Chapter Three
A Dramatic Change in Plans
Harry Apparated onto the front steps of Andromeda Tonks' cheerful home. His eyes automatically wandered, as they always did, to the small, shallow dip where he and Hagrid had once crashed Sirius' old motorbike whilst fleeing Voldemort. The newest addition to the sloping grounds was a scattering of children's toys securely placed in a small, fenced in area. Andromeda didn't deny her grandson much, but she insisted all the chaos be neat and tidy in a confined space. Harry admired her for it. Whenever Teddy stayed with the him for a night, the house always ended up looking as if a battle had been waged.
Although he had felt clueless and overwhelmed by an infant Teddy, now that he was a rambunctious toddler, Harry thoroughly enjoyed his visits. Andromeda had ensured that both Harry and Ginny were able to Apparate within her protective enchantments, and he wanted to see his godson before he left on holiday.
Harry rapped on the door with his knuckles, still feeling awkward just barging in despite Andromeda's repeated assurances that he could do just that. The door was opened by Kreacher, who peered around cautiously. His ancient, wrinkled face split into a wide grin when he saw Harry.
"Master, Harry, come in, come in. Mistress Andromeda of the most noble and ancient House of Black has told Master Harry he didn't have to wait for Kreacher to open the door," the elf said, swinging the door open wide while scolding him.
Harry entered the house as Kreacher bent down and picked up the post on the floor beneath the letter box, a Muggle newspaper resting on top.
"Mistress Andromeda insists on keeping up with events in the Muggle world," Kreacher said, and although he managed to hold his tongue, Harry could hear the disapproval dripping from his tone.
Andromeda's deceased husband Ted had been Muggleborn, and Harry knew Andromeda still kept in touch with his family. Kreacher had come a long way from the days when he would grumble under his breath about blood traitors and Mudbloods besmirching his home, but his prejudice towards Muggles stilled showed on occasion. Harry had sent him to stay with Andromeda after the Battle to help her care for her infant grandson, and the decision helped enormously. Andromeda had help with running the house, and as Teddy grew, he had a ready-made playmate. Harry had barely been able to contain his laughter when he'd come upon Kreacher dressed as the Hogwarts Express with Teddy riding on his back gleefully shouting, "Choo–choo!"
Kreacher led Harry into the sitting room, dropping the mail on a side table and gesturing towards the sofa.
"Sit down, Master Harry. Kreacher will inform Mistress Andromeda you is arrived, and then he'll make some tea."
"Thanks, Kreacher," Harry said absently, sitting on the sofa and picking up the Muggle paper. The front page was devoted to several stories about a postman imprisoned for the murder of a teen-age girl, and an increase of dementia-related deaths in Wales. The story that really caught his attention, however, was about a race car that had set a recent land speed record. The unmoving photo showed a sleek and sporty car that Harry was certain his cousin Dudley was most likely drooling over.
Harry and Dudley had exchanged a few letters since the war, and even met for an occasional pint over the years. Both were very careful to avoid the subject of Dudley's parents, and Harry was just fine keeping it that way. He never intended to see his aunt and uncle again, but he was pleased to have the casual connection with Dudley.
Before he'd read too far into the article, a sound like a rampaging Hippogriff came from the stairway. A moment later, a small blur of purple came streaking into the sitting room shouting, "Unca Hawwyyyyyyyyyyyy!"
Harry grinned, standing to scoop his three-year-old godson into his arms and swinging him around in a circle. "Hey, there, little sorcerer. What do you have to show me today?" he asked.
"I have me to show you, Unca Hawwy," he said, grinning widely. His hair was a bright shade of violet, and that combined with his lopsided grin caused Harry's vision to blur at the edges until he saw Tonks standing there, same hair, same smile. Harry had to shut his eyes tightly to dispel the image. He'd grown so used to these frequent and sudden flashbacks, that sometimes he hardly noticed them. Sometimes they made his chest ache.
This was the latter variety.
