Chapter IV: Looking Through the Grapevine

The next morning Amelia rushed through the Ministry halls at six in the morning trying to figure out a distraction. Despite what she told Emma, it would take one day for the minister and Dumbledore to pounce on Black. And by doing so, he had hidden Harry... That's it she thought to herself. I will try to get Dumbledore unappointed his guardian. The were some in the wizarding world who were concerned about Harry Potter's well being. She had heard from Susan directly, and from Neville Longbottom via Mrs. Longbottom, Harry was too short and too skinny. He was also introverted beyond the point of shyness, as Grandmother Longbottom said based on Nevile's reports. Susan had also said that he seemed afraid of contact.

Amelia cursed under her breath. Everything after that Halloween night had been a whirlwind, and by the time anyone had realized what had happened, Dumbledore had gotten himself appointed as Harry's guardian, and hidden him away. The Potter's will had never been read.

There was only one place where Amelia could locate Harry would be in the. Department of Mysteries. She grabbed the next lift she could and took it to the Department. She walked down the hallway as quickly as she could without drawing attention to herself.

"Croaker, I need to talk to you." She cried out to the imposing double door that signaled the entrance to the Department of Mysteries. Suddenly she heard a rumbling from that very set of doors, as they slowly parted and revealed a person wearing a black robe.

"Amelia Bones, I presume." These words came from the cloak.

"Cut the cloak and dagger crap Croaker, I need answers."

She could feel the disappointment radiate off of him, without his unspeakable robe on he was a good ten centimetres taller than she was. Right now he seemed to be around 25 centimetres taller. "As you wish, Madame." he said, not letting any hint of his disappointment slip into his voice. "What do want to know? The power of love? The nature of magic? The secrets of death?"

"No, I have a very concrete problem that requires very definitive answers."

"Very well, what problem brings the great Amelia Bones to my humble office?"

"Not here Croaker, I can't show my hand, not now. Can we talk in your office?"

"We have a conference room. Would that work?" Croaker said just a little too quickly. Not that Amelia picked up on the fact.

"Assuming it's not bugged."

"Follow me then."

Croaker lead Amelia through a winding maze of hallways, and Amelia stopped trying to keep track after the fifteenth, or was it the seventeenth, left. Eventually they came to a conference room. In the center of the small room was an oval-shaped table. He sat at one end of the room and motioned to the empty chair to his right. Amelia sat down on his left.

"Where is Harry Potter?" she said, getting straight to the point. She could only deal with so much cloak and dagger bull at a time.

Croaker's hood turned towards her. "What makes you think the DOM has that information."

"Because if he is not a class 1 person of interest then no one is. Aside from the obvious, his mother was almost an unspeakable herself, and the best magical researcher of the past fifty years, second to Dumbledore, and not by much. His father was my second in command during Operation Storm, an amazing wizard in his own right, and head of the Potter line, one of the few Most Noble and Most Ancient lines still in existence. It is believed that they are descended from Ignotus Peverell, and the cloak that they have is actually..." Amelia trailed off her, as she did not think that those tales held any significance. However, she knew that Voldemort felt otherwise. That bastard would do anything to stay alive.

"We are well aware of those rumors, and if they are anywhere close to true then Potter is the most powerful wizard alive in Great Britain." Coraker said, "as for his location, well I might let it slip to you that he lives with his aunt and uncle at number four Privet Drive in Little Whinging, Surrey, but that would just be unprofessional of me, now wouldn't it."

Amelia made no effort to hide her growing grin, "Indeed it would Croaker, indeed it would."

Amelia looked around at the street that she was on. It was the most normal place in existence. It was very uncomfortable, as you realized that the people who lived here had sold their souls a long, long time ago. And everyone who wanted to sell their soul had secrets that wanted to keep hidden; she just happened to know what the occupants of the house she was coming up on were trying their best to hide. If she played it right, she could get them to eat out of her hand.

She knocked on the door with her left hand, as her right one was carrying a satchel. A walrus that had been transfigured into a person answered the door. It took her a moment to realize that she had just offended walruses everywhere. After all, they did not look like large red balloons.

"Dursley residence," the human walrus said and Amelia could hear that he did not even try to conceal the hostility in his voice.

"You must be Mr. Dursley, I am here to inquire about a certain Harry Potter that lives here."

"THERE IS NO POTTER HERE!" Amelia swore that if he got any angrier, he would pop like a balloon.

"Then where is Mr. Potter at the moment?"

"I DO NOT KNOW OF ANYONE NAMED POTTER!" Here Mr. Dursley look like he was going to burst. "NOW LEAVE BEFORE I HAVE YOU ARRESTED!"

"I don't think that would be a smart thing to do, Mr. Dursley." Amelia looked over her fingernails at him. "You see, I am an employee of the Ministry of Magic. And I do not think that you would like to explain to the police...Are you alright?"

Mr. Dursley was not in fact alright. At the moment that the word "magic" was mentioned, he grew deathly pale and started shaking. "Ri..Ri...Right th...th...this way ma..Ma'am," he choked out.

Amelia followed him in and glanced around the house. The inside expressed just the tiniest amount more of individuality than the outside, and that included pictures on the wall. She was idly wondering why anyone would take a picture of a beach ball and hang it on their wall. Looking closer, she could see a pudgy face and sandy hair. Well that certainly was not Harry. He had his fathers unruly black hair ever since he was eight months old. Looking around, Amelia saw that all of the pictures on the wall were of the beach-ball child, and there was no sign that Harry lived here. That is, except for the episode at the door. They arrive in the living room and Amelia sat down. She her eyes over the collection of plates that were on the mantel, before gazing into the electric fireplace to figure out her next move.

"BOY!" She heard the walrus bellow, "GET DOWN HERE NOW!" Amelia took her satchel and placed it in her lap. She heard the stairs creak and saw the boy she was looking for enter the living room. He was as thin as she had heard, with his father's messy black hair and his mother's piercing green eyes. Amelia was surprised that his clothes stayed on his body; they were that baggy. He sat down on the couch across from her, trying to look as small as possible.

Ok, I guess I need to take this nice and slow, Amelia thought to herself