Auror H. Potter,
Please report promptly and immediately to the Office of the Minister of Magic.
Sincerely,
Caiaphas M. Caerphilly, Asst. Sec'y., OMM
"You may wonder why I've called you in?" Kingsley was looking very grave indeed, and Harry tensed instantly.
"What is it, sir?" he demanded, springing up excitedly from his chair to pace in tight circles on the Minister's very nice carpet. "Is it Death Eaters, sir? Or those little Neo-wankers from Birmingham way? I was so certain there were loose ends yet from that business—"
"No, Harry." Kingsley waved a hand at him. "No, that's not it. Have a seat again, will you? It's about your…partner, actually."
"Er…excuse me, sir?" Harry blinked at his old friend's kindly expression, instantly nonplussed.
"Auror Malfoy. Draco Malfoy."
"What about Malfoy, Kingsley? That business with his dad, you mean, and going off to Switzerland? Because I don't see the harm in it, not at all; the old bastard's not even got a wand to wave now—"
"No, Harry." The Minister's voice overrode Harry's babble with a firm rolling stomp; Harry shut it abruptly, his eyebrows winging a'loft in surprise. "Not that either. That's been dealt with. I've already dropped a wee word in our Head Probationary Wizard's ear. It's Auror Malfoy himself, Harry—you must go find him. Track him down."
"…Find him?"
"He's missing, Harry." The Minister fluttered larger-than-life fingers casually in the calm cool air of his opulent office, as if he were just mentioning the lovely weather or that it was near elevensies and would Harry care for a spot of tea? "Dead gone, this morning. Vanished as if he'd never existed; never reported in. He's not been absent or tardy once these past seven years; that's not like him. So, logically…he's missing."
"But...but I saw him for coffee!" Harry gasped, bounding up again. "He can't just have done a runner, Kingsley—he was in the lift with me! Not possible—"
"He never made it to his desk, Harry," the Minister replied staidly. "Now, it's like this. He's your partner, so you've first crack at it, before I alert Williams and set a team on it. Go out and find him, son."
"I—I," Harry stuttered, already at the door. "Yes, okay—on it, sir. You can rely on me."
"Good lad," the Minister smiled. "Best of luck, then."
"Thank you, Kingsley! Cheers!" Harry threw behind him, already clattering away in a furious bustle. He was up the lift and darting madly, halfway across the great tiled floor to the street-side access office before it struck him.
Walloped him sideways and gasping, this coincidence that wasn't a coincidence at all.
"…Those buggering buggers! Those bloody, scum-sucking, kidnap-happy ARP arseholes!" he roared aloud, instantly creating a minor and nasty silence in the Atrium. "They did this bloody fucking on purpose, didn't they? I'm going to murder that twat Parkinson, I am!"
