SUCCESSFUL RAID NABS 5 DEATH EATERS; JUNIOR AURORS APPLAUDED

by Alexander Fenetre, The Daily Prophet

The Prophet has learned that the Auror Office conducted a successful operation last night outside of Newcastle, which resulted in the capture of five at-large Death Eaters. Seth Avery, Aldo Nott, Augustus Rookwood, Thorfinn Rowle, and Lawrence Travers were captured alive after a brief struggle and surrendered to Ministry control. They will be imprisoned at Nurmengard Tower in Austria until their sentencing, due to the temporary closure of Azkaban by Minister of Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"We are pleased to report a successful mission that resulted in five clean captures and no injuries to our Auror staff," Shacklebolt said in a statement to the Prophet early this morning. "We are proud of the work our Auror Department has done in the past few months to keep the wizarding community safe, despite being short-staffed."

Shacklebolt also heaped praise on the three Junior Aurors who have joined the division in the past year: Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, and Neville Longbottom, all recent Hogwarts students and primary participants in Lord Voldemort's downfall last spring. "The three newcomers performed brilliantly under pressure, as we all knew they could," said the Minister. "We are pleased with the progress they have made and are proud of their contribution to the department." Potter, Weasley and Longbottom were not available for comment.

Head of the Auror Office, Gawain Robards, was also complimentary of his young trainees. "We had no doubt that Potter and his friends were more than capable in the field and had extensive experience fighting Death Eaters already," he told the Prophet. "They stood and fought bravely alongside our more senior Aurors. We are proud to call them our own and look forward to a long and fruitful career working with them."

"Of course Robards would call us 'Potter and friends'," Ron scowled over his copy of the Prophet. "Harry, do me a favor: if I ever die in battle, you'd better survive, or my death will be announced as 'Potter and friend die tragically'."

Harry and Neville snorted with laughter. The three of them were seated around the kitchen table at Grimmauld Place, each reading their copy of the morning post. Robards had given them the rest of the week off after the raid, partly to recover from the fight but mostly to keep them out of sight from the prying wizarding public. Harry still didn't know if he would be regarded as a hero or a troublemaker upon his return to the Auror Office, but at least the paper had nice things to say.

"My Gran's gonna be so pleased with this!" Neville exclaimed happily. "They mention me by name...on the front page! They haven't done that since we broke into the Department of Mysteries a couple years back."

"Don't let your head get too big now, Longbottom," Ron teased him, but Harry could see that he too was pleased with the positive attention. Harry was used to being plastered across the front page of the Prophet by now, but he was glad Ron and Neville were now getting a taste of the spotlight for a change.

Neville left later that afternoon to visit his Gran and celebrate his success. As soon as he was gone, Ron rounded on Harry. "So c'mon mate, what actually happened last night?" he asked expectantly.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

"I watched Proudfoot struggle with those enchantments for almost ten minutes," said Ron. "Then you fire one hex and the whole thing comes crashing down? The Prophet might not question it, but I know you mate, and you're no Charms expert."

Harry sighed; he had hoped to keep it a secret, but he figured if anyone would understand, it would be Ron. "Alright, fine. I used the Elder Wand, okay? I just figured in a life or death situation like that, it would be stupid not to give myself the best chance, right?"

He expected Ron to look appalled, but instead he looked excited. "Blimey, that explains a lot!" he breathed. "So the wand is the real deal then, huh? How did it feel?"

"Incredible," Harry admitted. "I've never felt so powerful in my life."

"Wicked," Ron said admiringly.

"But it won't happen again," Harry said firmly. "It's too dangerous. Eventually someone will notice and try to take it from me. It's lucky that the Prophet hasn't started speculating on anything yet—"

"Hey, I won't judge your decision one way or the other," said Ron. "But still...it's gotta feel good, right? To know that you're the most powerful wizard alive? At least for a little while?"

"But I feel like I didn't earn it," Harry muttered. "I know the wand finds me worthy, but I can't abuse that power. It'll never satisfy me until I've mastered more and more powerful magic, and I don't want to pursue that life."

"If you say so," Ron shrugged. "Just saying, most wizards will never know that feeling."

"Probably better that way," said Harry. "Wouldn't want another Voldemort or Grindelwald situation to pop up."

"Yeah, I guess not," Ron shrugged. "Still, Dumbledore used it for ages and he turned out okay."

