A/N: Back with my longest chapter yet! Things are really starting to get going now. One thing I really love about Harry is that, even though he's the hero, he's a little bit of an idiot, which I try my best to get across in his POV. We all know there's a reason he isn't in Ravenclaw ;-)
As always, thanks so much for all the reviews, favorites, follows, etc.! You are all lovely.
CHAPTER FIVE
It was blustery in Cornwall, freezing wind carrying spray from the ocean inland. The hems of their cloaks were soaked through by the time Harry and Ron had trudged their way up a winding path to the cliffside manor. Annoyance pricked hotly beneath Ron's skin, spurred on by the fact that Harry had splinched his left eyebrow clean off when they'd apparated. He'd overdone it when trying to fix it, and instead of an eyebrow Harry accidentally gave Ron a beard that grew at an alarming rate. It took a few minutes to sort it out, and by then the rain and wind had soaked through Ron's hair and he was thoroughly annoyed. The absolute last thing Ron wanted to do was climb up the side of a cliff in a monsoon to talk to that hag Daphne Greengrass about some theory they'd heard from Malfoy of all people.
While slightly alarmed at the growing reports of dark magic, Ron was less than concerned at Astoria Greengrass's disappearance. Perhaps there was foul play involved, but like Harry, he didn't see any indication of a larger force at work. Just as likely she'd run off to get away from Malfoy. Ron certainly would have.
When they finally got to the front landing, Ron noticed the knocker was in the shape of a skull. He rolled his eyes. Purebloods were so irritatingly predictable, honestly.
A decrepit house elf wearing what looked to be a fragment torn from a set of moth-eaten drapes answered the door, round eyes flitting nervously between Ron and Harry.
"Hello," Harry said kindly. "I'm Harry Potter and this is Ron Weasley. We're from the Auror office. We're looking for Daphne Greengrass, is she home?"
"Mistress did not says she was expecting guests," the house elf wheezed. Ron frowned, taking in the state of the old elf. He was hunched over, his delicate wrinkled skin giving him the appearance of crumpled tissue paper, and the arm he'd placed on the door frame looked about the only thing keeping him upright. Hermione would have been aghast.
"We hadn't sent word we were coming," Harry said. "We simply want to speak with her about her sister, Astoria, and then we'll be on our way." Harry didn't wait for a response, instead he stepped forward as if to come inside. Though looking hesitant, the house elf was obviously incapable of blatant rudeness to a wizard and moved aside.
"Wait here if you please while Dozey fetches his mistress," he instructed after he'd shown them to a sitting room. Ron watched him limp down the corridor, eyeing his slow, stilted movements and the way he dragged his left foot.
"Reckon Daphne Greengrass is as bad to her house elf as the Malfoys were to Dobby?" he muttered darkly. Harry paused in his careful inspection of the room, glancing over his shoulder at the retreating elf.
"Dunno. He doesn't seem too bad off, just old." Ron made a low noise in the back of his throat, but said nothing.
"Look, this must be Astoria," Harry said, gesturing to a photograph on the mantle. Ron moved closer, squinting. It was obviously a family portrait, with an adult witch and wizard wearing old fashioned robes and sitting in high back chairs at the center of the photo. Their children were positioned around them, two witches and a wizard in traditional magic attire. The oldest, who Ron recognized to be a teenaged Daphne, stood with her hand resting on the back of her mother's chair, wearing a haughty expression. The youngest was the boy, who didn't look old enough even to be at Hogwarts yet. He had the same blonde hair as Daphne and sat at his parents' feet. The girl who was obviously Astoria stood at her father's side, hands clasped together stiffly as she blinked at Ron. Unlike her siblings, she had the same dark hair as her mother.
"D'you recognize her from school?" Harry asked. Ron shook his head.
"No. But I wouldn't, would I? It's not as if we were exactly chummy with the Slytherins."
"Yeah, I don't remember her either," Harry said.
After several more minutes of waiting, the house elf came back, followed by a tall, blonde woman carrying a toddler. The elf bowed, but she didn't spare him a glance as she entered the room, and he was obscured behind the billow of her skirt.
"If it isn't Harry Potter and his faithful blood traitor sidekick," she said, her voice as high and nasty as Ron remembered. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" Not waiting for an answer, she spoke again, directing her words over her shoulder to the elf.
"Dozey," she said sharply. "Bring tea." Dozey bowed low as he backed out of the room, and Ron wondered whether he'd be able to get back up. Daphne Greengrass sat on the green velvet fainting couch, her young son perched on her lap. Harry and Ron remained standing by the mantle, and she made no move to invite them to sit.
"We've come to–" Harry began.
