If Paths Diverge

Chapter 27

Harry had managed to sneak into work without anyone noticing.

He closed the door to his office and set his bag down onto his desk. There was a mountain of overdue paperwork piled ominously, chastising him for his absence.

A sharp rap on his door made him spin.

"Hey, Harry," Vanessa Thompson, a fellow Auror said, pushing his door open slightly so she could peer at him through the crack. "Robards said he wanted to see you first thing when you got back."

"I just walked in," Harry said through clenched teeth. "Give me a bloody second."

Thompson shot him an apologetic look.

"Sorry, but he said right away. You know how he gets. I'll wait outside."

Harry released a sigh and followed her to Robards's office.

"The BDE are relentless right now, with the Dark Idiot locked up in Diagon," Robards said, by way of greeting when Harry shut the door behind him.

The mention of Voldemort, though, had his full attention.

"They're hitting people all over," he went on, "trying to get close to him, but obviously the area is very well-protected. They can't touch him and I'm pretty confident about that fact. The lunatic is safe— ha." He let out a dark laugh. "Safe from safety. Safe from rescue."

Harry had no idea what to say to that. He stayed silent, his fingers flexing tightly, his head becoming clouded.

"I need you on security detail, but I'm going to place you with people you know, so they won't fawn over you as much. Tomorrow you're on Neville Longbottom. The BDE have been pretty clear that they want him in particular."

He raised an eyebrow at Harry and leaned back in his chair.

"They want you too, obviously, so don't fall asleep. Understand? Keep Longbottom safe, see if you can find any traps set up around his place, and then come back in. I'll want a report with any suggestions you have and we'll see what you think we can do to protect him without wasting a body to guard him."

Harry hadn't spoken a word, yet and he didn't think he could, even if asked. Thankfully, Robards seldom needed a conversation.

The man rubbed his chin, considering Harry.

"You've missed a lot, but I'm glad to see you're back with us." He paused and eyed him. "Percy may be by to see you. He had some questions for me."

Harry tried to control his reaction. Fuck. I bet he did. He nodded and Robards nodded back, his razor-sharp focus returning to his paperwork.

"Dismissed, Potter."

~*~

When Harry slowly collapsed onto his sofa that evening, he closed his eyes and all the pressure in his brain, all the torment and the guilt and the anxiety and everything came crashing over him at once, overwhelming him and drawing him under.

It was too much.

Harry knew he was sobbing and knew it wouldn't ever stop, knew he was lost and scared and so painfully alone, but he also knew he didn't deserve sympathy, didn't deserve to get better because it was his fault that Ron was dead. His fault that Voldemort was being tortured right now, right at this bloody moment.

It was all his fault and he couldn't do a damn thing.

If he went to Voldemort, it would be a betrayal of Ron and Hermione and everyone who fought against the Dark Lord. But if he allowed Voldemort to stay a prisoner, he was punishing the man for coming to save him, teaching him that compassion brought destruction.