Chapter Seven: Allocation of Goods

Ottery St Catchpole
14th December 2009, 6.28am

It was still dark when Ron woke up the next morning. For some reason he'd been dreaming of Hogwarts, and was confused not to have been woken by Neville's snores, or Harry's frenzied nocturnal muttering. He blinked up at the white-painted ceiling, half-expecting it to morph into red velvet hangings, and then Callie murmured something incomprehensible and turned over, flinging her arm across his chest.

"Ow," Ron said mildly. Callie lifted her head to glare at him blearily through one eye.

"Coffee?" he asked, and Callie groaned.

"What time is it? she mumbled, though the words were half-smothered by the pillow she'd buried her face in.

Ron turned his head so that she wouldn't see him smiling as he reached for his wand. "Half six," he replied, once he'd cast a quick Tempus charm. "Do you want -"

"Fuck off," Callie huffed, her Virginia accent turning the words to a drawl as she wriggled deeper into the bed, tugging the duvet away from Ron to tuck it more tightly around herself.

"Well, that's nice." Ron sat up and stretched. "You know, my mother would be horrified if she knew how you spoke to me in private." He shivered as the cold air hit his exposed shoulders, and summoned his dressing gown from across the room to pull it on.

"I'd be horrified if Molly knew how we talk to each other in private," Callie pointed out, rolling onto her side to watch as Ron crossed the room to peer out from behind the curtain. "What time do you need to be at the office?"

"Eight," he sighed, letting the curtain drop back over the view of the snow-lined main road through Ottery St Catchpole and turning back to look at Callie. "Do you have time to drop Hugo at Mum and Dad's before the morning pitch?"

"And enjoy another round of 'a mother's place is in the home'?'' Callie shoved herself out of bed and stumbled across the room to wrap her arms around Ron's waist. "I can't think of a better way to start a Monday." She turned her face up towards his and smiled, with her eyes closed, her long lashes grazing her cheeks. "Morning, Mr Weasley."

"Morning, Mrs 'taking a man's name is patriarchal erasure.'" Ron pressed a kiss to Callie's mouth, then coughed. "Ugh."

"Hey!" Callie leaned back and swatted him on the arm. "You're not exactly fresh yourself."

"Yeah," Ron agreed, winding an arm around her and pressing a kiss into her mussed hair. "But, unlike some people, I didn't drink an entire bottle of elf wine while waiting to ambush my husband last night."

Callie snickered against his shoulder. "That'll teach you to leave Dean in charge of press conferences."

"He and I will be having words," Ron said darkly. "And anyway, I thought we agreed that we were even?"

From where she still stood in the semicircle of his arm, Callie gave him a crafty look. "Only because Hermione's much better at managing the press than you are."

"Maybe you should be married to her then," Ron groused, and Callie laughed again.

"Not my type," she sniffed. "I mean, you and I have a lot in common, but not -"

"Oh, no, please shut up," Ron sighed, pushing her off gently. "I'm going to make coffee, and you're not getting any."

"First you withhold stories, and now coffee?" Callie placed a hand over her heart. "Ron, honey, I think we might need to have a serious -"

There was a yell and a heavy thunk from Hugo's bedroom, and Ron's finger flew to his nose. "Not it!"

"Asshole," Callie sighed, grabbing her own dressing gown and jostling Ron as she opened the bedroom door and stepped onto the landing. "Did I hear a boggart? I've heard the best way to deal with boggarts is by TICKLING -"

Ron shook his head, yawning again as he made his way downstairs to a soundtrack of Hugo's shrieks of laughter.

As usual, the kitchen was an explosion of organised chaos, but Callie's taste for sparkle and kitsch meant that the usual mess of toys, broken quills and bits of parchment now vied for space with glittering holly leaves, fat little Father Christmas figurines and brightly-coloured Muggle fairy lights. There were also two empty wine glasses sat on the slightly wonky table that Arthur had built for them as a wedding present, and Ron smiled to himself as he went to clear them.

"You're holding out on me," Callie slurred, her finger pointing just to the left of his nose. "I can tell. 'M a great journalist. Got a nose for the - for the words. Won awards."