"Let me guess," she interrupted. "Draco Malfoy's told you some cock and bull story that my sister's been kidnapped. And you're here to ask me about Astoria." Harry nodded, while Ron stared at her stonily.
"Sorry to disappoint you, but I haven't seen her since last month. She visits Charles occasionally," she said, gesturing to her son, who was sucking on his fist. "But otherwise we don't speak.
"But you don't think she's gone missing?" Daphne gave them an annoyed look.
"Of course not, as I told Draco. My sister is something of a loner. It's not unusual for her to wander off on her own. And why would anyone have a reason to kidnap Astoria? She's quite inoffensive, all she does is read books and deliver babies. It's hardly a controversial life."
"What about extortion? Your family is one of the sacred twenty-eight. Maybe someone thought they'd pay quite a bit of gold to have her safely returned." Daphne didn't look particularly impressed. She turned away from them to watch her son who was highly entertained by the jewels encrusted on her robes.
"If that were true, they would have taken my younger brother. He's the heir to the Greengrass estate. Astoria is the second born daughter, she's hardly worth much. And besides, as I told you, she lives a solitary life quite separate from the rest of the family."
"Malfoy seems to think it unusual for her to disappear without a word to anyone," Ron said. Daphne rolled her eyes.
"Draco couldn't tell the right end of a broom these days. He's gotten terribly mixed up, if you ask me. His mother says he's tired," she said, emphasizing the word as if she really meant that Malfoy was an unhinged maniac who ought to be confined to St Mungos. Ron and Harry shared a look.
"And the last time you saw her, she didn't mention anything out of the ordinary? No strange occurrences, no fights with anyone?" Harry asked.
"No," Daphne said, still not looking up. "But we didn't have much conversation. It was a short visit, and she mostly spent the afternoon with Charles."
"What did they do?"
"She brought him a toy potions set, took him out in the garden for a bit, then apparated home."
"Did she apparate from the house?" Harry asked.
"No, there are wards in place. She went down the cliffside towards the village."
"So you didn't actually see her apparate?"
"No," Daphne said, sounding supremely unconcerned. Ron tried to imagine how he would react if no one had seen his little sister for over a week. Remembering how terrified he'd felt in second year when Ginny had been taken to the Chamber of Secrets, his temper flared.
"So no one has heard from your only sister in days, her boyfriend's convinced she's in trouble with dark wizards, and last you saw she was headed down to an unfamiliar village on her own. And you're not the slightest bit concerned that something might have happened to her. Have I got it right?" Ron asked, not bothering to hide his disdain. Daphne finally raised her head from her son, fixing a hard stare on them. Her lip curled.
"I've told you everything I know. It's time for you to leave." She rose from her seat. Harry glanced at Ron, looking exasperated.
"Look, Ms. Greengrass, he didn't mean–"
"Dozey," she said, as the decrepit house elf appeared, shakily holding a massive tray of tea and biscuits. "Please show our guests to the door. Take away the tea, we won't be needing it." Without a backwards glance, Daphne Greengrass disappeared down the corridor.
"Come, sirs," Dozey wheezed, his trembling hands struggling with the tea tray.
"Here, let me," Ron murmured. He moved forward and took the tray from Dozey's grasp, setting it on the sideboard. They were silent as they followed Dozey to the front door.
"Soon as we get back to the ministry, I'm submitting an inquiry about that elf," Ron said after the door had shut behind them. He scowled.
"Did you have to lose your temper with her?" Harry asked in a tired tone of voice.
"You heard her! Her sister's missing and she doesn't give a damn. She acted like the whole thing was beneath her, and then I thought of Ginny–" Ron broke off, frowning darkly.
"Besides, she obviously didn't know a damn thing, she didn't even mention that Astoria and Malfoy'd had a row. I doubt Astoria told her. And with a sister like that, I don't blame her, I wouldn't tell her anything either."
They walked in silence for a few moments, the only noise the sounds of their boots crunching against rock as they clambered down the cliffside path towards the village.
"Well, that was a waste of time. Really lovely sister she is, I bet family dinners are a right laugh. She and I do agree on one thing though: I don't believe a word that tosser Malfoy says," Ron said.
"I don't believe either one of them," Harry agreed.
Suddenly, Harry pivoted and kicked a rock savagely, knocking it over the cliff's edge several meters away. Harry and Ron stared where it had fallen till they heard the dull plunk of the rock meeting the ocean.
"I'm so sick of this shit," Harry said without looking at Ron.
"Yeah," he agreed, not entirely sure what Harry was referring to, but feeling similarly fed up.
"Seven bloody years fighting against Voldemort, now he's finally gone and I think I might actually have a chance at having a normal, happy life." He laughed humorlessly, the sound echoing in Ron's ears despite the wind. "And now, this! Another dark fucking wizard. I mean, is this all there is? Am I never gonna be rid of this bloody curse?"
