Kingsley sat in the middle of the floor in the headmistress's office, Indian-style. As this was one of the few places not destroyed by the Battle of Hogwarts, he retreated here because he needed someplace to think. There had to be a game plan in place after the chaos lifted. After Harry Potter went off to bed in his dormitory, Kingsley escaped here with a legal pad and rolls of parchment scattered around him.
Death surrounded him. He tried not to think of the losses, though this proved an impossible task, so he focused on drafting a floor plan from the ground up. As Fred Weasley's face swam into his mind, he recalled the Weasley twins joking about his bid for Minister for Magic. A joke was simply a joke, right? Words meant nothing, absolutely nothing, until someone placed meaning behind them. Kingsley jotted down a quick list without thinking; he emptied his brain. If he analyzed this to death, he'd never get it down onto parchment or paper.
The headmistress left him alone and went to put out small fires. Returning every so often, Minerva McGonagall asked if he needed anything, and he gave the same answer. No, he was fine. Kingsley got up and paced the office, stretching his legs and sometimes talking to himself. Well into the evening, past the wee hours, she let him stay there. She came back around eight-thirty, stepped away to take a shower, and sat behind her desk.
Kingsley felt her watching him when he set aside a roll of parchment scribbled with notes. The final draft, or a draft in the works, got transferred into the legal pad. "I am not a crazy man."
"Nobody said you were," she said.
"I talk to myself," he said apologetically, scratching his chin with a quill.
"That's all right."
When he offered to leave for either the third or fourth time, Professor McGonagall glared at him and gave him a look he hadn't received in years. Kingsley ripped a sheet off the legal pad and tossed it into the fire. The more he scribbled, the more this joke started to sound like the beginnings of an idea. A house-elf came in and set tea and sandwiches on the floor next to him. Kingsley stopped and reached for one of them. He didn't notice darkness had fallen.
"The government has to survive this," he said, stretching his legs because he'd been locked in the same position for hours. The eyes of the portraits of headmasters and headmistresses in the walls followed him. None of them said a word. It took a minute for Kingsley to realize they might think he shared a private conversation with one. He pointed his wand at the dying fire, and flames ignited in the grate, startling Minerva. he wondered if she'd even listened to his musings and nothings. "There has to be something left to save, or else there's no point. What's the point?"
Minerva placed a hand on her forehead. "You're brilliant."
"I am?" This sounded odd to him, so Kingsley started pacing in a circle and retreated back into his head.
Brilliance scared him, although he was no stranger to failure. His father, a wealthy man who spent his money and his free time on alchemical pursuits, lived by a handful of sayings. Whether they were of his own invention and drawn from his own personal experiences, Kingsley did not know. Hadn't he failed with Sirius? If Sirius hadn't gone off to the Department of Mysteries two summers ago, he would've walked away a free man.
"Or he could've gotten hit by the Knight Bus," said Kingsley, rubbing his tired eyes. He smiled to himself, and Minerva, picking up on the fact that he wasn't speaking to her again, wrote something down. "There are things within our control and things that are not, but we have a hand in most of it."
Minerva dipped her quill in an ink bottle and left it there. "Are you talking to me again?" She took off her spectacles, set them aside, and considered him. Kingsley doubted she could see him. Kingsley nodded, second guessed this move, and said yes. She actually smiled. "Kingsley, would a man die of starvation or thirst first?"
Thinking perhaps she was pulling a Professor Dumbledore here, Kingsley studied the portrait of the old man behind her. Dumbledore was sleeping.
"Starvation," he answered automatically, placing his hands behind his back and falling into a military stance.
"Why?" Minerva's eyebrows knitted together when Kingsley smiled at her, for she knew why. "Pretend I'm stupid."
"There is water in food," he said, shrugging. He could give the really in-depth answer here, since she'd asked, but he spared her the details. "Find water, and food will eventually come. You'd have to work at it, of course, but it's simply laying the groundwork and going from there."
"What?" She'd pretended to zone out for a moment and cupped a hand around her ear. Kingsley bowed his head, playing his last words back through his mind. Minerva picked a piece of rumble off the ground and tossed it into the air.
