1:42PM
Friday, October 26, 2007
Ministry of Magic
London, England
Ron sighed explosively, knocking his fist into the wall. "That was a waste of time. The useless ponce didn't know anything."
Although Harry privately agreed with his best friend on the usefulness of their interview with Percy's assistant, he tried to stay positive about their progress. "We did send sample's of their tea back to St. Mungo's. Maybe the Healers will find something."
"You don't believe that anymore than I do," Ron snorted. "If it was the tea, Percy would be sick too."
Harry couldn't argue with that, so he said nothing until they reached Arthur's office. Knocking once on the pebbled glass, Harry pushed the door open and was met with what appeared to be an empty room. "Caudwell?"
There was the thump of flesh and bone hitting wood and a muttered curse before the young man in question appeared from behind a towering pile of parchment. "M – Mr. Potter. Mr. Weasley."
"Caudwell," Harry rejoined congenially, ignoring the other man's nervous stuttering. "What in blazes are you doing with all those reports? They're liable to come crashing down and bury you."
A blush formed to accompany the stutter. "I – I just thought I'd get a head start on it, you know? For when Mr. Weasley comes back to work. I figure he was working too hard, that's why he took the funny spell. So, I thought if I had this all done before he came back ..."
Caudwell trailed off, probably mistaking the look in Ron's face for anger. Knowing him for as long as he had, Harry knew that his best friend twisted expression really signified he was closer to fighting off tears than exploding with rage. Recognizing Ron's emotional state, Harry took point for the interview.
"Caudwell, Arthur didn't collapse because he was over-worked," Harry began gently. "He was poisoned. And we need you to try and remember if there was anything weird this morning – did anything happen that seemed out of place?"
"Poisoned? How – why ...?"
"We're hoping you can help us find out. Is there anything out of place you can think of?"
Caudwell's eyebrows drew together in concentration as he thought back over the morning's events. "Well – Mr. Weasley came in the same time he did every morning, worked on some reports – we're backed up, you know, from all the raids this week. We worked on that all morning. Mr. Weasley went to have tea with his son ..." Caudwell's eyes darted towards Ron at those words, before continuing. "When he got back, we keep working until lunch. He seemed dizzy when he first stood up, like he was going to fall over. He said he was just hungry, but I should have done something ..."
Harry clapped a hand on the man's shoulder, trying to temper the guilt in his eyes. "You couldn't have known. And there was little you could have done anyway. Do you mind if we have a look around?"
Caudwell nodded before excusing himself back to his desk and towering piles of reports. Following Ron over to Arthur's work area, which was in a similar state of disarray, Harry tried not to lose all hope of finding some clue to what exactly had happened to Arthur. Harry chose to scan the shelves lining the wall, leaving Ron to go over his father's desk. There were family photos, the occupants smiling and waving from the mismatched frames. Old and battered tomes, whose subjects where so diverse there would be no sense in grouping them in any kind of order. And, unsurprisingly, random bits of Muggle paraphernalia – outlet covers, silver lighters, a worn stethoscope, match-books, and sitting proudly on display in the middle of it all was a bright yellow rubber duck. All of it was familiarly, comfortably, Arthur. None of it, however, held any of the answers Harry sought.
"Any luck?" Harry asked quietly, turning away from the display of shelves in defeat.
"No," Ron answered in frustration. "There's nothing here but repor – Wait!"
Ron had been in the process of pushing some of the smaller stacks around the desktop, but he had frozen in place and was staring at something on the desk. Following his gaze, Harry discovered what had stopped his friend in his tracks – the corner of something red and shiny emerging from one of those piles of paper. Moving forward again, this time with purpose, Ron knocked the parchment off the desk and onto the floor. A half eaten box of chocolates was revealed, the empty wrappers crumpled in the box alongside their untouched partners.
Pulling his wand, Harry floated the box up into the air. "You dad wasn't exactly a chocolate fiend, was he Ron?"
"He never bought sweets."
Nodding at Ron's grim tone, Harry turned to Arthur's young assistant. "Caudwell, where did this box come from?"
Jumping once more in surprise, Caudwell rose from his work to answer. "Why, Mr. Weasley's wife sent that to him this morning."
"Mum sent it?" Ron's brows knit together in confusion. "That doesn't make sense. How do you know they are from her?"
"Mr. Weasley told me so," Caudwell gulped. "It came while he was at tea. He told me ... well, he said it was like a, well, an apology."
Caudwell was clearly uncomfortable discussing such personal details with the son of the man in question, for he had flushed progressively pinker as he spoke.
"An apology?" Ron repeated. When Caudwell nodded, Ron turned to Harry and said, "This has to be it. Mum's been doing her nut over Dad all morning, you heard Ginny. She wouldn't have sent him chocolates."
Harry couldn't help but privately agree; such a gesture would be rather out of character for Molly in a complete rage. Searching around quickly, Harry snapped up the lid and fit it firmly in place. "Caudwell, you said these arrived while Arthur was at tea?"
"Yes, it came by owl."
Harry tapped his wand against the box in his hand, sealing it. "Caudwell, I need you to do us a favour. Take this down to the Auror department. Tell them we need this sent to Healer Clearwater at St. Mungo's immediately."
Caudwell took the proffered box and quickly made his way off to the Auror offices. Ron waited until he had gone to turn to face Harry, a light of hope in his eyes once more. "This is it, Harry. We've found it!"
Harry couldn't bring himself to disagree. "Come on, we're not done yet. All unofficial post coming into the Ministry has to go through the Central London Owl Office. If we're going to find who did this, we'll have to start there."
