AN. Thank you, Star Mirage! While I think it is perfectly possible to guess what's happened with the LT-factory, the really important question is 'why'. And this is not the only mystery here! He-he…

Chapter 3 turned to be a rather large piece of writing when I finished it, so I decided to break it into two smaller ones. So the next update will be pretty soon!

This chapter: Harry continues his investigation and finds a new piece of evidence… But first, we'll have a glimpse of Ginny's life as a married woman.

Chapter 3. Against Growing Cold

At the crack of dawn, Ginny Potter, née Weasley, was already full awake. She looked at the empty space at the twin bed beside her, frowned, then shifted the blanket aside, got out of bed, threw a brief glance at the mirror and went downstairs, still in her green silk night gown.

The kitchen was perfectly clean. Ginny looked suspiciously at the small scratch on the oven's door, passed her hand over it several times, and remained relatively content with the examination. Harry was nowhere to be seen. Ginny sighed and took a pack of Gusto's Glad Grain from the shelf, about to prepare her usual breakfast. As she moved one of her special breakfast cups, she noticed an old pack of those awful muggle biscuits hidden behind – it seemed that Harry again could not resist the temptation. Ginny shook her head with a picturesque disapproval and took the malicious pack away, throwing it mercilessly in the garbage bin where it belonged. Harry of course would thank her… later. Having a long career in sports behind, she certainly understood the importance of healthy food better than he did.

Finally, she took the freshly-prepared cup of chocolate, reached out for the recently bought "Till the Death Us Part: Things That a Married Witch Should Know Before It's Too Late" by famous Esmeralda Zabini, sat down and began to study the book with that inimitable impression which only women considering themselves quite successful in the matter possessed.

She was in the middle of "Against Growing Cold" chapter, when a quiet bubbling sound reached her ears. Ginny carefully put the book aside, not forgetting to mark a page, and only then rose and moved to the sitting room, were the Speaking Cauldron was installed.

Ginny looked at the murky liquid inside: Molly's features were forming in the depth. She sighed, adjusted her hair, then lapped over her night gown; and only after that attended to the call.

'Ginny dear!'

'Hi, mum.'

'You weren't answering for so long. Are you all right?'

'Yes, mum. I'm all right.' She looked at the large clock on the mantelpiece. 'Why are you calling so early? Anything happened?'

'Oh, did I wake you up?'

'No, I wasn't sleeping. I was – '

'But you're still in your night gown…' Molly narrowed her eyes. 'Don't remember this one. Is it new?'

'Fleur gave it to me at my last birthday. It's French.'

'Ah, Fleur,' drawled Mrs. Weasley. 'Nice one, though.'

Ginny felt that her left leg was becoming numb, and change her pose.

'So what's happened, mum?'

'And where's Harry? Call him here, I want to greet him.'

'He's not at home,' said Ginny in a most careless manner. 'Had to go to work.'

'So early? Ginny, dear –'

'It is that case. Very important, he said,' answered Ginny hastily.

'The one he had to leave you for a week? Where he's been, I wonder?'

'Only for three days, mum. And he's not supposed to tell, you know. Anyways, I don't – '

'But it's very serious, don't you see! If Arthur would've gone for a week and I knew nothing, I'd gone mad! How could you be so… so… so indifferent?'

Ginny clenched her fists and smiled: 'Of course I'm not. And you should calm down, mum, honestly. Harry is not a kid, you know. And he's been an Auror for ten years already. He dealt with hundreds evil wizards and Merlin knows what other dangers. And before that he defeated the most terrible dark mage of the age, just in the case you forgot.'

Her last words sounded strangely in the air, and they seemed to affect her mother in a peculiar way.

'Ginny, my love. I didn't want to embarrass you. But I was so worried! Tell me,' Molly dropped her voice, 'Tell me. You and Harry had an argument, right?'

Ginny took a deep breath and then exhaled very slowly.

'No, mum, we'd not. You're mistaken.'

Molly looked at her suspiciously, certainly not convinced.

'I'm your mother. I need to know. Whom could you trust if not me? You had, hadn't you?'

'No we hadn't.'

'I can help you, Ginny, dear – '

'No you won't!' and Ginny winced, feeling a sudden fit of sickness.

'Ginny? What's happened? What's wrong with you?'

'I'm fine, mum,' she said, already calm. 'You've just upset me. Those stupid fancies of yours, they're getting on my nerves.'

