Chapter Two

The Office

Harry woke up so warm, so sleepy and so comfortable, it took a few moments for his foggy brain to recognize the sound of his alarm. He was spooned around Ginny, who was still sound asleep, and stray wisps of her hair were splayed across his face. Gently, he pulled up slightly in order to grab his wand from the bedside table and silence the alarm. He brushed Ginny's hair from his face and snuggled back where he'd begun.

Although he'd never been all that comfortable with physical touch, now he couldn't imagine waking up any other way. It astounded him how quickly he'd grown accustomed – and actually looked forward – to having her there beside him. On the few occasions he'd been kept away with an assignment, or she'd been traveling with the Harpies, he'd felt bereft. He could never quite settle for the night and found himself reaching for her, only to find her spot cold and empty. It wasn't just the sex – although that was brilliant – it was simply having her there. For the first time in his life, he felt he truly belonged somewhere, and there was no way he wanted to give that up ever again.

He wasn't certain if he'd just closed his eyes or actually dozed off, but it seemed like only a moment later when he heard her calling his name.

"Harry! Wake up, Harry. Aren't you supposed to have a meeting with your boss this morning?" she asked, still sounding more asleep than awake herself.

Harry grunted and pulled her closer, burying his nose into the back of her neck and pressing more firmly to her backside. "Five more minutes – wish our holiday started today."

The idea of being away without any demands, any interruptions – any brothers! – sounded like pure bliss to Harry. Perhaps they could spend the entire time cuddled just like this. There would be no one else there to complain if they spent their entire holiday in bed.

Ginny wiggled against him and giggled. "I can make you much later if you want, but I don't see how that's going to help us get away any sooner."

That woke Harry up fully.

"Damn it, Weasley," he grunted, forcing himself away from her and sitting up. "That's not playing fair."

"All's fair in love and Quidditch," she said in a singsong voice while snuggling back into her pillow. The Harpies were on their summer pre-season schedule, so she wouldn't have to be to their training facility until later in the day.

Still grumbling, Harry made his way to the bathroom to have his shower. The cold water helped to wake him up, and he realized it was later than he expected. Giving Ginny a quick kiss on the head and foregoing breakfast, he hurried out the door.

He arrived at the Ministry, running late despite not having gone to the pub with George and Ron the previous evening. Both of their doors had been firmly shut when he passed this morning, but that wasn't unusual since neither had to be up as early as he. He wondered how their evening went and felt rather regretful that he hadn't joined them at the pub. Getting together with Oliver always meant a good time. He hurried from the Apparition point, and jabbed the lift button repeatedly. Why were they always so slow when he was in a hurry?

He swore as he waited, watching the door impatiently and causing a couple of older witches walking past to frown at him disapprovingly. The lift door finally opened, and he quickly moved inside, again jabbing the button for his floor. He wanted to grab a quick word with Owen before his meeting with Gawain Robards, the department head, to get his open cases in order before going on holiday.

Owen Savage had been Harry's partner since even before he'd become a fully qualified Auror. When he'd first been assigned a partner during his training, he'd had the unlucky draw of John Dawlish. That partnership had been an unmitigated disaster. Completely annoyed by all the recruits from the start, Dawlish had resented Harry's fame and refused to listen to any of his observations. After Owen's rookie had quit the program, he took on Harry as a partner instead of Dawlish, and the both of them had been happier for it. Harry and Owen got on well, the senior Auror was someone he had learned a lot from – not the least of which was a string of new swear words. Owen rarely spoke a sentence without some sort of vulgarity.

At last the lift reached his floor, and he nearly collided with Percy Weasley as he leapt out. Percy frantically grabbed at a stack of parchment he was holding.

"Do be careful there, Harry," Percy said, scowling. "I've been working on these reports for days."

"Sorry, Percy," Harry said, maneuvering around him and trying to hide a smirk. Despite a war and several different Ministers, Percy's work habits hadn't changed much.

