Correct Aurors
McGonagall and Barclay were already talking when Harry entered the Headmistress' office.
"Excuse me please, I got held up," he said, shaking hands with both of them and nodding to the portrait of Dumbledore who nodded back with a friendly smile.
"No problem, you haven't missed anything yet," McGonagall replied graciously. "And now that we have two experienced Aurors here, I'm asking you for suggestions on how to convict the perpetrator, and to do so before he commits the next attack."
"Actually, I'm not supposed to investigate," Barclay said. "Susan Bones sent me a bitterly angry owl mail today and instructed me not to do anything in future in the event of incidents of this kind, but to alert the Aurors immediately. Suppose she'll invade Hogwarts with a full squad."
"Susan hasn't to give you any orders," McGonagall replied, "as long as you are exempted from Auror service. Since you are a teacher at Hogwarts, there is only one person authorised to give you instructions – me."
"I know," Barclay agreed, "and I don't feel bound by Susan's instructions. I just wanted to point out how eager the Ministry seems to be to get its foot in the door at Hogwarts."
Harry listened attentively. Barclay was usually the embodiment of a loyal civil servant. The fact that he spoke so critically about the Ministry was new and showed how much Hermione had already antagonised her best men. He decided to sound things out:
"Gracchus, do you think it possible," he asked with caution, "that the offender could be acting on behalf of the Ministry?"
"On behalf of Hermione, Susan, or Cesar?" asked Barclay, raising his eyebrows. "Six months ago, we both would have laughed ourselves to death at the mere idea. But in the meantime ... well, it's possible."
There was silence for a moment, then Barclay continued:
"At least the person who informed the Daily Prophet is almost certainly acting on behalf of the ministry."
"And this person is ...?" asked Harry, not wanting to reveal how much he already knew.
"Richardson," Barclay said quietly, quoting the very clues Harry had already discussed with the Incorruptibles.
"The question, however," said Harry, "is whether she is also the attacker. Actually, I don't think anyone believes she's capable of it, unless..." Harry paused to give Barclay a chance to finish the idea:
"Unless," the latter took up the ball, "she was under the Imperius Curse."
"There should be a way to find out, though," McGonagall interjected.
"Certainly," Harry confirmed, "but not without the person concerned being aware of it, and the necessary spells may only be used by Aurors on duty – that is, not by Gracchus or me. To do so, even active Aurors need the express permission of the Head of department. Those who do it without authorisation will earn themselves several years in Azkaban, as will those who use Veritaserum without authorisation. Of course, one could still do it and then wipe Richardson's memory ..."
Barclay cleared his throat audibly. "I am taking for granted, Harry, that these are purely theoretical considerations," said he firmly. However critical of the Ministry, he was, after all, a correct civil servant. He would arrest anyone who violated the law, even the Minister if necessary, but he would never do anything forbidden himself.
"Of course," Harry replied. "I just wanted to bring Professor McGonagall up to speed on what we know."
"Sure, Harry, and it shouldn't be suspicion, for I know what a correct person you are."
Harry grinned to himself: At the same moment that Gracchus was praising his correctness, his wife and son were busy in the same building, preparing the hiding place for the kidnapping of the Minister for Magic.
"I think the Imperius thing is plausible," Barclay said. "I have noticed for some time that she seemed so strangely elated. Of course, this can have various causes – she could be in love or consume certain potions. But it could also be a sign of the Imperius, and that seems to me the most likely in the light of recent events."
"So what do you suggest?" asked McGonagall.
"Firstly, keep an eye on Richardson," Harry replied, "secondly, strengthen the protection around Hogwarts so that no outsider can get in even if they happen to be an Auror ..."
"Indeed, there are still some security gaps," Barclay confirmed.
"Which you will close." For a moment Harry had forgotten that he was no longer Barclay's superior. "Thirdly, increasingly teach self-defence spells in class, including the younger students, even if it's not on their curriculum," Harry continued, and Barclay nodded.
"Fourthly, ensure that Muggle-born students are always accompanied, and fifthly, establish a patrol of reliable students."
"I wonder if it will help much," Barclay said doubtfully. "The offender is likely to be moving under protection of an Invisibility Spell, and it won't do much good to fire Disinvisibilis Spells around at random."
"That's right," Harry admitted, "but ask MacAllister to show you his Calorate spell, it automatically makes everyone visible, even if they're wearing a Invisibility Cloak. One of the few things we can reasonably assume is that he makes himself invisible, so that anyone who is caught doing this is automatically suspect. Which should narrow the pool of suspects considerably. I would also just brief the patrollers themselves about Calorate, our offender shouldn't be warned of being visible to them."
"Professor McGonagall?" Barclay gave the Headmistress a questioning look.
"Gracchus, you are instructed to take the necessary measures. Do exactly what Harry told us – unless you have any objections or additional suggestions."
"No objections, no suggestions," Barclay replied.
"All right," McGonagall said, rising. The two men did likewise. "Then the only thing left for me to do is to wish you a good evening. And, Harry, give my regards to Ginny."
After leaving the office, they stopped for a moment.
"Your youngest son is developing well, Harry. He impressed me yesterday."
"Did he?" Harry beamed.
"Oh yeah. Even for an adult, even and particularly if he is innocent, it is unpleasant to face an Auror during interrogation as a suspect, even more so for an eleven-year-old. Albus managed the situation with great calm, courtesy, factuality, self-confidence and intelligence. And given the spells he's already able to do, you should already earmark him for the Auror Department."