Kingsley caught it. "Thank you, Professor McGonagall," he said softly, slipping the chunk of whatever was into his pocket. When he reached the door, he turned around to face her again. The Head's Office had sealed itself against most of the damage during the battle. "You could've said something."
"I'm a teacher, Mr. Shacklebolt," she said, raising her wand and drawing a chair. It landed on the floor. "I wouldn't want to be doing you a disservice. Talk to me."
Kingsley, who felt stupid that he hadn't thought of that move, sat down after he picked up his things off the floor. He back had started ached and his left foot tickled because it had fallen asleep.
"Where do I start?" He searched for the place where he'd stopped. A lot of his notes made no sense whatsoever.
"At the beginning," she suggested. She rested her chin on her hand. "Jump in any time, Albus. unless you want him to drown."
"Hey," said Kingsley, looking up at Professor Dumbledore. The professor opened his eyes and returned Kingsley's smile.
"Hello, Kingsley," said Professor Dumbledore, drumming his fingers on his chair. "The trick to building a foundation is finding the foundation first. What do you want?"
Kingsley shut up again, hating their cryptic answers at this point. He'd been thinking alone for hours and hours, whilst these Heads held their tongues. He didn't look for the answers in his notes. "It's not that simple."
"You mentioned control. Make it simple." Professor Dumbledore waited for this to set in, and when this did nothing for Kingsley, he threw the same question back at him, raising his voice, speaking slower. "What do you want? What do you want?"
"It's not …" Kingsley flipped through his brainstorming mess so fast he saw nothing there. He cleared his throat and swallowed his pathetic excuse. "I want structure, security, and stability. I want peace."
"All right." Professor Dumbledore nodded, accepting the answer. "Which comes first?"
"Security," said Kingsley, nodding, believing his words for the first time.
He couldn't pretend that he hadn't considered this idea whenever Fred Weasley had planted the seed in his head. Really, he couldn't recall at this point whether it was Fred, or his twin brother, or Lee Jordan at this point, but what did it matter? Turning to a fresh page, he placed the legal pad on his knee, dripped his quill in an ink bottle, and started writing again.
He underlined the heading and jotted down three names: Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Neville Longbottom.
"Harry's not coming back to school," said Kingsley. "He's mine."
"Mr. Weasley will be so disappointed," said Minerva, placing her things in a drawer and locking it with a tap of her wand.
"Oh, I'm taking him, too. Mr. Potter needs his ginger sidekick." Kingsley jotted down some more stuff before he got to his feet again. Minerva scoffed. "And Neville. I want Neville."
"He's finished with school," she said, cleaning her spectacles.
"Right. Don't imagine I'd have to fight Augusta Longbottom for him, do you? Frank trained me, after all, and I like having a Longbottom along for the ride." Kingsley strode over and shook her hand after he tossed the rolls of parchment in the flames. "Let me know if you need anything."
"Of course." Crossing her fingers, Minerva said nothing else until he reached the door. "I might actually like the government for once."
"Don't get your hopes up!" Kingsley winked at her. "Good meeting."
"Kingsley?"
"Yes, Professor?"
"A wise man once said every human life is worth the same, and worth saving*." Minerva quoted him verbatim off the Potterwatch program. He felt flattered and confused at the same time, for he hadn't known that she'd listened in. He opened his mouth to say something, though Kingsley had no idea what, and she said, smiling, "and I'd like to add everyone is worth dragging back into the light."
Kingsley, not really knowing what to say here, simply turning the doorknob.
She didn't call after him until he started down the spiral staircase. "Not a meeting, Mr. Shacklebolt."
Three days later, Kingsley stood in the Atrium and took it all in for a moment. Except for the grotesque sight that replaced the Fountain of Magical Brethren, it looked the same. Already resigned to the fact that this was going to be the longest summer of his life, Kingsley stuck his hands in his trouser pockets and continued on his way, whistling a random tune.
He'd returned from having lunch with the Minister of Muggles, the Prime Minister, and he had reason to believe the fellow really liked him. Kingsley hadn't taken out his wand and started performing magic tricks for one thing, and he'd given the man ample time to say whatever he needed. He'd complained that he hadn't met Kingsley's predecessor, and Kingsley assured him for all intents and purposes, unless he really wanted to meet Lord Voldemort's marionette, this really was of no consequence. Voldemort might've killed the Minister of Muggles for the hell of it. Frankly, and Kingsley kept this last bit to himself, he was surprised Lord Voldemort hadn't played that card.
He met the boys at the Fountain of Magical Brethren. Kingsley corrected himself, for they were young men now, and they'd certainly seen more than he'd imagined at their age. Kingsley had only been in regular contact with Neville during the war, and this was rare, usually through encrypted owls, since Kingsley had been on the run. He'd accidentally made himself a marked man by saying Lord Voldemort's name.
"So Kingsley," said Ron, practically dancing on the balls of his feet in anticipation. "What're we doing today?"
"Well, usually there's an initiation process," piped up Neville, bringing up the rear.
Kingsley nodded, a little surprised that he'd heard about the hazing within the Auror Department. As he was the son of Frank and Alice Longbottom, Kingsley supposed this wasn't much of a stretch because Neville's grandmother liked to brag about her son. To hear Augusta Longbottom say it, Frank was a gift from God.
Hours before, Kingsley had been sworn in as the acting Minister for Magic. He didn't hold the office in an official capacity, but as Mr. Pius Thicknesse was "unable to hold the office", he shouldered the responsibility. Kingsley had said the words, reciting them after Tiberius Ogden, not realizing that he'd have to say them again if and when he actually became Minister for Magic.
"How's the Prime Minister?" asked Harry. "Did he freak out when a wizard showed up in his office?"
"He is fine," said Kingsley, smiling, "and he does not freak out in front of me. He did seem to think it was odd that his former secretary ended up as Minister for Magic. But I told him I know my letters really well, and I'm a bit of a perfectionist."
"You are?" Ron took in his immaculate suit and his polished shoes and decided not to question Kingsley's self-diagnosis. "Yeah, yeah, I can see that."
"You should see Sirius's file," said Kingsley, placing his hand on Harry's shoulder and steering him towards the lift. Kingsley was a liar, yet he lied well. When they stepped onto the second floor instead of the Minister's office, Ron asked if they were visiting his father. Kingsley straightened the sign reading "Auror Headquarters"; it fell back into place at its odd angle. "Nope. This is your new home, gentlemen."
They grinned at each other. Remembering his first day at this place more than twenty years ago, Kingsley showed them around by giving them a brief tour. Past the maze of cubicles, a training station stood in the back. This place, shared by both Aurors Headquarters and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was known colloquially as the Annex; a research centre for the bookworm lawyers and a training station for the Aurors, this place was the heart of the second floor. Kingsley placed his wand on a set of brass scales. It followed the exact same procedure upon entering the Ministry through the visitors' entrance, minus the bored security guard.
Tearing off the slip of parchment, Kingsley handed it to Ron and stared at a clink in the glass, an Eye Recognition Charm built into the barrier. A cool female voice recited Kingsley's name, including his rank. Impressed, Harry, Ron, and Neville exchanged looks again, though to Kingsley, this was akin to turning off the alarm clock every morning. A cavernous room stood behind the charmed glass barrier. Cubby holes lined the far walls.
A ballgown was draped over one of the scattered folding chairs. Kingsley shrugged off his suit jacket and tossed it over this carelessly. Stepping out of his dress shoes, he placed these in a cubby hole and swapped them out for a pair of well worn trainers. A tall man with a long ponytail stood off to the side dressed in casual robes, and Kingsley introduced him as Kaspar Williamson.
"I dismissed the whole department," said Kingsley, tying his trainer laces and stripping off his dress shirt. He added this to the stuff on the chair, too, and he was pleased the boys had followed his tip on wearing Muggle clothing today because they'd be more comfortable.
"Why?" Harry spoke up first. Kingsley couldn't blame him. He'd second guessed his own idea at first, too, yet a fresh start meant a turning a new page. Considering the damage in the other departments, the losses in the Auror Department were minimal. "What if something happens?"
"Nothing's going to happen," said Kingsley reassuringly.
"We're screwed," admitted Kaspar, circling the recruits and sizing them up, "but there's nothing to really protect at the moment. I got reinstated this morning."
"What makes you special?" asked Ron, interested.
"Dunno. Thanks for volunteering as sparring partner, though, ginger, that's brave of you." Kaspar taped his hands and jerked his head towards the floor mat in the centre of the room. Ron gulped, glancing nervously at Harry. Harry laughed, shrugging.
"Harry and Neville, stand back, please. You don't need a wand here, Ron," said Kingsley, holding out his hand. Ron looked even more uncomfortable, if this were possible, yet he surrendered his wand after a moment or two. Kingsley nodded at Kaspar. "Where's my wife?"
"You're married?" Harry and Neville asked together, shocked.
Wordlessly, Kingsley fingered the chain around his neck, showing them the Christian cross and wedding band that hung there. When a man lost himself in disguises and aliases as often as he did, these things became mere trinkets, and they sometimes revealed possible weaknesses, too, so he kept his private life under lock and key.
"He has a daughter, too," said Kaspar, grinning as he waved Ron over. Ron reminded Kingsley of a man walking the plank, rigid and timid. Kaspar showed him a stance, which Ron attempted to mirror as Kaspar moved like a prowling cat. Ron, complaining Muggle dueling was a waste of time, made his first mistake. Kaspar threw the first punch and hit him squarely in the jaw. He acted like they discussed the weather and taunted Ron with a flick of his wrist. Ron, still on his feet, missed. Kaspar threw up three fingers. "She's three. She likes bunnies and apple slices."
Harry took the bait. "What's her name?"
"Rachelle." Kingsley crossed his arms, only mildly interested in the sparring match. He expected Ron Weasley to get an ass kicking. He hadn't, however, expected him to be the first example of the day. Since he was essentially streamlining them into a crash course over the next few months, he let his guard down. He looked around, curiosity breaking his professional tone because he hadn't seen his Rachelle in almost a year. "She stays in New York with her mother. Where is she, Kaspar?"
The barrier to the Annex opened again minutes later. A white woman dressed in casual clothes, her auburn hair tied back in a ponytail, entered the room, shifting plastic grocery bags in her arms, her wand balanced on top of these. Rachelle followed her inside. Kingsley introduced his wife and daughter, relaxing a little, and scooped up his little girl.
"Hello." Kingsley brushed the think curls out of Rachelle's eyes.
"Do you even remember that man? Don't talk to strangers." Kaspar swerved from Ron's fist easily and knocked him to the ground with a one-two punch as he swept him off his feet. Ron, cradling his sore jaw, stared at him, flummoxed. Kaspar offered him a hand, pulling him to his feet, and winked at Kingsley's daughter.
"Don't tell her that. She knows who I am." Kingsley shifted his daughter in his arms, as Rachelle wrapped her arms around his neck. "Ron, it's your footing. Find your centre of gravity and put your body into it. Momentum is your friend."
Ron scowled at Kaspar.
"Stay with Mama, I'll be right over there," said Kingsley, pecking Rachelle on the cheek and kissing his wife as he gave Rachelle to her. "Good afternoon, darling, you're beautiful."
"Haven't heard that in a while," said Patti. He used to tell her that every day.
"Okay. You two want to do a round of rock, paper, scissors to settle the score?" Kingsley turned towards Neville and Harry. Neville, confused, acted as though Kingsley just spoke Greek, and Kingsley played a quick round with Kaspar. "Scissors beats paper. That's me. Mr. Longbottom."
Patti laughed when Kaspar mentioned a fellow getting the stuffing knocked out of him by the Minister for Magic. Kingsley had made the call because Neville didn't seem to grasp the point of the little game. Like Kaspar, he demonstrated the stance, explaining that people got disarmed all the time. It happened. They needed other ways to defend themselves whenever they backed themselves out of a corner. Aurors weren't perfect, and there were better duelers out there. When Ron got cheeky, saying he and Harry had been on their own for the better part of a year, Kingsley danced on his feet and showed Neville how to block his face.
"You don't have Hermione Granger in your back pocket today, Ron," said Kingsley lightly.
Throwing out a punch, which Neville ducked. Kingsley appreciated that Neville paid attention. Neville shifted his feet without being told to do so. If Ron wanted to sulk, that was fine, but he wasn't going to waste neither Kingsley's nor Kaspar's time. Kingsley shuffled his feet and demonstrated an upper cut and a few other jabs, which Neville got after a couple tries as they sliced through the air. Without warning, Kingsley jumped into the sparring session, and Neville more surprised than anyone, caught Kingsley in the torso twice.
