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Other People's Choices	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 24374 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 5
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Chapter Thirty-Three—A Convincing Letter
Harry wakes up and lies in bed for a small space of time, savoring the fact that he might actually have someone who can take care of him now. He doesn’t want to get up and find out it was all a dream, the way he’s afraid it might. Already Sirius’s words seem to be fading and he thinks he could open his eyes and Snape wouldn’t have captured Pettigrew and wouldn’t have made Sirius listen to him.
“Harry! Get up!”
It’s Blaise, yanking on his bed-curtains. Harry wrinkles his nose and sits up, knowing that Blaise won’t wander away when he’s this intent. He opens the curtains and reaches for his robes. “I’m up, I’m up.”
“What happened last night?”
Harry doesn’t look at Blaise. He’s afraid his expression will somehow give it away. “Tell you later,” he says, and whisks into the shower before Blaise can protest.
As he scrubs his hair and tries his best to make it lie flat, Harry starts thinking about the letter he’s going to have to write to the Minister. It should be the best letter he’s ever done. No pressure, of course, Harry thinks idly as he ducks his head so the water can comb the shampoo away. I just have to make the Minister believe me and give me a place to stay for the summers, which I want more than anything in the world. Simple as Dudley.
But Harry knows he won’t get anywhere thinking like that. If he was really so despairing, he should have given up the minute he got Sorted into Slytherin. He thinks of some phrasing on his way to breakfast, and it pleases him enough that he writes it down when he gets there.
“What are you doing, Potter?”
“None of your business, Greengrass.”
Greengrass sniffs, but she stays close as Harry eats breakfast, writes some more words down, ponders, and writes some more again. He hasn’t paid a lot of attention to what the Minister does, but he has heard about some parties and charity events. Minister Fudge would probably like it if Harry attended one of them, right? Harry can plan on that.
“What are you writing, Harry?”
“None of your business, Blaise.”
And maybe Harry can even promise to make a donation to St. Mungo’s or something. Yeah, that would be all right. The Minister is pretty well-known for “donations.” Harry hears other Slytherins griping about that all the time. Some of the older ones just say “bribes.” Harry doesn’t have a lot to offer, but he’d trade all the gold in his vault and ten years of his life for the right to remain safe.
“What are you writing, Harry?”
“None of your business, Theo.”
Fudge is going to be embarrassed because the Ministry didn’t give Sirius a trial, but—and Harry is pretty certain of this—he wasn’t Minister at the time. So Harry will suggest that Fudge can just blame everything on the previous Minister. And…
Harry pauses, a dripping spoon in front of his lips. He has to move it hastily when it tries to drip porridge on his parchment, though.
He’s thought of something that might work. But on the other hand, it might not. Not if what people have said about Fudge relying on Dumbledore all the time is true.
But on the other hand, Harry knows that Fudge was upset with Dumbledore last year because of the Chamber of Secrets. And there are Dementors out on the school grounds now when Dumbledore tried to keep them away. That might mean he would listen to Harry if Harry said something about Dumbledore. He just has to find the right words.
Excited, Harry begins scribbling roughly. By now there are four Slytherins craning their necks trying to see what he’s writing. Harry elbows Draco out of the way when he gets too close, and raises an eyebrow at him. “Don’t you have studying to do for class or something?” And there are even a sixth-year and a fourth-year staring at him now, wonderful.
“None of it is as interesting as you are, Potter.”
Harry blinks at Draco, then shrugs. He doesn’t have time to worry about Draco changing his mind or whatever he’s doing right now. “I’m not interesting,” he says, and casts a spell that he found in the Nott library above his paper. It will make whoever looks at it just see rippling blurs instead of words.
Draco groans. “Yes, you are.”
Harry might or might not be interesting, but he has no interest in getting involved in a childish argument. He finishes his porridge hastily, grabs the apple Theo all but shoves into his hand, and takes off at a run for Charms. He gathers Ron and Hermione up because they’re going out of the Great Hall at the same time, and then he’s trailing a little group of Slytherins and Gryffindors behind him.
Harry rolls his eyes. This is silly. Don’t they have anything better to do?
“You look like you got good news, Harry.”
Harry grins at Hermione and nods. “I did. But I can’t tell anyone else about it right now, okay? You’ll be the first ones I tell when I can, though,” he adds, to Ron’s mutter and Hermione’s deeply disappointed look.
“And what about us?”
Harry twitches. He’s still not used to having two groups of people who care about what he says. It isn’t what he expected when he was Sorted into Slytherin at all. “I’ll tell you at the same time,” he says to Theo and Blaise.
“And us?”
“Don’t push it, Greengrass.”
She laughs a little, and then they enter Charms and Ron and Hermione have to leave for Transfiguration. Harry waves wistfully after them, and settles down in between Theo and Blaise, who are both watching him as if he waved treacle tart in front of them and then hid it.
“Can you stop doing that? It’s bloody creepy,” Harry mutters, taking out his parchment and scribbling a few more lines on it. He has maybe five minutes until Flitwick arrives, and he wants to make every moment count.
