a/n: Please be courteous to other readers and do not include spoilers in any reviews. Thank you!
Chapter 25: Blood is Thicker
It took a moment - several moments - for Theo to stop pacing; Fleur, in the meantime, sat herself down on the bed, crossing her legs and letting her gaze follow him warily throughout the room.
"Your phone's buzzing," she informed him, gesturing to where he'd thrown it down on the duvet. "Draco's texting you."
"Yeah," Theo muttered, rubbing his forehead. "I just - I need to - "
He broke off, and Fleur shrugged, somewhat sympathetically.
"Take a minute," she agreed. "God knows that man could learn to wait."
Theo sighed, shaking his head.
"Was I too hard on the doctor?" he asked, spinning to face Fleur. "She's new to all this, and she's - " he grimaced. "You know. Normal."
Fleur shrugged again; this time it was nonchalance. "How normal can she be?" she prompted dubiously. "She knew what she was getting into when she met Draco, didn't she?"
"Nobody knows what they're getting into with this shit," Theo retorted, massaging the bridge of his nose. "Even I still fucking don't - and by the way," he interrupted himself sharply, recalling his earlier irritation. "Were you really not going to tell me about Marvolo Gaunt?"
Fleur said nothing, her expression coolly fixed, and Theo glared unhappily down at her.
"What's the point of swimming in the same fucking underbelly if you're just - " he faltered, stammering. "What's the point," Theo blurted out, "if you're just going to let me drown?"
The words had come out louder - firmer, or, perhaps, harsher - than he'd intended, but he steadied himself, readying for a fight. Fleur, on the other hand, leaned back onto her elbows, giving him a careful, scrutinizing glance.
"You're being unreasonable," she remarked eventually. "I gave you my reasons."
Theo stared, wanting to scowl at her, but found the effort hard to conjure; instead, he threw himself down on the bed beside her, bringing his hands to his face.
"I know," he muttered, the words smuggling their way through the gaps in his fingers. "I guess I just forgot you don't play for my team."
She let out a long, burdened sigh, and then rolled over, propping her head up on her elbow to look at him.
"I do," she murmured, resting her hand on his chest. "Not this team," she said, flicking lightly against his Dark Mark tattoo, "but yours. Your team. Ours." She swallowed heavily, shifting over to rest her head against his shoulder. "Perhaps I forgot for a moment."
Theo, who had never been particularly picky with apologies, found the statement satisfactory, smoothing her hair under his fingers; then he remembered, with a sudden flash of clarity, that he'd been in the middle of something before being held captive by an ill-timed existential crisis.
"Phone?" he prompted, and she reached over and handed it to him, slapping it down in his palm. He tapped on the messages, reading the one he'd sent - Ever heard of Marvolo Gaunt? - followed by Draco's response:
Yeah
"Verbose, Draco," he muttered, shaking his head as he freed his arm from around Fleur's torso, raising the phone over his face to type in an answer.
well who the fuck is he you dick, Theo replied.
"Succinct," Fleur noted.
I've got Potter on it. All I know so far is that he's the son of Morfin Gaunt, the ex-con they pinned the Potter murder on, and that he was born in Diagon.
Theo made a face.
that's all you know? why do you have potter 'on' it then
Theo watched as the screen indicated that Draco was typing; the pending speech bubble stopped, started again, stopped, and then there was a pause before his response finally came through.
I think the Bones murder and the Potter murders are connected. I don't know how yet, but I'm heading to the Manor to find out if Darian knows anything.
why? Theo asked, abruptly dislodging Fleur to sit upright. don't fucking get up to shenanigans without me draco, he warned furiously, or i'll break ur kneecaps
It's really more of a hijink
shut up
You shut up
Theo rolled his eyes, starting to type a response, when he got another message from Draco.
So how'd you hear about Marvolo?
fleur, Theo replied. she said tom's been using griphook to pay whoever that marvolo cunt is as part of a second transaction
You don't know he's a cunt.
I KNOW HE'S A CUNT
christ
don't fuck with me draco i'll
He stopped typing as a second text from Draco came in.
So I take it Fleur doesn't know who he is either, then?
no. she's never met him
Damn. Guess we have to wait for Potter, then.
ugh
Theo paused, letting Fleur draw circles on his spine, and then forced himself to continue.
btw your doctor thinks tom killed dumbledore
It took a minute.
What?
Theo grimaced.
hermione thinks tom killed dumbledore to take his place
I heard you.
Okay well... what the fuck
A tentative speech bubble, and then a pause.
Do you think she's right?
Theo paused, chewing his lip.
honestly i don't know what to think
Another pause.
I'll let you know when I leave the Manor. We can talk then.
That was about as expected, particularly since it wasn't a topic of conversation to be had over the phone, but Theo still found he was disappointed.
sure, he replied, secretly wondering if Draco would sense his lack of enthusiasm.
She doing okay? Draco asked.
Apparently not.
she's fine, Theo replied. your best friend was kind of a dick to her though. He paused, and then added, with an audible sigh: sorry.
He's generally a dick to me too
Theo let out something that might have been a laugh, or else a sigh of relief.
thanks, he replied. i feel better
Then you definitely misheard. I said you're a dick
Theo smirked.
sorry what?
Fuck, I hate you.
but ily draco
Stop it.
Not unpredictable.
Nothing out of the ordinary.
