Once again, My beta-readers, fredfred and InquisitorCOC, deserve a huge thank you. They helped a lot.

Chapter 12: The Cover Story

Black Lake, Scotland, Britain, July 19th, 2005

Granger recovered quickly, but not quickly enough for the two old men to miss what had happened. Ron saw Dumbledore smile in apparent sympathy - which was probably faked - and Grindelwald's lips twitch a little as Granger took a deep breath.

"Sorry," she said. "Memories."

"I see how you managed to convince people that you were a kidnapping victim."

Granger glared at him. "I was a kidnapping victim."

Ron kept himself from reaching over to touch her hand or shoulder. She wouldn't appreciate it.

"Not for long, though, according to your story," Grindelwald said in a very clinical tone. Had he sounded like that when he had interrogated people for the Abwehr?

"Long enough to be tortured extensively," she spat.

Luna gasped, and Ron winced. He hadn't known that, though he had suspected. Some of the nightmares had been a little too specific.

"Gellert." Dumbledore inclined his head, and Grindelwald leaned back. Was the old man pouting? Was that a hint at who called the shots in that relationship?

Ron focused on Granger. She was trembling and tenser than a bowstring. But she kept staring at Grindelwald, her jaw clenched and her teeth bared. Too stubborn for her own good.

And too gullible to keep such information secret. Ron cleared his throat. "Do you really want to waste an irreplaceable, possibly life-saving resource on satisfying your curiosity?"

Grindelwald's expression told Ron that he did - but it was Dumbledore who replied. "Perish the thought! Although if you have access to any renewable resources, we'd be delighted if you were able to provide a demonstration. Or if you could manufacture a small device."

Granger pressed her lips together. They really should have thought of a good cover story for magic. Well, there was always Clarke - but technology was replicable. Generally. Perhaps... "The resources needed for her advanced technology aren't available in our world."

Granger shot him a look he couldn't read, then nodded. "Yes. I'm focusing on opening a portal to my world since I know how to do that with the resources available. But to recreate most of my world's advanced technology, I would have to know how, first of all, and then have access to resources unique to my home world." She hadn't stumbled over 'advanced technology'. "And, seeing as I barely managed to save Ron's life, I'd be loathe to waste what devices I have left on demonstrations. That I packed for a fight doesn't help, of course - most of what I have left is meant for emergency use in combat."

And there she went and said too much, again. Ron suppressed a sigh.

"And your healing technology?" Grindelwald asked.

"Limited to wounds," she replied.

"Ah." He slowly nodded.

Was the man sick? Ron wondered.

"All we - all of us - need is a portal to your home world, I think," Dumbledore said.

"And hope that your doctors accept what we can offer," Grindelwald added.

"That shouldn't be a problem," Granger said. "If my friends are still fighting, they should be able to grant you access to advanced healing in exchange for material support. And if they won, I'll get you access myself."

"And if they lost?" Grindelwald asked.

She clenched her teeth again. "Then we'll see if the French have a taste for what you can offer. But someone will want this world's luxuries."

"Luxury goods are a quite common start for trade relations, if I remember my history lessons correctly," Dumbledore said.

Was the old man planning to open a trade route through the portal? How would that play with the 'Statute of Secrecy' Granger had mentioned? Probably not too well, Ron thought. Something they couldn't let the two men know or there would be problems.

"I would be interested in hearing more about your home world, Dr Granger," Grindelwald said after the main course - excellent 'schnitzel' with pommes frites - was served. "Nothing that would trigger traumatic memories. Just a basic overview - how advanced is your world? I would prefer not to emulate the Indians selling their land for glass beads."

"It's 'Native Americans'," Granger told him. "And I can assure you that I wouldn't let you be tricked like that."

"That's laudable of you, and your help is appreciated," Grindelwald replied - though he didn't sound particularly grateful, at least in Ron's opinion. "But surely you understand that we'd prefer to make our own informed decisions? As you would in our place, I think."