"Well," Ron said finally. "Reckon you might have done after the war, if we hadn't become Aurors." Harry didn't answer, instead wearing the brooding expression that Ron associated with fifth year as he trudged down the cliffside in silence.
"You could always do something else," Ron suggested. Harry glowered, moodily kicking at a rock in his path.
"Like what? I'm rubbish at everything else." Ron laughed.
"Yeah, right, every department in the ministry would be falling all over themselves to get the savior of the wizarding world working for them." A thought popped into Ron's mind, and he turned towards Harry. "Actually, d'you know what you'd be good at? Teaching. You were brilliant at the D.A., we all learned loads. I bet McGonagall would wet herself if you told her you wanted to be the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher." Harry looked alarmed.
"I can't think of anything worse than having to be back at school every day. Besides, the D.A. was one thing, I could pick who I taught, couldn't I? I don't wanna have to teach the Malfoys of the world. And I really wouldn't want to hand out detentions, I mean what kind of hypocrite would that make me?" Ron laughed. Harry shook his head and sighed. "No, reckon I ought to just stick with what I know, which is catching dark wizards. Seems like we've gotten pretty good at it, yeah?"
Ron's stomach clenched with anxiety at Harry's words. Recently, Ron hadn't wanted to stick with being an Auror. In fact, he found himself fantasizing about doing something else, anything else really. It wasn't that he hated it or anything, but he rather fancied a bit less excitement in his life these days, especially now that he and Hermione were about to be married. He could do without the constant life threatening danger, if he was honest.
"Er, well, yeah, that's alright for you, I s'pose," he said eventually. Harry gave him a puzzled look, pausing to look at him properly. Ron stopped a few paces further down the path, glancing at Harry over his shoulder.
"What do you mean?" Harry asked. Ron gave a jerky shrug, then shoved his hands in his pockets to cope with the sudden awkwardness that overcame him. It felt like he was being far more vulnerable than just talking about a career shift, like he was laying all his deepest fears bare for Harry to see.
"I dunno. Just not sure I see myself doing this forever." Harry's eyebrows shot up.
"Really?" Ron sighed. He wasn't exactly thrilled at the idea of saying the words aloud. He hadn't mentioned these feelings of restlessness to anyone, even Hermione, and he was worried what might come of it if he let them out into the world. Safer to just keep them bouncing around inside his mind. But Harry was looking at him expectantly and there was no turning back now.
"Look," Ron said. "You're a born Auror. You've had a mark on you for ages so it makes sense you'd come to it naturally. But I don't really fancy being an Auror forever, mate."
"Oh. I didn't realize."
"Yeah. Actually, I don't much fancy being an Auror beyond this year if I'm honest."
"Oh," Harry repeated, not knowing how else to respond. He'd always imagined him and Ron being Aurors together. While Hermione frequently went down a different path, had different ambitions, Harry and Ron had always been partners in everything. It was weird to imagine working without him.
"Well," Harry finally said. "What is it you do fancy doing?"
At this question, Ron's ears went pink. Harry waited, suspecting this was a conversation Ron needed to have.
"Well, honestly, I want to do what you and Ginny are doing. Y'know, have a kid, be a dad. But I reckon Hermione won't go for that right now with her just getting promoted and all. So I thought I might stay at the joke shop. It's too much for George all on his own, and I know he needs more help what with the Hogsmeade expansion. Besides, if I manage to wear Hermione down on a baby then I could always cut back at the shop so she doesn't have to sacrifice work."
Harry was surprised at how much thought Ron had obviously put into it. Even after years of friendship, he and Ron didn't often have these open, vulnerable conversations, and Harry flailed momentarily for a response. Based on the nervous look on his face, Harry suspected Ron hadn't shared this idea with anyone yet. He felt simultaneously flattered that his best mate had chosen to tell him over everyone else and overwhelmed with the pressure of saying the right thing in response.
"That's really great, Ron. You'll be a brilliant dad. And that's really, y'know, thoughtful of you, cause I can't see Hermione wanting to cut back at work, er, well, ever really. She'd probably bring a baby to sit the Wizengamot with her," Harry said, chuckling a little awkwardly. Ron gave him a small, hopeful smile, which Harry figured meant he'd said the right thing. "I honestly can't believe how sensitive you've gotten these days. It's a far cry from all the times Hermione gave you the silent treatment at school, yeah?"
Ron's face went pink along with his ears, but he looked pleased. They resumed walking down towards the village.
"Yeah, well, I reckon Hermione's put up with me being a useless git long enough, I ought to try and make it up to her."
