Story: The Uprising

Summary: All is seemingly well in Wizarding Britain as the last aftershocks of the War against the Dark Lord fade away, but a series of murders lead ace Auror Daphne Greengrass to a threat that may throw her world yet again into imbalance.

Chapter 2: The Curious Case of Count Conner

It had taken several hours and a bottle of extra-strong Butterbeer for Daphne to come to terms with what had happened in Madam Bones' office. Ideally, on a day like this, she would have liked nothing more than privacy and some time to dwell on events, but luck wasn't on her side. She was scheduled to have lunch with her best friend that day - her best friend who would never forgive her if she found out that Daphne had kept something this big secret from her.

After all, what did it matter? Potter was just another partner, right? Maybe this one would get smashed under a giant's club too. A meaner part of Daphne couldn't help but feel perked up at the prospect.

"No way," shrieked Tracey Davis. "You mean THE Harry Potter?" Daphne had just finished giving her her news.

"Yes," said Daphne glumly. "I still have to meet him, but Madam Bones was very insistent that I be the one to show him the ropes." She threw up her hands in frustration. "I have better things to be doing with my time than showing him around. The Conner case has the Ministry in an uproar ..."

"What's Bones playing at?" interrupted Tracey. She had little interest in Daphne's job. Like most Purebloods, she didn't think a self-respecting Pureblood woman had any business being in the Auror corps. "Did she say whether Potter knows about this arrangement?"

Daphne nodded. "She said he seemed quite keen on it, especially once she told him about the Lovegood case."

"Potter keen on partnering with a Slytherin?" Tracey snorted. "I find that hard to believe."

"Who knows?" Daphne shrugged. "Maybe he grew up a bit. No one has seen him for three years."

She distanced herself from the conversation after that. Tracey launched into a tirade of thoughts and musings about what the return of Harry Potter meant for Wizarding Britain, but Daphne had perfected faking attention into an art form. She ooh'd and hmm'd and mumbled incoherently at all the right times, but in her mind she was wondering if she was right, and if Potter had grown up. Merlin, she hoped he hadn't agreed to be her partner out of some childish notion of revenge against Draco ...

Lunch was soon over, and when she parted ways with Tracey her mind was still on Potter, until -

"Oomph, watch it!" she cried.

An Auror, perhaps a new trainee, had knocked her flat on the ground. She pulled herself up to give him the yelling of a lifetime, except that she found herself staring a familiar, green-eyed face. He looked different from when he had left. The war had aged him - it had aged them all, but him most of all. But now somehow, he seemed to be ... lighter. More relaxed, perhaps, than he had ever been at Hogwarts, like there was a weight off his shoulders. The pain in his eyes that had become permanent towards their sixth year was either gone, or masked really well. He had a slight tan, and his rugged looks would still have set any witch's heart aflame.

Not Daphne's though. She was determined to give him a piece of her mind, and she would have too, except that again - yet again, she found herself tongue-tied and at a loss for words.

"Potter," she managed at last, with a bit of glower in her voice, she hoped.

"Greengrass," he acknowledged. They stared at each other for a few more moments, until he said, "Madam Bones said to report to you."

That snapped her out of her daze.

"Yes," she said, snapping to attention. "Have you received the file for our first case?"

"Case? I was under the impression that today was orientation."

Daphne grinned at him snarkily. This was her element. "Oh, no. If you can skip Auror training, you can certainly skip orientation, don't you think?" Without waiting for a reply, she brushed past him. "Go get your cloak, we're leaving now."

He ran to fetch his cloak like a Muggle. Daphne snorted at him - he could have just summoned it. She continued to stride purposefully down the hall and towards the lift. Just as she reached it, Potter caught up to her, panting slightly from the exertion. She wondered at that for a moment - was he so unfit physically that he was panting already?

They stepped into the lift, and about a half dozen of the Ministry's infernal airplane memo's followed her. Sometimes, when she was alone in the lift, she delighted in setting one or two of them on fire, and she wondered how Potter would react if she did that now.

"Count Conner was found incapacitated on his bed by his housekeeper at 8AM today," she lectured, certain that he had not had the time to look over the case file. "The Conners are a noble family, but not ancient. They have had wizarding ancestry for about five generations, and are best known for their ownership for what is claimed to be the scabbard of King Arthur's sword, Excalibur.

"The scabbard was in Count Conner's study at the time of the attack, but it was left untouched. Either the attacker wasn't after the scabbard or they didn't know where to find it."

"Do we have any clues as to the identity of the thief?" asked Potter. The lift shuddered to a halt, and they stepped out into the Ministry Atrium. Potter, she noticed, had pulled up his hood. Not that she blamed him - coming back from a three-year hiatus, there was little doubt he would be mobbed the moment he was noticed in public.