Ron grabbed his own glass from the cupboard, lifted the wine bottle, then frowned to see it was almost empty. "And did you win those awards before or after you agreed never to publish anything to do with Black & Lupin LLP?"

Callie's wine-stained lips spread into a grin before she clapped a hand over her mouth, dark eyes dancing. When Ron scowled at her she just laughed, before reaching for the wine bottle. "Gimme."

"Daddy!" Hugo's voice broke into Ron's reverie, and he turned to see Callie stood in the doorway with the toddler on her hip.

At three and a half, Hugo was beginning to look like a real person rather than just a small, pink blob. He had inherited Callie's dark eyes and delicate nose, but his liberal smattering of freckles and bright red hair were pure Weasley.

"Well hello there!" Ron handed Callie a vial of hangover potion and plucked Hugo from her arms. "I thought Mummy was catching a boggart?"

"Not a boggart!" Hugo laughed, "It was me!"

"What are the chances?" Ron asked with exaggerated surprise. Behind Hugo, Callie downed the potion and then brought her hands together in front of her chest, mouthing thank you.

They'd met six years ago, when Ron was still a junior Auror and Callie was freshly arrived from the U.S., where she had just graduated from Ilvermorny. Luna had offered her a two month trial as a staff writer, and within the first week Callie had worked out that if she just followed Ron around she could use his brain's unfortunate inability to function properly in her presence to take all the work out of breaking stories.

Of course, once they'd made things official they'd had to come to an agreement about how much they could share with one another in a professional context. Ron had thought that this was mostly to protect him, but he should have realised that Callie, smart as she was, would find a way to turn things to her advantage.

Just as he was thinking this, she sidled up behind him and laid her head against his shoulder. "So, what have you got on today?" she asked innocently.

"Don't even try it," Ron said, trying, despite the joint encumbrances of toddler and wife, to charm the stove to heat some milk for Hugo. "You're on thin enough ice as it is."

"How can I know what sort of ice I'm on if you won't give me a clue?" Callie wheedled now.

"Why don't you ask Hermione to give you a clue?" Ron snorted, transferring the milk to a cup and passing it to Hugo. "Isn't that what she does?"

Callie only knew as much as Hermione had told her, which was that she and Harry had registered the company to give her more bandwidth when representing clients who had breached the International Statute of Secrecy. In return for her not snooping any further, Hermione had offered Callie first refusal on stories about and interviews with her clients.

"I figured if she hadn't told you herself she probably had a good excuse," Callie said, not unreasonably, as she rubbed her cheek against his towelling dressing gown like a cat.

"It was a terrible excuse," Ron grumbled, flicking his wand to set the kettle to boil. "It was a terrible excuse and I'm still furious with the pair of them."

"Harry too?" Callie asked, and Ron pressed his lips together. She had been fully aware that Hermione hadn't told her told most of the story, and angry as he was at being left in the dark, Ron had been careful not to give her any more of it.

"Being furious with Harry is one of my default positions," he said, hedging the question as he turned around. Now half-sandwiched between his parents, Hugo began to wriggle until Callie stepped back, and Ron set him down on one of the chairs.

When he straightened up, Callie was giving him a look. Ron sighed, and passed her the mug of coffee that he had just poured.

"Drink that," he told her, "and stop asking questions."

Malfoy Manor
14th December 2009, 8.57am

"Where are we?" Dudley asked, squinting up at the high gables of the pearl-grey manor house.

"Deepest, darkest Wiltshire," Harry answered with a scowl.

"Emphasis on the dark," Hermione added blithely, and Harry, out of habit, glanced over to check that she was alright. Aside from her slight frown she appeared to be fine; certainly, she wasn't pale and shaking the way she had been the first time she had come to the Manor to interview Malfoy after the War.

Above them, the sky was grey and heavy in a way that promised snow, and the sweeping lawns on either side of the gravel drive were white with frost. Somewhere off to their left Harry heard a haunting cry, and then a spectral shape appeared momentarily from between the tall pine trees, before dashing back into the shadows of the woods.

