Harry stumbled as his feet hit the small hearth of Russer Port. He felt Craig’s fingers curl around his upper arm, hoisting him to his feet before he could hit the floor. Panicked, Harry whirled around to face the fireplace, panting, wide eyes, expecting to see the face of the Professor coming through the floo at him. He took a jerky step back, but Craig held him tight and pulled him close.

“Kid, it’s ok, he can’t get through.” Craig whispered. “There’s a spell on the fireplace, he can’t get in. You’re safe.” Harry looked up at his friend. Craig had pulled him into a one armed hug, and for a moment Harry allowed himself to rest against Craig’s form, grateful to feel a gentle hand on his back, but the comfort lasted only a second as Craig straightened and released Harry from the partial embrace. A little embarrassed, Harry glanced up and offered Craig tense smile before looking around the sparse room. The first time he’d come through here he’d felt rather ill, especially after a long train ride with the Professor. He’d felt so scared and alone then, a great emptiness gnawing at him. It was funny how similar he felt now.

“You took long enough.” barked a voice, and Harry jumped at the harshness of the brogue, the malice of it. It made his skin crawl, and he rolled his shoulders as if shedding a dirty cloak from his back.

“Yeah, well, something came up.” Craig replied as he stepped down from the hearth. Harry followed, throwing a covert glance at the stranger. He was a wizard, tall, thinly built and dressed in silvery blue robes. Harry stared at the beautiful material, the way it shimmered in the light, the cobalt hue melting into the silver like warmed ice. They were quite a bit more elegant than anything the Professor wore, sporting a shiny silver clasp at each cuff. His wand was set around his waist in a black leather holster, its silver accents gleaming in the light. He stood erect, unmoving, staring down his nose as Craig walked across the room and poked his head through a doorway on the opposite wall.

“Where’s Ernie?” Craig asked, turning back and throwing the man a questioning look.

“Taken care of.” came the casual reply. Craig raised his eyebrows before stalking towards the man.

“If he’s hurt –” he started as he strode across the room.

“Your brother is fine.” the man interjected, staring back with an equally challenging glare as Craig came to a halt. The two stood silently for a moment before Craig took a step back and adjusted his collar, glancing at Harry and clearing his throat before turning back towards the wizard.

“As long as he is.” he whispered sternly.

“We’re wasting time.” said the stranger, turning his eyes on Harry. Harry shifted uncomfortably, peering over at Craig, who this time made no attempt to calm him with a reassuring smile. His stomach felt strange and hollow, and he realized the nervous feeling he’d felt the day Snape took him in was back, but this time it all felt much worse, much more frightening. He reached up and rubbed gently at his temple. A headache had started at the back of his head, and the throbbing was making its way around the side of his skull, a delicate twinge of pain dancing behind his eye.

Craig noticed Harry’s uneasy gaze and made his way over to the boy, nodding to the other man as he passed him.

“Hey.” he said in a low voice, and Harry responded with a weak smile. He was absolutely worn out, and almost as if proof were needed, he yawned into his palm before pulling his hand away and making a face, residue from the floo powder coating his lips. He rubbed vigorously at his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt as Craig chuckled.

“Kid, this is Mister Toran, he’s a friend of mine who works with me at the ministry. When I told him what Snape did to you, he wanted to help. He’s the one who spelled the fireplace so Snape couldn’t follow you.”

Harry reddened at the thought of this unpleasant man knowing the intricate details of his abuse, but the man didn’t seem to care, his face remaining as impassive as…as the Professor’s always did. The tone with which Craig had spoken the word friend was not lost on Harry, as if the word had never been uttered by either man when describing the other, but he nodded, looking quickly again at the stern looking wizard before nodding again at Craig. He trusted his friend, and no matter how unusual this all felt, he was the only person Harry could count on, the only person who hadn’t hurt him.

He was all Harry had.

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The walk to the train station had been anything but leisurely. Both men walked far too fast, Harry’s smaller steps no match for their broad strides, and Harry stumbled a number of times over the wet, uneven cobblestones, much to Mr. Toran’s annoyance, and the man snapped several times at Craig to hurry him up.