"Hello, Harry. It's good to see you. Teddy, what have I told you about running on the stairs?" Andromeda said, narrowing her eyes at her young charge. "Thank Circe he didn't inherit Nymphadora's clumsiness."
She still looked very much like her sister with her dark hair and lidded eyes, particularly when she narrowed them that way, but Harry had known her long enough now that her easy smile and kind spirit no longer allowed her features to startle him.
Harry leaned over and kissed each of her cheeks. "It's good to see you, too. I hope I'm not too early. Ginny is coming right from practice."
"Nonsense. You're welcome here anytime, dear. We'll hold dinner until Ginny arrives, but Kreacher said he'd prepare a pot of tea," she said graciously.
Teddy placed his small hand on Harry's jaw and forcefully moved his face – and his attention – back onto himself.
"Wanna play wif me?" he asked.
"Of course, I do. What d'you want to play?" Harry asked, bouncing the little boy in his arms.
"Twains!" Teddy cried joyfully.
"Why don't you two head up to Teddy's room, and I'll let you know when dinner is ready?" Andromeda said, smiling fondly at her grandson. "I'll have Kreacher bring a cup of tea up to you, Harry."
Teddy owned an elaborate collection of toy wooden trains, and they were by far his favorite toys. They weren't the average Muggle trains, however. The tracks could be placed anywhere throughout the room and they would stay connected at ridiculous angles, and the trains would run smoothly without any guidance involved. He also owned a set of toy army men that Harry had given him. These were the Muggle sort that didn't do anything, but they'd always been Harry's favorite toy of Dudley's when they were very small. He'd managed to nick a few strays with missing or mangled body parts to keep in his cupboard, but playing with Teddy was the first time he'd actually ever used an entire collection.
He'd truly experienced a lot of his childhood firsts through Teddy, and the little boy's open, innocent enthusiasm had allowed Harry to lose some of his instinctive reserve when playing with him. It frequently made him wonder what his own life would've been like if that fateful October night nearly twenty years ago had never happened. He wondered if he would've sat on a floor like this with Sirius making his toys fly around the room like Harry did for Teddy. He was going to be twenty-one in a few weeks' time, the same age his parents were when they'd died. It seemed so surreal to him. Some days, he felt as if he'd aged decades during the war, but others, like now, he felt very young. He wondered what unrealized dreams his parents had left behind. Had they wanted more children, or would they have preferred an only child like James had been? He supposed he'd never know.
Reaching into his pocket, he felt the familiar shape of the small box he'd been hiding from Ginny for months. He hoped to finally give it to her during their holiday. The velvet of the box already felt rather worn from the number of times Harry had run his thumb over it, attempting to plan what he might say. Shaking his thoughts away, Harry used his wand to make several stuffed animals fly around the room, knocking over Teddy's soldiers and making him scream in delight.
They played in Teddy's room, Teddy chatting incessantly, until they heard Andromeda calling them down to dinner. They washed up quickly, splashing each other with water before heading downstairs. Upon entering the dining room, they found Kreacher serving an elaborate feast of roast beef with Yorkshire pudding. Ginny was sitting with Andromeda, a glass of Elderberry wine in her hand, and her smile lit up her whole face when she saw them.
"There are my two favorite troublemakers," she said, beaming.
Harry felt that familiar swoop in his belly when he saw her, but it was Teddy who responded first.
"Aunt Ginny!" he said, running toward her. She pushed out her chair so he could climb up on her lap. "We pwayed twains and soldiers."
Harry sat in the chair beside Ginny and leaned over to kiss her cheek. She smelled clean and fresh, and he knew she must've stopped at home to shower before joining them for dinner.
"Good practice?" he asked, feeling that pang he always did when he thought about her flying all day without him.
"Gwynog was a beast, but it was all right. The way she was shouting, you'd never guess the real season doesn't even start until August," she said, smiling over Teddy's head. Her eyes sparkled at him before Teddy took her face and returned it level with his.
"Teddy, come on over here and sit in your chair so we can eat. Aunt Ginny is hungry after her long practice," Andromeda said encouragingly.
