July 2002
"Oi! Creevey! Conference room Billywig! Get a move on!" was the first thing the newly-minted Junior Auror heard as he entered the Auror Office. Of all the days to be five minutes late.
"Had a bit too much fun celebrating your graduation with your mates, eh?" teased Owen, laughing outright at the black scowl on Dennis's face. "Shut it, Cauldwell," he muttered, before brightening as his friend took pity on him and shoved a cup of coffee in his hand. "Cheers, Den!" laughed the sandy-haired young man as he chivvied him in the direction of the conference room, the one with the creaky door.
He really hadn't meant to get plastered on a Monday, only meaning to get in a couple of pints before calling it a night. But Natalie had walked into the Leaky just as Euan, Kevin, Eleanor, and Orla had toasted his new Junior Auror status so loudly that they could probably be heard in Knockturn Alley. And so, he'd come face to face with his ex-girlfriend for the first time in a year with the reason their relationship had ended echoing in both of their ears. Twenty minutes of stilted, polite conversation later; she'd smiled tightly at him before leaving for the entrance to Diagon Alley, back ramrod straight, and he'd seen a tall, brown haired man place a hand on her back in easy familiarity as they'd walked through. He didn't recognise the bloke, knew he had no reason to be pissed – it had been a year and a half and he'd been out on a few dates here and there himself – but it hadn't stopped the angry burn in his belly. So, he'd self-soothed by getting a different kind of pissed. Sue him.
Thoughts of Nat were still lingering on the forefront of his mind, but they were banished entirely when he saw Robards clear his throat. Eye on the prize, Creevey…
"Now that we are all here," Dennis coloured at the implied censure, "let us begin. Congratulations to the six of you for making it through training to become our latest batch of Junior Aurors. First order of business today is to assign you into partners and then assign your mentors – Aurors who you will be assisting and working closely with in order to really learn the ropes of how we do things around here. You've all had some experience with the on-the-job training you've received for the last six months, but now you'll be playing in the big leagues."
"Cauldwell and Creevey… you'll be with Potter and Weasley. Pritchard and Reynolds… you get Boot and Longbottom. Thomson and Thompson… you're with Ryder and Midhurst." Dennis's grin grew. He'd been hoping to get Neville, actually, since he knew him best from the Carrow days; but getting to learn from Harry and Ron was a real honour. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Lucretia Thompson and Ethan Thomson (funnily, no relation to each other despite the similarity in their names and appearances) shoot him mildly envious looks, but had no time to dwell on it because Robards was finishing up, his coffee was cooling unpleasantly, and Harry and Ron were heading towards Owen and him, smiling.
X-XXX-X
December 2002
Arthur and Molly Weasley
are delighted to invite you for the wedding of their daughter
Ginevra Molly
To
Harry James
Son of the (late) James and (late) Lily Potter
On
Saturday | 8th March, 2003 | 4:00pm
At
The Burrow, near Ottery St. Catchpole
Reception to follow
X-XXX-X
March 2003
Goddamn dress robes, Dennis thought, fiddling with his collar – dress robes were just about as uncomfortable as dress suits. This was the first wedding he'd attended, wizarding or muggle, so he was out of his depth. Still, the space was undeniably beautiful, even to his inexperienced eye. The tent in the garden was festooned with soft blossoms in shades of white, cream and pale pink, the same flowers interspersed with pearl beads in the canopy overhead; a charm blanketing the entire area in a gentle warmth scarcely ever seen in March. The entire space smelled pleasantly like a plant nursery. Ginny looked devastating – as she always did – in a slim cut lacy gown, no jewellery except for a tiara on her head and a sparkling diamond on her finger, and Harry was almost aglow with happiness, looking at her like she hung the moon.
He was dateless, but it wasn't so bad – he had George and Neville to hang out with, and as a natural consequence; Angelina and Luna were there too, an unlikely fivesome – Angelina because George and she were finally something (dating or shagging? George was being unusually tight-lipped on the matter) and Luna because… he wasn't fully clear on whether Luna and Neville were in a relationship or just friends, but they did spend an awful amount of time together. He'd kept an eye out for Demelza, hoping to see her again after so many years, but she hadn't showed. He felt a slight twinge of upset on Ginny's behalf that one of her closest childhood friends hadn't come for her wedding, but also a small sense of relief that he wasn't going to have to grapple with thoughts of Colin which inevitably arose when he saw Demmy. He was doing better with his Colin-thoughts, he mused, a few beers down, but alcohol and dead brothers were not the healthiest of combinations. Just ask any of the Weasleys, who were making a determined effort to not let the melancholy rise too far above the swirling depths.
