Chapter 246

Wentworth Alan Wright, Member of Wizengamot

Harry took a deep breath. The chances of this going well were incredibly slim, which was why he needed to be prepared for anything and everything.

"Are you alright? Do you still want to do this?" he heard Hedwig ask worriedly in his mind.

"I am," he said quietly in reply to both of her questions. He then took a deep breath, and steeling himself, knocked on the door three times.

"Come in."

Harry pushed the door open and stepped in before closing it behind. The room was spacious but sparse, with no decorations on the walls other than the fireplace, a bookshelf, torches for the light, and a single portrait of a middle-aged woman behind the big desk at the center of the room where Lord Wright sat.

"Mr. Potter. Can I help you?" Wright asked with a frown as he put down his quill.

There was no point in beating around the bush and Harry knew it, "Lord Wright. I…I wanted to talk to you about Dean."

If Harry would've blinked he would have missed the widening of the elderly man's eyes before he instantaneously schooled a politely curious expression back into place. "Isn't that the young man who was killed in the Chamber? I remember hearing he was your friend. I'm sorry for your loss. What can I do for you?"

Harry wasn't going to let him make this more difficult, "Please Lord Wright. I don't want to…I know he is your grandson."

Wright's face instantly lost expression, freezing into a stony gaze. The click of the office door's lock sliding into place sounded behind Harry.

"Do you? And however did you reach that conclusion?" Wright flatly asked, standing up from his seat and walking around the desk to lean against the front of it.

There was no other choice now than shouldering on, "Dean showed me the letters he got from your son. He told me about his father. His name was Johnathon Armin Wright. I looked up your son's name from the Ministry Archives. The connection was obvious,"

"And what is it that you want from me?"

Harry took a deep breath, before saying what needed to be said, "I know you've been trying to get Lisa convicted, and I wanted you to know that she is innocent."

The silence that followed hung in the air thick as butter.

"You know a lot more than you should Mr. Potter. And even further more than you understand," Wright finally said.

"I understand wanting revenge from your family's death," Harry replied, "I understand the anger. I understand the desperate need to get it out of you."

"You're twelve."

"I'm also someone who has lost his entire family, and now a friend," Harry's voice rose as he retorted, "I understand more than you think."

"I lost my son a decade ago," Wright spat at him, his mouth twisting with contempt. Harry had finally got through to him, "I had to watch my wife waste away in her grief. After spending an entire decade trying to fill my wounds, I had to tear open those scars again and find out that not only had my son been living life as a degenerate beast, but had died before I could find him again. And the messenger that came bearing that news was nothing other than my grandson's death. A grandson who I had never even known existed. Do you understand that Mr. Potter? Do you understand the pain of having your entire world ripped to shreds around you, and then after painstakingly stitching a pathetic substitute for it back together, have it ripped apart yet again? Because if you do then you understand my actions perfectly."

Harry stared at the man, guilt and sympathy blending together into an uneasy feeling in his gut. It was a moment before he quietly replied, "Maybe I don't. I never really knew parents after all. But that doesn't change the fact that Lisa is innocent."

Wright sighed, his agitation slowly giving way to plain weariness.

"Mr. Potter. If you are going to spew that same nonsense about possession that Dumbledore is trying to feed the Wizengamot then you can save yourself the effort. That is a desperate effort by a desperate teacher who is too attached to his student to realize when that student has done something horrible, and I am in no way interested in it."

"Not even if I told you that Voldemort was involved?"

Wright froze. Harry knew he had his attention, "It was him. He was the one who possessed Lisa. He was the one who wanted to get a body back. That was what the potion was for."

"That is one hell of a far-fetched story Potter," Wright said unbelievingly, although his wide eyes and unflinching attention said otherwise. Somehow, Wright had already suspected something similar to what Harry was telling him.

"It's the truth," Harry said, pushing on, "Lucius Malfoy wanted to dispose of a dark artifact in his possession. A diary that held a memory…the spirit of Lord Voldemort. Somehow, he managed to slip the artifact to Lisa Turpin, who wrote in the diary, unknowingly feeding her magic to the spirit inside until it grew strong enough to possess her. He made her do all those horrible things. Throughout the entirety of this school year, he made her brew a potion to get his body back, using the petrifactions to get Dumbledore out of the school. And on the day of the Incident, he took her into the Chamber to use that potion. Dean managed to follow her in, and foiled his plan of using the potion."

Harry took another deep breath before continuing, "I came here today because I thought you deserved the truth about who killed Dean, and this is it. Whether you believe it or not is up to you."

Harry turned around, intending to leave.

He hadn't been sure coming into this office what the real purpose of this was. Dumbledore had countered Wright's influence and combined with the previous day's court proceedings, it was almost a sure thing that they were going to win. There was no need to convince Wright to change his mind. And yet something told him that he needed to do this. And now he had. He'd reached the door and was debating whether or not to blow the lock up when Wright's voice came.

"And how do you know all this?"

He turned around, facing Wright again. There was palpable uncertainty in his eyes.

Harry flatly replied, giving as much truth as he could, "When I went into the inner Chamber, Voldemort was still in her. He told me all that before he died, probably from some reaction that potion had, leaving Lisa unconscious."

Wright's eyes widened, "That is why you were late and weren't able to warn the school. The Dark Lord was stalling in his last moments. Delaying you."

A sharp spike of guilt ran through Harry's heart, which he immediately squashed down, "More or less."

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