Chapter Nine

Victoire lay in her bed at The Burrow, her eyes wide open. She was staring at the ceiling in her dad's old room. Her grandparents, ever the doting parents, hadn't changed the room much from when Bill Weasley and Victoire's Uncle Charlie had shared the bedroom all those years ago. The sloping ceilings were plastered with old ("vintage" Bill liked to say) Puddlemere United posters, moving photos of Hogwarts students in their uniforms and a huge poster of a Peruvian Vipertooth, Uncle Charlie's favorite kind of dragon. A dresser stood on the far end of the room, right next to a door that led out to a terrace. She turned her head to stare at the stars twinkling against their black backdrop. They seemed to wink at her, letting her in on a joke she wasn't sure she quite understood.

Victoire shared this room with Dominique when they stayed at The Burrow overnight, but the tiny bed across from her own sat resolutely empty with no sleeping Dom in it. Victoire missed her sister's soft snores, her gentle rustling. Dominique was a fitful sleeper, and more than once, Victoire had thrown a pillow at her to get her to stop moving, for Merlin's sake!

Tonight, however, Victoire lay quite alone in the room, feeling a flush of anxiety from the top of her head down to her toes. She had long since stopped hearing the creaks coming from the house. Gran and Grandad had gone to sleep long ago after interrogating her severely about what Teddy had needed from her. Now she lay silent in the bed, trying not to think about what she was about to do. She had tucked her wand under her pillow and now reached underneath her head to feel it, fingering the edge of it and willing the roiling in her stomach to end. Any moment, she could summon up a Patronus to send the message. But here she lay, with her heart pounding in her throat, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her stomach flip-flopping with anxiety.

Slowly, she pulled the wand out from under her head, tossing the sheet back from her body. She didn't wear pajamas, but a pair of jeans and a blue tank top. She crept across the room, wincing at the creaking that came from the old floorboards, and grabbed her backpack, slinging it over her shoulders.

Then, Victoire crept over to the window and peered down into the garden. From below, she could see the figure huddled against the fence, his long legs curled up to his chest. She sighed, remembering his warm hands on her face, his eyes piercing her own. She took her wand, placed in at her throat, closed her eyes and said, "Expecto Patronum." As she pulled the wand away, a thin, jagged thread of light emanated from the tip of the wand to her throat. Slowly, she pointed the wand away from her, giving it a tight jab and from the tip of the wand burst a huge, silent creature.

The gleaming white lioness prowled at Victoire's legs, looking up at her expectantly. "Tell Teddy Lupin I'm ready. I'm coming outside," she whispered. The Patronus nodded, and with the grace of a feline, leapt from the small terrace down to the garden. Victoire watched as the lioness raced across the garden toward Teddy, who was standing now. She watched as he received the message, and began to cross the garden. Taking a deep breath, Victoire cracked open the little door and stepped out onto the terrace.

Below her, Teddy Lupin stood silently, watching as she emerged. Her hair was pulled into a long ponytail that she had tossed carelessly over her shoulder. She looked down at him, a small smile on her face. Warily, he raised his wand and whispered, "Wingardium Leviosa!" and with a swish and a flick, Victoire rose from the terrace and smoothly sailed down to the ground, landing lightly in front of him.

"You've improved," she noted with a smile. "The last time you did that, James flew clear across the yard.

"I was seventeen!" Teddy said defensively. "Too eager to do magic."

They were quiet for a moment. Victoire looked back at The Burrow, her eyebrows knitting together in worry. "Hey," Teddy said. "You ok?"

She nodded. "Yes, I suppose. They just...took me in this time. And I'm just running away from them. My parents trusted them to keep an eye on me..."

"We'll get word to them," Teddy said reassuringly. "Come on. We've got to get to where we can Apparate."

"I'm not sure where the wards end," Victoire said. "No one else has these kinds of wards anymore. Not even Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione, and she's the bloody Minister for Magic."

"When I Apparated here, the wards tossed me a few hundred yards that way." Teddy pointed west. Victoire nodded.

"Ok," she said. "Let's go."

Silently, they began to trudge across the yard, The Burrow getting smaller and smaller behind them. They stumbled through the tall grass that grew around The Burrow, Victoire guiding Teddy around the various gnome holes.

"Careful," she said, grabbing his arm to steady him as he nearly tripped and fell.

"Thanks," he said with a grateful smile. But it was dark outside, with the barest sliver of a moon visible in the sky, and Victoire didn't see his smile.

After a few minutes silence, Teddy cleared his throat. "How's-er…" He paused, wondering if he really wanted to go down this conversational path with her. "How's the bloke you were seeing?"

Her head snapped toward him, and he saw her eyes widen with surprise. "What?" Her voice sounded tight.

"Avi? That was his name, right?" Teddy tried to sound casual, but he feared he was just giving away how nervous he was.

A long pause. "Yes, that is his name," she said.

"You're still seeing him?"

"I mean...I'm at The Burrow," she said. "And he's...at St. Mungo's."

"I thought classes had been cancelled?" Teddy paused. "Oh. Is he a Healer?"

"No. He's a Muggle-born." Another pause. "He's been infected."

"Shit."

"Yeah."

"Sorry, Vic," he said.

"It's fine," she said. "He'll be fine once we can...figure out the source of the infection. The source will lead us to the heir."

Teddy looked around. "I think we can Apparate from here," he said. "This is right about where I ended up today." She nodded.

"We're going to St. Mungo's?" she asked.

"Tomorrow," Teddy said. "We'll raise fewer eyebrows if you go during normal business hours."

"Where are we going now? Your flat?"

Teddy shook his head. "Once they realize you've gone, they'll come straight to my flat and take you right back again."

Victoire made an annoyed sound, still fuming about her argument with her dad. "So where will we go?"

"I have an idea."


12 Grimmauld Place had seen better days, but you wouldn't know it from looking at it now. The decay of the House of Black, unseen by Muggle passersby, had spread to the homes around it. The neighborhood had fallen into a deep disrepair. Most of the homes around Grimmauld Place were boarded up or abandoned. The few that remained had litter on their stoops. It was July, but one house still had a window cling Santa Claus stuck to the facade.

