A/N: In defence of my lateness: I would say real life got in the way, but I've actually been distracted by running a Harry Potter meetup group and playing PokemonGo. Because I'm an adult. But here! Shiny new chapter! Britain's in mourning! Stuff's (slowly) happening!
If you're also hopelessly addicted to PokeGo? I am tremendously sorry. But we can suffer in procrastination together if you'd like: my trainer code's 6220 3550 6184 (AvisFelicis). Add me for fun Seattle Alolan eggs!
"'From this point forth, we shall be leaving the firm foundation of fact and journeying together through the murky marshes of memory into thickets of wildest guesswork. From here on in, Harry, I may be as woefully wrong as Humphrey Belcher, who believed the time was ripe for a cheese cauldron.'"
—Albus Dumbledore, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince
Segment from Wizarding Wireless Network's 'Quidditch Queries'; host Lee Jordan
"Good morning Britain! Lee Jordan signing it. It's blue skies across the country, Puddlemere's signed a new beater, I'm stuffed full of wakening potions, and…uh…damn it. I can't do this.
It's not a good morning, actually. The Ministry put out a press release two hours ago. I heard about it when I got to the studio when my assistant handed me a copy. I figured it was some new mad thing the Aurors were doing—ya know how they've been jumping around since Ron Weasley became Head Auror? Yeah well, I'm now convinced that Weasley's actually a genius. Or every Weasley's a secret genius? I honestly don't know at this point. This also has nothing to do with Quidditch but…whatever.
Ron Weasley unraveled the Sweeney case. That's right folks, the Ministry announced they know what's happened to the victims. Before I go on, I recommend that anyone under 17 turn off the radio now. Or if you're over 17 and squeamish. Or if you're at all sane. See, the Aurors announced they believe a Death Eater, Rodolphus Lestrange, is behind the vanishings. They're saying he experimented on these people to turn them into magical creatures.
Alright, here's the thing. I'm oblivious about this stuff. At first I thought it sounded cool. Imagine turning into a dragon. Wicked, right? So I called up the Ministry and, using my conniving, I got Hermione Granger-Weasley on the line. She stayed on just long enough to rip me a new one! She said mixing two highly potent and different magics was a death sentence. She told me to bugger off and that any dragons we'll find will be dead ones.
I don't know what's going on. It's still early and I wouldn't trust any reports coming in yet, including mine. I only wish the best to the victims and their loved ones.
"Boss?" Orla and Euan walked into Ron's office, halting as they saw the mess of photos and wiry threads of magic on top of his desk.
"Thanks for coming in." Ron sat on a chair beside the desk, arms folded. "I like having you two as my partners. I've driven other partner-hopefuls into hospital or to mental breakdowns. You know why I'm cool with you two?" There were hesitant head shakes. "You never ask me about the war. You don't pry for gossip. You're also both brilliant and were spot on about the ties between the Sweenies and the Rippers, so I'd be an idiot to leave you out of this."
Ron pulled himself to a stand, feeling every bit of tiredness in his bones. But his voice was clear. "Basically, I trust you. Merlin knows I need that these days. Because my brother's gone, my wife still might think I'm around the bend, I'm keeping an earth-shattering secret from my sister, and I have a mad theory that might be hopeless denial."
He walked up to his coworkers. "You've heard about the 'Golden Trio' and our old misadventures. So: Orla, Euan, I have a crazy theory which goes against a lot of known magic. Wanna join me in an off-the-books, life-or-death adventure?"
Orla and Euan—jaws on the floor—exchanged a glance. They looked back at Ron's extended hand. They couldn't nod quickly enough. One or both might have squeaked.
"I have some news." Ron closed the door and put up a few privacy spells. He turned to Lisa with a grin, noting they were the only ones in this break room. "Don't tell anyone, but I think Harry was turned into a phoenix. Like, a firey bird. Immortal bird. I'm not crazy. Savvy?"
She slowly put down her sandwich.
"We haven't found the 'latest' magical creatures, because the Sweenies have been selling them. One phoenix in particular has been flooding the market." He said all of this nonchalantly. "Do I have proof it's Harry? Nope. Do I have proof it's ANY human? Nope, so Hermione and I are keeping this to a small group for now. You among them, because you're that awesome."
Lisa put her lunch back in her bag.
"Whaddya say?" Ron gave her a winning grin. "Wanna join our reckless team of quasi-legal conspiracy theorists, racing to find immortal survivors and take down a Death Eater?"
She sent him an exasperated look. "You relish in the impossible, don't you."
"Abso-bloody-lutely."
Sweenies Unmasked! — Abigail Rivers
'Daily Prophet'
We hate to announce a grisly 'end' to the Sweeney kidnappings. While the perpetrator has yet to be captured, the Ministry of Magic put forward a tragic statement this morning. The statement explained that the Auror department has determined that Death Eater Rodolphus Lestrange is behind both the Sweeney and the Ripper crime sprees. Lestrange has committed unspeakable crimes, including giving experimental potions to the victims. We have been told these potions are meant to transform humans into magical creatures, which always results in death. The statement is printed in full on Page 2.
The Ministry followed the statement by a hurried press conference from Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt, of which we quote below:
"I am aggrieved to stand before you today," Shacklebolt said with bowed head. "We had all hoped that the 'Sweeney' crime spree would see a happy conclusion. As you will have already heard, this is not the case. I am incredibly grateful to Head Auror Ronald Weasley for shining a light on this tragedy. Still, we as a nation are in mourning. Not since the wars against Voldemort have we seen such heartbreak. It is little comfort to know what happened to the victims, but it is still comfort. We are working out how many victims Rodolphus Lestrange has killed over the past year. Yet I can, at least, say that I have utter faith that Lestrange will be captured. He will answer to these unspeakable crimes."
"We will overcome. Our thoughts are with the victims and their families. So many of us have lost a friend or a loved one from this travesty, we are united in that. We are also united in the faith and passionate desire that darkness will never again flood our lands."