"Yes, I understand." Granger sounded reluctant. But Ron knew this had been well-played by the old man. "Now, in my home world, it's mainly the elite who have access to such advantages. Unless born into the right family, you have to be extraordinarily talented to join the club, so to speak."

"Like yourself, Dr Granger?" Dumbledore said.

"Yes. My parents were, like the Grangers in this world, dentists."

"I presume that you faced a lot of resentment and jealousy," the old man went on.

"Yes," Granger confirmed in a flat voice.

"Up to a war against you and your peers?"

"Yes. And against everyone who'd stand with us."

"Such as Albus's counterpart," Grindelwald commented, finishing his schnitzel.

"He was our leader," Granger confirmed what Grindelwald would already know.

"And defeated my counterpart in a duel when he was poised to conquer Europe in the 1940s." The old man snorted. "A tall tale, if ever I heard one."

"That's the official story," Ron cut in before Granger could reveal more clues about magic. "Shooting his lover from behind probably wouldn't have made for a good story."

Dumbledore chuckled at that, then sent a wry glance at Grindelwald. "While I like the thought of my counterpart saving his country single-handedly, killing his beloved seems a little too pragmatic."

"I like the thought that my counterpart only lost because of love," Grindelwald replied.

The smile they shared was creepy, in Ron's opinion, though it was also clear that there was more behind the exchange.

"Your counterpart didn't kill Grindelwald. My Grindelwald. He imprisoned him in a prison Grindelwald had built," Granger said.

"Ah." Dumbledore nodded. "That changes things, I believe."

Grindelwald snorted. "My counterpart was kept in his own private prison? That's certainly a better fate than what awaited the leaders of the Reich."

"You make it sound as if there was no trial, Dr Granger," Dumbledore commented.

"I don't know. But I think that if there had been a trial, it would have been both public and would have revealed their personal relationship," Granger replied.

"So much for due process," the old German commented.

"Quite," Dumbledore agreed. Once more, it sounded like hinting at a shared event. "Though I presume that such revelations would have put a crimp in my counterpart's political ambitions."

Ah. That might explain why Dumbledore hadn't been knighted after his service as 'C' twenty years ago. Ron nodded.

"It was revealed after his death to attack him posthumously," Granger said.

"Ah." Dumbledore's smile turned wry again, and he glanced at Grindelwald with another unreadable expression.

"Err." Granger bit her lower lip. "The attack wasn't aimed at the homosexual nature of the relationship, should that be your assumption. It was the fact that the famous Albus Dumbledore had been the lover of one of the most infamous people in the world that was meant to wreck his reputation and demoralise our side."

"Ah." Dumbledore nodded again. "And that only happened after my counterpart's demise, not before. So it didn't impact his political career."

"No, it didn't. For decades, your counterpart was an internationally-famous politician and the headmaster of our most important boarding school. At the same time," Granger said.

Dumbledore looked surprised for a moment, and Grindelwald cackled. "I was a headmaster?"

"And a teacher before that."

The old man slowly inclined his head. "Shaping the future leaders of the country, I presume. And recruiting operatives - like yourself."

"Yes," Granger confirmed.

"I have to admit that I never contemplated that course of action. Although I probably wouldn't have been a very good teacher." But probably a good recruiter, Ron thought.

"I believe I mentioned before that we cannot trust my knowledge about someone's counterpart in order to draw conclusions about them," Granger pointed out with a smug smile.

"Ah, but the temptation to do so remains as strong as ever!" Dumbledore replied. "The ultimate game of 'what if?', so to speak."

"Well, I, for one, am glad I wasn't sentenced to life in Spandau," Grindelwald said. "Hess would have been a very boring cellmate, I think."

"Quite," Dumbledore agreed.

"Were you ever tried?" Luna asked.

"No. Not by the Reich nor by the Allies after the capitulation." Grindelwald smiled with a cold expression. "I was a mere junior officer doing my duty in the Abwehr during the war."

Luna frowned, but before she could push the old spy, Dumbledore stepped in. "And when he was forced to choose between his duty and his love, he couldn't decide."