When Harry finally reached his cubicle, and despite running late, he was still there before Owen, whose desk remained conspicuously empty. Harry glanced at the clock. He had fifteen minutes until he was supposed to meet with Robards. He'd have to leave Owen a note that they needed to talk when he was finished. As it so happened, however, Owen arrived before Harry had even put ink on his quill.

"Morning, lad," Owen said, dropping some parchment on his desk and beginning to walk away once again.

"Morning. I need to talk to you for a mo' – before I meet with Robards, preferably," Harry said, quickly intercepting him. Owen was constantly like a whir of motion, and catching up with him usually involved actually standing in his way.

"Right. I'm going to grab a bloody cup of coffee first. I'll meet you in the interrogation room. Want one?" Owen asked over his shoulder as he hurried away.

"Yes, thanks," Harry said absently.

The Auror department had several conference rooms they used to discuss various cases in private, but Owen always preferred to use one of the interrogation rooms. He thought it was more intimidating to have people meet him there. Harry knew Owen way too well by now to be the slightest bit intimated by him. Instead, he detected a trace of Mad-Eye Moody's "constant vigilance" vibe from his partner, and he wondered if that was something that simply came with age or if it was more part of the training some of those older Aurors had gone through.

Owen joined Harry a moment later, handing him a cup and unceremoniously dropping into one of the chairs. "So, what d'you know?" Owen asked.

This was Owen's standard greeting, and Harry was always amazed at how often people would spill things that Owen had no idea about simply because they assumed that he already knew. Harry took a sip of the coffee – black, the way Harry preferred it. Ron always added too much sugar for Harry's taste, but he found he enjoyed the strong flavor of the coffee the way Owen took it.

"George Weasley mentioned that he's seen a lot of activity going in and out of Knockturn Alley again. No one he recognized, but he said it looked rather dodgy," Harry said without preamble.

Owen looked up wearily. "Think it's time for another raid?" he asked. "They at least get things under a semblance of control."

Harry nodded. "That's what I thought. I'm heading into a meeting with Robards about my cases. Want me to bring it up?"

"I'll go in with you. That way, if he agrees, I'll get things rolling while you finish up. I'd rather do it while your head is clear and not after you've spent four days shagging your balls off," Owen said.

Harry ignored him.

"I'm going to grab the file of the results of our last raid, and I'll meet you there," Owen said, already out the door.

Harry walked in the other direction toward Director Robards' office. Robards had been a good choice for the Head job after Voldemort's fall. His keen eyes missed nothing, yet he let his people do their work without micro-managing them. Whilst he didn't tolerate mistakes well, he was willing to try a different approach if tried and true methods weren't working. Harry hadn't had a lot of contact with him on anything but rounding up stray Death Eaters, but on those few occasions, he'd been impressed.

He'd almost made it to the office when he spotted Hermione's bushy head storming down the corridor toward him with a determined stride. He was momentarily swept back in time to various instances at Hogwarts or during the Horcrux hunt when he'd seen that same walk. It usually meant he'd done something that she didn't approve of. Back then, it would've put him on guard, but now, after all he'd been through, he was merely amused.

"'Lo Hermione," he said lazily, not bothering to slow his stride.

"I need to talk to you. You left this morning before I'd had the chance," she said, stopping in front of him and halting his progress in much the same way he'd done to Owen.

"I have an early meeting."

"I left a note on your desk yesterday, but you didn't stop by," she said, disapproval dripping from her tone.

"I had a Quidditch match," he said. "I'll swing by your desk after my meeting with Robards."

She frowned, obviously unhappy with his answer. "We need to discuss my report on house-elf rights. I could really use your support on this, and I've been unable to get any representatives willing to go on record."

Harry sighed. Unlike Ron and Harry, Hermione had returned to Hogwarts with Ginny to complete her final year of schooling. After leaving, she'd considered joining the Department of Magical Law, but after realizing she needed more work experience and her desire to make a difference in the Magical world, she'd instead taken a job with the Department for the Registration and Control of Magical Creatures. Harry thought she was a great addition to that department, and she'd already made a few well-needed changes in the way wizards dealt with magical beings and creatures.

