"Fudge, fiddling with his bowler, waited for Hagrid to go ahead of him, but Hagrid stood his ground, took a deep breath and said carefully, 'If anyone wanted ter find out some stuff, all they'd have ter do would be ter follow the spiders. That'd lead 'em right! That's all I'm sayin'.'"

—Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets

Cornelius Fudge was gone with not so much as a Poof!, a horde of people were at ground zero, and many of these same reporters were raising hell on earth to get out of the blocked off courtroom. The trapped Wizengamot members were marginally quieter, due to fears that they would vanish next.

All in all, it was a restless night for the exhausted MLE. By the end of it Ron would be grateful to never see another peeved reporter in his life (and they, likewise, him), Harry had snapped and hexed near a dozen people trying to break down the door, and Lisa literally jumped Kingsley Shacklebolt to keep him from leaving his security detail. The only reason Hermione hadn't similarly gone off the deep end was that she'd released her frustration on the poor Unspeakables who'd been sent to give her some bad news.

So, it was a nightmare. In total it was rather more 'piles of paperwork' than 'interrogating the trapped people', though neither wielded any results. It was only the next morning when most had been allowed out of the Ministry, and even more hours before the particularly suspicious or hysterically bedraggled Wizengamot members and reporters could stumble into floos. The only shining note was that their blasting headlines about Fudge took away most of the attention from Hermione verbally (or otherwise) demolishing a group of Unspeakables in the Atrium.

The fate of the MLE personnel was far worse. It was all hands on deck as Aurors and Hit-Wizards ran between increased security and frantic investigation. The collected memories were poured over, the chamber and pedestal were tested for every enchantment known to wizarding kind, and more than a few loads of caffeine and energy potions were carted over from St. Mungo's.

Yet, to no avail. No one had tested positive for polyjuice or the imperius and no portkeys had been activated within the chamber. Apparation of any sort wasn't possible. The memories also revealed nothing new—apart from two witches from competing newspapers snogging in the back of the room, the Supreme Mugwump's shriek and jump onto the unamused opposition leader after stepping on a flobberworm, and Aurors Quirke's and Su's whispers about the Head Auror's arse.

The last two women were flushed when that particular memory was archived, but Harry (after giving them an incredulous stare) only snorted before returning to sorting through the Pensieve.

Needless to say, the week was a disaster. Ron was barely home at all, with the Ministry on near lock-down as the MLE scrambled with nonexistent clues. The sniffing reporters weren't helping things, but it was crowds of protestors in the Atrium that were new. As were the conspiracy theories about exactly who was behind Fudge's disappearance. Shacklebolt was currently the biggest suspect, with Harry a near second. A small group of theorists whispered that Hermione must be the one behind it all: there had been many rumours over the years about what heinous things she'd done to Rita Skeeter and Dolores Umbridge. Hermione, for her part, snickered in amusement when this was brought to her attention.

The only semi bright news (or the worst news) came from the Unspeakables that first night, who informed them that not only were no time-turners missing—there were no time-turners. Apparently they'd all been destroyed in the 1990s, and the had been 'saving face' since then. Hence, not allowing the MLE access to the non-existent objects.

Harry hadn't taken this news well. Especially when he was snidely informed that it was actually his break-in to the Department of Mysteries that had destroyed them all.

The MLE didn't exactly talk about the aftermath to that confrontation. They were all trying to repress it, frankly, though it did remind all of them to never (ever ever) get on the Head Auror's bad side. On an unrelated note? The bets on the inevitable 'Potter-Weasley Smackdown' reached epic heights.

After this trainwreck, most of the Ministry were looking worse for wear. Getting through the hordes of reporters took it out of most. For Ron—and most of the MLE—they were rather more bedraggled from the crime sprees that refused to elicit any clues.

Thus, Barrister Fay Dunbar was an anomaly. The woman would look right at home in the Tudor court. Oh, she wore modern clothes—compared to most witches, her current assemble of a flowered sundress and light cape was practically muggle. Her Elizabethan air had more to do with the rest of her: brown hair bunched up into tight curls around her ears, parchment pale skin, and pretty features that were as high and sharp as could be. She was, in short, the stereotype of a pureblood. Aristocratic, that is, not inbred.