“Do you have any idea how important you are?”
“Yeah, yeah, I do. Boy-Who-Lived and all that nonsense.” Harry thinks of one way he could word the part that’s convincing Fudge not to listen to Dumbledore, and indulges in a mad scribble that he hopes he’ll be able to read later. But honestly, he doesn’t think he’ll have a problem. It’s like his mind is on fire, and burning so bright and clear. He just has to keep going, and he’ll get Sirius free.
“That’s not what I meant—”
But Flitwick shows up, a little early, and Theo has to stop talking. Harry gives him a slight impatient glance as he puts away his letter. He’s still staring at Harry as if there’s something else about his words that Harry should really understand.
Is it Harry’s fault if people want to romanticize him and think that he’s some kind of hero when he’s not? Or follow him around the corridors? No, it bloody isn’t.
*
He has no idea what he’s like when this happens.
Theo can’t actually think of any other time when it happened, though—no, wait, he can. When Harry spoke to the serpent Draco conjured at the Dueling Club last year, and revealed that he was a Parselmouth. Then he had the same kind of magnetic draw about him, with eyes going to him as he strode down the corridors.
But even that is different, because Theo has to admit the vast majority of the attention Harry received last year was negative. This time, it’s positive. People want to be near him, and the energy like a fire he’s putting out.
Theo tries to explain things to Harry that evening, after Harry comes back from a long detention with Professor Snape. Harry just stares at him blankly.
“What?”
Theo settles into the chair next to Harry. He has a parchment on his lap that looks different from the one this morning—it’s longer and has more lines—but when Theo tries to focus on it, it simply gives him the hazy heat-shimmer of before. Theo sighs and turns to Harry.
“You’re a natural leader,” he says, trying to phrase it in a way that will sound better, or at least more likely to Harry’s skeptical ears. “You have this ability to make people want to be close to you.”
Harry nods and goes back to writing. “Because I’m the Boy-Who-Lived. Yeah, believe me, I’ve heard that all before.”
“No! I didn’t mean it that way! You saw the other Slytherins this morning.”
“They were only paying attention because the rest of you were making such a fuss.” Harry squints at the parchment, smiles, and then signs his name with a flourish, which at least tells Theo that it’s a letter. That doesn’t sate his curiosity, of course, since he still has no way of knowing where the letter is going. “I appreciate your support, Theo, but there’s nothing all that special about me except the scar on my head.” He blows on the ink to dry it, and then just draws his wand and casts a Drying Charm. That makes it seem like an urgent letter, and Theo squirms in anticipation.
“What?”
“What what?” Theo realizes he sounds like an idiot, but he can’t help craning his neck and seeing if he can maybe get around to the side of the parchment and read the letter that way.
Harry puts his hand on his arm, and Theo jumps. Harry is staring at him with those piercing deep green eyes that have the same depth of experience Theo sees in the mirror. Harry wasn’t raised by Tarquinius Nott, but he might as well have been.
“I’ll tell you as soon as I can,” Harry says. “In the meantime, please back off.”
Theo sighs and sits back in the chair. There’s a growl in the undertone of Harry’s voice that he knows means he won’t be able to convince him to share any further. “All right,” he says reluctantly. “It’s just that I want you to believe me about people thinking you’re special for reasons that don’t relate to the scar on your head.”
Harry’s eyes soften, and he claps Theo on the back. “That might just be your friendship for me speaking, though,” he points out, and then snatches up his letter and pelts out of the common room. Theo is sure he’s heading for the Owlery.
It occurs to him that he might follow Harry and listen to the name he tells the owl to take the letter to. He restrains himself.
“You didn’t get anything out of him, either?”
“No, Blaise.” Theo leans back in his chair and watches the fire. He can see Draco and Daphne drifting towards them out of the corner of his eye, but honestly, he can’t be bothered to shoo them away. “When he wants us to know, he’ll tell us.”
“He’s not as politically sophisticated as he might need to be to keep himself safe.”
“I know, Daphne.”
“And he really doesn’t understand his position in our world.”
“I know, Draco.”
Theo stares into the fire and restrains his curiosity the way he had to when he was young and didn’t understand things and then found the book that clarified everything in the library. He survived them, in much more dangerous circumstances. He’ll survive a few days, or maybe a week, of not knowing who Harry is to writing to.
I just hope that it’s not more than a week.
*
Harry smiles as he watches Hedwig soar away. Professor Snape gave him some good suggestions for the letter when Harry was in detention with him tonight. And Sirius told him some more about the betrayal, when he wasn’t taunting Snape. Harry really hopes this will work and the Minister will give Sirius a trial.
Harry turns around and starts when he sees Remus standing in the doorway of the Owlery. “Hi,” he says cautiously.
Remus sighs and folds his arms. “Harry, I smelled Sirius’s scent going into the school,” he whispers. “It just seems to disappear when it gets to Snape’s door. What have you done?”
