Foresight

Summary: [The Future is never set, merely sensed.] In that courtroom, a choice is made. How will the Wizarding World react to Harry Potter when he starts questioning the way things are? [Harry's Slytherin tendencies had always just been waiting for a chance to rear their head.]

I found an old chapter of this story and decided to post it. Don't be mistaken – this story is still abandoned. I just didn't want to lose all the hard work younger me put into this.

Part One: Instinct

Chapter Two: Destroying Unexpected Expectations

The problem with the Wizarding World, Harry thought as he walked out of his court trial, triumphant yet somehow annoyed, is that it's full of sheep.

Oh sure, Wizarding Society had it's fair share of shepherds, the more successful probably being Lucius Malfoy and Albus Dumbledore, if he were honest with himself. The society even had a number of lone wolves, political backstabbers that everyone hated, but no one could rid themselves of simply due to the amount of blackmail that they had. Rita Skeeter was an excellent example of this.

There were even people who blurred the line between lone wolves and shepherds, having many people backing them up, and yet never seeming to care about returning the favor unless it could benefit their own personal cause further.

That last one had Voldemort's name written all over it.

As Harry made his way to the atrium, a frown began to crease his face. Since noticing Dumbledore's reaction to his standing up for himself in the courtroom, Harry was honestly beginning to wonder whether Dumbledore really fell into the shepherd category, or if he really was on the same level as Voldemort.

The fact that the old man was manipulative was something Harry had known for years. He'd made his peace with it in third year – if he was honest with himself, the whole situation with the time-turner just reeked of conspiracy. After all, who the hell gives a thirteen year old female, who just so happens to be best friends with a well-known trouble-magnet, a device that can turn back time, regardless of her school performance?

Harry had never had what one could call a standard idea of safety (his own lack of self-preservation being something he was intimately familiar with, and yet distinctly wished he wasn't), and even he would have hesitated at the mere thought of giving one of those things to anyone under the age of thirty, much less a thirteen year old who was friends with Harry Bloody Potter!

No, Harry knew perfectly well that Hermione having a time-turner that year was something that only Dumbledore could have accomplished, and only Dumbledore knew why he had done so (a single girl's academic performance wasn't worth the hassle it would have taken to acquire one of those- no matter what Hermione said). Since it saved his godfather, Harry hadn't asked any questions, having learned in his childhood that silence was a favor that, when bought, was always paid for in blood – even if said blood wasn't yours and hadn't yet been spilled.

Now, though, Harry was beginning to think that his silence had stretched for far too long already.

Yes, his silence was bought – it was bought and held in interest by Dumbledore via a promise for his godfather's freedom. It hadn't yet been paid for, however, so to break that silence... but what benefits could he possibly get if he were to speak to someone about that year?

Harry began to slow down, and then stopped in front of the elevator, his mind racing even as his body came to a standstill.

What benefits could he get if he told someone about his third year? Well, that would depend on who he told, wouldn't it? It would need to be someone with authority, someone who had power and was willing to help him make waves with it. Oh yes, that last part was absolutely necessary – and also the trickiest part of the plan. Fudge wouldn't work – Minister though he was, effectual he most certainly wasn't. Who else had power in the Ministry? Well, Dumbledore did, but he was the one holding the metaphorical noose on Sirius's neck in order to keep him, Harry, in line, and therefore ruled out – a given, really. Lucius Malfoy also had power and even the willingness to use it, and for one insane moment, Harry mentally imagined how a conversation like that would go over with Draco's infamous father:

"Mr. Malfoy, could I have a word?"

"What could the boy-who-lived possibly want with me?"

"I would like you to help me prove my godfather's innocence."

"Oh? And why, dear boy, do you think I should help you of all people with anything you endeavor to do? Such precociousness is ill-suited to such a... youthful personage like yourself."

Yes, Harry could practically hear it now – that dry, sarcastic tone, filling perfectly innocuous words up to the brim with a caustic touch that you couldn't call him out on because he never actually said anything – he only ever implied it (rather heavily at times, too, especially if he thought you were dense). No, a conversation (or a battle of wits, rather) with Lucius Malfoy at this stage in the game would not only be disastrous, it would also be akin to murder. Sirius wouldn't last a month with Lucius Malfoy on his tail, especially since you couldn't just coop Sirius up in his house and protect him constantly behind wards – because, after all, the damn idiot would just refuse to stay there. It would be a nightmare, ending in his godfather's soul being sucked out, and all because Harry approached Lucius Malfoy (of all possible people!) for help.

And yet again, another one bites the dust, Harry thought, rather sardonically. The elevator dinged, and Harry entered it, absently noticing that it was empty except for a few scattered messenger planes.

Who else? Who else could he speak to that could do something, would do something, and, most importantly, would be willing to help him do something about this?

There was a thought tugging at the back of his mind, from the corner where all of his more brilliant ideas always came from, but every time Harry tried to grasp it, an image of Tonks came up, and Harry found himself getting increasingly distracted from his previous thoughts by trying to recall what the pink-haired woman did for a career.

What did she say it was again? There was a word fro it, it was like the wizarding equivalent of a policeman, but the name of it...

Tar, Lar, Are... Aurora... something like the Northern Lights, but shorter...Harry thought hard. "Wait, wasn't she an Auror?" he muttered to himself.

Yes, that's right, she'd said she was hoping to join the Department for Magical Law Enforce...ment...

Harry was beginning to wonder whether having your thoughts grind to a halt this often was normal, or if he should be worried for himself, but at the moment, he didn't care, because he was pretty sure he'd just discovered the person he was looking for.

Tonks' boss and head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

Amelia Bones.

Harry smirked as he pressed the button for the level of the DMLE. Perfect. All that was left was getting her to listen to him, and he could already think of several ways to do exactly that.

Oh, the wonders of expectations... and the joys of shattering them.

Amelia August Bones did not suffer fools lightly. And, after having just witnessed the obvious kangaroo court that Cornelius had tried to pull fail spectacularly at the hands of a adolescent teenage boy, she was beginning to wonder how she'd had the patience to deal with these people for the entirety of her Ministry career.

Idiots, the lot of them.

At least Mister Potter seemed somewhat sensible, if a bit inexperienced.

And didn't that statement just make it hit home how utterly pointless the last two hours had been. He'd not even taken his O.W.L.s and yet she could say, with complete sincerity that he was the most reasonable person she'd talked to for more than a minute in the last three months at her job.

What's more, she had a pile of paperwork to fill out, just waiting for her at her office, and she was not looking forward to it.