At this moment, all of her queenly disposition was sweeping into Ron's office and perching nimbly on his desk. This was done without a knock or accompanying noise, so it took a second for the Senior Auror to realise someone else was in the room.

He glanced up from his notes and jerked backward with a start. "Bloody he—"

"Hello," the woman said neatly, calm and composed in the face of Ron's surprise. "Barrister Fay Dunbar. Fay, if you please. Senior Auror Weasley, I don't believe I've had the pleasure."

"Yeah. Hi." Noticing her hand had been extended towards him he quickly shook it, regaining his balance. "Call me Ron. Err, it's nice to meet you, but why are you—"

"Here? The Selwyn case from last Spring. I'm working on the prosecution and the trial is finishing up," Fay revealed the folder from somewhere (he wasn't entirely sure where, except that the non-existent pocket in her dress was bigger on the inside). Licking her fingers she flipped through the pages. Her legs crossed, right at home as the Auror gawked. "Over the course of the trial, one detail kept nagging me. I wanted to ensure that something wasn't missed at the time of investigation. A Death Eater spotting—pardon? Follow up?"

It took a minute for Ron to unravel her statement. "You mean how someone claimed they saw Lestrange? Course I followed up on it! But it wasn't anything. The ravings of a drug addict that Selwyn latched onto to try and make a plea. Which, jeez, tell me you haven't given him?"

"The drug addict, Simon River, claimed to have seen Rodolphus Lestrange." Fay raised an eyebrow, ignoring his question. "Undesirable Number Three, rumoured to have been a top Death Eater."

"I know who Lestrange is, thanks," Ron said, a touch testily. "Listen, I'd have loved to have gotten a lead on him. But it was nothing."

"I'll be straight with you, Ron," she said the last with extra emphasis. "With the recent lack of progress on the Sweeney kidnappings, not to mention the Fudge debacle, some have doubts about the Auror Office's effectiveness. I want to ensure that there wasn't an, ahem—"

"I followed up on it," Ron repeated, his patience ebbing. "I take all leads seriously. However, this one ended up being complete nonsense, which we proved."

"Mr. River was outside of the potions shop when the report of the robbery came in, and he claimed to have seen a man with a dark mark fleeing the shop. A dark mark!" Fay strode forward, not minding Ron's sighing. "'Nonsense'? Deputy Auror Susan Bones and yourself questioned River under Veritaserum, which he passed."

"Because he thought it was the truth. Thought!" Ron said. "He was doped up on mallowsweet. He could've told us the sky was orange and believed it. We couldn't even get a decent Pensieve memory from him, he was that out of his mind. Besides, we never found out how he could've seen this supposed tattoo."

"If the Death Eater's sleeves were rolled up or torn, it would be perfectly possible," Fay pointed out.

"In the middle of Diagon Alley? Mighty clumsy of Lestrange, considering he's been on the run for years," he said drily, recalling the case's details. "Also, if I'm remembering this right, River couldn't tell us anything about this man except that he was old. Barely an identification."

"Hardly. That and the Mark is enough to identify Lestrange. After all, there are only three known people still at large who have the dark mark." She primly stated. "A woman, a middle-aged man, and thirdly—"

"Rodolphus Lestrange, an older man and potioneer who could've hypothetically used the missing ingredients. Yes, I know. I did work the bloody case," Ron said.

Fay paused. "I need not remind you how dangerous this man is?"

"Since the only guys more wanted than him are terrorists? No, I don't need a reminder," Ron gritted out. "Listen, River didn't see Lestrange. There wasn't a trace of him. It didn't even turn out to be a robbery!"

"Yes, Selwyn, the store owner was embezzling and tried to cover his crime," Fay said, looking through her papers. "The owner claimed that Lestrange was pulling the strings?"

"Selwyn was the ring leader, that's it," he said. "I went over this case a hundred times back when it happened. The bloke was making up a story, just like he always did. First he claimed he'd been burglarised of a bunch of rare potions ingredients. When we called him on faking the robbery to hide his funds, he started claiming he was a small fish and that there was a secret partner. An idiot then blabbed about River's testimony to him, and surprise surprise! Selwyn started claiming Lestrange was behind it. For the ingredients, or blackmailing him about the embezzlement, or who knows what; the story kept changing!"

"The 'idiot blabber'," Fay stated drily, "was your fellow Auror, Cormac McLaggen?"