"Nah, you've never been useless. You've always been a git though, that hasn't changed."
Ron laughed.
"Shut up, Harry. You're the one who's the git. I can't believe my sister puts up with you."
"Me neither," Harry agreed. They grinned at each other. The trail faded into a muddy quagmire as it leveled out closer to the village. Ron made a disgusted noise as he wrenched one of his boots from the mud with a loud squelch.
"C'mon then, let's get out of here before it starts pouring again. Mum'll have a go at us already for tracking mud in the hearth, I'm sure, best not make it worse."
Harry had just barely tumbled out of the fireplace at the Burrow when Victoire and Dominique hurled themselves at him. Dominique wrapped her tiny around his neck, practically strangling him, while Victoire fastened herself to his cloak. He was vaguely impressed at the strength and tenacity of their grasps considering they were three and four years old.
"Uncle Harry, come see my new toy dragon!"
"Uncle Harry, will you take us flying?"
"Daddy said you're too little, Dominique!"
"Then you can't either!"
"Yes, I can, I'm old enough!"
Neither girl seemed to notice Harry was gasping for breath as he attempted to simultaneously balance them and not inhale any of the soot dusted across his face.
"Uncle Ron!" they both chorused, abandoning Harry to fling themselves at Ron, who had just stepped out of the fire.
"Oof," he grunted, as both girls clung to his waist. He reached down and lifted Dominique on his shoulders, wincing as she grabbed a fistful of his hair.
"Oi, easy, alright? Don't want me going bald as your dad, do you?" he asked. Dominique and Victoire both sniggered.
"Daddy isn't bald!" Victoire cried gleefully, still clinging to Ron.
"Not yet, but give it a few years."
"Oh, there you two are!" Molly Weasley bustled into the den, grasping Harry by his cloak and kissing him on the cheek. She flicked her wand at him and the layer of soot evaporated. "I was beginning to worry you wouldn't have time to come by. I've got a shepherd's pie waiting."
"Excellent!" Ron said, looking delighted at the prospect.
"Victoire, get off your uncle so he can have his lunch," Molly said to Victoire, who was now standing on top of Ron's feet.
"She's alright," Ron said, walking easily with her, while Dominique slid down to hang from Ron's back, hands clasped round his throat. Harry tried not to laugh at the bizarre image and followed Ron through to the kitchen.
"Harry, dear, I wanted to ask you about the party for Ginny," Molly said to him. Harry's stomach sank. The tension between Ginny and her mother had been growing alongside her pregnancy, and Ginny was getting entirely fed up with Molly's interference. Harry knew better than to get in the middle of a battle of wills between his stubborn wife and his equally stubborn mother-in-law. He got the distinct impression that Molly involving him in the party planning was an attempt to get him on her side.
"Oh, er, yeah, alright, though I dunno if I'll have an answer…"
"It's customary for a witch to have a party on the eve of motherhood, you know. It's generally a time for other witches to give her advice, loved ones to bring gifts, and for everyone to see her before the baby is born. Of course we'll have the family and her old teammates, and I've invited a few people from the ministry as well. I thought you two would like a more intimate party."
"Yeah, sounds great, Molly. Thanks."
"What will you be doing for the christening?" she asked. It took Harry a moment to comprehend the words, so confused by this sudden change. He hadn't even thought about a christening, barely having imagined the baby being born.
"The christening?" Harry repeated, sitting down beside Ron. Victoire sat on his other side, her blonde head barely tall enough to peer over the table. .
"Yes, after the birth," Molly said. With a wave of her wand, two plates of shepherd's pie flew onto the table.
"We haven't really discussed it," Harry said truthfully. Molly tutted.
"Well, you'll want to! It sneaks up on you, you know. And once the baby's born, you won't have the time to sort it out. I would be happy to plan it, if you like." Harry picked up his fork, trying to think of a way to turn her down without seeming unappreciative.
"Yeah, alright," he said, noncommittal. Ron tucked into his pie, ignoring them, while bouncing Dominique on his knee.
"Have you chosen godparents?" Molly asked, quite determined to continue the topic. Harry understood very well why Ginny was so annoyed with her mother lately. All he wanted was to eat his lunch in relative peace, but Molly gave no indication of letting him.
"Not officially. I expect we'll have Ron and Hermione, if they'll agree to it." Ron glanced up from his shepherd's pie.
"Cheers, mate."
"And what about the birth? I know Ginny has got her own midwitch, but I am skilled at that sort of magic. If she'd like to have the baby here, I could–"
"Where's dad?" Ron asked, pointedly cutting across her. Harry sent him a grateful look and shoved a forkful of pie into his mouth. Molly pursed her lips, looking suspicious at the sudden interruption, but didn't comment.
