Power Plays Chapter 57

Watching from a distance, Harry put on a wide smile as Daphne neared the stage. All of her supporters were seated near the front so that they could encourage her and ensure that the press saw her the way that she ought to be: a poor heiress who was seeking to reclaim her family’s fame. Aurors were well in place, ensuring that everything was accounted for. There was no angle that was undisturbed.

And then, an explosion rocked everything.

A spark of fear shot through Harry as he witnessed Daphne’s unconscious body being flung throughout the Ministry’s Atrium. There was a feeling in his gut that sank low, nearly bringing him to his knees.

“Save her!” He shouted out as he drew his wand with lightning-fast speed. Daphne was too close to the floor now for him to slow her momentum—the wand movements would take too long—but he could at least cushion her fall. There was a soft thud as Daphne slammed against the floor rather than the sharp crack he’d expected.

The few others who’d been on the stage were knocked off as well, though few seemed to suffer anything close to what Daphne did. The explosion was tightly localised, ensuring that the force of the blast erupted upwards straight into Daphne. Hermione, who’d been the closest person standing near Daphne, even managed to sit up after rolling off onto the marble floor. She looked confused as she took in the chaos around her.

Flashes of light and the sounds of shutters closing rang out noisily throughout the Atrium as the press worked overtime to document everything that was happening, but Harry ignored it all. He shifted into command mode and barked out orders that faded from his mind the second they were past his lips. He was working on autopilot, unable to take his eyes off of Daphne’s unconscious body.

Nearly ten Aurors rushed to Daphne’s side as they formed a loose circle around her to ward off any incoming attacks. Healers arrived on the scene moments later, far quicker than even Harry expected. They divided up between Daphne and the others who’d suffered some damage from the explosion. None of them wanted to see a single casualty today, and they were doing everything in their power to mitigate Daphne’s injuries. It should’ve assuaged Harry’s worries, but he knew that he wouldn’t be alright until he saw Daphne healthy and awake again in front of him.

Rounding upon his Aurors, Harry demanded a lot of them. “Bring Rhys Orpington and Amelia Bones to my office at once,” he ordered a new recruit that he didn’t even know the name of yet. His time in France had distanced him from his underlings, but no more. He needed to run a tighter ship.

The scared, shaken boy who barely looked to be eighteen years of age leapt into action. He was awkward and stilted in his movements as his wand waved before him, desperate to call in reinforcements. Eventually though, he completed a spell and then rushed towards the lifts to reach the targets that Harry had set forth for him.

He turned to another man. “Stebbins, I need you to lock down the floo network and stop anyone from leaving the Ministry until we can set up a secure checkpoint to examine everyone. Take five Aurors with you and get it done now.”

“Sir,” Stebbins nodded as he rushed off to fulfil Harry’s order.

Seeing that all of his Aurors were doing their duties, Harry sprinted towards Daphne. He pushed through the crowd of Aurors and knelt down next to the healers. She was unconscious and unresponsive. Harry feared the worst. He knew how significant an impact that brain damage could have upon a person. Witches and wizards were better off in that they could have a healer ensure their safety, but such things weren’t fool proof. A healer could just as easily scramble the brain of a victim as they could preserve it perfectly.

Harry caught maybe half of the medical jargon being thrown around thanks to his time under Madam Pomfrey’s care. Daphne’s right tibia and fibula were fractured and she was bleeding freely from countless cuts from the wooden shrapnel of the now ruined stage.

“She has an abdominal hemorrhage,” one healer commented dispassionately as they waved their wand over Daphne’s body. “Albertson, check for damage to her brain.”

A young woman placed her wand against the side of Daphne’s head. “She has a severe brain contusion and a linear skull fracture.”

“Any hemorrhaging?” The first healer asked.

“Some,” Albertson replied. “We won’t be able to transport her to St Mungo’s until it’s under control.”

“Understood.” The healer turned to Harry. “We’ll need space and a private medical tent to work. Shipley, I need you to go to St Mungo’s to gather some potions for us.”

Harry tuned out the moment the healer began listing off the names. He stood back up and weaved his wand throughout the air, conjuring a crisp white medical tent that covered Daphne and the healers.

Harry found Gemma Farley in the group of Aurors surrounding the tent. “You’re in command here?”

“Yes, sir,” Gemma replied swiftly.

