Away Childish Things

Chapter 5

She said it all so calmly, like a history text. Harry swallowed hard. "Was he-Draco said a bad man killed my parents. Was it him-Voldemort?"

"Yes. Your parents fought him bravely." Andromeda went on sipping tea. "But that was a long time ago. Voldemort returned when you were at school."

"But Draco said a very brave man killed him," Harry said, frowning.

"Oh, yes." Andromeda sipped her tea. "That very brave man was you."

Harry's eyes went large. "Me?"

"You're a war hero, Harry."

Harry once more got the impression that Andromeda found something amusing.

"Did Draco neglect to mention it?" Andromeda asked.

"Maybe . . ." Harry swallowed again. "Maybe he didn't know."

"But everyone knows. Are you going to play your cards?"

"But I didn't really-Draco said the brave man didn't-he didn't really kill him," Harry said. "He said-I wouldn't . . . I'm not . . ." a killer, Harry was going to say, but he didn't know. He didn't know who he was when he grew up-a policeman who wasn't friends with Draco. For the first time, it occurred to Harry that he didn't know what he was capable of.

"He deserved to die." Andromeda put her cup down. "Do you know how many innocent people Voldemort and his Death Eaters slaughtered? We can pretend to be nice and claim that there are two sides to everything, that everyone deserves mercy and forgiveness, or we can face the reality that sometimes it's necessary to make tough choices to bring about a better world."

When the Polyjuice potion had hit his system, Harry's skin had stretched out, growing in all directions to accommodate longer limbs, a bigger torso, a large head. Harry felt a little like that now, only it was only happening inside his mind-that stretching out feeling, as though his mind was separating from his body and the chair and Andromeda, sitting there with her tea. "What's a Death Eater?" was all he asked.

"One of Voldemort's followers," said Andromeda. "They were a cult of people who did his bidding, carried out his murders, and aided his rise to power."

Harry's mind kept stretching, separated completely now, floating there above the table. "Was Draco," he began, but he already knew the answer.

"Yes." For the first time, Andromeda's voice gentled. "You must understand, Harry; he was very young. His parents both were Death Eaters, and he wasn't given a lot of options."

"His parents," Harry began, but he couldn't feel his voice. His throat wouldn't make the words come out; the words were with his mind-even though he could make his mouth move, just like a puppet.

"Harry," Andromeda said, reaching for his hand.

Harry snatched his hand away, jerking back from the table. His chair knocked back, clattering onto the floor. The sudden sound made him start and look down. "Sorry," he said, not sure how the chair had got that way.

"Draco wants to make up for his past," Andromeda said softly.

"He didn't tell me," Harry said.

"I imagine he wouldn't have wanted you to know."

Harry backed away from her.

"Perhaps we can finish our game later," Andromeda said, standing up. Her voice was kind, but she looked forbidding-tall, with straight shoulders, her grey hair swept up in a low bun. She wore a long, old-fashioned dress, and her nose was perfect, just like Draco's. "You look as though you would like time to yourself. Will you be all right?"