As always, this world is JKR's and I'm just playing with it.
Chapter 8
May 13, 2001
Ministry of Magic
"We have a problem."
Harry looked at his mentor and her boss. Senior Auror Proudfoot and Head Auror Gawain Robards were both trying to wake up. She held a cup of Turkish coffee in a silver cup under her nose while the chief was waiting for his morning Pepper-up to take effect. They had dropped everything that they had been preparing to work on when they saw the sticky note (a wonderful Muggle invention that the department was adopting with the new class of trainees being the lead champions) on their doors in the morning. Harry had never invoked his right to see senior leadership; it was a right that the most junior auror trainee was told about on the third day of training. If they could survive the physical and the first day of combat training, they were far enough in the process to be given the right to their own judgement. Some trainees had used it for trifling matters. Others had never used it.
"The Muggles can find us too easily. I was talking with a Muggle warrior last night and he made the point very clear that I was notable because I was invisible."
"Harry, did you Obliviate him?" Gawain was an old school auror. He had made his bones in the first war and the immediate aftermath. He had never used the Unforgivables even as he brought in a dozen Death Eaters before the fall of Voldemort and another half a dozen after the initial fall of the Dark Lord. He had gone into hiding during the second war. Some aurors went into the Muggle world for protection, others, like him, went under Fidelius. The old school methods were what he knew. The youngsters were a different beast for him.
"No, it would not have mattered if I had. He had notes and he had discussed the situation with at least his assistant. I could not destroy or alter his notes nor obliviate his assistant. Obliviating him would have just told him or his colleagues that something even stranger than a physical ghost is out there."
"Harry, are you sure you kept within the Statue?" Proudfoot had been his lead trainer for years and knew that Harry was extremely mission-focused at the expense of many of the details. She knew that Harry was intimately familiar with the Unforgivables. She knew that Harry had broken into Gringotts. She knew that there was a streak of reckless ruthlessness in her mentee. It was not quite as pronounced a streak as the one that Ms. Granger , who truly scared the senior auror, but she had spent two years to get Harry to think before acting.
"I'm sure. I'll put all of last night into the Pensieve. We mainly talked about being veterans. I did not say anything about where or who I had fought. He said very little. The dossier put together by the Muggle Intelligent and Liason Team was excellent. We've bounced into him a few times. Dawlish spent a few months with him just after the first war actually."
"What should we do?" Robards was thoughtful. He was an old fuddy duddy but the line Aurors respected him for when he asked a question, he actually listened to the answers.
"I don't know sir; we need to figure out how we create a better cover. We can't just obliviate our way out of difficulties. That is too late and too obvious now."
"Very well Potter, I want a draft plan on how to hide an auror in Muggle London by the seventeenth of next month. Good work, and you know what good work get you?" Robards was smiling now as he waited for the automatic response.
"Good work leads to more work sir" Harry smiled. There was no rest for the conscientious.
Margo was sprawled cat like on the couch. Her long brown hair with a few streaks of gray hung off the far end of the couch in the small central London apartment. Half a dozen reports were stacked and marked on the end table. A cup of tea was losing its warmth next to a fascinating paper on delayed treatment initiation for prostate cancer among some sub-populations of elderly men. She was marking the methods section of an article she had to review. Even as her highlighter circled a questionable assumption about log linked gammas, she sighed. Her John, strong, proud, independent John, started to rub her feet.
She lost her spot in the referee report. His thumbs worked her arches. His fingers pulled on her toes. His hands engulfed her feet and she could feel the tension of an on-call day disappear. Ten minutes later, her feet were soft and malleable and relaxed. She smiled at her husband of twenty odd years. He smiled back, wanting everything and wanting nothing in his eyes. He was at peace. His reality at the moment was only her, his focus was her left arch and heel, now her left Achilles.
"Umm honey, this is great… what's on your mind?" She knew the singleness of his focus felt amazing as all the stress of the day left her feet. The single mindedness was also how her husband cleared his head when he was thinking. Sometimes she was the beneficiary of that focus. Other times it was an extensive collection of fish flies that he almost never used but rarely sold which benefited from his need to allow his mind to go blank. And then he sometimes would run an impromptu half marathon with a half combat pack to flush the thoughts out of his head and into some semblance of order.
"Harry Potter and Hermione Granger and Ginerva Weasley and Ron Weasley are all on my mind. None of them exist but they are all too real." John Houlihan's hands never stopped moving. His thumbs went from heel to toe. His wife sighed as a tense muscle finally released.
She smiled at the man she had grown and matured with. She smiled at the man who was the father of her children. She promised much with eyes that still were excited to see him without a shirt. She waited in silence as one of the smarter men she knew needed the silence to finish processing out the thoughts that were still half formed. He was decisive, he was in charge, he was in command and he was also an introvert. New blades to the regiment would never believe that of the old man who had done and seen things none of them would imagine were possible for years, but the fast mind underneath the rough exterior needed time to slow down.