Her house-elf fixation, however, had never abated. She was campaigning for a law she'd drafted giving them their freedom, but she was getting a lot of pushback from various members within the Ministry. As a war hero, she garnered a lot of respect and deference because of her status, but she wanted Harry to back her idea, feeling a united front would push it through.

However, Harry had never been invested in S.P.E.W., and after speaking at length with Kreacher about it, he had no intention of signing on to Hermione's report unless she was willing to make some concessions.

"Hermione, I told you there had to be some actual house-elf representation on your committee before you can pass any laws that pertain to them," he said patiently.

"That's part of the problem. They're so accustomed to their slavery, they won't speak up for themselves, so we need to do it for them."

"They don't see it as slavery."

"Of course, it's slavery. The fact they don't realize it makes it obvious they need our help. I don't know why you're dragging your feet on this," she huffed.

"I'm not dragging my feet, but I see it differently. Didn't you listen to what Kreacher said?"

"Kreacher is as much a victim of their oppression as any of them. He doesn't see how this would benefit him. I would think after all Dobby did for us–"

"Don't you dare bring Dobby into this," Harry said, feeling the first bubble of real anger since the discussion had begun. "Dobby wanted freedom, most house-elves don't. Hagrid told you back in fourth year that there were oddities in every race, and he wants nothing to do with this law. He had the respect of the Centaurs long ago because of the care and respect he shows to all magical creatures, so I think his opinion should hold some weight."

"Once the report is finished and he sees how beneficial it will be, he'll understand what we're trying to do," Hermione said fervently.

"I don't have time for this right now, Hermione. I'll come see you after my meeting," he said, stepping around her.

"This is important," she snapped.

"So is my meeting, and I can't imagine if you had a meeting with your boss, and I wanted a word, that you'd be jumping to accommodate me, either."

Hermione didn't appear to have a response to that, so she dispelled a huff of breath, and said, "Fine. I'll meet you when you're finished."

He didn't answer and stopped in front of the door to Robards' office. He took a deep breath, trying to center himself. Hermione still had the ability to exasperate him. She meant well, he knew she did, but she sometimes forgot that they weren't in school anymore. Harry had actually been at his job a year longer than she had, and he was quite good at it. He'd concede that he didn't always put in a lot of effort back at school, and she'd often assisted him in his classes. Never in Defense Against the Dark Arts, however. That had always been his forte, and he found that since his job focused on exactly what had interested him, he excelled here, as he'd done in that class at school.

He didn't need Hermione's help, and had actually learned new magic that she didn't even know he knew. She still saw him in another era: – a school era, before the war, before Voldemort… just… before.

Harry was no longer that boy.

He hoped that she'd eventually see that although he wanted her friendship, he didn't need her constantly looking over his shoulder. She hadn't caught the hint, however, so he reckoned he'd have to put his foot down eventually. He didn't want to hurt her, since she'd been faithful and loyal to him for so long. She'd stood by him throughout the entire Horcrux hunt, and even left her beloved education for him. He wouldn't soon forget that, but he wasn't going to let her talk to him like some sort of underling in their shared place of work.

He'd talked to Kreacher about her house-elf legislation, and Kreacher had said outright that house-elves would never agree to what she was proposing. It was insulting. What did they care about wizard gold? Their own economy was based on happiness with their job. The happier a house-elf was, the more powerful they became. Their status among their own society depended on their self-worth. It was why Grimmauld Place had become so dirty and derelict whilst Kreacher was left there alone. He'd had no one to serve, no pride to fill his account, and his magic had suffered.

Harry wanted some laws ensuring house-elves were treated with kindness and respect, but not to unilaterally force freedom on them without some actual house-elves on the committee making these decisions on what was actually beneficial to them. How was that showing respect by deciding for them?

Harry had tried to explain this to Hermione, but she'd brushed off his concerns without considering she might be the one in the wrong. Harry shook his head to clear it. Hermione and the house-elves could all wait until after his holiday, and before he could do that, he had to meet with Robards.