"I'd love to," Harry said, "I think most fathers are happy to have a son follow in their footsteps. But as long as Hermione is in power, I couldn't advise him to do that."
"Well," Barclay tried to deflect, "Hermione won't be in power forever."
"I'm afraid she won't need a long time, Gracchus. A few more years, if at all, and we won't have to worry about an Auror career for Albus if only because there won't be a Magical State then."
Barclay looked at him in dismay. "It won't be that bad. You shouldn't take your suspension so much to heart, there will be better days, I am sure."
"Maybe you're right," Harry conceded. He didn't want to rub Barclay's nose in the fact that his former superior was now one of the most bitter opponents of Hermione's policy. "Well, I'll be on my way home."
"I suppose you find your own way out?" said Barclay with a grin.
"I know Hogwarts better than the Ministry," Harry replied, also grinning.
They separated. When Harry heard Barclay's footsteps recede, he stopped and thought.
There are a few simple basic rules, Harry recalled his long-ago training under Cesar and his voice. Always keep control and initiative. Always be one step ahead of the opponent. Never let yourself be surprised. Eliminate sources of danger.
Harry grinned grimly. Well, Cesar, now I am going to turn your principles against you. You'll be surprised what I've learned from you.
He pondered for a few more minutes, then made himself invisible and swiftly headed for the second floor. He now knew what he had to do.
Meanwhile, Ginny and Albus were busily transforming the former Chamber of Secrets into a five-star luxury residence. Ginny had brought everything they needed in miniature. First they furnished the bedroom.
Albus was quite amazed when his mother enlarged the bed intended for Hermione. "Mum, that's a cloud bed!"
Indeed, the mattress had the shape of a splendid cloud, and that's exactly how it felt when Albus threw himself onto it with gusto and lay for a moment with his arms spread out on his back, enjoying the blissful feeling of floating. Then he straightened up:
"Did you conjure that yourself?"
Ginny laughed. "This is nothing you can simply conjure, you have to buy it."
"Wow, that must have cost a small fortune!"
"It did, but fortunately we are not poor. Hermione is worth it to us."
"My goodness, I'd like to be kidnapped by us too!"
Then Ginny enlarged the rococo-style dressing table and filled it with what women need, including Hermione's favourite perfumes, which she, as her best friend, perfectly knew.
Next were pictures. It took quite a while for Ginny and Albus to enlarge all the many pictures and attach them to the wall, protected by spells that made them indetachable and indestructible, reminding Hermione of happy days: Pictures from her Hogwarts days, pictures of her wedding to Ron, pictures of family celebrations and Christmas parties ...
"You know why we are doing this?" she asked her son between two photos.
"To strengthen her soul to resist the intruder. Dad says he wants her to feel that she is loved."
Ginny nodded, and there was a suspicious glint in her eyes as her gaze kept lingering on a picture of her and Hermione that had been taken on the day of Bill's wedding. Harry had broken off their relationship shortly before to chase Voldemort, and Hermione had been the one to encourage and comfort her. How long ago it all was ...
"Mum," Albus startled her out of her thoughts.
"Yeah?"
"Why don't you just install a Pensieve for Hermione? That would be even more effective than pictures. We could sink into it all our great memories we shared with her. I don't think she can resist the temptation to dive into it."
Ginny hugged him tightly. Since none of his friends were watching, he had no problem with it. "That's an excellent idea, let's do that!"
Under Ginny's magic hands, the bathroom became a dream of gold and marble. The kitchen was small, Hermione didn't enjoy cooking, so they had decided to provide her with ready-prepared meals, preserved with a keep-fresh charm. Finally, the living room was to be decorated.
If there was one thing Hermione definitely needed to feel good, it was books, and lots of them. Although they were only doll's house size, the books that Ginny shaked out of her infinite bag piled up into a considerable height, and it took quite a while to enlarge all the books and put them on the shelf. When they had almost finished, they heard footsteps.
"It's just me," shouted Harry, before he stopped dead. "Wow! A queen could not live more comfortably!"
"Did you expect anything else?" Ginny asked jokingly, leading him through the rooms like a proud lady of the castle.
"By the way, your son has an amazing idea!" She explained him Albus' Pensieve idea. Harry was also immediately enthusiastic.
"Pensieves are hard to get, but I have quite good connections. But now for something else: Albus, I've come down here because I wanted to meet you before bedtime. I need the Invisibility Cloak and the Marauder's Map today. I will leave both of them in the secret room later before we Disapparate."
"No problem," Albus said, "just to return to the Slytherin common room, an Invisibility Charm is all I need."
"What do you need the Invisibility Cloak for?", Ginny demanded. "Isn't an Invisibility Charm sufficient for you?"
"Not in this case. I want to rule out being made visible with Disinvisibilis."
Ginny raised her eyebrows.
"I'll explain later," Harry said. "You can Disapparate now if you want."
"No, I don't! I'm waiting for you in the secret room."
They checked the Marauder's Map to make sure the coast was clear upstairs and flew up with Ginny's and Albus' brooms, Albus sitting behind his mother and leaving his father his broom. While Ginny went to the secret room and Albus took his broom to get the Slytherin rooms for fun, Harry, under the Invisibility Cloak, headed for Richardson's small flat.