But still, Theo couldn't shake the feeling of something being inexplicably off; some extrasensory perception that if Draco were to investigate this, and to do it alone, that then something might -
Theo grimaced. Even internally, he couldn't quite finish the thought.
be careful, he started to type, but then shook his head, feeling stupid. I'm always careful, Draco would say, or else, when has being careful ever worked?
Hardly worth it. Instead he sent an emoticon of a dick, which Draco rudely ignored.
"How's it going?" Fleur asked, nudging him, and Theo set the phone down, turning to give her a long, searching look.
"Have I mentioned," he said slowly, "how pretty you are?"
"Oh god," she groaned, rolling her eyes. "What did you do?"
"Nothing," he insisted. "I'm just admiring yo- "
"I know I'm pretty," she cut in, shaking her head as she planted her feet on the floor and stood, pulling him up from the bed. "What's the problem?"
Theo rose to his feet with reluctant deliberation. "I'm a little concerned," he admitted slowly, "about Draco being alone." He paused, mulling over his phrasing, before determining there was no good way to say it. "I was sort of hoping I could talk you into babysitting duty," he rushed out, wincing preemptively as she made a face of utter repulsion.
"God, you two," Fleur said, rolling her eyes. "You're obsessed with each other. If I hadn't watched Draco go bananas over that doctor of his, I'd have a lot of quest- "
"Same underbelly," he reminded her, cutting her off with a finger to her lips. "You get it," he murmured, setting his hands on her hips, "don't you?"
He bent his head, kissing her neck, and she let her head fall back, dramatically sighing.
"Yes," she groaned. "And fine."
"You're an angel," he declared, taking her face in his hands and kissing her firmly before wrenching the bedroom door open. "You're my french princess, my belov- "
He stopped, eyes wide, as he noticed the vacancies at the kitchen table.
"Wh- " he began, and stopped. "How - "
"Well, now this is why you shouldn't babysit," Fleur lamented flatly. "It seems that you've misplaced the children."
"Okay, so," Hermione whispered, ducking her head around the corner and then gesturing for Cedric to follow as she made her way through St Mungo's west wing. "Admin offices are on the top floor, and - "
She paused, holding a finger to her lips and then pressing her back flat against the wall as Dr Pomfrey swept past.
"Why are we hiding?" Cedric whispered loudly. "Don't you work here?"
"Yes, but not today," Hermione hissed back, grabbing hold of him and pulling him along behind her. "They're not exactly going to understand the excuse that I'm possibly being hunted by a bunch of - shit," she breathed, ducking back into the corridor after catching the eye of the same Death Eater who'd been waiting there the night prior, his brow furrowing slightly as he saw her before lurching to his feet. "Come on," she said frantically, yanking Cedric into the now-familiar room down the hall.
"Oh, hello," Gilderoy said brightly. "I thought you were out with a case of the womanlies?"
"A case of the wh- " she began reflexively, but cut herself off. "You know what, nevermind," she assured him quickly, glancing over her shoulder as she caught the sound of footsteps proceeding from down the hall; Rowle, Draco had said the Death Eater's name was, though that wasn't particularly helpful information. "Gilderoy," she said desperately, glancing over at him. "You're some sort of actor, right?"
"A wizard, actually," he corrected tartly, "and a celebrated novelist. Though, more recently I have indulged in the comic arts," he permitted, "so - "
"Good enough," she ruled, rejoicing that the second hospital bed was neatly unoccupied. "I need you to act, okay? If someone comes in that door," she said, gesturing frantically as she threw the blankets over her head, "I just need you to pretend that I was never here, and - "
She cut off as the door opened, holding her breath as she saw the faint outline of a blond head peeking in from beneath the blankets.
"Did a woman just walk in here?" Rowle asked.
"No," Cedric said, as Gilderoy parroted, "a woman?"
"Yes, a woman," Rowle continued, stepping inside the hospital room. "Curly brown hair? She's a doctor here," he added. "Was a doctor just here?"
"No," Cedric said, which should have been sufficient, but dishearteningly was not.
"No," Gilderoy agreed loudly. "In this room there is only me, my gay lover, and death."
Hermione shut her eyes, fighting the urge to groan.
"Your gay lover," Rowle echoed, "and death?"
"Just his lover," Cedric assured the Death Eater. "Really, it's very normal."
"It's no such thing," Gilderoy protested. "My gay lover and I," he repeated firmly, "have only just been through a terrible trauma."
Hermione firmly swallowed a thousand expletives.
"Trauma?" Rowle asked skeptically.
"I have just discovered that whilst I have been lying here, cursed by immobility," Gilderoy orated with gusto, "my gay lover has been romancing the woman in the next bed. And I discovered this," he added, his volume rising, "because she died nary an hour ago, deep in the throes of passion, shamelessly entangled with this man, my gay lover - "
"Honey," Cedric cooed, through somewhat gritted teeth. "Darling. Please. This is all very private - "
"All while I slept," Gilderoy went on, wailing. "And while perhaps one unfamiliar with my inherent complexity would think I would be destroyed - indeed, driven to emaciation and madness, and a terrible, crippling muteness by such a devastating tragedy - "
"One would think," Cedric muttered under his breath. "Or rather, one would hope - "
" - I simply ache for them, these star-crossed lovers; for who am I to lay, helplessly inept, between two whom fate hath bound? To think, good sir, and to know in my heart of hearts that he loved her, and yet still she had the audacity to abandon him for the arms of death - "
"Sweetheart," Cedric said firmly. "You know I love you - "
"Hush, my gay lover," Gilderoy commanded. "There's no need to coddle me. I may be a man without a pleasing sexual orifice," he lamented, "but I am not a man without heart - nay, I am not without soul - "
"Clearly there are no doctors here," Cedric cut in, addressing the Death Eater. "No medical professionals whatsoever."