"Today, we remember. We remember our muggle neighbours who ran afoul of this monster. We remember the innocent witches and wizards. We remember those who were only trying to live. We remember," the Minister paused for a long moment, "we remember our friends. Tonight, we'll raise a glass to them all."
The 'Daily Prophet' stands with the Minister and extend our thoughts and prayers to the families of those affected. Today's paper covers the Sweeney and Ripper cases in depth. Highlights include: a synopsis of the crime sprees (pgs 3-5), 'The Magic of Animaguses' (pg 6), a history of Ronald Weasley's Auror career (pg 8), a reprinted interview 'The Couple of the Century: Potter Newlyweds!' (pg 9-10), 'Who Is Rodolphus Lestrange?' (pg 11), a statement by Charlotte (Lottie) Fawcett's parents (pg 12), and 'Is This The Third Blood War?' (pg 13).
In following weeks, we will endeavour to publish as much as we can about this evolving case.
"Serena Rowle," Ron hummed to himself, trying to balance a quill on his nose. He'd been doing this (the muttering and the balancing) a lot in the last ten minutes, though Orla and Euan continued to dutifully look up at each new statement. "Rodolphus Lestrange is the main guy and he's a xenophobe. Why'd he recruit an American?"
Orla shrugged. "Her family emigrated from Britain only in, what was it?"
"November 1981." Ron went cross-eyed looking at the quill, careful to keep it even. "Right after Harry offed Voldemort the first time. Okay, so Lestrange was fine with contacting old Death Eater families. Why her? There was something about the Rowles, I swear." In one of the files? A 'Prophet' expose? An old half-overheard Order meeting? The answer came to him in a flash. "Hermione mentioned it! Course she did." He wasn't even surprised. "She said the Rowle family was a nasty bunch. They were known for harming muggles."
There was something else. He scratched through his mind, eyes not leaving the quivering quill. "Something about frogs. Trevor?"
"Trevor?" Euan asked. Ron remembered he was thinking aloud.
Ron waved it away. "An old dormmate's pet. Nah, it's the frog thing." The full answer hit him and he wasn't sure if he should laugh or groan. "The Rowles turned muggles into frogs! They started that whole thing and—damn it, Hermione told me this months ago." They'd had the conversation right after Halloween. They'd been so close, even then, but hadn't made the final leap. "Of course Lestrange would recruit a metamorphmagus Rowle, who also happened to be a disgraced potion's master! The perfect pair."
Orla was biting her lip. "If the Rowle family had a history of human transfiguration, do you think they might have been working on spells or potions like this?"
"It takes a tonne to make an experimental potion," Euan gestured at the academic articles he was scanning through. "Urgh, I can't make heads or tails out of it. All I have gotten is you can't just 'come up' with a potion. You're talking about years of prototypes, trials, and errors."
"Or decades," Orla said thoughtfully. "With Rowle's expertise and Lestrange's experiments during the wars, they would have had decades of experience between them. If they combined forces and both had been working on similar enough projects…?"
"Ba da boom!" Ron clapped his hands, making the quill fall off his nose. "A transfiguration potion, way ahead of its time, which actually transfigures. My bet is they weren't expecting survivors. How surprised do you think they were when Halloween happened?"
Orla grew quieter. "They were likely delighted."
Ron smiled grimly. "Yeah, I'm sure the monsters were over the moon."
Remembering Those Lost
'Witch Weekly' — Miranda Rotchill
'Witch Weekly' is as horrified as all of you. The Sweenies have been like something out of a mystery novel, but we always thought there would be a happy ending! It hardly seems the time to gossip, as much as we like it (and feel that it could lighten the mood).
Our cover story explains the ins and outs of what's happened the past few days. Here, we want to look at the human aspect of it. While there are many victims that we could cover, we're all interested in our favourite family.
Ginny Potter has only been seen sporadically since news broke of her husband's death. Wearing not solely black clothes, she quite understandably hid her face from the photographs. The Potter children have also been spotted with various aunts and uncles, most of whom sneered at or hexed our reporters (who were careful to keep a respectful distance). There was one interesting incident when George Weasley was ushering Teddy Lupin (Harry Potter's godson) to nursery school. Mr. Weasley didn't seem to take any notice of the reporters, though each camera did mysteriously transform into toy herrings.
We are extremely sorry to all of the families affected by this tragedy. We wish to give a particular apology to Ginny Potter, as our reporting during her husband's disappearance might have been a touch overboard. We never meant to imply that Mrs. Potter was behind this crime spree. Though we may have gotten carried away in drawing conclusions, due to the Potters' marital issues and Mr. Potter's immense fortune.
On a not-dissimilar note, none of the victims have yet been officially declared dead by the Ministry. The Magical Law Enforcement has stated they will not do so until proficient evidence has been produced about who has been killed. We cannot imagine how much of a trying time this would be.
You can see biographies on some of the victims in our special editions of 'Witch Weekly', out in shops now!
Further Disappearances: Sweeney's Revenge?
'Daily Prophet' — Emmanuel Stevens
With Britain still shocked from the Ministry's revelation last week concerning the Sweenies, we are sorry to announce that five more people have disappeared: Moira Green, Timothy Wilkins, Jessica Monroe, Millicent Bulstrode, and May Penang. All five are purebloods, but that's where the resemblance ends.
By far the most mysterious of these vanishings was Jessica Monrow. Seventeen year old, Monroe is the outgoing and energetic Head Girl at Hogwarts. She was playing Seeker for the Gryffindor team against Slytherin yesterday, when she touched the golden snitch and instantly vanished. Monroe has had a perfect record for catching the snitch, which makes her the clear target.
Her teammates, the crowded stands, and the quickly responding Aurors were unable to find her. An investigation is ongoing for how 'they' got into Hogwarts, and neither the Monroe family or Headmistress Minerva McGonagall has yet made a comment.
