"Likely you have not," he said slowly, thinking of how he wanted to put his next words.
"Does it have something to do with who attacked Ron?"
Severus raised an appreciative eyebrow at his son.
"Dad, I wanted to tell you something. I thought about the conversation we had the other day, and I'm sorry that I was so glad that he had been attacked."
"Harry—," Severus started to say, only to be cut off with a very Snape-like look from his son.
"No, Dad. I need to say this. I don't think sexual assault can ever be considered a good thing, and I'm sorry if it came out like that. I just wanted him to hurt for everything he's done. Dennis is convinced that he hurt Colin, and I bet he's the one who hurt Hermione."
"Are you done now? May I speak?"
"If you want," his son said, flashing him a smile.
"Good, because you were in danger of sounding like a Gryffindor had you continued on any longer."
"Can't have that," Harry answered, look up at him in askance.
"Child," he said softly, turning and laying his larger hand on Harry's still much thinner shoulder. "It is not a bad thing to be angry about something unjust. And in some cases, violence is necessary in order to keep the ones you love safe. The important thing is not to let your vengeance become intertwined in the reasons for your actions. Do you understand?"
Harry nodded slowly, staring at him with a new appreciation in his eyes.
He nodded back and then turned back to the preparations for the potion at hand.
"The Revelio potion is an advanced potion that has not ever—so far as I am aware—been taught to any student while at Hogwarts," he said, feeling himself slipping into his instructor mode.
"Is it dangerous?"
"The potion itself is not, but the situations in which it is used are very specific."
"Like rape," his son murmured softly next to him.
"Correct," he said.
"Has it ever been needed before at Hogwarts?" Harry asked, sharp green eyes peering at him inquisitively.
"At least once before," he answered after a small pause.
"Was it—was it something the Marauders did to you?" Harry's voice was strained, his body tense as he awaited an answer from him.
"Not me," Severus quickly clarified, watching in interest as the tension suddenly fled somewhat from his son's posture.
"But it was the Marauders, wasn't it," the teenager asked, green eyes hard like chips of ice.
"Yes."
"And Dumbledore never saw that as a clue?"
Severus sighed and directed him to sit on a nearby stool, while he took the one opposite.
"Albus Dumbledore sees what he wants to see," he answered tiredly, reaching out and latching their hands together. "I do not excuse his actions; I just want you to understand."
Harry licked his lips and looked away with a grimace, closing his eyes briefly as he did.
"I do understand," he said when he finally turned back.
"This potion's full title is Revelio Familius. It is specifically used in sexual assault cases between family members."
"But aren't most of the purebloods related already?"
"The potion is only used in cases where crimes have been committed by members of one's immediate family."
Severus watched Harry's face as he took in this new information. It was only thirty seconds or so before the boy's eyes widened and a look of horror came over his face.
"Regulus?" Harry whispered.
It was Severus's turn to look away and grimace.
"I found them, but not before they were able to run away. I took Regulus to Poppy and I told Dumbledore what had transpired. Regulus refused to speak, but I was—," he paused, thinking of how best to put it.
"It was more than just a grudge between them and I, and more than just anger was felt on my part towards them. Regulus Black entered Hogwarts a year after Sirius and I did. The attack happened during my fourth year," Severus laid it out for Harry to understand, and was not surprised to feel the boy's smaller hands clenching down hard upon his own.
"And Dumbledore did nothing," Harry said, looking just shy of murderous.
"If it had been the other way around, I am quite sure that the potion would have been used," was Severus's own bitter reply.
"I'm sorry, Dad."
"It certainly isn't your fault, child," he said in surprise.
"I know, but I can't help but wonder if Dumbledore's callous actions towards you and the other Slytherins was what forced you over to Voldy. So yeah, I'm sorry," Harry said sadly, standing up and hugging him tightly.
After a moment, his brain kicked in and he put his arms around his son in return.
"I'm not yet used to having someone on my side, Harry," he murmured softly into the boy's ear.
"I know. I'm not either," was the child's quiet response.
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Breaking Forwards