Harry arrived before sun up to Hogwarts. McGonagall was up and shared tea with him in her office as the portraits of the headmasters looked on. Dumbledore was particularly pale, Harry thought. Maybe that was a bad sign.

He had no stomach for the tea, but he drank it anyway. McGonagall didn't say much. She was very distressed and Harry didn't much feel like making small talk. He kept glancing at the clock. The Board was supposed to arrive at ten and then James would be called up. Harry felt sick to his stomach. He finally asked the question he had been dreading.

"What do you think they will do, Minerva?"

She looked up at Harry with rheumy eyes. He seldom called her by her name. But they both needed that little comfort right now. She shook her head.

"Harry, I wish I knew. Because you are Harry Potter...well. That might make a difference. But with all the negative publicity lately, I don't know-"

"That's done with," said Harry harshly. "I'm moving back in with Ginny."

She looked at Harry as if he had lost his mind. Surely he had.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I'm done with it. It's too much. No one is happy about it. No one. And I can't sacrifice my children anymore for some dream that doesn't make sense. I'm moving back home. I'm stopping the divorce. It's over."

McGonagall stared at Harry, her mouth hanging open. The portraits looked at one another. Harry noticed a hand from another portrait pushing at Dumbledore's shoulder but the old wizard refused to say anything. It was just as well. Harry didn't want to hear any moldy platitudes. He wanted it all over with.

He refused to think of Draco. Refused to picture him reading the note Harry left; refused to imagine his face when he saw the empty wardrobe and bathroom with Harry's things gone. It was over. Draco would understand. He'd get over it. Just like everyone was telling him his kids would do.

The clock struck the hour and not too long thereafter, there was a knock on the door. McGonagall stood at her place and whisked away the tea things with a wave of her wand. "Come!" she called, and twelve grumpy-looking witches and wizards entered. McGonagall conjured twelve chairs and a long table for them and they took their places. McGonagall sat again and Harry followed suit.

"Minerva," said the head witch, "we are convened here to look into the case of James Potter. I presume this is his father, Harry Potter."

As if they didn't know, Harry fumed. He stood again and made a respectful bow.

"Mr. Potter, are you aware of the charges against your son?"

"Yes. But I haven't spoken with him yet and it's very important that I do."

"Of course. But I think it best we review the circumstances first before we speak to the boy."

Agitated, Harry sat again.

The witch conjured some parchment and read from it. "'James Potter was discovered last night in the restricted section of the library. He was researching reverse love spells-' My, my. That is very dangerous. Some of these curses are almost impossible to reverse. And he a second year. What was the purpose to which the boy wished to put these spells?"

You very well know! he wanted to shout. Harry cleared his throat. "Recently, I became aware of my-my sexual orientation and I separated from his mother. But I have since had a change of heart and intend to move back home today. That's what I wanted to talk with him about."

There was a rumbling amongst the board and the head witch shushed them. "I see. And when did this 'change of heart' come about?"

"This morning," said Harry. "But it has to be done. I can't sacrifice the happiness of my children any further."

The witch looked at Harry with narrowed eyes and turned to her colleagues. "I am calling a recess. Ten minutes." The others looked surprised, but they shrugged and called the house-elves to bring them tea. The witch stood at her place and waited by the door. "Walk with me, Mr. Potter."

Harry looked back at McGonagall but her questioning look only reflected his own. He joined the tall woman by the door and they exited down the Griffin stair.

They walked a long way down the quiet corridor before she spoke

"I tell you what, Mr. Potter. I should like to talk to your son privately." She took out her wand and sent a Patronus. It was a barn swallow and it swooped down the corridor in search of James Potter.

Soon Harry recognized that familiar shuffle of feet. James Potter, swimming in his black robes, followed the small Patronus until he spied the witch-and Harry. He looked pale and frightened. When he approached Harry he lowered his eyes.

"Mr. James Potter, I presume? I am Cassandra Midgen. I am the head witch on the Board of Governors. Please come with me."

Before Harry could say anything, she led James into an empty classroom and closed the door. But strangely, their conversation was broadcast outside the room. She must have cast a form of Sonorus. For Harry's benefit?

"There. Sit down, Mr. Potter," she said to James. Harry leaned against the wall, staring at his scuffed shoes. He supposed he was to wait. "My younger sister was a seventh year the year your father defeated Voldemort," she said. "She was there, in fact. On the front lawn. She saw it all. Are you aware of those circumstances, young man? Have you been told the stories? Perhaps even your father has regaled you on his exploits."

James mumbled something and she told him to speak up. He cleared his throat. "My dad never talks about it. I've heard about it from my relatives and then I read about it in Hogwarts: A History."

"Never spoke about it? Not once?"

"My dad doesn't like to talk about it."

"Extraordinary. Well, then you surely know that the Wizarding world was at the end of its collective rope. We were done for. And families like mine, Half-bloods, were in trouble. Not as much trouble as those Muggleborns. I believe your aunt, Hermione Weasley, is Muggleborn."

"Yes," he answered quietly.

