Rose walked into the picturesque village, greeting villagers as she passed. The lime plaster cottages reflected the afternoon sunlight. Daffodils were blooming in the churchyard and all seemed light and bright. The only thing marring her buoyant mood was her crush on her husband. He doesn't look like Scorpius, and he doesn't act like Scorpius: he's Jai Pritchard, a demi-god sent from Bollywood to wreak havoc amongst the muggles, thought Rose. She was reassuring herself that crushes are natural and pass with time when she walked into the village hall early for the Women's Institute meeting. Rose walked to the front of the room, and there on the floor, lay the dead body of a primly dressed pensioner. Her face had frozen in a strange grimace, a mixture of amusement and horror. Rose recognized the effects of the killing curse immediately from her training. Rose pulled a two pound coin out of her own pocket, pressed the center and whispered into it, "Diggle found dead. AK used by unknown assailant." As Sophie Pritchard she pulled out her mobile and called 999. "Send an ambulance to the village hall in Ottery Norton. A woman has collapsed, I think that she might be dead. Please hurry."
Two Weeks Earlier
Rose Weasley sat in a restaurant in London having dinner with her Hogwarts friends.
"Rose, this is how people are meeting nowadays. No one has time for sitting at a bar and waiting to catch someone's eye," said Isis Goldstein.
"Catch someone's eye my ass, I know practically all of wizarding Britain. I can't swing a dead kneazle in Diagon Alley without hitting two people I know and three that I'm related to. Do you suggest I start looking for men in other countries? Wait 'til the Prophet grabs hold of that one—"Rosie Weds Owl-Order Groom."
"Leave kneazles out of this, they're really lovely creatures. The problem isn't that you know too few people, the problem is that when you know so many people, you aren't accessible to meet new ones," said Pomona Stebbins.
"There is nothing wrong with my aura!"
"Of course not, Pomona wasn't talking about cleansing your aura—that's so last year. What she means to say is that Pamela Davies met Cuthbert Burby through the Matching Hat not six months ago and now they're engaged!" said Gwenog MacFusty.
Rose groaned. She had heard plenty of stories about how a friend of a friend met her spouse through the Matching Hat. And what the hell kind of name is Cuthbert Burby?
"I socialize plenty, I have a very full social calendar," said Rose.
"Half of the events on your calendar are Weasley family events and the other half are Ministry functions. You aren't going to meet someone by attending Ministry functions as a security officer. Guffy Cresswell and Oakby Ollerton were married two years to the day after The Hat matched them. Rose, if you ever expect to meet a man you aren't related to by blood or marriage, you have to start looking differently," said Isis.
Rose's friends had a point. For all the socializing Rose did, the number of new and unattached men she met annually was statistically comparable to the number she might meet whilst living in a convent. She was even related, distantly, to most of her friends. Maybe this hat business was the answer. She didn't expect to meet her soul mate, but having a few new friends could open up new avenues. At the very least the Hat could give her a reprieve from awkward blind dates disguised as family dinners with chaps some aunt or other had decided, "would be just perfect for Rosie" but that in reality have been hit by a few too many bludgers.
"Alright, fine, where does one find this blas-blessed Hat?" Rose was envisioning having to try on the Sorting Hat in some elderly woman's cottage that was more nauseatingly decorated than Madame Puddifoot's at Valentine's Day.
"That's what makes the whole thing perfect, you don't have to go anywhere!" Worse! thought Rose, now envisioning an elderly woman cum Puddifoot-esque Valentine carrying an oversized hat box as she hobbled into Rose's office. The whole blessed office would know. By lunch the Ministry rumor mill would have it and the Prophet could do a two-part special on Rose's entire romantic past for the evening edition.
Rose heard the end of Gwenog's reply, "Pamela said that was it, just fill out the form, owl it back, and wait for potential matches to just fall into your lap."
"Wait, so there's no hat?" asked Rose. Isis rolled her eyes at Rose's lack of attention.
"No hat Rose. Did you think you'd be trying on the Sorting Hat again? Get with it. The Matching Hat is online—you know, computers. There's a parchment interface for the truly," Isis made air quotes with her hands here, flinging crumbs, "traditional" philistines that are completely out of touch with the modern era—"
"Hey, I happen to think that getting mail by owl is romantic!"