Teddy had brought them to the little park across the way. Victoire stumbled as they landed, grabbing Teddy's shoulder for support. The park was abandoned save for the rats that skittered across the overgrown brick path.

"Where are we?" Victoire whispered.

"Grimmauld Place," Teddy replied, turning his head to look at her. Her face was bright with excitement and nerves.

"I thought it was…"

"Gone?" Teddy shook his head. "No. It's Harry's."

"But then won't he be able to find us?"

"Shhh." Slowly, he opened the creaky gate at the park, gesturing for Victoire to leave first. Giving him a quizzical look, she edged past him and out of the gate, stepping onto the lonely street. Behind her, she heard the click of the gate closing and Teddy's light breathing.

Cautiously, they crept across the road, approaching the faded black door of Number 12. As she approached, she caught a glimpse of the huge door knocker. Like the Potter house, the door knocker was ornate. Unlike the Potter house, the knocker was silver and shaped like a great, twisted serpent. Victoire felt the eerie aura of the house come over her, and it was all she could do to not run far from the creepy old house.

"There's no way to get in," she said, noting the obvious lack of a doorknob or even a lock.

"Hmmm," was all Teddy said, staring at the door thoughtfully. He gripped his wand, waving it a few times at the door. Some sparks-red and green-flew from the tip of his wand and hovered around the door knocker. Then, the knocker moved.

Victoire sprang back, her heel catching the top step and she fell hard down two steps. Teddy, startled, leapt down the steps and crouched next to her, a concerned look coming over his face.

"I'm fine," she said, pushing herself off the sidewalk and gingerly patting her rear. "It just...scared me."

"Yeah, I've never seen the one at Harry's do that," Teddy said. "Anyway." They took the steps back up to the door, and Teddy flicked his wand again. The same red and green sparks hovered briefly around the knocker, and the serpent's mouth began to move.

"Who comes into the House of Black?"

"It's me," Teddy whispered. "Edward Remus Lupin, son of Nymphadora Tonks, grandson of Andromeda Black."

The serpent's head nodded, and with an almighty wrenching sound, the heavy black door creaked open. Victoire reached into her pocket, gripping her wand as the dimly lit corridor came into view. Teddy went ahead, the tip of his wand lit to illuminate the corridor better. Victoire stepped in, and the moment she was fully inside, the door creaked behind her with a piercing creak. Victoire thanked the blissfully empty street and abandoned homes; she didn't want to attract attention to herself and Teddy breaking into a house that no one but wizards could see.

"Stay close," Teddy whispered and Victoire nodded, following him into the corridor, her wand in her hand.

"Homenum Revelio," she heard Teddy whisper. Nothing happened, and she was flooded with relief for the first time since she had arrived at The Burrow days ago. She followed Teddy up some stairs and into another tight, dark corridor.

"I think the drawing room is here," he said, and pushed open a door. A puff of dust met them, and they both dissolved into hacking coughs, covering their mouths and waving the dust away with their hands. When the dust had cleared, they opened their watery eyes to examine the drawing room.

It was a huge, dark room with more serpents on the wallpaper. "They really leaned into this theme, didn't they?" Victoire remarked, looking down at the carpet only to see more snakes printed on the rug.

"A house of Slytherins, I guess," Teddy said, shrugging.

"Does Harry ever come here?" Victoire said. "This place is a bit of a dump."

"He tried to donate it to the Ministry a few years ago, I think," Teddy said, waving his wand and watching dust disappear from the sofas and tables. "But the house put up a terrific fight. Wouldn't even let Ministry officials in."

"How did we get in?"

Teddy smiled. "I'm a Black," he said, shrugging and flopping down on the shortest sofa. "Even though my Gran was disowned, the house still has loyalty to me. Old Walburga didn't have a chance to change the spells before she croaked."

"Walburga?"

"Sirius Black's mum."

"Ah." Victoire tossed her backpack down, sliding down into the sofa opposite Teddy. "So...tell me the plan for tomorrow."


Later, when Victoire thought back to donning the green robes of a St. Mungo's Healer and taking confidential medical records out of the hospital, she would remember it as a minute detail in the whole grand scheme. She wouldn't remember how her heart was racing as she fastened the green Healers robes. She wouldn't remember her sweaty palms as she clipped her St. Mungo's identification card. She certainly wouldn't remember how she Apparated around the corner from the hospital or how she took the lift up to the records floor. Neither would she remember how she requested over a hundred copies of patient records, how she handed over her badge and watched as the witch waved her wand over the badge to confirm Victoire's identity. She wouldn't be able to recall how she got the files down and on the lift and out of the hospital. She didn't remember sending a Patronus with a message to Gran.

What Victoire did remember from that day was spreading the files out on the huge kitchen table, sitting at the table and sorting the files alphabetically. The crinkly parchment rustled as she and Teddy worked in silence, poring over the tiny words. Victoire spotted her own signature a few times under intake for many of the patients.

After a few hours of poring over the files, Teddy stood up to stretch. "I think," he said. "I should make an appearance at the Ministry today."

She nodded, not looking at him. "Okay."

"Do you want something to eat?"

Her stomach gave a traitorous rumble. "I'll be okay for a few hours," she said, still poring over a piece of parchment.

"Why don't you go to my flat and get some food there?"

"Teddy," Victoire said, finally looking up. "I know you don't keep food at your flat. I've been there before."

"I do!" he said defensively. "I have...tea...and stuff."

"Tea and...stuff?" She raised her eyebrows. "Well, gee, that sounds delightful."

"I'll get you something on my way back," he said, grabbing some files off the desk. "I'm going to take these and look at them in my office."

She looked back at the papers in front of her, a pen stuck behind her ear. Teddy smiled, remembering how she used to tuck a pen behind her ear when she studied for exams at Hogwarts. "Fine," she replied.