"What the fuck was that?" Dudley asked. His face, already green-tinged after the apparition from Grimmauld Place, now appeared to have lost all its colour.

"Albino peacock," Harry answered wearily. "And if you're wondering what sort of prick keeps albino peacocks, the answer is that sort of prick." He nodded towards the front doors of the Manor, which had opened to reveal Draco Malfoy leaning languidly against the stone doorframe, his arms folded and his lip curled extravagantly.

"Potter," he drawled when they got near enough to hear without him needing to raise his voice. "Do my eyes deceive me or have you actually brought a Muggle to besmirch the hallowed halls of my -"

"Stop it, Draco." Daphne appeared behind her husband, elbowing him out of the way. "Ignore him, please," she entreated, staring earnestly at Dudley. "He's really not nearly as awful as he'd like you to think he is. We're delighted to have you, and it's terribly good of you to take the time, your job must be very demanding."

"I -" Dudley glanced at Harry, who shrugged. "Yes?"

"Of course, of course," Daphne said, turning in a flurry of tasteful emerald silk and beckoning them to follow. "Please come inside."

The entrance hall of Malfoy Manor had been decorated with wreaths and garlands of holly and ivy, twined together and glittering with real frost. In the middle of the floor, below the vast chandelier, was a gigantic Christmas tree, lit with hundreds upon hundreds of real fairy lights.

Harry caught Hermione's eye as Dudley gaped upwards. "Are those -"

"You can leave your coats with Digby," Daphne said, looking around and then frowning slightly. "Digby!" she yelled, and Harry saw Dudley jump as an elf apparated into the grand entrance hall.

"You called, Mistress?"

"Please take our guests' coats," Daphne asked, before turning round to them. When Dudley bent towards his shoes she started forward. "Please don't worry! Even with all the warming charms we can cast, the floors are still cold."

"The price one pays for finest Italian marble," Draco sniffed, having taken up a position at Daphne's shoulder.

"Christ, what a hardship," Harry muttered as he pulled off his coat and handed it to the increasingly overburdened Digby. "My heart bleeds for you."

"Be quiet, Potter," Malfoy sighed. "You look as ragged as ever; anyone would think you were the Muggle."

"Hilarious," Harry countered. "Have you been practicing your quips?"

"Are they always like this?" Harry heard Dudley ask Hermione.

"I don't practice Potter, I want to give you half a chance at -"

"Well it's not like you ever needed chances when -"

"It turns out the only thing more irritating than them hating one another is them getting along," Hermione replied to Dudley. "Still, less blood to clean up."

"Blood?!" Dudley repeated, and Harry and Draco both paused trading increasingly childish insults to glance at him.

"How about it, Potter?" Draco asked, with a sly smile. "Want to show your cousin what you're made of?"

"I'd love to, Malfoy, but since we're on a tight schedule I don't think I can spare the ten seconds it would take to wipe the floor with you."

"No one will be wiping any floors with anyone," Daphne said firmly, having dispatched Digby. "Now, we're just waiting for the -" a pleasant chiming sound echoed through the hall, and she turned expectantly to the door "- Aurors."

Even from a distance Ron and Dean were clearly identifiable as they jogged their way up the drive in the direction of the house.

"Bloody hell it's cold!" Dean swore when they reached the door. "Alright Daphne, Malfoy?"

"Are you referring to both of us or just my wife?" Draco asked, prompting Daphne to sigh and lay a delicate hand on his sleeve.

"What Draco means to say," she said pointedly, "is welcome to our home, and we're very grateful to you for coming all this way. Digby!"

This time the elf appeared on the other side of the room, and Harry stifled a laugh as Dudley jumped again and swore.

"Yes Mistress?"

"Would you take these gentlemen's coats as well, and then tell Delphina that we're ready for refreshments in the yellow drawing room?"

"As you command, Mistress." The elf bowed before reaching for Ron's coat.

"Theodore and Pansy are up there already, so if you'd all like to follow me," Daphne motioned gracefully towards the stairs. Hermione stepped up beside her and started to talk in a low voice as they ascended, followed by the odd trio of Dudley, Draco and Dean.