Kaspar applauded his effort and raised his fist, punching the air. "Mine!"
"Who're you?" asked Patti, picking up Rachelle's untied shoe when it fell onto the floor.
"Neville. Neville Longbottom." Neville wiped his brow, grinning a little when Patti laughed with her whole body. Kingsley shrugged. "What?"
"Your father trained him and me," she said, nodding at Kingsley as she gathered herself. "Not an Auror anymore. I left after putting in ten years of service. But your parents? They were something else. And you're a fighter. Are you awake now, Minister, or do you need a minute? Need a breather?"
"Because you're old, see." Kaspar filled in the blank unnecessarily because Kingsley got the jab.
Patti rapped her knuckles against Neville's, a gesture Kingsley thought she'd picked up in the States. He'd never seen it before. Neville, however, thought it was hilarious. "Well done, Mr. Longbottom."
"Thanks," said Neville, accepting some water from Ron.
"Daddy is strong," said Rachelle.
"Thank you," said Kingsley, getting ready for another go with Neville. He wasn't shabby because he'd joust come off a war and had scraped by on his own for months. This time, Neville lasted for nearly six minutes, and he didn't surrender. He'd also decided to Apparate as he shifted position, not letting Kingsley back him into a corner. Both Kingsley and Kaspar praised him for this move, and Kingsley was thrown off for a minute. Neville didn't take advantage of this hesitation, something Harry pointed out, rooting for Neville. Before the Battle of Hogwarts, Kingsley had kept himself to his usual strict diet. Kingsley excelled in pretty much everything he did in the Auror Department. "She likes me."
"She's your daughter, your princess," said Patti and Kaspar in unison.
Kingsley nodded. What did he care? After another round of rock, paper, scissors, Kingsley stepped back, and Kaspar took a round with Harry. Lithe and level-headed, saying something about his cousin, Harry held his own, too. He actually grabbed Kaspar, a fit man who flew through annual physicals, and rammed him into a wall after Kaspar stepped on his glasses. Kaspar, never one to back down, found the pressure point in Harry's neck, temporarily controlling him.
When they got into the middle of the mat, Kaspar told Harry to punch with the thumb inside his fist because it did no good to attack like a little girl. He must put his weight behind it. After repairing Harry's glasses and giving them back to him, Kaspar demonstrated on Kingsley, who stood there like a brick wall as the officer struck him again and again.
"How the hell are you this fit right now?" Frustrated, flexing his fingers, Kaspar landed one final blow into Kingsley and stopped whenever he got winded. Kingsley had blocked out the pain and felt very little. "Patti, feed your husband a pastry once in a while. Eat a doughnut, Kingsley, and get some normal in your life."
"Okay, we'll do another round later." Kingsley called a time out and handed his daughter off to Kaspar. He left with the recruits and grabbed the groceries. The door to the Annex sealed itself ehind them. "I like the dress."
"I have a speaking engagement in the city. When your appointment reaches the papers, you'll be glad to have me by your side." Patti was a political strategist who worked for the United Kingdom and across the pond. She caressed his cheek. "I'm free after that if you want to grab dinner."
"Yeah. There's an Indian takeout place three streets down." He stopped when she started kissing him.
He'd forgotten how much he missed her touch and her lips. She didn't care about dinner plans. Neither did he, for Kingsley couldn't remember the last time they'd shared a bed. When he suggested Rachelle spend the night at Kaspar's, Patti jumped on the offer before he'd finished saying it. He chuckled, holding her at arm's length when she tried to kiss him again. He offered up no excuses because they'd both gotten wrapped up in their lives.
He'd forgotten her. "Been a while hasn't it?"
"Since Rachelle."
"Oh, yeah, that's bad." Feeling guilty, Kingsley wondered if he could get away with passing Rachelle off to Kaspar for the weekend. Kaspar was a divorced father two children, a boy and a girl. Patti nodded, saying she'd actually counted the days of this dry spell. She crackled her knuckles and massaged the tension from his neck and shoulders.
"Patti, Patti," said Kaspar, coming back into the Annex, a half-eaten sandwich in his hand. Patti dropped her hands and offered Kingsley his suit jacket and his shirt. Kingsley fastened the shirt with quick fingers. "I've decided to make Kingsley eat a marshmallow fluff and honey sandwich. It's like a Cruciatus Curse, except it's food."
Kingsley gagged. "No, thank you. I'll take a plain salad."
"You can eat your rabbit food after," said Patti, patting him on the cheek.
Kingsley lost his appetite.
July arrived. How exactly was he supposed to cram three years of education into three months? Luckily, Hermione took the logical path and decided to return to school for her seventh year. What mattered and what could wait? Lessons came with time, and this was exactly what Kingsley didn't have. He offered Patti an invitation into the Auror Department, promising her old rank, and privileges, and everything, yet she'd laughed him out of his own flat one morning.
She had promised to stay in England.
"Mama's in a mood." He should've seen this coming.
Kingsley took Rachelle's hand and led her down the street. Ron, Harry, and Neville weren't going to turn into Mad-Eye Moody overnight. There would not be another Mad-Eye. When he noticed the reporters tailing them, Kingsley sighed, thinking this got old too quickly, and decided to carry his daughter. When they reached the Apparition point, he turned on his heel and vanished.
When they reappeared at King's Cross Station, Kingsley snapped his fingers, annoyed with his carelessness. When nobody else was looking, he took out his wand and caught a battered suitcase knotted with lots of string. It used to belong to Remus. When Remus jokingly asked what he wanted in exchange for putting up with all the craziness behind the scenes with Potterwatch, Kingsley pointed at this. After scratching off his name, although Tonks thought this was a stupid request, Remus had handed it over without question. Kingsley used it for disguises.
Kingsley sat on a bench and resumed teaching his daughter how to tie her trainers. The boys hadn't arrived yet. He parked Rachelle next to him and went with the tried and true bunny analogy, seeing as she liked those so much. Patient, he was better at this than Patti. Whenever Rachelle got frustrated or teary, they walked around the train station for a while. He'd show her with one trainer and hastily untie the other one.
"No, no, darling. Rachelle?" Kingsley made her look at him. "Remember when Mama taught you French and English together? I don't know French."
"You don't?" Her eyes, Patti's eyes, got as big as saucers.
"Can't speak it to save my life, but you can because you're clever," he said, kneeling on the ground. He watched her, grinning when her tongue poked out the side of her mouth. "Now, bunny ears, bunny ears, jump through the hole."
She finally managed it after three more tries. When Kingsley asked her to do a double knot, she did that sloppily, too. Kingsley fought the urge to fix it for her. By that time, Ron had showed up with Harry and Neville. Neville, who'd grown quite attached to Rachelle, picked her up and tossed her in the air, his usual way of saying good morning.
"What're we doing today?" asked Ron enthusiastically.
"It's Saturday." Kingsley sipped his fancy coffee and opened a copy of the Quibbler. A large yellow umbrella lay beside him because it threatened to rain. "We are people watching."
Ron groaned and slumped onto the bench opposite him. Neville, placing Rachelle in his lap and blowing into her ear, sat beside him. Harry, standing the umbrella upright, took the spot next to Kingsley. A quiet man until he got pushed to the brink, Kingsley wondered if he ought to tell Ron to run home to the Burrow.
They were getting paid for this training. In his day, like every other Auror he knew, no fledgling, an Auror in training left the Ministry in their first year. They, like the lawyers in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, kept their noses in the law books and studied practical theory until the books beat them soundly round their heads.
"Ron," he said, finishing his coffee and dropping it into a nearby bin before taking one out of Harry's cardboard carrier with thanks. "I have a family, and I can think of a thousand other things I'd rather be doing. But I am trying to help you."
Ron grumbled and took his anger out on a pastry. Neville played with Rachelle's hair. Kingsley had heard from Professor McGonagall that Neville had once been a fat boy, though he did not see it. Kingsley knew they could use Polyjuice Potion, yet this wasn't the same thing as hiding in plain sight. Kingsley wore a cheap suit for the occasion because the attire helped him get into character. Rachelle wore the dress with the purple flowers on it. Really, Kingsley wanted her to blend in and fade into the background.
He nodded at a man pulling a trolley. "What do you see?"
"We're in a train station," said Ron dully.
