Xenophilius Lovegood. It couldn't be.
Luna's father would never do such a thing. He was a bit of an oddball, but he was a kind man, he always meant well. But the evidence in front of Harry said otherwise. Harry's mind was racing. Why? Why would Mr Lovegood do this to him? He cast his mind back to the night of the party when Mr Lovegood had dragged Luna away from Draco and the look of utter contempt that he had drawn him. Harry knew that there was no love lost between the Malfoys and the Lovegoods, but to go as far as poisoning him? It just didn't make any sense.
But of course, it hadn't been Harry's daughter who had been held captive for months on end. And it had been Mr Lovegood who had alerted the Snatchers to their whereabouts in an effort to free Luna from her imprisonment. Harry knew from experience that Luna's father would do anything to protect his daughter, but Harry was still struggling to contemplate the idea that he would ever hurt anyone out of spite. There was only one sure way of finding out the truth.
Harry opened the door a little and peered out, watching Ron and Hermione chatting animatedly with Mr Weasley. They had followed him to hell and back, but ultimately, Harry needed to walk the rest of this path on his own. It was always The Chosen One, not the Chosen Trio , he thought with bitter sadness. It was a burden that he must carry alone. It was always the way.
***
"Well it's definitely something the Department would be interested in," said Mr Weasley. "What does George have to say about expanding the business to include research and development contracts to the Ministry?"
"I haven't spoken to him about it yet," Ron admitted. "I wanted to speak to you first and see if you thought it was worth pursuing."
"Well, speak to your brother first before I contact Kingsley on the matter. Although I think there could be a lot of potential—"
The rest of Mr Weasley's words were drowned out as a deafening alarm rang out. He and all the other Aurors jumped to their feet and pulled out their wands.
"What's going on?" asked Hermione.
"Someone's Apparated out of the Ministry," said Mr Weasley. "We had security measures put in place that are supposed to prevent things like that from happening."
Without another word, Ron pushed passed his father and sprinted towards Emlyn and Adofo's office.
"Ron, what's going on?" called Mr Weasley, chasing after him.
Ron burst through the office door without knocking. "Harry?"
Predictably, there was no reply. Harry was gone. Ron's eyes fell on the papers scattered all over the floor.
"Shit," he muttered.
***
Harry Apparated outside of the Lovegood's house. The wind violently whipped Harry's hair all over his face as he looked up at the steely grey sky. A storm was coming. Harry observed his surroundings for signs of life but saw none. The last time Harry had been here the house had largely been destroyed by an exploding Erumpent horn, but it now stood largely rebuilt except for some scaffolding on the roof. Harry felt strangely calm as he climbed the stone steps towards the front door, still not entirely sure what he was going to say, afraid to ponder what he might do if someone answered. He knocked firmly on the door and waited.
A few moments passed and the front door opened.
"Hello, Mr Lovegood," said Harry.
Xenophilius Lovegood frowned down at Harry for a moment, then said curtly, "Harry Potter? I'm afraid Luna's not here at the moment but I'll let her know you came by."
He made to close the door but an invisible force ripped the door from its hinges and tossed it high into the air. The door crashed into the pumpkin patch with a resounding crash as pieces of pulverised pumpkin exploded all over the garden. Mr Lovegood gasped and took a step back, his pale eyes wide with fear.
"Actually, I came here to speak to you," said Harry, stepping into the house.
Mr Lovegood staggered backwards, then after a few moments, he seemed to regain his composure again. He glared at Harry and snarled, "I've got nothing to say to you. Get out of my house or I'll call the Aurors."
"You won't be doing that," said Harry quietly. "Because if you do that, the Aurors will know what you did."
The colour drained from Mr Lovegood's pale face and he took another step back. Harry took another step closer. His expression was eerily calm, but his magic thrummed and pulsed all around him like a storm cloud.
"I just want to ask you a few questions," Harry explained. "And I expect you to answer them honestly. Please, take a seat."
A wooden chair scraped forward and caught the back of Mr Lovegood's legs. He yelped as the chair pushed him off his feet and into an awkward sitting position. Harry remained standing and stooped over him.
"I always thought you were an eccentric man, but never unkind. I know you love Luna very much, that you'd do anything to protect her, including hand me and my friends over to Voldemort if the opportunity arose," said Harry. Xenophilius sneered at him but said nothing. "I understood why you did it— most people probably would have done the same thing if they were in your position. But I never thought that you would have deliberately set out to hurt anyone on purpose. I realise now that was naive of me."
"Luna is more forgiving than I am," said Mr Lovegood darkly.