"Alright?" Harry said to Ron as they brought up the rear together.

"Smashing," he replied, frowning at Draco's back. "Why did we have to do this here again?"

"No physical evidence at the scene to place Pansy there," Harry shrugged. "She's only a person of interest for the time being, so if she's willing to cooperate we have to meet her halfway."

"I sat my Auror exams too, you know," Ron huffed. "I meant why here? I hate this place."

"Well, I think we've all had a traumatic experience at Malfoy Manor at one time or another," Harry said lightly. "I guess you could almost say it puts us on an equal footing."

Ron shook his head, but not before Harry saw the edge of his smile. "I think you've finally cracked, mate."

Before Harry could say anything more, Daphne led them into a large, brightly-lit room that was -

"Well, it's certainly yellow," Dudley said.

"Cheerful, don't you think?" Daphne beamed. "And here's -"

"Oh, look," Pansy said, standing up from a couch the colour of dandelion petals. "The gang's all here." She was fully dressed today, much to Harry's relief.

"Remember what we talked about?" Theo sighed, buttoning his suit jacket as he stood up next to her. "The part about being civil in particular?"

"When am I ever not?" Pansy asked, stepping around a low coffee table and holding out her hand to Dudley. "Detective Inspector."

Dudley frowned down at the tops of Pansy's knuckles for a moment, before taking her hand and shaking it firmly. "Thank you for agreeing to a follow-up interview," he said gruffly, and Harry saw his cheeks turn pink.

"Surely it's the least I could do," Pansy gave a winning smile that faded slightly when she turned to where Dean and Ron now stood together. "Auror Thomas, Auror Weasley. Anything you'd like to accuse me of before we get started, or are you saving wild conjecture for later?"

"Pans!" Daphne admonished her sharply, and Pansy rolled her eyes, but gave a patient little nod.

"Fine. Potter, Granger, lovely to see you both again as well. Since we're pretending this is a social call, may I offer you some refreshment?"

She gestured to the console table by the far wall, which appeared to have been piled high with the makings of a continental breakfast.

There was an uneasy silence, and then Hermione sighed deeply before striding over to the table. "I, for one, would love a cup of tea."

Once everyone had helped themselves to drinks and pastries, they settled down on various chairs and sofas (although Draco elected to stand by a window). As everyone fell expectantly quiet, Pansy set down her coffee cup and folded her hands primly in her lap. Her dress was the same deep blue as her eyes, and she looked around the group with an expression of polite enquiry. "Who wants to go first?"

"I think I will, if no one else minds?" Ron said, glancing quickly about and receiving nods from Harry, Hermione and Dudley before clearing his throat. "Is there anything you can tell us that you didn't feel comfortable revealing when interviewed by representatives of a private concern acting on behalf of the Muggle police?"

"Goodness Weasley," Pansy blinked. "You're nearly as blunt as Potter."

Ron looked sharply at Harry, who spread his hands innocently. "Right," Ron said. "But if you wouldn't mind actually answering the question?"

Pansy's eyes narrowed. "No," she said. "There is nothing that I can tell you that I didn't feel comfortable revealing before."

Hearing the subtle emphasis, Harry frowned, but it was Dudley who sat forward. "Is there anything you can tell us now that you couldn't tell us when interviewed yesterday?"

"Oh very good, Detective Inspector," Pansy nodded. "Very good indeed." She looked behind her. "Remind me, Draco, is the Manor warded against the Invocation of Loyalty?"

Beside her on the settee Theo swore and spilled his coffee onto his trousers. Daphne appeared frozen by shock, and over by the window Draco had turned as white as his hair. Next to Harry, Ron dropped his head into his hands. "You've got to be kidding me."

"Sorry, guys," Dean said, his voice sounding loud in the sudden silence. "But the Invocation of what now?"

Harry glanced at Hermione, only to see that she looked as clueless as him, which meant that whatever Pansy was talking about, it probably wasn't written down. He didn't have long to think about this however, because at that moment Draco yanked Daphne behind him and pulled out his wand.