"He was assassinated," Harry reminded Ron. "And the same will happen to me if I'm not careful."

"But how is anyone gonna kill you when you have the Unbeatable Wand?" Ron countered.

"Ron, don't you remember? Dumbledore defeated Grindelwald when he had the Elder Wand. How d'you suppose that happened if it really was unbeatable?"

"Oh. Yeah, right," Ron muttered. "Well, maybe it isn't unbeatable, but you'll be way more beatable with your old wand, won't you?"

"It won't matter, because I won't be a target with my old wand," said Harry.

This argument was getting them nowhere. Ron did not understand the sensation that had gripped Harry so powerfully the previous night. Ron had never known true power like Harry had, the thrills and the horrors that it brings. The only other person who could possibly understand it was Dumbledore, and he was long gone. Harry had a strong urge to return to McGonagall's office and talk to his portrait about it. In fact, the reasons to return to the castle were mounting, and he knew he would have to plan a return trip sometime soon.

Ron left for the Burrow shortly after to see his parents, leaving Harry alone at Grimmauld Place. He didn't have any set plans for the day, so he figured he would lay low and do some tidying up around the house. He scooped up the three copies of the Daily Prophet on the table and moved to toss them into the fireplace, but before he could, a glimpse at something on the back page caught his eye. He set the papers down and picked up the offending page, which bore a picture of a smiling John Dawlish standing beside ex-Minister Pious Thicknesse. Harry read the headline and gasped:

JOHN DAWLISH: DARK ARTS ADMIRER AND PRACTITIONER?

by Rita Skeeter, The Daily Prophet

The wizarding world was shocked a few weeks ago, as was I dear reader, by the news that the Auror Office was investigating one of their own, John Dawlish. What could have caused such a rift in the most venerated department of the Ministry? Why is one of the most respected dark wizard-catchers in Britain suddenly under suspicion? I set out to answer this question for myself, and my research has led me to some incredible – and unfortunate – findings.

John Dawlish was long considered a prodigy from his earliest days at Hogwarts, one of the finest young prospects at the school. All of his teachers had glowing things to say about him, as he achieved Prefect and Head Boy honors and aced all of his school exams en route to his appointment to the Auror Office. However, his fellow students paint a far different picture of Dawlish, one that suggests his reputation wasn't as squeaky-clean as his teachers might have assumed.

"I used to see him in the Restricted Section of the library a lot," recalled Norman Abercrombie, a Hufflepuff student in the same year as Dawlish at Hogwarts. "Always checking out the most bizarre books on dark magic. I assumed it was just research for class, but now I'm not so sure."

"Nobody really liked him much," scowled Janine Goldstein, a Ravenclaw two years below Dawlish. "He was always barking orders, like he knew he was better than everyone else. I heard that he bullied some of the younger students when the teachers weren't looking, but he always denied it."

Dawlish also shared a House with some of the most fearsome dark witches and wizards of the time. He spent time at Hogwarts with numerous future Death Eaters, including Augustus Rookwood, Regulus Black, Lucius Malfoy, and both Rodolphus and Bellatrix Lestrange. House rivalries were especially pronounced at that time, and Dawlish was linked to several hazing rituals against Gryffindor students, which at the time housed some of Dawlish's future Auror co-workers such as Gawain Robards and Amelia Proudfoot.

"If there was one thing Dawlish hated more than any other, it was the Gryffindors," said Saoirse Finnigan, a Gryffindor four years below Dawlish. "I have it on good authority that he sabotaged Gryffindor's Quidditch practices, and intentionally led Gryffindor first-years to get lost with incorrect directions down the corridors. I always knew there was something off about him."

What could explain Dawlish's interest in the Dark Arts? Perhaps the better question is, what could explain his interest in the Auror Office, given his deep roots to dark magic? Though his father was Muggle-born, his mother came from a long and proud line of pure-blooded witches and wizards: the Gaunt family, whose lineage can be traced all the way back to Salazar Slytherin himself. Dawlish lost both of his parents young: his father died in a drunken late-night duel with another wizard, while his mother succumbed to the Dementor's Kiss at Azkaban after torturing two Muggles to death. All this before young John turned eight years old, causing him to be raised by his paternal (Muggle) grandparents.