"And if Harry asks where you've gone…"

"Tell him you don't know," she said. "Tell him we had a row, and I'm not speaking to you anymore."

"I'm not a very good liar," he admitted, sliding the files into his bag.

"Who said that was a lie?"


"Hey! Lupin! Hellooooo?"

Teddy's head snapped up as he pulled his headphones out of his ears. Jamila Khan was standing in the doorway of his office, waving her hand in front of him to get his attention. "Finally!" she exclaimed.

"What's up?" he said, instinctively closing the file he was reading.

"You were supposed to come to your first meeting with me ten minutes ago," she said. "Update me on the progress you've made? Remember? I put it in your calendar." She pointed at the huge desk calendar that was hung up in the office. Teddy glanced at it, and there it was in green ink: Supervision with J.K.

"Shit," Teddy said. "One week and I'm already missing appointments. I'll be there in a sec."

Jamila shook her head. "I haven't got the time now," she said. "But be ready by Friday to give me a full update on what you've been up to. I have to run to a meeting with the boss!" And with that, she was gone, jogging down the hall to Harry's office.

Teddy felt a guilty squirm in his stomach at the mention of Harry. He knew he'd eventually have to reveal how he found the files, and how he was able to go through over a hundred different files. For now, though, he'd be able to keep the secret for a while longer. At least until he got some answers.


"I want to go see this family," Victoire said, sliding a file across the table to Teddy. He set down his chopsticks into his pad thai, pausing mid-chew to look at the file.

"Gideon Tate?"

She nodded, taking a huge, noodley bite and chewing thoughtfully before replying, "Yes. I think it'll be good for us to start in one place."

"Us?"

She narrowed her eyes. "Yes, us."

He looked through the file, pausing again. "His sister is Lola Tate?"

Victoire gave him a closed-mouth smile. "Finally! I was wondering when you'd see that."

"That's rather unusual," Teddy commented, his eyes raking over the parchment. "Two Muggle-born wizards in one family?"

"It's not unheard of," Victoire said. "The Creeveys-Dennis Creevey, who works at the Prophet-he had a brother who went to Hogwarts."

"Ah, yeah," Teddy said. "That's right. I remember from the…ceremonies."

"I think we should talk to Lola," Victoire said. "She and Gideon run their parents' cafe somewhere in Camden."

"Okay," Teddy said. "I'll go tomorrow."

"I'm not sure why you're trying to keep me out of this," Victoire said, shrugging. "You came to me for help.

"If Harry catches on that you're helping me, I could lose my job."

"It's a contract job," Victoire said. "You're still a reporter at the Prophet, remember?"

"You know what I mean."

She ignored him. "I think we should go tonight."

"Tonight?"

"Tonight."


"Vic!" Lola Tate exclaimed. "I wasn't expecting to see you anytime soon."

Victoire smiled, giving Lola a tight hug. "I'm sorry it couldn't be under better circumstance," she said kindly, patting Lola gently on her back.

"Hi, Teddy," Lola said, waving at Teddy. "I heard that you two had—"

"We're just working together," Teddy said quickly.

Victoire avoided Teddy's gaze as she stood in Lola's small flat. "Nice place," she said. "Where's, er…"

"Eddie," Lola replied, naming her live-in boyfriend. "He's visiting his mum in Bristol. She's been sick."

"Oh, Lola," Victoire said. "I'm so sorry."

Lola waved a hand carelessly. "Oh, it's alright," she said. "I suppose you want to talk to me about Gideon."

Teddy nodded somberly. "We're so sorry to interrupt you this evening to talk about this."

"No, it's no worry. Why don't you have a seat and I'll make us some tea?"

Victoire and Teddy sat next to each other on a small sofa. Teddy pulled out a notebook and a pen, flipped it open and wrote Lola Tate Interview on the top in his looping writing. Moments later, Lola arrived with a tray of tea and biscuits. She set the tray down, and seating herself across from her two interviewers.

"Lola," Victoire said. "Can you tell us a little about Gideon?"

Lola sniffed. "Well, he was ahead of us at Hogwarts. He's ten years older than me, you see. He graduated with perfect N.E.W.T.s and was going into the Auror office when my parents died."

"When was that?" Teddy spoke quietly, his pen scratching.

Lola thought for a moment. "They died right before I got my Hogwarts letter," she said. "Bit of a surprise that was, me getting a letter too."

"So…he took over the café after your parents…"

Lola nodded. "Yeah," she said. "The shop was where our mum and dad met, and they bought it after they were married. It's a nice little shop. We have coffee and tea. We get loads of tourists…" She trailed off, looking lost. Victoire sipped her tea, setting the dainty little cup with a tiny clink.

"Did he ever return to the magical world?" she asked.

"Oh, sure," Lola said. "We still have friends there, you know. We see them quite often, for holidays and such. I just saw Elsa the other evening, Vic; she came by the shop to check on me."

"Is Gideon married?" Teddy inquired.

Lola smiled. "He's a bit of a free spirit. He's had girlfriends and such, but no one that stands out. The last girl he was seeing was a Muggle, and that was over a year ago. Don't see how she could be dangerous."

"What's her name?"

"Um… Janet something. I can find out later, if you want."

"Don't worry about it," Teddy said. "Does Gideon live here?"

Lola shook her head. "Good heavens, no," she replied. "I live here with Eddie. Gideon has a flat above the shop. I can take you, if you'd like."

Victoire nodded vigorously. "Yes, we'd like that very much!"

"Later," Teddy said. "Lola, do you think you could tell us what Gideon had been doing the few days before he went to St. Mungo's."

"I can tell you some. I don't know everything he did."

"Let's start the week before he went to St. Mungo's," Teddy said. "He was admitted on July four. What was he doing June 27?"

"Hm, let's see." Lola closed her eyes, as if blocking out Teddy and Victoire would help her remember. "That was a Wednesday?"

"Yes," Victoire replied.

"Wednesday is when our milk order comes in," Lola replied. "Both Gid and I get to the shop at four in the morning to meet the distributor. It's a big order, so we both need to be there to unload."