“Where is Ernie?” Harry asked as he stood with Craig waiting for the train to board. He swiped at a raindrop that was trickling down his nose. Craig looked over at Mr. Toran, who was making his way across the crowded platform towards them.

“Oh, you know, he’s off brewing something I’m sure.” Craig replied quickly, his eyes never leaving the figure as it swept across the station platform. He threw a quick smile at the boy and clapped him on the shoulder. “Nothing to worry about.” he said brightly as Mr. Toran joined them and handed Craig two tickets.

“Private car.” Mr. Toran said briskly, slapping the tickets against Craig’s outstretched palm. “Muggle money for lunch and a taxi, and,” he reached into a pocket within his robes and pulled out a small folded envelope which he added to the pile in Craig’s hand. “and further instructions.” he finished.

“Right.” Craig said, stuffing the papers into his jacket pocket.

Without so much as a nod or other acknowledgement, Mr. Toran turned and walked quickly into the crowd.

“He’s not coming with us?” Harry questioned, a part of him hoping the dour wizard was gone for good.

“Nope, it’s just me and you from here on out, kid.” Craig smiled and motioned towards the train. “Come on, let’s get on this thing. We don’t want to get left behind.”

Harry watched the as the town of Sunderland hazed into nothingness, the rhythm of the ScotRail soothing him a little as the train pursued the tracks across the countryside towards London. He still felt a ravaging fear, his stomach a tight knot of nerves as he looked over at Craig, who was reading a Muggle newspaper he’d picked up at the station. Harry felt a strange sensation of déjà vu, as it was such a short time ago that he’d sat like this, heading towards the mysterious town of Sunderland, the Professor sitting opposite him reading his hated newspaper, complaining about every article he encountered. He remembered his arrival at the island, the way Snape had put his arm across Harry’s shoulder and led him towards the beautiful old manor. Harry blinked rapidly, refusing to let the tears come. How unfair everything was! Why did he have to screw everything up? Why couldn’t he just be normal, not the kind of person that inspired such hatred in others? His lower lip quivered, and Harry quickly clamped down on it with his teeth, crushing the flesh until he gasped involuntarily at the pain, refusing to feel the sadness, refusing to feel the hurt of his broken trust.

The knot in his stomach tightened, and he turned his head back to the window and tried to focus on something else, but the fear consumed him, just as it did when Uncle Vernon came home drunk, just as it did when the Professor…Harry took in a deep breath and stood quickly. Craig looked up suddenly, frowning as he saw Harry’s pale, drawn face.

“You ok, kid?” he asked, standing and reaching to steady the boy, who looked more than a little shaky.

“I need to use the bathroom.” Harry managed to whisper, and at Craig’s quick nod he left the car and made his way down the thin hall to the facilities. He pushed open the door and stumbled into the stall, barely falling to his knees before vomiting into the toilet, hands gripping the edges of the bowl, white knuckled and trembling as he threw up, tears stinging his eyes, sobs catching in his throat as he retched.

When it was over, he slid to the floor breathing heavily, trying to reject the overwhelming emotions that assaulted him. Pulling his knees to his chest, he laid his head on his folded arms, enjoying the cool, soft cotton against his face, trying to take deep breaths. He didn’t want to cry. He wouldn’t cry, he thought firmly, narrowing his eyes in resolve. He’d made that mistake once with his uncle, and he’d promised never to let himself feel anything again, and then Snape had drawn the emotions from him and he’d been able to let go of the numbness, to slowly break down the walls he’d built to protect himself. He closed his eyes as tightly as he could, the blackness melting into a shifting sea of colour as he pressed his face against his arm. How stupid he was, he thought, bitterness creeping in to replace the grief with self-reproach. How naïve could he get? Why couldn’t he see these things coming? Why did he always have to get blindsided? Why did he allow himself to trust so freely?

“Never again.” Harry whispered, lifting his head and swiping at his eyes with his sleeve. He stood quickly, exciting the stall and washing his hands in the small basin. He splashed his face with cool water, taking several gulps from his cupped hands before dabbing his face dry with a handful of paper towels. He examined himself in the mirror. His eyes were puffy, face red and blotchy. Too bad he didn’t know any of the good concealing charms yet.