"I can see that," Harry agreed. "Those pictures in The Prophet. You took them, didn't you?"
There was a long pause before he finally answered. "Yes, I did." Harry felt his stomach twist and the floor shook a little. Mr Lovegood eyed the room curiously before letting his gaze fall back on Harry, "What gave me away?"
"A Latin anagram," Harry answered, pulling the magazine out of his cloak. "It's the typical sort of puzzles and nonsense found between the pages of the Quibbler. And your pseudonym also happens to be the answer to one of the puzzles. Not a smart move on your part."
Harry tossed the magazine at Mr Lovegood. It hit him hard across the chest and slid to the floor.
"Vengeance will be mine," said Harry. "Vengeance against the Malfoy's for kidnapping Luna. And against me for being in a relationship with the man who, in your mind, is responsible for the imprisonment of your daughter."
"You betrayed us!" hissed Mr Lovegood, his face contorted in fury. "After everything that they did, after everything that happened, you took up with that bastard like nothing had happened. Fraternising with Death Eaters is bad enough, but the very one who had my daughter locked up and tortured...and then he had the gall to speak to her at the party like they were friends! It was intolerable. And to hear everyone fawning over the two of you like it's all perfectly normal. It makes me sick."
"The war's over," Harry reminded him. "Draco Malfoy was released without charge—"
"THE WAR MIGHT BE OVER FOR YOU, BUT NOT FOR EVERYONE ELSE," yelled Mr Lovegood, losing all composure. "The war still goes on for most of us, as fresh in their minds as the bodies we laid in the aftermath of the final battle. We see the mistakes of the past repeated, even though we did everything we could to stop it. Death Eaters set free without recompense, tortures and killings and disappearances gone unpunished— where is the justice in that? For some of us, the war never ends. My daughter was tortured and imprisoned by that boy and his family. She still wakes up screaming every night thinking she's back in those cells, and there's nothing I can do to stop it. Well, not nothing."
Mr Lovegood sat up defiantly in his seat and crossed his arms. "What I did is small recompense for what you both really deserve. I've no regrets about what I did, so if you came here for an apology then you're wasting your breath. I'm glad it hurt you both, and I hope it hurt him the most."
Something deep in Harry's heart seemed to fracture at these words. Mr Lovegood was still talking, but all Harry could hear was a loud ringing noise like alarm bells. He had already been struggling to keep the violent roll and surge of emotion in him from spilling over, now it was tumbling and stretching out like tendrils. He clenched his eyes shut and roared. Mr Lovegood screamed and when Harry's eyes opened he saw that the man was no longer sitting on the chair, but was pinned against the wall, spread-eagle and unable to move. The room was shaking violently as furniture and household items flew around the room, plates and chairs smashing off of the walls, shattering and splintering into a thousand pieces.
Harry was suddenly afraid, he hadn't lost control of his magic like this in a very long time. He dug his nails into his scalp and pulled his hair, screaming, feeling as though his magic would tear him apart along with the house. But the moment passed, and he allowed his fear to be overcome by pure rage. He let his hands fall limp by his sides, and he looked up at Mr Lovegood, his pale eyes bulging in terror. He looked so small and pathetic, pinned like a moth on display, and the thought of Mr Lovegood as a frightened, overgrown insect gave Harry a deep, terrifying sense of satisfaction.
Harry took a step closer and snarled, "How would you like it if I made you feel like Draco did? How about I put you on display for all the world to mock, just like this, before I hurt you like you hurt him?"
Mr Lovegood's eyes widened in fear as Harry drew his wand and pointed it directly at the man's face. Draco was going to die and Harry would be all alone again. And it was all Mr Lovegood's fault. No, it was Harry's fault. Everyone else died for the Boy Who Lived, and he hated himself for it. Well, at least this time he could get vengeance for Draco. Harry didn't care what happened to him afterwards, his rage was now all-consuming, and Harry was resolute in his decision.
He raised his wand above his head, ready to strike when a scream from behind him made him pause and turn. Hermione, Ron, Mr Weasley and several Aurors were stumbling into the house. The Aurors had their wands all pointed at Harry, ducking and dodging the maelstrom of furniture still flying around the room.
"Harry, stop!" yelled Hermione. "You got it all wrong!"
Harry shook his head. "No, Hermione. He sent the pictures to the Prophet. He was the one who hurt Draco. He confessed to me just before you got here. I'm just going to give him what he deserves."
"NO!" screamed Hermione rushing forward, then stumbling back as an airborne table missed her face by mere inches. "Harry, you have to listen to me! Mr Lovegood sent the pictures but he didn't poison Malfoy! You've got the wrong man!"