Harry clenches his hands in response. “We haven’t hurt him. We know the truth.”
“You’re going to turn him over to the Dementors?”
“Of course not!”
“Then what are you going to do?” Remus takes a step closer, and bends down as if he thinks that he can see the truth hiding somewhere in the back of Harry’s eyes. “Why didn’t you tell Albus right away?”
“Because I don’t trust him.”
Remus blinks. He acts like he never considered that, but Harry doesn’t know why. He did tell Remus about not wanting to live with the Dursleys and the way Dumbledore tried to force him to. That ought to be enough of a clue. “But why, Harry? He’s the one who protected me, who protected your parents—”
Harry shakes his head impatiently. “He didn’t do it well enough to keep Pettigrew from betraying them.”
Remus sucks in a shaking breath. “It was Sirius, not Peter. Peter is dead—”
“No, he’s not. He was the one who betrayed Mum and Dad and then pretended to die so he could accuse Sirius. But he just transformed into a rat and escaped down the sewers.” Harry didn’t intend to tell Remus this, but the secret is out now, which means he has to keep going. He steps close to Remus, staring at him. “Come on. I can take you to Professor Snape’s office, and you can learn the truth about them yourself.”
Remus covers his eyes with one arm. “That can’t be true. I mean—you could have spoken to Sirius, he could have told you about Peter’s Animagus form, but—”
Harry can’t help laughing, even though it sounds a little choked. “You think I could talk with Sirius about someone’s Animagus form and not get killed? I mean, if you think Sirius is really an insane murderer?”
Remus lifts his eyes and stares at him, obviously conflicted. “I have no idea what to believe right now, Harry.”
That’s true enough. Harry shrugs. The only thing he can do is take Remus to Professor Snape’s office and make sure that Snape knows that Remus is in on the secret. Then Snape can come up with some way to keep Remus from telling Dumbledore.
Part of Harry knows that Snape might tie Remus up and keep him in his office, too, or Obliviate him. But that doesn’t matter to the part of him that knows it. Nothing is going to stop him from living with Sirius. Nothing.
*
Severus can only stare at Remus Lupin crowding into his rooms, and the way he freezes and stares at both Pettigrew—whom Severus has been feeding the Draught of Living Death—and Black. Black leaps to his feet and clenches his hands on the bars of the cage, his eyes bright with exhaustion. “Moony?” he whispers.
Strange how he doesn’t look at his godson with such happy eyes, Severus thinks. But then, he shouldn’t find it strange that Black doesn’t value what he has. He was the same way even in school.
“Padfoot.” Lupin sidles forwards a step, and then stops. He turns around and glares at Harry and Severus both, as if he can’t decide which of them is more responsible. “Why are you keeping him in a cage?”
“Because that’s what you do with wild beasts,” Severus says, and takes pleasure in the way Lupin flinches. “And because he won’t stop insulting me and trying to murder me, even when I have been instrumental in capturing the rat that betrayed him.”
Lupin looks as if he’s going to have an aneurysm on the spot. “What—you—”
“I did it for Harry, not you.” The more Severus says it, the truer it is. And the better it sounds to him.
Harry shoots him a quick glance, but Lupin is the one who says, “This is outrageous, that Sirius never got a trial. And that you’re keeping him like this. I’m going to tell Dumbledore.” He turns around and marches towards the door.
Severus doesn’t think twice. He simply Stuns Lupin and floats him over to the side, ignoring Black’s outraged yelps. Then he conjures a cage and places Lupin in it with the same furniture he gave Black. After a moment’s thought, he raises the Silencing Charm around Black’s cage.
When he turns back, he’s taken aback by the look on Harry’s face. He appears as if he’s trying desperately not to laugh. Severus expected outrage. “You wanted me to let the wolf go to Dumbledore?”
“No.” Harry swallows a giggle. Then he shakes his head. “And except for Dumbledore and me and you, no one even knows he’s in the castle. Which means that no one is going to report him missing until my letter to the Minister gets back.”
Severus relaxes. “Good.” A wave of his hand conjures the parchment, and the desk, and the chair. “Write your lines.”
Harry grimaces, but sits down to do so. Severus watches him. He knows that he promised Harry he wouldn’t have to talk about these things if he wrote about them, but more and more, he’s beginning to think the talking may be necessary.
And he’s not unobservant. He can see the longing looks Harry shoots Black.
We may well have to talk about more than one thing.
Because Severus meant what he said when he told everyone he was doing this for Harry. He will act in Harry’s best interests.
Even if Harry hates him for it.
*
Kain: Oh, I definitely think Sirius wasn't thinking straight when it came to taking revenge. At the same time, it has to string that he only broke out when he knew Peter was alive and not because he thought Harry needed him.
Harry is impatient with both Snape and Sirius, but he still wants to live with Sirius. He thinks that's the only one that would work because Sirius is the only person with a legal claim. He would utterly freak out if he knew what Snape was thinking right now.
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