"Out in the garage. He's got some new muggle contraption, a little box that's supposed to show pictures called a boy game or something. Only he can't seem to get it working with all the magic around."
"A GameBoy?" Ron exclaimed, looking delighted. "Hermione bought one for her cousin last Christmas. I tried it out in the store when she bought it, it was dead fun. Y'know, I used to think dad was barmy for being fascinated with muggle stuff, but actually, now I reckon he might be onto something." Harry grinned.
"Wonder what it could be that's made you fancy muggles all of the sudden?"
Apparently uninterested now that the conversation had turned to muggle items, Molly rose and began cleaning the remains of lunch, sending dishes zooming to the sink where they began washing themselves.
"Shut up," Ron said, but grinned at Harry. Obviously put out at not being given their undivided attention, Victoire sat up on her knees, leaning her torso across the kitchen table.
"Did you know that I can do magic now? Watch this!" She screwed up her face in concentration and Ron's abandoned fork skidded across the tabletop as if being pushed by an invisible force. It fell to the floor with a clang. Molly glanced briefly over her shoulder at the noise.
"Well done!" Ron said, making Victoire beam.
"I can do the plate too, watch!" Dominique kicked her legs in protest against Ron's shin, and he winced.
"Daddy said you aren't supposed to," she said petulantly. Victoire stuck out her tongue.
"You're just jealous because I'm a witch and you aren't."
"I am too a witch!"
"Are not!"
"Are too!"
"Girls," Molly said without turning around. Dominique's face was an alarming shade of red, and Harry worried she might burst into tears (or worse) if this kept up.
"D'you want to go out in the garden? We'll go for a fly if you promise not to tell your dad," Harry said in an attempt to keep the peace. Instantly, the girls' faces morphed from frustration to delight.
Victoire squealed with unrestrained glee. Behind her, a vase shattered.
"Victoire!" Molly cried, whirling round to examine the wreckage.
"I'm sorry, Gran, I didn't mean to!" Victoire said, her big blue eyes making her look the picture of remorse. Molly huffed deeply, pointing her wand at the shards of glass. The pieces flew upwards and reassembled in midair.
"It's alright. Be more careful in future, I don't want you or your sister getting hurt."
"If I'd done that as a kid, Mum would've made sure I could never accidentally do magic again cause she would have killed me," Ron whispered to Harry after Molly had turned her back to them once again. "I can't believe what she lets the girls get away with after all the times she's told me off for every little thing."
"Yeah, but you aren't as cute as they are. Maybe if you were part veela you would have got away with more," Harry suggested. Ron sniggered.
In the garden, Molly fretted over Victoire hovering about a foot off the ground with Harry on one of the Weasleys' old Shooting Stars. He had one arm wrapped around her and one hand holding onto the broom and was easily zooming zigzags through the garden, avoiding gnomes and bushes alike. Victoire screamed with delight at the particularly sharp turns, while Molly tutted worriedly. Dominique sat backwards on Ron's broomstick, clinging to the front of his robes and looking frightened.
"Look, it's alright," Harry heard Ron telling her. "We'll go really slow, yeah? I've got you, I won't let you fall."
"Be careful!" Molly shrieked when Harry tightened his grip on Victoire and rolling them in midair. She laughed gleefully, causing the buds on a nearby rhododendron to sprout into a beautiful flourish of flowers. Harry grinned at this show of unrestrained childish magic.
He took her once more around the garden before landing, taking pity on Molly. Ron had not moved and was hovering stationary with Dominique, who had stopped holding onto him and was now looking around curiously.
"Can we go higher?" she asked, and Ron grinned.
"No, you can't," Molly said before Ron could even open his mouth. "Your father doesn't want you on a broom at all."
"Oh come on, Mum, they're fine. It's a further fall from the kitchen table," Ron said, touching down easily by simply extending his legs. Dominique held onto the broom and slid back against Ron's chest rather than get back onto the ground. She seemed to be over her initial fear of flying.
"Even so," Molly said, brushing Victoire's hair back and looking carefully at her face as if examining her for nonexistent injuries. Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Dominique bound towards Molly, Ron meandering behind her. He stopped in front of Harry and held out his hand.
"I'll take the brooms back. I'm gonna see if I can help Dad with his GameBoy." Harry watched Ron's retreating figure, trying to come up with the best way to broach the topic on his mind without putting his foot in it.
"Er, Molly?" he finally said as they walked towards the house, the girls bounding ahead and shrieking gleefully. Their broomstick rides, however subdued, seemed to have perked them up.
"Yes, dear?" Molly said, glancing at him curiously. He swallowed.
