all hail the ever mighty Fowl-Star, (HAIL!) who nearly gave me a stroke by posting eleven reviews. i am ever so glad to see her back, and hope her cat is alright. she also gets a whole plateful of lemon-sugar cookies for knowing what ma'at is and correcting my spelling.i didn't know the chick from the princess diaries was named anne hathaway (i was thinking nurse hathaway from ER).

::ahem:: now that that's done, on with the show.

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Chapter Seventeen

Subtle He Ain't

"Mr. Weasley, oof!" Ron turned to see Dennis Fletcher, intern, run into an extremely irritated wizard. "Sorry. Mr. Weasley!" Dennis manoeuvred around the man and caught up with his boss. "This just came for you, from Harris."

Harris* Bowman was the brother of a muggle-born wizard, but unable to work magic himself. He kept an eye on the muggle police force, making sure that the muggles didn't find any incriminating evidence of wizarding world. The man had a talent for explaining the unexplainable.

Weasley took the note. It was terse and to the point.

Wizard blew up a bank. Get here now. Bring the cute one.

-H

No one ever accused Harris of being too focused on his work.

"Hey 'Mione, we got a case." Hermione was too used to the contraction of her name to frown in disapproval.

"Meaning?"

Ron handed her the note. She rolled her eyes. "He doesn't give up, does he?" Ron only shrugged, suppressing his amusement. Harris was going to get clobbered one of these days, but he was having fun while it lasted.

"Shall we?"

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"Subtle he ain't."

Hermione resisted the urge to correct Harris' grammar. The sentiment was correct. The unknown wizard had cut a near perfect circle into the back of the bank, directly into the vault. The scorched brick wall was still smoking slightly, and the metal wall of the vault was still warm to the touch.

"What did you tell them?" Ron nodded at the patrol officers, who were sipping coffee and watching the supposed experts from the SAS** work.

"That someone was showing off with an Acetylene welding torch."

Ron looked to Hermione for a translation. She replied without glancing up from her careful examination of the edge of the circle.

"Kind of like a fire spell on steroids. I'd say that he used a simple Melting Potion. Why on earth didn't he just Apparate in, take the money and Apparate out?"

"To show off? To mess with the muggles' heads?" Ron shrugged.

"Maybe he was working with muggles and didn't want to do anything that he couldn't rationalize. Pretty hard to explain how you pop in and out of thin air." Harris would know; he'd probably done it before.

"Can you trace the money?" Hermione asked.

"We're working on it. It's not an easy thing to do." Harris shrugged. "Most bank robbers get caught in the act due to bad luck or their own incompetence. And this wizard of yours will probably send it through that bank of yours, Griswold's."

"Gringotts."

"Whatever. I can't exactly send them the standard bulletin."

"Don't worry; we'll do it for you."

"We'll take a few photographs and samples back to the lab; see if we can't get more information about the type of torch used on the wall. I don't think its anything that required SAS intervention, though." Ron said just loudly enough for the milling officers to hear.

"Well, thank you for coming out, Lieutenant." Handshakes were exchanged and Ron and Hermione walked back to the car used by the Ministry in its dealings with muggles.

Hermione never tired of seeing Ron make up some ruse on the fly. Hermione said he had a talent for subterfuge. Ron said he learned the skill when he had to explain why his homework wasn't done. None of the officers present would investigate further, each thinking that someone else was handling it. Harris would ensure that the file would mysteriously disappear on the way to the filing cabinet.

Despite London's crowded streets, it was no time at all before they were back at the Ministry's offices.

"That's the third obviously magical bank robbery in two months. I'm beginning to sense a pattern." Ron said sardonically.

"I guess it's my turn to go to Gringotts this time and warn them." Hermione sighed dramatically. "That goblin won't be happy to see me."

Hermione made no move toward the cubicle door. She just sat in Ron's chair, her feet on Ron's desk. Ron sat on the desk, careful not to disturb one of the towers of paper and manila folders. He accidentally nudged one stack balanced precariously on the edge and covered the floor with several layers of papers.

Hermione giggled as Ron cursed. She reached out to pat his hand consolingly and he snatched it up. For some reason, Ron felt a huge swell of happiness and contentment. He couldn't stop grinning like an idiot.

"What?"

"It just seems like for the first time everything is right." Ron said, not quite sure how to express himself clearly. "Like this is the way it should have turned out all along."

"Ma'at." Hermione nodded.

"What about a mat?"

"Ma'at. The Egyptian concept of right order and balance."

"Er, yeah. That."

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* Tribute to the late, great Richard Harris. He is sorely missed.

** The SAS (Special Air Service) is sorta like the British version of the FBI.

Questions, comments, critisicms, complaints? Review, my friend, review.

.•´¨`•»¦«•Kerowyn•»¦«•´¨`•.