He looked at his wife. He saw her smile. He smiled as his fingers still kneaded her fasciitis; stretching out the hard tissue until it was supple and soft again. Even as the balls of her feet relaxed, his mind swirled as brilliant streams of thought intersected in multi-spectral bursts. They were not spies, but they looked like they had exceptional cover stores that the old KGB would have been proud to brag about over a vodka in a sauna in Siberia. Harry knew too much about him for him to be merely an oddity of no consequence. They all were oddities of some consequence, the question was of what.
And more importantly, they were all veterans who had seen the elephant too many times. They had seen luck take one friend and leave another unharmed. They had all seen missions that were nearly impossible and they paid the price to achieve that mission. They were predators on the loose who did not need to hunt. They were prey in the city who had no predators to fear. They were an enigma.
"Honey, what would you say if someone just disappeared from all records for a decade, and then pops back in?"
"Isn't that basically what you did?" She remembered the blacked out faces of team photographs, she remembered having to lie about what her husband did when coworkers at the hospital asked what her husband did. She remembered telling their children to just say that Pa was a consultant. He was a consultant who could jump out of a plane at 25,000 feet or swim three hundred meters without taking a breath. They were nearly invisible from the rest of society to protect him and the entire family; the IRA hotheads had always poked around at taking shots at SAS members and their families; Spetsnaz and GRU agents most likely scouted the villages in along the Marches to assess readiness and to prepare for assassinations and ambushes if war ever came to Western Europe again. They had lived quiet lives where every day living was laundered like the grass stained knees on their son's jumper - quietly, patiently and in deep cold water.
"Nah, those records were only the public face we had. And we still existed. Your NHS number never changed, your medical license has been constant and we still paid our taxes on time and in full. These four, there is nothing until last year for two of them and very little for the other two."
"So like a bomber under the sea?"
"Yeah… I like that. They're on a V patrol. Deep and silent until they chose to come up for whatever reason… I've read that the navy is worried that those bombers are too quiet and too undetectable. Something in Janes about how the next generation of Trident could be found by looking for the emptiness of sound instead of the presence of sound…." He paused and thought. He knew these black holes now existed. He had to submit a report to his superior as this was an actual threat instead of merely a personal curiosity. That could be done tomorrow.
His hands never stopped moving over his wife's leg. She was still smiling as her husband's mind had finally finished chewing over his thoughts. She stretched some more and shifted ever so slightly so that his strong fingers could continue to release all the tension in her muscles, but now his mind could focus solely on her instead of his thoughts.
Muggle London
"Last set, make it good, hold yourself in the hole for a four count; five reps in three, two one"
Half a dozen women walked underneath heavily loaded barbells. Their hair was matted. Sweat soaked shirts. One grunted as she took the load onto her shoulders. The rest took deep breaths. Soon the barbells descended. Each woman held the squat as deep as she could for a four count. Most managed to put their butts to their ankles while one managed to sink all the way to the floor.
The first rep was straightforward. The second time was not particularly difficult. One woman failed at the third repetition while two more barely completed four and did not attempt the fifth. The tallest woman sank into the deep squat and was stuck until she rolled the heavily laden bar off her back. The last two women sank, stayed and then fought to rise. They racked their bar and gave each other a high five to celebrate their success.
Twenty minutes later, Ginny left the locker room. A cold drink, a hot shower, and a protein shake had taken the worst of the initial pain out of her legs. That fifth rep of the fifth set was an ass killer. She knew that her thighs and hips would feel like she had been Crucioed by an incompetent tomorrow morning. However, this Muggle training had been paying off. Some wizards but even fewer Quidditch playing witches cared about their strength. She had put on a few pounds and it slowed her ever so slightly on her broom, but almost no one could knock her off course now. It had been two years since she had been knocked off her broom. Other Chasers were more skilled once they got the Quaffle in their hands, but few of them could fight through defenders like she could. It was a brute force method, and it was not a unique secret but so far, few Quidditch professionals were spending time at a Muggle gym moving iron.
Sally Ann, the tall woman who had barely failed on the fifth rep, waved at Ginny. The blond and the redhead had become friends, or at least more than work out partners. Sally Ann had introduced Ginny and Harry to several blokes she had fancied over the past year. Ginny and Harry had taken Sally Ann out to dinner every few weeks and had even sprung for a tiny one bedroom apartment as a Muggle facing living arrangement. The studio was connected to Grimmauld Place and Harry and Ginny could Floo over in a second as soon as the door detection charms indicated that they had guests. It was a chink in the armor of the Fidelius Charm but it was an acceptable risk.
Ginny waved back at her friend who now had to hurry to an accounting class.
