I. Double, double, toil and trouble
~ something wicked this way comes ~ (William Shakespeare, from "Macbeth")
… something wicked this way comes!
Harry muttered with a crooked grin and a shake of his head while he folded the parchment paper back up and shoved it into the hip pocket of his jeans. Since he caught his daughter singing this song when he knocked on her door to say goodbye this morning, the old words got stuck in his head and he hummed snippets of the melody the whole day. And now, just in the moment he wanted to knock off work, this message arrived and the haunting earworm seemed to have something of a mocking foreshadow that waited just for this moment to make sense. He took a slightly annoyed deep breath, not because of the overtime, but rather because of Errol lying comatose on his desk. The Weasley's Great Grey Owl looked like a plucked feather duster and the top of the writing desk was littered with a good bunch of his coat.
Scourgify! With a flick of his wand and his mind the cleaning charm he removed the mess of feathers, grabbed a handful of owl treats out of the drawer and scattered it front of the bird. Afterwards he turned around and threw an evaluating glance at the window. Arthur's request was urgent, so he couldn't wait for the old owl to recover, but it was also unthinkable to lock up his office and leaving the window ajar. Sceptical he eyed up the rapid breathing feather ball. Though Errol was totally exhausted he felt a certain respect for him – nineteen years after he and Ron graduated from Hogwarts, the Weasley's true post owl was still alive and still on duty besides Pigwidgeon. Sometime's Harry asked himself if this dinosaur of an owl was deathless, in a way different nature than Scabbers so many years ago. Errol seemed to be the Mad Eye Moody of all owls and remembered him how Hedwig could have been if she had survived the days of the Second Wizard War.
With a sigh, Harry stepped up to the clothes hook. For a moment he hesitated, then he reached for his muggle jacket and slipped it over. His magic rain cloak found place on his desk, around Errol. It wasn't just water-repellent, its special charm was also soil proofing, so he wouldn't have a problem with bird droppings leaving Errol inside of this nest. It was certain enough his unforeseen side trip could last a few hours or even the whole night when Arthur Weasley was calling for help!
„Alright!" He sighed again, and with another flick of his wand he filled up his coffee cup with fresh water and slid it closer to Errol's improvisational nest. „But stay away from the wastebasket!"
He could imagine the basket looked more like a proper nest in Errol's eyes, but this would be a problem 'cause it wasn't made to collect the paperwaste, it was enchanted to eat it up, and Harry wasn't anxious about coming back into his office and finding a battleground instead of his workplace!
His hand found the invisible cloak in the rain cloak's pocket. After that, without more hesitation, he approached the door again and locked it from inside.
„Well then! Goodnight, Errol!"
The Grey Owl opened a single eye, blinked at him and then sank back to sleep again. Harry smiled to himself. In concentration he closed his own eyes. A moment later, the black-haired young man with the scar on his forehead was turning around on the spot, and unheard, only witnessed by the old bird, he vanished into thin air.
Seconds later, the squeezing, forced feeling was gone. Harry Potter stood motionless, looked around the dark side-alley and then up to the row of houses he apparated in front of. The face of the building Arthur instructed him to focus on showed an old, weather-beaten shop sign, similar to Ollivander's or Borgin and Burke's, with the only difference he just entered the muggle world.
Cray's Pawn Shop.
Besides the windows illuminated from inside, not a single sign of life could be heard or seen. Slowly, Harry stripped of the hood of his invisible cloak.
„Arthur?
A sudden sound was the answer. Like someone banging up, followed by a rumble and splittering.
„GOTCHA!"
What the – Harry didn't take time to wonder. His wandhand and feet nearly acted faster as he could think about. The door burst open, Harry rushed into the shop, wand at the ready -
„What the hell?!"
Again he froze, but now in disbelief! Arthur Weasley knelt in the middle of a mahogany writing desk, holding a glass cover with both hands, in whose inside a silver-glittering, narrow something rioted around! Numerous pieces of other furniture was overthrown in the room, and a cupreous blood smell hung in the air!
„Behind the counter!" Arthur replied.
„What?!"
„The shop's owner!" He was breathless and sweaty, still fighting against the small silver something that banged against the glass cover, snapping and growling like a wild animal.
„Is that a cheese dome?" Harry couldn't help but staring at the weird scene in front of him.
„Merlin, Harry, JUST DO SOMETHING!"
„Finite!"
Nothing happened.
„The common charms won't work! I already tried them!" His friend told him under gritted teeth. „I think you'll have to -"
„Yeah, great!" Harry rolled his eyes. Together with the ironic remark he was already struck by the awareness what they had to do. He raised his wand again, and this time he conjured a paintbrush out of nowhere.
„Okay, I'll count to three!"
His wand held the paintbrush levitated, and with an unsaid spell he forced it floating towards the cheese dome. Wingardium Leviosa! How long ago was it since he used this spell for the last time?
„One – two - - - THREE!"