"You might consider calling one," Rowle replied grimly.
"How dare you stand there and fail to weep?" Gilderoy shouted at him. "Are you truly so heathenous as to not grasp the horrible twinings of this trauma? Are you so heartless as to remain unmoved by the cruel majesty of fate, and by the inconceivable knowledge that he loved her, and still she DIED - "
"Wonderful," Rowle interrupted, pointedly avoiding the bed Hermione had lain in and taking several long strides to the door. "Well, best of luck," he called loudly, and then, under his breath, "you fucking maniac," he added at a mutter, letting the door shut behind him.
Hermione waited, and then -
"He's gone," Cedric told her, and she lifted the sheets from her head with a sigh. "And excuse me, but what the fuck," he demanded, turning to Gilderoy. "What was with all that 'gay lover' stuff?"
"Realism, dear boy," Gilderoy sniffed. "People clamor for it."
Cedric paused, mouth tentatively agape, and then seemed to think better of it, cocking his head.
"Do you like pancakes?" he asked tangentially, and Hermione groaned.
"We have to go," she snapped, grabbing his arm and pulling him behind her. "Thanks, Gilderoy," she added over her shoulder, and he let out a winded sigh.
"No applause," he noted darkly, "but genius is ever cursed to suffer, trudging forward unacknowledged in its own time - "
"Goodbye, Gilderoy," Hermione said again, and yanked Cedric into the corridor after her, pausing briefly before darting towards the stairs.
"What's wrong with that guy?" he asked her, and she shook her head, breathing hard as she raced up the steps.
"Everything," she told him. "And also, inexplicably, nothing."
"Did he say he was a wizar- "
"Wait here," she said, throwing open the door to the stairwell and pausing as they reached the hospital's administrative offices. "Keep an eye out, okay?"
"Yes, fine," he muttered, and looked down, pulling his phone out of his pocket. "Ah, fuck, Fleur's calling - "
"We're fine," she told him. "Just - tell her I need a few minutes and then we'll be back. Just stay here, and - "
"Yes, yes, I've got it," he told her impatiently, picking up his phone. "Yes, my angel?" he said into the receiver. "Okay, shit, calm down - "
Hermione slipped inside the office, forcing a smile she hoped was innocent enough as she met the eye of the administrative assistant inside the main door.
"Hi," she offered, noting that the admin didn't look up. "I'm Dr Granger, and I just needed to look over an autopsy from a surgery I assisted recently, and - "
"Nobody's in yet," the admin cut in, raising her mug of coffee blindly to her lips.
"Sure, of course," Hermione said quickly. "I just - I'm a surgical intern and, you know, trying to learn," she lied. "Just wanted to see how procedure's recorded - "
The admin set down her mug, glancing up with irritation. "Nobody's in yet," she repeated.
"I'm sure I can find it myself," Hermione suggested hopefully, and the admin shrugged.
"Those reports are mostly for lawyers," she said, and Hermione's chest tightened apprehensively. "But fine," the admin conceded, returning to her mug of coffee and dabbing at what appeared to be a jam stain on her navy blouse. "Suit yourself, I suppose - "
"Thank you," Hermione rushed out, exhaling gratefully. "This office?" she asked, pointing to the door, and the admin nodded, turning back to her screen as Hermione slid inside and headed straight for the file cabinet marked A-D.
She picked up the file marked Dumbledore, Albus and opened it, her breath rising up uncomfortably in her throat, and noted immediately that the folder was impossibly sparse. She was certain from even the ambiguous description Theo had provided that Dumbledore's death would surely have led to all kinds of administrative headaches; an M&M conference, for one thing, which were not such common occurrences as to have escaped her attention. She flipped through for the EMT's notes first, glancing carefully over the scrawled handwriting.
GSW to the chest. DOA.
She blinked in confusion; if he'd died on arrival, how had -
She flipped to the coroner's notes; initially these seemed to match the EMT's assertion, but then the handwriting had changed, as if more had been added after the fact. The opening remarks were scribbled out, later replaced by a generic description of surgical error and a subsequent infection, and signed and dated two days after the incident.
Impossible, she thought, finding the two reports absurdly mismatched. The existence of both was fraud to the most inconceivable degree, or if not fraud, utter carelessness by administration -
Tom's dangerous, she heard Theo interrupt in her mind, scowling knowingly at her. He's powerful.
She glanced at the report again. GSW to the chest. DOA.
Impossible that both accounts could be true. She pulled her phone out of her pocket, taking a quick shot of the EMT report, and opened up a message to send to Draco before getting distracted by the sound of voices outside.
"Yeah," she heard behind her, and promptly froze, listening over her shoulder. "Brunette doctor, right? She's just in there."
"Ah, excellent," the male voice replied. "Thanks, darlin'."
Hermione swallowed hard, looking around for something to use as a weapon and then wondering, for the first time, when she'd learned that particular impulse.
"Do you need me to get her, or - ?"
"No, no, that's fine," Rowle replied. "I'll just wait out in the hall for her. No rush," he added slyly, and then Hermione heard the door shut, her breath returning in a sudden flood of panic.
She quickly pressed send on her phone before noticing she had a message from Cedric.
Death Eater's back on the floor, he'd said, rather unhelpfully at this point. Is there another way out of that office?