"I want to sit here," he said stubbornly, burrowing into Ginny's front and holding on to her tightly.
"I don't blame you, mate," Harry said cheekily, causing Ginny's eyes to fly open wide, and Andromeda to smirk knowingly. "Why don't you sit in my chair, and I'll sit by your grandmum?"
Teddy agreed happily, and Harry switched out their plates and Teddy's glass of milk with his wine glass.
Ginny immediately grabbed the milk. "Oh, thanks, Harry," she said, taking a big gulp.
Teddy looked at her in amazement, then an indignant expression crossed his little face, his violet hair growing slightly darker. "Hey! That's mine!"
"Oh, did I take yours?" Ginny asked, turning toward him to reveal a large milk mustache on her upper lip.
Teddy burst into giggles, pointing. "I want to do it, too!"
The dinner was spent talking and laughing, and by the end, Teddy's eyes had begun to droop. Harry picked him up and took him to bed before he and Ginny bid Andromeda farewell.
/* /* /* /*
When Harry arrived at work the next morning, he found Owen already organizing a team to go into Knockturn Alley. While Ron wasn't amongst those gathered, his old dorm mate, Neville Longbottom, was there. He waved across the room to Harry, and Harry made his way toward him. Neville had been in the training class behind Harry, but he was also now fully qualified.
"How are you, Neville?" he asked, shaking the other man's hand.
"Doing well, thanks. Looks like we're doing a surprise morning sweep of Knockturn Alley. One of your cases?" Neville asked.
Harry nodded. "Yeah. We learned the Death Eaters encouraged potion testing on Muggles, and some of it might still be happening."
Neville winced. "Every time I think we've made some progress, something like this pops up."
"There'll always be evil in the world. We just have to keep putting it in check," Harry said, clapping him on the back.
"Don't I know it?" Neville replied.
Harry was sometimes surprised by how much Neville had changed over the years. When they'd met at Hogwarts, he'd been a frightened, clumsy, forgetful boy who often ended up doing extra homework when his spells went bad. He'd gradually grown and changed to the fierce leader of Dumbledore's Army during the war, and was now quite a competent Auror. The only trace of that young boy was the notepad he kept in the front pocket of his Auror robes. Neville tended to record things meticulously as his memory was still rather faulty.
"So, d'you know if we're sweeping the whole area, or are we targeting specific shops?" Neville asked curiously.
"If Owen has his way, it'll be a full sweep, but we'll have to see what was authorized. Between you and me, the main focus is anywhere selling potion ingredients," Harry said, keeping his voice very low. The excited murmur in the room should keep their conversation private, but he'd learned long ago that people liked to listen in on his conversations.
Neville pursed his lips. "That pretty much guarantees a full sweep. Most of the shops sell things that can be harder to get elsewhere."
"And how would you know that?" Harry asked, raising his eyebrows.
Neville flushed. "I keep a rather extensive greenhouse at home, and some plants simply thrive better using more unorthodox fertilizers."
Harry's mind flashed to a day long ago when he'd run into Hagrid in Knockturn Alley. As Harry recalled, Hagrid had been looking for something to use on the grounds, but he had the same shifty look on his face as Neville now wore. Who knew Herbology could have so many Dark undertones?
"Owen," Neville said, nodding toward the front of the room.
Owen outlined the plan, putting people into groups and assigning areas to check and what to focus on. Harry was pleased to hear they'd received the authorization to do a full sweep. It couldn't hurt, and maybe they'd turn up other nefarious plots whilst they were there. As the crowd was breaking apart, he heard a scathing voice behind him.
"I can't believe they've pulled us all off important cases for a simple matter of Muggle-baiting."
Harry turned quickly to see the speaker. He should've guessed. It was Michael Corner, who frequently let his disdain for Muggles be known. He'd been in Harry's year at Hogwarts, and also a member of the DA. He'd joined the expedited Auror training with Neville's group. He also happened to have been Ginny's first boyfriend.
