"So, here's what I have issue with. If Riddle was supposed to have cast the killing curse at me... and the killing curse is supposed to leave no mark other than a look of surprised horror on the faces of its victims... how did it leave a mark on me?" Harry showed what was left of his scar. "How did it then utterly destroy Riddle's body? How did it blast a big hole in the wall, ceiling and roof of my nursery? "And all this is supposed to have happened from a curse that 'everyone knows' doesn't leave a mark. That, in and of itself, should have anyone with a lick of sense when they heard of that, saying, 'Bullshit! I don't believe you'.
"Further, if Riddle's wand was supposedly destroyed, there was no wand on which to cast the prior incantation charm to determine what Riddle, if it actually was him, actually cast. That is, whether or not it was actually the killing curse. And, finally, how does a relatively normal fifteen month old wizarding infant survive a supposedly unsurvivable curse?"
"Then, since I was the only one apparently left alive in the cottage, how is it that all those books supposedly written as fact about that night, actually have said facts? Since I was the only one there left alive, I was the only one who could have said anything. That I was only fifteen months old at the time, and my vocabulary was very limited, I believe I can state for the record I wasn't the one who told them."
"Do you have answers to those questions, Mister Chief Interrogator?" Harry softly asked, not expecting an answer.
Fitzwilliam sat there for long few moments, chewing over that information. He eventually started looking around to see if anyone had the answers. Finally, still looking around, he asked to everyone, "Anyone?"
"Spell residue," someone called.
"My mother was apparently killed by the killing curse, within a baby's arm reach, directly in front of me," Harry replied. "There's your residue." "Then what else could someone else blurted out.
have
happened?"
"Unlike authors of books trying to pass off their speculation as fact, I won't do so," replied Harry. "However, I'll leave you with this thought. Unless you can categorically state that someone was there and has admitted to seeing the whole thing, how do you know Riddle, the person you all refer to by those silly hyphenated names... You-Know-Who, et cetera... is dead? That he hasn't since been seen or attacked anyone else is naught but circumstantial evidence of his demise. Someone has been selling you all a bill of defective cauldrons. And, you folks lapped it all up and asked for more.
"No. I think someone set me up to be seen as the hero of magical Britain. Someone, for whatever vile purpose, wants everyone to see me as their hero; their saviour. And it has to be someone who, when they say something that everyone should have immediately scoffed at as nonsense, you all believed. So, you've either all been confounded, or you trust that person's words utterly, in the face of and directly refutable by evidence."
Many people looked back at Harry in horror, from both the assembled and the visitors.
"But, you killed horrified spectator.
him!"
exclaimed
one
"Rubbish!" Harry shot right back. "Where's your proof?
"Think also about this, if I really did kill Riddle that night... well, Albus Dumbledore received an Order of Merlin, First Class, for defeating his Dark Lord, Grindelwald... the Ministry must not have thought I'd killed Riddle; or, I'd have received one, too. Right?
"It really surprises me that the wizarding public were so ready to accept Riddle was dead. Clearly, based on the evidence, someone stood up and intoned, 'Voldemort is dead!' and everyone went, 'Yay!' Didn't anyone bother to ask, 'Where's your evidence? Where're his remains? Where's his wand? Where is one skerrick of proof that shows Voldemort is truly dead?' Hmm?
"Yes, my nursery was blown up. And it may very well have been shrapnel from the structure, walls, ceiling or roof of the cottage that gave me my scar. That's a far more likely scenario, isn't it?
"Then, I'm taken from my nursery by either Albus Dumbledore or someone operating under his instructions. Now, at that point, its two days before my godfather, Sirius Black was supposed to have killed Pettigrew and thirteen muggles. At that point, my godmother, Alice Longbottom, is with her husband, Frank; mother-in-law, Augustus Longbottom; and her son, Neville. They weren't attacked for a further three days. By rights, I should have been with young Neville, by then.
"However, is that where Albus Dumbledore takes me? Does he hold onto me and properly... and rightfully... hand me over to either my godfather or godmother? Merlin, no! Doing the right thing is clearly against Albus Dumbledore's idea of what he believes is right. To Hell with the wishes of baby Harry's parents, James and Lily Potter. I'll just kidnap the brat and go dump him at his all-things-wizarding-hating muggle aunt and uncle's place in Surrey." "Mister Potter!" roared Dumbledore, again rising to his feet. "Stop this nonsense, at once!"
With a few bangs of his gavel, Fitzwilliam almost shouted back, "Sit down, Chief Warlock. You're clearly in enough trouble, as it is! It is for this enquiry to determine what it will and will not hear. And, we're quite eager to hear more from Mister Potter.
"Mister Potter is speaking to matters relating to the article that appeared in the Daily Prophet. He is on topic. You will not interrupt!"
Turning back to Harry, Fitzwilliam called, "Mister Potter."
Harry went for broke, at that point. "I can easily picture Mister Dumbledore's actions of that night and the next. 'I'm Albus flippin' Dumbledore, and I don't give a flying toss what his parent's last wishes were. I'm just going to dump the brat at the last place he should have gone. Except, of course, directly into the arms of Riddle's little band of blood bigots.
"And... if anyone asks why I did it... I'll just tell them it's for the greater good. Then, they'll all bow to my greatness. After all, if anyone does question my motives... not that they really will... I'll just clam up and say something like, 'I cannot answer that question as it relates to the security of the wizarding world'; or some other such nonsense. They wouldn't dare question me after I tell them that."
With a snort and shake of his head showing supreme disappointment, he continued, "Albus Dumbledore is the one who dumped me at my wizard-hating relatives where I was systematically abused for the next ten years. Albus Dumbledore is the one who immediately claimed magical guardianship of me, with the aid of you people in the Wizengamot. A guardianship, mind, that should have rightfully gone to Alice Longbottom, since Sirius Black was hunting down Death Eater Peter Pettigrew at the time. It was then Albus Dumbledore's responsibility to check up on my welfare... as was his now and wrongfully claimed duty... and didn't!
"It was Albus Dumbledore, after I finally arrived at Hogwarts, who received reports from the school nurse as to my malnourishment, poor health, and physical evidence of abuse; and did not act. It is Albus Dumbledore, who continues to demand I return to the abuse of my aunt and uncle every summer; though he knows I am abused there; and no matter how many times I have told him of the abuse I receive there.
.
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