Still, if he was honest, (and boy did that thought make him guiltier than ever) – it wasn't Colin that was bothering him, he was used to the undercurrent of grief that had become an everyday companion, so commonplace he didn't notice it anymore. The sun was down, tiny baubles of light glistening amongst the plants adding to the dreamy, romantic atmosphere; the dancing was in full swing, they'd all graduated to Firewhisky, and now, slowly, people were partnering up as the music got softer and slower. He could see Ginny and Harry, so happy they made his heart hurt, clutching each other close with dopey grins on their faces, completely out of rhythm. Next to them swayed Hermione and Ron, Hermione with hair coming out of its knot in increasingly frizzy waves, wearing shades of ice-blue and cornflower, matching the ring on her left hand; Ron with his eyes closed in contentment. George and Angelina were grinning and performing a complicated partnered dance, with eyes only for each other. Even Neville and Luna – Luna was in a world of her own, looking rather like a parrot in her bright green feathery dress, but Neville – Neville was just watching her, with such a fond expression Dennis felt like he was intruding by just observing from across the tent.
He was, quite simply, lonely. It really wasn't even about Natalie anymore – he only thought about her because he had no one to think about. He'd become quite good at sidestepping memories or dreams or fantasies of her – objectively, he knew it was just nostalgia with a healthy dose of loneliness and a sprinkling of guilt that made him think of her at all. But tonight, he'd been drinking, and he hadn't had a relationship last beyond two months since his seventh year, and he was feeling weak… so he let himself imagine. Imagine that she was there on his arm, hair probably curled for the occasion, listening and laughing and talking and dancing – and then he caught a glimpse of Harry and the bubble burst. Of course, she wouldn't have been at this wedding with him, because the only way he would have ever been invited to this wedding would have been if he became an Auror. He scowled, downed his Firewhisky, and stood. Enough brooding – he was going to have fun if it killed him.
X-XXX-X
July 2003
"Right – the ACHE begins tomorrow, time for you to be on the other side again, mates. You up for dueling some hopefuls?"
Dennis felt a frisson of excitement up his arms. Duelling had always been his favourite part, even if the pressure was a lot higher on this side. If he won, that's what was expected of him; but if he lost – well, to lose to a barely-graduated Hogwarts student after a full year of training and a full year of being on the job would be galling, to say the least. Still, despite his slight nervousness, he felt confident. Last year, he'd been fresh out of training and less fit that he was now, and by the time he'd hit his third duel of the afternoon he'd been knackered, though he'd still won, of course. This year, though – he had two years of experience under his belt, and while he still didn't fully feel comfortable with the idea of drawing out the duels a little to allow the Aurors to properly evaluate the hopefuls, as they'd all been instructed to do, he was quietly confident that he was at least capable of doing so, which was more than he could say for his state of mind the year previous. With more finesse, too.
He faced off against his fourth and final opponent – Leslie Toddington, blonde haired like him, pulled back into a messy bun, even smaller and slighter than his own self – and saw the mingled eagerness and apprehension in her heterochromatic, hypnotic bluish-hazel eyes. Hang on a second – hypnotic? Had he really just thought that about someone who he was trying to mop the floor with? He gave himself a little shake, allowing himself to slip into a state of Zen-like focus, just as he'd been taught; Williamson the referee's voice washing over him. No maiming, no severe injuries, no creatures, no poisons, no Unforgivables. He'd got this.
As it transpired, he did. He'd been working out six days a week for the last two years, trying to improve his stamina and flexibility; and he displayed it now, by dodging her hexes and jinxes, sometimes forced to put up a shield, while occasionally throwing a standard Rictumsempra or Stupefy her way. He hadn't fully understood until this moment just how much Cornhill, two years ahead of him, had been toying with him during his own ACHE. Leslie – Toddington's aim was good, better than average, and she was quick – not just in terms of speed, but cleverness: she'd started aiming a little to the left or the right of him, hoping to get him when he moved. Her knowledge of magic was excellent too – she was sending spells his way that he didn't recognise, and a fair few were non-verbal. But she was too dependent on her wand, standing mostly stationary and using shield spells or conjured rocks to keep herself safe. Accordingly, he changed his strategy – non-verbally layering spells under her feet in between sending more conventional hexes and jinxes her way, trying to keep her distracted enough to not notice what he was doing under her nose (literally).