Sighing, he walked back into the hall, staring down at the door of their private compartment. He waited a few minutes for his face to return to a more acceptable state before returning to the car where a concerned Craig was waiting, looking at the door expectantly as Harry came into view.

“You feeling alright?” Craig asked, motioning for Harry to sit.

“Yeah.” Harry replied weakly. “I just haven’t eaten anything today. I guess I felt kinda light headed for a moment. I’m fine now.” Craig gave him a sympathetic smile.

“Well with all you’ve been through in the last few days, I’m not surprised you feel like crap.” He reached over and patted Harry on the knee. “Don’t worry, kid, you’ll be safe soon. It’ll all be over once we get back to London. Snape’ll never be able to hurt you again.”

Harry smiled gratefully, but then a puzzled look settled over his face.

“What about when I have to go home?” he asked. “And what about school? I have to go back at the end of the summer.”

Craig held up a silencing hand and shook his head.

“Nothing to worry about.” he replied. “It’s all taken care of, don’t worry. Hey!’ he exclaimed as Harry opened his mouth for another question. “It’s all gonna be fine, alright? Trust me, kid. I’d never let anything happen to you. You’re my friend and I’m yours, and?” he questioned. Harry managed an exhausted smile.

“You take care of your friends.” he stated softly. Craig smiled.

“Damn right, kid.”

Craig picked up his newspaper and began reading, and Harry returned to staring out the window. He’d wanted to ask Craig how he was going to get his things back from Snape’s home. Harry thought of all his school books, his invisibility cloak, and especially the photos of his parents being held by the Professor. Maybe he’d destroy them out of anger, or revenge. Maybe he’d burn the photos! Harry took in a quick breath. Those pictures were all he had of his Mum and Dad! Harry forced himself to calm down. Craig was right. They’d be in London soon and everything would be ok. Craig was his friend. He’d saved him from the Professor; he’d save his things too. He’d keep him safe.

He’d keep him safe.

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The rest of the trip was spent in near silence, the two chatting only for a few moments as their sandwiches were delivered by a very robust looking woman named Pearl, who exasperated Craig to no end by calling him dearest heart multiple times before departing back to the dining car. Harry had enjoyed a giggle at Craig’s expense, and for a moment, cheerful conversation filled the car as the two ate, though Harry barely finished half of the chicken salad sandwich he’d ordered.

They reached King’s Cross in the late afternoon, and Craig hailed a taxi right away, giving the driver an address in London. The trip into town seemed to take forever, but finally the black cab pulled over in front of a tall, grey, brick building. Harry waited for Craig’s nod before climbing out onto the sidewalk, craning his neck to stare up at the building’s peak, which must have been almost twenty floors up.

“Right.” said Craig, taking Harry by the arm and leading him towards the building’s entrance. “Let’s get a move on.”

Harry frowned at the force with which Craig held him, his fingers pressing against the flesh of Harry’s upper arm, and he could have sworn Craig’s hand was trembling as he guided Harry towards the elevators. Inside, Craig released his arm and pulled an envelope from his pocket, which Harry recognized at the one Mr. Toran had given him earlier that day. He watched as Craig ripped the sealed enveloped open and pulled a slip of paper as well as a key, which he inserted into the keyhole of a small panel below the emergency phone. With a click, the panel swung open, revealing a keypad. Craig glanced at the paper from the envelope, punching in a series of numbers before pushing the panel closed and locking it again.

The elevator doors slowly closed, and the lift began to slowly descend. After half a minute, the elevator came to a halt, however the doors remained closed. There was a sudden jolt, and Harry reached out and took a hold of Craig’s arm to steady himself as the elevator began moving once more, but to Harry’s surprise, they weren’t moving up or down, but backwards.

“What’s going on?” he asked quizzically, anxiety welling within him as the elevator moved slowly along. “Where are we?” Craig didn’t respond, and Harry caught sight of his friend’s reflection in the metal door. He looked determined, eyes narrowed slightly, jaw set as he stared straight ahead.

