10.5) Ransom

Selected Listening: Your Story is Our Story- James Newton Howard

It was on an ordinary April afternoon at St. Mungo's hospital that Mr. Kingsley Shaklebolt knocked on the office door of Dr. Narcissa Malfoy, Head of Wizarding Genealogy. She glanced up from her paperwork once, turned back to it, and then her head shot up in confusion.

"And to what do I owe the pleasure, Mr. Shaklebolt?" She said shrewdly.

"Good afternoon to you to, Dr. Malfoy" He walked in and glanced at a vase of flowers on her desk. He went to pick one up—

"Don't. Touch. Those." She said, continuing her quill scratching. He pulled his hand away.

"Not to worry, I won't be in your presence long. I'm here to ask about a witch's birth certificate. Young woman who goes by the name Ana Green."

She lifted her head with a raised eyebrow.

"Never heard of that one before. It's rather plain. What's that family, Hufflepuff?" She asked and turned to a file drawer labeled G to begin rummaging. She found the file she was looking for, and then shook her head.

"No. There's no Ana." She said. "What do you need it for?"

"Ministry reasons." He said. She made an amused noise. "I'm certain it must be here. She would have been about your son's age."

At this, Narcissa froze, and looked slowly over her shoulder.

"Would have been? Is she dead?" She clarified. Kingsley's eyes shifted and then he shook his head.

"Not that I know of." Which was true…

Narcissa gave him another shrewd glance, but this time more worried than before.

"Well, Mr. Shaklebolt, it seems I cannot help you…you know as well as I do that most records from 1979 and earlier were burnt by You-Know-Who. It could have easily been one of those."

"Yes…" He said looking over the office again. "Well, I suppose there's no point in bothering you further, but should you happen to find something please let me know, the matter is quite…pressing."

She stared coldly at him for a moment longer.

"I'll let you know."

Kingsley paused before he exited.

"You know, doctor. I found it odd, that you claimed not to be in this office on the day that You-Know-Who burned it down…along with Holly Sinclaire. It seems strange, that a patient was in your office with confidential information while you were unavailable."

She glared from underneath her reading glasses.

"People go sneaking, Shaklebolt. How should I know? Maybe little Holly the Hufflepuff was working with You-Know-Who all along…maybe she is the one who leaked information from your little Dumbleclub." Kingsley scoffed.

"For Merlin's sake, she was your—"

"Are you done? Or will you continue to bring up painful memories and ask me about imaginary young witches just to pry?" She snapped.

Appalled, and rather exhausted from all the strange interactions that day, knowing he had one more to go, Kingsley dawned his hat.

"Good day."

Albus Dumbledore sat in his armchair next to the fireplace of the headmaster's suite reading a book on the philosopher's stone by his dear friend, Nicholas Flamel. A cup of hot toddy sat at his side. As much as he enjoyed the quiet, he missed his granddaughter and wished she would return soon. He had no pictures of her, as he refused anyone who tried to take them. Of course, Minerva protested several times, but he insisted Anastasia remain a complete secret to the outside world. Any leaked documents could ruin everything.

In a flash, the flames of his hearth turned green, and Mr. Shaklebolt's face appeared in the flames.

"Albus." He said seriously.

"Yes? Kingsley, grand to see you!" He noted the man's somber expression. "Or maybe not…"

"Who the bloody hell is Ana Green? And why is she being held for ransom in China?"

Albus's eyes widened for just a second, and he took a sip of his drink to adjust his expression discreetly.

"Not sure who you're talking about."

"Bullocks! These men, they're asking for gold, lots of it. We don't negotiate with terrorists, Albus. We have to get her out another way."

"Kingsley, I don't think you should worry about this." He attempted to brush it off.

"Don't worry? There is a young witch who requested I speak with you like it was some kind of secret code, and her life hangs in the balance…she told me to tell you she's sorry? I think there's reason enough to worry." Kingsley was growing quite tired of everyone's nonsense, and he wondered if he was possibly the only sane person in the wizarding world.

"I will take care of it, Kingsley." Albus said with as charming of a smile he could give while his heart pounded out of his chest.

"Albus as much as I trust you, I find it odd—"

"If you trust me, then there's no reason to worry."

Kingsley buttoned his lip and was silent.

"Trust that the girl will be taken care of and will be safe as soon as I can make it so." And just as he said that, an owl fluttered to his windowsill.

Kingsley sighed.

"Fine. I must be off. Please alert me once the girl is safe."

"You have my word. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, headmaster." Kingsley said, shook his head, and disappeared into the sparks.

Albus sprinted to the black, mottled owl at the window. He picked the scroll out of its claws and unrolled it, expecting an explanation from Newt.

Headmaster,

A certain person became aware of your ward's existence and came to my office asking questions. I believe we had an agreement. I suggest you hold up your end of the bargain, about keeping that ward anonymous. Should I discover anything nefarious has happened to her, a reign of rage you have never known will come falling on your head.

Cordially,

-N

Albus rolled the letter up and swallowed.

It was time he go to China.