Rapping on the door, Harry pushed it open at the beckoning call. Robards was speaking to someone through the Floo, but he gestured Harry to take a seat. The office was sparsely decorated and the only picture on the wall was one that showed Robards himself shaking hands with Minister Shacklebolt.

Robards pulled his head out of the fireplace and flecked some soot off the shoulders of his scarlet robes. A stately wizard on the latter end of middle age with salt-and-pepper hair and piercing, dark eyes, Robards radiated authority.

"Potter, good to see you," he said cordially, sitting at his desk.

Before Harry had time to respond, the door opened again and Owen joined them, nodding toward Robards before taking the empty chair next to Harry.

"Savage, I wasn't aware you were attending this meeting," Robards said, a hint of rebuke in his voice.

"Sorry, sir, but Potter and I suspect the illicit activity in Knockturn Alley is on the rise again. We'd like to organize another sweep. The last one yielded some successful results. I have the statistics here," Owen said, sliding his folder across Robards' desk.

"What illicit activity?" Robards asked, picking up the folder.

"Unconfirmed, sir. We have a report of a lot of suspect activity in the area again. As you know, we've been unsuccessful in extinguishing the black-market activity there."

Robards shook his head. "I need something more specific."

A heavy silence fell upon the office as both Harry and Owen simply stared unflinchingly at him.

"Who submitted the report of new activity?" Robards asked.

"Anonymous," Harry said quickly, not wanting to drag George's name into it if he didn't have to.

"I can't authorize another raid on an anonymous tip that something might be happening somewhere. For all we know, it's competitors trying to upend a rival business. Bring me something solid, and we'll discuss it. In the meantime, I have something I want you both to look into before Potter leaves on holiday," Robards said.

Harry's stomach dropped.

"Something new, sir?" he asked, envisioning his holiday plans going up in smoke.

"I don't think it'll amount to much, but St. Mungo's has asked us to look into a potential missing wizard."

"Potentially missing, sir?" Harry asked.

"It's unconfirmed, and apparently the bloke can be rather unreliable, but they've asked us to look into it. You can see a Xander Peck in the potions lab on-site," Robards said.

Owen nodded. "Will do, sir – and I'll let you know if I find anything more solid on the Knockturn Alley situation."

Robards nodded resignedly. "I'm certain you will. If that's all, I'd like a briefing on Potter's other cases before you go to St. Mungo's."

Owen bobbed his head and glanced over at Harry. "Come find me when you're finished."

Harry thought that once again, Hermione wasn't going to be happy with him.

/* /* /* /*

After Harry finished outlining all his open cases to Robards, he went in search of Owen. He found him sitting at Harry's own desk with Harry's underling, Ethan Zeelus. Harry nearly groaned. Much as he, Harry, had been Owen's trainee, Ethan had been assigned to Harry from the last class of recruits.

Ethan was a couple years younger than Harry, and his parents had pulled him out of Hogwarts during Umbridge's reign. He didn't remember ever meeting Ethan, but he reminded him uncomfortably of Colin Creevey. Over-eager, and a bit star-struck by Harry's fame, he made Harry feel distinctly uncomfortable. Owen, naturally, found it hilarious and used any excuse he could find to bring Ethan along with them.

"There you are, Harry. About bloody time. I thought it would be good experience for Ethan to join us," Owen said once he spotted Harry. His eyes were sparkling mischievously.

Ethan spun around. "Hi, Harry! Are you ready to go or do we need a debriefing first?" Ethan asked, beaming.

Harry took a deep breath. It was going to be a long day. He glared at Owen. "Did you come up with anything else we could use to convince Robards to check out Knockturn Alley?"

Owen shook his head, grinning with delight. "Nope, but it won't be long before something else happens there. I've put the word out that we're looking."

"What's going on in Knockturn Alley now?" Ethan asked, looking ready to sprint into action.

"Nothing, according to Robards," Harry said irritably. It rankled him that even though they all knew trouble usually started there, they couldn't do anything about it without solid proof of a specific danger.

"Put it out of your head for now. This way, it can't get in the way of your shagging holiday," Owen said, smirking.

"Are you taking a holiday, Harry? Where are you going? You know, my parents have a place in the south of France. We stayed there during the war. If I asked them, I'm certain they'd love to lend it to you," Ethan said.

Harry gaped. Ethan's open, earnest expression and curly blond hair reminded him so forcefully of Colin, that he had to look away. He found it very difficult to stay irritated by Ethan's fervor when all it ever did was make Harry wish he'd been less short with Colin.

"Er, thanks, Ethan, but we already have plans," he said, running his hand through the hair on the back of his neck. He turned to Owen, hoping to get the conversation back onto work. "Does St. Mungo's know we're coming?"

Owen shook his head. "I think we should just turn up, see if anyone looks startled by our presence." Owen didn't seem to realize that his mere personality startled a lot of people.

"All right, then. Shall we go?" Harry asked.

"Hermione Granger is looking for you. She was sitting here at your desk before we arrived," Owen said.

"I'll see her when we get back from St. Mungo's," Harry said tightly, not looking forward to another inevitable lecture.

The three of them took the lift to the Apparition point, and appeared in the lobby of St. Mungo's moments later. The potions laboratory was located on the lower level of the hospital and not accessible to the public. Owen flashed his Auror badge at the Welcome Witch as they walked past. Harry wasn't even certain she noticed, as her mouth had dropped open when she'd noticed Harry. Even three years after the fact, the wizarding world was still infatuated with him.

He wished they'd stop.

The corridor was lit with that same, eerie green light that illuminated the rest of the hospital, but in the windowless lower level, it gave their skin an odd glow. The lab was at the end of the corridor, and Harry could see a number of workers wearing what looked like fishbowls on their heads and working over their cauldrons behind a heavy glass wall. He recognized the Bubble-Head Charm, and for a moment was transported to the lake back at Hogwarts and seeing Cedric using one to rescue Cho from the merpeople…

Ethan automatically moved to enter through an opening in the glass, but Harry raised his arm and blocked him by pressing on his chest. Ethan looked at him questioningly.

"There are enchantments to keep any poisons escaping. Wait for someone to come out," he said, and noticed Owen glance at him with an odd expression.

Before Harry could ask about it, one of the workers came into the corridor, removing his Bubble-Head Charm as he reached them.

"This is a restricted area," he began pompously, clearly irritated by their presence.

"We're from the Ministry," Owen said gruffly, once again flashing his badge. "We'd like to speak to Xander Peck."

The wizard in front of them straightened up – not an impressive feat since he was on the shorter side – and said, "I'm Xander Peck, Head Potions Master for St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries." He was a weedy sort, with thinning hair surrounding a large bald spot and a very thin mustache. He blatantly took pride in his title.

"Owen Savage, Harry Potter, Ethan Zeelus from the Auror Division. We were told to see you about a missing wizard," Owen said, nodding toward each of them in turn. "What can you tell me about him, and how long has he been missing?"

Xander frowned. "Yes, Gwilym Gethin. He's been with us for ages, but over the past few years has worked remotely. Gwilym has always been rather flighty, but it's unlike him to just disappear for this long without contact. He was working on several important remedies that need to be used in a timely manner, and I've run out of ideas on how to reach him. The Floo network won't connect, and owls return with unopened letters."

Xander appeared more annoyed than concerned, Harry noted. "When did contact stop?"

"Oh, I don't know. A couple months ago, I suppose. As I said, Gwilym has always been rather flighty, more so in the past few years, and he wasn't always easy to contact, but he always delivered his potions on time."

"What do you mean by flighty?" Owen asked.

Ethan hurriedly scribbled in a notepad he'd pulled from an inner pocket of his robes.

Xander shrugged. "Gwilym is a very good Potioneer, but he tends to fixate more on his own projects than what he's assigned."

"His own projects?" Harry asked.

"He was afflicted with a very bad case of Spattergroit as a youth. It left him horribly scarred. In between his assignments for the hospital, Gwilym was researching a potion that could alleviate the scarring. He's worked at it for years, and its hard to blame him considering the devastating effect the disease had on his own life. He could help loads of people if successful, so… we tended to let him research when it was slower here."

