Gamblers Among Themselves

The following morning, Anderson met the Minister in her office for the daily briefing and gave her a detailed account of the report Wilkinson had given that morning.

"If that is true," he concluded, "and I have no doubt it is, we are dealing with a large-scale conspiracy to assassinate you in order to bring about a coup, and the masterminds must be here in the Ministry."

"But you don't have any hard clues as to who it could be?", Hermione demanded.

Anderson shook his head. "MacAllister and his boys probably don't know their contact person themselves. Part of their discussion related to the fact that it could be a trap that I am setting for them."

"Clever, those guys," Hermione muttered. "And how are they going to escape this supposed trap?"

"They have already declared to the unknown person their willingness to cooperate and have decided internally to carry out the attack as well – provided he makes himself known in person instead of keeping in contact through magical letter paper, as has been the case so far. That means they want to meet him near Hogwarts. They expect him to disclose his exact plans to them as well."

"And on this occasion we'll arrest them all," Hermione added.

"Not necessarily. We learn who their contact at the Ministry is. This person doesn't necessarily need to be the head of the conspiracy, but we can observe it from then on to identify its co-conspirators. We also learn exactly how the attack is to take place and are able take appropriate countermeasures. But we will only strike when we know the entire conspiracy network. Only when we're sure that no one is slipping through our fingers will we knock out the whole plot in one fell swoop!"

"Very good!"

"Until then, however, we have to do investigations within the Ministry. I will first try to narrow down the circle of suspects so that we can observe them."

"All right, Cesar, you have a free hand, I'm relying on you. Is there anything else important to discuss for today?"

"Yes, indeed ..." replied Anderson hesitantly, "and it's a little ... unpleasant."

"Well, fire away!"

"You know I have set up a network of informers all over the country who routinely report anything strange or suspicious that happens. One of them has contacted us now. He works for a manufacturer of flying brooms. This man reports that a company that has never ordered such brooms before recently ordered no less than nine Firebolts at once!"

"That's undoubtedly a conspicuous order, Cesar," Hermione replied – indeed, Firebolts were to the magical world roughly what Ferraris were to the Muggle world – "but is it something the Minister has to be interested in it?"

"I'm afraid it is, and that's what makes it so unpleasant. This unusual client is Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes."

Now, Hermione indeed was interested. "Do you have any guesses as to what the purpose of this order might be?"

"It's just speculation, of course," Anderson cautiously said, "but if I were planning to free Potter, I'd use brooms just like these."

"Ron and George," Hermione murmured, lost in thought. "Yes, it would be like both of them. On the other hand – maybe they're just planning a spectacular publicity stunt or something like that ..." Hermione thought for a moment, then looked at the chief of her secret service again. "Nevertheless, we should get to the bottom of this, and I suppose you wish to have my explicit permission for investigations against my husband's company?"

Anderson nodded.

"You've got it."

With that, the meeting was over. Anderson returned to his office.

"Rebecca," he ordered his secretary, "bring me all the dossiers on Magic Luck's clients."

Magic Luck was a notorious magical gambling house whose owner Grimbuck, a goblin, had formerly worked for Gringotts. According to rumours, he had been fired for embezzling customers' funds, but since the goblins were ironclad with the ministry, there was nothing against him when he applied for a casino licence. The ministry had granted him the concession under the condition of a strict profit restriction.

Unfortunately, he did not comply with the restriction. At the time Hermione founded the Magical Security Office, the Aurors were on the trail of Grimbuck's fraudulent gambling manipulations, with which he had fleeced the customers of his casino out of fantastic sums of money. His overdue arrest, however, had been prevented at the very last moment by Anderson, who by virtue of his special powers discharged Magical Law Enforcement from the case and transferred it to Magical Security – which was highly frustrating to the Aurors, who saw themselves deprived of the fruits of a whole year of tenacious investigation.

Faced with the choice of cooperating with the secret police and continuing to enrich himself – not without paying a fee to the MSO's slush funds – or ending up in Azkaban for several years, Grimbuck decided to cooperate and supplied Anderson with dossier after dossier on conspicuous customers, especially those addicted to gambling. Anderson only had to skim the individual dossiers to pick out details that might be useful to him later on. He had an almost unlimited memory for information of this kind.

Now he remembered that among his dossiers had been that of an accountant ...

Darius Green was a spotless citizen of the Magical State, happily married, father of two children, popular with his neighbours who entrusted him without hesitation with the key spells when they Disapparated on holiday, a correct accountant who enjoyed the absolute trust of his employers. Nobody knew that he was living a double life. Almost nobody.

When he left his office in the late afternoon to Diagon Alley – it wasn't possible to Disapparate directly from the building because of the protective spells there – he was approached by an inconspicuous-looking man.

"Mister Green?"

"Yes please?"

"Edward Saunders," the man introduced himself. "I am an Auror."

Green glanced quickly at the Ministry ID card.

"How can I help you, sir?"

"Would you please follow me to the Ministry? There are facts to be clarified."

Green, who had never dealt with an Auror before, felt himself getting hot. "This is very inconvenient for now ... May I ask you what it's about?"

"You may ask," the Auror replied with a slight irony. "You'll get the answer on the spot. Would you please touch my arm?"

Opposing an Auror was, of course, out of the question for Green. He touched Saunders' arm, and seconds later they were both standing in the atrium of the Ministry, from whose lifts numerous civil servants were leaving to enjoy their well-deserved evening off.

