Ch 4
"...awful things have happened when wizards have meddled with time..." – Hermione from Prisoner of Azkaban
The very early morning hours in the Department of Mysteries:
Augustus Rookwood is working late again. Or perhaps working early, the terms become confused when the person in question doesn't always leave the building daily. Rookwood is one of the biggest workaholics in the Department of Mysteries, but the first hint for him that this night is not the same as other nights is a heating of the heir's ring on his finger and a dire sense of foreboding somewhere past midnight.
"What the hell are you meddling with now, father?" he hisses out even as a wave of the disturbing magic washes over him.
Then the family connection of the ring surges, knocking Rookwood back into the wall behind him. When he comes to with a splitting headache a few hours later he notices two things: something very strange just happened that he could not recognize and the ring on his finger has transformed. No longer is his ring the ring of the heir, but rather the signet ring of the Rookwood family head.
Gathering himself up and cursing all the while he begins putting away his work materials almost growling at his superior when he comes in to demand an explanation for the disturbance recorded. "I don't know what the bloody hell my idiot patriarch did, but whatever it is got him killed. I'm going to have to go to the estate and attend to matters."
"Fine. I'll expect a report. Call for a team if you need to," Croaker replies, not bothering reprimand the younger man for his tone. Honestly he could care less, particularly since the young man in question just lost a parent.
The Rookwood Estate:
After making his way downstairs to the approved Ministry apparition site, Rookwood arrives with a crack at the gates of the family estate only to find with some disgruntlement that a team of Aurors is already there and currently arguing with one of the family house elves about admittance.
"Mimsy, go back to your duties, I will handle this," he says harshly, causing the elf to eep. "Yes, Master Augustus." She disappears with a soft 'pop'. His features settling into a cold mask he turns, inwardly cursing as he spots Auror Moody among the group. "What brings you to the Rookwood Estate?"
Moody extends the search warrant to the young man, "We've gotten reports that an illicit ritual including blood magic may have recently been conducted here. This permits a search of the grounds," he says, expression grim. Alastor Moody isn't one to beat around the bush.
'Damn it, father, what the hell were you up to that was big enough to send Aurors looking? Or for that matter to register to someone who would report it to them,' Augustus wonders, his own expression equally grim. "Touch nothing we find. Nothing. Do you understand?" His tone comes out harsh but in his eyes is the truth. He doesn't expect what they find to be pretty. He may not always have respected his father but the man still was his father. Even as he prepares to lead the group he wonders just who noticed his father's ill-fated hobby.
"Relax, lad, if we find the ritual scene that will be for the Unspeakables to handle. We must investigate," Moody says gruffly as he considers his questions. For now he saves them, knowing that more will come upon seeing the ritual site.
Hours later at Hogwarts:
Albus Dumbledore has been up since very early waiting after the first interruption with young Potter and Black bringing the girl to him. He informed Minerva that he would not be present at breakfast so that he can be sure to be in his office for any reports to come in. After interviewing the girl and speaking to Moody he is happy to finally see the flare in the floo that he's been waiting for that signals some further information would finally be forthcoming.
"Shall I come through, Albus?" Moody asks, having initiated a fire call to his old friend.
"Of course, Alastor," Dumbledore says and once the man steps through and is settled in the chair across from his desk he extends a small dish, "Care to try a lemon drop? They are quite wonderful. I only just discovered them."
"It's too early for that. Or too late maybe after being up all bloody night," Moody says in a tone both gruff and grouchy.
"Ah. Tea then?" Dumbledore suggests, an elf appearing with a tea tray before he even has to ask.
Moody has a momentary lapse wondering why Albus doesn't just open a bloody restaurant or tearoom. He glowers at the way the twinkle brightens, "Oh stop that." Cranky much?
"Of course, Alastor. I can see you need some rest. It was good of you to come before returning home," Dumbledore replies, all seriousness now that his tea is poured.
"It was a mess, Albus. Definitely a blood ritual, that girl is lucky she's alive, because Rookwood the elder and the woman are both dead. I made you a copy of the report. They sent a team over from Mysteries. Don't know what they made of it. Young Rookwood wasn't pleased, seemed to think whatever the father was trying to accomplish might have backfired on him. Oh, he said he'd try and stop over in a few days once matters are more settled." Moody reports gruffly.
Albus accepts the file and begins looking over the details. "He seemed willing to acknowledge the young lady?" he asks. "It would be good for her to have family."
"Provided he concludes she is family, yes," Moody replies. "Though no one who has met his Aunt Demetria would doubt it."
"Demetria Lestrange? Oh, quite right, Alastor, there is a resemblance isn't there?" Albus nods his expression somber, adding, "Very well. I will expect to see him soon then. Thank you for your assistance, Alistair."
"I'll let you know if I hear anything further, Albus," Moody says, rising to his feet before heading back to the fireplace to floo home.
Albus continues to look over the report, comparing it with the notes that Poppy sent up from the girl and sighs. Fawkes trills sympathetically and he smiles at his familiar. "Yes, quite right my friend, we shall make it work out."
While all of this is going on there is a smoldering wreck of a cottage outside Cambridge that has been burning all night. Local fire fighters tried to put out the flames but in the end all they could do was keep the fire from spreading to the surrounding countryside. The nature of the fire summons a small ministry team and only now were the magical flames dying.
The team is now set on finding out how many of the muggles might require obliviation and are subtly questioning the bystanders.
"When was the fire first noticed and reported?" an elderly gentleman playing the role of fire inspector asks the small group of distant neighbors and busybodies that has been gathered while the fire was fought.
One of the busybodies nudges a distraught older woman forward, "Go on dearie, you tell the nice man all a'boot it."
After blowing her nose noisily on a handkerchief she complies, "I was a bit late getting home from my weekly bridge evening, Ethel Stubbins made cake so we all stayed a bit later. Ethel's a splendid baker, you see." There is some more sniffling, "When I got home I happened to look towards the Wilson house and... and... those poor dears..."
The other woman pats her on the back gently. "There, there, Gladys."
Paul Connor looks gravely at the distraught woman, "You believe the home was occupied at the time?" The obliviator waits for the answer.
Gladys manages to regain her composure after a minute and use of her abused handkerchief once more. "A woman and her daughter, they did not go out much particularly the daughter."
"The girl was a little strange but no harm to her," the busybody interjects.
"Don't speak ill of the dead. She was a nice girl. Neither of them deserved that," Gladys says harshly enough that the busybody looks mildly ashamed.
After asking a few more questions Connor steps away and speaks with his team quietly. A few memory modifications are made with the local fire fighters so they won't wonder why another 'fire team' took over.
"There should be some trace if they were within the building when it burned," one of the team members says.
"We'll check with the MLE when we get back. See if they turned up anywhere else," Connor replies.
This additional report will set another piece into the puzzle of the night Hermione Rookwood arrived at Hogwarts.