"What the HELL do you mean, they're declaring him dead?"
"The Ministry isn't, it's public opinion."
"Don't give me that! I'm holding a godforsaken MEMORIAM FOR HIM!" Ron waved the special edition of 'Witch Weekly' furiously, where Harry's face smiled from the front cover.
"If the public believes something it gains hold. We can't very well announce there may be a survivor—"
"WHY NOT?"
"Stop screaming! We can't because it'd be possibly misleading the public."
"Who cares?"
"It might also spark the Sweenies to further action. Look what they've done so far! We announced what they were doing, and Lestrange immediately kidnapped five more people!"
Ron gaped at Hermione. "We're talking about a phoenix being unspeakably tortured. How could Lestrange escalate that?"
She gave him an almost pitying look. "They could televise it. Or they could transform Harry—if it really is Harry—back to his human form and actually kill him." They both stopped, even Hermione looking surprised at her words. She shook her head to clear it. "Right now, Lestrange thinks he's torturing us with the belief that Harry's surely dead. If we announced that we had regained hope, how do you think Lestrange would try to squash it?"
Ron looked at the special edition of 'Witch Weekly' in his hand. His fingers wrinkled and squished the edge.
"We'll hunt down Lestrange," Hermione said into the silence. "When we find him, we find the phoenix! Look at me. It'll be okay, we can do something. This is a blip in the road."
"What if the Ministry declares him dead?"
She swallowed, teetering on the edge of this. "We'll try to stop it."
"What if we can't, like you said before?" He looked back at her. "There will be a funeral, mourning in the streets. Then my family…Merlin. We need to at least tell them. Ginny deserves it! Mum keeps sobbing, we can't justify this!"
Hermione looked miserable. "It comes back to false hope…"
"DAMN IT!" Ron shouted, pivoting around as his shoulders shook. "You know who I feel like? Albus Bloody Dumbledore. Doing messed up things for the 'Greater Good', and convincing myself it isn't the road to hell."
She slowly approached, wrapping her arms around him. "They aren't horrible things," she murmured. "They aren't good things. They're just…things."
"We're keeping silent," Ron hissed, though intertwined his fingers with hers. "Blimey, if this was some government conspiracy I could handle it. Lying to the public? Whatever. But it's my sister! My mum! What'll we do if there's a funeral? What'll happen if this stretches on?"
Hermione hesitated. "We'll have to catch Lestrange before that. Which we can. This won't stretch on."
"It already has."
"Operation Find the Phoenix!"
"We aren't calling it that."
"Operation Phoenix Flight?"
"No."
"S'alright, I have dozens of these. Operation Flying Fury!"
Hermione sighed fondly. "You are such a child."
Ron grinned. "Come on, you needed a laugh."
"George."
"What? No, why?"
"Because he's a mad genius." Ron scribbled his name on the list over Hermione's protests. "He believes anything's possible, same reason we're going with Luna."
Ron whistled for attention, bringing the rambunctious room to semi-order. "Hello people, thanks for coming! You're here because we're desperate and might or might not be creating a government conspiracy."
Hermione headdesked. Minerva McGonagall arched her brow. George cackled, and the Scamanders looked vaguely interested. They were all in the living room, and Ron was thankful that George and Rolf had only started three fires so far. McGonagall also hadn't yet given him detention (thought she'd been less than happy at the mysterious invitation), which he was pleased about.
"Or we're conspiracy theorists?" Ron scratched his head as he passed around some folders stuffed full (courtesy of his extremely organised wife). "Whichever way, you're all here because you're experts in certain fields or because you're flat-out insane. This isn't sanctified by the ministry, it's just Hermione and I doing what we always do."
A spark of exasperated understanding came to McGonagall's eyes. Her lips thinned. "I assume this isn't about Miss Monroe, and that the two of you are involved in yet further ridiculous hijinks?" Hermione's fidget gave the answer. "I can only assume this has some outlandish thing to do with Mr. Potter."
"When does it not?" Ron grinned sheepishly, though he flinched at the mention of Jessica Monroe. He'd been visiting with her parents, who were heartbroken and desperate to find her. "But look: what we're about to say doesn't go farther than this room. It's a crazy theory that we can't prove without your help, and it'd create havoc if released without proof."
"Basically," Hermione diplomatically stepped in, "you need to agree to not discuss this with anyone in the immediate future. Not your friends, family, or even the Minister of Magic if he came knocking at your door. We don't care who it is—not a word!"
"That'll make tea with the Queen awkward next week," George chuckled. He was crammed on the couch next to the Scamanders. "I'm guessing this applies to spouses?" At a nod he didn't seem too depressed. "Can I tell Angelina it's super secret nonsense from you two?"
Hermione hesitated. "Yes, but nothing further."
Luna and Rolf exchanged a glance. But they didn't argue, and the other two were clearly waiting for answers, so he stormed ahead.
"Alright," Ron drawled, "here's the thing. We have a daft theory that the Sweenies transformed Harry Potter into a phoenix. The transformation would've killed him, but phoenixes are reborn from the ashes. So we have to prove that Harry's alive and is currently being held hostage and horribly tortured by Death Eaters. There also might be other immortal animals that survived and need to be rescued, we haven't the faintest. Savvy?"
There was a long silence.
"Blimey," George snorted, taking out a piece of parchment filled with bullet points. "About time you lot came up with that! I've been going mental at the Burrow with all the sobbing, not knowing who'd figured it out. It's either a phoenix or an augurey for Harry, and I'm absolutely positive Lottie's a fire spitting Norwegian Ridgeback. Oh! This also puts a damper on your 'don't tell anyone' plan: Angie and I made the list together."
"Dragons aren't immortal," Luna calmly corrected as Rolf took out their own parchment (though this was more of a small novella). She turned with a smile to the stunned MLE officials. "We have a complete list of immortal creatures, if you'd like. We made it the moment we heard the Ministry's announcement about the Sweenies."