"I might have managed to make a decision if someone hadn't pushed me out of a window."

"On the first floor."

"Yes."

Both chuckled. Ron glanced at Harry, who hadn't said anything in quite a while. His friend was staring at the two old men with a very guarded expression.

As expected, Harry hadn't been fooled by the 'harmless old men' act the two were putting on for them.

"And did you never use your influence or your access to privileged information to help your business interests?" Luna asked with a frown.

"My dear, that would have been unethical," Dumbledore replied, finishing his dessert - a rather conventional mix of various flavours of ice cream; apparently, Grindelwald wasn't fond of 'fancy desserts'.

"I doubt that you ran the Secret Service with ethics in mind," she retorted.

"Oh, but that was in the interest of our country; ethics are a little more flexible in that case." Dumbledore nodded with a very patronising expression. He found this as amusing as Grindelwald, Ron realised, but was a little less blatant about it.

"And yet you haven't actually denied it," Harry pointed out.

"Habit, Mr Potter," Dumbledore told him. "I have had to neither confirm nor deny any speculation in the press for a long time."

"I'm not the press," Luna said. "I'm just a concerned citizen."

"A very concerned citizen, I'd say," Grindelwald commented.

"Are my questions making you uncomfortable?" She frowned at him.

"I've dealt with such questions for decades - as a weapons manufacturer in Germany, the press is a regular concern."

"It's only fair to answer questions of yours after asking so many ourselves," Dumbledore said - as if they had actually answered any questions, instead of deflecting them.

Then again, they would have realised that Granger was giving evasive answers as well. Which, Ron realised, was probably the reason they were treating Luna like this. A subtle hint.

Black Lake, Scotland, Britain, July 20th, 2005

"We need to think of a cover story for magic," Harry said during the first break of their morning run. "Otherwise, they'll figure it out. Quickly."

Granger was still catching her breath, as was Luna - they had stepped up the pace, to explain the longer breaks they would be taking. Not that Ron expected to fool Dumbledore, but getting sloppy was a bad habit to develop. But Granger managed to reply, if a little choppily: "Easier… said… than… done."

Ron watched her rest while he stretched. Truth to be told, he could use a break as well, if only to be fully ready should someone attack.

"Difficult or not, we have to do it," Harry retorted. "If they realise that it's magic, and not technology that could be copied and controlled, they won't be pleased."

"They'll have to be told when I open the portal," Granger said. "I won't be able to conceal the ritual's nature."

Granger had made it clear that she didn't like the 'Dark Arts', as black magic was called in her world, but that still sounded a little worrying.

"You need to keep magic secret until you can return to your world!" Luna cut in. "If they find out that you need to be born with magic, they'll try to start a breeding program!"

And that was a very disturbing thought. Though Ron had no doubt that Grindelwald would be all for it, and Dumbledore would at least entertain the idea - and probably try to subtly arrange a relationship with one of his agents. Or try to clone her.

Granger seemed to turn slightly green. "That's…"

"Not too far-fetched," Ron cut her off. "Do you think a country wouldn't go to such lengths to secure wizards and witches for themselves?"

"To such lengths, and more!" Luna told her, nodding repeatedly.

Granger sighed, then also nodded. "I guess they would."

"Which is why we need a cover story that will hold up," Harry said, rolling his shoulders. "At least so you can make chit-chat without revealing crucial secrets."

Granger glared at him, but Harry ignored it. "As I already said," she replied through clenched teeth, "it's not easy to cover up magic. It's not the same as advanced technology, no matter what certain fantasy authors claim. You can't just replace a spell with some machine when telling a story."

Ron nodded despite the dig at Clarke. "Using spells instead of machines causes distinct differences in the entire society. Like a war being decided by a duel between the two most powerful wizards."

Granger blinked, then nodded. "Exactly! Most of what I could tell them about Wizarding Britain wouldn't make any sense if magic were a form of technology. And they would realise that very quickly if they haven't already," she added with a gloomy expression.