"Could you tell me a bit about midwitches?" At her expression, he continued. "It's only, muggles don't have babies in the same way as witches–muggle women go to hospital, you see–"
"Yes, of course," Molly said, smiling at him warmly. It was the same sort of expression she'd worn the first time they met, when she instructed him how to get to the Hogwarts Express. It made his insides feel funny: tingly and warm with affection.
"What is it that you'd like to know?" she asked.
"Everything, I suppose."
They were still deep in conversation over lukewarm tea when Ron and Arthur came into the kitchen. After clasping Harry on the shoulder in greeting, Arthur bent to kiss his wife on the cheek and Ron sat next to Harry.
"It's working finally, only he hasn't got any games," Ron said in a low voice to Harry, grinning hugely. "Seems he forgot that part. I've told him I'll pick some up next time I'm in London." Arthur was relaying all this to Molly, waving his hands enthusiastically as he spoke.
"You'll never believe this new muggle invention, dear–what's it called, Ron?"
"Worldwide webs. It's loads of invisible webs that connect computers all around the world so they can, I dunno, talk to each other or something. Hermione's parents have got it connected to their house and their office."
"It's like a massive network of patronuses!" Arthur cried delightedly. "Absolutely brilliant!"
"But how does it work?" Molly asked, looking bewildered rather than impressed.
"Eclecticity!"
"Er, electricity, Dad," Ron corrected.
"Oh, right, yes! Say, do you think Emily and David would show me these webs sometime?" Arthur asked.
"Yeah, I'm sure they would. Next time me and Hermione are round for dinner I'll ask them."
"What in Merlin's name is a competure?" Molly asked.
"Computer," Ron corrected. Molly waved him away impatiently.
"Well, it's–it's like a–" Arthur faltered, looking to Ron. "Do you know I haven't ever actually seen one."
"It's a bit like the GameBoy, but bigger. It's got a moving picture too, only it's enchanted so it will do things for you. Bit like the muggle version of a wand, only instead of having it in your hand it's in the picture." Harry pressed his lips together tightly to keep from laughing. While he was certainly no expert in muggle culture these days, he had used a computer and knew about the internet, and the image Ron's description conjured was comically different than any computer Harry had ever seen. He wondered what dinner with the Grangers must be like, with Hermione's parents trying to explain the most basic muggle inventions to a baffled Ron. He knew Arthur was absolutely delighted to have muggles in the family and was practically giddy at the prospect of Ron marrying into a muggle family.
As Arthur exclaimed about computers to his wife, who looked about as interested as Harry had always felt during History of Magic lessons, he took advantage of the distraction and turned towards Ron.
"I've been talking with your mum about midwitches," he said. Ron raised his eyebrows, his expression becoming suddenly serious.
"Yeah?"
"I've got some ideas of where to go from here. We'll start by asking round St. Mungos. Apparently midwitches do special training that's similar to the healer course, so maybe she was still in contact with the midwitch she learned from. Astoria was two years below us at school, so she can't have finished her training very long ago. Perhaps she said something to them. Then we ought to try a pub called The Hangman's Rope. It's near St. Mungos in London and apparently quite a lot of healers frequent it. Even if no one there knows her, they might be able to point us to someone who does. Your mum also said there's a medical supply shop in Diagon but that it hasn't got much stuff a midwitch would use. Still, could be worth taking a look." Ron nodded.
"Mum knew all of that?" he asked.
"Seems she got to know Fleur's midwitch pretty well."
"Wonder if Georgina's had any luck at Gringotts," Ron said. "It might save us the trouble of tracking down everyone who's ever spoken to Astoria Greengrass in the whole bloody country."
Harry didn't say what he was thinking, which was that they were more likely to get useful information out of Daphne Greengrass's young son than Georgina was to get anything from the goblins at Gringotts.
"What else did she tell you?" Ron asked. Harry felt his face warm and he avoided Ron's gaze.
"Oh, just–some different spells and potions they use, what the, er, process is like." It had been mortifying enough both to admit to his mother-in-law how little he knew about wizard childbirth and to listen to her explain it. He certainly didn't want to repeat any of it to Ron, who he doubted would be very eager to hear it. Sensing this, Ron nodded and abandoned this line of questioning.
"Right, got it," he said quickly.
"Let's go back to the office," Harry said. "We can give Georgina an update if she's back, and then we'll set out for St. Mungos."
Hermione was sat at her desk writing a report when Mrs. Rucker came in brandishing a letter.
"This just arrived for you, Madam," she said. Hermione set down her quil and took the scroll from her outstretched hand. The wax seal bore the letter M.
Draco Malfoy's note held only two lines: Had a letter from one of my contacts. I'll be at the ministry at 3 this afternoon. D. Malfoy.
Hermione read through it twice before writing a memo to Harry and Ron.