“Keep an extended perimeter throughout the Atrium. We need to treat this as a politically-motivated attack and therefore keep a careful watch over any Wizengamot members and their known associates if they attempt to enter the Atrium.”

Harry spent the next several minutes helping Gemma and the others to set up a perimeter. He repurposed the barriers placed around Daphne’s stage to create clear queues for people to enter if they wanted to move through the Atrium. Crowds were already beginning to form around the perimeter. Some, who had been there for the explosion, were hurriedly explaining things to the newcomers. A few disgruntled witches and wizards were trying to force their way past Stebbins and the other Aurors who were keeping everyone from leaving. They were swiftly tied up with conjured ropes and set aside as the Aurors kept control over the crowd.

Once more Aurors began to arrive to help control the situation in the Atrium, Harry swiftly made his way over to the lifts, certain that his Senior Aurors would maintain order.

The lift carried him straight down to the Auror Department. The entire office was a flurry of activity as Aurors were quickly reassigned to aid with the situation in the Atrium. Harry passed them by easily and marched straight to his office.

“What is the meaning of this?” Amelia demanded the moment Harry stepped inside. She was stood, not seated like Rhys was, and had her hands on her hips as she glared at Harry.

“There was an attack on Daphne Greengrass in the Atrium only minutes ago,” Harry retorted hotly. “It appeared to have been a politically-motivated attack given the peculiar timing.”

“And you think I had something to do with this?” Amelia asked, insulted.

“Right now, I don’t know anything,” Harry snapped. “Which is why I’ve brought you here to question you.”

“Question me?” Amelia scoffed. “You know as well as I do that I would never do anything so heinous as to attempt an unprovoked attack like this.”

“Then you won’t mind answering a few questions for me. Sit.”

Although Amelia was technically his boss, there was a strange power dynamic between the Head Auror and the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. If Harry chose to do so, he could temporarily hold anyone, even the Minister of Magic, for questioning. It was a rarely-used power, but it wasn’t without precedent. Amelia could walk out of his office right now and call his bluff, daring him to order his Aurors to arrest her, but she didn’t.

Rhys raised his eyebrows in amusement as Harry and Amelia both sat down. “I never thought I’d see the day that Director Bones was so effectively kowtowed. Bravo.”

Harry didn’t like Rhys’ attitude. It was too casual and carefree. He was still acting so differently compared to the man Harry knew.

Amelia narrowed her eyes at Rhys before turning them back onto Harry. “Ask your questions then.”

“I will require a full accounting from both of you of the locations of you and your core staff members since this morning,” Harry told them clearly. “Someone planted explosives beneath Daphne’s stage.”

“Wasn’t it her staff that assembled it?” Rhys asked with a smarmy smile.

“Yes,” Harry answered bluntly. “And they will all be placed under investigations as well. However, I would not be doing my duty as Head Auror if I did not investigate her main political rivals.”

“But I’m not even running in this election,” Rhys replied.

A lie. Harry could see plainly that Rhys had schemes lurking behind his eyes.

“Your political faction directly opposes hers in the Wizengamot,” Harry pointed out. “That puts you under suspicion.”

“And what of the other facti—”

“They will be investigated as well.”

Amelia cleared her throat. “Thousands pass through the Atrium every single day. Any one of them could’ve been a part of this plot. Do you plan to question all of them as well?”

“We will question anyone who becomes a potential suspect throughout the course of the investigation,” Harry answered noncommittally. It wasn’t as though Amelia could truly expect him to do as she’d suggested—she certainly hadn’t done such things during her time spent being an Auror. “And may I remind you that I am the one asking the questions here. As a suspect, you are not to be privy to any details regarding this case, regardless of your status within the Ministry.”

Amelia wasn’t happy with it, but she was too much a stickler for the rules to rebuke his clear understanding of the law.

“You two will provide every last detail I need before nine o’clock tonight or you will be arrested and placed within a Ministry holding cell,” Harry said.

“I thought you would’ve learned that those aren’t as secure as you thought they were,” Rhys said mockingly.

Harry ignored him. “I will not stop this investigation until the perpetrators behind the attack are found and captured. Do either of you have any information you’d like to put forward at this time?”

“No,” Amelia replied curtly.

“I wish I did,” Rhys chuckled. “The Aurors do such fine work. I’d hate to see any of their investigations fail to turn up anything.”

