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Tom Riddle for Muggles

The moment Harry stepped into the interview room, Ron locked eyes with him, trying urgently to convey his worries in one long look. Harry smiled gently, and shook Parkers hand before kissing Hermione's cheek and sitting next to Ron, his thigh pressed to the red heads.

"My friends seem to think that you're about to accuse me of something, Dave," Harry addressed the superintendent in a friendly tone, "Why is that?"

Ron felt a rush of relief that they could still speak to each other without words, that Harry could read them like a book, just as he had in school. He felt smug when the superintendent spluttered in surprise.

"What? How on earth…? I never…!"

"You implied that Harry was of particular interest to you in the matter of these bombs," Hermione's voice was sharp and no nonsense, but Harry put a hand on her wrist lightly.

"Yes, but not as a perpetrator," Parker snapped back, showing a bit of temper, "As you can see, young Harry, these so called friends of yours have very little faith in you."

Before Ron could explode in anger Harry spoke up, his voice as calm and easy as if he was discussing a shopping list with his daughter.

"They would never for a moment think that I was capable of such an act," the assurance in his voice was like a balm to Ron's nerves, "They are not the issue here, Dave. What's wrong?"

Parker slumped, flushing a little as the cool tone filled the room, and Ron relaxed. He should have known that Harry would have trusted them to know better. Things were still so new between them that Ron was still waiting to wake up from what seemed to be an impossibly lovely dream.

"We found this among the wreckage of the bomb site. It was in the box that contained the explosives, and only survived by blind luck," Parker pulled a plastic bag from his inner pocket and put it on the table. All three friends leaned forward to look and Hermione gasped in shock, while Harry went pale. Even Ron had to stop from grabbing for his friend.

There was a charred piece of paper in the plastic bag, with the fragmented letters 'otte' followed by some numbers underneath it.

"That's the middle of my phone number," Harry breathed, and turned to Ron for comfort, "Ron, what's going on?"

"I don't know, mate, but we're going to figure it out," Ron promised, and Hermione nodded emphatically. Parker frowned at them all, and cleared his throat.

"Harry, is there anyone with a grudge, or a known reason to do you harm?" the superintendent asked, and Ron boggled at the man. There were a few Death Eaters around still, though they knew better than to broadcast their former allegiance to the Dark Lord. They had a known grudge against Harry, and every now and then there would be an anti-Potter outburst in the Daily Prophet through the agency of a paid announcement. They were still holding onto the vain hope that Voldemort would return again, though the ten year anniversary of his defeat seemed to kill that hope dead. All this was well and good, but it left them with a more immediate problem. How do you explain Voldemort and the Death Eaters to a Muggle? Harry sighed and got up, folding his arms and pacing behind Ron's chair for a moment. Hermione shifted in hers and opened her mouth to try and explain, but was beaten to it by Harry himself.

"My parents were in law enforcement," the green-eyed man's voice was quiet and final. This was a tale he only intended to tell once, and Ron hoped that Parker would pick up on that, "They specialised in dealing with cults and gangs. They were part of a task force that was trying to shut down a man called Tom Riddle. He was particularly insidious, and he and his followers went after the task force with brutal efficiency. When they found out they were pregnant, they dropped out of the field for a while, taking desk jobs instead. Unfortunately Tom found them, and when I was about sixteen months old, he came to our house."

Ron was as captivated as the superintendent. This was the tale of the Boy Who Lived, told from his own point of view. Though the words he used were plain, the terms of reference simplistic, the underlying emotion behind them was all too real.

"He murdered mum and dad and blew up their house. Somehow, I survived, and he was also caught in the blast and disappeared to nurse his wounds. I was sent to live with my mothers sister, and when I was ready for high school I went to the same boarding school in Scotland that my parents went to when they were kids," Harry stopped where Hermione and Ron could see him and Ron felt a warm glow at the tender smile he bestowed upon both Aurors.

"I met two of the worlds best people there," he winked at Ron, "We made a good team."

"Yes we did," Hermione nodded, smiling back warmly, "Even if we did have to destroy the girls bathroom before we could talk to each other properly."

Ron laughed at the joke, and Harry chuckled, leaning against the wall. Parker looked confused, but there was no way that they could explain the troll at Halloween.

"Tom found me at school, though, and stalked me for the rest of my schooling," Harry's voice darkened, "He hurt a lot of people under the mistaken idea that if he could kill me he'd be able to take over the world. He interrupted an inter-House football match with his band of merry men, and tried to kill me in front of the whole school. Nearly everyone was in the stands watching at the time, and he … wanted an audience. There was a struggle, and … he was killed."

"Self defence," Parker said quietly, and Harry nodded grimly while Ron reeled in his chair, the impact of the simply told tale enough to steal his breath. Harry moved to his side, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"The Headmaster felt that it was better that I graduated early, and I came here," the conclusion of the tale was almost an anti-climax, and Parker sat back, his eyes going from one face to another.

"You're sure he's dead?" the Muggle asked and Harry nodded gently, "There's no one else you can think of?"

"No," the whisper was tired and Harry slumped back into his empty chair. Ron immediately put an arm around his shoulders and glared at Parker with impunity. The interview was wrapped up in short order, and Harry let Ron and Hermione steer him through the corridors and out into the early spring sunshine. Ron cast his gabble mouth charm on all three of them discretely, and Hermione directed them to the nearest park.

"It's not Voldemort, Harry," Ron promised, meeting miserable green eyes, "And most the Death Eaters are dead or locked up."

"Besides, it's a Muggle making the explosions, not a Wizard," Hermione confirmed, "There's only one other Wizard in town, and that's our rogue. Ron doesn't count."

Harry chuckled at Ron's indignant expression and Ron played it up a little, hoping to ease Harry back into the present with them, instead of brooding over his past. When he was sure that Harry was feeling a little better, Ron broke off his bickering with Hermione to raise a point that they hadn't covered in Parker's interrogation room.

"Look, Harry, if this person has your phone number, then could he also have your address?"

"Shit! I hadn't thought of that!" Harry exclaimed, "The number isn't listed! He must have access to more information about me than I thought!"

"Which means we need to set up a few wards around your house," Hermione said firmly, and Ron nodded, another thought occurring to him.

"And Rose needs to go to the Burrow," he looked his friend in the eye, "She's safer there for now, in case the bastard decides to have a go at her as well. This rogue may not be in the area the next time a bomb goes off."

Harry paled once more, but nodded resolutely. Hermione made arrangements to go with him to pick up his daughter, and Ron found a discrete place to apparate to his mothers home, where he warned her that she was about to have a guest.

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