# Two sides of the same coin. Part 1. Chapter 3

Аноним Alteya

A conversation with McNair. Lunch.

Chapter 3

"Why did you come to Voldemort?" Harry repeated, looking at his interlocutor.

His elongated face had once been well-shaped, but now his sunken cheeks made him look like a skull covered in skin that was unhealthily pale and thin, riddled with wrinkles, and now smeared in places with green herbal juice. His lips were just as colorless, some of his teeth were missing, but for some reason his beard was missing, his face was clean-shaven, and his hair, which had lost color and was thick in some places, was pulled back in a ponytail, which was now completely disheveled. In general, he looked pitiful, and the only thing that contradicted this impression now were his eyes - shiny, bright, without fatigue or fear, which always settled in the gaze of those who had spent at least a few months in Azkaban - Harry could no longer remember if that expression had been in them before their strange walk.

"It's simple," McNair replied, also openly examining the auror sitting in front of him. "I didn't like Muggleborns. They really pissed me off back then."

"Then?" Harry asked.

"Then," McNair chuckled. "It doesn't matter now."

"With what?"

"What infuriated?" he asked again and thought about it. "They... come to our world and stay in it, not knowing and not observing the laws. And they destroy it. I didn't like it."

"And that's why you decided to kill them?"

"I was seventeen," McNair shrugged. "And I really wanted to serve someone. Did you see what he looked like then?"

"Did you want to serve?"

It was strange and unexpected. Harry was not surprised by the information about the dislike of Muggleborns, but the desire to serve in its purest form was incomprehensible to him. It's clear to serve some idea... to all people... but to want to be someone's servant?

"I wanted to," McNair nodded. "Don't you understand?"

"Not really..."

"It's complicated," McNair mused. "I'm not the best storyteller.... But yes, I wanted to serve. Everyone in our family served. Previously, this was not difficult: there was a suzerain, there was a king ... yes, the head of the family at least. And here I am..."

"But... why?" Harry was even taken aback. "What's in it for you? For what?"

"It's just life," McNair shrugged. "This is the way to live. Everyone is born for something. You're a hero," he said as easily as if he'd called Harry an auror, or a salesman, or a teacher, "and I was born to serve. Well, that's it...."

"And now?" Harry thought he hadn't heard anything so... wild in a long time.

"It's not relevant right now," McNair chuckled. "Azkaban solves this issue perfectly."

"No, I mean, when are you coming out?"

"Will I get out?" He burst out laughing. "You're a joker, Mr. Potter. I'm not getting out of there. If you remember."

"Well no... so... That's the whole point", Harry had forgotten that he didn't know anything about the reason he was here, and therefore the question must seem mocking to him.

"Actually, that's why I called you", It was a pity to change the subject, but on the other hand, the moment was too opportune. "I want to review some cases, and yours in particular. I believe you've been in Azkaban long enough - but the decision is made, of course, by the Wizengamot.... That's why I need your help. I'll explain."

There was silence. McNair just sat there for a while, seemingly realizing what he had heard, then an expression of surprise appeared on his face, he frowned slightly and clarified:

"Do you want to let me go?"

"I can't let anyone go!" Harry grimaced. "I can only initiate a review of the cases and prepare them accordingly. But the Wizengamot decides. And here's the problem."

"Wow," McNair said softly. "why?" He suddenly looked into Harry's eyes. There was no surprise in his gaze anymore - there was attention, alertness, and something that Harry defined as "study."

"Why what?"

"That's right... For starters, why me?"

"Actually, initially I was thinking about Avery," Harry admitted honestly.

McNair's eyebrows went up again.

"Then I reread all your files.... Even then, you weren't charged with any murder outside of combat. And you..."

He paused, almost saying, "Don't give the impression of being dangerous." Perhaps McNair would have taken it as an insult, and that's not the best thing to say to a person if you want to get or learn something from them.

"And me?" he asked.

"Your wand was checked. They didn't find any Cruciatus or Imperio on her... just a few Awads."

"So what?"

"I'm..." Is that how to explain it? Even Ginny and Ron didn't understand at the time why Harry considered a person using Avada better in some ways than using Cruciatus, much less Imperio. Of course, anything can happen, but in general, it's better. More honest, at least. And definitely not as dangerous.

"It doesn't matter," he waved his hand. "What difference does it make to you?"

"Indeed," he agreed easily. "So you've decided to let Avery and me go.... Yes, yes, I remember," he nodded at Harry's grimace. "I'm doing this for brevity. And what's the problem? Do you want to teach us what to say in court?"

"I... don't!" Harry even raised his voice in outrage.

"I'm sorry," his interlocutor immediately reacted. "I judge everyone by myself." He sounded serious, but Harry could tell he was joking, even if it was weird. Although everything was already strange here...