She grimaced. No, she replied, stuffing the file back into the cabinet and hurrying to her feet.
"Thanks so much," she called brightly to the admin, and then paused, lingering beside her desk. "I'm so sorry," Hermione added, feeling genuinely very regrettable, "but can I get you to do me one more favor?"
The assistant looked up, glowering. "What?"
Hermione cleared her throat, glancing nervously at the windowed panel of the door. Rowle, who was standing with his back against the opposite wall, fluttered his fingers at her, waving with an unnervingly cheery smile.
"Um," Hermione said, chewing her lip. "Can you page Dr Patil?"
"Hey," Draco said, walking into the shop's front office. "You're at it early."
Darian straightened, wiping his forehead with the back of his wrist as he looked up from a series of invoices. "Draco," he remarked, surprised. "How'd last night go?"
"Uh - " Draco paused, nearly swaying on his feet as he realized it had only been the night before that he'd gone to Greyback's warehouse. "Good," he said, somewhat unsteadily, and Darian arched a brow.
"Everything okay?"
"I," Draco replied, and grimaced. "I don't think I should - "
He trailed off pointedly, and Darian, who had a keen ear for secrets, nodded reassuringly, gesturing for him to sit at the office desk.
"Fair enough," Darian agreed, wincing as he lowered himself into the chair behind the desk. He paused for a moment, his gaze casually sweeping the desk's scattered materials, and then leaned forward, meeting Draco's eye. "Something else, I take it?"
Draco took a couple beats of silence, trying to gather his thoughts.
"This," he attempted slowly, "is going to sound weird. Or sudden."
"Ah," Darian acknowledged, and waited.
Draco grimaced.
"The Potter murder," he began. "James and Lily."
Darian's face contorted slightly.
"Ah," he said again, more uncomfortably this time.
Draco leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Is there anything," he asked quietly, "that you can tell me about what happened?"
Darian cleared his throat. "Is this - "
"It's important," Draco assured him, cutting him off without hesitation. "Really important. It's for - " he trailed off. "Well, it's for Potter."
At that, the corners of Darian's mouth twisted up in amusement.
"Potter?" he asked. "Really?"
"Don't," Draco said, rolling his eyes. "He did me a favor too, okay? And I'm just - "
"Investigating his parents' murder for him?" Darian supplied, arching a brow. "Hardly seems like a small favor."
Draco opened his mouth, and then paused. "So you know those are his parents' names, then," he noted, and Darian gave a nearly imperceptible flinch. "Did you already know that when you met him?"
That time, the flinch was unmistakable.
"Yes," Darian admitted. "But I didn't think it was important. I didn't know Potter or Evans very well," he explained. "We went to high school together, but that doesn't mean shit. Look at you and Weasley," he added pointedly, and Draco made a face.
"But you remember their deaths, then?"
Darian took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. "Yeah," he admitted. "I had just joined the club. Dumbledore was kind of shook up over what happened to them. Liked 'em," he clarified. "Potter's family were old money, big-time Diagon folk, but Potter himself was the oddball. Not into town politics, married real young. Kids real young," Darian added, pointedly referencing Harry. "Sort of a shock for the town."
"What about Morfin Gaunt?" Draco asked. "Did you know him?"
"No," Darian said, shaking his head. "Guy was in prison for, I don't know, ten years? Maybe? Then he showed up one day. Stain on the town's dazzling reputation, you know," he added snidely, rolling his eyes, and Draco let out a soft huff of agreement.
"So," Draco pressed. "You think Morfin killed the Potters?"
"That's what they told us," Darian supplied evasively. "Slughorn had just been made chief and it was his first high profile case."
"That's what they told you," Draco echoed, "and you believed it?"
Darian paused, fidgeting.
"You clearly didn't," Draco noted, and Darian shook his head quickly.
"I don't personally have any thoughts on the matter," he told Draco, a bit hastily defensive. "But I do remember that Dumbledore had some doubts. He tried for a while to clear Gaunt's name. Guy had a son," Darian pointed out. "Dumbledore tried to get Amelia Bones to look into the case so that the son wouldn't have to grow up bullied in school."
Draco frowned. "Bullied?"
"Everyone knew," Darian supplied bitterly. "Everyone. Poor kid's mother was an addict, the rest of his family was dead. His legacy was a fucking crime spree, so yeah," he confirmed. "Kids of respectable Diagon families weren't having any of it." He paused, thinking back to it. "Real skinny, hungry-looking kid," he recalled softly. "The name Gaunt suited him," he added, laughing darkly.
Draco brought a hand to his mouth, considering the information. "And Dumbledore tried to help him?"
"Tried," Darian confirmed pointedly. "But Bones was promoted and the prosecutor after her didn't really have an interest in shit outside of closing the case. With nobody to prosecute, there wasn't much there to make it worth his while," he clarified, and Draco nodded. "They just let the case go cold. Figured the guy responsible was already dead."
"Standard DPD," Draco agreed, and they exchanged conspiratorial glances.
"Eventually the kid was getting into trouble, and Dumbledore couldn't have him in the club. Tom hated him," Darian added, seeming to suddenly remember. "Fucking hated this kid. I heard him arguing with Dumbledore over it more than once. Well, once," Darian corrected himself. "But fucking loud, and there was a while there where Tom and Dumbledore weren't getting on at all."
Draco grimaced; he could hardly imagine them having a worse relationship than the one they'd had while he himself had been in the club. "And then what?" he prompted.