The Auror led Green into a lift, and Green realised with unease that it went up to the Minister's floor without stopping. The automatic lift voice told them that the Magical Security Office was also on this floor. He swallowed.

A moment later he was sitting opposite Cesar Anderson, who leaned back casually in his executive chair, leafed through a file and pretended not to notice his visitor for several minutes. Suddenly, apparently still engrossed in the file, he started speaking:

"Your name is Darius Malcolm Green, born 18th June 1982 in London, married, two children, accountant at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes since 2012?"

"That's correct, sir."

Now Anderson looked at him:

"Do you earn good money at your job?"

"Well, er – it's enough to make a living, sir."

"Does this making a living imply evading tax on income you may have earned?"

"How dare you, sir! Of course not!" shouted Green, honestly indignant.

"Calm down, Mister Green, I believe you." Anderson tantalised him a little and looked at him roughly like a snake at a trembling rabbit before striking: "However, that's exactly why I have to ask myself where the twenty thousand galleons came from – the amount you gambled away at Magic Luck's in just three months. Well?"

Green began to sweat visibly.

"Er ... sir, I had savings..." he stammered.

"You hadn't. We've done a background check on you."

"How dare you ..." He panicked. "Banking secrecy ..."

"You know I'm not a normal Auror, Mister Green?"

"No, you are head of the Magical Security Office, I know."

"So you should be aware then that there are no secrets for me, and certainly no bank secrets."

Green couldn't know that Anderson was just bluffing, for Gringotts was an impregnable fortress even for him. But in just a few months he had managed to give his secret service an intimidating aura of omniscience in the eyes of the public.

"I, uh, I had my savings at home."

"Twenty thousand galleons under the pillow? Where they don't yield a profit? You – an accountant?" sneered Anderson.

"Without my lawyer, I won't say anything at all!" exclaimed Green in desperation.

"The lawyer will be of little use to you if I inform the Weasley's of your expensive leisure activities and they have a look into your records with the assistance of Magical Law Enforcement experts!"

"Please, sir ... I wanted to give it back ..."

Anderson grinned. He had shot in the dark and hit the bull's eye.

"That's what they all say."

"Please don't, sir! I'll lose my position, I'll be ruined if ..."

"Well, Mister Green, as I told you, I am not a normal Auror. I can involve Magical Law Enforcement, but I don't need to. Basically, it depends entirely on you."

In his panic, Green immediately catched at the straw: "Please, sir, what do I have to do?"

"Truthfully report to me everything going on in your company."

"Do I really have to, sir?" The Weasleys have always been good to me ..."

"Which didn't prevent you from betraying them," Anderson mocked. "But well, if you don't want to ..."

"Yes, yes, I do," Green hastened to assure him. "I'll tell you everything you want to know."

"Very good. And don't even try to pull the wool over my eyes. There are things we already know, and that's why I notice when you're hiding something from me! If you do, your file will be at Magical Law Enforcement quicker than it takes you to say 'embezzlement'!"

"I will tell you everything I know, sir."

"Very clever. Well, has the company placed any conspicuous orders recently?"

"Er, conspicuous orders, sir?"

"Don't parrot and bore me!" Anderson thundered at him. "Did they or didn't they?"

"Yes, sir, they did," the intimidated accountant confirmed. "Nine Firebolts. I asked Ron Weasley why we needed them, as we don't sell flying brooms, but Mr Weasley said it wasn't my business. He's been rather gruff lately, you know – the separation from his wife ..."

"I know," Anderson cut in. "What else?"

"An unusually large amount of Peruvian Darkness Powder. We purchase that regularly, but this time the lot was twice as large as usual. But I didn't want to ask any more."

Anderson also stored this information in his memory.

"Next?"

"Nothing else, sir, so no conspicuous orders. But other things were strange."

Anderson heard it with satisfaction. His source really started to flow. "What things?"

"Two, how shall I put it, conferences attended by almost the entire Weasley family."

"When?"

"One on the 18th of January and one yesterday, the 31st, and both at nine in the morning. And they secured the door both times with an Imperturbable Charm. But when they came out, at least I could see who was there."

"Who?"

"Wait, it was," – he pondered -, "Arthur, Molly, Bill, Charlie and Fleur Weasley, plus Ron and George Weasley, of course, and Ginny Potter."

Anderson kept his poker face.

"Were you able to understand anything of their conversation?"

"No, sir, the door, as I told you, was protected by a spell. Oh yes, when coming out yesterday, Ginny Potter said to the others: 'See you Wednesday'."

"Where did these meetings take place?"

"Both in Ron Weasley's office, sir."

"Do you have access to this office?"

"Not alone, but I am there every Monday, Wednesday and Friday for business meetings."

"Always the same time?"

"Eleven o'clock in the morning."

Anderson leaned back and looked up at the ceiling, pondering. Then he again focused on the interrogated.

"Goooood," he finally said slowly. "So let's fill in a little paperwork first."

Anderson slid Green the same commitment form across the table that Wilkinson had had to sign. Green, feeling he had no choice, signed.

"Well then," – Anderson rose and offered his hand to Green as if they had both just done a roaring trade – "here's to good cooperation!"

Green looked like someone trying to smile while swallowing a lemon.

"Yes, sir," he sighed, resigned to his fate.

"I guess I have to motivate you a little, Green, have I? Well: If you have done your first job properly, the office will reward you."

"Reward?"

"I think a thousand galleons would be a good fee to start with, don't you agree?"

"Oh yes, sir, thank you very much, sir! And what's the job?"

"Listen ..."