"Yeah, he's an idiot." Ron stretched. "I'd say go question him, but I don't hate anyone enough to advise that. Thick as a rock, that bloke."

"Do you make a habit of insulting your coworkers?"

"When they deserve it, absolutely. You should hear the dirt I have on the Head." Ron became more serious. "I know you're just being thorough. Fantastic, have at it. I honestly hope I missed something and you find a clue that leads back to Lestrange. But this wasn't my first case, okay? I didn't ignore the lead or brush it off, just like I'm not messing up the Sweeney spree. Like plenty of leads, River ended up being a dead end. All evidence of Lestrange being there was not only circumstantial, but came from unreliable witnesses."

Fay stayed silent for a minute, collecting her thoughts. "We are discussing a potions shop and missing ingredients. Lestrange's experiments focussed on potions. There's a link."

"The missing ingredients?" Ron said. "From what I remember, none of them were dark. They're expensive, sure, but only because they're rare. They aren't useful."

"They can be used in potions!" she argued. "The combination is in calming draughts, animagus reveals, headache relievers, et cetera. Plenty of options!"

"Plenty of healing potions, you mean," Ron said. "The ingredients that were taken are mainly used in outdated healing potions. No dark wizard, Lestrange included, would go out of his way for them! I bet you anything Selwyn just destroyed or sent off expensive ingredients at random so he could fake a robbery and blame the mix-matching funds on that."

She frowned, irritation clearly shining through. "If you really think this is a just an embezzlement case—"

"If it looks like a flobberworm and stinks like one," Ron cut in. "The case was already complicated enough. Selwyn faked being robbed to steal funds! You think both of those were just covering up something else? Really?"

Fay sniffed. "Lestrange might have been involved."

Ron let out a slow exhale, not wanting to deal with this. Not with everything else on his plate. After the week he'd had, he just wanted to drag Hermione from the office, pick up Rosie from the babysitter, and have a relaxing night at home. He didn't want to be chatting about Death Eaters and a barrister who thought him an incompetent dunce. Wasn't like he'd ever met the woman. "Hey, constant vigilance? I'm all for it. But listen Dunbar, there's a thing called occam's razor…wait. Dunbar?"

"Yes?"

"No, I mean," Ron had realised why the name was familiar, "Dunbar. You know a Jeremy Dunbar?"

Fay stiffened, caught by surprise. "My cousin."

"Huh." He shook his head, getting back to the point. "So yeah, occam's razor. More times than not, the simplest solution is the—"

"What about Jeremy?"

"Nothing," Ron said honestly. "Really, it's nothing. Just remembered he was a witness to one of the vanishings."

But this made Fay further pucker her lips. "Charlotte Fawcett. Yes, he told me. Odd how there's been no progress on the case."

"For Merlin's sa—oh, screw this." Ron kneaded his forehead. "Fine, you think I'm an idiot. More luck to you. I just don't have the time to deal with this. Why're you even scrounging around for Lestrange?"

"I'm on the prosecu—"

"For Selwyn, yeah, I got that." He frowned, eyeing her suddenly. "Wait, this doesn't make sense. The trial's been on for ages. Why bug me now?"

She sniffed. "Head Auror Potter ordered an inquiry."

"He, he what now?"

"An inquiry. Are you deaf? When I heard I came straight to—hey, hey! Where are you going!"

Striding down the hall, Ron would reluctantly admit he was being a bit impulsive. It would probably be best to sit on it, go in with a level head, and not confront Harry.

'But an inquiry?' Ron steamed to himself, steps sharp and hurried as he searched for the man in question. 'What's he playing at! We have enough to get on with. But is he—'

He stopped mid-step, brow narrowing. Fay Dunbar came straight to him. Dunbar got his name from somewhere. There was no reason that Harry would bring up Lestrange again…unless it was to further aggravate Ron.

"That freaking prat!" Ron growled to himself, causing a few passersby to give him a wide berth. He hurried on with a quicker step. With this, he was soon rewarded by hearing Harry's voice up ahead.

As he rounded a corner he realised that he might not have chosen the best time to confront Harry. It was a pretty atrocious time, really, as it was never good to have a crowd for these things. Also, there was the slight chance that Harry wasn't actually behind this, so confronting him with he was talking to a crowd of Junior Aurors likely wasn't best.

