Harry Potter 06 - Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

Ministry?’
    ‘It would give everyone a lift to think you were more involved, Harry,’ said Scrimgeour, sounding relieved that Harry had cottoned on so quickly. ‘The “Chosen One”, you know … it’s all about giving people hope, the feeling that exciting things are happening …’
    ‘But if I keep running in and out of the Ministry,’ said Harry, still endeavouring to keep his voice friendly, ‘won’t that seem as though I approve of what the Ministry’s up to?’
    ‘Well,’ said Scrimgeour, frowning slightly, ‘well, yes, that’s partly why we’d like –’
    ‘No, I don’t think that’ll work,’ said Harry pleasantly. ‘You see, I don’t like some of the things the Ministry’s doing. Locking up Stan Shunpike, for instance.’
    Scrimgeour did not speak for a moment, but his expression hardened instantly.
    ‘I would not expect you to understand,’ he said, and he was not as successful at keeping anger out of his voice as Harry had been. ‘These are dangerous times, and certain measures need to be taken. You are sixteen years old –’
    ‘Dumbledore’s a lot older than sixteen, and he doesn’t think Stan should be in Azkaban either,’ said Harry. ‘You’re making Stan a scapegoat, just like you want to make me a mascot.’
    They looked at each other, long and hard. Finally Scrimgeour said, with no pretence at warmth, ‘I see. You prefer – like your hero Dumbledore – to disassociate yourself from the Ministry?’
    ‘I don’t want to be used,’ said Harry.
    ‘Some would say it’s your duty to be used by the Ministry!’
    ‘Yeah, and others might say it’s your duty to check people really are Death Eaters before you chuck them in prison,’ said Harry, his temper rising now. ‘You’re doing what Barty Crouch did. You never get it right, you people, do you? Either we’ve got Fudge, pretending everything’s lovely while people get murdered right under his nose, or we’ve got you, chucking the wrong people into jail and trying to pretend you’ve got the Chosen One working for you!’
    ‘So you’re not the Chosen One?’ said Scrimgeour.
    ‘I thought you said it didn’t matter either way?’ said Harry, with a bitter laugh. ‘Not to you, anyway.’
    ‘I shouldn’t have said that,’ said Scrimgeour quickly. ‘It was tactless –’
    ‘No, it was honest,’ said Harry. ‘One of the only honest things you’ve said to me. You don’t care whether I live or die, but you do care that I help you convince everyone you’re winning the war against Voldemort. I haven’t forgotten, Minister …’
    He raised his right fist. There, shining white on the back of his cold hand, were the scars which Dolores Umbridge had forced him to carve into his own flesh: I must not tell lies.
    ‘I don’t remember you rushing to my defence when I was trying to tell everyone Voldemort was back. The Ministry wasn’t so keen to be pals last year.’
    They stood in silence as icy as the ground beneath their feet. The gnome had finally managed to extricate its worm and was now sucking on it happily, leaning against the bottommost branches of the rhododendron bush.
    ‘What is Dumbledore up to?’ said Scrimgeour brusquely. ‘Where does he go, when he is absent from Hogwarts?’
    ‘No idea,’ said Harry.
    ‘And you wouldn’t tell me if you knew,’ said Scrimgeour, ‘would you?’
    ‘No, I wouldn’t,’ said Harry.
    ‘Well, then, I shall have to see whether I can’t find out by other means.’
    ‘You can try,’ said Harry indifferently. ‘But you seem cleverer than Fudge, so I’d have thought you’d have learned from his mistakes. He tried interfering at Hogwarts. You might have noticed he’s not Minister any more, but Dumbledore’s still Headmaster. I’d leave Dumbledore alone, if I were you.’
    There was a long pause.
    ‘Well, it is clear to me that he has done a very good job on you,’ said Scrimgeour, his eyes cold and hard behind his wire-rimmed glasses. ‘Dumbledore’s man through and through, aren’t you, Potter?’
    ‘Yeah, I am,’ said Harry. ‘Glad we straightened that out.’
    And turning his back on the Minister for Magic, he strode back towards the house.

 
     
— CHAPTER SEVENTEEN —
     
A Sluggish Memory
    Late in the afternoon, a few days after New Year, Harry, Ron and Ginny lined up beside the kitchen fire to return to Hogwarts. The Ministry had arranged this one-off connection to the Floo Network to return students quickly and safely to the