"Yes, but what do you see?" Kingsley stopped himself from pointing out that Ron had merely pointed out their location. As they had all traveled here to head of to Hogwarts for school, this did them little good.
"That man just picked his nose," said Ron, actually pointing at an old man with an ear trumpet.
Kingsley took this as something. A few minutes later, he excused himself to use the loo. It was nearly nine o'clock. He left the paper open to the crossword. He'd trained Aurors, lots of them. Nymphadora Tonks, briefly, before she got snatched away by Mad-Eye Moody, got assigned to him for a day. Mad-Eye had liked playing his seniority card. Kingsley had never understood how to put it into play. Kingsley decided Ron was hot-headed, and this would be a challenge because he was not.
Aurors got reinstated at a slow rate, though they were getting there. Kaspar had dismissed two without cause. Kingsley, who hadn't seen this before, held his tongue when Kaspar pointed it out in the Diggory Doctrine. Eldritch Diggory, a previous Minister for Magic, had established the Auror Department, and most authorities, amendments notwithstanding, told the dead man's word as law. Kingsley gave free reign to Kaspar, which made him department head. Perhaps Kaspar needed to deal with Weasley.
Kingsley tabled this for the moment. Ronald Weasley was Harry Potter's best mate, and he didn't want a domino effect and have all his work come crashing down on him. If they walked out on him, he'd have to pull out the legal pad and suffer Kaspar's wrath. He went back into the train station as it started drizzling outside. The boys were all huddled around an old woman trying desperately to find her black kitten. Ron found it latched to a suitcase for dear life, and they returned to their benches.
Kingsley almost sat down. He gave the place a once over. Whilst he was usual the calm in the storm, he couldn't disguise the sudden panic leaking into his tone. She was gone! "Where's Rachelle?"
None of them said anything. Kingsley knelt on the floor and started crawling around, calling her name. "Rachelle? Rachelle!"
Harry and Ron started asking passerby if they'd seen a little girl. Kingsley didn't listen to how they'd described her, but he was glad they put out the feelers because he lost patience with every passing moment. After five minutes, he came back to the bench and noticed Neville hadn't moved. He sat there clutching Rachelle's pink school bag. Panicked, Kingsley grabbed him by the front of the robes and lifted him forcibly off the ground.
"Where is my daughter? Where is Rachelle?" he demanded.
"Hey, hey," said Harry cooly, stepping in between them. He kept his eyes on a frightened Neville. Neville's face turned a deep red and then drained of all color. Harry situated himself squarely between them, pointing his wand at Kingsley's chest. Kingsley eyed it warily. Although emotion leaked through his words, Harry spoke quite rationally. "Put him down, Minister."
Apologizing profusely, Kingsley let go of Neville and glanced up at the skies. The rain was really coming down now. Harry forced the umbrella into Kingsley's hand, and Ron, although he said this would do no good, alerted the Muggle authorities. The place kept running as normal, and they searched to it for an hour. Other than the bag, they found no trace of her.
"She's gone." Kingsley, still holding the closed umbrella, sank back onto the bench. They released a child abduction alert, although had this been anyone else's child, Kingsley would've said this got released prematurely.
"Should we alert our authorities?" asked Ron.
"No," said Kingsley tonelessly. When both Ron and Harry disagreed, he held up a hand, fighting to keep calm. "I need a minute. Just give me a minute."
He slipped behind a glass partition and slid the door closed. Forty-eight hours. That was how long this took; these cases usually ended really quickly. As he was a Dark Wizard Catcher, Kingsley had handled a handful of them. He'd found a girl once, but she'd been bitten by a werewolf and had succumbed to her injuries. Kingsley had held the dying girl in his arms until she'd taken her last breath. He'd lied to her when he told her it was going to be all right as she bled to death.
Kingsley threw up on the floor. When the door slid open, Patti walked inside, flanked by Harry and Ron. Neville brought up the rear. Patti had been off at a press conference. She hugged herself, shaking her head as Ron reeled off the facts. Then he asked about releasing a child alert, she nodded, pale and numb. Ron left, clapping her on the shoulder, and Patti stepped over the pool of sick.
"Where is she?" She kept her eyes on Kingsley. He had nothing to give her. "Kingsley, this happens all the time! You know this. She's mine."