But Harry was always complaining that the Junior Aurors were terrified of him. So he ought to be happy that they'll get a chance to see the man was human rather than an intimidating legend. Ron nodded, walking the rest of the way and pushing through the crowd. And maybe his temper got the best of him. Maybe it was frowned upon to storm up to the Head Auror and interrupt his lecture to the nervous new recruits.

"You set a barrister on me?" Ron growled, cutting Harry's speech off. The younger man stared at him, along with the suddenly whispering crowd. "Are you completely mental!"

"What're you on about now?" Harry started to say before stopping. "No, actually, I don't care. Can't you see I'm in the middle of something?"

"You put out an inquiry on Lestrange!" Ron wasn't about to be put off.

Harry blinked. "I, what now?"

"The case's been done for ages!" Ron stormed, angry at his idiot friend and tired from this mad week. "There wasn't a sign of Lestrange, you know that! So why was I just being lectured by a holier than thou barrister, convinced that I let a Death Eater walk?"

A look of realisation came over Harry's expression. He let out a weary glare. "Ron, listen I—Ron! It wasn't an inquiry of Lestrange. It's an inquiry on the top list of Undesirables! With the sprees and Fudge, Shacklebolt thought we should take a closer look—"

"Oh, so now you're listening to Shacklebolt?"

"It wasn't him! It—damn it, I was in the middle of a talk!" Harry exclaimed, rubbing his forehead with a wince. "We'll deal with this later. Though Merlin knows I'm sick of this. If it isn't the vanishings, you're running to my wife complaining about your partner—"

"I complained to my sister. Which, yeah, let's hash this out right here!" Ron ignored Harry's glare and the Junior Auror's perky 'eavesdropping'. "Fine, you have an excuse for setting a barrister on me? What about McLaggen! Bloody incompetent partner, and you expect me to work a spree of kidnappings with him? You know this is unfair! So I annoyed a few Aurors, what of it? Doesn't mean I have to babysit McLaggen!"

"Yes, it does," Harry retorted, his tone offering no room for argument. "You've given me so much nonsense to deal with, the least you could do is get a nuisance off my plate!" He paused, remembering a crowd of Junior Aurors was listening in. He coughed, backtracking. "Not that training Aurors is a nuisance, far from it. Not what I meant at all. I just mean that, ah—"

"That McLaggen's an utter twat who should've been fired ages ago," Ron nodded in agreement with himself. He noted that most of the surrounding crowd were also nodding along. Even Harry, while still glaring, couldn't protest the statement. "I'm all for training somebody, but not that idiot. If he isn't insulting someone he's causing a panic via pies, of all things. SO! Newbies. I need a new partner since my only decent old one's a passive aggressive git, and my current one's a spoilt, arrogant imbecile. Any takers?"

"No, no!" Harry immediately yelped out. Ron smirked, for not even this yell stopped the crowd from pouncing forward and excitedly waved their hands. The Head Auror had to duck when an a particularly enthusiastic bloke's arm almost collided with his glasses. A quick glare around caused the new recruits to waver, though their hands remained raised. "No one's getting reassigned! I don't give a damn if Ron's a war hero. He's supposed to be learning a lesson! Don't you lot care he's already given two Aurors' nervous breakdowns? Will you—Wilkins, stop jumping! Everyone, put your hands down!"

"See?" Ron crossed his arms, the smirk not leaving his face. He only became more amused at Harry being disgruntled. "They love me. So toss McLaggen to a desk job—it's not as though you actually want him in the field. Then give me a newbie. I'm absolutely fine with a newbie. I can, dunno, mould them and stuff. You lot are mouldable, yeah?"

"Weasley," Harry growled. It didn't help his mood that, though most of the hands had been put down, some of the more petite recruits were still leaping up to make sure Ron had seen them, "play nice with McLaggen and stop complaining. Or bothering me about my job! Or bothering me, period!"

"Weasley? We're doing that again?" Ron retorted. "Fine, Potter. But if you think this is me bothering you, you're in for a rude awakening."

"You bloody…" Harry scowled at the man. He was still distracted in trying to calm down the Junior Aurors. "Look, I'm sorry we aren't partners anymore. I miss it, I do. But I like my new job! Don't look at me like that, even the bureaucracy isn't too horrible. But I'm busy. Even busier, thanks to you lately. So stop thinking I'm out to get you and stop trying to get rid of your partners!"