The elevator came to a slow stop, and the door opened to reveal a long hallway lined with doors. Craig took Harry’s arm again and led him out into the hall. Harry looked around in astonishment as they walked. Everything was accented in deep, rich coppery tones, and flickering candles were spaced every few feet along the walls. Pairs of small, potted trees sat astride each doorway in gleaming copper pots with sparkling gold detailing. A broom bustled past them, sweeping around each pot before moving onto the next, dancing on its bristles as it made its way down the hall.

“Where are we?” Harry asked a little more forcefully, pulling his arm from Craig’s grip and coming to a stop. Craig turned towards him and then glanced back at the door at the end of the hall.

“Kid let’s just go. Come on.” He reached out to take Harry’s arm, but the boy took a step back, looking slightly afraid. Craig sighed. “We’re at the Ministry of Magic, ok?” He lunged forward and reclaimed his hold on Harry’s arm.

“Why are we at the Ministry of Magic?” Harry asked, allowing himself to again be led down the hall, this time at a noticeably quicker pace.

“Because that’s where my friend is.” came the exasperated reply.

Craig stopped at the end of the hall, a large oak door in front of them. He knocked loudly, then reached out and turned the handle, pushing the door open to reveal a very large office.

“Craig, my boy, you’re here!”

Harry turned towards the sound of the voice and saw a short, portly man standing at a large, wooden desk at the other side of the room. The desk was on a raised platform and flanked by two large, ornate looking gargoyle statues with gleaming silver eyes.

“Craig, where are your manners?” the man asked teasingly as he stepped down from the dais and came towards them. He looked awfully familiar, and Harry tried to think of where he’d seen the man before, but his thoughts were interrupted as the man swept towards him, grabbing Harry’s hand.

“Cornelius Fudge.” The man stated as he shook hands briskly. “Harry Potter. It’s marvelous to meet you. A real pleasure indeed. Welcome to the Ministry of Magic.”

So that’s where he’d seen the man before, Harry thought to himself, remembering the animated face on many a copy of the Daily Prophet. He smiled hesitantly, a little in awe of being in the presence of such an important figure. The Minister finally let go of Harry’s hand, which had started to ache a little from the furiousness of the handshake, and beamed at Craig. “And you, Mister Russer. How good to see you again. I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you, both of you.” Fudge looked back and forth between the two young men for a moment, then clapped his hands together. “Well.” he exclaimed. “We brought Mister Potter here to assist him, and assist him we shall. Allow me to get a few things in order won’t you? I’ll be but a moment.” The Minister made his way back up to his desk and began rummaging through several stacks of papers.

Harry shifted a little, suddenly aware of the need to relieve himself, when Craig came up next to him.

“Hey, kid. Everything ok?”

“Um, I kinda need to use the bathroom.” Harry whispered, blushing. Craig chuckled and turned Harry towards the door. “Third door on the right.” he whispered in Harry’s ear, and with a nod, Harry quickly walked across the room and out into the hall, gently pulling the door closed behind him with a dull thud.

“Where’s the boy?” Fudge called, glancing quickly around the room in search of the departed Harry.

“Bathroom.” Craig replied, walking up to join the Minister at his desk. He bent down and picked up a strewn paper that had fallen to the floor. He took a moment to skim the contents of the page before handing it back to Fudge. “You think this is going to work?” he asked as the man pulled the page from his hand.

“Of course it’ll work.” replied Fudge, throwing Craig a riled look. “After all he’s gone through, what would keep him from saying yes? That is of course, unless you didn’t do your job.” he finished pointedly.

It was Craig’s turn to look annoyed.

“Of course I did my job.” he exclaimed heatedly. “And it was damn hard too. You have no freaking clue what you asked for, you know that?”

“You didn’t seem to have a problem with it when you were asked.” Fudge snapped as Craig turned his back and walked towards the center of the room. “You seemed quite adamant as I recall. Anyway, it’s over now. You’ve managed to get Mister Potter here, which means you obviously have him afraid enough of Professor Snape. Not that I would think that difficult.” he scoffed.