He was trying to get a rise out of Harry. Even only a couple of years ago, it might have worked, but he’d since learnt to keep his emotions under control when he needed to. Even Daphne nearly being killed wasn’t enough to rattle his professionalism at this moment.

“Then go,” Harry said, dismissing both of them. “You can send your reports on you and your staff’s whereabouts to my office.”

Amelia was the first to stand. She turned sharply on her heels and walked off with a cold fury.

“You certainly pissed her off,” Rhys whistled lowly.

“You can leave too, Orpington,” Harry said.

“You know, if I were you, I’d try looking into Shacklebolt’s own retinue. They’re a slimy, snake-like bunch.”

“And you’re not?”

Rhys placed a hand over his heart. “You wound me.”

“Get out before I have you arrested for obstructing the Head Auror in his duties.”

Rhys took his time standing, stretching out his limbs as he did so. He whistled a tune as he left Harry’s office.

Harry wished that there was more that he could do in the moment, but the investigation would need to proceed before he could take real action against anyone. What mattered right now was seeing to it that Daphne was alright and that the Atrium remained under control.

He was pleasantly surprised to see a calm situation upon his return there. Any disgruntled workers had learned to quiet their criticisms of the slow procession that led down the side of the Atrium towards the exit. In the distance, his Aurors had taken over the security desk where all visitor’s wands were weighed. They were funnelling everyone through there, checking the last spells they used with the Prior-Use Spell and searching them for any explosives on their person. Everything was neat, calm, and orderly.

On the other side of the Atrium, the medical tent that he’d conjured was gone now. He expected that they’d stabilised Daphne enough to bring her to St Mungo’s. Either that or things took a turn for the worse.

Harry dug his nails into the palm of his hands to stop that dark line of thinking. Daphne would be fine. She had to be.

Harry made his way over to the security desk and found Stebbins overseeing the Aurors checking everyone’s wands. “Anything yet?” He asked.

“No, sir,” Stebbins shook his head. “Auror Farley said that she would be examining the stage debris for any magical residue that could be useful to the investigation.”

“Good,” Harry nodded. “If you see her, inform her that until I return, she is to report directly to Auror Tonks with any findings.”

“When will you be back, sir?” Stebbins asked.

“Shortly,” Harry replied. “I need to check in on Daphne first.”

The sympathy in Stebbins’ face was heartwarming. Everyone knew of his relationship with Daphne, and that gave them extra incentive to do their very best on this case.

“We all hope that she’s doing well,” Stebbins told him.

“Thank you,” Harry said. “Keep up the good work with the checkpoint.”

The rows of fireplaces were all inactive. Dull flames within them kept burning for the slow trickle of Ministry employees heading home for the day. Harry grabbed a handful of floo powder and threw it into the first one he came across.

“St Mungo’s!”

In a bath of flames, he was transported directly into the main lobby of the hospital. A healer was waiting there for him, evidently expecting his arrival, and quickly made himself available to guide Harry up to Daphne’s room. His guide was silent throughout the journey, something Harry appreciated. It was only once they reached the proper level that he passed Harry off to the healer in charge of Daphne’s care.

“I’m so sorry, Harry,” Andromeda said sorrowfully the moment she laid eyes on him. “To think, an attempt on Daphne’s life right inside of the Ministry of Magic.”

“How is she doing?” Harry asked, anxious to hear the news.

“As well as can be expected,” Andromeda grimaced. “The healers managed to stabilise her back at the Ministry. They stopped the bleeding in her brain and abdomen before they repaired her skull fracture. She’s been given quite a few potions for that, so she won’t be able to handle the potions needed to start fixing her leg until morning. They’ll need to spend more time checking over her brain for any other damage, but they did fine work stemming the bleeding before it could get any worse. I think that she’ll be close to normal in two day’s time and good as new in a week and a half with the help of a daily potion regiment.”

Harry let out the breath that he’d been holding in. “That’s good news then. Is she…?”

Andromeda understood what he was asking. “Take it easy with her,” Andromeda told Harry. “She’s awake for now, but we’ll need to give her a sleeping drought soon so that her body can heal itself.”

“I will,” Harry promised her.

Stepping into Daphne’s hospital room reminded Harry so much of going to see Astoria here. Daphne was leaned up in bed against a mountain of pillows and had a thick bandage wrapped around her head. She smiled when she saw him step into the room.