Finally, he was done, and he had her. Rising from his last roll, he threw up a shield before vanishing the stone he'd conjured under her, and Leslie sunk through the bog he'd transfigured the ground under her feet to. She shrieked as she fell, jabbing her wand at herself with a quick Finite, but her unshielded state made it easy for Dennis to disarm her. The duel was over.
The moment Williamson called it, he ran over to her, levitating her back on solid ground while charming the floor back to normal. She looked at him, a bit shaken, and then she started to laugh; a lovely, full chuckle. "These robes are a bit beyond hope now, eh? I might have to bin them. If I do, you're buying me a replacement!"
"Worth it to keep my dignity alive there, though you're an opponent worth losing to," he said, smiling. "Let me try and help you Tergeo these clean – I do feel a bit guilty about all the mud."
"I'll let it go on one condition – you teach me how you did that bog so quickly! That was phenomenal!" she shot back at once, still grinning; and Dennis laughed out loud.
X-XXX-X
February 2004
Life went on as much as it had, and Dennis loved every minute of it – even the long, boring stakeouts, though those took much more of his innate optimism to enjoy. He didn't have much of a life after work of course (or was that before work, or was that in between work? The crazy shifts had him losing track of the days and hours), but he did manage to drop in to see his parents at least once a week; and got all his Hogwarts friends together for drinks once or twice a month. He also saw more of George than Euan and the rest – both on official business (asking him the what's-what on Diagon and Knockturn) and unofficial (Ron would invariably bring him along for Weasley dinners if he was due for one on days they were working together). Plus, he'd made some really good mates in the Auror Office too: Owen, of course, had become his 'work husband'; and, once the trainees started assisting on cases, he'd also become fast friends with Leslie, the Auror-Trainee who he tried desperately to pretend he didn't have a raging crush on.
He'd become a part of the DE Capture Task Force by virtue of being assigned to work with Harry and Ron, and so his days mostly consisted of spying on known associates of Death Eaters still free; and poring over all manners of records in the aptly named Record Room to find hitherto unknown associates to spy on. This latter exercise was his least favourite aspect of the job – reminded him a bit too strongly of poring over textbooks in an attempt to desperately cram for exams during school. Still, it got more bearable when someone was assigned to help him, which happened sometimes. It was actually how he'd become friends with Leslie in the first place – they'd had hours to kill amongst musty books and overflowing files, and they'd spent it getting to know each other as the sun had gone down and the lights had grown dimmer. He'd become aware of his crush on this brilliant and beautiful girl when she'd snorted with laughter at his stories of accidental magic, her hair coming loose from the bun she usually favoured, and heckled him right back when he'd made light, teasing fun of the sound.
It was just your average Tuesday, spent poring over those interminable files to try and find a relative of the Yaxleys, or a suspicious family friend of the Goyles (Senior and Junior, both somehow still successfully on the run) when Leslie had stretched out her tiny limbs, shaking out her blonde waves, and he'd asked her if she'd like to hit up the Leaky with him after their shift was up. Captivated by the mole on the side of her slightly too-big mouth, he'd croaked out "it's a date" when she'd acquiesced, and then flushed a tomato red around the ears and neck when he'd realised what he'd said. Although, he'd noticed, with a slight dawning of hope, she hadn't been flustered by his calling it a date at all. They'd had a couple rounds of beers, then he'd Apparated with her to her front door, they'd said their goodbyes, there had been a heavy, poignant silence in the air… and then she'd pinned him up against her own front door before sending him off on his way.
A grin stretched across his face at the memory, only a few weeks old, and he'd been staring dopily in the distance when a memo, courtesy Owen, whacked him across the face. "Look alive, Creevey! What're you thinking about?" "Nothing, you git," he lied, not wanting his love life splashed around the office just yet. He wasn't even sure if it was completely allowed for them to date. "Anything new, then?"
"Possible new lead. Robards has called us all in to Conference Room Demiguise."
X-XXX-X
"Now that we're all here – Owen, want to walk us through?" Ron indicated at the Junior-Auror who had been working with him closely all week.
"Got a tip from a Mrs. Bellevue, who lives next door to the Goyles. Says she saw a shadow of a hulking bloke in the windows of the house where Lydia Goyle lives all by her lonesome. Thought it might be a bit suspicious. She's the kind of officious busybody who loves to know what's going on with everybody and is forever just happened to notice-ing things, if you know what I mean. Seemed somewhat promising, so Ron and I went to pay her a call, but she didn't know anything else – and a shadow isn't much to go on, but for want of any other leads…"
"Did she say if she's ever noticed the shadow before?" asked Harry, curiously.