“Difficult?” Craig said, his voice growing louder as he repeated himself. “Difficult? You think it was easy what I had to do? You think I had fun beating the crap out of some kid? Jesus, Cornelius, you should have seen him. I had to get stone cold drunk just to –”

“No matter.” said the Minister, waving his hand in dismissal. “You did what you had to do, and of course,” he smiled, his voice laced with venom. “you’ll get exactly what you wanted out of all this. You’ll be the one who provided the wizarding world with its saviour. The great muggle, Craig Russer delivering us from evil.” Fudge drawled as he gathered his papers and walked across the room to another, smaller desk. He arranged the documents on the desk and laid a quill beside them.

“And what are you going to do about Snape?” Craig asked hotly. “He’s not going to just roll over and ignore this. You can bet he’s on his way here right now. He’s not stupid. He’ll figure out where I went.”

“Let him come.” said Fudge, a nasty, knowing smile spreading across his face. “By the time he gets here it will be too late. Harry will be mine and that potions master will have no recourse against me, especially after our little Harry testifies about what Snape did to him. I’ll have that bastard in Azkaban so fast his greasy head will spin.”

“Azkaban?” Craig asked, puzzled. “You never said anything about prison.”

“All you needed to know were your instructions.” Fudge replied. “There was no reason to inform you of my personal plans.”

“Listen.” Craig retorted in a dangerous tone as he took a few steps towards the Minister. “You never said anything about putting Snape in prison. I’ve known Snape a hell of a long time, and even though I took part in your little plan, I never would have touched that kid if I knew you were gonna chuck Snape in Azkaban. Do you know what I had to do to-”

“What you did,” Fudge hissed, glaring at Craig, eyes flashing angrily. “was provide a way for me to get my hands on that boy. I don’t care what the hell you had to do to get him. You chose to be involved in this. You chose to go along with the plan. You knew exactly what you were going to do and you did it, so don’t get all high and mighty with me. You wanted to best your brother and best him you have. Every wizard in the world will know your name after this.”

“I almost killed him.” Craig replied, his voice taking on a distressed tone. “I beat that little boy almost to death, all the while disguised as someone he thought cared about him! How can you-”

“Pull yourself together!” Fudge snapped. “Anyone would think you were forced into it. If you’d just-” Fudge turned his head towards the door in a flash, eyes wide as the office door gently banged closed. Cornelius motioned towards the door, and Craig ran across the room, pulling the door open to the sight of Harry sprinting down the hall.

“Get him!” Fudge yelled, and Craig took off down the hall, his footsteps eerily silent on the plush carpet. He watched as Harry sped towards the elevator and madly pressed the call button, frantically looking over his shoulder as Craig slowed to a walk half way down the hall.

“Someone help me!” Harry screamed, racing to the closest door, banging his fists against the wood. “Please! Someone help!”

“No one’s here, kid!” Craig called as Harry ran to the next door, repeating the wild beating of his fists against the dark oak. Harry ran back to the elevator and pounded at the call button again, heart racing, the button slipping out from under his palm, not slippery with sweat. Then, in a wild panic he pressed his hands against the cold, metal doors in an attempt to force them apart.

“Kid.” Craig said gently, only a few feet away now. “Harry.”

Harry turned to look at his friend. No, not a friend anymore, but a betrayer, a liar. Tears slid down Harry’s cheeks as a sob escaped him.

“Please let me go.” he whimpered.

“I can’t do that, kid.” Craig replied, reaching out for the boy.

“No!” Harry screeched, recoiling in horror as Craig grabbed his shoulder, and suddenly the first night came back to him, the way Snape had grabbed him the night he….but it wasn’t Snape, it had been Craig. It had been Craig all the time, and…Harry fought against his hold as the young man clamped another hand down on his arm and began dragging Harry back down the hall. Harry struggled with all his might, his shoes slipping on the carpet as he tried to force his arm from the vice grip. He could barely see through the tears as he wrestled to no avail against Craig’s hold, his terrified cries echoing down the deserted corridor.

“Let me go.” Harry begged, crying hysterically. “Let me go and I promise I won’t tell anyone, Craig. I swear I won’t! I promise…..I’m sorry…please…please.” His pleas faded into sobs as Craig continued his march back to Fudge’s office.

“Shut up!” Craig whispered harshly as he pulled Harry along. The damn kid was even apologizing! “I said shut up!” he yelled, but by now Harry’s begging was lost in his tears. Craig reached out and pushed open the office door. “Here.” he said to Fudge as he yanked Harry back into the office.