"Was anyone else there with you when the milk arrives?" Teddy asked.

"Yes," Lola said. "Our café manager, Geeta, was there. She usually takes the inventory the mornings when we get the milk, makes sure we get enough for the next week."

"What does Gideon do while Geeta's taking inventory?"

"He helps the distributor unload the milk cartons," Lola replied.

"What did he do after that?"

"Well, we both usually stay at the café while it's open. He was there the whole day. He's front of house, ringing people up and wiping down tables."

"What time does the café close?"

"Six in the evening."

"And then what did you do?"

"Gideon, Geeta and I closed up the shop," Lola said. "And then I came home. Eddie had made dinner."

"Did Gideon tell you what he did that night?" Teddy asked, scribbling furiously.

"He went to visit some old school friends in Diagon Alley," she said. "Elfreth O'Connell. He was in Gid's year at Hogwarts—older than me."

"Does Gideon go to Diagon Alley…often?" Victoire interrupted. "That is to say—"

Lola's eyes narrowed. "I know it's a bit—" she paused, "—unusual for magical people to see us taking over our mum and dad's Muggle business…"

"No, I'm sorry," Victoire interjected again, much to Teddy's chagrin. "That didn't come out right. What I meant was, does Gideon still…use magic?"

Lola nodded fervently. "Yes!" she exclaimed. "Yes, we both do. I said that earlier."

"Where are your business accounts?" Teddy asked.

"Pardon?"

"Your bank accounts," he clarified.

"Well, we have Muggle bank accounts for the café," she said. "For tax reasons, you see. But we both keep our personal accounts at Gringotts still."

"And was Gideon at Gringotts the week before he was admitted to St. Mungo's?"

"I'm not sure," Lola answered. "He goes to Diagon Alley all the time for errands, to see friends, to have a pint at The Leaky Cauldron."

Both Teddy and Victoire looked at each other, their expressions unreadable.

"Okay," Teddy said, looking back at Lola. "What happened the next day?"

"Gideon seemed fine," she started. "Geeta and I opened up the café together, and when he got in after his appointment at the Ministry, he seemed normal and—"

"He had an appointment at the Ministry?" Victoire interrupted. Lola was starting to look annoyed at the constant stream of interruptions.

"Yes."

"What for?" Teddy asked.

"Didn't say," Lola continued. "And he seemed normal. He did his same daily tasks, and when we closed, he said he was going home to rest."

"Busy day at the café?"

She chuckled. "Every day is a busy day at the café."

"So why rest that day?"

"He was probably tired."

"Okay. Does anything stand out to you from that day to when Gideon was admitted to St. Mungo's?"

Lola held her teacup in two hands, her eyes focused on Teddy and Victoire. She looked like she was deep in thought, and then, slowly, she shook her head. "Nothing. He did more of the same. Went to see friends. Went to Gringotts once to take out some money. He needed new dress robes for a wedding so he went to do that. It wasn't until Tuesday that I even noticed something was wrong."

"What do you mean?"

"He didn't come to open the café," Lola said. "I figured he had another appointment that day, so I opened up again. When he didn't show up by noon, I started to get worried. I went to his flat, and there he was…" Her face whitened. "He was in agony. I haven't ever seen him that way before. I made a Pain Begone Potion, but nothing seemed to work. Any of the usual charms I tried failed. So I told him to go to St. Mungo's the next day."

"And the rest…"

"..is history," Lola said, biting back tears. "I haven't seen him in over a week. They won't tell me how he's doing, just that he's in quarantine."

Victoire paled. She hadn't known this. She hadn't know that families were being kept deliberately in the dark while the Healers figured out how to counteract the illness affecting a hundred or more Muggle-born patients.

Teddy closed his notebook. "Thank you, Lola," he said kindly.

"Wait!" Lola cried. "Aren't you going to tell me how…how he's doing?"

Teddy and Victoire exchanged terse glances, then looked back at Lola.

"We don't know more than you do," Victoire said, hoping she wasn't blushing. She was a hopeless liar, never having been able to tell even the smallest fib. Lola's face fell.

"Well…will you owl me if you learn more?" the young woman asked. "Please?"

Victoire nodded. "Yes, Lola. Yes, I will."


Harry Potter, Head Auror, was a busy, busy man. He stared moodily at a heavy sheaf of papers on his desk, willing himself to pick up the top report and read it. He hated to admit it, but being Head Auror was less exciting than the magical world imagined. While he did occasionally get to bring in notorious dark wizards, he primarily managed a team of highly capable Aurors in the field. The towering stack of papers were reports from his recruits, and he had to read all of them in order to report to his boss, the Minister of Magic.

You'd think Minister Granger would cut me a little slack, he thought grumpily as he finally picked up a report and began reading. He knew that, of course, Hermione Granger, his best friend for nearly thirty years, expected excellence, even from her friends. Even from her best friend who had defeated the dark wizard Voldemort over twenty years prior. She was a tough but fair manager who expected regular updates on the work that Harry had been doing since he was twenty years old.

Now over forty years old and a father of three, Harry Potter moved a little slower than he had in his youth. When he was younger, he had been eager to serve, his youth and experience in defeating the greatest evil wizard to ever live driving him to prove that his past exploits hadn't been mere luck. He had served in the field for nearly fifteen years, dueling other dark wizards, testifying against former Death Eaters, investigating mysterious murders and above all, ensuring that no one else gained the kind of power that Lord Voldemort had been able to.

In the last five years, however, Harry had noticed that he was losing a bit of his speed and agility. On an operation in Morocco, he had been struck with a Slicing Spell and spent months recovering. After that, his wife had demanded that he take a step back from field work.

"You're a father, Harry," Ginny had said stubbornly, her arms crossed over her chest.

"I know," Harry said. "And I want my kids to live in a safe world! A better world than the one we lived in."

"I want our kids to have a father," Ginny retorted. "I want you to see all of our kids graduate school, fall in love…become parents themselves! Don't you want that?"