"No – and she's the kind of woman who spends most of her time with Omniculars glued to her eyes, Harry. Between the regular stakeouts outside her house and her busybody neighbour peering in, it defies belief that the two Goyles have been living there quietly for the past six-odd years. There's something else…" mused Ron.
"What if – what if they moved in recently? They couldn't be living there openly, but maybe they're hiding out somewhere in the cottage now. Could they have had a small hideyhole room that we didn't discover during all the raids? Maybe, but it just seems impossible in such a small house, and we tried Homenum Revelio every time. Plus, you need Ministry authorised contractors to construct. There would have been an entry in some register or the other in Magical Records, and we would have gotten that information by now. So… they probably did leave, maybe went overseas somewhere, and maybe they figured the heat died down enough for them to come back." Harry leaned forward over the table, considering, before turning abruptly towards Dennis.
"Dennis – has anyone been visiting Lydia over the last month or so?"
He ruffled through his notes. "Nothing really, Harry. She has a few friends who drop in occasionally, but none of them have any Death Eater links – sympathisers, of course, but we've got nothing concrete to go on. She doesn't have a House Elf anymore, so she buys all her food herself – she floos to the nearest store for that, and she's never made contact with anyone there, she's almost always under surveillance when she goes. She did spend the night of her birthday at the Leaky, but Hannah confirmed she had no overnight visitors, at least. She couldn't say if someone had dropped in to see her for a bit or not, though. We could pull her travel history and gold withdrawals though, since we have some suspicious activity, finally – see if she's been spending money or going anywhere interesting?"
"Good idea, Creevey. Potter - speak to your sister-in-law in her capacity as Ministry liaison at Gringotts about pulling Lydia Goyle's Gringotts withdrawal and deposit history for the last three months. I don't foresee any problems with getting the requisite warrants since she is a direct Person of Interest in this case – I'll double check this with Mafalda Hopkirk however, and lean on her to authorise these. Weasley, speak with your wife on drafting and filing the warrants – this is priority one. Creevey and Cauldwell, head down to DMT and speak with Percy Weasley about releasing information regarding all Floo Travel and Portkey movement to and from the Goyle cottage. Inform him that the paperwork is being prepared by Hermione Weasley and should be ready for collection ASAP. Toddington and Zeller, standby ready to assist if required." Robards, who had been intently listening to the by-play in the conference room, spoke at last; his voice ringing with authority.
X-XXX-X
Suddenly, things were moving very fast. Lydia Goyle's Gringotts statement revealed that she'd unexpectedly withdrawn a large sum of money a few days before her birthday, and the DMT records showed that a package had been Portkeyed to her cottage from Francis Furniture Emporium in Diagon Alley. Questioning there had revealed that the sulky faced Lydia Goyle had purchased a state-of-the-art multi-compartment trunk as well as a whole lot of secondhand furniture, and upon probing, Hannah had a vague recollection that she'd brought a rather large trunk for a one-night stay. It seemed fairly evident that the Goyles had flooed into the Leaky from their yet unknown previous hiding spot, probably disillusioned or transfigured or Polyjuiced in some fashion, and had made it up to Lydia's room, been loaded into her trunk, and carried back home.
The inevitable raid was short and reasonably uneventful. A team of four (Harry, Ron, Dennis and Owen) had headed to the Goyle house at night, with the two Junior Aurors waiting outside on guard duty while the more seasoned duo had stormed the house, Anti-Apparition charms up in place, the two Auror-Trainees on standby at the holding cells. The younger Goyle and his mother had been captured and cuffed easily, but Goyle the elder had proved to be quicker and cleverer than his stolid appearance suggested; and had managed to make a break for it. Unfortunately for him, he'd run straight into Dennis and Owen, and while he'd managed to land a gash on Owen's torso and snapped Dennis's ankle, he'd been quickly subdued by Owen with a well-placed Expelliarmus and Incarcerous combo.