She slowly walked down the sidewalk. Muggle London was still an amazing assault on her senses. It was far less confusing now than even two years ago when she and Harry started to go beyond the wards of Grimmauld Place and outside the confines of Diagon Alley and the Leaky Cauldron. Then she was a foreigner in her national capital. Everything about her screamed tourist from her inability to pay for a cup of tea to the three times when she was almost run over by a double-decker bus.
Now Muggle London was merely big and loud and amazing and confusing. She could be anonymous here. She was no more than a good looking young woman who attracted a few too many catcalls and crude comments. The most aggressive Muggle arseholes lost their balance and their dignity when they would not take her disengagement or a sharp retort as a hint. But this was the life of Muggle-born, it was barely different except for the words in the Wizarding World. She loved it all, as she hurried down the street, checking her purse to make sure she had a few pounds available. As she turned the corner, she felt a twinge of pain as an adductor muscle twitched and froze in place for a step and then she relaxed as her favorite curry restaurant was filling the quiet street with amazingly rich smells. The Guptas were potion masters who merely made magic with food. They could enlighten her senses, remove her from this world, and create incredible vivid memories with spices and beans and love along with a pressure cooker and a large range.
"The regular, luv?"
She smiled and nodded as she handed the standard fee over. She took her seat by the window and pulled out a romance novel. She needed new ideas to try with Harry. A few pages later, her curry magically appeared underneath her nose. The rich, savory scents soothed her and took her away for a moment. She paused and thanked her server and then started to eat.
As she ate, a dozen more customers came through. Most she recognized. One she did not.
A young woman, a few inches taller than Ginny and almost as fit stood in line. Her eyes, deep blue, almost purple, darted back and forth. Her feet moved nervously, hands and elbows darting out whenever someone came to close to her. A bubble of space surrounded her. Ginny looked harder as something about her was familiar. Her hair was blue and purple, a professional dye job, her lips were full and her nose slightly off centered as if it had broken and set by a field medic rather than an A&E physician. She wore a long black dress that hugged her full, almost unnatural, form. Three quarter length sleeves covered most of her arms, but a dragon fire tattoo snuck out along her well muscled right forearm. She placed an order for the house special and water.
She looked over at Ginny. Ginny did not look down. The oddity of not being embarrassed at being caught staring made the young woman look harder at Ginny. Suddenly tears came to her eyes even as her mouth erupted in an honest smile. Ginny saw all the little wrinkles and micro muscles move in joy; reading people had saved her more than once. It was a skill that living with Fred and George had taught her as good pranksters needed to know what they could get away with before bringing the hammer of either the law or Mom down upon them. Ron, now that he had the emotional range of at least a pint glass, was starting to pick up this skill, but Ginny had been able to read the dinner table since she was old enough to cut up her own food.
Her eyes narrowed some more and then she stepped away from the counter. Four steps, three steps, and Ginny's hand was on her wand, gripping it lightly and mentally ready to throw a Protego. As the young woman came within a step, her mouth opened.
"Ginny, Ginny Weasley, is that you?"
Ginny was stunned. And then as she heard the voice, she no longer saw a young woman, confident and assured in navigating Muggle London. Instead she saw a fifteen year old witch crying in her arms. She saw a body that could barely move and a soul fracturing against her.
Ginny had held her as Luna treated her as well a she could for the injuries the Hufflepuff fifth year had incurred in a detention that started with Crucios and ended with half of Slytherin riding her like a school broom. She was the first student evacuated once Neville figured out that the Hogs Head was an emergency exit.
"Leah? You look better! How are you doing? We never saw you again"
"Ginny!" She pulled up her old schoolmate and gripped her tightly. Strong shoulders pulled her in as Ginny hugged back. Her hands quickly moved up and down Leah's body and could not find a wand. Perhaps it was strapped to her thigh or calf, but most witches wanted easy access to their wands in case of an emergency. Ginny held the evacuee even as deep sobs came out of her body.
"You're okay, you're safe, we're safe… we're safe…. We're safe. You're safe… you're safe with me " Ginny whispered this mantra into Leah's ear and soon, the full body binding grip relaxed and her sobs became slightly shallow and rapid breaths and she sat.
"Ginny, I never thought I would see you again. I'm so happy, I can't talk long, I have to get back to the set in a few hours for another scene. The riggers screwed up and needed to rerun some things so I have a break…"
Their lunch arrived and Leah ate like she had not seen food in weeks. Ginny still saw Ron, Hermione and Harry eat like that too. The scars would never readily heal. Little was said beyond the most basic. Leah knew that the war had ended and Harry had somehow been the victor. She knew Hogwarts had nearly been destroyed in the final battle. She was staying away from the magical world as she did not know if a mediocre Mudblood would ever be welcomed or feel safe in it again. Her watch beeped and she ate two more bites of the vindaloo curry before she gave Ginny her number.
Ginny waved at the young woman who had gone through so much during the war. She would call tonight after Quidditch training. Tea would be wonderful.
