After a horrible night of sleep Harry finally decided to wake up enough to take stock of his current situation. The hardest thing for him to comprehend is what Scrimgeour was going to gain by treating him as a prisoner. It was rather frightening to realize that at this point there was probably little anyone could do to get him out of this situation. Harry knew that the Minister wanted his cooperation and perhaps his dislike of the Ministry was well known and Scrimgeour figured that he would just have to imprison Harry to get that cooperation. Well, Harry knew that he distrusted the Ministry and apparently Scrimgeour knew this about Harry.

But what if Harry suddenly went along with everything the Minister said? How hard could it be to do a few interviews and take advantage of a few photo opportunities to make the rest of the Wizarding world think Harry and the Ministry were working together? Harry knew they should be working together, but with Fudge previously holding the Ministry’s highest position cooperation had been impossible. Now with Rufus Scrimgeour as Minister, perhaps Harry could convince everyone that he now supported the Minister’s view on the upcoming war and Voldemort’s return. Put on a good show for the public, so to speak.

Harry decided that when Scrimgeour came to see him this morning he would make it clear that they were on the same side. Perhaps he would get moved to better living quarters and actually get some food. Thinking of food made Harry’s stomach suddenly growl. What he wouldn’t give for a nice hot breakfast. He could have even tolerated Snape and Malfoy’s company at the moment as long as that company came with food.

Harry’s thoughts then drifted towards Snape. Was Snape still working on the potion to determine whether they were related and how? Harry knew that Snape could be the vindictive type and perhaps he stopped working on it the minute Harry was hauled away as a ward of the Ministry. Why bother at this point? Snape had to know that if no living relative of Harry Potter’s existed then chances of the Ministry letting him go were slim to none. Why would Snape mess that up? Here was his chance to finally be rid of the attention seeking, rule breaking son of James Potter.

Dumbledore. Harry knew that Snape would finish the potion for Dumbledore. If that potion could prove that Snape and Harry were related, then the Ministry wouldn’t be able to keep him. Dumbledore trusted Snape and Snape was a member of the Order. Snape will complete the potion for the greater good, Harry just knew it.

Merlin! Harry couldn’t even begin to imagine what his reaction would be if that potion came back showing irrefutable proof that Snape was his father. Would he be sad to discover that James Potter was not his real father? Would he be angry at his mother for doing something with Snape that resulted in making a child? Harry shuddered at this thought. Would he be deeply disappointed and at the same time extremely frustrated that he would finally have something he had always wanted, a parent, just to live with the knowledge that the parent in question hated his guts?

Harry gave a huge sigh and thought again about how hungry he was. He suddenly wished he knew the time. Had the sun risen yet? Was it almost noon? There were no exterior windows in his little cell and it was quite disconcerting to not have a grasp on the time of day. Scrimgeour was supposed to be by this morning to talk, so perhaps it was still early morning, Harry thought.

Harry leaned his head back on the wall and closed his eyes. He let his thoughts drift to the memory of Professor Dumbledore telling Harry that he would be by today. Dumbledore was supposed to bring more clothes and some of Harry’s other things. Would Dumbledore be able to give Harry clothes, when Scrimegeour just had his other clothes taken away? Doubtful. Harry let out another big sigh. It was doubtful, Harry suddenly realized, that he would be allowed to see Dumbledore at all. That would make Dumbledore extremely suspicious, but would there really be anything he could do about it.

Harry decided that the best thing to do would be to wait for his talk with the Minister. Perhaps this was all just a big misunderstanding and everything could be worked out. Harry felt himself nodding off and decided that a nap might take his mind off his hungry stomach and his still aching nose.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

“Mother?” Draco walked into the Malfoy library to find his mother sitting at her small writing desk. She was bent over a large piece of parchment and her quill was writing furiously.

“Draco.” Narcissa Malfoy did not look up from her writing when she beckoned with a free hand for Draco to take a seat. Draco sat and waited patiently for his mother to finish. After a few minutes she finally set her quill down and looked at her son.

“I have something for you, Draco.” She pulled open a draw and withdrew a rolled up parchment. “It is a missive from your father. When I went to visit him a few days ago he was granted permission to write you a short note. It is password protected and your father said you would know how to open it. I thought that I would have to wait until Christmas break to give it to you, but it would seem that your expulsion from school has afforded me the opportunity to give it to you much sooner than that. Read it, and then destroy it. I will be in my bedroom if you should need me.” Narcissa handed the scroll to Draco and then left the room with her own parchment clutched in her hand.

Well, this was interesting, Draco thought. His father was already trying to sway his son, trying to gain control and power even from the depths of Azkaban. Draco said the magical words that would allow him to read the letter. Taking a big sigh, he sank back into the chair and began to read. It was short, stating quite plainly, in Draco’s opinion, about how the Malfoy heir was to live up to his father’s expectations (join Voldemort’s Death Eaters), and not to tarnish the family’s standing in the community (hide the fact that you are loyal to Voldemort and continue being the superior, pureblooded Wizard that you are; beyond reproach). Well, Draco thought, my little stint as an accused child killer has kind of ruined the whole upstanding citizen routine. Well, not necessarily “accused” or a “child,” but McLaggen was young and Draco was still being held suspect in the eyes of the school governors.

