Chapter Text
Professor McGonagall looked worried as she walked toward Hari in the library. “Miss Potter?”
Hari startled, knocking over an ink bottle and sending a book to the floor. “Professor?”
McGonagall summoned the book and handed it back to Hari. “Runes on a Saturday morning?”
“Ah, well,” grinned Hari. “O.W.L.s, you know.”
“Come with me, Miss Potter.”
Hari scrambled to shove her notes in a bag and follow McGonagall.
“I swear, Professor. Whatever happened, it wasn’t me. I think Fred and George are even too busy to cause their normal havoc.”
McGonagall’s lip twitched.
“You’ve been requested at the Ministry,” said McGonagall quietly.
Hari’s stomach clenched. “The Ministry?” hissed Hari. “Why?”
“I do not know.”
Would they try to charge her with a crime? She doubted Dumbledore would be able to bail her out this time. She never should have let herself be talked into the DA. It was her fault he was on the run.
“Will you come with me?” asked Hari.
They walked for a few more steps.
“Yes, Miss Potter. I believe I will.”
The floo trip to the Ministry did not help Hari’s nauseated stomach. With a swipe of McGonagall’s wand, a layer of ash and soot disappeared from their robes.
McGonagall led the way to the Minister’s floor. She murmured, “Miss Potter. I trust you remember our conversation regarding your first detention this year?”
“About keeping my temper?” asked Hari.
McGonagall nodded.
Hari sighed. This was serious. She had no idea what awaited her, but it couldn’t be good. She needed to stay in control. She needed to stay calm. Clear your mind, she heard in Snape’s sneering tone. She took a deep breath, held it, then slowly exhaled. It didn’t help. How in Merlin’s name were you supposed to clear your mind when your body was shrieking ‘run away’?
Hari wished Dumbledore were here.
Dumbledore.
What would Dumbledore do?
He would be civil. Pointedly civil. Annoyingly civil. And then he’d do whatever he wanted.
That sounded good. All she needed to do was take a breath and ask ‘What would Dumbledore do’ before reacting. Unless Voldemort was here.
With each step, she chanted in her head: What would Dumbledore do? What would Dumbledore do?
“Miss Potter?” asked McGonagall.
Hari looked up at her with an innocent smile. “You may want to keep your wand at hand, Professor. Constant vigilance, and all that.” Hari winked.
McGonagall’s eyes widened.
Hari breathed. Well, surely she’d get better at reacting like Dumbledore.
They walked into the Minister’s floor, and an assistant directed them to a conference room.
The door opened and her eyes swept across the room. No Voldemort. Good.
Minister Fudge and three people Hari didn’t recognize were seated at the table. Four people were stationed around the room and looked like guards. Hari recognized Kingsley Shacklebolt and relaxed slightly. Aurors. And standing by the window was Lucius Malfoy.
The same eyes that had watched as she was tortured in the graveyard looked at her now.
Her hand twitched. What would Dumbledore do? What would Dumbledore do?
“Mr. Malfoy. What an unexpected…pleasure,” she said. Don’t curse him in front of the Minister of Magic. Don’t curse him.
Malfoy gave a crisp nod and said, “The pleasure is mine, Miss Potter.”
Hari blinked. He didn’t sneer. He didn’t look at her like she was dung on the bottom of his shoe. He looked sincere. What in Merlin’s name was going on?
“Ah. There you are,” said Minister Fudge with a tight smile. “Thank you for bringing her, Professor McGonagall. You may leave.”
McGonagall put a hand on Hari’s shoulder. “As her Head of House, I act as Miss Potter’s guardian during the school term. I’ll be staying, Minister.”
Fudge’s eyes narrowed, but he shifted his gaze and ignored McGonagall.
Sweet Merlin. Hari needed to send McGonagall the best Christmas gift next holiday season.
“Miss Potter. Please have a seat. We have an urgent opportunity to discuss,” said Fudge.
Hari’s stomach felt like a ball of molten acid, and her palms were sweating.
Fudge was shifting in his seat.
“It has come to my attention that the Dark Lord has, in fact, returned to England,” said Fudge.
What would Dumbledore do?
“Better late than never,” said Hari.
McGonagall may have thought that wasn’t civil enough, because she put a hand on Hari’s shoulder and said, “Has there been an attack, Minister? What made you change your mind?”
“No, no, Minerva. No attacks. All is well.”
And that made Hari’s heart beat faster.
“We had a meeting earlier in the week,” said Fudge. He looked like a guilty schoolboy.
“You had a meeting with You-Know-Who?” McGonagall’s voice was icy.
“Did you join Voldemort, Minister Fudge?” asked Hari, barely above a whisper.
“No!” Fudge practically shouted. “No, nothing like that…”
Hari’s fists were clenched under the table. What would Dumbledore do?
“So I assume this meeting is to offer me an apology? And perhaps to give me an advanced copy of a Prophet article that clears the slander campaign against me and informs the public of the threat? And you’ll reinstate Headmaster Dumbledore, of course,” said Hari sweetly.
Fudge sputtered. “Apology? Dumbledore? No. No…”
“Minister!” McGonagall’s Scottish brogue was slipping out in her anger.
“Don’t you think,” said Hari quietly, “that the people you represent deserve to know about the danger?”
“If we tell them now, there would be mass panic. There won’t be any danger soon,” said Fudge.
This was bad. This was very bad. What would Dumbledore do?
“So you are planning to duel Voldemort? And asked me here for my knowledge?” said Hari, nodding.
Fudge was almost as puce as his hat, but Hari ignored him and continued.
“Voldemort’s quite fond of all three Unforgivable curses as he duels,” said Hari.
Everyone flinched.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” muttered Fudge.
“We’ve been working out a peace treaty,” said a man next to Fudge.
What would Dumbledore do?
“Peace treaties are made during war. Are we at war?” asked Hari.
They ignored her.
McGonagall said, “And what does You-Know-Who want, Minister?”
Fudge looked away.
The man next to Fudge looked at Hari.
As he opened his mouth, Hari flicked her wand. The strongest shield she knew surrounded McGonagall and Hari as the man said, “He wants Hari Potter.”
McGonagall squeezed Hari’s shoulder tightly.
Several of the aurors raised their wands.
What would Dumbledore do?
“You expect me to let him torture and kill me?” said Hari. Her voice was quiet and low.
“A miscommunication,” said Lucius, finally entering the conversation. “Minister. Aurors. Let us not escalate needlessly.”
Hari didn’t move.
After a nod from Fudge, the aurors drifted back to their posts along the walls. But they looked alert.
After a tense silence, Lucius says, “The Dark Lord does not wish you harm–”
Hari snorted.
“--He wishes for your hand.” Lucius continued.
Hari stared at him, mouth open in horror. “He wants me to be like Peter and cut off my hand as a ritual ingredient?! No! Just…no! He has a body, why does he even need…”
McGonagall squeezed Hari’s shoulder again.
Lucius frowned and said, “Your hand in marriage.”
Everything in Hari froze. Her mind was silent. She shook her head, as if to get rid of water in her ears. She blinked. What?
McGonagall was talking – yelling, really – but Hari couldn’t process the words.
The man next to Fudge was a magical lawyer named Smythe. He was talking about contracts that would ensure political, rather than violent, means for all factions to pursue.
Hari found her tongue. “He’s been trying to find a way around death. And you think a piece of paper will hold him back?”
Whatever they said didn’t stick in Hari’s mind. They were fools. Dangerous fools.
A stack of parchment was shoved in front of her. They said it was time to review and discuss the marriage contract.
“I’m not getting married,” said Hari.
Smythe said, “It was one of the few non-negotiable items in the peace agreement.”
She wanted to hex his bollocks off. What would Dumbledore do?
Hari took a deep breath.
“You’re all completely mad. Just barmy.” Ok. Dumbledore probably wouldn’t say that. “I’m going to read this monstrosity with the hope it’s a break from this insanity.”
Diving into the first paragraph, Hari ignored everyone.
“Perhaps some tea, Minister?” asked Lucius.
Everyone drank tea.
Hari’s mind was shrieking at her. This was an actual contract detailing how she should behave in a marriage.
“This clause says I have to support Voldemort’s political views,” said Hari.
“Yes?” prompted Smythe.
“I can’t do that.”
“Surely, Ms. Potter, you–”
“You don’t understand,” said Hari. “This is a poorly worded contract. I can’t support his political views because I don’t know what they are.”
Fudge choked on a biscuit. “You’re a figurehead of the light. You’re the Girl-Who-Lived. What do you mean you don’t know each side’s political views?”
“Exactly what I said. I’ve asked people. I’ve read books. A great deal of information exists about his methods - kidnapping, torture, murder. But nothing talks about his aims, or if he even had any.”
No one said anything, so Hari continued. “If it’s just a means to an end and all he wants to do is kill people, then…well…do you want me to support that?”
Smythe was muttering about clarifications, and Lucius was writing something. Hari sighed and returned to the contract.
What would Dumbledore do?
“We need to talk about this clause,” said Hari.
“Which clause?” Smythe almost winced as he asked.
Hari pointed to the paragraph.
“What are marital duties?”
Fudge coughed. There was some sort of thump from an auror behind her.
No one said anything.
“If none of you can specify the term, then it should be removed from the contract,” said Hari.
Silence.
“Are we in agreement that it should be removed from the contract?” asked Hari.
Lucius slid into the conversation like water through fingers. “The phrase ‘marital duties’ usually refers to physical intimacy in a marriage.” His voice was calm and smooth.
Fudge was shifting in his seat. A young auror was beet red. Hari hoped they choked.
“Physical intimacy,” said Hari.
Lucius nodded.
“As in sex,” prompted Hari.
“Indeed,” said Lucius. He didn’t look terribly pleased to be having this conversation.
The silence stretched. Hari stared at the table unblinking.
“Well,” Hari said. “This brings so many thoughts to mind. The first is: do most married couples really see sex with each other as a duty?”
One of the aurors coughed.
“Whatever,” said Hari. “Alright. You said ‘marital duties’ usually refers to sex. Does it mean anything else? In this specific case?”
Smythe chimed in. “No. It refers solely to…erm…physical intimacy.” He said this while staring at the ceiling.
Hari felt a bit of delight at making them miserable. Serves them right.
“The clause needs to be clarified, then,” said Hari. “Who put this clause in the contract?”
The lawyer seemed grateful for the change in direction. “It is a common clause in marriage contracts.”
“So…you put this clause in the contract?” asked Hari.
Smythe tilted his head. “We carried it over from the historical template contract. And it has not been objected to.”
Hari blinked a few times and took several deep breaths. “So…all of you here…think it’s perfectly…reasonable…to write a contract that demands I have sex with Voldemort? The man who murdered my parents and has tried to kill me multiple times? You do realize I’m fifteen years old, right?”
Kingsley was frowning. No one said anything.
“Lucius?” asked Hari.
He met her eyes and raised an eyebrow.
Hari continued. “It sounds like he didn’t put this clause in. Don’t you think you should speak with him about it? You know…before signing a contract that expects us to have sex?”
Malfoy didn’t look perturbed. “He did not raise the issue when reviewing the contract.”
“Well, I’m…suggesting a few changes. There should be no expectation or pressure to have sex before I come of age.”
Lucius made a note.
“And Lucius?”
He looked up again.
“Tell him that he should expect to regrow whichever part of his body touches mine without consent.” Hari smiled. It wasn’t a nice smile.
Fudge squawked, which they both ignored.
Lucius just raised an eyebrow. “I’ll raise the issue.”
Hari nodded and looked at Fudge. “This amendment is in your best interest, Minister Fudge.”
“It doesn’t sound like–” he was cutoff.
“After all, you wouldn’t want the Wizarding public to think you arranged for the rape of a fifteen year old girl?” She wasn’t smiling.
Fudge’s mouth was open. He looked at her in horror. He looked at the lawyer. “Let’s…erm…look at historical records of amendments…” He trailed off, and Smythe nodded.
They retreated back into silence.
Everyone looked exceedingly uncomfortable except for Malfoy. Fudge looked like he couldn’t wait for this day to end, and one of the aurors was an even deeper brick red. No one was looking at her.
Perfect. It was time.
Hari pushed back her chair and smiled innocently. “Minister Fudge. I hope you don’t mind. I’ve had quite a bit of tea and could use a…errrr…comfort break?”
Fudge seemed to melt in relief. “Oh. Oh! Yes. Of course. Let’s all take a break. Indeed.”
The adults, except Malfoy, looked grateful to flee the room and conversation.
Hari waved McGonagall off. An assistant pointed Hari in the direction of the lavatory.
Hari pushed the door open a full ninety degrees. No one was in the room. She cast a quick charm to keep the door fully open. Quickly, she moved behind the door so no one could see her from the hallway. She summoned the invisibility cloak from the bag attached to her ankle.
The cloak settled around her shoulders.
Another charm made her footsteps silent.
She stepped into the hallway and canceled the charm on the door. It slowly swung shut.
She made her way to the elevators. Not breathing, she peeked inside. No one else was in the elevator. She could hear her heartbeat in her ears.
The doors pinged open on the Atrium level. She walked quickly, unseen, unheard, toward the exit.
Just a few more steps. Please let me make it. Almost there.
Hari stepped into a fireplace. Mr. Weasley explained last summer that these were exits to muggle London.
With a whoosh, Hari found herself standing in a muggle toilet. Well, that’s an indignity I can live with.
She gently stepped onto the ground, dried her shoes, and walked out.
Hari Potter was free in muggle London.
________________________________________
“She. Escaped,” said Voldemort. His quiet tone did not put anyone in the room at ease.
“Yes,” said Malfoy.
“She escaped. From the Ministry of Magic. While surrounded by aurors. In the Minister’s office?” drawled Voldemort.
“Yes.”
Voldemort chuckled, and then threw back his head and laughed.
Lucius Malfoy was rooted to the spot. The Dark Lord had changed so much in the last several months; he looked human, sounded human, and spoke like the leader Malfoy had dedicated his life to. But Lucius wasn’t foolish enough to think the Dark Lord was less dangerous.
“It’s almost amusing,” said Voldemort. “Watching Hari Potter happen to other people.”
Lucius was not stupid enough to say anything to that.
“Come, Lucius,” Voldemort gestured, smiling. “Tell me everything.”