"Stop assigning me rubbish partners because you're annoyed! I've been with him for months, isn't that enough punishment?"

"Assigning McLaggen to you wasn't a—gah!" Harry was at the end of his nerves. "Fine! So it was a retaliation. You'd gone too damn far!"

"Hah! See newbies? The Man Who Conquered's admitted to doing this out of personal vengeance. Setting McLaggen and a barrister on me."

Harry's eyes only narrowed at the nickname. "I still don't know what barrister you're on about. But I do know that if I was anyone else, literally anyone else, you'd have been fired."

"If my boss was 'literally anyone else', I wouldn't be making a fuss because, oh yeah! I'd like my partner. Who'd be competent and not an idiot like McLaggen!"

The dark-haired man closed his eyes. He took a slow, deep breath, reopening his eyes. "The McLaggen thing will be nothing." While his tone was nonchalant, his manner was so much that of the 'Man Who Conquered' that the Junior Aurors were stepping back cautiously. Ron was actually tempted to join them. "You know why?"

Ron hadn't the faintest. Harry was a number of things, but he'd never been particularly creative when it came to retaliations. He was also pretty certain the other man wasn't going to attack him. That is, he hoped not. He wouldn't do it with so many witnesses, at least. Probably. Maybe?

In a few short strides, Ron found himself face-to-face with his best friend. His best friend who took on Dark Lords and paparazzi every other weekend, and was now smiling darkly at him. Ron's smirk fell a bit. "For the past few months," Harry's voice became quieter, "I've been thinking of all the horrible things I'd love to do to you. Call it a relaxation method. Ginny, unfortunately, vetoed them. But I think she'll give me a pass this one time."

Ron snorted, waving off his slight disconcertion. "Vague threat, check."

"You want something more substantial? How about this," the Head Auror's mouth quirked up. "I know everything about you. I know what pisses you off and what you hate more than anything. If you keep on like this, McLaggen will be the least of your worries."

Ron snorted. "Sure mate. Sure. Very frightening."

Harry paused, looking him up and down. Ron's heart gave a jump as the younger man drew a wand, but it wasn't pointed at him.

"Expecto patronum. Lisa, I'm sending Ron over to consult on the latest crime scene." Harry told the silver stag, not taking his eyes off of a thoroughly confused Ron. "Figured you're right, the more people the better. He won't have any details, so if you could catch him up? Let me know of any findings."

Recording finished the Patronus was sent galloping away. Harry's expression was purposefully neutral as he looked at his frowning brother-in-law.

"Ah," Ron began when Harry didn't continue. The Junior Aurors were staring at both of them in rapt attention, "what?"

"Another murdered creature," Harry said evenly, giving away little. "I don't have the case file on me, but Lisa can fill you in. This one was left in the middle of Westminster Abbey. Charming, right? Feel free to apparate from here. No reason to delay, after all."

Ron stared at him, not trusting any of this. But he also didn't know how a consulting gig was a punishment. The murdered magical creatures were far from pleasant, but he'd helped with them before. "You want me to…grab McLaggen?"

"Oh no," the Head Auror said breezily, "don't you want a break from him? Not that I'm reassigning him, understand. But maybe I was taking this too harshly."

"Uh huh," Ron knew Harry was lying through his teeth. He just couldn't figure out why. "Westminster Abbey?"

"All shut down, obliviators have already been in and out. To cut down time an apparation point's been set up in the Abbey." Harry turned away from him and back to the Junior Aurors. "Go on then. I'm trying to give a lesson here, after all. Hope there'll be no more interruptions"

"What creature has—"

"Lisa will explain everything," Harry said dismissively.

Ron kept staring. Giving a disbelieving chuckle, he decided he might as well see what Harry had come up with. He doubted it'd actually bother him. What could be worse than McLaggen?

With that thought in mind, Ron apparated on the spot. He missed Harry's ominously bright smirk as he vanished.

Seconds later (with a squelch and a pop!) Ron arrived without incident in Westminster Abbey. Dusting himself off, he waltzed out of the apparation station and headed towards the soft voices in the main room.

Who he first spotted was Lisa: standing between the rows of pews and looking in his direction. Ron strode forward and, as he was looking at Lisa's pale face, he didn't glance at the front of the Abbey. That is, he didn't…until he reached the woman and she soundlessly pointed towards the pew.

