He Who Never Was
mur•der•er: (noun) a person who commits murder; a killer.
Murder: the killing of another person without justification or valid excuse. It is especially the unlawful killing of another human being with malice aforethought. This state of mind may, depending upon the jurisdiction, distinguish murder from other forms of unlawful homicide, such as manslaughter.
The war was over and Harry Potter, The Man Who Lived Twice, and Savior Of The Wizarding World; Albus Dumbledore's Shining Jewel, was finally free, for all of 67 days. It took just sixty-seven days for the new Minister of Magic, some bumbling idiot Dumbledore had thrown his support behind, to expand the Auror force by 150%, arrest all remaining Death Eaters, and to decree that all Magical Creatures be rounded up for tracking, and erradication if required. It took him just sixty-eight days to issue an arrest warrant for one Harry James Potter, on the accusations of Murder by Use of an Unforgivable, Use of Several Dark and Dangerous Artifacts, Harbouring One Or More Fugitives, Aiding and Abedding Fugitive Escapes, and Housing a Lycan.
Harry of course, would never deny that he had in fact murdered someone (however unwillingly it had been), but for any who had been there that day, it was painfully obvious that a spell never left Harrys lips and that Voldemort did in fact die from his own Unforgiveable backfiring for the third time in 17 years. He would also admit to the fact that in his quest to rid the world of the evil that was Lord Voldemort he and his friends had been forced to use less than desirable means to achieve their end, and that in the 67 days since the final battle he had quietly funneled no less than 5 death eaters (Draco and Narcissa Malfoy, and Severus Snape among them) out of the country, and had set up a safe haven for any werewolf seeking refuge in a widely undisclosed location, which was gaurded by the fidelus charm, and left to a secret keeper who had mysteriously disappeared from the country just 38 days prior. As for housing a lycan, at just 13 months old it was a bit too early to tell if Teddy had inherited his fathers unfortunate affliction, and Harry would love him just the same regardless.
Thus, Harry Potter found himself bound in shackles, sitting in a chair in a Ministry holding cell, waiting for his fate to be decided by the very people he had protected and saved. He almost laughed out loud at the irony of it all.
When his door finally opened (hours later he imagined), and some half wit walked in, Harry immediately developed a headache.
"Potter," the young man spat.
"And you are?" Harry asked.
"You don't need my name, filth," the Auror replied.
Harry just nodded, deep in comtemplation.
"Where is my lawyer?" he asked.
"No one wants to represent you, murderer."
"Just the same, I will not speak without my lawyer present, have they been summoned? I did leave their card with Auror Shacklebolt upon my detainment. Or has he been corrupted just as you have?" Harry questioned.
The young man balled his fists and made to hit Harry full on but instead encountered a very real, very hard barrier and immediately felt several bones in his hand collapse. Gasping in pain he looked at Harry.
"What did you do? Those shackles are meant to suppress magic," he stumbled.
"Oh, yes, well," Harry mused. "They must be broken."
The Auror, clutching his hand, just glared at Harry before turning and exiting the room. Harry knew it was going to be a very long stay...