"Of course I want that! How dare you accuse me of not wanting that?"

"Then fucking act like it!"

They had glared at one another fiercely in Harry's office. He might have been embarrassed at his colleagues hearing their raised voices if he hadn't been so angry at Ginny in the first place.

In the end, Ginny convinced him to try a desk assignment until he was ready to return to the field. His wife's open relief at having him home every evening combined with his children's glee had been enough: he'd made the post permanent, and been promoted to Head Auror shortly after.

A knock at his door pulled him out of his daydream. Jamila Khan, his second-in-command in the field, was poking her head in.

"Hey, Captain," she said, striding in. "The Romania team is here, waiting to brief you in thirty minutes. You ready?"

Harry nodded, opening a drawer and pulling a bulging file out. "I read it last night," he said. "Some pretty dark stuff."

Jamila glanced around, making sure no one had overheard him. "Let's talk when we get into the secure meeting room." She turned to move away, but Harry called after her.

"Lieutenant!"

"Yes, Captain?"

"How's my godson doing?"

Jamila frowned. "To be honest, Captain, this Romania operation is priority number one for the department. But I haven't seen Lupin yet today. He must be out doing interviews and sorting the files."

Harry nodded. "Very well. Owl him when you get a moment, will you? I want to check in with him prior to…"

"Yes, sir," Jamila said, and with a turn, she was gone, striding down the hall.

Harry sighed, pulled open the Romania file and began reviewing the documents before the debrief.


Teddy didn't go into the office the morning after he and Victoire had visited Lola Tate. He woke up in the drawing room at Grimmauld Place in the earliest parts of the morning. From the windows facing the small park, he could see pale strands of sunlight coloring the darkened sky. He rolled over, now facing Victoire on her own dusty sofa across from him. Her arm hung gracefully off the makeshift bed, her knuckles nearly grazing the floor. Her eyes were closed, the lids bluish. The sound of her soft breathing soothed him, and he closed his eyes again, listening to her breaths. If he hadn't been in this dingy old house, he might have been back in the Head Boy's suite at Hogwarts, listening to Victoire breathe softly next to him.

He didn't recall falling asleep, but the next thing he knew, he was dreaming.


He was waiting for the Hogwarts Express, but he was himself—age twenty two, tall and lanky, with bright blue hair. He felt a small hand slip into his, and he looked down. A small girl with pale blonde hair and huge blue eyes stared up at him. Victoire as he remembered her at age five, complete with the skinned knees and that dumb monkey backpack she loved so much.

"Where are we going?" she asked cheerfully, tugging on his hand and swinging it around wildly, to and fro.

He cleared his throat. "I'm going away," he replied.

"Where to?"

"With my mum and dad."

"Can I come, too?" She paused. "I promise I'll be good. I won't run inside anymore, and I'll wash my hands before supper and—"

"You have to stay here," Teddy said, now crouching down in front of her.

"What if I don't want to?"

"You must."

"No."

He heard the train and he stood up to look at it, but he couldn't see anything. A thick mist had covered the platform. He looked back down at Victoire. She was crying now.

"Who will take care of me?" she was saying over and over. "I need help. I need help."

"You can take care of yourself," he said. "You're a big girl now."

"But I need help for this." She pointed at her chest, and a crimson bloom of blood began to spread rapidly over her chest. His heart began to race as he reached down for her. But the mist was too thick, and it swallowed her up completely.


He felt the press of five long fingers on his upper arm. He opened his eyes to see Victoire sitting there in her pajamas. Her bare legs were level with his eyes, but he forced himself to look upward into her face.

"Teddy?" she said, her face concerned. "Are you okay?"

He scrambled up too quickly, making himself dizzy. "Ow!" he said, dropping his head into his hands. "Ughhhhh."

"You were talking in your sleep," she said. "And thrashing about."

"Oh, er, it's nothing."

She looked skeptical for a moment (or maybe he imagined it?), but she stepped back, falling back on the sofa on which she had slept. "It's nearly nine," she said. "We should get going."

"Right. I'll get ready."

"Er…I could use a shower," she said. "I don't suppose you'd know where there are towels in this creepy place?"

Teddy paused, then spoke up. "I don't suppose you'd want to have a shower at my place?"

"What if someone shows up looking for me?" she said. "I'm sure my parents have already talked to Aunt Ginny…and Gran…"

"I think it'll be alright," Teddy said reassuringly. "We'll only be there for a second."

Teddy wasn't expecting the two owls waiting for him in his bedroom. He heard the shower hiss on, heard the water splashing down on the white tile, heard Victoire swing the shower door shut with a massive creaking noise. A snowy white owl was sitting on his desk, looking at him reproachfully.

"Hello, Tully," Teddy said, giving the owl a treat as he removed the letter from the owl's talons. Tully crunched the treat, gave Teddy an affectionate nibble and flew out of the open window. Teddy unrolled the letter, reading Bill Weasley's familiar, spiky handwriting.

Teddy,

I hate to write to you under such circumstances, but Victoire has run off. She was staying with her grandparents. They mentioned that you had arrived at The Burrow, and she disappeared that night. We think she might be with you.

If she is with you, please have her return home to Shell Cottage at once.

Best wishes,

Bill & Fleur

Teddy stared at the letter in dismay. He hadn't thought, after nearly a year of silence, that Bill and Fleur would have thought to owl him directly over Victoire's whereabouts. Victoire had sent an owl to her Gran and Grandad assuring them that she was fine, but that she wasn't going to share where she was or what she was doing.

Debating on whether or not to respond to the letter, he turned to the owl posted on the windowsill. As he directed his attention toward it, the creature stuck out its leg in a rigid fashion, allowing Teddy to remove not one but two letters from its limb. The owl shook its feathers roughly and soared out the window. Tully remained, watching Teddy. Teddy unfurled the letter, this one on the familiar pale yellow Ministry of Magic letterhead.

Lupin,

Let's check in on Thursday at 2 pm. I want to see what you're doing, and I need to brief the boss on what you've found. We'll meet in my office at the department.