“Daphne,” Harry said softly, his voice nearly breaking as he closed the door behind him. He quickly threw up a dozen privacy charms and conjured a chair next to her bed so that he could sit with her. “How are you feeling?”

“Sore,” Daphne admitted. She sounded good and strong, but he didn’t know how much of that was a show just to reassure him. “I’ve felt worse. I bet you have too after all of those crazy stunts you pulled on your broomstick back at Hogwarts.”

Harry smiled slightly at that and took one of her hands into his. “Andromeda says that you’re bound to make a full recovery in only a couple of days. There won’t be any lasting impact to your brain.”

“Obviously not,” Daphne replied. “We prepared for that, didn’t we?”

They had. The protective charms had worked out well.

“Still, it was a risk,” Harry pointed out.

“A well calculated one,” Daphne retorted.

There was no venom in their voices, only the signs of a tired argument that’d been tread countless times before.

“I still don’t like that you went through with this,” Harry sighed.

“Politics is a delicate dance, as you well know,” Daphne said passionately. “No one plays by the rules. Corruption and lies, that’s all it is. It doesn’t matter how good and kind-hearted we are; people will believe the lies that others tell about us. We had to strike before Rhys or Amelia could.”

Inaction had cost him before. It was a painful lesson that he had to learn. Evil would always strike and leave good to react towards it, hampered by whatever scars were left behind by the initial attack. Why not switch the roles for once?

“It’s hard for me to say that this was necessary,” Harry had to say. “Planting that explosive is going to bring scrutiny onto everyone involved in the planning of this. Good, innocent people will be subject to an inquest.”

“Which will naturally find them all innocent, because they are,” Daphne argued back. “It will be difficult for a time, but no one will be found at fault. No one will begin to imagine that I planted that explosive myself. And this will give you the time to look into Rhys and Amelia more closely. Rhys is scum and deserves to be rotting away in Azkaban for muggle hunting, and Amelia is already looking into the truth of Dawlish. What makes this lie worse to you than the lie you told about Dawlish?”

Harry didn’t have an easy answer to that question. Dawlish was an ineffectual leader who was ruining the vision of a stronger Ministry that was ready to deal with dark witches and wizards in the future. His cowardice had cost Susan her life. He deserved to be punished for what he did, and Harry had crafted the lies to ensure that he suffered more than he would have otherwise.

This… this was something different. Rhys deserved to be punished, but did Amelia truly deserve the extra scrutiny? Or was this just another way to help cover up Harry’s story about Dawlish?

Lies upon lies. It seemed that they grew out of control, spawning new ones all the time. He didn’t want that.

But neither was he so blind as to ignore the fundamental reality that lies were the ways of politics and the Ministry at large. As much influence as his role as Head Auror offered him, it wasn’t enough to change the nature of the Ministry entirely. It was idealistic to think he could do so even if Daphne were to become the Minister, but he still hoped that they could have a positive influence on the Ministry’s direction. But that couldn’t happen until they came to power.

“I feel like we’re becoming the type of people we're against,” Harry admitted. “All of these lies… it’s ugly.”

“Politics is an ugly game,” Daphne said gently. “And while our actions may look back in isolation, the broader context of what they’re designed to bring about recontextualizes them entirely. The Wizarding World needs to change for the better. We need to fight within the reality of the system that we inhabit.”

“I wish we didn’t have to,” Harry said.

“There’s my idealistic Gryffindor,” Daphne smiled as she squeezed his hands. “Kingsley tried and failed to appease the pure-blood traditionalists and left the Wizengamot more fractured than ever before. This election will determine the course our entire country takes, and we need to make sure that it doesn’t fall into the wrong hands. Things need to change for the better. We don’t have the luxury of clinging to regrets and wishful thinking.”

No, they didn’t.

This one act has given them the momentum they needed. Daphne was now a sympathetic figure across Britain, a nearly-martyred woman. Harry could apply pressure to both Rhys and Amelia, keeping their attentions divided. Anyone else who chose to run could fall under his scrutiny as well. No one would question why he was hounding them so severely.

“We’ve committed to this course of action, and we’ll see it through to the very end,” Daphne continued. “I know that this won’t be easy for either of us. What matters is that we’re the ones who win in the end.”

“We will,” Harry promised her.