"YOU'RE LYING!" screamed Harry.
"She's not lying, Harry!" yelled Ron. "Please listen to us, we're telling the truth!"
Harry hesitated. "But...he said..."
"I don't know what he told you, but I swear to you on my life, it wasn't him," Hermione cried. "He's innocent!"
Harry shook his head in confusion. "No...he..."
What did Mr Lovegood actually say? Harry turned to look at the man, who seemed to be trying to communicate something with his eyes. Harry felt his fury wain and was now overwhelmed with confusion. What was going on?
"Harry, please," Hermione pleaded. "Please, let him go. He didn't do this."
Harry stood unmoving and unsure. He looked at everyone in the room and saw fear in their eyes, even Ron and Hermione's. With a realisation that hit him like a bludger, he realised that the most dangerous person in the room was himself. The resolution to cause pain that had consumed him only moments before dissipated and in its place he became overwhelmed with shame. He lowered his wand and let it slip through his fingers. It clattered noisily onto the floor before rolling away. A moment later, everything that was flying around the room crashed to the ground along with Mr Lovegood, who slid down the wall and crumpled onto the floor in a pile, gasping for breath.
The Aurors rushed forward, grabbed Harry and began to drag him out of the house, but Harry didn't struggle against them. He avoided looking at his friends as he passed, but he could hear Hermione crying as he was hauled outside into the raging wind, stumbling over his feet which seemed to have turned to lead. What had he done? What had he almost done?
TWO DAYS AGO
Harry lay in bed staring up at the blank ceiling of his small cell. He'd been brought here immediately after he'd been arrested at the Lovegood's house. The only interruption to his thoughts duing this stay had been Mr Weasley coming to check on him (probably to make sure that he hadn't blown up the cell as he'd nearly done to Mr Lovegood's house) and a few Ministry guards popping in to hand him his meals.
Harry listened to the shuffling of feet outside his cell door, but he didn't even bother to sit up when he heard the door creak open. He glanced round to see who his visitor was and was shocked to see Kingsley Shacklebolt stepping into the room.
"Hello, Harry," he said in his booming voice.
Harry immediately sat up on his bed. "Hello, sir."
Kingsley eyed the cell carefully. "I take it that you've been well cared for?"
Harry shrugged. In all honestly, his time in the Ministry cells was still better than staying at the Dursleys. At least here, he was guaranteed three meals a day. "Are you here to discuss the charges against me?"
"Before we get to that," Kingsley took a seat next to Harry on the bed. "I think it important we get a few things cleared up, namely the persons responsible for putting Mr Malfoy in the hospital."
"Persons?" said Harry sharply. "You know who did it?"
"That we do," said Kingsley. Harry waited with bated breath and Kingsley replied, "The culprits are Euphemia Rowle and Rodolphus Lestrange."
Harry frowned/ "Rodolphus...I thought he was in Azkaban?"
"He still is," Kingsley confirmed. "But it seems that he's been corresponding with Ms Rowle for some time now discussing plans to target former Order members— ideally yourself, of course. But when news reached Rodolphus that his dear nephew was now in a relationship with the same man responsible for putting him in prison, he focused his efforts entirely on targeting either one or both of you instead."
"I see," said Harry quietly. He supposed it made sense, Rodolphus was one of Voldemort's most loyal supporters, he wouldn't let something as inconvenient as the death of his beloved leader or life imprisonment stop him from exacting his revenge. "What will happen now?"
"He'll be put on trial," said Kingsley solemnly. "And if he is found guilty, he will receive the Dementor's Kiss."
Harry couldn't help the involuntary shiver at the thought. Some fates were definitely worse than death.
"Who is this woman, Euphemia?" asked Harry. "I recognise the name."
"Euphemia Rowle," repeated Kingsley. "Although not a Death Eater herself, her brother Thorfinn was. He was killed at the Battle of Hogwarts, so you can see how easy it was for Rodolphus to persuade her to act on his accord."
Harry nodded solemnly. "People will do almost anything for the people they love. Sometimes terrible things."
"Very true," Kingsley agreed. "We've spent the last two days hunting down Ms Rowle. She's currently in one of the interrogation rooms upstairs, although, with the mountain of evidence we have against her, she'll surely be convicted and sent to Azkaban."
"So Mr Lovegood had nothing to do with what happened to Draco."
"No, he did not," Kingsley confirmed.
Harry closed his eyes and sighed. A fresh wave of shame and disgust hit him at the realisation that he had nearly killed an innocent man. "Is he alright?"
"He's a little shaken up, but there is no permanent damage to his person," Kingsley assured him.