George grumbled at the correction. "My list's better."
"I'm sure it's excellent," Rolf sympathetically. "Though I don't see Harry as an augurey."
George guffawed. "Have you met the bloke? Sarcastic and moody to a tea."
"WHAT in BLAZES are the speaking of!" McGonagall at last exclaimed, coming over her shock. "Phoenixes and dragons? This is not a matter of what Mr. Potter or anyone changed into. Animagus creatures cannot be magical, the transformation would be fatal!"
"We know," George said patiently, "it's why we're looking at immortal creatures. Though some of us," he gave a pointed look, "are better at looking than others."
Rolf raised an eyebrow. Luna patted his hand. "I'm sure Harry would make a very good augurey, George."
"Thank you."
"This is beyond foolish." McGonagall turned back to the still-stunned Ron and Hermione. "We are speaking of a basic incompatibility of magics. I am extremely sorry, but this is one unlikely hypothetical on top of the other. Not only are you assuming that there is an unprecedented potion that can rewrite animagus forms, you are then assuming that the changed creatures can be immortal—then making the further leap that some of the victims have been transformed into a 'hail Mary'!"
A silence blanketed.
McGonagall seemed immediately remorseful. "I apologise, I hate having to dash your hopes. But what I am requesting is hard evidence."
"What d'ya need?"
The Headmistress blinked at Ron's question. She gave it a long thought. "At minimum? Some of the hypotheticals have to become tangible. Do you have proof beyond a doubt that the victims are being transformed in such a way?"
"Yup," Ron replied with a quirk of his lips. "It's chapters 1-3 in that booklet there. Nice 'little' summary of our crazy theories, blame Hermione." She sent him a small smile, over her shock.
"I see." McGonagall scrutinised the folder, but didn't yet read through it. "With the assumption that the proof is therein? I'd admit that an experimental potion could, though unlikely exist. With a Death Eater behind this I cannot question whether or not they'd do such a revolting 'experiment'." She hissed the last word as though she was being forced. "At the top of my mind are two questions: is it possible for immortal creatures to be created in such a way, and do you have any evidence whatsoever that this has occurred?"
"Yes," Hermione said quietly, drawing the room's complete attention. "The reason we're convinced is that we had the evidence before we had the theory. For the last few…" she took an unsteady breath, "the last few months, the black market has been inundated with—"
"Phoenix parts," George cut in, connecting the dots at exactly that moment. His eyes widened with horror. "Merlin. I've been happy about the lowered prices! I never thought that…bloody hell." The room's eyes were now on him. "You aren't just talking about phoenix feathers, are you."
"Phoenix feathers, blood, tears, hearts, and heads," Ron spoke roughly, ignoring the gasps throughout. "Primarily—or fully—taken from one phoenix. They didn't start appearing right after Halloween, but that is when the Rippers stopped leaving out magical creatures. So," he turned to the aghast Headmistress, "you wanted evidence? There it is. A phoenix is being held captive and is being butchered. Do we have enough proof it's Harry, or any of the victims? Legally, no. But screw it. Even if it's 'just' an ordinary phoenix, we're bloody well going to find it!"
McGonagall took her shaking hand away from her mouth, staring raptly at the two. "How," she cleared her voice, "how can I help?"
Hermione coughed, clearing her throat. "We are working off of a hypothetical theory, which we're well aware of. We're thus seeking two different avenues: to proof or disprove this theory, and to—with the assumption it's true—seek solutions to how to help any survivors we find. Now, all of this is in addition to the public MLE investigation which is hunting down the Sweenies. So the focus on finding the location won't be part of this, ah…"
"Quasi-legal conspiracy?" Luna helpfully supplied, brightening.
Hermione winced but went with it. "Yes, precisely. On that note? One of the tasks we had in mind you've already done, which is making a list of immortal creatures. In addition to that, Minerva? We would love to have your expertise on animaguses. We have samples of the unknown potion and it would be interesting if you recognised any components. We also have many questions about what occurs when a human stays in their animagus form for a very long time, say, weeks or months. We need to find out the psychological effects and how to help them through it."
McGonagall closed her eyes, though nodded her head in reluctant agreement. "Foolish shenanigans, indeed."
Ron shrugged, not able to argue. "Luna, Rolf? We need to know every damn thing we can about phoenixes. Physically, mentally, we don't care. If you could also look at the body parts we have in evidence, it'd be a huge help to know if we're talking about one phoenix or many. Also, could you look at the trends in the black market? Hermione and I only know vaguely how rare these things are. Like," he searched for an example, "say you find out the number of parts being sold exceeds the population of that rare creature. We're looking for oddities, things that don't fit. Ya know? We want to get a handle on how many survivors we could be talking about."
Luna and Rolf likewise nodded, a mixture of pensive and eager. Luna also stared at them for quite a bit longer while Rolf instantly started mumbling ideas to himself.
"Then George." Ron turned to his brother. "You cool with doing the impossible?"
George waved this away. "When am I never."
"Great." Ron wondered if he should be regretting this. "We're talking about an experimental potion. I can't even guess what state Harry's in, or any possible survivors. Who knows if it's like a normal animagus transformation and he's kept his human mind? Or, even if it is like a normal one, he might've been in this form for months."
McGonagall gave a weary sigh. "Misters Weasley, animal instincts can take over and start to stick after a week."
"Blimey." George's expression became thoughtful as he contemplated the true problem. "You're worried he's literally a phoenix."
"Or otherwise lost his mind, yeah." Ron shrugged helplessly. "I don't even know if the transformation's reversible. So, that's where you come in. Think you can figure out a reverse to a maybe-potion, that we only kinda have samples of? All while, uh, figuring out how sane he might be?"
George shrugged. "Why the hell not."
Hermione was saying good bye to the others and Minerva McGonagall was very obviously lingering in their living room. Ron bit the bullet and turned to her, knowing it'd be about Jessica Monroe. Surprisingly though, she began with something else:
"How certain are you that he is a phoenix?"
Ron blinked, thinking they'd gone over this. "Pretty damn sure. We've been finding all the feathers and stuff—"
"Since well after Halloween," Headmistress McGonagall waved at the folder. "Various people were kidnapped around the same time."
"Well okay, but it's Harry, so—"
McGonagall sighed, deflating as she did so. "Mr. Weasley, I understand Lestrange could be altering the animal forms. But I can tell you with a fair certainty what Mr. Potter's animagus would have been under normal circumstances. Unfortunately, it bears little resemblance to a phoenix."
Ron stood stock still, nearly gaping. "Uh, how d'ya know that?"
She looked at him with something resembling hesitation. "It is not definite, but one's animagus typically mirrors one's Patronus. For example, mine is a cat for both. I would hazard a guess that Mr. Potter would have taken after his father, at least originally."
Ron's thoughts drew to a halt. "You think he'd have been a stag?" He'd been assuming Harry would've transformed into a bird. Because, duh. That was where he'd gotten the idea of a phoenix from in the first place! If Harry could have been a stag animagus…one completely lacking wings…
"There are exceptions, such as Albus Dumbledore." The Headmistress acknowledged. "His Patronus was, most ironically, a phoenix. But when Albus took the animagus test he was delighted to learn of his inner bumblebee."
Ron breathed again and felt a plucker of a laugh, despite everything. "He didn't—"
"Albus felt that, unfortunately, the form was not useful enough for the great effort it would take to transform," she said. "I also must add that, if you are correct, Lestrange has delightedly thrown every rule out of the window. So I wouldn't take my comment too seriously. However," the noises in the entranceway had died down. Hermione was now lingering in the doorway, quietly listening with an expressionless face, "there are two other things of import."
"Yeah?"
"First, human life spans do not alter with the animagus transformation." The Headmistress said. "I haven't the faintest concerning phoenix's regenerative traits. But I could guess that if a human had been transformed into this, at least their human body would certainly not be immortal."
He hadn't thought about that. He wasn't sure what he thought about that.
McGonagall continued. "Second, animagus animals typically adopt a distinguishing feature from their human counter. For some, their glasses are imprinted. Or a birthmark. Or," she finished solemnly, "a scar. Do bear this in mind during your search."
Ron swallowed, nodding. He couldn't help but think of 'Scabbers'. A downright ancient rat with a missing toe; yep, he understood. "Thank you, Headmistress."
"I wish you both the best." McGonagall reached for her cloak before pausing. "I assume it's foolish to ask what the chances any of them had?"
Only silence answered. Hermione approached them, wrapping her arms around Ron's.
"Of course it is," the Headmistress sighed. "Yet, until we know, I do admit it's a nice thought. Miss Monroe loved flying as well, she was quite spectacular on a broom." She sent a pensive look at the fireplace. "I believe her Patronus was a dove. You can almost imagine, hmm?"
No one broke the fragile tension in the air. It was as though the very dust was chained to each other, coating the room and vibrating with each breath.
Examining the Animagus
'Transfiguration Weekly' — Fiona Change
Great Britain's abuzz with the Sweenies and the Rippers, and even the Ministry seems to have side-stepped a key question. Is this kind of animagus experimentation possible?
The Ministry of Magic has announced that Rodolphus Lestrange endeavoured to turn muggles, witches, and wizards alike into magical creatures. The Ministry believes this was done through an experimental potion that would 'twist' one's natural animagus into a magical creature: transforming and killing him.
As our regular readers will know, this could potentially be impossible. Or highly unlikely, at the very least. Let's start by examining how animaguses currently work. Becoming an animagus is not technically transfiguration. Transfigurations are temporary spells; once you become an animagus, you can permanently transform from human to animal at will.
Every magical human has the potential to turn into an animal, but only one very specific type of animal. You cannot choose it and it appears to be related to your personality. This has not been altered in the history of this transformation. What Lestrange is potentially doing—attempting to alter the animagus form—is highly incredible. Furthermore, the animagus animals are always mundane (non-magical). This occurs for various reasons.
"It would be impossible to survive!" Exclaimed transfiguration expert Fletchley Switch when we asked him. "This returns to transfiguration basics. One type of magic cannot be switched with another without grave consequences. When a human is bitten by a werewolf, their body and very being 'revolts' against the foreign magic—and this is only when a foreign magic is partly imbued."
"This has little to do with the animal forms and everything to do with magic. Think of how many of the weakest potions would be poisonous to muggles, as their bodies can't handle that level of magic. It's much the same for wizards and witches, though our 'tolerance' for magic is obviously higher. Yet, it is nowhere near as high as the magical levels that, say, unicorns or centaurs exhibit."
"It is not only our tolerance that is a problem," Switch continued. "Magic changes in each animal its in. This makes it incompatible from one form to another. There's a reason that even a partly different species, such as a werewolf or vampire, is so painful to transform into."
We then asked Switch not if a human to magical creature transformation would be fatal, but if this transfiguration is even possible. Possible, in that, the person would change shape.
"Yes," Switch at last answered. "It is theoretically possible, but as I said, no one could survive that. I am so very sorry to the families if this did occur. I wish I could give them hope."
Ron visited his parents. He hadn't been doing that much lately. That is, he still saw them every week for dinner. But this, for a Weasley, was practically distant. He didn't want to dwell on this, nor at the nagging guilt in his head. It was easier to say he was dreadful with crying people and leave it at that.
"Hey dad." That Ron had made his way to his father's shed rather than the main Burrow was another thing he didn't want to think about. That list was growing steadily every day. "How're things?"
Arthur Weasley turned brightly from whatever he'd been working on. The shed was full and cluttered and stuffed with very welcome distractions. "Ron!" A clap on his arm. "Come here, come here. I've just confiscated this from Manchester. Dung has been up to his old tricks."
Ron squinted at the item. "It's a piece of metal?"
"Muggles call it a 'pod'." Arthur nodded knowledgeably, twiddling with a circle that filled up half the rectangular surface. "You see this interesting doohickey? I'm not precisely sure what it's supposed to do. But Dung has been selling modified versions. If you click here, or no, maybe here? Yes, the tiny one on the side first, then the middle one. Lights up like lumos!"
"Huh." Ron tilted his head. The contraption looked vaguely familiar. He thought he'd seen it at his in-laws. Or out in muggle London? "I think," he recalled Christmas carols filling the Grangers' living room, "music's supposed to come out of it."
"How interesting," his father said with fascination. Though he was soon knowingly eyeing his son. "It's good to see you."
"You too."
"I mean it." Arthur put down the object and set his hands on Ron's shoulders. "It's wonderful to see you outside of the 'Prophet's pages."
Ron squirmed. "I'm sorry I haven't been around."
"That's not what I meant." He shook his head. "We're incredibly proud of you. But in times like this, family can bring a comfort. There's no reason to keep away."
A frog was back in his throat. "I know."
Arthur stared at him seriously. "I'm not going to ask if you're alright, there's no need. Just know," his own voice hitched, "know that we're all hurting. But we're here for each other. I," he emphasised, "will always be here for you. If you need a sounding board, a listening ear, a distraction? I can be all of that and more. You only need to ask."
Ron properly looked at his father. He hated this because, actually, he was doing alright. Sure, his best friend was being tortured. But he knew they were going to find the bloke. It was his dad's eyes that were filled with sympathy and raw pain. "The same goes for me," Ron said earnestly. "I know I've been avoiding everyone, but I'm here if you need me. Yeah?"
Arthur smiled sadly.
Ron bit his lip for all the things we couldn't say. He wanted to shout the truth at his father—Harry was alive! They shouldn't be mourning! It'd be okay, he'd find the man!
But he didn't. He swallowed, the frog cutting in.
"Your mum's inside," Arthur said lightly, letting go of Ron after a last squeeze of his shoulders. "She'd love to see you."
"How's she been?" Ron said thickly.
Arthur didn't say anything for a heartbeat, looking away towards the cluttered shed walls. Ron wondered what he was actually seeing. "You've never experienced the loss of your child," his dad said slowly, "which I am so very grateful for. It hits in a way that…" he coughed, looking back at Ron with reddening eyes. "Your mum's coping. She is glad for the closure and is grateful to you. It just…"
Ron pictured his mum after the Battle of Hogwarts, a shadow of herself flitting from room to room. She'd been so lost. It was months before she raised her voice at any of them, and a year before he stopped finding her softly sobbing. He wondered how long she'd continued to cry. Maybe she'd never stopped. "It's like Fred?"
He gave a watery sigh, lost as well. "Like Fred."
Summer Society Events
'Witch Weekly' — Romilda Vane
—has been postponed indefinitely. The annual Twilfitt Gala has been outright cancelled, for the second time in its 77 year history (the first cancellation was due to the hotel spontaneously turning into an aquarium, complete with plastic palm trees). The reason for this flurry of postponements and cancellations was the reveal that the Sweeney criminals (assumed to be Rodolphus Lestrange and co) have been targeting upper class purebloods. Many of these families are taking sudden, extended vacations far beyond British shores.
However, some are staying put. Though even most of them are not mourning the loss of the social calendar.
"They should have cancelled the lot the moment Mr. Potter disappeared," Astoria Malfoy scoffed while she shopped in the nearly deserted Diagon Alley. "He vanished from the bloody Ministry, and people still think galas aren't giant targets? Hah! I'll pass, thank you very much."
Lisa was swaying in front of Ron's desk. She didn't look horrified and hadn't said any news, so he was curious rather than concerned. He'd given her a few weird looks but figured she'd get around to it.
"Sooo," she said, "Dmitri and I have been talking."
"Uh huh," Ron said. "Not about the phoenix thing?"
"Not about the phoenix thing," Lisa reassured him. They'd talked about this and felt the ruffled man should have at least a bit of time to focus on his traumatised cousin. "We were talking about victimology and how the Sweenies rose up again once we announced."
She stopped. Ron tilted his head.
Lisa let out a long breath. "The current victims are purebloods with high magical power, typically well-known, and some with ties to MLE or who have pissed off Lestrange. My question: Ron, why don't you have a guard?"
He relaxed, having expected something worst. "Relax, it's fine."
"You're a key target!"
"I'm really not. Look," Ron twiddled his wand, "if they were going to kill me, they would've already done it. Especially after I announced what they were doing! They attacked Harry, they attacked Sue, and it doesn't look like they're going to touch me. Ya know why?"
"Of course I don't!"
Ron grinned at her. "Because I'm the stupid one."
Lisa blinked. "Uh, what now?"
"If I were to guess, Lestrange's cool with me being in charge. I'm sure the announcement shook him, but don't you know my reputation?"
"Um…"
"The stupid one of the 'Golden Trio'." Ron answered for her, now trying to spin his wand around his fingers. "The comic relief and pushover. The bloke who probably—literally—slept his way into being Head Auror." He managed a proper spin and smiled. "Lestrange thinks I'm an idiot who manipulates family connections and, likely, took credit from my wife for outing the Sweenies. He isn't going to attack me."
Lisa gave him a hard look before nodding. "I'm ordering you a guard."
Ron gave a jerk, dropping his wand. "OI. I'm your BOSS!"
She turned to the door, shouting over her shoulder. "Your WIFE outranks you!"
Legality Loopholes
Segment from the 'Daily Prophet' — Jacob Grimes
—legal questions abound in this case. An odd one at the top: was Minister Shacklebolt out of line for outright claiming Rodolphus Lestrange's guilt? Lestrange has not been given a trial, after all, nor has the MLE put forth substantial evidence proving that he was the culprit. Treating a suspect like the guilty party is a miscarriage of justice, particularly as it has turned the tide of public opinion entirely against Lestrange. An unbiased trial is now nearly impossible. Furthermore, if he is innocent? Than the Ministry is after the wrong man, and the 'right' one will remain at large.
We are not forgetting that Lestrange has been behind numerous crimes, what with his rank amongst the Death Eaters and the list of Undesirables. But this is simply the principle of the law! The British way! A prevailing of justice that—
"The Scottish Highlands is our best bet." Orla had laid down a huge map of the British Isles on a conjured table, having already littered it with marks. "They'd need a huge place for all the animals and to have it be far enough away that no one would hear anything."
Euan made a noise from over 'Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them'. "Hello, silencing charms? Besides, the Australian outback or Siberia would be even more deserted."
"They'd need to be in Britain." Ron was once again pouring over the notes from the Rippers, looking for anything he'd missed. "All the people we know of have been taken from Britain, and the baddies need to be close enough to apparate or portkey in and out of London. Also, Rodolphus Lestrange's behind it. The Death Eaters were all xenophobic. He's somewhere in the British Isles."
"They could be in something that's larger on the inside," Euan pointed out. "Newt Scamander did that with a suitcase back in the '20s. He hid a whole menagerie in there!"
"Scamander had them in a bag with a bad lock, which let the creatures loose in New York City." Orla rolled her eyes. "Enlarged bags are temperamental. Lestrange wouldn't risk everything on that."
Ron got a flash of an entire library tumbling over in Hermione's beaded bag (multiple times, sweet Merlin), and had to agree.
Euan scoffed. "Fine, the Highlands. Or northern Ireland. Or the Hebrides. On a more important note, I've crosslisted the Scamanders' and Weasleys' lists of immortal and semi-immortal creatures! Do semi-immortal count?"
"Who the hell knows," was Ron's simple reply.
"Well, phoenixes we already know. Then we have basilisks, augureys, dementors, etc. In the 'incredibly strong but could be killed' category, there's creatures like dragons and giants. You want the full list?"
Orla's eyes crossed as she looked up. "Would Mr. Potter have turned into a basilisk?"
Both men stopped to stare at her.
"I'm just saying!" Orla defended at the disbelieving looks. "He's a parseltongue and sorta-kinda-absolutely terrifying."
"Harry's an ex-parseltongue and a sentimental teddy bear, but I get your point." Ron tilted his head. "I could also see Hungarian Horntail. But nah, phoenix."
Ron had heard a whisper of a whisper, from a whisper, which had altogether been too loud for his liking. It'd been a glimmer of a rumour: that Shacklebolt had been in a meeting with senior Wizengamot members. It would have seemed innocent if it hadn't been so secret. He didn't have a good feeling about this.
A disillusionment and various distractions later, Ron had eased past the dungbombs he'd thrown (and the shouting, racing people) and through the Minister's door into the empty personal office. He'd only given a few thoughts to: 1. How easy that had been, and 2. What was he looking for?, when he noticed an open folder levitating in the air. Pages were being turned. There was also a familiar humming.
Ron closed the door and cleared his throat. The folder jumped and was thrown to the desk. "You heard that," he said in amusement, "but you didn't hear my dungbombs or the screams?"
A sheepish silence. He wasn't sure how it was sheepish, but it was.
The folder began levitating again. "Hello love," Hermione said from the empty space, "I see we're both committing treason."
"More like a felony." He stepped forward to peer at the papers. "You found anything interesting from the meeting?"
"They're waiting until May 2nd." Seriousness returned to her disembodied voice. A single paper rose and was waved, but he was too shocked to read it. "They plan to talk to Ginny and us straight after the ceremony at Hogwarts to get our blessings."
"Like hell we will."
"Ginny might." The Hermione-shaped-air set back the paper. "That could be enough for them."
"We have to talk to her!"
"No, we don't." The folder closed with a snap. If Ron could see her, he knew she'd be staring at him with fiery determination. "So what if she or the other families give their permission? What we have to do is stop the Ministry from acting. If we do that, the victims won't be declared dead!"
Slow realisation came over him. A grin spread. "Have a few thoughts about that?"
"Well," Hermione drawled, putting the folder back in the desk, "it's not like we've never sabotaged the Ministry before."
Ron had to laugh at the familiarity. "I'll chat to George. At least we won't have to break in this time, hmm?"
"It could get us both fired," Hermione said nonchalantly, closing up everything and tossing out some spells to hide their presence.
"Even better." Ron found her disillusioned hand, pulling them both towards the door. "Let's just not set another dragon on Diagon."
"We'll try, husband."
"GEORGE?" Ron hollered into the backroom of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, knowing the privacy charms were snapping into place behind him as the closed the door. "Need to talk to you about not-treasonous and not-fatal ways to make Shacklebolt's life a living he-he-heaven on Earth?"
Angelina gave him a look as Ron came to a dead stop, only having seen her round the corner.
Ron cleared his throat. "I'm throwing a surprise party for the Minister?"
Angelina scoffed, arms crossing. "George told me everything. You're weirdly a genius but you're also wrong: Lottie's a dragon. She's alive. Screw you."
"Sure." Ron very much didn't want to have this conversation. He gestured back at the door. "You know what, I'll just be heading out—"
"You also left us with nothing to work with!" She steamrolled ahead, making it clear he wasn't to leave. "Which hey, I get. But for a super secret government conspiracy, you are seriously underfunded."
"Had a lot of experience with those?"
"You want us," Angelina said frustratedly, hands pointing at a blackboard that he only now noticed was covered in scribbles and potions equations (as were the three others behind it), "to deconstruct a hypothetical and not-actual potion, reverse-engineer a counter to this not-actual potion, test to see this not-actual cure's ramifications on a not-actual phoenix, all while figuring out if this not-actual creature might or might not be Harry, who might or might not be immortal and/or insane? ARE YOU MAD!"
"Well, ah," Ron said weakly, not liking the sound of any of that, "I know it's a tall order. You don't have to do the potion part. Or any of it, really. I'm more interested in the, 'make-Harry-human-again' part."
"Which is still insane!" Angelina said, but she now sounded a bit excited by the challenge. "Sure, it could be the animagus reversal charm would do the trick. But we don't know that! If it doesn't we should either force through another transfiguration, or we pierce the mind first and walk them through changing back. If it's like a regular animagus, that is. I'd be more worried about getting rid of the animal mind, but Harry and Lottie are stubborn. Still, there's the months of captivity to take account of. Anyone would go barmy in the best case, so adding in everything else?"
"Not reassuring," Ron felt off-balanced. This was from Angie's 'explanation', as well as her continued insistence that Lottie was fine.
"More likely than not," Angie admitted, "if you even find them they'll be mad as hatters. The only real chance? Try random stuff on them and hope you get lucky. Oh, and that Harry sticks around and doesn't just flame off like a, well, like an augerey or phoenix. And that being killed however many times hasn't screwed up Merlin knows what." She scrubbed at her head, a frown in place. "Do you still have any of the animagus corpses? I don't want to be insensitive, but you think their families would be okay with them being tested on? We want to try to transfigure some of them back to themselves. No promises, obviously."
"I'll ask around," Ron said as he thought of Lisa's scouting for the animals.
Angelina looked a bit sick. "I also need to get those…those phoenix parts to test. Can you get Ginny to send over anything of Harry's she's got lying about, old hairbrushes or shirts? We want to try polyjuice variants, so his hair would come in handy. Oh wait, oh god, have you told Ginny yet?"
"Not exactly," Ron said meekly.
She'd clearly given up on sanity. "Fine! Fine, whatever, steal Harry's things and I'll get Lottie's. Have you thought about the temperature problem?"
"Temperature problem?"
She rolled her eyes. "Phoenixes are hot. Temperature-wise, that is. I'm not hitting on Harry. What I'd worry about? How to cool him down in case the heat transfers in 'humanifying' him. Also, what about burning days? Sweet heavens, bursting into flame like that. Though the extra strength would be nice and healing tears are pretty handy. Not to mention being able to fly, then the implications with Quidditch…"
"Quidditch?" Ron said disbelievingly, struggling to make sense of most of his sister-in-law's ramble. Though, he supposed, it was surely better than if George was telling him this.
"Absolutely," Angelina said without a trace of remorse. "If Harry gets over being insane and traumatised, imagine being able to turn into an augerey or a phoenix? The flying alone! Hah, as though the bloke could get any weirder."
Ron wasn't sure whether to be relieved or terrified that Angelina was so gleeful about all of this. Though it was amazing to see someone in this family acting like their old self. Partly, that is, what with her being obsessed with Quidditch.
"This can also help a bunch of other survivors, there's bound to be some," Angelina said with a true grin. "I can't picture Lottie as a phoenix, but a dragon's pretty much immortal. That'd fit her temper to a tea. She's frightening when riled up."
Ron's amusement fled. He thought about the dead hippogriff that had been found near where Lottie had disappeared. "I'm so sorry, but I really don't think she…"
"She's fine, shut the hell up." Angelina crossed her arms. "On another note? I'm going to forget you said anything about the Minister, because holy bananas do I not want to know!"
Crowds at Godric's Hollow
'The Daily Prophet' — John Smith
Mourners have flooded into the small village of Godric's Hollow. Known as the place where the young Harry Potter first defeated the Dark Lord in 1981, his family's home has remained in its destroyed state since. A cemetery is nearby, though it would be hard to see: so many flowers have been left at the entrance so as to bury the gate. Fans have also left numerous engraved sayings along the brick of Mr. Potter's childhood home, before lingering about.
Those who congregated were rewarded Thursday evening with a rare appearance by Ginny Potter. Met with a tremendous amount of well wishes from the crowd, she strayed by the statue that depicts her husband as a baby held by his parents, Lily and James Potter. She then silently walked to the graveyard as a path was cleared before her. It was a scene out of a dream, as Mrs. Potter looked on at the rings of flowers as the crowd kept a respectful distance.
One child darted forward and tugged on the distracted woman's skirt. Turning, Mrs. Potter thanked the girl and took the offered daffodils with a hug. She didn't sign any autographs, though gave a brief statement that she'd been floored by the outpouring of support, and was sure her husband would have been similarly touched.
"Expecto patronum."
The silver dog nipped at Ron and he nearly smiled, glancing down at Hugo sleeping in his arms. The nursery was dark apart from the spell's light. "This goes to Harry like the others, alright? But only if he's alone and no one can hear."
The dog yipped in response.
He thought of what to say. "Hi Harry. I don't know if you remember me, but my name's Ron. I'm your friend and I think I've found out what's happened to you. If I'm right, your head's pretty messed up right now and you're in a lot of pain. I hope you understand this."
That was a good beginning, Ron thought (only slightly traumatised). It covered the basics. He let out a deep sigh, clutching his son closer to him. "You're human. Help is coming. We're trying to find you and we'll never give up, you hear me? You're loved. You are so, so loved. You have an entire family waiting for you, and we'll keep waiting for you to come home! Don't give up, okay mate? We're getting closer."
Vigils have sprouted up around Britain to remember those lost. To find one near you, or to organise your own, please contact—
"'You can laugh!' Luna said, her voice rising, apparently under the impression that Parvati and Lavender were laughing at what she had said rather than what she was wearing. 'But people used to believe there were no such things as the Blibbering Humdinger or the Crumple-Horned Snorkack!'"
—Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix
A/N: I know I know, this story's a slow burn. But the next few chapters will be fun. May 2nd angst, Ginny going ballistic on Ron, and Resurrection Stone shenanigans!