Ron, still doubting this could be that bad, turned to look. He stilled, the question to Lisa freezing in his throat.

With a wild cry he clapped a hand over his eyes, drawing in a thick shudder. "That fuc—"

"Not pleasant, eh," Lisa said sympathetically. But Ron was having none of that.

"I'm killing him!" Ron hissed, both hands blocking his view. He tried to wandlessly memory charm himself of what was on the pew. "I'm going to murder him, you hear me? I'd like to see Potter survive another killing curse!"

"Uh, what?" Lisa asked, looking at the man oddly.

"No, what am I saying? I'll torture him! Make it slow and painful," Ron gritted out, keeping his gaze shut tight. "I'll give the Prophet the biggest expose they've ever seen. Oh sure, Potter's a secret Dark Lord! Deranged deviant, absolutely. Did I mention he has a harem? He's taking applications, too. Swings both ways, so any gender can get a great big snog out of him. Just jump him whenever you like!"

"Ron, are you feeling okay?"

"Or hey, how about love potions! Dose him right up! But you know what Potter really likes? People sticking cameras in his face and making up new titles for him, more hyphens the better! He'll say he dislikes it, but we all know he's a lying, backstabbing son of a bi—"

"RON!" Lisa called out, succeeding in cutting him off. "What in heavens are you on about?"

"How to torture and murder Potter." Ron only opened his eyes with extreme reluctance, groaning as he caught another sight of the body. "Wasn't it obvious?"

Lisa stared at him. She took a short glance to the side (where, Ron at last noticed, Kevin was consulting with the other Auror teams), then looked back. "I'm, ah, I'm not saying it's nice you're stuck with McLaggen. But you're being a bit harsh, don't you think?"

"McLaggen? McLaggen?" Ron gave a mad laugh. Taking her shoulders he spun her around, pointing at the dead animal displayed at the front of Westminster Abbey (in case she'd missed it). "McLaggen's only the start!"

Lisa winced at the sight of the corpse, though was still confused. "Sure, this isn't pleasant…"

"IT'S AN ACROMANTULA!" Ron shouted, causing the other Aurors to stare at them. "AN ACROMANTULA WITH ITS EFFING LEGS CUT OFF!"

Her mouth opened then closed. Realisation set in. "You don't like spiders."

"No, I don't like spiders," Ron answered hotly, a moment from apparating out of the place.

"Understandable," Lisa said. "But, Ron? It's not as though Harry was the one who killed it."

"POTTER SENT ME HERE!" he barked. "FOR NO REASON! The twat's getting back at me. Fine, he wants a war? I'LL GIVE HIM A BLOODY WAR!"

"Ron?" Hermione walked up to him, face curious. "What was your message abo—ooh!"

"Potter." Ron, grabbing her hand, pulled her along the main Auror hallway.

"Potter?" she repeated with a faint giggle, not protesting in being tugged along. "Really?"

"Really," he growled, storming past Taylor's questions and into Harry's office without knocking.

The Head Auror looked up from his paperwork at the intrusion. His puzzled expression turned into a scowl as he spotted his brother-in-law. "Weasley."

Hermione snorted, tugging out of Ron's hand as the men glared at each other. "Last names? Right when I thought you two couldn't get more childish."

"Childish?" Ron spun to her, waving at Harry without looking at him. "HE SET AN ACROMANTULA ON ME!"

Hermione blinked, turning to Harry as he stood up. "Excuse me?"

"Course I didn't," Harry said. He continued without a shred of apology. "It was an acromantula's corpse, get it right Weasley. Didn't even have its legs, so the git shouldn't have been 'bothered by it's crawling'."

"Tell Potter," Ron huffed to his wife (who was looking less amused by the second), "that he's an utter twat who's in over his head!"

"Really?" Harry steamed, also facing Hermione and addressing her rather than Ron. "Well, remind your husband that there's more ugly cases where that one came from!"

"Christ, Potter isn't even good at threats. Tell him Ginny owes me a favour!"

"You're pulling my wife into this? Fine, tell him George still owes me for his bloody shop! Scared, Weasley?"

"You wish, Potter! I grew up with the twins, I'm practically immune. HERMIONE! Tell the git I'm talking to the Prophet!"