Dawlish has never spoken of his heritage, and perhaps his interest in the Auror Office was an attempt to distance himself from his family's reputation. But older witches and wizards remain more than familiar with his parents' misdeeds. "Lawrence Dawlish was a mean bloke," recalled Frank Embers, a former neighbor and acquaintance of the Dawlish family. "Not often you see Muggle-borns sorted into Slytherin, you see, and it gave him a chip on his shoulder. Tried to fight anyone who suggested he was unworthy of the title. Not surprising he met the end that he did."

Dawlish's mother, Candice Parkinson, was the daughter of Matilda Gaunt, and inherited her penchant for dark arts and a hatred of Muggles. It is unknown how she ended up with her husband, given his background, but she was known to be equally mean-spirited as him. "Terrifying woman, she was," said Georgia Wolcott, another neighbor from their small village. "Stunningly beautiful, but eyes like murder. Only times I ever saw her out with her son, she was verbally abusing him or spouting nonsense about pure-blood supremacy. Her death was probably the best thing that could've happened to that poor boy."

How much of his parents' philosophies were impressed upon young John at a young age? Did his Muggle parents de-radicalize him enough, or did he secretly wish to follow in their footsteps? His Slytherin ties, and his pro-Ministry leanings during the Second War, should tell us all we need to know. If any readers have news on John Dawlish's whereabouts, or are otherwise familiar with his early life, they are invited to write to the Daily Prophet with any information they can provide…

Harry dropped the paper, stunned. John Dawlish was a Gaunt? Apparently Rita Skeeter hadn't done enough homework to determine that that made him a relative of Voldemort himself – perhaps just one or two families apart, even. Had Dawlish's parents or grandparents known Marvolo or Merope Gaunt? Would Dawlish had figured out his shared lineage with Tom Riddle Jr.? The similarities were eerily similar: a half-blood orphan, sorted into Slytherin, with a chip on his shoulder about his ancestry and a drive to prove himself, beloved by his teachers…

But that's not proof in itself, Harry reminded him. You're also a half-blood orphan that was nearly sorted into Slytherin...

But that was only because of Voldemort's soul fragment in my head…

Still, the Sorting Hat always said you'd do well in Slytherin…

Clearly Dawlish had no problem with being sorted there…

Harry paced about Grimmauld Place, his mind engaged in fierce debate with itself. This certainly confirmed many of his suspicions about Dawlish, and made it even more likely that he was up to no good. He knew enough about Rita Skeeter to parse through the rubbish – none of the student testimonies were all that damning in themselves – but it did all add up to something, anyway. He wasn't widely popular in the school, and if he was, it was only among other Slytherins – his Death Eater contemporaries.

But that suddenly paled in comparison to this Gaunt connection, his shared heritage with Voldemort. His alleged interest in the dark arts. His family's history of discrimination. He was raised by Muggles, sure, but only from the age of eight onward...plenty of time for his birth parents to sink their prejudiced teeth into him first. Only three years between then and his Hogwarts sorting...would a Muggle sympathizer really get sorted into Slytherin? Surely the Hat noticed his heritage and that played a strong factor, but his choice would have still factored in. Did he ask to be sorted there? Or, like Draco Malfoy, did the Hat recognize the boy's true nature within seconds?

Once again, Harry found that the more he learned about Dawlish, the more questions he had than answers. But, as with last time, it only reaffirmed his desire to find Dawlish and get those answers straight from the source. He knew he was in for a fresh wave of rebuke from Robards when he went back into the Auror Office next Monday, but he didn't care. Maybe Rita Skeeter's reporting would actually spur the public into action, compel somebody with information to speak up. Was he being sheltered somewhere? Was he on the run with a band of other Voldemort sympathizers, like the Death Eaters they'd captured the night before? Surely he couldn't evade capture for much longer.

But first he had to talk to somebody about all of this, or he felt like he was going to explode. He clutched a copy of the Prophet and Disapparated straight to the Burrow. Molly was in the study when he arrived, and she looked surprised when he appeared.

"Harry, dear!" she said, embracing him in a hug. "How wonderful to see you. Congratulations!"

"What? Oh yeah, thanks," Harry said, momentarily forgetting all about the headline news of the day. "Is Ron around?"

"He and his father went for a walk," she said, pointing down the road behind him. "Everything all right?"