"I know." He didn't know what else to say. She slapped him. Kingsley didn't flinch and he stared back at her.
"When did this happen?" Her eyes darted between Harry and Neville. Neville cleaned the sick with a casual wave of his wand. Patti sat down and crossed her legs, impatient and furious.
"I don't know exactly." Harry spoke up first, leaning against the wall.
"You don't know? That's … that's unacceptable. You want to be an Auror, Mr. Potter? Your name will only get you so far. Same goes for you, Mr. Longbottom. Do you realize who you're talking to?" Patti stopped in front of Harry.
"Yes, ma'am," he said, his voice caught in his throat.
"Patti." Kingsley marched her out of the private partition and shared the large umbrella with her. "You are frightening them. These boys … they are doing the best they can."
"It's not good enough," she hissed. "I want Kaspar. Now!"
"He's on his way," said Kingsley, guessing that they had sent both her and their department head an owl.
When she glared at him, her jaw set, he went to send another. This was completely his fault. After he sent it off, borrowing an owl from a traveler, someone who studied birds, he went back to his wife. He found her laughing and crying hysterically, and he couldn't blame Harry and Neville for hiding. He rapped his knuckles on the glass, and they came out. Kingsley knelt on the floor and questioned her patiently.
Kaspar arrived on the scene resembling a drowned rat. His ponytail clung to the back of his neck.
"What's wrong?" Kingsley asked this more than once.
Patti went into this story about how she'd prepared this home cooked meal and rearranged her Saturday timetable. Kingsley thanked her. She'd mentioned the other day she had news, and he'd blown her off, absorbed in budget cut proposals. He had a lot on his plate, and he rarely did this move, but it happened too frequently these days.
When Kingsley asked if this was about redecorating the sitting room, she hissed through gritted teeth, making sure he caught every word. "I am pregnant, you blind moron."
"Oh." Kingsley's face fell.
"Oh? Oh? You said that last time, too." Patti dropped the subject when Kaspar cleared his throat loudly. She turned to face him.
"Charge is Rachelle Delta Shacklebolt, aged four. She has a birth mark behind her left ear?" Kaspar turned to Kingsley for confirmation. He said yes. Kaspar continued, reading off the alert. "Is she a citizen here?"
"No. I mean, I have dual-citizenship, but she was born in New York." Patti fished a copy of the birth certificate out of her large handbag and handled it over. She glanced at all of them in turn. Harry decided to study his trainers. "Does that matter?"
"No." Kaspar took the birth certificate and added it to the file. He matched only Kingsley in his organization skills. He placed his hand on Patti's shoulder. "Is there anything else you need to tell me?"
"She speaks French," Kingsley offered, fishing, "and she's afraid of the dark."
"Oh, God." Patti took quick, swallow breaths. Before she could walk away, Kaspar draped his traveling cloak over the wet bench and forced her to sit down beside him.
"Patti, I've got this handled. You hear me?" Kaspar waved his wand and caught a goblet. He gave her a Calming Draught. He snapped his fingers at Harry and Neville and asked for an interpreter. He waited the Floo Network grounded and International Customs searched. Patti immediately offered herself, but he refused. When they turned to leave, he stopped Harry. "Potter, I want transcripts of the Death Eater trials in my office in thirty minutes, please, and I want Gawain Robards on this one. You're taking lead."
"Me?" Harry did a double take.
"He's a kid, Kaspar, a fledgling," said Patti.
"You're the mother, not the officer here, Patti," said Kaspar, and Kingsley was astounded he didn't pull rank here. He silenced her with a look and turned back to Harry. "You got this?"
"Yeah, yeah," said Harry, sounding like he didn't have this at all.
He took the folder Kaspar offered him, cast the Germinio Charm, handed over a copy and bowed awkwardly at Kingsley and Patti before he and Neville left King's Cross. Kaspar sat with Patti until she told him she was all right. Kingsley knew she'd lied straight through her teeth. As Kaspar had effectively told her to stand down, Kingsley followed the same orders. Kaspar had offered to walk them home. When they arrived at the flat, Kingsley said thank you, keeping it short and sweet. There was a faint pop as Kaspar Disapparated, and Patti broke down in Kingsley's arms the moment he locked the door with the magical deadbolt.