"Tell him his mum'd be pleased to hear that!"

"Oh, Potter's running to mum." Ron, still 'talking' to his annoyed wife, managed to miss a twitch forming in Hermione's brow. "How brave of Boy Wonder!"

"Eff off!" Harry snapped.

"Screw you!"

"Screw you too!"

"BOTH OF YOU, QUIET!" Hermione shrieked at them, stopping the men as they were reaching for weapons (not wands: Harry had snatched up a golden snitch and Ron was eyeing a rather thick tome). "Sit! NOW!"

The wizards hesitated, breathing raggedly. But with a further glance at the witch's fiery expression, they sat (Harry on his desk, Ron on a chair). Both refused to look at the other. Harry only reluctantly released the snitch, still eyeing Ron's head like a target.

"Ah, love?" Ron said, not liking the look on his wife's face. He forced his thoughts away from chucking any books at his brother-in-law. Because Merlin knew damaging an 'innocent' dust jacket would further infuriate Hermione.

"Don't you 'love' me!" she said, at the end of her rope. "You two, stay quiet. Your idiotic row is effecting cases, so we're having it out now! You're going to apologise, move on, and stop using me as an owl!"

Harry made a face, sending a disdainful scowl at Ron. "Weasley started it."

"Why are you talking!" she stared at him furiously until he shut up. "I'm well aware he started it. Then you escalated it and now I have to finish it!"

"Going to demote him?" Ron cut in over his wife's venomous look. "About time."

"ARE YOU TWO MAD?" Hermione shrieked, causing the wizards to inch away from her anger. "People are vanishing, there's riots—actual, bonafide rioting, the Minister is still mad at all of us for the memorials—which yes, Harry, I'm blaming you for!, I'm freaking pregnant, and Fudge just vanished under your noses! With all of that, you're sticking to your idiotic row?"

Harry and Ron exchanged a glance, frowned, turned back to Hermione, and nodded vehemently.

"Morons." Hermione breathed, looking up and taking a low inhale. "You're both too stubborn to talk out something that's actually very simple." She returned her glare at both of them, clearly through with all of this. "Harry, Ron was hurt when you accepted the promotion because he loved being partners with you. Ron, Harry wanted the promotion because a desk job is less dangerous and has more reasonable hours. He misses you too. Harry, Ron feels you unfairly assigned him McLaggen, since the pranks he'd been bothering you with are something he'd always done with his siblings. Your retaliation was viewed as being below the belt. Ron, Harry only accepted the position because he wanted more time with his family and unborn child. In short? You have both been acting like children and I'm tired of it! Now, kiss and make up."

The wizards had been deflating through the lecture, but jerked up in appalled surprise at the last statement. Hermione's anger broke into a giggle.

"Your faces!" She put a hand to her mouth to muffle the laugh. Her best friends continued staring at her in horror. "Sorry, sorry. But really, this has been going on too long. Would you apologise already and get on with your lives?"

Ron frowned. Harry crossed his arms. And a lynx Patronus broke through the closed door.

"Potter," Shacklebolt's voice growled, snapping their attention to the silver animal. "Enough is enough! I understand your protest of the memorials. Merlin knows I dislike them myself, but it's for charity you daft man! Whine about bureaucracy all you want, but the few concessions with this media circus can help people. Oh, why am I bothering! Not like you'll listen. But Potter, call off your attack dogs! I know you dislike Ripley for organising this dratted thing, but cornering him in Diagon? Stop these dratted riots!"

The lynx hissed and then turned tail back through the door.

Ron and Hermione both slowly turned to a startled Harry.

"Let me guess," Hermione broke the silence, "you aren't behind this?"

Harry nodded, standing and snatching his wand from the other side of the desk. "No idea what he's on about."

"Not hard to guess, though." Unlike the other two, Ron wasn't getting up. "Merlin knows why, but some people still like you. Riot in Diagon? Have fun breaking it up."

Harry had returned to eyeing Ron contemplatively, but before he could begin using him as target practice Hermione had preemptively grabbed his arms and began struggling to pull him towards the door.

"You aren't hexing Ron!" She growled over Harry's protests, not releasing him as she forced them out of the room. "Ron, I'm not through here! When we get back you're both apologising!"