Hurrying to the Ministry lobby, they Apparated directly to the lobby of the Owl Office – empty but for them at this time in the afternoon. The room was full of the strong, musty smell that cannot be helped when many owls live in such close proximity, and a soft, constant hooting came from behind the long, polished granite counter behind which two bored looking witches sat playing a game of wizard's chess. The two women looked up at Harry and Ron's approach, quickly stashing their game board below the counter.
"Welcome to the Central London Owl Office, how can we help you?"
"We're with the Auror department," Harry explained, flashing his credentials. "We have some questions about a package that was sent from this office earlier this morning."
"We'll help any way we can, gentlemen. What is it you need?"
Harry explained the basics of the situation, ending with a description of the package and the approximate time it was sent. The elder of the two witches pulled a roll of parchment out and tapped it with her wand, causing writing to appear.
"I think I remember the package you are talking about – yes, here it is. Wrapped parcel; 0.68 kilograms; two Sickles, six Knuts. Ministry of Magic, Attn: Arthur Weasley. No return address."
Ron cursed under his breath at the last, but Harry hadn't really expected whoever was responsible to leave an easy trail to follow. "Is there anything you can remember about the person who sent it? What they looked like, any distinguishing features?"
Thinking for a moment, the witch described the man in question as best she could while Harry charmed his wand to draw the image in the air before them, making adjustments with each additional detail. Finally, the image of a fairly nondescript man stood before them, thin brown hair falling into matching brown eyes.
"Is this the man?"
The elder witch nodded, but the younger of the two looked thoughtful. "His nose was crooked, like it had been broken at one time."
The elder witch nodded, and Harry's wand quickly added in the final detail; the finished product was left hanging in mid-air, and was met with the approving murmurs from both ladies. Harry looked hard at the mild-mannered face floating before him. This seemingly innocuous young man was the cause of the pain and fear that was gripping Harry's family.
"Ladies, thank you for your time. You've been a huge help to us." Ron told them, a dangerous looking spreading across his features. Turning to his partner, he continued. "Come on Harry, let's go. We need to find some record of this bastard."
The two men Apparated back to the Ministry in quick succession and Ron immediately started off to the lifts and the Auror offices beyond, Harry rushing to keep up.
"Ron, wait up! We don't even know if this is the right guy."
"Of course it's the right guy, Harry! We have to find out who he is and find a cure for Dad!"
"Yeah, you're probably right. But we don't know if we'll be able to find him, or if we will find a cure when we do." The doors of the lifts slid open, revealing the hallway beyond, but Harry stepped in front of Ron, wanting to finish what he had to say before the red-head ran off. "I just – I don't want you to get your hopes up, okay? This might not be the lead we're looking for."
"For Merlin's sake Harry, I know that!" Ron pushed his way out into the hall. "But we won't know for sure until we look. Now stop fooling around; your wand is the one with this bastard's description."
Harry followed Ron out of the elevator with a sigh, the magical doors closing on him as he went. Ron still had all his hopes tied into finding some sort of record tied to the description they had, and that was the only thing moving his friend forward. Harry would just have to follow until Ron's hope ran out and he stopped moving – he suspected that was what Hermione had meant when she made Harry promise to watch after her husband.
Ron led the way down the hall and into their offices, barking orders as he entered.
"If this guy is running around poisoning people for no reason, he'll probably have some sort of past record. We can check the Auror's databank first to see if he's in there – if not we can check the Muggle's records."
"Yeah, you're right." Harry found himself saying again, heading for a large, steel filing cabinet at the back of the room, Junior Auror's scattering out of his and Ron's way. "This was too smoothly done; it doesn't feel like his first brush with crime."
Reaching their destination, Harry pulled on the painted handle of the top drawer. The drawer slid open with a screech, revealing a jumble of parchment. The top sheet twitched slightly before rising into the air and forming a mouth.
"Welcome to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement Databank, please enter your identification and state the purpose of your inquiry."
"Harry Potter, Senior Auror." Harry thrust his wand arm straight into the drawer, causing it to glow a soft yellow, after which he pulled his arm back out. "I have the description of a suspect here, and I'm looking for any past records on him."
As he spoke, the image his wand had generated back in the Owl Office's flowed out of the holly tip and drifted down into the open drawer.
"One moment please." The automated voice came from the suspended paper mouth as the drawer below it closed and a whirring sound issued from within. Almost at once the drawer flew open and a second piece of parchment floated up from its depths. Ron reached out and snatched it from the air.
"Doyle, Eddie. Charged with distributing jinxed Muggle alarm clocks; it was his third offence and he was fined and lost his business license. I knew it Harry! I knew we would find something on this guy!"
"Ron, look." Harry felt his stomach twinge. "Look who filed the report."
"Arthur Weasley," Ron breathed. "Dad busted him. That's what this is all about? Fifty Galleons and a lost license are the reason my father is lying in a hospital bed?"
"Is there an address, any contact information?"
Ron scanned the rest of the page, turned it over and then threw it back in the drawer in disgust. "It's only half completed. Dad said they were behind in their filing."
"Don't give up yet, Ron. If he had a license, he would have to have given out that information. Wilson!"
A nearby Junior Auror jumped and scrambled over. Harry handed her the piece of parchment Ron had abandoned.
"I need you to find all the information you can on this guy. I need a home address, and I need it yesterday." The young woman nodded eagerly and ran off. "Come on, Ron. Let's go."
"Where to, Harry? We should be here, working on finding Doyle."
Harry just shook his head. "Who knows how long that will take? Wilson is more than capable of handling that. We should take advantage of the time we have now – we're going back to St. Mungo's."