"It is, but really, when it comes down to it, you've got a nippy pet that's always gone and a pile of bird droppings. Unless you've a house elf as well, why bother?" said Pomona.
"Just because your workplace has embraced the muggle revolution doesn't mean that ours have. I doubt that the Ministry will ever use computers. Besides, there's enough magic in that building to short circuit –something big. Just send me the link and I'll sign up. What's the worst that could happen, right?"
A week later, she received a stack of profiles of wizards that might match up. Immediately she recognized a relative, a former co-worker, and an absolute git. And tragically that didn't describe the same person. Rose Diminuendo'd the profiles and shoved them into her purse. 'Well, those will show Isis this Hat business is useless.'
Rose met Isis for lunch at a café near St. Mungo's, or rather, Purge and Dowse, Ltd. Passing shoppers paid no attention to the two witches as they laughed over the stack of profiles of "suitable" wizards.
"Well, you got me into this mess, which one should I owl first?"
"I think wand&bone looks promising. It says he's a healer."
"If I wanted to find a healer and pop out ten babies, I'd ask Rabbi Levy to pick me out a nice Cohen boy. Your cousins are lovely, but I don't think I could handle a second extended family as large and intrusive as my own."
"You can say obnoxious, I don't mind. Merlin knows they are. When I get married, it'll be like in that old film, My Big Fat Greek Wedding—except kosher."
"I wish I had your certainty that I will get married. After these profiles, I think I'm even less likely to find someone."
"Let me take this stack home with me, see if any others stand out as possibles. But you should owl this wand&bone guy."
"Everyone exaggerates on these things. He's probably a mediwizard drop-out who lives in his mother's basement passing himself as a fully qualified Healer."
"Maybe, but it also says that his favorite philosopher is John Rawls. He can't be all bad."
"Fine, so Rawls is my weakness. I blame my mother."
"It says that he's looking for his Laura; awww, how sweet."
"Great, because I really want a sexless relationship with a dead poet. What's he going to do, read me poetry on courtly love at night before we go to bed?"
"Come on, at least it's a better line than 'looking for his Lizzie Bennet,' I mean yes, we love Jane, but at this point any man that claims knowledge of Pride and Prejudice either has a sister or saw the movie trailer and thought that it would go down well with witches. Hell, I bet this one's sister wrote his profile!"
"Let's owl her then. She sounds like fun."
"Rose, one little owl won't send you down the aisle. It's just a little flirting."
"Fine. But if he doesn't like animals, I'm pulling the plug."
"Pulling the what? Nevermind. Just write something," commanded Isis as she slid scented parchment to Rose.
"Scented parchment? Really?"
"I think it gives it a little something extra, don't you think?" Rose sniffed it. It matched her favorite perfume, a floral and fruit scent with a light woody base and a hint of musk. She had found it at a muggle shop last season.
"You just happened to have parchment scented with my perfume?"
"I bought you a box by post from Scrivenshaft's. The rest should be at your flat by now. I thought you could use some encouragement to write."
"You're the best! But what do I write?"
"Tell him that you noticed that he likes John Rawls and Petrarch. Ask if he likes animals, since he didn't mention pets. Four sentences tops. And write to the other guy too, you never know."
"Yeah, his sister and I could get on like fiendfyre."
…
Rose was glad to return to her desk when she noticed the paper airplane waiting for her. Perhaps Uncle Harry had responded to her request to investigate a suspected rare plant smuggling ring in Devon.
Rose,
Meeting to discuss your report on the Devon smuggling ring at 2pm, small briefing room.
Harry
The Department of Magical Law Enforcement and the Auror Office expanded greatly in the post-war period. Shacklebolt's recruitment of survivors of the Battle of Hogwarts for Auror training began the expansion of active Aurors initially.
The official headquarters for the Aurors remained inside of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement offices at the Ministry. Auror investigations were often undercover operations. Despite the numerous battles within the Ministry building during the last war, it remained too public and accessible. Therefore a second location was necessary to maintain secure offices at Owlpen Grange. A third location in Knockturn Alley was used to meet with Aurors during undercover operations. Formerly the storefront for Borgin and Burkes, the store continued to maintain its trade in Dark artifacts as a cover, but the back rooms were extended and expanded to include briefing rooms and a bunk room. A pair of vanishing cabinets linked the back rooms of the storefront to the Grange.
Rose made a series of apparitions before finally appariting to the secure offices housed in a grand estate in Wiltshire. She made her way to the small briefing room and pulled out her notes to review her case so far. It had been a bit of luck really that she happened to read about the Ottery Norton Flower Show organized by the Women's Institute. Normally a muggle horticultural show wouldn't attract her attention, but a prize-winning cactus that looked suspiciously like Neville's treasured Mimbulus mimbletonia in full color on the cover of WI Life did.When she asked Neville to help her identify the other plants in the photograph accompanying the article in the magazine, Neville spotted a rare Platanthera maritima. P. maritima and M. mimbletonia are both regulated and certainly wouldn't be found in a normal muggle horticulture show. Rose did some background digging and suspected a smuggling ring.
Harry greeted Rose warmly before taking his seat. Others filled the room gradually.
"Well Rose, it seems everyone has arrived. Please begin your briefing," said Harry.
"Thank you, Commissioner. As you likely already know, I've discovered a plant smuggling ring in Devon that appears to involve wizards and muggles. A Squib called Mildred Diggle is the key point of contact between the smuggling ring and the muggle purchasers. While a case without gross bodily harm or death that included the involvement of muggles would normally be referred to the Muggle-Worthy Excuse Committee, the rarity of the smuggled plants suggest a larger criminal organization. The willful disregard for the International Secrecy Act and the intentional endangerment of muggles via exposure to magical plants indicate the unmistakable characteristics of muggle-baiting."
"Miss Weasley, how do you suggest we proceed, if we do not refer this matter to the MWEC?" asked Kirke.
"My confidential informant was unable to give names of the wizards involved. I propose an undercover investigation of Mildred Diggle to infiltrate the smuggling ring. Mrs. Diggle is a retired schoolteacher and amateur horticulturalist. By moving into her village and posing as a fellow horticulture enthusiast, I believe I will be able to make contact with the smuggling ring," replied Rose.
"So, you'll move into Ottery Norton and do some coat-trailing with the villagers, shouldn't take long. Malfoy, are you prepared to go back under?" asked Proudfoot.
"Certainly, sir. It will be invaluable to have Miss Weasley's herbological knowledge on hand to sell our legend. I couldn't tell a cutting of Devil's Snare from a Flitterbloom if my life depended on it," replied Scorpius Malfoy. He waited for the polite tittering to finish before he continued, "I think that her extensive herbological knowledge should compensate sufficiently for my lack of enthusiasm for dirigible plums."
"Excellent. Entwhistle, I assume your lamplighters are available?" asked Harry.
"Yes Commissioner, and I can have a team of pavement artists available if needed. Miss Weasley, how did Diggle's security category come up?" asked Malala Entwhistle
"She's had little involvement in the wizarding world since she came of age. The Competition have her rated as Persil."
"Very well. See the shoemakers about your legend and the housekeepers regarding accounts before you leave today. Meeting adjourned," said Harry. Rose remained behind to talk with Malfoy.
"The Inquisitors finished with you then Malfoy?" asked Rose.
"Hmm, inquisitors, yes, through chaps, aren't they?" replied Scorpius vaguely as if they were discussing afternoon tea instead of his three-month long debrief at the Grange following coming in from the cold.
"Was Selwyn quizmaster? I should think they'd have chosen Selwyn." Scorpius flattened his expression before replying.
"Yes, Selwyn doesn't hold back, knows his job."
"Have you any additional insights into the case?" asked Rose.
"Surely the Senior Wrangler has no need of my analysis." Rose rolled her eyes. "But what about meeting your confidential informant?" Rose stiffened and then relaxed just enough for Malfoy to read her coming lie. She hadn't expected anyone to request a meeting. Not for the whole of Gringott's would Rose confess to Malfoy that the confidential informant in her first major case was her gran's WI newsletter.
"My agent. Diggle was out of his sphere really, but he happened across this information and passed it along. If he comes across additional information, there are protocols in place that the lamplighters know. There is no need to expose my agent to satisfy your curiosity," replied Rose.
"We all need our little secrets, don't we, Rosie," said Scorpius. "Nevermind that, let's see the housekeepers about the dosh."
…
Three days later Rose drove the latest Chelsea tractor, a model of electric Land Rover, through Ottery Norton. Her recognizable Weasley red hair was blonde and her eyebrows dark. She had changed her nose and her eye color for good measure. For the first year after graduating Hogwarts her picture and her status as an auror in training were published frequently. The press grew bored of her as she frequently worked protection details at Ministry events rather than make headlines closing big cases. Rose hoped that would change soon; not the celebrity but definitely making the big cases. Or any cases, at all.
She met the estate agent outside of the dilapidated farmhouse and acted the part of the young urban professional moving to the country. She put an impossibly cheerful face on as she inquired about installing internet service for her husband. She raved to the bored estate agent about starting a family and the 'fresh air' and repeated to herself that her embarrassingly dull legend would payoff in the end. In the old outbuildings she found a broken wheelbarrow and transfigured it into an older model bike and cycled a mile or so into the village for her debut performance as Sophie Pritchard.
Rose leaned the bicycle against the lamppost outside the newsagents. She noticed a flyer indicating a meeting later that evening in the village hall to discuss preparations for the upcoming "Best Kept Village" competition. Perfect opening gambit, thought Rose.
Rose chatted with everyone during her errands to the grocer and newsagent, mentioning her and her husband's purchase of the old Blackamoor farm. She discussed the champion sheepdog handler the next village over and conservation schemes. She appeared interested in the latest anecdotal reports regarding Defra's twenty-five year bovine TB eradication program. After appearing to be supportive of the local blood thirst for badgers, Rose managed a getaway.
Rose returned to the farmhouse and heard noises inside. She grabbed the shotgun from above the door and shouted, "Show yourself! I am armed and calling the police!"
"Dear girl, you're a witch, why are you holding that firearmy?" asked a dark-haired tanned man she didn't recognize.
"My name is Sophie Pritchard and this is a shotgun, which at this range will blow a hole right through your chest. Who the bloody hell are you and what are you doing in my house!"
"Now Rose it isn't nice to greet your husband as just any 'hey you' off the street."
"Prove it. The tea at Pudifoot's is fine."
"Seriously?" asked the man with incredulity. Rose poked his chest with the shotgun. "Fine, but the Leaky Cauldron has the best pumpkin scones," recited the man stiffly. "Satisfied?"
"No. Where did we go on school trip first year?"
"Guedelon. Tsk, tsk, Rose, too easy of a question. Every Hogwarts firstie goes to Guedelon on school trip for Muggle Studies. Might think you were the one that was getting off easy. Who dared Patrick Finnegan to levitate the stones in the crane that caused the French Ministry Oblivators to have to oblivate the whole castle?"
"That would be you and my darling cousin Albus who were the cause of three years setback of building that castle," replied Rose. "Well, your human transfiguration certainly has improved since training. Transfiguring skin color has always eluded me, maybe my wand movement is off…the follow-through is key," said Rose while practicing the wand movement with the shotgun.
"Rose, why don't we make dinner and you can tell your husband all about your first day in our new home," said Scorpius as he lowered the shotgun barrel away from himself and guided Rose into the kitchen.
"Well, get the groceries out of my bike basket then."
Rose briefed Scorpius on village issues and the people that she had met that day. Scorpius agreed that working in the Best Kept Village competition would be good for inconspicuously interviewing villagers and lurking about in churchyards while spying on people. Luckily Rose could cook without magic and talk at the same time. Scorpius sat at the table and watched as she cooked over the old Aga.
"I hear that you're supposed to turn these things off once May rolls around, but I've no clue how to do that. Apparently one cooks on a barbecue outside for everything May to September. I wonder if that includes the tea kettle."
"We'll buy an eckeltric kettle. Does the village have a cricket team?"
"You play cricket?"
"I can learn. I've seen muggles play it, it can't be too hard."
"There are like a million rules in cricket."
"I'll read the handbook."
…
Two of the wizarding world's most recognizable twenty-somethings outside of professional quidditch had completely disappeared into their work. Sophie and Jai Pritchard arrived a few minutes early to the preparation meeting for the best kept village competition. At the doorway to the old hall they were met by a portly man with a lazy eye.
"Munro Dudgeon. You've bought old Blackamoor Farm, haven't you."
"Yes. Jai Pritchard. And this is my gorgeous wife, Sophie."
"Have you considered replacing the roof on the farmhouse? Could do with a bit of work, I'd say. Blackamoor would never do it. Leaks buckets in winter, so says my wife, but Blackamoor would never do it. Never met a man who could hang on to a pound longer than he. Ah, well, shan't speak ill of the dead, shall we? I'll send young Tom Andrews round your part next week to see about that roof."
Once past Dudgeon and inside, a middle-aged couple approached them.
"Susan and Peter Wickens, so you've come about helping around the village for the competition, then?"
"Yes, we've just moved to the village—the old Blackamoor Farm."
"Yes, yes, Blackamoor, wretched roof, what?" replied Peter Wickens.
"I'm sure they've made plans to replace that roof straight away. They'll being having Bill Perowne round to do it soon, won't you?" said Susan Wickens.
"Yes, well, we had heard that Tom Andrews was well thought of," said Jai.
"Young Tom's good enough, but Bill Perowne is very reliable, always rings you back," said Peter.
"I say, the village green seems large enough for cricket. There isn't a village team, by any chance, is there?" asked Jai.
"Come, I'll introduce you to Soole."
"While the men are talking cricket, perhaps we could meet other ladies from the village, hmm?" asked Susan as she grabbed Rose by the elbow and steered her into a gaggle of middle-aged women. Rose concealed her natural horror with enthusiasm,
"The estate agent mentioned the local WI was very active."
"Then you must meet Mildred. Mildred is a fabulous gardener and president of the WI. Mildred, this is Sophie Pritchard. She's interested in jam and Jerusalem. She and her husband've just bought old Blackamoor farm," said Susan.
"Blackamoor farm, yes. Awful roof, the hearth smokes, and the attics are atrocious. Mrs. Maybrick did say it sold to some Londoners with more money than sense. Jam and Jerusalem, you said Sue, yes, well, come along to next meeting. Tanith Barton will be discussing planting schemes for window boxes, Thursday at 4pm. The book club is reading A Force to be Reckoned With by Jane Robinson. Book club meets at the Cat and Custard every other Monday. Right, well, ladies, this meeting certainly won't start itself. Attention, please. If you are here for preparations for the best kept village competition, sit yourself down. Vicar, if you please…" said Mildred Diggle.
Sophie and Jai tried their best to be attentive, however the realities of planning to pick up litter in a lay-by are pointless and boring. They nudged each other awake when the other nodded off.
"Our stream clean-up will be on the last weekend of April. Hopefully it won't be chucking it down like last year. Also, the churchyard benches need mending, if I could have a few volunteers," said Rev. Venables-Cox. Sophie elbowed Jai as he was sleeping, causing him to jump to his feet. "Wonderful! It is heartening to see young people take an interest in rural life." Sophie pulled her husband back down into his folding chair.
"Darling, what did you just volunteer me to do?" whispered Jai as he stretched his arm and draped it across Sophie's shoulder. She settled comfortably into the crook of his shoulder.
"You volunteered yourself for fixing a couple of benches in the churchyard. I'm sure you can manage," replied Sophie quietly. Jai rested his hand on her thigh and distracted himself from the remainder of the meeting by tracing doodles on her bare leg. Sophie tried the best she could to remain unaffected by the hand that crept higher and higher.
The meeting adjourned and Jai slide his hand to rest at the small of Sophie's back as he guided her through the milling villagers as they made their goodbyes and left. To their neighbors the Pritchards were a very happily married couple whom neighbors were glad had bought the Blackamoor farm. They chatted about village nonsense but remained an intimate couple as they walked home in the darkness.
At the farmhouse Sophie turned to Jai and said, "Scorpius, you can stop touching me now. We're inside and no one is looking."
"Sweetheart, playing a part during an undercover operation requires absolute commitment. I am your husband. You are my wife. Therefore, we are physically intimate with each other." He approached Rose, backing her against the kitchen table. He stopped with one leg between her legs, just barely touching her. "We have to demonstrate that we know every inch of each other's body." He leaned in to kiss her but stopped and whispered, "I need to know your reaction to a caress of your cheek, your back, your thigh," touching each place lightly and briefly. "I'm method, baby." He backed away, smirked, and went upstairs. Rose closed her eyes and tried to calm her breathing.
"Don't call me baby!" she shouted after him.