Darian shrugged. "Drugs," he said. "Fights. Expulsion. Juvie."
"Ah," Draco said. "The usual."
"The usual," Darian agreed. "Fell off the map when he was still a pretty young teenager."
"And then he left, right?" Draco prompted, and Darian nodded.
"Yep. Moved to - "
He stopped.
"What?" Draco asked, leaning forward. "Where'd he go?"
"Nowhere," Darian said uneasily. "I don't know."
"Oh fuck off," Draco scoffed. "Come on, Mulciber - "
"Nope," Darian cut him off sharply. "I told you. I don't know where he is."
Draco opened his mouth to protest, but Darian stopped him with a look; hold your tongue, Draco heard him say, ever the voice of warning.
That ear for secrets again, and with a tongue to match.
"Fine," Draco muttered, not entirely resigned. "So you saw him again, then?"
"Nope," Darian lied crisply, locking eyes with Draco.
Draco waited, holding his breath, and then let out a sigh.
"Fuck," he muttered, and Darian let out something of a mirthless laugh.
"What's your play here, Draco?" Darian pressed. "Because I can't really help you. I only know as much as the cops did. Or at least what they said they did," he conceded, and then held up a hand as Draco immediately opened his mouth. "The answer is no," he assured Draco. "That was not meant to be cryptic."
"But have you ever seen the details?" Draco retorted. "The cops fucking lied, Darian - "
"Well, big shock there," Darian cut in, scoffing. "But that doesn't mean I know anything. They died, it was tragic, and - " he broke off, shrugging. "It's just something that happened a long time ago."
"They were murdered, Darian," Draco said, surprised at his own volume as he rose sharply to his feet. "It wasn't an accident - it was planned, the shots were intentional - "
"And like I said," Darian said firmly, "I don't know anything about it. I know how fucked it was, Draco," he snapped. "I was there, I knew them, and I don't - "
He stopped, shaking his head. "If I knew anything about what happened to them, I would tell you," he exhaled, withering. "I fucking would. But I don't," he repeated furiously, "so sit down."
Draco froze, a violent response curdling on his tongue, when he took in the regret on Darian's face.
"Fine," he muttered gruffly, resettling himself in the chair. "What about Morfin's son, then? Marvolo?" he asked, clearing his throat. "While he was a kid, I mean," he clarified. "Did you ever meet him? Speak to him at all?"
Darian blinked, brow furrowing as his stare went blank.
"What?" Draco asked, frowning. "What is it?"
It took a moment for Darian's chest to fill, like he'd been holding his breath; he swallowed, shaking himself of an inexplicable paralysis, and then locked eyes with Draco.
"Did you say his name was Marvolo?"
"Thanks for stopping off with me," Harry said, and Ron shrugged, climbing out of the passenger seat and nudging his aviators down from the top of his head.
"No problem," he said. "Though - " he gestured to the folder in Harry's hand. "Going to tell me what we're doing here?"
Harry sighed, pausing as he turned to face him. "You're my partner," he said. "You know that, right? You get what that means."
"Yeah," Ron said, bemusement filling his features. "Yeah, I get it."
"So," Harry said slowly, "if I tell you - "
It took a moment, and then Ron nodded, seeming to grasp the point.
"Look," Ron said quickly. "I asked you to trust me, and you said you would. I promised to trust your judgment, and I will. Tell me," he beckoned. "Even if I won't like it."
Harry took a deep breath, nodding once.
"Slughorn gave me my parents' case file," he explained. "I asked Malfoy to help."
There was a twitch of concern in Ron's forehead, which he seemed to urgently attempt to contain.
"Okay," Ron acknowledged slowly, shoving his sunglasses up on the bridge of his nose. "Why him?"
"You know as well as I do the department's got nothing," Harry said, and Ron grimaced in agreement. "I needed someone who was going to, you know - "
"Work around the system?" Ron prompted, and Harry winced, but nodded. "I mean, I get that," Ron permitted. "But he's a Death Eater, so - "
He trailed off pointedly, and Harry sighed.
"I think," Harry said warily, "that I can trust him not to put that first. I know," he added quickly, shaking his head before Ron could speak. "I know 'they've all got the same venom' or whatever snake metaphor you want to use - "
"No," Ron interrupted. "No, I wasn't - " he paused, letting a moment pass. "I'm not good at metaphors," he said eventually, giving Harry a weak smile, and Harry gave a similarly underwhelming chuckle. "I just - if you trust him, fine," Ron said, and shrugged. "If you do, I do. I hate him," he added brusquely. "I definitely still hate him - "
"Fair," Harry agreed.
" - but, you know. Maybe," Ron said. "Maybe in this one instance, he's not the most god-awful prick on earth. Or maybe he is," he amended, "but he's at least a useful one."
Harry clapped a hand around his shoulder, nodding appreciatively. "I know this is big for you," he said, nudging Ron towards the courthouse. "But you're in?"
"I'm your partner," Ron said. "Right?"
"Right," Harry said, relieved. "So - "
"So what's Malfoy got here?" Ron pressed, gesturing to the folder. "What are we here for?"
"Need these records unsealed," Harry said. "Trying to get Thicknesse to sign off on it."
"Huh," Ron said, mulling it over as they reached the clerk's desk. "For?"
"One sec," Harry told him, and then turned to the law clerk. "Deputy Chief Potter for Judge Thicknesse? I called earlier. This is Officer Weasley," he added, gesturing to Ron, and the clerk nodded warmly.
"Oh, sure," he said, gesturing toward the judge's chambers. "Go on in."
"Thanks," Harry said, and gestured for Ron to follow. "Shouldn't take long," he muttered, walking into Thicknesse's office. "Just need to get these unsealed, and then - oh, good morning, Your Honor," he offered, nodding as Thicknesse looked up from his desk. "I'm Deputy Chief Potter, and this is Officer Weasley - "
"Ah, Diagon's finest," Thicknesse said, rather pleasantly. "How may I help you, gentlemen?"
"Hopefully just a small thing," Harry said, and Thicknesse smiled indulgently. "I need a warrant to see an expunged juvenile record. The person in question is a witness in an open investigation," he explained, handing Thicknesse the file on Gaunt. "We're just looking to find out where he might be now, as there's no current address listed."
"Hm, should be simple enough," Thicknesse said, accepting the file and flipping it open. "We'll just have to - "
He broke off, catching the name in the file and frowning.
"This person," Thicknesse said, poring over the file. "He's part of an open investigation?"
"He was a listed witness in an aggravated assault case against Zacharias Smith," Harry supplied in answer, feeling an eerie sense of discomfort at the question. "I don't necessarily expect you to recall the details, but - "
"The defendant is no longer with us, is he?" Thicknesse asked, abruptly looking up. Beside Harry, Ron frowned, glancing askance. "Is this really necessary?"
Harry's discomfort elevated to alarm.
"Sorry to trouble you, Your Honor," he attempted quickly. "Draco Malfoy suggested I come to you, actually, as we think the person in question may play a role in another case the Diagon PD is investigating."
"Draco Malfoy," Thicknesse repeated uneasily, his eyes darting instantly to his phone. "Yes, okay," he muttered after a beat. "Let me just, um - "
Thicknesse rose suddenly to his feet, twitching toward the exit, and then promptly sat back down. "If you could just permit me a moment to call someone," he said. "I just want to be sure I'm following protocol. Just took over, you see," he added, forcing a spirited laugh, "so just let me double-check - "
He gestured for Harry and Ron to sit, and they tentatively complied, Ron's frown deepening as he glanced questioningly at Harry.
"Who's this about?" he mouthed, as Thicknesse entered a number on speed dial.
"Marvolo Gaunt," Harry whispered back, and Ron shrugged, not recognizing the name.
"Yes, hi, it's Pius," Thicknesse said into the phone. "Just wanted to let you know I've got Deputy Officer Potter in here with me asking about an expunged juvenile record." There was a pause. "Yes, it's for a, um," Thicknesse trailed off, glancing rather deliberately at the file. "Marvolo Gaunt." Another pause. "Yes, well, I thought it might be worth mentioning since Draco Malfoy suggested it, and - "
A long pause. Harry and Ron glanced uneasily at each other, both sensing something off about the slow loss of color from Thicknesse's cheeks.
"Right," Thicknesse said, pulling uncomfortably at his beard. "Right, thanks." He hung up the phone, forcing a smile as he turned back to Harry and Ron. "One minute, Officers," he said, and then turned to his computer. "Just have to get into the records here, and - " he paused, clearing his throat. "Five minutes," he assured them, rising suddenly to his feet. "You just hang tight, and - "
He trailed off, and then abruptly exited his chambers.
"Well," Ron said. "This is nice."
"This," Harry judged at a mutter, watching the door fall shut behind Thicknesse, "was probably a terrible mistake."
"What the fuck is going on?" Padma asked, handing Hermione her own lab coat and waiting as Hermione put it on, tucking her phone into the pocket. "I thought you called in sick this morn- "
"I need your help," Hermione whispered, pulling her into the hallway and pointedly not looking at Rowle. "Pretend you're briefing me on rounds," she added, frowning as she watched Rowle pick up his phone. "Wait, stop - "
"Ah, great, you've finally snapped," Padma noted drily. "While I'm relieved you're no longer my competition, I'd still love to know what's happeni-"
"Shh," Hermione whispered urgently, and then shook her head. "I mean, pretend to talk about medicine, but also, shh - "
" - now?" Rowle asked the person on the other line. "How many?" A pause. "Everyone? What do you mean Tom said t- no, I'm fucking listening, but who's still at the Manor?" Another pause. "Yes," he muttered impatiently, "I'm aware of my motherfucking instructions, but I - " A brief pause, and then a grunt. "Yes, she's here."
"Hermione, are you okay?" Padma asked, frowning at her. "Look, no joke, this is - this is weird, okay - "
"There you are," Dean said, materializing suddenly from the elevator. "I heard Patil got paged up here, and I thought you were - "
"I need help," Hermione said, swallowing as she glanced between them. "Please."
Dean's expression shifted rapidly from amusement to concern; Hermione glanced over her shoulder, pointedly letting her gaze settle on Rowle, and Dean followed her line of sight, nodding slowly as he recognized the look's significance.
"Okay," he said, his brow furrowed. "What do you need?"
Padma eyed Hermione silently, waiting for her to speak; Hermione, in turn, nudged them towards the elevator as Rowle stood, slowly following.
"I need to get out," Hermione whispered, and Dean and Padma exchanged glances.
"Done," Dean said, and Padma nodded.
"Let's go," she said, holding the elevator door open.
"This doesn't look good," Ron said, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. "Right? Looks shifty."
"Does," Harry agreed, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his phone. "Shit," he murmured, glancing down at it. "You get anything from Slughorn?"
"Huh?" Ron asked, checking his. "No."
Harry frowned, reading the text.
Death Eaters are prepping for something.
Discomforting news, at best.
What does that mean? Harry replied.
They're leaving the Manor, Slughorn said. En masse.
"Death Eaters are leaving the Manor," Harry said aloud, and Ron frowned.
"We supposed to babysit them or something?" he asked, scowling.
"Dunno," Harry replied, and dialed Draco's phone number. He paused, waiting, as the phone rang. "Malfoy's there now," Harry mentioned casually, though he wasn't quite sure what to make of that information.
Neither, it seemed, was Ron.
"Seems . . . good, though, right?" Ron guessed. "If they're being called away?"
The call went to voicemail, and Harry frowned.
"Not sure," he said, and then replied to Slughorn.
Is Tom with them?
He waited, tapping his fingers on his thigh.
No.
"Fuck," Harry muttered, feeling suspicion mount. "No, it's not good." At Ron's puzzled glance, Harry turned to face him. "Tom's not with them," he clarified, and Ron frowned.
"So?" he asked, and Harry rose to his feet.
"We might have to leave now," Harry muttered, shifting in apprehension and glancing at the door. "If Tom's sending them away, but he's not going - "
Harry trailed off, and Ron stood, though he looked no less bewildered. "So what does that mean?"
"It means," Harry explained emphatically, "that he doesn't want witnesses. If he's emptying the Manor but he's not also leaving himself, then - "
He abruptly stopped talking as Thicknesse re-entered the office, holding a file in his hand.
"Sorry for the delay," the judge said, looking oddly jittery. "Here are the records you were looking for."
"Thanks," Harry said, accepting the file from him and flipping it open. He stopped, his eye catching on the mugshot, and then forced himself to glance up and smile. "Thanks," he repeated, nudging Ron. "Have a good day, Your Honor."
"And you," Thicknesse agreed, as Harry attempted to unsuspiciously haul Ron out of the room.
"Well?" Ron demanded, pulling his arm free once they'd made it through the doors. "What are we - "
"Look," Harry said, shoving the folder into Ron's chest. "Look familiar?"
Ron flipped it open, scanning the page and pausing, as Harry had done, on the teenaged mugshot. "Wait a minute," Ron said, staring at it. "Is that - ?"
"Yes," Harry confirmed, grimacing. "But right now, we have to get to the Manor."
"Christ, Cedric," Fleur shouted into the phone. "Are you fucking kidding me? What do you mean you lost h- no, NO, you stop shouting!"
Theo looked up as there was a knock at the door.
"That him?" he asked, and Fleur glared at him, removing the receiver from her ear.
"He has keys, Theo," she reminded him sharply, and waved a hand, gesturing impatiently for him to get the door. "No, Cedric," she yelled into the phone, "YOU LISTEN TO ME - "
Theo walked to the door, checking the peephole and then groaning softly as he pulled it open.
"What?" he snapped, and Viktor grimaced.
"What the fuck are you doing here?" Viktor asked gruffly. "Thought you'd be heading to Knockturn with the others."
"The others?" Theo echoed, scowling. "What others?"
"CEDRIC, I WILL WEAR YOUR TESTICLES AS A HAT - "
"What's up with her?" Viktor asked, gesturing, and Theo shrugged.
"Girl stuff," he said, and Viktor rolled his eyes.
"Look, I need Fleur," he said. "That shit we got into Gringotts two days ago is getting moved today and I need her to check that the inventory's correct."
"And you came to personally collect her?" Theo observed drily. "You know she has a phone, right?"
"Oh, fuck off," Viktor said brusquely. "Just let her know, then, would you? Your other blond prick came in already - "
"'Other' blond prick?" Theo asked. "What the fuck are you going on about?"
"The older blond one," Viktor said. "You know. Beard," he said, gesturing. "Man bun."
"Lucius?" Theo asked, and Viktor shrugged. "Since when does he go to Gringotts?"
"Fuck if I care," Viktor said flatly. "Showed up with a fucking shitload of AKs and casings two days ago - "
"Lucius did?" Theo asked, disbelieving. "Two days a- "
He cut himself off, frowning.
Someone's already been here, Draco had said, his grey eyes wide as he'd surveyed the cabinet in Greyback's office. All the shit in here's been moved recently -
I applaud you on robbing me first, by the way, Theo heard Greyback contribute, reliving his wolfish sneer, but it won't matter, as I can see you're going to let me go -
Theo shook himself of the memory, staring down Viktor. "So you were just doing what, then?" he demanded. "Holding all that shit?"
"Yeah," Viktor confirmed, shrugging. "Happens sometimes when people need to move shit around. When they're expecting cops," he clarified, waving a hand carelessly. "That sort of thing."
"I get it," Theo said brusquely. "I just - " he paused, grimacing, before deciding to go with the graceless nudge to his subconscious. "Hey," he mused tangentially, and Viktor's expression soured in apprehension. "You ever done any work with Greyback?"
If Viktor was surprised by the question, he didn't show it.
"Nah," he said. "Not since some deal went to shit in the '90's. Griphook doesn't like him."
"What about his associates?" Theo asked. "Smith? Scabior? Really muscled," he explained, gesturing to his chest. "One's blond, horrible, smarmy. A real dick." Viktor shrugged. "The other's got reddish-brown hair, about this tall, usually sort of overdressed, uncomfortably large biceps - "
"Smith and Scabior, you said?" Viktor asked, and Theo nodded. "Nah. But the man you're describing sounds like the guy that came in with your head Death Eater once. Thought he was one, actually," he added. "Didn't have the same tat, but, you know. You all blend together. Name's Grant, though," Viktor recalled, frowning. "No, not Grant," he amended. "Definitely a G, though. Maybe - "
"Gaunt?" Theo asked, feeling the blood drain from his face.
Viktor snapped his fingers. "That's it," he said. "I remember thinking 'this guy's not gaunt at all,' and then - "
"He came in with Tom?" Theo pressed, and Viktor shook his head.
"No, not Tom. The old one," he clarified. "The dead one. Long time ago. They were having some sort of disagreement. Old guy wasn't interested - but then he died," Viktor recalled, as though that just occurred to him. "Shitty timing. Or good timing, I guess, depending - "
"Fuck," Theo interrupted, breathing hard. "Fuck."
"Yes," Draco said slowly, "Morfin's son's name is Marvolo Gaunt." He paused, watching Darian's expression dissolve to a bloodless fade. "I thought you knew him?"
Darian shook his head. "No," he emitted roughly, and then cleared his throat. "No," he clarified, more steadily this time. "I saw him a bunch with Dumbledore, but I've only spoken to him directly once. And by then," he continued, the words drifting into a deep, steadying breath, "he was already going by another name."
"Okay," Draco murmured, sensing Darian's discomfort and treading as lightly as possible. "But why does it matter that his name's Marvolo? What difference does it make?"
Darian blanched, and Draco looked down as his phone buzzed, seeing that he had a message from Hermione.
"Sorry, just a second," he muttered quickly, opening the image she'd sent. There was no message, only a photo of what looked like a medical report. "I don't know what this - " he broke off, zooming in as he saw the name Dumbledore handwritten across the top. "Is," he finished, his pulse racing as he processed the information.
Patient Name: Dumbledore, Albus.
Responsible Party: unknown.
Dispatch: emergent.
"What is it?" Darian asked, frowning across the desk.
Comments: arrived on scene at "The Manor," two witnesses present; Tom Marvolo Riddle, Lucius Abraxas Malfoy
Draco stopped, his breath catching in his throat as he read the same words over and over, at least ten times each -
Tom Marvolo Riddle.
Lucius Abraxas Malfoy.
GSW to the chest. DOA.
He blinked.
Looked up.
Blinked again.
Darian watched him, frowning.
"Marvolo," Draco managed to say aloud, forcing moisture to his throat as he swallowed. "That's - it's Tom's middle name, isn't it?"
Darian hesitated, and then nodded, pulling out a file from the desk and handing it to Draco. "I didn't know," he said quietly, and Draco felt his chest tighten, looking down at the business license that had been filed under the name Tom Marvolo Riddle.
"Who is he?" Draco asked, looking up at Darian. "Marvolo Gaunt. Who is he?"
He followed the motion of Darian's hand as it drifted up to the scar on his chest.
So, Draco had said the day Darian returned from the hospital, the first time he'd watched him rub that scar. It was Greyback, then?
Couldn't say, Darian had returned uneasily, not meeting Draco's eye. Knocked me out from behind first.
Even then it had been strange.
But if you were to guess, Draco had attempted, and Darian hadn't let him continue.
I don't guess, he'd said flatly, and Draco knew - he should have known - that there was more to the story.
"Draco," Darian said, and by the metallic edge to his tone, Draco was certain something Darian knew was far worse than he'd thought. "You have to understand," Darian urged, "I had no idea. If I'd known - " he shook his head furiously. "If I'd thought there was any fucking connection, I swear - "
"Who is he, Mulciber?" Draco interrupted, his mouth dry. "Who is Marvolo Gaunt?"
Darian hesitated, his mouth forming a tight, thin line.
"When Greyback stabbed me," Darian said, his fingers curling restlessly against the place where Tom Riddle's name had been carved into the skin of his chest, "he was there. He told me if I told anyone who he really was, I'd - he'd - "
"Scabior," Draco exhaled, putting the pieces together and instantly feeling sick. "It's Scabior, isn't it? He's related to Tom," he realized. "Somehow, they must be related, and - "
"That might not mean anything," Darian cut in quickly, but Draco rose to his feet, kicking the chair aside and pacing.
"Should have known," Draco growled. "What the fuck kind of name is Scabior, anyway, and - " he spun quickly, rounding on Darian. "And what about Dumbledore, then?" he demanded. "Did you know about him, too?"
"What about him?" Darian asked, looking genuinely bemused. "I already told you, he'd tried to help Scab- Marvolo," he amended, "but it wasn't - Tom was - "
"What's my father's role in this?" Draco pressed, slamming a fist down on Darian's desk and leaning towards him. "He's glued to Tom's side," he ranted, "he had to've known - "
"I don't know, Draco, but please," Darian urged, reaching for him. "Calm the fuck down - nothing good can come of this - "
But Draco was rattled, unsettled and jittery, and all the murder and loss and fear and the troubling lack of sleep had built up and crashed atop his head, manifesting in a dizzying strike of certainty.
"I have to find my father," Draco said, shaking his head firmly and taking three rapid strides backwards, heading for the door. "I have to speak to him now."
"Draco," Darian shouted behind him. "Would you just fucking stop for a second - "
But there was no turning back. Draco threw the office door open and headed for the boardroom, the sound of blood rushing in his ears.
a/n: Again, PLEASE NO SPOILERS if you leave a review! Chapter 26 coming shortly. Dedicated to smileyluvstwilight, theblade-and-thewhelk, and estrunk!