"Any idea what this is about?" Harry asked without preamble as he walked in ten minutes later. Hermione caught Mrs. Rucker glaring over Harry's shoulder across the hall, and she resisted the urge to laugh.
"None at all. Ron said you didn't have any luck with Daphne Greengrass the other day. Have you found anything else?" Harry collapsed in the chair across from her, looking grumpy. He ran a hand through his hair before answering.
"We spoke to Astoria's patients and even looked in on all the shops we thought she might frequent. So far, nothing," Harry said, sounding frustrated.
"Has she got any work colleagues?" Hermione asked. Harry shrugged.
"No idea. We tried to track down the midwitch who trained her but no one seems to know who it was."
"We better ask Malfoy when he arrives if he knows of anyone. What about friends?" Harry shook his head.
"Seems like she keeps to herself. It's hard to say though, we haven't been able to get anything out of anyone we've interviewed." Hermione tilted her head, humming thoughtfully.
"I wonder if it isn't time for more drastic action," she mused. Harry raised a brow.
"Drastic how?" Hermione didn't answer, so Harry switched tactics.
"What's Selwyn think about all of this?" Hermione sighed.
"I haven't been able to get an answer out of her one way or the other," she said, her voice dropping low. "I'm not sure she has an idea, honestly. She hates to guess, so I imagine she's likely waiting till we've got more information before she gives her two sickles. Besides, the Wizengamot is taking up all her time at the moment, and that's more pressing than a single witch's disappearance and an alleged string of dark magic." Harry sat up straighter and looked at her full on.
"What do you mean 'alleged'? You're the one who's convinced Malfoy's right!" Hermione sighed.
"I'm afraid that he is. I wish he weren't, but–" she broke off, glancing away from Harry. She had that look on her face that she wore when she didn't want to tell him something, like she feared how he might react.
"What is it?" Harry asked. Hermione stared at him for a beat before sliding a stack of parchment across her desk. He glanced down. An inside page of the Daily Prophet lay before him.
"Er," Harry said, eyes scanning across headlines about a shortage of wormwood and celebrations to commemorate the upcoming five year anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts. His gaze fell on an ad for Weasley Wizard Wheezes' newest exploit: the Pocket Polyjuice, a line of products that aid the wearer in changing his appearance. Harry thought these could be helpful for Aurors on the go or those who didn't have a robust store of polyjuice potion, and his mind flicked back to his conversation with Ron a few days ago as they left Daphne Greengrass's estate.
"Did Ron make these?" he asked. Hermione's brow furrowed as she peered at the upside down newspaper. Was Hermione angry that Ron wanted to give up being an Auror to help run a joke shop? That didn't seem likely, but why else would she be showing him this? Hermione was very focused on her career, but she wasn't pretentious about it and nor did she hold Ron to the standards of her own ambition. Harry knew for a fact that she hadn't been keen on Ron being an Auror in the first place because of how dangerous it was. He also knew she'd grown to like the Weasley Wizard Wheezes' products much more than when they'd been in school and even went so far as to admire some of the more complicated magic that went into them. Besides, it had never seemed to bother her before that Ron worked at the joke shop; but Harry also had a hard time predicting Hermione's reactions, so he couldn't be certain.
"Make what?" she asked. "What are you talking about?" Harry stared, feeling as if he was dangerously close to making a fatal mistake that would cause a lot of trouble for both him and Ron.
"What are you talking about?" he parroted back. She gave him a strange look as if questioning his mental state, but thankfully, seemed too preoccupied with what she wanted to show him to comment on his bizarre behavior.
"This," she said, pointing to the bottom of the page. Harry squinted at the tiny aside, reading the words Toddler Missing from East End Home.
"It's another missing baby," Hermione explained unnecessarily. "And it's nearly identical to the last one! The little girl was playing with her mum in their garden, she said she turned her back for all of two minutes to put the dog inside and when she came back, her daughter was nowhere to be found."
"That's… strange," Harry said, lacking a better response. His mind was whirring. Kidnappings were uncommon in the wizarding world; in fact, he didn't remember ever hearing of one before. And now two in as many weeks? It was certainly odd, but Harry wasn't sure why Hermione was so preoccupied with it.
"D'you reckon it's a serial abductor?" he asked. Hermione gave him a withering look, as if that was the stupidest question she had ever heard when Harry knew for a fact he had personally asked her far stupider questions.
"Of course it is. And I'd bet my wand that it's got something to do with all the other dark magic." Harry's brows shot up.
"You're joking, right?" He laughed humorlessly. "What would Death Eaters want with little kids?"
"I don't know," she admitted, turning the paper back around so she could pore over it again. Harry opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted before he could.