'But are you well? You've turned so white.'

'Don't worry, I'm fine… So what's that matter you've called for?'

'But you sure that – '

'Yes, mum. What is it?'

'Oh, it's about the Anniversary – have you received the invitation already?'

'The Anniversary?' Ginny repeated dully.

'The Great Hogwarts Reopening – it's the ten years anniversary! They're giving a Halloween Ball; all from the former Dumbledore's Army and the Order are invited. The Minister himself will be there.'

'Oh, that's great!' exclaimed Ginny, earnestly trying to sound enthusiastic. 'You and dad are also going?'

'I think I'll decline. George asked me to stay with Mod; it's her first time, you know, and she is a bit nervous. He'll be a very powerful wizard, to be born on All Hallows Eve.'

'He? And why not she?'

'It's a boy,' said Molly. 'I just know that. George wants it so much. '

'Oh. I see,' said Ginny and fell silent.

'Now call Harry and tell him the happy news. He'll make it up with you on the instant, you'll see. So good bye, dear. I haven't called Ron and Hermione yet.'

'Bye, mum. Send them my regards.'

'Bye, darling.'

Molly's face vanished; the liquid darkened and became perfectly still; but for some time Ginny stayed kneeled before the Cauldron, not moving. Her own face, sad and tired, looked back at her from inside. Ginny forced herself to smile – but turned away immediately, frightened at the attempt.

She wouldn't give up, she thought. She'll be strong. She was one of the best Quidditch players. Now, she is a successful reporter. She was recently named among the prettiest witches in Britain, her picture on the cover of the Witch Weekly. Of course Harry loves her. It's just her imagination. She'll get past it; she'll manage.

Suddenly, a child's cry came from upstairs, and Ginny rushed there at once; all her worries completely forgotten.

oxXxo

It was five thirty in the morning, and the Auror's office in the Ministry was completely empty – except from a single person, Harry himself.

A huge tome lay before him, greasy and tattered as if it had been in constant use for no less than ten years. The materials on the Cold Factory case were indeed very vast. When preparing for his country journey, Harry had already made himself familiar with the most essential of them, but now the tale of misfortunate Archibald Slopey put some of those facts into a new light.

Here, the members of the first Investigation Committee. Two from the Law Enforcement, one from the Magic Accidents, two from the Department of Mysteries – aha! Harry exclaimed silently at the sight of the familiar name – and, at last, two from the newly-made Department of Information. One external expert – somebody with a German surname; probably, the very person who had been promised to the Factory staff as the replacement of late Rosier. Their verdict – criminal negligence… All members seemed to show a perfect unanimity.

But what about those mysterious delays? Harry was positively eager to know the Committee's opinion on them. To his surprise, this factor seemed to have had no influence on the decision. He met some brief mentioning of the 'time deviations' in one of the most technical parchments; but its text was alternated with formulae that were definitely beyond his modest abilities in Higher Mathmagic. Probably, Hermione would have made something out of them, but Harry wasn't sure yet in their importance; and he didn't want to bother his friend with nonsense. Aside from that parchment, another curious document caught his eye; it was the expert evaluation of the project written by that foreign wizard. It was in every respect a remarkable evaluation – aside from a small flaw: in was written completely in German, with no translation supplied.

Harry settled back in his chair and took a large sip of coffee. As for now, it was a dead end.

Then he decided to try a different approach. He began searching for any note mentioning the interrogation under Veritaserum – but also in vain. He noticed, however, that several pages were missing from the case in the part where the supposed transcript of interrogation should have been, as well as in some others. Instead of them, a slip of paper with the black stamp of the Department of Information was stuck inside, with no indication of the reason why the pages had been taken. Nothing again, thought Harry.

Still, he could check the other part of Slopey's tale. Harry flicked several pages back, to examine the transcript of the Factory's Writ-Thing, a device which was registering the details of the production process. At first glance the long rows of numbers and symbols made no sense, and it was precisely the reason Harry had decided to omit the transcript before; but now he forced himself to decipher it. It appeared to be quite easy, to his surprise, as he became adjusted to the outline – and yes, the delay of which Slopey told him was there. Two barrels of Developers, eighteen gallons each… production ordered two nights before… – he flicked through some more pages – yes, here they are, in the list of orders, two sixteen gallon barrels of Developers… Stop. Harry looked again, thinking that he was mistaken – but no, the barrels size did not match.