The end of the letter only stated that his father would give him what information he needed if the time came for further action. Draco knew this meant that his father would expect him to help in the planning of his escape if the trial results did not go their way.

Draco stood and walked to the huge fireplace, its mantle covered in expensive crystal pieces, little statuettes his mother enjoyed collecting. He threw his letter in and cast a quick incendio. His father’s missive, full of the expectations for a son who secretly wanted nothing to do with his family’s “traditions” went up in flames.

Draco turned from the fireplace and contemplated the room he was standing in. This room, more than any others, signified what he should be and have. Expensive everything; furniture, rare books, gilded framed mirrors, paintings, marble. One day it would all be his. The entire mansion would be his. The entire Malfoy fortune would be his. Of course, what fortune was left after Lucius was done living his life was hard to say. His father was currently in some of the worst legal trouble of his life and would pay anything to secure his own freedom.

With a huge sigh Draco began the long walk back to his room. When he got there he did something that was surprisingly rare to see an aristocratic young man do. Draco flopped onto his bed, shoes still on and stared at the ceiling. His mind drifted to the memory of the day before, still standing in front of the Board of Governors.

“Draco, listen to me very carefully,” Severus appeared hurried, and Draco knew that he was about to get an earful. However, there was one thing that he needed to do first.

“Just a second, Professor,” Draco said quietly before turning Potter’s way. Calling out to the dazed boy who was being led away by the Minister, Draco rushed to catch up.

“Hey, Potter,” Draco held out his hand hoping that Potter wouldn’t choose now to be overly stubborn. While Potter had been tied up with Snape and then Dumbledore directly after hearing the Ministers surprising announcement, Draco had taken the opportunity to take a piece of scrap parchment from a nearby desk. Quickly asking to borrow a quill from an obnoxious reporter, Draco scanned his memories trying to remember everyone he ever heard his father mention with favor from the Ministry. If Lucius Malfoy liked you that was a clear indication of what side you were on.

Draco had released a small, anxious breath when Potter had accepted the handshake. Potter’s eyes had widen enough for Draco to know that Potter felt the small, folder piece of parchment and would understand that it needed to be kept secret.

Once Potter turned to walk away, Draco again gave his attention to Professor Snape.

“What did you just do, Draco?” Snape did not sound pleased, and Draco knew that he was taking a huge risk by helping Potter. He hadn’t had time to disguise his handwriting or place any charms on the parchment that would prevent someone from revealing the author. He just had to hope that Potter destroyed it when he was done reading it.

“Why, whatever do you mean, Severus?” Draco tried to sound as innocent as possible, but it only came out as smug and condescending.

“One day your folly will be your downfall, Draco.” Severus grabbed Draco’s sleeve and pulled him to the back of the room. His professor leaned down and Draco was shocked to see one of the most serious looks Severus had ever given him.

“Draco, listen to me very carefully. You must go home with your mother. Do try to keep a low profile, stay quiet and don’t speak overly much about your desires to deflect from your father’s path. Your mother cannot and will not keep your secrets from those who wish to know them. If the Dark Lord demands to speak with you or your father somehow manages, even against the odds, to find himself no longer imprisoned, then you must play to your instincts. To completely defy your father or the Dark Lord could mean much worst then baring the mark. Do you understand?”

Draco let his professor’s words sink in. It was scary to think that by going home he could in all actuality be called upon by the Dark Lord. Perhaps he wanted Draco to join his ranks earlier than expected to help alleviate the loss of several followers during the attack on the Ministry.

“Are you listening to me, Draco?” Severus gave him a quick shake and Draco was once again able to focus his eyes on the man in front of him.

“Yeah, I mean, yes. I heard everything you said. I was just thinking, that’s all.” Draco looked down at his shoes wondering, not for the first time, what the hell he’d gotten himself into. He should just do everything his father wanted, everything that was expected. It would be easier.

Now, Draco was back at Malfoy Manor, alone with his mother and dreading any communication that may come from the snake-faced, homicidal maniac his father worshipped. With nothing better to do, Draco let his eyes close and sleep finally took over.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Harry was once again awakened by the opening of the door. Looking up through sleep filled eyes he could make out the towering presence of the Minister.

“Harry? How are you doing?” Scrimgeour had brought a chair in with him and sat down in front of Harry. Harry slowly climbed to his feet and stood against the wall. He didn’t have his wits about him enough to yet answer the Minister’s question.

“Why don’t you just sit down and we’ll have a little chat,” Scrimgeour asked, waving a hand towards the bed.

“Why’d you have my stuff taken away? My wand? My clothes?” Harry stayed standing near the wall. He wasn’t about to sit on that nasty looking bed now, any more than the previous night.

“Harry, please sit. I will explain everything.”