"It doesn't matter," he smiled briefly, and suddenly offered, "would you like some tea? Or to eat? Lunch time has long since ended, but the elves will find something...."

"You know," McNair replied after a short pause, "if you also offer to wash me, I will completely lose faith in the reality of what is happening."

"Is it in Azkaban..."

"It's... different. It doesn't matter," he tilted his head back and shook it slightly from side to side, stretching his neck. "Of course, I will not refuse lunch."

"Then order... What do you want?"

"Meat. Chicken. Fresh bread. Fruits. Anything but oatmeal, boiled vegetables with fish, and pumpkin."


"You didn't tell me what the problem was," McNair reminded him when lunch was ordered and the elf disappeared. "With the Wizengamot."

"The fact that there are only two of you. I did add one more thing, but it's still not enough. The Wizengamot will not gather less than..."

"For three or more cases of the same type," McNair finished for him. "In our case, it is clearly "and more." That is, you need another one. I repeat, what does that have to do with me?"

"I want to know your opinion. Who would you release if you were deciding?"

"Me?!" McNair was amazed. "I must say, Mr. Potter, you've chosen a strange... adviser. You should have asked Avery."

"I'm asking you," Harry countered.

"Who should I choose from?"

"Here," Harry handed him the list. McNair thought about it, then said with a grin:

"You can't let anyone out here, seriously. It's all about the case. Except maybe Avery."

"Why Avery?" the answer was wrong - in the sense that Harry, by and large, agreed with him, but the problem was not solved that way. However, the fact that both he and the former minister's executioner agreed on this man was interesting, and he wanted to hear the rationale.

"Because he's a coward," McNair laughed. "For which I got it all the time from everywhere. Smart, curious, funny-but a coward. He doesn't seem to have ever killed anyone, except by accident and also out of fear. He got to the Lord solely out of cowardice... in general, he's not dangerous at all, and he certainly served his time."

"What do you mean, "I got to the Lord out of cowardice"?" Harry asked with eager curiosity. "How is this possible?"

"Well... I met him and I was scared," McNair smiled. "The lord was interested in him, invited him, but Avery didn't have the heart to refuse. That's how he took the mark," he laughed again. "No, he's really good. He was just unlucky enough to be in the wrong place at the wrong time one day. Dad, again."

"What's Dad?"

"They were classmates with the Lord. In any case, they definitely studied at the same time in Slytherin. I think he introduced Marcus to him.... But you'd better ask Avery himself. Treat him to lunch with a good dessert - he will do a lot for you for a pie with cherries", he laughed again, not unkindly, but rather a little condescendingly. "I didn't help, did I?"

"Yes," Harry sighed. "I need to choose two more, otherwise it won't work."

"Lestranges, then. Strictly speaking, of course, Rodolphus, but he won't go without his brother."

"No," Harry snapped. "It's not up for discussion."

"And who is being discussed?" McNair was not at all embarrassed.

At that moment, an elf appeared with a huge tray, and the conversation was temporarily interrupted as lunch began. Harry had never seen anyone eat both greedily and slowly before, savoring every bite and sip, sniffing, examining, lingering in their mouths... They didn't talk: Harry didn't want to interfere with such a strange and intense pleasure, and McNair seemed to have simply forgotten about anything other than what he was doing directly. When most of it was eaten, Harry, eager to continue the conversation, said:

"If you want, you can take whatever remains with you. It's a bit against the rules, but I don't think anyone will object.

"Thank you," McNair didn't answer immediately, but it sounded so sincere that Harry was even embarrassed: no food was worth, in his opinion, such gratitude. McNair seems to have noticed it:

"Are you surprised? Is such a small thing not worth such gratitude?"

"Well ... anyway... I guess," Harry looked confused. "It's just food."

"This," he chuckled, "is not just food. It's human food. It's not the same thing."

"Are you poorly fed?" Harry was very surprised.

"Not that it's bad," McNair stammered, searching for words, "rather... terrible," he chuckled. "It's always exactly the same. Oatmeal - toast with beans - boiled vegetables with fish. There is, however, a variety here - according to the season, I suppose. So... How long have I been sitting there? How many years have passed?"

"Twenty," Harry replied cautiously after a pause. "Almost."

At these words, his companion's eyes widened and flashed - there was a flicker of disbelief, then amazement, and then something else that Harry couldn't recognize, but he didn't like it.

"Twenty years," McNair said softly. "Can you imagine: twenty years of oatmeal and boiled fish?"

He said it quite seriously, even his eyes weren't smiling, but it turned out to be very funny - Harry couldn't help but snort, and only then McNair's face came alive, laughter splashed in his eyes, and his lips parted in a wide smile.

"That's why it's not just food," he finished, smiling. "I'm really grateful to you. It's nice to feel like a human being."

"Then help me find the other two," Harry asked.