Fudge regarded Harry for a moment before smiling sympathetically at him. He waved a hand at Craig.

“Let the boy go, Craig.” he ordered. “Is this any way to treat a special guest? Look, you’ve frightened him.” With narrowed eyes, Craig released Harry, who took a few jerky steps away from the man, still breathing heavily from his fight in the corridor. “I apologize, Harry.” Fudge continued. “Mister Russer forgets his manners. You must be quite on edge after your recent ordeal. I promise you, no harm will come to you here.

“I want to go back.” Harry rasped, his voice strained from screaming. He reached up and rubbed at his face with his sleeve, his hand shaking violently beneath the soft cotton, the rancid smell of vomit still present from earlier on the train, and his stomach rolled queasily.

“I’m afraid I can’t allow that, Harry.” Fudge replied gently. “You see, Professor Snape has harmed you, and what kind of person would I be if I allowed an important young man such as yourself to return to such a terrible environment, hmm?”

Harry shook his head.

“It wasn’t the Prof-” he started.

“Oh no, no, no.” the Minister said quickly, holding up a hand. “I think you were a bit confused, dear boy. Craig went back to save you from the Professor. Mister Russer was here with us working on an assignment. Professor Snape hurt you, Harry.”

“But…” Harry started. “I heard you say-”

“Then you heard wrong, didn’t you?” Fudge said in a condescending voice. “You’re tired, Harry, tired and confused and scared, but I have a plan to ensure you never feel that way again.”

“I want to leave.” Harry repeated softly, his eyes beginning to well up again. His head ached something fierce. Actually his whole body hurt from his tussle with Craig, and he winced as another flash of pain spiked behind his eyes.

“Listen, Harry.” Fudge said gravely as he placed the paper back on the desk. We can do this the easy way or we can do this the hard way. “What would you prefer, hmm? Because I’m getting a little tired of this game you’re playing. One would think you would be a bit more appreciative toward someone who is trying to help you. ”

Harry stiffened as the Minister reached inside his robes and withdrew his wand.

“You see Harry. In order to protect you from Professor Snape, I’ve come up with a rather ingenious idea. All you have to do is sign a few legal documents, just a few custody issues and you’ll be completely safe from anyone who wants to harm you.”

“Custody?” Harry whispered in disbelief.

“Of course!” Fudge exclaimed, smiling as he continued in a compassionate voice. “I know your relatives haven’t treated you kindly.” the Minister said gently. “I know they caused you great harm, Harry. I also know you were expected to be home this summer. I would hate to think how angry your uncle would be when he returns to find you spent your entire holiday with Professor Snape, a wizard of all things. Your uncle doesn’t care for wizards much, does he, Harry?” Fudge grinned manically as Harry’s face grew pallid, almost as if the mere mention of his uncle was enough to drain the life out of him. “Now I wonder,” the man continued. “with how angry and upset your uncle would certainly be, I wonder what sort of punishment he would carry out.”

Harry’s breaths became shallow and rapid as the meaning of the Minister’s proposal became clear. Sign the papers or his uncle would be informed of his whereabouts for the last few weeks. Uncle Vernon would be angry. No, it would be beyond that, more than that. He’d be absolutely livid. The last time Uncle Vernon had been that angry, Harry hadn’t eaten for almost a week, and the beatings and been so furious that he’d been sure they would be his last. He remembered the drawn out days lying in his sweltering cupboard, his back a bloody mess of cuts from the sharp edge of the belt as it lashed against him, his head on fire, swollen, raw, tortured.

“I’ll make it so easy for you, Harry.” Fudge said gently as he raised his wand. Harry barely had a chance to register what was happening before a strange warmth settled over him, as if someone had wrapped him in a towel fresh from the dryer. The heat settled into his hair first, his scalp tingling slightly as the sensation dripped onto his shoulders and down his back, coating him in a heavy, hot, glaze. His eyelids felt weak, and he started to turn his head, but found he couldn’t move. His heart beating faster, he tried to step backwards, but his legs wouldn’t obey. He felt like he was trapped in a thick pool of warm mud. All over his body it held him fast, restraining him, weighting him down, and he opening his mouth to cry out, but was met with silence as his body ignored all instructions. He fought against the attack, but he was still as stone, his heart racing, throwing itself against his chest like a feral animal as with every ounce of strength he struggled against the invisible bonds.