“I’m fine standing,” Harry replied in a quiet whisper. He should be yelling and angry, but he was just too hungry and cold and his nose was swollen beyond belief. He just wanted to get the answers to his questions and work things out with Scrimgeour.

“I must insist that you have a seat, Harry. Our talk will take some time and I don’t relish having to look up at you during the entire conversation. I really don’t understand why you are being so resistant to sitting and talking with me.” Scrimgeour made it sound like Harry was being a defiant little boy.

Harry reluctantly made his way towards the bed. However, on seeing the nasty mattress again he just couldn’t bring himself to sit on it.

“Can I have a chair brought in, please?” Harry asked with as much respect and earnestness he could muster. If that kind of attitude would get him a chair, for now he would play nice.

Scrimgeour rose from his seat and went to the door. He spoke to someone just outside and then sat back down. A few moments later a burly looking guard brought in a wooden chair. Placing the chair against the wall, facing the Minister, Harry sat down. He pulled on his sleeping gown to try to make it cover his knees and turned his eyes on Scrimgeour.

“Now, Harry,” Scrimgeour started speaking as if talking to a 3 year old, “I am terribly sorry about the misunderstanding that occurred yesterday. It won’t happen again, I assure you.”

“You mean the misunderstanding involving two of your employees coming in here and taking everything I had? And I mean everything, including my clothes? That misunderstanding? Or was it the misunderstanding that occurred when I was punched in the face and had my nose broken?” Harry was just starting to build up steam when the Minister held up a hand to halt Harry’s words.

“I am sorry those events occurred the way they did, but no, that is not what I’m referring to. The misunderstanding I refer to is the one where you thought you were going to be living in comfort at the Ministry free to roam at will and do what you like. Staying at the Ministry of Magic will not be like living at Hogwarts. There are rules, Harry, and there are consequences. You will live by my rules or you will face my consequences.”

Scrimgeour sounded angry, which baffled Harry. Harry had never done anything to personally offend the Minister, not like he did with Fudge. Perhaps Dumbledore had been difficult and defiant to the Minister in regards to Harry, but that wouldn’t be Harry’s fault.

“Why did you have those guys take my things and treat me the way they did? Why am I being held in this room that’s more like a prison cell at Azkaban?” Harry was really starting to get angry and his only hope at the moment was that he could contain his anger and convince the Minister that he could be trusted.

“I’m sorry the accommodations are not to your liking. The men I sent to you last night did exactly what I told them to do. They were to take all of your possessions, including your clothing, leave you with nothing but what you have right now. I had to assure myself that you had no wand, magical portkeys, potions or anything else that could be used to harm or hinder your stay with us.”

Scrimgeour rose from his seat and approached Harry. Harry had to look up to see him and when he did he didn’t like what he saw. The Minister gently took Harry’s chin in his hand and turned Harry’s face to the left and then the right. Removing his wand from its holster, Scrimgeour proceeded to cast a few healing charms on Harry’s face. Harry instantly felt better and the swelling on and around his nose all but disappeared.

“Harry, we have so much to discuss. I want to talk about your education and your training. I want to talk about You-Know-Who. I want to know what his interest is with you. Why is he always after you? Why does the Wizarding world look to you for their salvation? I want to know those things, Harry. Things that Dumbledore would never tell me, you will tell me, Harry.”

Harry thought that the Minister sounded like an angry, petulant child who was upset about not getting his way. It was like the Minister wanted to take his tantrum out on Dumbledore’s golden boy. It made Harry sick to his stomach to think that Scrimgeour’s anger towards Dumbledore was now being placed on him.

Scrimgeour went to the door and opened it. He turned to stare at Harry for a few moments. “I will send in some food and a blanket or two. Is there anything else you need?”

Harry didn’t know what to say. He was so confused. He thought that the Minister was going to answer some of his questions. Harry thought he was going to have the opportunity to get some issues worked out, such as his living arrangements.

“Harry, I see that you are still somewhat in shock over your current predicament. I think after you eat and get some more rest we can finish our discussion. I feel that right now you are not up for a lengthy conversation. I will only ask one more time, is there anything else I can get you?”

“Can I write a letter, have parchment and a quill?” Harry was hopeful that the Minister would not deny him this.

“I assume you ask, Harry, so that you can write someone and tell them about your horrendous living conditions and mistreatment. I must warn you that if I grant this request, your letters will be read by me before being sent and they will only be sent if I find the information harmless to the integrity of the Ministry of Magic. Is that clear?”

Taking the opportunity for the distraction that parchment and quill would bring, Harry quickly agreed.

With a nod of his head the Minister left the room.

Harry sat back in his chair and contemplated his next move. He had to write to Dumbledore and tell him what was going on. But Harry knew that the Minister was a very smart man and would be able to read between the lines of anything Harry tried to discreetly put in a letter. Perhaps he was better off writing to someone that the Minister assumed Harry would not want to share his current predicament with. He could say some things that the Minister would never understand. Harry knew now what he had to do. He had to write to Snape.