"Explain yourself," he spat, pointing it at Pansy.

"Whoa!" Dean said, "Easy there, Malfoy, no need for -"

"No, actually," Ron said, and Harry was surprised to see that he, too, had drawn his wand. "For once, he has a point."

Pansy had gone very still, her hands resting on top of her thighs. "I don't want anyone to get hurt -"

"That's good of you," said Theo. He hadn't yet drawn his wand, but he was contorting himself away from Pansy as though she was carrying something infectious. "Doesn't quite match up with the plan to invoke a blood curse though, so -"

"I'm not invoking it," Pansy said impatiently, "I'm under it."

"Oh," Ron snorted, "even fucking better. Are you -"

"Hey!" Hermione said, pulling out her wand and shooting white sparks from the end. "Can we just - are you an immediate threat?" she said, turning to Pansy.

"As long as the Manor's warded, then no," she replied, eyes still darting between Draco and Ron. Harry had the impression she was trying to work out who to be more worried about.

"Fine," Hermione sighed. "Draco, is the Manor warded against - against Invocations of Loyalty?"

"Yes," he nodded slowly, without putting up his wand. "But if she's already under it and she's placed under enough pressure -"

"The wards will help me fight it long enough to get out," Pansy said, her voice urgent. "Believe me, Draco, I wouldn't have let Theo bring me here unless I had to."

"Right," Hermione nodded. "Well, that sounds reasonable enough. Malfoy?"

Draco said nothing for a moment, but then he relaxed his posture slightly. "Fine."

Apparently he had also released his hold on Daphne, as she popped her head over his shoulder. "Oh Pans," she said. "That's awful, are you al-"

"Ahem," Dudley cleared his throat. "Sorry, I know a lot of this is going to go over my head, but I don't think I'm the only one who doesn't know what this Invo-thingy is?"

"Thank you!" Dean said, before looking at Theo. "You said something about blood curses?"

"I might have simplified slightly," Theo sighed. "The Invocation of Loyalty is an extremely old-school bit of Pureblood power-brokering gone wrong."

"Sounds promising," Harry said. "Why haven't I heard of it?"

"More to the point," said Hermione, "why haven't I heard of it?"

"Granger you're such a swot." Despite the tension still evident in his posture, Theo managed to grin delightedly at Hermione, making Harry feel like punching him even more than he usually did.

"They destroyed the records of it," Ron sighed. He was eyeing Pansy as though she were liable to explode. "It's really, really bad. Like an Imperius, but much stronger, because the magic of it works through the bearer's blood."

"How do you know about it?" Hermione asked bluntly.

"Bill taught us all. One of the goblins at the bank made him ward his house against it." Ron shrugged. "I know everyone always forgets the Weasleys are Sacred Twenty-Eight -"

"We don't forget," Draco protested. "We're just appalled."

"- but we are," Ron continued testily, "so we're vulnerable."

"Wait," Harry said. "It only affects Sacred Twenty-Eight bloodlines?"

"Can only be cast by or on descendants of the lines who were represented at the first conference of Wizarding Britain in 1364," Theo said. "But Muggle blood dilutes it pretty quickly, so you're probably fine, Potter."

"Why did no one use this as a defence at trial after Voldemort -"

"It dilutes," Hermione said slowly. "His dad was a Muggle, remember?"

"That, and the working has been lost for centuries," said Draco. "It was destroyed when wizards finally came to the startling realisation that your friends today might be your enemies tomorrow. Or vice versa," he conceded, tilting his head towards Harry.

"In any case," Ron said, "it's a pretty fucking stupid idea to give someone that much power over you."

"Thanks for that," Pansy sighed. "I hadn't realised."

"How does it work?" Hermione asked.

"It bends you to the caster's will," Pansy looked down at her lap. "As long as their attention is on you, you can't act except in the way they want."

"What happens if you disobey?" Harry said.

"You can't," Pansy shook her head. "And if you try - well. You saw Goyle."

"Eyes?" Draco asked sharply, and Pansy nodded.

"OK," said Dudley. "What's the eye thing about?"