"None," she answered. "Conner was a harmless man. He's relatively young for a Count - 43 - but then we have a lot of young Lords these days. His father died in the war, fighting on your side. He was an auxiliary member of the Order of the Phoenix."

She shot him a sidelong glance, but he didn't seem to react, so she continued, "The current Count took over the House a few months after the war ended. The House Conner has a seat in the Wizengamot and has traditionally voted for the Liberal agenda - not surprising, considering they only have five generations of magical blood. However, their Countship come from a Muggle ancestor. The castle is largely muggle with some rudimentary wards surrounding it. The House Conner routinely hired Muggleborns and Squibs to take care of its estate - but it's said that with the new Count, staff turnover increased."

"So you think it might be a disgruntled staff member?" asked Potter.

She glared at him.

"I do not think anything, Potter," she snorted. They had reached a fireplace. She grabbed a fistful of floo powder. "We do not go into a case thinking anything. We examine the crime scene, gather evidence, and draw conclusions. Don't embarrass me by being an amateur. Castle Conner."

A whirl of green flame wrapped around her and she tucked her elbows in as she went spinning through the floo system. Her exit was well-practiced and she barely missed a step as she stepped out of the fireplace and continued walking. Behind her, the fireplace spat Potter out in a heap. He groaned and uttered some complaint about the floo, and she rolled her eyes. Such a disgrace - why didn't he just learn to step out of it properly?

She shrugged and looked around interestedly. There were in a large hall - possibly the main hall of the castle. The fireplace they had just come out of was the main fixture of the hall. Large pennants with a grey eagle on them hung from the high ceiling - that must have been the Conner Coat of Arms. The hall was spotless - there wasn't a speck of dust on the towering walls of grey stone, nor was there a single cobweb in any corner. Unlike old halls in such old castles, there was no cold, biting draft nipping around. Instead, the temperature was just north of comfortable, and Daphne knew this instantly to be the work of magic.

She closed her eyes and let tendrils of her magic spread out of her body. Sure enough, she recognized the self-cleaning enchantments on the walls, and the wards on the castle that regulated temperature. She explored further, and then suddenly her magic encountered an unexpectedly, large source of power behind her. She whipped out her wand and whirled around to face it and saw - Potter.

Of course. The man had defeated a Dark Lord. He had to be powerful. He looked bemused, and she shook her head. Don't be an amateur, she scolded herself. Finding herself tongue-tied again, she turned around and stalked out of the hall, feeling slightly irritated at Potter's footsteps behind her.

As she exited the hall and entered a long passageway, a frantic looking witch rushed at her.

"Madam Auror!" she cried. Daphne paused momentarily to study the witch. She knew the woman was a witch because of the wand sticking out of her back pocket, but otherwise the woman was dressed almost completely as a Muggle. "Madam Auror!" she cried again. "I'm glad the Ministry has finally decided to send someone!"

"I was under the impression that a team of Aurors has been here to gather evidence," said Daphne coolly. The witch stopped in her tracks.

"Oh, yes, yes," she said distractedly. "They refused to speak to us at all though. They just kicked us out to do their work, and we're all in quite a fit ..."

"And that's why I'm here," interrupted Daphne smoothly. "To ask questions, and give answers where we can. Now, can take us to the Master Bedroom where Count Conner was discovered this morning?"

Behind her, Potter cleared his throat.

"May we have a name, please?" he asked politely. The witch started. She didn't seem to have noticed Harry until now.

"Oh umm ... certainly. My name is ... oh my," she exclaimed, peering closely at Potter. He shifted uncomfortably. "Harry Potter! Oh my, Harry Potter, back in England! This changes everything! My name is Deborah Klein, Mr Potter."

"Pleased to meet you, Ms Klein," murmured Potter. Daphne looked at the witch in distaste. The woman was obviously Muggleborn, considering her clothes and the disrespectful way in which she was stashing her wand. On top of that she didn't seem to have her wits about her at all.

"The Master Bedroom, Ms Klein," said Daphne, with forced politeness.

As if to prove her right, the witch started again, and declared, "Oh my! I just remembered, I have to be somewhere! This ... umm ... this changes everything. Just follow this hallway to its end, Madam Auror. Take the staircase up, and the Master Bedroom will be on your right on the first floor. You can't miss it."

Deborah Klein turned around to flee, but in an instant, Daphne's wand was out, and she had cast a wordless Leg Locker on the witch.

"Ms Klein," she ground out forcefully. "I need you to show us the Master Bedroom." Given the frightened look she got in return, Daphne was surprised the witch didn't piss in her pants. Potter shot Daphne an odd look, but wisely decided not to say anything. Keeping her wand pointed at Klein, Daphne cancelled the Leg Locker. Klein - she was trembling now - turned around and led them down the winding hallway.