"If you have a problem with it, Corner, you can take it up with Robards. He authorized the raid," Harry said coolly. He felt Neville standing behind him, arms crossed but not interrupting.
Michael's eyes went wide when he realized who'd overheard him. "That won't be necessary. I'm aware this administration has an abundant fondness for Muggles."
"And you don't approve?" Harry asked, eyes narrowing.
"As I've said before, I've nothing against Muggles, I simply feel we'd be better off focusing on magical folk and leave the Muggles to sort out themselves."
"That would be fine if magic weren't being used against them. As you say, we're responsible for the magical community – to govern, to remain hidden, and to ensure magic isn't being abused."
"But from what Savage just said, you don't have a Muggle victim, just suspected activity during the war. A lot of magical families suffered during the war, as well, Potter. I think our focus should be on them," Michael said, two high spots of color appearing on each cheek.
"It seems to me, Muggleborns suffered most of all. D'you include them with the magical community, Corner?" Owen, who had made his way through the crowd and sidled up to them, asked.
"Of course, I do," Michael said hotly. "If they're magical, they're magical no matter who their parents are, but once they join our community, they should leave the Muggle world behind. We shouldn't mix."
"Easy for you to say since you wouldn't be expected to give up any of your family," Harry said.
"By the time most leave Hogwarts, they're fully immersed in the magical world, anyway. There would be a lot less need to monitor Muggle-baiting if we just kept separate. I don't notice you spending an inordinate amount of time amongst Muggles, Potter. Weren't you raised in the Muggle world before Hogwarts?"
Harry gritted his teeth. He sometimes forgot how much of his history was public knowledge as he never talked about the Dursleys if he could help it. "Everyone's family situations are different. Why should you get to dictate who has to leave their family? There are loads of people who manage it just fine."
Michael shrugged. "If you say so. You left fairly quick, and isn't Weasley a Pureblood? What's it to you?"
Harry had noticed that Michael tended to drop comments about Ginny into random conversations more and more often. It had begun about the time Ginny had started on the Harpies' first team. "You're well aware she is."
"I'm aware she's considered a blood traitor, but she didn't make a point of dating a Muggleborn, did she? No, she went for the Most Eligible Bachelor in Wizarding Britain," he said, smirking. "Seems neither of you are having much trouble separating at all." He nodded at Neville and Owen before turning his head and moving to catch up with his mates.
Harry's face burned hot. Witch Weekly had bestowed that title upon him the previous week, and he'd been enduring endless ribbing about it. Ginny loved to crow over it, particularly when he'd done something careless like leaving his socks on the floor.
"Ignore him, Harry," Neville said.
Owen put his arm across Harry's chest to stop him following Corner. "Just let him go. You can't legislate people's minds. Prejudices can't be erased simply by telling someone it's wrong. They'll just hide their prejudices deeper from you. Best to let them rant. That way, you know who to keep an eye on."
Harry sighed, feeling disgruntled and irritated. While it was true things were better since the war, and the damn Muggleborn Registration Act was looked upon as a dark stain on their history, there were still so many subtle attitudes like Corner's. The cost of the war had been so high to still be dealing with these things.
"I'll see you around. I'm going to join my partner," Neville said awkwardly.
Harry followed Owen to the Apparition point and appeared moments later at the Leaky Cauldron, keeping his head down to go unrecognized. The plan called for them all to go in waves, so no one would be tipped off by a convergence of Aurors heading towards Knockturn Alley. Harry wasn't certain how well it would work, since the shopkeepers there always seemed keenly aware, and some of Harry's fellow Aurors' scowls and demeanor identified them rather easily.
Owen and Harry were part of the first wave so they could at least get on top of it before their cover was blown. They were dressed in plain black robes and planned to move slowly along the alley until they were at the end, giving those behind them time to filter through before all entering the shops in sync.