Jamila Khan

Auror

Department of Magical Law Enforcement

Ministry of Magic

Teddy checked his had a few hours before he needed to brief Jamila on what he was finding. It was enough time to do at least two more visits with patients' family members. He was hoping none of them would be as mysterious or lacking as their session with Lola Tate last evening. Tossing the letter on the bed, he cracked open the letter, his eyes widening as he read the looping, uneven penmanship, astonished.

Teddy,

I hope I didn't cause too much of a problem with Victoire the other night. You haven't owled or called to tell me you're working at the Ministry now. Let's have lunch. Owl my office to set up a time.

Yours,

Hannah

He goggled at the letter, surprised that Hannah had thought to write him. When he had last seen her nearly a week ago, she had run into Victoire on his front porch, leaving him in a cloud of embarrassment and shame.

He wasn't sure how long he had been staring at Hannah's letter when Victoire interrupted him.

"What's that?" she said from the doorway of the bedroom.

Startled, Teddy crumpled the note and shoved it into the pocket of his jeans. He turned to see her leaning against the doorframe, wrapped in a towel printed with tiny broomsticks. Her damp hair clung to her bare shoulders in thin, curling tendrils. The towel barely skimmed the tops of her thighs.

"N—nothing," he stammered, averting his eyes back to the other letters on the bed. "Just some-" he cleared his throat "—work stuff."

She crossed the room, and he caught a whiff of her rose shampoo as she passed him. He closed his eyes ever so briefly, letting himself remember easier times with her. Before everything got so messed up. She picked up the letter from the bed, looking over the letter from her parents.

"I can't believe this shit," she muttered, tossing the letter back on the bed and taking an uneasy seat on the edge of the bed. "Did you write to them?"

"No, of course not."

"Please don't," she said. "All they do is worry and fret. It's such a bother having them worry all the time."

"They have a pretty good reason to be worried," Teddy pointed out. "It's not every day you uncover a massive, magical public health conspiracy."

She shrugged one bare shoulder, her hand holding the towel up. "We haven't uncovered anything yet." She stood up. "We should go. We need to talk to Mollie Foster's family."


Victoire privately wondered if Teddy was just humoring her in doing these interviews, and if his true aim was to establish a firm platonic friendship between them once and for all. He seemed to be operating under a code of professionalism that Victoire had never seen from him before, and she didn't know (or care to ask) whether he was doing it because he now worked for The Boy Who Lived or whether he was truly telling her, in his way, that he definitely didn't feel that way for her any longer. She thought this as she glanced over at him, the sunlight turning his turquoise hair into a bright, neon blue.

They were standing on a quiet lane somewhere in Kent. Posh houses lined the street, each with its own towering gate.

"A bit rich, these Fosters?" Teddy said, squinting against the midmorning sun. He pulled out the file on the patient, a young woman of about thirty, and peering at the parchments inside.

"It seems so," Victoire said, sighing and looking up the lane. "It's that house, I think." She pointed to a house where the gate was flanked by statues of gleaming brass lions.

"She wouldn't be a Gryffindor, would she?" Teddy said as they approached the gate.

Victoire looked around the gate, puzzled. "How are we supposed to get in?" They both stared at the small box with a little red button on it. "Do we…push this?"

As if someone had been watching them, a crackly voice boomed through the box. Both Teddy and Victoire leapt back in surprise.

"WHO'S THERE?" the disembodied voice said. "DO YOU HAVE AN APPOINTMENT?"

Victoire thought in horror at her grandad's advice. Never trust something if you can't see where it keeps its brain.

"Er, yes," Teddy replied to the box, nearly shouting in the direction of the crackling tones.

"Names?" the box said.

"Edward Lupin," Teddy replied. "And this is—"

"Veronica Watson," Victoire replied, thinking quickly. Teddy shot her a quizzical look, but the gate's slow, creaky open interrupted him.

"Enjoy your visit," the box said, now more quietly than ever before.

They gaped as the gate closed behind them. Both Teddy and Victoire had grown up not necessarily as children of means, but certainly not poor. Teddy's gran's house was comfortable, and Shell Cottage was small but homey. Mollie Foster's childhood home, however, was positively luxurious. A gravel path lined with meticulously trimmed hedges snaked its way up to the enormous front door.

"Merlin," Victoire whispered. "Who are these people?"

"We'll find out soon enough."

They strode up the path, climbed the steps to the front door, and Teddy raised his hand to knock. Before his knuckle could make contact with the oak, however, the door swung open and an old-fashioned looking butler stood at the door.

"Welcome, Mr. Lupin and Miss Watson," he said. "Let me escort you to the drawing room."

As they stepped into the house, Victoire was strongly reminded of Malfoy Manor, a home she had only been in once many years ago for a Hogwarts fundraiser. A wide, sweeping staircase with gleaming banisters split into two separate staircases. A lush, Oriental carpet rested below her sneakers, and she spied a number of lavish, tasteful details just in the foyer: a jade-colored vase, an elegant painting and a tall table that she was sure was worth thirty Shell Cottages put together.

The butler led them into a side door, where they encountered an even more elegantly decorated drawing room.

"Please have a seat," he said, gesturing toward the brocade sofa. "Mr. and Mrs. Foster will be in momentarily."

Victoire took a seat, dropping her purse next to her. Teddy pulled out the file, his pen poised. A clock ticked loudly as they glanced around the room, noticing all the expensive furnishings and wondering what on earth this family must be like.

The door swung open again, and two people walked in. "Hullo," said Mr. Foster cheerfully, extending his hand to shake both Teddy and Victoire's hands. His wife, a short woman with graying hair, hung back. Her eyes were puffy and red, and she remained silent as she seated herself across from Teddy and Victoire.

"Thank you for taking our appointment so quickly," Teddy said apologetically. "And we appreciate you taking the owl. Our department is trying to get to the bottom of this as soon as possible."

"We're used to it by now," Mr. Foster said, waving a hand. "Mollie always had…" He trailed off as his wife let out a little whimper at Mollie's name.