Owen's bleeding chest was quickly staunched with a few Episkeys when Harry and Ron made it outside, their quarry in tow, but they could only manage a Ferula to splint Dennis's ankle, and so he was summarily dispatched to St. Mungo's to get his ankle fixed while the others went back to the Ministry to process their charges. He Portkeyed to the hospital, sending Leslie a Patronus so she'd know why he was late and to ask her to join him once her shift was up, and since his injury was neither serious nor apt to worsen, waited for a Healer to become available. As a result, his secret relationship became not-so-secret when his two bosses and partner rounded the corner into A&E to see Dennis, leg still in a splint and elevated upon the nearest chair, his arms and mouth occupied in greeting his girlfriend who had just entered the hospital a minute before them.
"Toddington?! Bloody hell, Dennis! And as for you Leslie – don't you think you could do better than this git?!" was the exclamation that brought Dennis rudely back to Earth, causing his eyes to tear themselves away from Leslie's oceanic gaze and rapidly pinkening cheeks to settle on his partner's incredulous open-mouthed expression. He blanched when he took in his superiors standing behind Owen, momentarily panicked at what they might say, before taking in the fact that they were amused and not aghast. Leslie must've gauged all was well, too, because she twinkled up at Owen before cheekily proclaiming, "nah, he's a bit scrawny, but I think I'll keep him anyway," kissing Den on the cheek and laughing.
"Blimey, mate, guess we've got to be thankful you met here and not down by the holding cells. Talk about timing, eh?" chuckled Ron, clearly taking the mickey. Both Dennis and Leslie flushed, and Ron and Harry roared with laughter; with Owen joining in a few seconds later, evidently over his initial astonishment. Being teased was better than being censured, Dennis mused, it could've been a lot worse. Besides, as the ribbing continued, he was treated to the sight of Ron getting a taste of his own medicine as Harry suddenly grinned wickedly, winked at Dennis, and then nudged Ron, coughing "Oi, there's a war on!" – whatever that meant –
causing the ginger to redden and clear his throat several times.
"Alright, Dennis, looks like you're in good hands, so we'll leave you. Take care; and see you both in the morning so we can debrief the office on tonight's operation."
The three of them departed with a wave, and Dennis and Leslie followed them out half an hour later, Dennis's ankle as good as new. He felt exhilarated, the adrenaline from the day's events melting into euphoria, and as he crashed into bed with Leslie he found that he didn't spare even a moment's thought towards why the Goyles were back in England now, or indeed, why at all…
X-XXX-X
A/N: I hate chapter titles. This one is particularly terrible. I went with the two developments from the chapter and figured the alliteration will help save me. But, on the bright side, some case action! Is this related to the main plot? We shall see…
Graham Pritchard (Slytherin), Maisy Reynolds (Ravenclaw) and Rose Zeller (Hufflepuff) are all minor canon characters I got off the Lexicon. I picked Pritchard specifically because he was in Slytherin – I wanted to show not all Slytherins are "evil". Boot refers to Terry Boot – I wanted there to be more than just three people from Harry's cohort who made it to the Aurors, and I thought Terry Boot could be a bit of a different choice to the usual suspects. Thomson and Thompson were my invention in this universe (I loved Tintin as a child!).
Also, Dennis would absolutely have zero clue about women's fashion or jewellery so I couldn't describe Harry and Ginny's wedding as thoroughly as I would have liked, but I always pictured a dress like the Astrid by Randy Fenoli (should show up if you google it) but without the overskirt for Ginny's wedding dress. I also always pictured that Ginny's ring would be a classic round diamond solitaire, but very finely made (my headcanon is that it was a family ring that belonged to Euphemia and then Lily before being passed down to Ginny. The Potters were canonically well-off, so the ring would have been a reasonably large diamond, probably in platinum, and goblin-made). If you google 'Erika Winters Margot' it will show you the kind of ring I mean.
Luna's feathery dress was inspired by something like the 'Iris Green Feather Bolaro Dress Spring 2018' collection by Randi Rahm (if you google all of those keywords you'll get a picture of the dress), though I imagined it an even more eye-watering bright green.
As for the description of Hermione, imagine the dress Emma Watson wore in Goblet of Fire, except in varying shades of blue instead of periwinkle. For Hermione, I pictured a blue oval sapphire (her birthstone) set in a small diamond halo (think a much smaller version of the classic Princess Diana ring), something vintage, perhaps inherited from a relative as well (such as Ron's grandmother Cedrella – Ron would be the second brother to marry, after Bill, and Bill the curse-breaking banker would have had enough money to buy Fleur a ring, besides I always felt that Arthur and Molly had a different relationship with Hermione than any of their other daughters in law).
And as always, reviews would be appreciated :)