"It's a mark of disloyalty!" Hermione clapped a hand to her forehead. "You have to look someone in the eye to swear an oath. What?" she said, when everyone looked at her. "That much I have read about, why didn't I think of it sooner?"

"There you are," Pansy said unhappily. "And I was stupid enough to get it laid on me."

"How did that happen?" Ron asked. "If you lot all know what the Invocation is, surely you'd -"

"They took me to dinner," Pansy sighed. "In Rome. Said they'd heard I was living there and wondered how I was." She wound her hands together, picking nervously at one thumbnail. "I don't know quite how it happened, but I one moment I'd cut my hand on a glass, and the next thing I knew they'd done something - weird - and I couldn't - everything was -"

She shook her head, then swallowed tightly. "I knew what they wanted me to do. And I couldn't do anything else."

"And is that still the case?" Dean asked. "Is you sitting here, telling us -"

"No!" Pansy shook her head. "I didn't - they've been distracted - enough for me to call Theo and get him to bring me here, where the wards might help. It's always strongest when they know where I am, so until they work it out -"

"But you're still following basic commands," Harry said. "Like vanishing the dress yesterday."

"I wondered whether you'd realised," Pansy nodded. "They bought it for me, so it was a connection."

"I'm guessing you're not allowed to tell us who 'they' are, either?" Ron asked.

"No," Pansy gave a hollow laugh. "It's - it's one person, I can give you that."

"Helpful," Dean said, sarcasm heavy in his voice.

"You said they've been distracted," Hermione said, glancing at Harry. "Do you think they were distracted by what happened at Gringotts?"

Pansy's eyes widened, and her throat worked, but she didn't say anything; didn't even move.

"I would take that as a yes, if I were you," Theo remarked.

"Would this Invocation thing have worked on Emilius Ogden?" Harry asked, sitting forward.

"Who?" Pansy asked, dragging her eyes away from Hermione, and frowning.

"His mother was a Fawley, wasn't she?" Daphne said, looking at Harry, who nodded. "Then if his father had pureblood in him too, I'd say yes."

"Jesus Christ," Harry groaned. "No wonder he couldn't throw it off. I thought it was an Imperius, why is none of this stuff taught -"

"The more people who know, the more danger it poses," Ron shrugged. "Bill said I wasn't to tell anyone at all, even if they weren't another Pureblood."

"Helpful," Hermione sighed. "Although I guess it makes sense."

"Bugger that for a lark," Dudley said quietly, then looked startled when everybody looked at him. "Sorry, I didn't mean to say that out loud."

"Nobody's disagreeing with you, mate," Dean said.

Dudley smiled, then brushed some croissant crumbs from his knees into his hand, before depositing them on his plate. "I don't think there's much use me being here any longer," he said. "Looks like the investigation is purely wizarding, so I'll make sure to -"

"Actually, I think there is something you could do," Draco said, glancing around when everyone looked at him in consternation. "What?"

"A little out of character, maybe?" Harry said, "Wanting a Muggle's help?"

"Unsurprisingly, Potter, I seemed to have grasped the intricacies of the situation more quickly than you." Draco smirked, before his smile dropped. "You can't stay here," he said to Pansy. "Even with the wards, we have no idea how strong the Invocation is once whoever's cast it decides to focus their will on you. Which they're going to, because eventually they'll notice that you've disappeared, and it won't take them long to figure out where you're hiding."

"Purebloods go to ground with other Purebloods," Ron said, nodding thoughtfully.

"Precisely," Draco said. "So I suggest Inspector Muggle here makes himself useful by hiding you somewhere unexpected."

"You're joking?" Dudley asked disbelievingly, before he turned to Harry. "He is joking, right?"

"Actually," Harry said slowly, "I think it makes quite a lot of sense."

A/N: This was going to be two much shorter chapters but because of the aforementioned family trip I once again had no editing time yesterday, and then decided that actually these two segments work quite nicely together. That means there will be two double-chapter days later this week (hurrah!) probably on Wednesday and Friday, but tbc...

Anyway, hope this makes things a little clearer. Also I hope you like Callie?