The hallway, like the Hall they had entered in, was spotless and perfectly temperature controlled. Portraits broke the monotony of the the endless grey walls, and every now and then, a tapestry of the family seal of a grey eagle would appear, draped across the wall. The portraits were all muggle, and most of them seemed to have a heavy, square jaw - a feature of the Conner family, it seemed.

Klein, mumbling fervently to herself, walked rapidly and nervously. Daphne was too well-bred to show any discomfort, but Potter was breathing heavily. She really needed to get him in shape.

They went up the stairwell Klein had mentioned and on the first floor landing, a large gilded door loomed up in front of them. An oppressive desire to turn away hit them. Daphne paused and sent the feelers of her magic out again. As expected, the Ministry team that preceded them had set up a light ward to dissuade anyone from entering. It wasn't a difficult ward to take down, but it was enough to keep over-curious friends and family from disturbing a crime scene.

Daphne waved her wand and muttered a long incantation. The ward came down, and the desire to turn away lifted. Ignoring the squeak from Klein, she waved her wand to open the door and swept inside.

"Here, Madam Auror," said Klein. She gestured towards the large four poster bed that was pushed against a wall. "Here is where we found him."

They stepped gingerly towards the bed. A musty smell of decay hit Daphne's nose. She cast a few diagnostic spells on the bed, but nothing turned up. The bed was completely non-magical. She began casting diagnostic charms around the rest of the room.

"Who found the Count in the morning?" she asked as she cast her spells.

Klein shuddered. "I did, Madam Auror."

Daphne paused.

"You are the housekeeper?" she asked skeptically.

"Umm ... yes, Madam Auror," Klein looked nervous. Daphne shook her head and continued casting charms. The room was unremarkable. The only magical residue she could find was near the Count's bedside table. Everything else was distinctly non-magical. There were even a few Muggle appliances in a corner.

"Potter, take a look at those Muggle things - tell me if anything looks suspicious. Ms Klein, tell me how you found the Count."

"Oh, it was horrible, Madam," cried Klein, throwing her hands up. She took a few steps towards Daphne, forcing her to whirl around and point her wand at Klein again. Klein squawked and took a step back. "I was bringing his coffee to his bed in the morning, Madam. That's umm ... that's how he likes it, breakfast in bed. He's a hardworking man, Count Klein, and it's a luxury he allows himself, breakfast in bed."

"Continue, please," interrupted Daphne. Klein looked startled, as if she might have forgotten there was anyone else in the room.

"Why yes, umm ... I knocked, and he didn't answer, so I waited a five minutes. Ordinarily, the Count sometimes doesn't answer immediately, if he's had ... umm ... if he's had company the night before. It's understandable, of course. He's a young man, virile ..."

"Continue, please," interrupted Daphne again, unable to keep the harshness out of her voice.

"Of course, Madam Auror. So ordinarily, I knock again five or so minutes later and the Count directs me to come inside, but this time, he didn't answer, and I heard moaning. So I panicked and dropped his coffee on the carpet ..." she pointed to the stain they had observed earlier. "Such a mistake - it's a valuable carpet! It cost ..."

Daphne shot her a stern look. Klein re-oriented herself immediately.

"Umm ... so I walked up to the bed, and I found the Count moaning to himself. I asked him if he was all right, and he moaned and asked who I was!" she looked affronted. "Imagine, I've worked for the family for thirty years! And he asked me who I was!"

"Sounds like a memory charm," observed Potter.

Klein didn't seem to have heard.

"But that's not the biggest surprise. Do you know what I found that was absolutely wild?"

Demonstrating for the first time a sense of control over herself, she pulled herself up and looked intently at Daphne with a sudden clarity in her eyes. "I found, on his bedside table," she pointed at the table from which Daphne had gleaned a magical signature, "finely grained wooden dust!"

Daphne dashed past the woman towards the bedside table, with Potter close on her heels. There was nothing about that in the case report - the Ministry team must have missed it. She was about to begin casting spells at it, when Potter edged forward.

"Allow me," he murmured. He took out his wand and brought it close to the dust. As his wand drew closer, the dust seemed to light up, and almost a song seemed to emanate from it.

"That's right," crowed Klein. "His wand, reduced to dust!"

"Phoenix feather," whispered Potter to Daphne.

Daphne straightened and looked directly at Klein.

"Ms Klein," she said formally. "What can you tell us about the household?"

Almost immediately, Klein retreated into her nervous, neurotic self. "The household, Madam Auror? Of course, of course ... Count Conner was the Head of the household, and then the Housekeeper, myself, of course. And then umm ... we have Ms Keibler and Ms Turpin, the Count's new secretaries. Ms Roth, the cook - she has worked at the castle nearly as long as myself. And of course, the groundsmen ... but they all work outside. The Count hardly ever talks to them. A Mr Reynolds - he's been in the family since the Count was a babe - Mr Reynolds takes care of the grounds and the groundsmen."

"Any family?" asked Daphne. She knew all this information, of course, but she wanted to hear it form Klein.

Klein tittered nervously. "Well, the Count was unmarried. There are women who say ... who say he fathered their children, but the Count never acknowledged any of them. He is his father's only son ... the last of the Conner men. He has a sister, she's married into an offshoot of the Abbott family. Of course, she can't produce a Conner heir, which means an end to the line ..."

"Hang on," Potter interrupted. "Why does it mean an end to the line? The Count is alive."

Daphne rolled her eyes. She would have to remind him to stay silent until he was more experienced. The housekeeper blushed and stuttered.

"The Count was castrated," said Daphne. Potter winced and reached for his privates. Why did all men have that reaction? Turning to Klein, she continued, "Apologies, Mr Potter is still new to the job."

"If the Count has bastards, he can recognize a male one," said Potter. "I don't think this was a political attack."

Daphne glared at him, and he had the grace to look abashed.

"We'll discuss this at the Ministry, Potter," she said firmly. "Ms Klein, you said the secretaries - Ms Keibler and Ms Turpin were new. How long have they worked here?"

"Ms Turpin ... has been here a year now," stammered Klein. "She's been here longer than any other secretary. Ms Keibler has been here barely a month."

"Does the Count have enough work for two secretaries?" asked Daphne. Klein blushed and stammered and looked at Daphne with wide eyes. Daphne got the message. Potter, it seemed, did not. He looked at her in askance, but she silenced him with a look. "Can you tell us the blood status of the household? Barring the Count, of course."

The Housekeeper blinked rapidly. "Blood status ... of course, Madam Auror. We are all Muggleborns, Madam Auror, excepting Mr Reynolds - he is a squib," she said. Again, the mistiness in her eyes seemed to disappear for a moment and she drew herself up and looked challengingly at Daphne. "My own mother was a Muggleborn, so you might count me a half-blood, if you consider her a witch."

Daphne chose not to comment. "Thank you for your time, Ms Klein. I have one last question: Did the Count have any company last night?"

Klein blushed and stammered again. "I ... I'm not sure, Madam Auror. But, but ..." she nervously walked towards a bare portion of the wall besides the bedside table. Picking out a blemish in the wall, she tapped it with her wand. The wall slid down silently, revealing a passageway. Daphne raised an eyebrow, surprised that her diagnostic charms hadn't found that. Perhaps it was masked by the magical pulse coming from the remains of the Count's wand? "The passage ... leads to the employee quarters."

"Are Ms Turpin and Ms Keibler in their quarters?" asked Daphne. Klein nodded frantically. "Thank you. Please give us a moment."

She moved to a corner of the room, beckoning Potter to follow her, and cast a quick privacy ward. Klein edged towards the door, but a glare from Daphne stilled her.

"Try not to speculate in front of witnesses or suspects, Potter," she began. Potter held up his hands in apology. "Now tell me what you think."

"Klein wants us to think it's the secretaries," said Potter. Daphne was pleasantly surprised. She had expected that an amateur would jump at pinning the blame on the secretaries. "I want to suspect Klein, but she doesn't seem capable of pulling off anything so ... elaborate."

Daphne frowned. "It could be a clever act. In any case, the file on the case indicates that the Count's sister is a woman with little political ambition. The Abbott she married is the son of younger brother who was the son of a younger brother. From the reports, the Count has almost complete amnesia. The mind healers don't think they can recover anything, so I doubt Conner can go around legitimizing bastards. Now do you remember Lisa Turpin from school?"

Potter nodded. "Ravenclaw, right?"

"Yes. She was very good at Runes. The wand was destroyed by means of a temporal runic circle." He looked confused, so she clarified, "They sped up time inside the runic circle, and something - probably termites - ate the wand. The phoenix feather in the wand must have disintegrated too."

"Why would she go through all that effort? Why not just snap the wand?" asked Potter.

"I don't know," she answered. "Perhaps she used the Count's wand to perform the Memory Charm and wanted to destroy the evidence. Phoenix feather wands can be remarkably resilient."

"There's one more thing, Greengrass," he hesitated before continuing. "Klein is hiding something." She raised an eyebrow. "I can do passive leglimency. Nothing illegal," he said hastily. "I can pick up feelings and emotions and the like. Klein is definitely hiding something."

"I will keep that in mind," she said. "Now, I don't want you going in there thinking Lisa Turpin is the culprit. That attitude is dangerous and it makes you look for evidence to support your theory rather than find the truth. Our job is to find the truth.

"Now let's go find out who attacked Count Conner."

****** TU TU TU TU TU TU ******

AN: Thanks for reading. If you like what you've read so far, I encourage you to follow the story and drop me a review. If you don't like the story, or have any recommendations for improvements to my writing style or my English, I would love hear them.