A sense of déjà vu washed over Harry as his feet skimmed over the stone steps down into the alley. He'd been twelve the first time he'd entered the dodgy street, and arrived there by a Floo accident. His skin crawled slightly as he remembered the many menacing, speculative looks he'd received and the sensation of fear and dread deep within his belly. He'd been on his own plenty of times before that day – the Dursleys never kept much of a watch on him – but never in an area so strange with no thought as to how to get back to familiar ground.
The alley was as dark and dingy as ever, despite it being a bright, early summer's day. The windows were dirty, displaying various dark objects, and the names of the shops weren't on vibrant display as on the high street. These were more subtle, wooden signs with coarse, unobtrusive lettering. Obviously, the shopkeepers here wanted their customers to be well aware of where they were headed rather than just stumbling in.
Harry scanned the various street vendors, all now watching them with suspicious eyes as they passed. He and Owen pretended to stop and look at various items before continuing their trek. At one point, Harry saw Michael Corner with a few others further behind him in the alley. Harry felt agitated and wished they could just get on with it. The ominous feeling of Knockturn Alley wasn't helping his irritated disposition. Owen, apparently, had had enough of Harry's short, snappy responses.
"What's got your knickers in a twist?" he asked. "Is it Corner?"
"He's a ruddy git."
"Yeah, he always has been, but you don't usually let him get to you. Was it his lack of concern for the Muggles, or that he mentioned the Witch Weekly article?" Owen asked, linking his arm with Harry's and batting his eyes dramatically. "I'm so thrilled to be seen about with you, by the way. I wished I had my hair done."
"Gerroff me!" Harry said, shoving Owen harder than necessary.
Owen gave a deep, rumbling belly laugh, causing some of the vendors to turn their way. Many of them jerked upright, their eyes scanning the abundance of traffic in the area this early morning. Apparently, loud guffaws weren't all that suspicious at this early hour, however. Looking up, Harry realized they were standing outside a tumbledown, rather creepy-looking bar.
As he scanned the area, he could see what George had meant. The alley was much more crowded, and it wasn't just the handful of Aurors now roaming the street. There was a distinct thrumming in the air. Something dark and foreboding, and Harry had the feeling many unseen eyes had been following his progress from the moment he'd arrived.
They'd all been told to stroll around and take a look in the various shops, see if anything stood out as particularly out of place, or at least more disturbing than the rest of the items sold there. Harry and Owen had targeted an apothecary that advertised its availability of harder to get potions supplies.
Once Owen gave the signal, they all began their questioning. The owner of the apothecary was younger than Harry had expected. His steely grey eyes monitored their progress unflinchingly as they approached the till.
"What do you want?" he said in a deep, gravelly voice.
Harry sized him up and made his decision quickly. "We're wondering about a customer of yours, Gwilym Gethin. Has he been in recently?" Harry asked. He'd decided his best approach would be to pretend he already knew Gethin was a customer. The shopkeeper had wary, intelligent eyes; he wasn't going to be tripped up with roundabout questions. Harry needed to be direct.
That sharp gaze swept over both of them, appraisingly. "Haven't seen him. If you find him, tell him he's making enemies by the day."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Owen asked, eyes narrowed.
"He's late. My customers don't appreciate being kept waiting," the wizard replied, turning back to the till.
"What potion is he making for them?" Harry asked.
"He knows what they're expecting."
"Well, if we find him, he's going to be occupied for quite some time. We can get remedies to you if there's some urgency," Harry said, attempting to appear an ally.
The man studied him, and for a moment, Harry didn't think he was going to answer, but then he said, "For a start, he brews the Wolfsbane for several clients. Full moon is less than a week away. There's going to be a lot of trouble if he doesn't get in here soon."
Harry and Owen shared a brief look. It didn't go unnoticed by the shopkeeper, "You can do a search if you want, but you'll find nothing brewing here."
"Meaning you don't brew on-sight, so you must have another location where the potions are brewed?" Harry said sharply.
"Prove it," the wizard said unconcernedly.
"You can rest assured, we intend to do just that," Owen said, pulling Harry back outside.