He urged himself to pause, trying to suppress the growing excitement. It could be just the typist's fault, after all; and he had already imagined all but a world-scale conspiracy. Yet it was indeed something, and something undoubtedly worth checking. Very carefully, he reread the corresponding parts of both documents: from the context, it was impossible to understand whether the mistake had been deliberate. Then Harry began to study the transcript more scrupulously, doubling his attention when it mentioned the delayed orders.

As he looked through the papers, his excitement began to fade: from the twenty six suspicion delays he met so far, only one more was connected with mistake. This time it was the order of Freezers (Harry did not know what they were used for), which were measured in bottles - the size of the bottles was right, but their number differed. Again, it was the discrepancy that could have been a result of a common misprint: forty seven instead of forty one. Both suspicious orders were intended for the Department of Mysteries – as well as good few of others, though.

Harry had been still examining the transcript for further mistakes, when the other Aurors started to arrive. He checked the time – already nine thirty; he did not notice as those four hours fled.

'Hey, mate, you've been sleeping here, or what?'

Harry turned around and saw Ron, his old friend and not-so-old co-worker.

'Woke up at three and could not asleep,' said Harry honestly. 'Why?'

'And you found nothing better than to come here to work? Blimey, I bet Ginny was angry!' Ron laughed and looked at the cover of the case. 'Still the Cold Factory, eh?'

'Yes,' nodded Harry and closed the tome. He didn't want others to look at his papers, not even Ron.

'I'm still somehow not getting it,' said Ron. 'The case is as cold as its name. Why on earth turn it up again?'

'Who knows. Kingsley said that our Department was to hold an inquest; and I took it. Haven't asked why.'

'We could ask Hermione. She's a Lady-Boss, you know. Or that Prefect-Who-Gained-Power, I mean my brother Percy,' sniffed Ron.

Harry smiled: he knew that Ron still could not forgive Percy's supposed attempt to court Hermione seven years ago, when she had just been transferred to the Law Enforcement. Probably, there had been nothing at all (Harry personally thought exactly that); but Ron would become jealous literally of nothing. The idea to ask Hermione, though, was quite plausible.

'And how's Hermione?' Harry said. 'I haven't seen her for quite a while.'

'Not that I am luckier… Still see her only at dinner, and not every day, too.' Behind his friend's smile Harry could see a distinct hint of offence. 'And I thought we would meet more often now when our offices are on the same Level as hers.'

Harry smiled apologetically: 'I think she's got plenty of work, with all those new reorganizations… And she's rising very rapidly, your Hermione.'

'Soon she'll become our boss, just you wait,' Ron nodded. 'She's almost as famous as you now… Or, and Mr Popularity, have you already prepared your speech?'

That last part of the joke Harry did not get: 'Why should I give a speech?'

'Nobody told you? You're joking!' Ron was delighted. 'Of course, the speech for the Halloween Ball at Hogwarts. It's ten years since the school reopened, remember? The Great Anniversary!'

'Well, now I know,' said Harry without too much enthusiasm.

'You're not happy?'

'Let's say I have mixed feelings. To be precise, that speech thing makes me feel a bit uncomfortable.' It was more to it than this, but Harry decided not to tell Ron about it yet.

'Think: Hogwarts, sweet Hogwarts. All our friends will come. And the professors. You know, I really miss our McGonagall. The others too… Man, I even miss that Slytherin, Slughorn!'

The mention of the Head of Slytherin House reminded Harry of the other person he had to speak to, so he interrupted Ron's musings:

'And by the way, Ron – haven't you come across a certain Blaise Zabini recently?'

'That Slytherin bloke from the Department of Mysteries?' wondered Ron. 'Met him several times in the café on Level One. Why?'

'I thought you might know something about him from your and George's business.'

'And what he has to do with Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes?'

'Nothing, just a thought… He usually dines in the upper-café, then? Not on Level Seven with everyone?'

The newly refurbished café on Level One was fancied particularly by the high ministry officials.

Ron shrugged his shoulders: 'Why not? A perfect place for a Slytherin climber. Close to the sun and all that.'

'Oh, indeed? Hmm, then I better have lunch there today,' said Harry with a hint of smile in his eyes. 'It's time to come out from the shadows for me too, don't you think?'

Next chapter: as you have probably already guessed, the meeting with Blaise…