"What happened to make him work remotely?" Harry asked, quickly going over everything Xander hadn't said.

The Potions Master shifted from foot to foot and straightened his collar, looking distinctly uncomfortable. "Well… you see… during the war, when the Ministry was being run by Death Eaters… the rules became very lax. They began pressuring us to experiment on more and more questionable potions, and their testing methods were extremely unethical." Xander's color had risen steadily throughout his stammering speech. By the time he'd finished, he'd looked as if he'd applied a very poor sunburn charm.

"Who did they make you test things on? Each other?" Harry asked sharply. From the corner of his eye, he noticed Ethan's eyes widening.

"What? No! They needed us to brew all sorts of heinous potions, plus all the standard remedies needed for a hospital to run," he gasped, shuddering.

"So, who were you testing on?" Harry repeated.

Xander's mouth twisted, and he looked as if he was in pain. "Muggles," he whispered.

"And you did it for them?" Harry asked, feeling his own color rising with his temper.

Xander again straightened and appeared to grow before their eyes. His voice was quiet but impassioned, "Mr. Potter, if we'd refused, we would've been killed. Our responsibility is to the patients in this hospital. What would've happened to all of them? We tried to slow them down while doing the least amount of damage possible under horrendous circumstances."

Harry looked mutinous, but Owen interrupted, "All right, all right. War is bloody hell. How does this relate to Mr. Gethin?"

If possible, Xander looked even more uncomfortable. "Gwilym felt he'd made significant progress on his own remedy during this time. He was most aggrieved after you defeated You-Know-Who and Minister Shacklebolt once again banned all Muggle testing."

"Bloody right, he did," Harry said, fuming.

"But… Spattergroit doesn't affect Muggles. What good would testing on them do for him?" Owen asked, his brow furrowed.

"I don't know exactly, but he'd made some modifications. When I informed him that he'd have to strictly adhere to Ministry guidelines, he decided to work remotely."

"So, he continued with this practice, then?" Owen asked.

"I didn't say that. His work here was always up to standard, but he no longer worked on any of his side projects in this lab."

"Side projects?" Harry asked swiftly.

Xander's eyes shifted to the floor. "He often did side work to fund his research."

Harry only had a very loose hold on his temper, and he gritted his teeth to ask, "And where did this side work come from?"

"I wouldn't know that," Xander said, still not meeting Harry's eyes.

"I bet I do. Did Mr. Gethim visit Knockturn Alley frequently?" he asked.

Xander let out a breath through his teeth. "Look, I'm not trying to get him in any trouble, and I really don't think he was involved in anything nefarious. He hated the things the Death Eaters asked us to brew as much as we all did, but this Spattergroit remedy was his passion, his life's work. He might've bent some rules to see it come to fruition. He hasn't been here in months, and we're short on supplies on some of the potions he was brewing for us. We need to find him."

"Where was his last known location?" Owen asked, keeping a wary eye on Harry's loosely held temper.

"I'm really not certain. As I said, he moved around a lot," Xander replied.

"Thank you, Mr. Peck. We'll be in touch," Owen said, shepherding Harry and Ethan along.

"Mr. Potter," Xander called after them, "you really did a great thing for more people than you know when you rid us all from You-Know-Who's terror."

"Call him Voldemort," Harry said, snarling. "He's not coming back."

Once they were out of sight of Xander Peck, Owen put a restraining hand on Harry's arm. "Take a breath, lad."

Harry turned to him, furious. "They weren't just testing on Muggles, the Death Eaters were looking for Potions that could kill them."

Ethan, wide-eyed and very pale, watched the interaction between the two senior Aurors as if it was a sporting event.

"I know they were, but as Minister Shacklebolt has told us on numerous occasions, rebuilding takes much longer than destruction. Our job now is to try and locate this Gethin character and ensure he isn't still messing with Muggles or anyone else. And, we did get some good news here." Owen said, a broad grin stretching across his scarred face.

"What's that?" Harry asked, surprised by the smug delight on his partner's face.

"We now have the evidence we needed to sweep Knockturn Alley."