Hermione's office door burst open, and Ron stormed in. He was soaked through, his Auror robes spattered with mud and a dark glower on his face.
"What's happened to you?" Hermione asked, startled. His glare deepened, as he pulled off his cloak and hurled it into a saturated heap by the door.
"Nothing, I've just taken my squad out for aerial practice. They're the most pathetic flyers I've ever seen. I hope my life's never at stake and it's up to them to save me on broomstick because I won't have a chance."
"I'm sure they aren't that terrible," Hermione said. She pointed her wand at Ron and siphoned off a majority of the mud. He glanced down.
"Thanks," he said. "Anyways, enough about those pathetic sods, what's happened?"
"Malfoy's on his way in," Hermione said. Ron pulled a face, but said nothing, which Harry thought showed great restraint. But they'd spent a good part of yesterday abusing Malfoy in between trying to come up with new leads, so perhaps it was out of his system. He was sure after their afternoon interview, they'd both have quite a lot of new material.
"What's he coming to tell us about?" Ron asked.
"He didn't say," Hermione answered, offering the note he'd sent. Ron took it, scanning the two sentences quickly before handing it back.
"What a git," Ron said.
"What do you mean? He didn't even say anything!"
"Yeah, exactly. You know he just loves keeping us in suspense. Bastard." Hermione looked torn between the urge to laugh and tell Ron off. Finally, she sighed.
"Get it all out before he gets here so that you can be civil," she said. Ron crossed his arms and glared worse than he had since he came in, looking about as far from civil as one could get.
"Come here and take a look at this," Hermione instructed, sliding the Prophet towards him like she'd done earlier for Harry. Ron's eyebrows shot up as he read.
"Blimey. Another kidnapping? This one's in London though."
"Where was the last one?" Harry asked.
"Cornwall," said Hermione.
"Really? That's where Daphne Greengrass lives. Wonder if there's a connection," Ron said.
"Funny you mention it, I've just been telling Harry that exact suspicion."
"Maybe Daphne Greengrass is behind it, her sister found out, and now she's done her in," Ron suggested dryly, which made Harry laugh. Hermione glared at them, but before she could say anything, Ron spoke again.
"Y'know, I don't think I've ever even heard of kidnapping before this," he said, now sounding thoughtful and serious. "Not one I remember, at least. Most parents have charms on their homes, wards and stuff to keep their kid from wandering off and any unfriendly visitors from getting in."
"So whoever's taken these children had to get past at least basic protective enchantments?" Harry asked. Ron nodded. Suddenly, Hermione gasped, and they turned to look at her.
"I've just remembered," she said quietly, glancing between their faces and the paper in her hands. "When I was visiting my parents last week, they said a baby had gone missing nearby. Kidnappings aren't as unusual in the muggle world so I didn't think anything of it. But it's the same circumstance: the baby had been asleep in the nursery with its grandmother in the other room. I remember because it was so strange for a muggle kidnapping."
Ron and Harry looked grim.
"You think they could be connected? The muggle and the magical disappearances, I mean," Harry asked.
"Maybe," Hermione said. "I don't know."
They stood in tense silence for a few moments, each ruminating on this. Harry couldn't seem to wrap his head around this bizarre chain of events. Who would kidnap multiple children? And why? He thought about Hermione's assurance that it had something to do with dark magic. How could kidnappings and dark magic be connected? Perhaps if the children were pureblood… but no, one was a muggle child. Although, that might have been a completely separate incident. Maybe they were all separate incidents. An ache was beginning to bloom beneath his forehead, his thoughts jumbled and half-formed. None of this made any sense.
"Who's the Auror investigating these disappearances?" Hermione asked finally. Harry and Ron looked to the other, clearly neither knowing the answer. She sighed.
"Well, find out," Hermione said. "See if they've got any leads. But for heaven's sake, don't say why." Annoyed at this, Harry resisted the urge to snap at Hermione that he actually did know how to do his job. He honestly couldn't believe her cheek: she wasn't even an Auror and here she was ordering them about! Never mind that yes, technically Hermione was his superior and oversaw the Auror Department. Still, Harry had been doing just fine without Hermione standing over him to double check his work the past few years. In spite of these thoughts, Harry held his tongue, not wanting to start a row with her that he would inevitably lose. When Hermione wasn't looking, Ron caught his gaze and rolled his eyes, grinning. Harry smirked.
Just then, Mrs. Rucker knocked on the office door.
"Draco Malfoy here to see you, Madam," she said, Malfoy looming behind her. He came inand kicked the door shut. He looked pale and worn out beneath his fine navy robes, as if he'd only just recently gotten over a bout of illness. In spite of his appearance, Malfoy grinned broadly, looking almost deranged.
"I've got a lead."