Arthur raised the glass dome. The small narrow thing shot out of the cover, and again it was Harry's skilled capacity of reaction the paintbrush was speeded through the air – bristles forward. Several minutes a very strange fight unfolded between the two unlike objects. The paintbrush was swerving all attacks of the biting metal item, seemed to swordplay against it and finally, in one last concentrated moment, Harry managed the bristles wiping the shining surface … Hagrid's voice at the back of his mind.
„Yeh've got to stroke 'em."
The growling and snapping stopped. Snorting, Arthur breathed out and put the dome back over the resting item. Harry looked him over.
„Are you alright?"
„Yes, but the muggle isn't! That thing nearly ripped off his fingers!"
Harry walked around the sales counter. There, covered in his own blood, a man lay on the ground. He was totally passed out, but if out of his injuries, a shock or a spell Harry couldn't determine. But as an auror he was always prepared, even with his muggle jacket! He barely took time to take notice of a sharp nose and dark hair. Harry cowered down, pulled the Dittany Essence out of the inside pocket and started basting the wounds silent and quickly.
Meanwhile, Arthur Weasley had climbed down from the desk and approached him, still catching his breath.
„Could you please … cast a memory charm too?"
Without any words, Harry did what his friend asked for and then swiftly he got back on his feet.
„Okay, Arthur, what's going on here?! Are you sure you're not hurt?"
„Yes, I am!" Arthur's voice sounded calm, but then he paused with another deep breath and closed his eyes. Harry looked at him, also calm, but with the alerted and careful acuity of the auror he was. It wasn't just Arthur's behavior, the traces of a fight or the strange question, how Errol could fit into this picture. Something was wrong and his best friend's father avoided to tell him! After all that time they worked together for the ministry and years ago since he started to call him by his first name!
„Arthur, what is it?!"
„It's, erm … difficult to explain. And … somewhat embarrassing."
Harry blinked. Whatever he thought about, it wasn't that!
„My, erm … wand is gone."
„What?!"
Another deep sigh escaped from his lips.
„My wand is gone! Stolen by this … teen lad who's responsible for this mess!" He gestured into the room and then pointed back to the cheese dome. „Look at this!"
Irritated, Harry knit his brows and stepped towards the old wooden desk, staring at the next surprise. The argentic sparkling thing on the inside was an instrument!
„A harmonica?"
„Yes, and it locked jaws in his hands like a fighting dog gone wild! That's not just a prank, Harry, but … You see, I don't want him to go to Azkaban or St. Mungo's or something like that!"
„Huh?!"
„Something was strange about him. I don't think this was a serious attack. I was more like … how do the muggle's say? In the heat of the moment, you know? He was angry, for sure … all this was a pure rage reaction." Again, Arthur nodded at the overthrown, partly smashed furniture. „But his eyes were different. Desperate and … full of fear, as if he didn't know how to stop this riot thing by himself. And … he didn't use his own wand. It was an … emotional explosion."
Harry looked around. Now he noticed all the crashed shards and wood were parts of shattered shelves or cupboards, peppered with all sorts of commodity items: Electrical equipment, kitchenware, porcelain items, jewellery, antique paintings or pieces of smaller furniture and, as the harmonica itself, musical instruments. Most of them guitars, but -
„You think they had an argument? About the harmonica?"
„And about money. He … looked like a homeless."
Harry raised his eyebrows. „Maybe he just tried to look like a muggle! And – how on earth did you manage to send Errol for me when you were fighting with this guy?!"
„I already told you it was strange. Shortly before I arrived I sent a patronus message to Molly, only to tell her I have to make long hours. And when I arrived, I found this young lad with this guitar case on his back standing behind the sales counter and shouting at the harmonica to stop. I drew my wand to fix the matter, and this moment he became aware of me and everything exploded. I passed out myself – only a short time I think, but when I woke Errol was sitting on the long case clock over there! Ready with pen and paper, and my wand was gone – just as the guitar boy."
„So Errol showed up because of your kitchen clock. Mortal peril", Harry concluded. „And Molly didn't know where to find you but Errol does!"
„Exactly", Arthur confirmed his words with another nod and sighed again. „And you know Molly, she will be mad with fear about me and if she hears about the wand -"
„She'll kill you", Harry said dryly, and Arthur paused with a grimace.
„Yeah, and she wouldn't understand why I'm concerned about that boy. I hoped you could trace him. Talk to him and find out his motive. This wasn't just a robbery. Just in case if there's more than one victim in this matter. And … I would really appreciate if you could do it … discretely."
„Let sleeping dogs lie, right?" Harry gave him a smile. „Well, this is my job, I don't see a problem in that ... but first we should clean up this chaos. Then we'll pick up Errol and I'll bring you back home, so we can talk to Molly and get a closer look at this wicked instrument!"
Another flick of his wand, and the silver stag burst out of its tip and rushed off through the door, on his way to the burrow, to tell Molly Weasley her husband was alright.