"This shouldn't take long," Victoire said. "We're just wondering if you could help us track Mollie's steps the days before she was admitted to St. Mungo's."

Mr. Foster nodded. "Yes," he said. "Yes, we can certainly try."

"So—" Teddy paused, not sure how to ask this question. "What does Mollie do for work?"

Both Fosters looked briefly embarrassed, but Mr. Foster spoke first. "Mollie is…taken care of…for the rest of her life," he said. "If you know what I mean."

Victoire reddened. She loathed talking about money, and she especially loathed talking about it with people who had lots of it.

"What did she do with her days then?" Teddy said, trying to maintain a measured tone in her voice. "If she didn't need to work?"

"She helped manage our family's foundation. She's the head of the foundation now."

"What does she do day to day?"

"Pardon?"

Victoire interjected. "What does a day typically look like for Mollie?"

"Ms. Watson," said Mr. Foster in a patronizing tone. "Her days vary significantly. Some days she has meetings. Some days she is in the office all day."

"Where is the office?"

The two older people exchanged amused glances. "Why, right here, of course," Mrs. Foster replied. "The office is located in the house, in the east wing."

"We'd like to have a look at it after this interview," Teddy said. "Will that be alright?"

"Certainly." There was an awkward silence as Teddy shuffled his notes around.

"So…" More shuffling. "Mollie was admitted to St. Mungo's on a…"

"Friday," Mrs. Foster said, her hands anxiously twisting in her lap.

"Where was she on Thursday?"

"She was bedridden," Mrs. Foster replied. "She had an awful headache. We tried everything."

"Even magical remedies?"

Mrs. Foster raised her eyebrows. "Well, as you know, Ms. Watson, we are…non-magical people. Mollie's gift is entirely her own, and she was in no condition on Thursday to brew up a potion or cast any sorts of spells to help herself. We tried non-magic remedies"

"Does Mollie still have friends in the magical world?"

"Certainly. A number of school friends from Hogwarts. Some from abroad, at Beauxbatons."

"Does she see them regularly?"

"A few times a month, I'd say," Mrs. Foster replied. "She's quite involved in the…I'm not sure the word. The S.P.E.W Movement in…your world."

Victoire's ears perked up. "She's interested in elf rights?"

"Yes, she's quite passionate about it. She was thrilled when your Minister passed the Elf Freedom Act a few years ago—she had worked quite a lot on that project."

"Tell us what Mollie did that week."

"Well, she had a few meetings with grantees that week," Mrs. Foster said. "And she went to a party with a school friend in St. John's Wood."

"Any idea whose party?"

They both shook their heads. "That was Tuesday evening," Mrs. Foster mused. "On Monday, she had a few appointments in Diagon Alley."

"What kinds of appointments?" Teddy said, now listening closely. He had never quite appreciated what kind of a life Muggleborn witches and wizards lived; their lives were constantly straddling one world or another. They couldn't simply be in one world.

Both the Fosters now looked baffled. "I think she was meeting with some other elf rights people," Mrs. Foster said. "And then she needed to get her, er, wand repaired."

"Her wand was broken?"

"She said it had been behaving oddly since she had gone to the Ministry of Magic the week prior."

"Why did she need to go to the Ministry?"

"The foundation issued a grant to your Ministry a few years ago," Mr. Foster explained.

"Wait…what?" Teddy breathed, now astonished.

"Mollie persuaded us," Mr. Foster said, smiling sadly. "She was convinced it was important research that needed to be done. She went to go talk to our contact at the Ministry."

"Do you know who the contact is?" Teddy asked. "In which department?"

They both shook their heads mutely.

After a few more routine questions during which Teddy took furious notes, the Fosters led Teddy and Victoire across the foyer and into the official offices for The Foster Foundation. The office was ornately decorated, like the rest of the mansion, with a huge oak desk littered with papers.

"Mollie's office," said Mrs. Foster sadly.

Teddy, feeling extremely weird about combing through this woman's desk while her Muggle parents watched, was relieved when the butler arrived and invited the Fosters back out for their next appointment.

"Take whatever you need," Mrs. Foster said quietly. "Anything to get our girl back."

After they left, Victoire reached over for Teddy, squeezing his bicep hard. "Did you catch that about her wand acting funny? You think someone tampered with it?"

"Dunno," Teddy replied. "Let's start looking."

"For what?"

"Anything that might give us a clue."

After nearly fifteen minutes without finding anything, and fighting with a stubbornly locked drawer in the desk, Victoire let out a sigh of frustration. "What the hell could possibly be in her office drawer that is so important that the drawer is locked?" she huffed, yanking at the drawer.

"We could open it if we really wanted to," Teddy said in a hushed voice.

"Is that…okay? You won't be fired or anything?"

Teddy took out his wand and waved it. The drawer slid open smoothly, without a sound. Victoire knelt on the plush carpet, peering inside. Teddy knelt next to her.

"Doesn't look like much," she said, rummaging through a drawer. A leather bound day planner, some pens and a stash of romance novels littered the drawer.

"Give me that day planner," Teddy said, and she handed it over. He placed it carefully in his bag, and after they had closed the drawer, Teddy waved his wand again and heard the drawer lock again with a small, satisfying click.


"How could this operation have possibly gotten so urgent?" Harry demanded of Jamila. "What are our agents doing out there?"

"Captain," Jamila said. "Auror Jackson has reason to believe that there is a mole inside his unit in Romania. I'm not sure who or how it happened."

"One of ours or one of the Romanians?"

"Not sure, yet, Captain. We've been checking for leaks, but it really could be any one of us."

"We need to bring this trafficking ring down," Harry said. "It's extremely urgent that the supply runs dry. Merlin knows we don't need more vampires in this world." As he finished this sentence, a silence descended in his office as Jamila looked down, her hands twisting in her lap.