"What are you doing?" Harry asked, pulling his arm away. He had planned to ask a few more questions.
"Ethan," Owen said, nodding.
Looking in the direction of Owen's nod, he could see Ethan striding down the alley wearing an avid expression as he made a beeline towards them.
"What is he doing here?" Harry asked. Ethan and the other new recruits hadn't been included in the raid.
"Harry, Owen, I've found him," he said, gasping and holding an obvious stitch in his side. Despite it, he was nearly bouncing on the balls of his feet.
Both Harry and Owen stared at him, gaping.
"Found who?" Owen asked warily, being the first to regain his composure.
"Gwilym Gethin," Ethan said proudly.
"Keep your voice down," Harry said, hissing and holding up a hand to stop him until he'd cast a Muffliato Charm around them.
Owen apparently couldn't wrap his head around how their eager young underling had beat them to the information. "How? Where?" Owen asked.
"I went up to the records department at the Ministry. They keep track of St. Mungo's employees. It took me all morning to find his name, but he left an address in Wales as his residence. Here," he said, thrusting a slip of paper with an address scribbled on it.
Owen glanced around the alley. It seemed well in control. The Aurors were still questioning a few shopkeepers, and a few others were being taken back to the Ministry for further questioning.
"Shall we take a look?" Owen asked Harry.
Harry nodded. "I'm going to send a Patronus to Robards so he's in the loop, and he can organize the questioning of this lot from there."
"Can I come?" Ethan asked.
"No!" Harry and Owen said simultaneously. They'd both almost forgotten he was still there.
Ethan's face fell. "Look, I found the address. You said I wasn't ready for a sweep, but this is just checking out a house. We have no idea if he's even there, and I was the one who thought to look through all those files."
He had a point, and both of them knew it. "All right," Owen said, sighing. "But you're to follow instructions to the letter. If I say get out, you just go. Understood?"
Ethan nodded eagerly. "I won't get in the way, sir."
Harry doubted that, but he held his tongue. The three of them Apparated to the address in Wales and found themselves in a wooded clearing. The burnt shell of a building lay blackened on the ground around them. It wasn't smoldering, so the fire had obviously happened some time ago. There was no sign of anyone, and Harry couldn't see another house nearby.
"Spread out and move cautiously," Owen said, perusing the scorched ground. "Ethan, check out the tree line and see if there's any sign of footsteps. Harry, you take the left, I'll go right. Try not to disturb the area too much until we can get an evidence retrieval team out here."
Harry nodded, already moving. There wasn't much left. Only the stone fireplace still stood, blackened and charred on the left side of the area. He could easily identify several stone cauldrons still intact, and the melted remains of some metal ones. Squinting at an area on the ground, he could just make out what he suspected to be bone fragments. At least one that appeared to belong in a leg, anyway. Using his wand, he Levitated the piece slightly from the ground to be certain. Before he could call out or even turn the bone, however, he felt his body become immobilized. A sheer, lighted dome appeared around him, surrounding the entire former structure – he and Owen both trapped within its boundaries.
Only able to move his eyes, he searched frantically for the spell caster. Ethan appeared a moment later, looking frantic.
"There's a whole trail of dead plant life over there," he said, pointing in the direction he'd just come. "I put contamination protocols in place. People from the Ministry should be arriving any moment."
Harry swore beneath his breath. Ethan had followed Ministry procedure involving a potential hazardous crime scene to the letter, and he couldn't fault him for it. Damn it all to hell, though. He knew what that entailed. It meant both he and Owen – and most likely Ethan, too – were on their way to a contained safe house for quarantine, and his holiday plans were going up in flames, just as this building had. The small box in an inner pocket of his Auror robes seemed to be weighing heavily on his immobilized frame.
He was a dead man.
Ginny was going to murder him.
Author's Note: As always, many thanks to my wonderful betas, Sherylyn and Arnel for all their help in beating this fic into submission. Also, thanks to my pre-reader, Sue, for giving me feedback and letting me gauge her reactions.