"Yeah, brilliant," said Harry, keeping the copy of the Prophet clutched behind his back. "Just need to talk to him for a minute. Auror business."

"How mysterious," Molly said with a wry smile. "They should be back in a few minutes. Why don't you make yourself at home?"

Harry sat uncomfortably on the sofa while Molly fixed him a cup of tea. She was asking him questions that he barely registered – his Christmas plans, when he was returning to the office – as he stared at the back door. Then he realized that Molly might know more about the very thing he was so consumed with. "Molly, did you go to Hogwarts at the same time as John Dawlish?" he asked when she returned with his drink.

"Yes, I did," she said with a dignified air about her, as if sensing where he was going with this. "He was three years ahead of myself and Arthur. Quiet fellow, very bright, kept to himself mostly. I never had any problems with him. You aren't listening to the chaff Rita Skeeter is spewing about him, are you?"

"No, 'course not," Harry muttered.

"Why your office is investigating him is beyond me," Molly tutted. "The Order had to cross him a few times, but he was never considered more than an annoyance—"

"Why did he oppose the Order?" Harry blurted out. "Isn't that suspicious?"

"You have to understand, Harry," Molly sighed, "that people didn't think of it as opposing the Order. Most didn't even know there was an Order for that matter. Supporting the Ministry was the only way most people could survive. And not everyone knew Voldemort was behind it all, not at first—"

"Bet Dawlish did, though," Harry muttered. "That was kinda his specialty."

"Yes, well, I never said I was fond of the bloke," Molly huffed. "I just think we could all do with a healthy dose of forgiveness in these times."

A nice sentiment, Harry thought. Now if only Dawlish would come bursting into the Burrow at this moment, crying and apologizing like Percy did...maybe then Harry would find himself in a forgiving mood…

The back door opened, and Ron and Arthur returned into the house. Harry could see that both men were emotional, and deduced that whatever they'd been discussing was serious. Arthur brightened at the sight of Harry and greeted him with a warm hug.

"So glad to see you in one piece, my boy," Arthur said. "Ron told me why you had to skip out on dinner yesterday...I suspected something was up then, but I never cease to be amazed by your bravery."

"Good to see you too, Arthur," said Harry.

"Are you staying for dinner, then?" Arthur asked expectantly. Molly also looked hopeful at this prospect.

"Yeah, sure I guess," said Harry. "I just need to borrow Ron for a minute."

"Of course, of course," Arthur beamed, gripping Harry's arm affectionately and joining Molly in the kitchen. Harry beckoned for Ron to follow him upstairs, and they traipsed upstairs to Ron's bedroom for some privacy.

"Everything alright?" Harry asked as soon as they were alone.

"Yeah, great!" Ron smiled. "My dad and I just had a really nice one-on-one. Never got many of those growing up with six siblings, y'know. But he said he was proud of me, and the man I've become, and—" Ron started to grow emotional again, pausing to stare at his shoes.

"I'm happy for you, mate, really," Harry grinned, giving Ron an affectionate pat on the back. "I don't need to hear any more than that."

"Yeah, wouldn't want to bore you with the sappy details," Ron chuckled. "What's up with you?"

"Well," Harry said, "not to bring the mood down too much, but—" He withdrew the copy of the Daily Prophet and showed Ron the back page article. Ron took it and skim-read through the Dawlish article, then handed it back to Harry.

"Real class act, that Skeeter woman is," Ron muttered. "She'd throw her own dead mother under the bus if it would make her a quick buck."

"So you don't think any of it's interesting?" Harry pressed. "Him being a Gaunt? His interest in dark arts?"

"I'm sure plenty of Gaunts went to Hogwarts, mate, and not all of them became Death Eaters," Ron shrugged. "And so what if Dawlish studied the dark arts? He made a career out of catching dark wizards, and you've gotta know your enemy, right? We studied Horcruxes last year, and I can't imagine a darker magic than that."

"Look, I know every tiny detail on its own isn't a big deal," Harry said, exasperated, "but you have to admit it all looks really bad as a whole!"

"Rita Skeeter can make anyone look bad with tiny details, though," said Ron. "I bet if she wanted to, she could write a story about how you and I were secret lovers and make people believe it."

"So you're really telling me none of this concerns you?" Harry demanded. "You don't think there's any merit to him being up to no good?"

"Sure, maybe there is," Ron shrugged. "Maybe he's the bloke that attacked Ginny, too. But we don't really have much to go on, do we?"

"I'd love to know what Hermione thinks about it," Harry sighed, sitting on the edge of Ron's bed.

"We can ask her," Ron said, and he reached into his pocket. For a split second Harry was sure he was about to pull out a Muggle cell phone, but instead he withdrew a small black pouch, from which he carefully extracted a tiny silvery device. "Two-way mirror," Ron explained. He held it up in front of his face and said: "Hermione?"

Harry stood and walked around behind Ron, staring into the mirror. For a moment he only saw his and Ron's reflection, but suddenly it was replaced by a large mess of thick brown hair as Hermione fiddled with her own mirror.

"Won-won!" she exclaimed as her face filled the mirror. "I was just thinking about you—"

"Harry's here too," Ron stammered quickly, as Harry stifled a laugh. The Won-won nickname had stuck around, huh?

"Oh, hiya Harry," Hermione beamed, her face flushing with embarrassment. "Saw the article this morning. Well done, both of you."

"Thanks, Hermione," said Harry. "But did you get the chance to see the other article? The one by Rita Skeeter?"

"Yes, I did," Hermione grumbled. "Had a feeling you would find that one interesting, Harry. Oh, that woman never fails to surprise me with how low she'll stoop—"

"But you don't think any of it's true?" Harry said. "Or at least, worth looking into?"

"I don't think it tells us anything new, Harry. No, really!" she insisted on his sour look. "So what if he was a Gaunt? It's a big family, and Hogwarts has had plenty of Gaunts over the years. The male line may be extinct, but there are still loads of descendants there with different names—"

"Yeah," Harry said bitterly, "names like Black, and Lestrange, and Malfoy. The pureblood families are all interconnected these days."

"Exactly!" said Hermione. "I wouldn't be surprised if half of Slytherin House has some trace of Gaunt blood in them."

"But his parents were so anti-Muggle—" Harry continued.

"So says Skeeter," Hermione said sharply. "And if they were so anti-Muggle, why would he have been left with Muggle relatives after they died?"

"Maybe they were his only family left!" said Harry. "Maybe he had no choice, like I had no choice with the Dursleys!"

"Harry," said Hermione, as clearly as she could muster, "Dawlish was an Auror! They don't let dark wizard sympathizers into the Auror Office, and they do extensive background checks to make sure. Maybe they waved you and Ron in without them, but times were different then—"

"Everyone said he was the smartest in his class!" Harry protested. "All the teachers loved him! Just like Tom Riddle, and nobody suspected he was capable of hurting a fly…"

"Dumbledore didn't buy it. He saw Riddle for what he was—"

"Dumbledore wasn't fond of Dawlish either!" said Harry. "How many times did he have to hex him because he got in the way in the last few years?"

"Look, I don't know what you want me to say," Hermione muttered. "I think you're reading into this too much. But what does it matter? If he is so evil like you suggest, what's the worst that could happen?"

"I dunno," Harry sighed. "I just have a bad feeling that he's up to something. The pieces just aren't making sense to me yet."

"Well, I hope you find him quickly then," Hermione sighed weakly. "The sooner these Skeeter hit pieces can end, the better. Can you kindly give me back to Ron, please?"

Harry was so worked up that he hadn't realized he'd snatched the mirror from Ron so that he could argue with Hermione face to face. He handed the mirror back to Ron. "I'm going back to Grimmauld Place," he muttered, feeling frustrated with his two best friends. He stalked down the stairs, making an excuse with Molly and Arthur to avoid dinner before Disapparating out of the garden back home.

Harry knew that Hogwarts had to be his next destination. Many of the answers he sought were waiting for him in McGonagall's office: Dumbledore's portrait, the Sorting Hat, and the Sword of Gryffindor, which he still needed to retrieve for Garunk the Great. Then of course there was the Elder Wand burning a hole in his pocket; he had to hope Aberforth had raised enough hell to get his brother's tomb fixed. And that was to say nothing of the missing scepter, which still perplexed Harry to no end. He couldn't help but wonder whether Dawlish and the scepter were connected; why this was, he didn't know. But even if nobody else believed him, he would crack the case on his own.

Whatever you're up to out there, Dawlish, Harry thought in bed that night, just know that I will stop you. Even if it's the last thing I do.