Over the last six months, the British Ministry of Magic had been called in to help the Romanian Ministry eliminate a trafficking ring that supplied a local contingent of vampires with a fresh blood supply—supply made up of young travelers, mostly Muggles, who were backpacking Europe. The vampires, in exchange, didn't feed on the locals or, more importantly, the crime families' children. Two young British women had gone missing over Christmas last year in the region, and Harry had dispatched a team of six newly trained Aurors to go undercover with the local crime families—both magical and non-magical families—to out the source of the trafficking.

But in the last month or so, two of the Aurors had repeatedly failed to submit reports, and now had stopped showing up to their scheduled meets with the head of the operation. Their safety was in jeopardy, and the head of the Romania operation, a bright young Auror named Deshawn Jackson, had called Harry with desperation in his voice.

The operation had failed. They needed an out.

"We should leave as soon as we can, Captain," Jamila said finally. "Tonight, if possible."

Harry thought back to his enormous workload, everything he had on his plate, his mind wandering until it settled on something.

"Have you been able to connect with Mr. Lupin?"

"Today," Jamila said. "He'll be in today to brief me. But…Captain…we really must go."

"Have him brief you first," Harry said abruptly, standing up and reaching for the vase that held glittering Floo powder. "I'll leave right after I go talk to my wife."

"But, sir!" Jamila exclaimed. "I really must insist you go with the group, based on the protocol."

"Who do you think developed that protocol, Lieutenant?"

And with a fistful of Floo powder and whirl of his robes, he was gone.


At noon that day, Teddy and Victoire took the Tube to a tall, nondescript office building in central London. Together, they stepped into the sleek, silver lift and punched the button for the topmost floor. They were alone in the lift, and Victoire let out a little sigh.

"What's up?" Teddy asked.

"We'll have to do a hundred more of these," she said, staring straight ahead. "Maybe more if more patients start coming in to St. Mungo's. We may never find out what's happening to them. What happened to Av—" Her voice hitched, almost as if she were hiccupping, but no hiccup came and instead she assumed the pact of silence they had taken since they hopped into the lift.

"Thirtieth floor," said a jarring, robotic voice, very unlike the smooth, silky one in the lift at the Ministry of Magic. "Going up."

"This is us," Teddy said. "Tim MacLeod's dad's floor." They debarked, stepping aside for a large crowd of men and women in professional business attire who mobbed the lift.

Teddy approached a sleek, modern desk with a young man behind it.

"Er, hello," he said. The receptionist kept typing, but spoke.

"Yes? What can I do for you?"

"We have an appointment with Mr. MacLeod," Teddy replied.

The receptionist pointed to the sign behind his back, a smirk starting to play about his lips. The sign read: MacLeod, MacLeod & MacLeod Real Estate. "Which Mr. MacLeod do you mean?"

"Er—" Teddy shifted his notes around with a rustling sound.

"Mr. James MacLeod," Victoire said, interjecting. She was starting to realize that she interrupted people. A lot. Maybe that's why I got dumped, she thought with a start, then removed that thought from her mind.

"Is Mr. MacLeod expecting you?" The receptionist still didn't look up, typing furiously on a slim, silver computer.

"Yes," Teddy said. "We have an appointment at—" He checked his watch. "—now. We have an appointment now."

The receptionist leapt up as if something had burned him. "Well, why didn't you say that earlier?" he hissed. "Come on!" And with a crook of his finger, he led Teddy and Victoire back through a maze of cubicles that strongly reminded Teddy of his offices at the Prophet.

"Here we are," said the receptionist, approaching a corner office with a stunning view of London. An older, distinguished looking man sat in a chair behind the desk. "Mr. MacLeod. Your lunchtime appointment is here."

The older man looked up, a grim look on his face. "Come in!" he said in a booming voice. "Shut the door, Reg."

Reg shut the door. Victoire and Teddy took a seat on a small, angular and uncomfortable sofa as Mr. James MacLeod took a seat across from them. He was tall, taller than he looked when he was seated behind a desk, and when he sat in the cubic chair across from them, he looked as if he was folding himself to fit into the chair.

"I guess you have some questions about Colin," Mr. MacLeod said before either Teddy or Victoire could speak.

Teddy nodded, his pen poised, ready to take notes.

"I'm afraid I can't help you, Mr. Lupin and Miss—er—"

"Watson."

"Miss Watson? Bit peculiar for a detective's assistant, now?"

"What do you mean you can't help us?" Teddy asked, leaning forward.

"Colin and I are estranged," Mr. MacLeod said, looking around nervously.

"Estranged?" Victoire repeated faintly.

"I'm afraid so."

There was an awkward silence.

"Mr. MacLeod," Teddy said, breaking the stillness. "We really must know if Colin made any contacts in the magical world prior to his…illness."

"My son and I haven't kept in touch since he graduated from that absurd school with no higher education," Mr. MacLeod said coolly.

"So…nearly fifteen years without contact?"

Mr. MacLeod nodded. Victoire stared at him. The man showed no sign of remorse. Instead, his cold stare bore into them, and Victoire let out an involuntary shiver. This man did not like magical people, and he had made that extremely clear to them.

"Is there anything you might know about any contact Colin might have had in the week before he was admitted?"

"Nope," Mr. MacLeod said. "But Reg can bring you the box?"

"The box?"

"The box of Colin's things. That's what you're here for, right?"

"Oh!" Victoire said. "Yes. Of course. The box. Yes. How can we get it?"

The older man sighed, unfolding himself and his long limbs from the chair and standing up. "I'll ask Reg to get you the box." He strode to his desk as they stood up, Teddy casting Victoire a curious look.

"Reg?" the man barked into the phone. "These two are coming back up. Give them Colin's things." He slammed the phone down.

"You can go get it from the front desk."

Teddy and Victoire left. They didn't see, after they had closed the door behind them, the old man bury his face in his hands and start to weep.


Authors Note(s):

1) Phew! This chapter is long (compared to the others). I had to fit a lot in, but I was excited to write more Teddy & Vic interacting with each other. And of course, Auror Harry!

2) Chapter's not edited or beta-ed either. Sorry for errors!

3) Write a review! Reviews will solve this mystery. :)