Father's Ultimatum

"You won't be granted permission to meet with Henry privately in any capacity," Father was saying, his voice so cold and remote that Harry thought he understood why his parents had chosen to have Father be the one to give Dumbledore the news. Mother probably couldn't have been this calm. "Either his Head of House or his brother is to be with him at all times. In addition, we have hired a private tutor to work with him on his Defense spells."

Dumbledore sat behind his desk the way he had when he'd met with Harry a few weeks ago, but he looked so much older that Harry might have thought he wasn't the same man. He kept looking back and forth between Harry and Father, and the silent Mrs. Malfoy standing behind them, as if this was a riddle whose answer he didn't like.

"Without training, how do you expect Harry—"

"I told you to call me Mr. Malfoy, Headmaster." This time, Harry was absolutely sure that his sneer compared well with Father's and Draco's.

Dumbledore sighed, as if doing what Harry asked was a huge imposition, and continued. "How do you expect your son to survive?"

"If we think it necessary to give him such training, we will provide it," Mother said, her voice as flat as ice. "Or his new tutor can. But you instructed him to lie to his family, Headmaster, and to accept tutoring from a vigilante group. It's very hard to believe you have our son's best interests at heart."

"There is still a prophecy that Voldemort believes, even if you don't. There is still a chance that he could come for—Mr. Malfoy."

"And you never even asked us what we intended to do about it," Father said, his cane tapping for a moment on the office floor. "You simply assumed that we would leave Henry to die and you had to step around us."

"I will never trust you when it comes to Voldemort, Lucius Malfoy." Dumbledore leaned forwards, and his hands clasped the edges of the desk now, instead of each other. His eyes glittered, harsh and bright, enough to make Harry freeze in place in the chair next to his father. "Because you bear the Dark Mark."

Father studied Dumbledore in silence, his expression so completely closed off that Harry had no idea what he was thinking. Then he nodded and stood, with a glance at Harry. "Come, Henry. I think it's time for you to meet your new Defense tutor. We'll be having Draco work with him, as well. You're welcome to invite your friends to attend the lessons if you want, but I don't know what their decision will be."

"Harry."

Dumbledore's voice was pleading. Harry almost wanted to look over his shoulder. But he knew that, no matter how curious he was about what Dumbledore would say, it would add up to the same thing in the end.

Justifications, and excuses, and certainty that Sirius had done the right thing all those years ago, kidnapping Harry for the Potters.

Harry walked out of the office after his parents.

.....

"Who are you?"

Harry sighed. Honestly, Draco could have waited just a minute to ask that question, and he'd probably already have an answer.

The sturdy man standing in the middle of the room smiled at them. He looked perhaps as old as Father, with sandy-grey hair and brown eyes. His robes were plain and black, and Harry couldn't tell anything from looking at them.

They were the only ones in the classroom where they'd been meeting with Tonks in the past month to learn the Patronus Charm. Hermione had said that she wanted to stay in Professor Lupin's class since he was a good teacher, and Ron had been shamefaced; apparently his family was okay with him learning from a Malfoy-approved tutor when it was the Patronus Charm and not something they'd ever learn in class, but wanted him in class otherwise.

"My name is Ted Tonks," said the man, and then laughed at the face Draco made. "Yes, in fact, that means you'll be learning from a Muggleborn. And also from a Shadowfollower."

That made Draco gasp. Harry looked back and forth between the man who must be Tonks's father and Draco, not knowing what that meant.

"They're just a myth, though," said Draco. But he looked uncomfortable.

"A myth I've never heard of," Harry said loudly, to stop them from forgetting about him.

"Do forgive me, Mr. Malfoy." Ted turned to face him. "Most of the people who work for the Ministry don't have much combat skill. There are three large exceptions: the Hit Wizards, who handle such things as riots and hostage situations; Aurors, who handle the Darker wizards and have more specialized training; and the Unspeakables, who work in the Department of Mysteries and investigate questions that have puzzled us for centuries. No reason for the others to have that much combat magic, honestly. They do their paperwork and go home at the end of the day.

"But now and then, it's a good idea for the Ministry to have someone to handle a difficult situation who isn't known to have combat experience, and who doesn't have to be burdened with the sort of—ethical difficulties that burden Aurors and Hit Wizards."

"The Shadowfollowers," Draco whispered.

"Can you tell us this, though?" Harry asked.

"Oh, yeah." Ted shrugged. "I'm retired, now. Being a Shadowfollower isn't something you do for a lot of years. You either retire or you die in the line of duty. And most of the time, I was just an ordinary man with a wife and a daughter and a job I liked.

"When they needed someone who knew some dirty tricks, though? And particularly knew how to move around unnoticed in the Muggle world? They called on me."

"How many of the Shadowfollowers are Muggleborns?" Draco demanded, who sounded as if he was furious with himself for never thinking of that. "All of them?"

"Oh, no." Ted smiled, and watched Draco relax, before he added, "Just ninety-five percent or so of us."

"Because people have a tendency to overlook you because they believe in pureblood superiority?" Harry asked.

Ted nodded. "That's not the only reason, but it's a prominent one. Another is that purebloods, as a group, don't like to leave the credit for their investigations up to someone else, or even see them go entirely unclaimed." He chuckled as he looked at Draco again.

Draco poked Harry sharply in the ribs, making him dance back with an oof. "Just remember that you're a pureblood, too, Henry."

"But he seems to be one of the few sensible ones," Ted murmured. "Now. Are you ready to begin learning, or did you want to stand there and loudly proclaim what you don't believe some more?"

Draco straightened up with more dignity than Harry would probably have had in the same situation. "We're ready to start learning."

....

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