"Then you must also know that Muggleborns were to be either enslaved by wizardkind or simply disposed of. Your aunt would have been killed. And you would never have had your cousins Hugo and Rose. Isn't that correct?"

"Um...I guess so. I never thought about it."

"Well I suggest you do, young man. There is a reason we teach history. So that those who were not there would know what transpired, both the good and the bad so that-hopefully-we could learn from our mistakes and rejoice in our triumphs. History is not merely the retelling of dusty dates and old Goblin wars."

Harry sighed. If Binns was still teaching it, it was.

"On that day, nineteen years ago," she went on, "your father saved every last one of us from horrible enslavement. Even those who called themselves Death Eaters. Yes, they were enslaved as well. Some more than others. While it is true that the Malfoys were in the thick of it, it was toward the culmination of Voldemort's plans that they had begun to be as ill-used as any other chaff beneath the Dark Lord's feet. There were even a few Death Eaters who testified-and some not under Veritaserum-that the Malfoys were failing rapidly in Voldemort's eyes and had little wish to help him in his cause. Not that I am defending Lucius Malfoy, but his son Draco did fine work in the Ministry, helping to find homes for Wizarding children orphaned in the war."

Harry gasped. He had never actually known what Draco did for a living. He thought it was just some name-only position. He felt horrible that he hadn't known.

"I see your skepticism, boy," she said. "Well let me tell you. Today, he still finds homes for orphaned Wizarding children. If he cannot place them in Wizarding homes, he does extended research and places them with Muggles who have distant relations with wizards. He carefully schools these Muggles to be able to be parents to these children, breaching long-standing laws against revealing the Wizarding world to Muggles. And he does this work in complete secrecy. If he were to be caught doing this, he would be in breach of one of our harshest laws and sent to Azkaban. As much as you dislike Mr. Malfoy for your perceived notions of his status as 'Home-wrecker', can you honestly say you would wish for his work to cease and for him to be sent to prison?"

Harry held his breath. Of course, James could simply answer the question in the way he knew the woman wanted to hear, but he heard the hesitation and quivering in his son's voice, and he felt the answer was genuine.

"No, ma'am."

"Indeed. I believe I was telling you about my sister. As I said, she was there on that day your father defeated Voldemort. She said when Voldemort fell and no longer moved, she was one of the many who cheered and lifted your father up. She said it was the single most important moment of her life and she would never forget it. On that day, she changed entirely what she intended to do with her life. Instead of becoming a cosmetic Transfigurations specialist, she devoted her life to St. Mungo's in their Incurables department. Because of your father, countless witches, wizards, and Muggles have been saved because she and others like her were inspired to do good in the world." She paused and took a breath. "May I ask you something else?"

Harry heard the chairs shift.

"Has your father ever told you about the Muggle family who raised him? What his life was like prior to his entering Hogwarts?"

"No," came the feeble reply.

"I thought not. Well I shall tell you. He was treated like a house-elf. He was belittled, forced into labour, and shoved under the stairs instead of having a proper room to sleep in. Your father was given no love, no comfort, no friendship-none of the basic human needs."

Harry could hear James crying now. Harry wiped the wet from his own face.

"And did your father-after being treated thusly-become a dark wizard? Answer me, boy."

"N-no."

"No, he did not. True, his adventures in Hogwarts were sometimes less than stellar, but his intentions were always to the betterment of others. If he plotted, he plotted to stop another student from doing harm to another. If he stole into the restricted section of the library, it was to learn how to defeat Voldemort the many times he encountered him. It was not to find a dastardly curse and harm another person for selfish reasons!

"Mr. Potter, do you think for one moment I will allow you to throw away any scrap of happiness for your father? Do you think the Wizarding world does not owe him anything he desires? And do you know what it is he desires? Your happiness. Once again, Harry Potter is sacrificing himself for the happiness of others. Do you know what he has told the board this morning? He told us that he is leaving Mr. Malfoy to move back in with your mother. He told us that he cannot live that life anymore knowing how much unhappiness it has brought to you and your family. Tell me, Mr. Potter. Do you think after all Harry Potter has done for the world that this is right?"

James was crying openly now, sobbing words Harry couldn't understand. He cried for a while until Midgen intervened.

"There, there, James," she said, quieter. "I know you didn't realize all that. I just knew you didn't. And I knew that if it was laid plainly before you that you were a reasonable boy and that you did indeed take after your father. You wouldn't want him to be unhappy because of your actions anymore than he wished to make you unhappy because of his. What do you suppose is the solution to this?"

James sobbed out something and the witch concurred. "Yes. I think that is a good idea. Shall I call him in?"

The door suddenly swung open, and Harry saw James through the doorway, his face in his hands, still sobbing. Harry's heart cried out to help him, but Cassandra Midgen blocked the doorway. "Mr. Potter, I think your son is ready to speak to you now. When you are finished, please return to Headmistress McGonagall's office for our decision."

She passed through the archway and walked quickly down the stone corridor back the way they had come. Harry approached the doorway and walked into the room. James was wiping his face and looking up at his father. He wore the most sorrowful expression Harry had ever seen. Suddenly, he launched from his chair and wrapped himself around Harry. He was sobbing harder, his face buried in Harry's robes. Harry embraced him, rocking him. He laid his cheek on James' head and cried along with him.

