Chapter- 28 : Interrogation Part - 3

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Harry slowly ambled across the Hogwarts grounds on the way back from the Ministry, his lack of direction mimicking how lost he felt.

For all intents and purposes Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was his lord and master.

He sank down on a boulder by the forest as the hopelessness of his situation weighed on him. What was he going to do?

The last time he'd been under Dumbledore's thumb Harry had followed the Headmaster's plans and danced to his tune until the man died, after which he had followed the plans and danced to the tune of the man's Merlin-be-damned memory.

It was fairly pathetic all around, but back then he hadn't quite had his eyes opened.

Boy, were they ever now.

Here he was, on a different world and the man was up to shenanigans again with Harry at the centre of his plots.

Reluctantly he turned his head to look across the grounds, for the first time really taking in the scene.

The lake was utterly still, a perfect mirror for the clouds blanketing the sky on this typical Scottish summer day. The grounds looked empty without playing children. Now they were just hills topped with grass, here and there scarred by failed teenage attempts to cast spells. Finally, by his side, forcing him to crick his neck as he turned his head the whole way the Forbidden Forest loomed like a crotchety neighbour that parents warn their children away from.

Harry looked at the massive trees and scowled as he instinctively balled his fists.

There was a clearing in that forest that marked his greatest shame - the time he had given up, no matter how necessary it had seemed at the time. He had allowed himself to be killed in the culmination of Albus Dumbledore's plotting and planning.

Damn that man.

Angrily he threw a pebble at one of the largest trees in sight. It bounced with a satisfying thud and the undergrowth bristled as it fell.

With narrowed eyes he tried to make out if it had left a mark on the bark at all – a scuff, a scratch or even a dent – but either it was too far away to see or the tree was simply much hardier than a mere pebble.

He sighed in frustration and closed his eyes as he focussed on his breathing in an effort to relieve some of the tension. His thoughts rampaged through his mind like debris in a tornado but the image of the Forbidden Forest would not leave him alone.

The emotion colouring the image changed, however as in a surprisingly comforting revelation he remembered that though it was home to his greatest shame, it marked his greatest victory as well. It was the place where he gave up and died, but rose to fight again.

There, in that very clearing, was the place he had truly beaten Voldemort. The man had finally died half an hour later inside the castle, but this was where he'd been rendered mortal, through love and sacrifice, something no one else could have done but he.

He, Harry Potter. Not some mythical storybook hero. Not a one hundred and fifty year old garishly clad wizard with a beard long enough to weave into clothing. Him.

He narrowed his eyes. Comparing his actions back then with those in the past week was rather jarring. What the hell had he been doing?

He'd ranted and raved, sought for ways out and been blocked at every turn. His angry outbursts were like those of a teenage girl in a tiff after finding her boyfriend kissing another; lashing out at the world in a childish display of temper that ultimately served nothing but to make everyone unhappy. Really, his only true victory was the establishment of a cover identity, something he'd come up with on the spot and only succeeded at because he had been drugged.

That needed to stop.

He took a deep breath and made a conscious effort to sit up straight and square his shoulders. It was time to stop reacting and start making his own plans.

Those poor little fools had no idea who they had messed with when called him from his home.

He was Harry bloody Potter and he was nobody's puppet.

A feeling of serenity and peace came over him, like the gods themselves were blessing his plans and intentions. His facial muscles relaxed and his mouth curved into a gentle smile. When he looked around the world even seemed brighter than only a moment ago.

Literally so, as a luminous silvery streak shot across the grounds and came to a halt in front of him where the glowing white smoke coalesced into... a phoenix patronus that spoke with Dumbledore's voice.

"Could you make your way to the Great Hall, Mr. White? There's a few things we should speak about."

The patronus dissolved immediately after delivering the message, taking the peace and serenity with it.

Harry stared open-mouthed at where it had been before closing his mouth with a snap of teeth and narrowed his eyes. With exaggerated care he wiped his hands on his jeans as he thought furiously before slowly getting to his feet.

Determination burned in his eyes.

Now was as good a time as any.

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If you're eager to delve deeper into the story, consider joining my Patreon for exclusive content and early access to new chapters

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