“I see you have not heard of this particular spell.” The Minister stated, grinning as he walked slowly towards Harry. He looked thoughtful for a moment, his wand trained on the boy as he spoke again. “Oh, of course not. How silly of me. None of your professor’s would teach you about such dark magic at this young of an age. I suppose it was different in my day. Our professor’s were much more lenient, though back then we were expected to know much in the ways of the Dark Arts. The Imperius Curse was far more acceptable back then.” The Minister’s smile faded as he came to a stop in front of the terrified boy, his arm out, wand quivering gently in his hand. “Voldemort made men of us all.” he whispered pensively. “Much too soon.”

Harry stood motionless, sweat beaded on his brow, and a drop of perspiration trickled down his forehead and into his left eye. He couldn’t even wipe it away, his eye watering furiously at the intrusion. His skin prickled with goose bumps as the realization hit him. He was trapped. Trapped with Craig, the man who had beaten him, whipped him, trapped with the man who had orchestrated it all, and the familiar sour taste of bile rose in his throat, his body rigid as his muscles screamed in agony from exertion.

“Mister Potter.” Fudge continued, pulling a red silk handkerchief from his robe pocket. He balled the material in his hand and gently dabbed at Harry’s brow. “It seems it has not been explained to you, the full potential of your existence. You are more important than you realize, to me, to us, to everyone.” He walked around Harry as he spoke, his wand still drawn. “Are you aware of how many witches and wizards we lost to the monster Voldemort?” he asked, his voice growing louder as he circled. “Your own Father and Mother were victims of his madness. How many more would you allow to suffer? How many more must die? Do you not understand who you are, child? You are our savior!” Fudge stood in front of Harry now, his face dewy and flushed, eyes wild, and Harry’s stomach twisted in fear. The urge to vomit was overwhelming, and for a moment he wondered how he would, not being in control of his body. He could barely hear the Minister’s rants for the whooshing of his frantic heartbeat in his ears.

He tried to cry out as Fudge reached out, placing his hand on Harry’s shoulder.

“You will save us, Harry. You will fight for us all. For those who came before you, and for those who come after. You will join us, and you will learn the skills you need to defeat the plague of the Dark Lord. Don’t worry.” he said gently, his hand coming up to cup Harry’s cheek. “Your friend will be there.” he said, nodding at Craig. Craig took a few hesitant steps towards Harry.”

“Come on, Kid.” Craig said beseechingly. “Just do what he says and it’ll all be over soon. Just listen to him, ok? It’s for the best.”

Harry suddenly felt himself stir, and for a fleeting, excitable moment he thought he had been freed from the spell, but his legs began to move on their own, walking him across the room to a table where several papers and a quill had been laid out. He read the title of the pages as the Minister came up behind him.

Legal Certificate of Adoption

Waves of panic rose within him, and again he tried again to wrestle free of the spell, his face reddening from the effort, muscles twitching, sweat pouring down his face now as he battled the bonds of the curse.

“Stop!” shouted Fudge said as came quickly around the other side of the table. He slammed his free hand down on the dark wood and screamed the word again. Terrified, Harry forced himself to stop struggling as Fudge stared wildly at him. There was silence as the Minister’s heavy breaths petered out. “There is more than one way to skin a cat.” Fudge spat bitterly. He paused a moment, his nose wrinkling in disgust. “Muggles have such revolting ways of putting things.” He flicked his wand at the boy, and Harry watched in horror as one of his hands reached out to secure the paper, the other reaching out of its own volition to pick up the quill. He thought his heart would explode as he pressed the self-inking quill against the paper and proceeded to sign his name, his pleas screaming inside his head so loudly that he almost thought he could hear them out loud.

Tears spilled down his cheeks as he finished his first name. That seemed to be one thing the Minister didn’t have control over. Natural, raw, emotion. That was still Harry’s. That was still unbound and free, and the tears fell onto the document as Harry signed himself away, signed himself over to the Minister, one agonizing letter at a time.

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