"Can I ask you something, sir?"
"You may," said Kingsley, smiling warmly.
"If Mr Lovegood didn't poison Draco, then why did he sign the pictures the way he did? Vengeance Will Be Mine— it sounds quite threatening."
"Ah yes," Kingsley sighed. "Mr Lovegood is well known for his theatrics. I believe he was merely trying to show off his cleverness there and the vengeance was supposed to be little more than a public strip down. He didn't think anyone would actually solve the anagram."
"He should have known better when Hermione's involved," said Harry. Kingsley laughed softly in agreement. Harry bowed his head and asked nervously, "So, what happens now?"
"Now?" asked Kingsley. "Now you go home."
Harry's head snapped up and he stared at the Minister. "What do you mean?"
"It seems that Mr Lovegood has decided not to press charges," said Kingsley with a small smile.
"Really?" asked Harry surprised. "Why not?"
"He feels that he may have been somewhat responsible for your outburst," Kingsley explained. "He said it was an error in judgment on his part to send those photographs to The Daily Prophet in the first place. While he had wanted to humiliate both yourself and Mr Malfoy, he had no intention of ever physically hurting either of you. When we told him that his photographs had more than likely been the cause of you both being targeted by Lestrange and Rowle, he was quite distressed."
"Oh," said Harry quietly. "Well...that's very generous of him."
"Harry, I have a slight confession to make to you, Harry," said Kingsley, looking a little embarrassed.
Harry frowned. "What is it, sir?"
Kingsley squirmed before admitting, "Mr Lovegood dropped the charges against you...two days ago."
Harry gaped at him. "Two days ago? Then why have you kept me in a cell?"
"There was some concern that if you found out Ms Rowle was the real perpetrator you might try to take things into your own hands— again," he admitted. "We thought that it was best to give you a couple of days to cool off and let the professionals do their job without having to worry about you...helping."
Harry glowered at Kingsley for a few moments, then his shoulders sagged and he grumbled, "I see your point."
Kingsley clapped his hands together and rose to his feet. "Very good. Well, that about settles everything."
Harry released a hard breath of relief. "I can't believe it. I'm really free to go?"
"That you are," said Kingsley, smiling more broadly.
Harry shook his head. "It's more than I deserve."
"Like you said," said Kingsley carefully. "People will do almost anything for the people they love. Sometimes terrible things. But I think it is important that we strive to forgive some transgressions. In the end, you did no serious damage to Mr Lovegood or his property."
"I could have done."
"That you could've," he acknowledged.
Harry hung his head in shame. "I really wanted to hurt him. After what he did— what I thought he did."
"But you did not. In the end, you made the right choice to lower your wand."
Harry nodded in acceptance then asked the question he was almost too afraid to hear the answer to. "Do you know how Draco's doing?"
Kingsley shook his head. "There's been no change in his condition as of yet, I'm afraid. But from what I've heard he's fighting hard."
Harry let out a shaky sigh. It wasn't much relief, but at least Draco was still alive, still fighting.
"Before you go, Harry, somebody requested to have a private word with you. If you don't mind?"
A moment later Luna stepped into the room. Harry felt his stomach clench uncomfortably, but he set his mouth into a thin line and nodded to Kingsley, who promptly exited the room leaving the two friends alone. Luna looked at Harry with big, sad eyes. She looked like she'd been crying.
"Luna," said Harry in a small voice. "I'm so sorry."
"I know you are," she replied. Her voice was sharp and had lost its dreamy quality. "I know it was my father who took those photographs and I've told him how angry I am with him about that. He's let me down as well as himself. But you came into my home and you frightened my father, you were going to hurt him."
"I know," said Harry, unable to meet her piercing gaze. "I thought...I thought he'd hurt Draco."
"I understand that you were upset about Draco and that you weren't thinking rationally, but you acted purely out of anger, not out of love. You and my father both did."
"I..." Harry swallowed hard. "I don't expect you to forgive me. And I know my apologies don't mean much. But I am sorry for what I did. I scared myself more than anything else, I didn't know I could lose control that badly."
A long silence followed before Luna said, "Love makes people do crazy things, Harry. Sometimes terrible things."
"Then maybe some people aren't fit for love," Harry muttered.
"Don't be stupid," she snapped. "We ought to pity those who live without love in their lives. Otherwise, what's the point in living?" Luna turned to leave then paused. She turned slightly to speak to him over her shoulder, "I don't feel like talking to you for a while, Harry."
"I understand."
"We're still friends," she said sadly. "I just need some time."
Luna left then without another word. Harry sat staring at the open door for a long time, more unsure than ever what he ought to do next.