Hermione tried to close the door after them with her foot, one hand over Harry's shouting mouth and the other scrambling for his wand. All of this with shouts of, "I'm pregnant, Potter! STOP SQUIRMING!"

SLAM!

Ron watched the closed door for another second as he remained sitting sedately in the chair. He was in no hurry anywhere, after all. The 'emergency in Diagon' had nothing to do with him, Dunbar might still be waiting in his office, and Harry surely wouldn't be back to hex him for ages. Most importantly, he wasn't going to miss an opportunity to mess with his brother-in-law's office (Hermione's lecture hadn't exactly made an impact).

"An acromantula," Ron grumbled to himself, surveying Harry's possessions to see what would make the biggest boom. if it instantaneously combusted. "Doesn't matter about the earlier nonsense. Would serve him right if I fed some nonsense rumour to the Prophet! What's he playing at? Reacting to harmless pranks with something he…he ah, knows I…despise. Oh." His voice trailed off, a brilliant idea springing to mind. Even more brilliant than setting his 'friend's' office aflame. "Huh."

Forget talking to the press. He was hitting Harry where it properly hurt.

Without hesitation Ron drew out his communication mirror and spoke into it. "Kingsley Shacklebolt."

There was a small pause. Some short seconds later a confused rumble of, "Hello?" came from the other end. The confusion wasn't shocking, as Ron didn't chit-chat to the Minister that often. He was a tinge surprised the call even went through. He'd wondered if he was also 'trapped' in Diagon, but the older man sounded calm enough.

"Have some fantastic news," Ron leaned back in the chair, criss-crossing his ankles against the desk. He absently knocked aside a pile of official looking documents. "I'm assuming you still want Harry at the Halloween memorial. You know, the idiotic gala you're holding for the first war? You can have him. Not only will he show up, he'll give a big speech. A nice surprise to make it so whatever mess's happening in Diagon doesn't repeat, eh?"

There was a longer pause.

"Harry. Harry Potter?" Shacklebolt said disbelievingly, not even asking how Ron knew about the situation in Diagon Alley. "The man who's been shouting at me to cancel this event?"

"Yep, that git." Ron wasn't put off. "No offence Minister, but you've been going about this the wrong way. Harry's selfless, humble, and wary of crowds, so fat chance he'd give a speech about himself. But we've been talking, see, and he's agreed to do a speech…as long as it's about his parents' bravery. In fact, he's all chuffed about it! You know how he is, always likes to honour other people. So you can tell Ripley, the Prophet, and—well, everybody, that you've got Golden Boy on board. Shout it from the rooftops! Could do your approval ratings good. Less talk about how you offed Fudge, for starters."

This halt lasted so long that Ron wasn't sure if the Minister remained on the line. Until, at last, his sighing voice came through.

"…Potter doesn't know about this, does he."

"He hasn't the faintest," Ron inspected his fingers. "Though I'll tell you what. Say you announce to the Prophet that Potter's the keynote speaker and is going to talk about his wonderful parents, yeah? He'll have to reluctantly agree. He's stupid and sensitive like that."

Shacklebolt hummed. "This is an escalation of your pranks on him, isn't it."

"How the—how do you know about that?"

"Everyone knows about it, Weasley," the Minister said, now interested. "You do realise this plot could get us both hexed?" There was a pause. "Oh and, of course, it's morally reprehensible to use his dead parents against him like this."

"Potter was already on the verge of attacking us both," Ron said. "As for it being morally horrible? Sure, absolutely. But after all the trouble he's put you through, what with your rough re-election, wouldn't you like some pay-back? One which you'll also benefit from, seeing as how you'll publicly have the Head Auror and 'Wizarding Saviour' back in your corner. Doesn't that sound nice?" He could tell he had the man's attention, but he needed a final argument. "Or would you prefer people keep talking about you baking Fudge into a pie?"

There was a small halt.

"Do I want to ask," Shacklebolt spoke with a considering rumble, "why exactly you're doing this to your brother-in-law?"

"Nope. Should I expect the announcement in the Evening Prophet or tomorrow's paper?"

"Tomorrow, I believe," the Minister continued before Ron could get off the line. "Remind me to never make an enemy of you, Senior Auror Weasley."

"Happy to help, Minister. Good luck with the election mess."

"'Follow the spiders,' said Ron, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. 'I'll never forgive Hagrid. We're lucky to be alive.'"
—Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets