Chapter 32: Helplessness
Disclaimer:
Harry Potter and all of its characters belong to J.K. Rowling.
I own nothing but the original characters I make.
"Dialogue"
'Thoughts'
-Author notes-
Chapter 32: Helplessness
Harry lay on the frozen shore, gasping for breath. He lifted the torn piece of fabric. "We also have some evidence that the Weasley Twins were involved in his disappearanc-"
"Stop it." Daphne narrowed her eyes. "Forget about that, Potter." Her voice was sharp, cutting through the air like a blade.
Harry looked at her. She had turned away from him, her shoulders hunched and her hands trembling.
"Daphne?"
"Forget about this matter, Potter." She did not turn around. "Forget all of it."
Harry stared at her. "What? You were the one who said we should take the evidence to the Ministry. You said—"
"I know what I said." Daphne finally faced him. Her eyes and cheeks were slightly red. "That was when I thought the ones responsible were just students. But now…"
"Now what?"
"Now we know the Headmaster was implicated. That changes everything." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "The green flash, Harry. That was the Killing Curse. There's no other spell that produces light like that. The Headmaster used an Unforgivable Curse on a student."
Harry's blood ran cold. He had thought the same thing when the ghost mentioned the green flash of light.
It was hard to imagine that someone like Albus Dumbledore would employ such a nasty spell, but that was the reality of this world.
"But Daphne, that's exactly why we need to expose him," Harry said. "If they knew what h-"
"Expose him to whom?" Daphne's voice rose. "The Ministry? Dumbledore controls the Ministry. The Wizengamot? Arthur Weasley is the Chief Warlock. Dumbledore himself appointed him. The press? They print what he tells them to print. There's no one to expose him to, Harry. He is the system."
"If people knew the truth-"
"Even if people knew, they wouldn't care." Daphne grabbed his arm, her fingers digging into his sleeve. "Don't you understand? Albus Dumbledore controls everything. The Ministry, the Wizengamot, the press. Even most of the professors. If we tried to accuse him of murder, we would be the ones who received the punishment. We would be sent to re-education, have our memories wiped clean, or worse."
Harry thought of Filch's words. "The ones who anger the Headmaster… tend to disappear."
"But we have evidence," he said, holding up the torn jumper. "This proves the Weasleys were involved."
"It proves someone wearing a red jumper was at the cave. That letter 'G' won't be enough to ascertain anything," Daphne said. "It also doesn't prove Dumbledore ordered it. It doesn't prove he cast the curse. The Weasleys would deny everything. And who would the Ministry believe? The sons of the Chief Warlock, or two first-years with no family connections?"
Harry opened his mouth to argue, but the words died in his throat.
She was right. This system was rigged against them.
"Potter, listen to me." Daphne's voice softened, but her eyes were hard. "My father tried to stay neutral during the war. He thought that if he didn't pick a side, he could keep our family safe. Do you know what happened?"
Harry shook his head, even though he knew a few things already.
"Dumbledore sent Aurors to our house in the middle of the night. They dragged my father to Azkaban without a trial. They took our vault, our house, and almost everything we owned. My mother was left with nothing but a small shop in Knockturn Alley and a daughter who was too sick to attend Hogwarts." Her voice trembled. "The Greengrass family went from being one of the most powerful houses in Britain to being reduced to a single old shop that barely anyone visits. And all because my father refused to bow to Dumbledore."
Harry remembered the history book. Lord Greengrass was sentenced to life in Azkaban for his nonpartisanship during the war, failing to fulfill his duty as the Lord of an ancient wizard house. At least, according to the Ministry of Magic.
"You're an orphan, Harry," Daphne continued. "You have no magical family to protect you. No one would even notice if you disappeared. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
Harry swallowed. "You're saying I should give up."
"That is up to you, but what I'm saying is that you should be more careful with what you do in this place." Daphne released his arm. "Help Pansy say goodbye to her brother. Give him a proper burial, if you can. I'll help you make more batches of the potion. But don't try to bring Dumbledore to justice. Because you can't win… no one can."
She stood up, brushing the snow from her robes.
"I'm going back to the castle," she said. "I need to think. And I suggest you do the same."
She walked away without looking back.
Harry sat alone on the frozen shore, the torn jumper still clutched in his hand.
The wind howled across the ice, cutting through his damp clothes like a knife. But Harry barely felt it. His mind was spinning, replaying Daphne's words over and over.
"You can't win. No one can."
He looked out at the black water of the lake, now sealed by a thin layer of new ice. Somewhere beneath that surface, Alistair Parkinson's body lay chained to a rock. His ghost was trapped in a cave, silenced by runes, unable to leave.
And the man who put him there is the same man who smiles at the students in the Great Hall. Who offers me sherbet lemons and tells me he has high hopes for me.
Harry felt sick.
He pushed himself to his feet; his legs felt a bit unsteady. The torn jumper was stuffed into his pocket.
<><><><><><><><>
The walk back to the castle was slow and painful.
Harry's limbs were heavy, his mind numb. He avoided the main corridors, sticking to the shadowed passages that people rarely used. A few times, he thought he heard footsteps behind him, but when he turned, there was nothing there.
The castle was silent, but he still had a bit of time before curfew, so he made one quick stop first.
He reached the Room of Requirement without incident. The door appeared on his third pass. He pushed it open and stepped inside.
The room had changed again. It was smaller now, more intimate, with a single armchair by a crackling fire. A wooden chest sat at the foot of the chair, its lid open.
Harry collapsed into the chair and stared into the flames.
'Dumbledore killed him,' he thought. 'He murdered a student and trapped his ghost. And no one can do anything about it.'
He looked at the torn jumper in his hand. The burgundy wool was warm to the touch, the golden lion still bright. He thought of the Weasley twins ...their cruel smiles, their expensive robes, the way they had looked at him on the train like he was something to be crushed.
'They were Junior Inquisitors. They dragged Alistair to McGonagall. They must have known what would happen to him.'
Harry recalled how Ron had tried to do the same thing to him on the third-floor corridor, but was stopped by the ghost.
'What if Alistair hadn't appeared?' The thought crept into his mind like a cold draft. Ron would have dragged him to McGonagall. She would have sent for Dumbledore.
'Would I have suffered the same fate? Would I be chained at the bottom of the lake right now, my mouth sealed with runes, my ghost unable to speak?'
He shivered at the thought.
Harry stood up and tossed the jumper into the chest. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out the parchment with the runes...the seal that had been placed over Alistair's mouth. The symbols still glowed faintly, pulsing with dark magic.
'Evidence,' he thought. 'Evidence that no one will ever see.'
He placed the parchment in the chest and closed the lid.
<><><><><><><><><><><><>
The Slytherin common room was empty. The fire had burned down to embers, casting a dim orange glow across the leather sofas.
After reaching his bedroom, he changed out of his wet clothes, hung them near the dying fire, and climbed into his four-poster bed. He lay on his back, staring at the canopy above him.
It was a good thing that he was the only one here, so he didn't have to answer any questions about his whereabouts.
Once he felt a bit more relaxed, he took out the diary from its hiding place beneath the floorboards. The leather cover was soft and worn, the pages filled with his cramped handwriting.
He sat in the bed, pulled out his ballpoint pen, and began to write about today's events.
"We found Alistair's body. It was chained in an underwater cave, preserved by the cold. His mouth was sealed with runes to stop him from speaking, even as a ghost. There were runes on the walls, trapping him there."
"The ghost appeared. He told us what happened. He was investigating the third-floor corridor. Dumbledore's private chambers. He found a door, maybe leading to a dungeon. Before he could enter, the Weasley twins caught him. They dragged him to McGonagall, who sent for Dumbledore."
"The Headmaster told him, 'You should have known what happens to those who break the rules.' Then there was a green flash. Probably the Killing Curse, although Alistair doesn't remember the details of his last moments."
"But one thing is sure: Dumbledore murdered him. He murdered a student and hid the body in the lake. He trapped the ghost so no one would ever know. Professor McGonagall and the Weasley twins were also involved in this."
Harry paused, his pen hovering over the page.
"Daphne says we should forget it. She says we can't win against Dumbledore."
"And she's right. I know she's right."
"But I can't forget about this. I can't pretend I didn't see what I saw. Alistair begged me for help. And all I can do is bring Pansy to say goodbye to her brother. Where is the justice in this world?"
"I don't know what could be hidden behind that door in the third-floor corridor. But whatever it is… Dumbledore seems to think it's worth killing for."
He thought of Daphne's warning. "You can't win. No one can."
Harry could understand where she was coming from. Her family had lost nearly everything for simply going against Dumbledore's wishes. He could imagine the sense of despair and impotence they must have felt.
It wasn't just fighting against one man. It was fighting against an entire system that had been reformed to keep him in power.
This was a very different situation from the original story he still remembered fondly. Voldemort was a threat because he was a powerful wizard, but he lacked the backing of the entire government. He was a criminal, a terrorist, and people were glad when he was gone.
Albus Dumbledore was the country's leader. Perhaps not as beloved as he would like, but still untouchable.
'But I can't just do nothing,' Harry thought. 'I can't just pretend this didn't happen.'
He wrote one final line in his diary.
"I will help Pansy say goodbye. I will keep the evidence safe. And one day, when I'm strong enough..."
He stopped there, unsure about how to finish that line. What should he do if he were a powerful wizard like Dumbledore?.
He did not know that yet, but he was sure about one thing...for as long as Dumbledore remains in power, things were not going to get better in this twisted world.
He closed the diary and hid it under a loose floorboard.
Harry lay in the darkness, staring at the canopy above him.
"You can't win," Daphne's words resounded in his head.
'Maybe not right now,' Harry thought. 'But I can survive and remember. And then, one day...'
A.N: - Remember to comment, vote, and/or leave a review if you have the time. Those things help me a lot and I would really appreciate it.
You can support me on P@treon if you like and get 10 advanced chapters. You can also find character images to view for free in Collections/Harry Potter: Mirror Images
-.com/Kriogenix
For donations and commissions, go to .com/kriogenix