"I'm sorry, Dad. I'm really sorry. I didn't know. I didn't know! I'll never do it again. You don't have to do anything for me. I just want you to be happy. Firecall Mr. Malfoy and I'll apologize to him, too."

Harry was speechless. He held his son tightly and James seemed to want to let it all out. "I wanted to hurt him, Dad. I did. But I don't anymore. I want you to be happy, Dad. I want him in your life. Don't leave him for me. I know it won't do any good. You and Mum aren't going to work anymore. I know all that. I do."

James pulled away and looked up at his father. Harry was incapable of speech and looked down at his son, trying to convey with the love in his eyes how much he appreciated what his son was saying.

James wiped fitfully at his face and took a deep breath. "I mean it, Dad. Even if they expel me, I want you to stay with Mr. Malfoy. I'll even take Lily to tea at your London house myself. Honest. I love you, Dad. You're a great man."

Harry rolled his moist eyes. "That's...quite a speech. I'm not raising your allowance for it, just so you know."

James laughed. Relieved, he laughed some more, and hugged his father again.

After a few more moments, Harry Scourgified their robes and their faces. "Do you think we look presentable again?" asked Harry.

"Yeah. But...Dad. Do you think I'll be expelled?"

"I don't know, son."

"If I am, will you and Mr. Malfoy tutor me?"

Harry never felt prouder of his son than he did right now. He kissed his forehead and took a deep breath, trying to keep from crying all over again. "Let's go."

Back they went to McGonagall's office, riding the Griffin stair to their fate. So much had transpired in that office, thought Harry. Some of the most important decisions of his life were made there. He hoped this one would turn out all right.

When they entered, Harry glanced at Cassandra Midgen, but her stern face made no indication what they had decided.

"Mr. James Potter," she said. "Have you anything to say?"

James stepped forward. "Yes, ma'am. I want to say that what I was doing was completely wrong and mean-spirited. It was not worthy of a Gryffindor, a Hogwarts student...or a Potter." He looked at Harry sorrowfully. "If you wish to expel me I will entirely understand and hold no ill will for any of you. You will only be doing your jobs. Anyone who tries to do what I did doesn't belong here. I am truly sorry." He swallowed and turned toward McGonagall. "Professor, I am deeply sorry for all this trouble. Even if I'm expelled I am prepared to do whatever detention you ask of me. Really." He sniffed, almost crying again. "I just want my father to be proud of me again."

Harry put his hand on James' shoulder and squeezed. He was never prouder.

Midgen seemed to be touching her own eyes before she whipped her head up. "Well now. Thank you, Mr. Potter. I believe the board has made its decision." She took up a parchment one of the others handed to her. She read: "'It is the decision of the board to put James Potter on two weeks probation. If in that time he has adequately proven his worthiness to remain, the board shall advise that he continue his schooling at Hogwarts. Headmistress McGonagall shall supervise and make her recommendation.' We are adjourned."

James looked up at Harry. "What does it mean?"

Harry was grinning from ear to ear. "It means your staying. You'll be in detention for the rest of your life, but you're staying."

He sighed deeply and smiled back.

The chairs and tables winked out of existence and the board filed out. Midgen remained and shook James' hand. "A very fine speech, Mr. Potter. And may I say, those sentiments were surely worthy of a Potter."

"Thank you, ma'am. I really meant them."

"I know you did." She looked up at Harry. "You have a very fine boy here, Mr. Potter. I am very pleased to have met both of you."

Harry shook her hand and watched as she left with the others.

McGonagall made a relieved sigh. "Well now! That's one thing taken care of. I need not tell you, young man, that much detention awaits you."

"I look forward to it," said James, smiling.

"Do you have anything to say to your father before he leaves?"

"We've already spoken, Minerva," said Harry.

"Then if I need to owl you, I expect I will call for you at the London house, will I not?"

Harry looked at James who nodded solemnly. "Yes," he said, a tear leaking from his eye again. "I expect you can. Oh!" Harry remembered the note he left for Draco. "I'd better get home fast and console someone."

He left by Floo and when he arrived in the sitting room at the London house, it looked as if a cyclone had passed through. Books were torn apart, the walls were scarred with hexes, vases were shattered. Harry's Auror instinct fell into place and he whipped out his wand. "Draco!"

Rushing through the house, Harry stopped dead when he spotted Draco with a plate over his head ready to smash it to the ground. His eyes were red and there were tear tracks down his face. He stared at Harry, his expression wounded and heartrending.

"Oh, Draco. My love. I'm back. And I'll never leave again." Draco dropped the plate and fell into Harry's arms.

"Don't ever, ever-!"

"No, I won't."

"You promised!"

"I know. But they needed me. My children. They love me."

"But I love you, too. And I need you!"

"I know. It's all right now. It's all right. Everything is going to be all right."


On to The Epilogue
"Nine Years Later"

Back to Chapter Seven
"Mending"

Chapter Index
King's Cross Main Page

Mystwriter's Story Page