分卷阅读21（2 / 2）

“The ministry is…inadequate for this particular situation.” Harry knew he had to choose his words carefully, unless Kingsley came after him for revealing secret information. “There’s still some concern of corruption, and this is sensitive information. We have to handle it independently, like we did before.”

There were only blank stares. “And why should we?” It was George again, sullen, angry, hurting. “How much more do they expect us to give?” He shook his head, then stood up so fast his chair fell to the floor. “No. I’m sorry, Harry, but I’m done.”

And then he walked out.

Harry didn’t really know what to do with that, because one of the constants of his life is that when it is time to fight, there have always been people willing to stand beside him, even when he wasn’t asking them to. And now that he was asking them to, he was getting no volunteers, no one to stand beside him, only Ron and Hermione standing silently behind him, like guards.

(And Draco, who was across the room, hidden in the back, but Harry was trying not to look at him because it was more distracting than anything else.)

“Look,” He said, weakly, and words were not enough to explain why they should let themselves be drawn back into this. “You don’t have to. I get that, that you’ve given enough. But someone has to do this, and I’m going to try, even if I have to do it alone.” The only response was a tilt of the head from Ginny, a silent agreement passing across the room that told him he didn’t even have to ask. As for the rest, they still looked uncertain. “I’d like some help.”

It was Percy who ended up breaking the silence, leading the rest to the cause. “I’ll fight.” He shoved his glasses up his nose, a gesture born from nerves “Was late to the last fight. Might as well make up for it now.”

Harry swallowed hard, then nodded, grasping onto Percy’s hand when it was offered. “Good,” He said, talking around the emotions welling up in his throat. “We’ll need you.”

He ends up alone with Seamus, staring at the Black family tree. Seamus was tracing all the burn marks, and Harry could not stop staring at the mark that used to bear his godfather’s face. He didn’t know why the thing was still up.

(Probably Kreacher.)

“You don’t have to do this, you know.” Harry knows he should have left it alone, but when he saw Seamus in the back, pale faced and looking like he was facing the worst thing imaginable, he had felt the guilt ball up in his stomach. “You’ve done enough.”

“And what, just sit and watch all the others fight?” He laughed, a sharp and biting sound that cut through the air. “I don’t think so.”

“But—”

“But I tried to off myself once and everyone’s afraid I’ll do it again?” There was no laugh now, just tense anger falling off the sharp line of his shoulders. “Don’t worry, Harry. I can fight just as well as I could before.”

“That’s not…” He sighed and scrubbed at his face, tired, wishing they had all left him alone. That’s all he ever wanted, was to be left alone. “That’s not what I meant, Seamus.”

“I know.” He didn’t look the same, but there were flashes of the old Seamus shining through at odd moments, like when instead of a hug he turned and punched Harry as hard as he could in the arm, like that meant everything was forgiven. Harry thinks he is still expecting to see all the old versions of his friends when he looks at them, never mind that those people left him long ago. “It’s alright, Harry.”

They move away from the tapestry without talking about it, like they didn’t want to see the reminder of it anymore “Besides,” Seamus grins, then, and an image of him smiling through a mouthful of blood flashes in Harrys mind, the memories rising up at the worst times. “I’ve got some people to pay back, don’t I?”

Revenge. They all have their things they hang onto in order to get themselves through the day, and it seems that Seamus has found his.