𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

Chapter 9

Transformation: Chapter Nine

For the most part, things returned to normal after that night. Ron and Hermione had hardly been mollified by the barebones story he told them the next morning, but both seemed in unspoken agreement that they would accept it for the time being, seeing as Harry didn't want to talk about it in the first place. Or think about it, come to that.

He had trusted Tonks. And he had trusted Draco. He didn't feel betrayed by them as much as he felt betrayed by himself. He could hear Moody barking Constant vigilance! and felt ashamed. Wouldn't he ever learn? The knowledge that Moody, too, had been fooled was little comfort.

The news had not made it in the Daily Prophet, of course, as Fudge seemed determined to strain out all relevant stories, but the Hogwarts rumor mill was running as usual. In the days after the attack, Harry heard from various sources that he had left Hogwarts to kill his aunt and uncle and finish the job he'd begun when he killed his cousin in July, that he had fought and killed a team of Aurors on the pretense they were all spies for Voldemort, and that he had been supporting an underground prostitution ring run by former professor Nymphadora Tonks. Harry could not decide which was the farthest from the truth.

And as for Draco, who miraculously was not a part of any of these rumors, he seemed to have forgotten that Harry existed. After almost six years of constant attention, whether wanted or unwanted, from him, his silent treatment was a shock.

The Slytherins flanked him everywhere, it seemed, much like Ron and Hermione did to Harry just afterwards. He never saw Draco on his own, and usually he was whispering with Pansy Parkinson or making Blaise Zabini snort with laughter. The more Harry watched for him, the more he wished he could talk to him again, but it was to no avail. If there had been anything left between them, Draco seemed to think it was gone.

Maybe it was, Harry thought sometimes, hearing his familiar derisive laughter in Potions or seeing him disappear around a corner up ahead of Harry in the hall. Maybe this was the way of it: Draco was his father's son, and Harry was James's. There would be no next time, because it would always be the same. Draco was who he was. Even the fact that Harry had wanted him could not change that.

There was so much between them, so many arguments, so many differences; in the end, it was simply easier to hate him. And it seemed that was exactly what Draco wanted, too.

It was barely a week after the incident with Tonks when Professor McGonagall strode into Harry's History of Magic class, interrupting a droning Binns and a thoroughly bored class to retrieve Harry. Ron had to poke him until he woke up, but he rapidly gathered his things and followed her from the room, Binns muttering, "Yes, yes, go ahead, Parker, off you go . . . where was I? Oh yes, the historic troll wars of 1352 . . ."

"Potter," McGonagall said coolly, when they had reached the hall, "the Headmaster would like to see you. I trust you can find your way there on your own."

"Yeah," Harry said, "what does he want? Professor?"

"I expect you will find out soon enough," she said, and eyed him with stern amusement. "Hold on just a moment, you've got a bit of drool right - yes, there you are."

Harry flushed and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Er, Professor? What's the password?"

To Harry's surprise, she gave him what might have been a wry smile and said, "Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, of course. Now hurry along, Potter."

She strode off in the opposite direction. Harry went down the Charms corridor, took the stairs to the second floor - which began to move just as he was nearly there, leaving him to jump the last three - and moved towards the empty corridor with the familiar stone gargoyle. It flexed its stone wings at him, but let him inside, and Harry rode the moving staircase upwards with trepidation. He wondered if there had been another attack. He wondered if more people had died because of him.

The first thing Harry saw when he entered the office was Dumbledore, who straightened immediately and smiled at him. "Ah, Harry," he began, but Harry was already staring in shock at the other occupants of the room. Before he knew it, his wand was clenched in his hand.

"Harry, wait," Tonks said. "I can explain."

"I don't want your explanation!" Harry snarled. He turned to Dumbledore, feeling betrayed, but Dumbledore only gave him an enigmatic smile, eyes twinkling. Harry turned back to Tonks, something tightening unpleasantly in his insides. "I don't want to hear a fucking word from you."

Beside Tonks sat an older, pale woman, who was clutching a black bag on her lap. She was looking around her in trepidation, and at Harry's outburst, she stared at him in fright.

"Calm down, Harry," Dumbledore said gently. "Tonks and her mother are here for a reason. If you refuse to listen to their explanation, perhaps you would permit me to clarify my purposes for bringing you-"

Harry still gripped his wand, feeling a surge of helpless hatred rush through him. He had come up with dozens of explanations for Tonks in the past week, in an almost desperate attempt to excuse what had happened, but here, with her before him, he only felt betrayed. "I don't care," he hissed. "I don't want to hear it."

"Now, Harry-"

"I said, I don't care! I'm leaving!"

Dumbledore's tone was serene, but there was no doubt that he meant it. "No, Harry," he said. "You are not leaving yet. If you cannot bear to hear it from either of us, perhaps you'd like to hear it from Alastor Moody himself. Do you trust him?"

"I don't trust anyone anymore," Harry snapped, but he took the paper that Dumbledore handed to him. It was folded several times over and creased in strange places, as if it had once been a paper airplane like the memos Harry had seen on his visit to the Ministry. He glanced down at it disinterestedly, fuming inside.

. . . the accused then described an incident in which she was approached by Narcissa Malfoy, formerly Narcissa Black, wife of Lucius Malfoy, a current fugitive wanted by the Ministry for Death Eater activity. Later, according to the testimony, the accused was also approached by Narcissa's sister, Bellatrix Lestrange, who is now in custody of the Ministry of Magic and slated to be tried for collaborating with You-Know-Who and for several counts of murder and excessive torture. Bellatrix Lestrange threatened the accused and claimed that she would "murder [her] mother's filthy Mudblood husband and cover [her] mother in his blood." Upon returning home, after rejecting the offer, Nymphadora found this exact scenario in the living room of her family's home . . .

Feeling sick, Harry skipped down several paragraphs.

. . . expressed greater desire to leave the employ of You-Know-Who, but she claims that she was repeatedly threatened . . . it is well known that those among You-Know-Who's Death Eaters agree to a lifetime of service and no less . . .

Harry glanced up at Tonks, whose eyes were trained on him, and her mother, who looked nowhere but her lap. Unable to meet Tonks's gaze, he looked back to the report.

. . . when she refused to kill Harry Potter, she claims she was threatened with death. Eventually, a new offer was made, in which the accused had only to deliver Harry Potter to those loyal to You-Know-Who in the guise of someone Harry trusted, and she would be granted freedom . . .

"You used me," Harry said coldly, meeting her eyes. "You selfish bitch. You thought you'd turn me in to save yourself."

"It wasn't like that, Harry," Tonks argued, giving him a pleading look, "I gave you a chance to save yourself, I made sure you had your wand before I gave you the Portkey-"

Harry stared at her without seeing her. "I said I don't want to hear a word from you. I don't care what you've got to say." He looked furiously down at the parchment again, to avoid Dumbledore's sorrowful gaze.

. . . arrived on the scene of the duel to, as she claimed, protect Harry from the fate she had set him. However, what she found was a capably Stunned Bellatrix Lestrange, and before she could explain herself to Harry Potter, he began to duel with her. Having no chance to respond, she dodged his spells, until he attempted the Killing Curse, though it did not succeed.