"No thanks to you telling them too much. You don't have to answer every question," Harry told her.

Granger scowled at him. "If I don't say anything, it's even more obvious!"

"Old men are stuck in their ways," Luna said. "They will have trouble accepting the existence of magic, especially without a demonstration."

Ron glanced at Harry. They certainly had taken some time to accept magic despite a demonstration. His friend shook his head. "Don't count on that. They're former spies, and they've already accepted dimensional travel."

Ron grinned. "We'll make a sci-fi fan out of you yet, Harry."

Harry rolled his eyes as he continued. "But we need to have a cover story." He looked at Ron. "One that will at least seem plausible."

Ron realised that all three were looking at him.

"You're the one most experienced with fantasy and sci-fi books, Ron," Luna told him.

"I'm not a wizard, though. You're a witch," he addressed Granger, "You know how actual magic works."

"Which won't help overly much with hiding it. Without memory-wiping spells, at least," she retorted. "You probably know more about creating a convincing society that uses advanced technology than I do."

"Probably, yes," he admitted. Certainly, actually - but it was probably already hard enough for her to admit relative ignorance on any subject.

"So it's up to you!" Luna declared. "Our fate, the fate of Hermione's world, depends on you!"

"No pressure," Harry commented with a smirk.

Ron glared at him, but his friend's smirk only grew more pronounced. Git.

By the time they were starting their evening run - or late afternoon run: there was another dinner with the two old men scheduled - Ron hadn't yet found a good cover story. Any kind of technological explanation he could think of that would explain magic without revealing that it was magic wouldn't explain the sort of society Granger had already laid out. Or why there hadn't been a revolution or a large-scale civil war.

"An aristocracy?" Granger sounded incredulous.

"Well, not officially. More like a hyper-capitalist society with a very steep class divide between the rich and the poor, where the rich have access to advanced technology and the poor live in squalid slums. And where the best and brightest of the poor get a chance to join the rich, which serves as a pressure valve to keep them from starting a revolution," Ron explained. "And any conflict between the rich is kept 'in the family', so to speak."

"So… like our society? Just without the magic technology?" Luna asked.

"More like every cyberpunk novel, ever," Harry commented.

"Those are basically our world, just with the blinders removed. Cyberpunk is classic social criticism disguised as a fantasy story to make it more palatable to both the masses and the shadow conspiracy," Luna retorted.

Granger looked a little lost. Ron smiled at her. "I can tell you which are the best novels to read from the genre. So you know what you should be talking about."

The way she seemed torn between surprise and annoyance at the fact that she might have to read 'such diversions', as she had called them, made her look very cute.

"...so, your civil war was not an open war, but fought in the shadows?" Dumbledore rubbed his beard. "A struggle for dominance amongst the country's leadership, with all means short of the military being used?" He probably was very familiar with that sort of conflict.

"More or less," Granger replied. "It was mostly covert actions on both sides. Death squads and strike teams. You had to hide since if you were discovered, you were usually dead."

"That should have kept the overall death toll low, though." The old man nodded. "If all conflicts I had to meddle with had been so contained… I almost envy my counterpart. A lot of conflicts were… messy."

Granger frowned, but, fortunately, didn't reveal too much as she replied: "There was still some collateral damage, and some of the hired guns had some disgusting habits more suited to the era of the Landsknechte."

Her dessert was slowly melting, Ron noticed - between answering the two old men's questions, she had barely eaten half of her ice cream. But at least she hadn't let slip more crucial information, and it seemed as if their cover story was holding up so far.

"Ah." Grindelwald nodded. "That's quite typical for mercenaries. No discipline. Remember the Congo?" he asked Dumbledore, who chuckled at the question.

"Were you involved in the coup?" Luna asked.

"I couldn't possibly comment," Dumbledore replied.

"Ah." It was clear that Luna saw that as confirmation. "And is that your opinion of your own mercenaries?"

"We do not employ mercenaries," Dumbledore told her. "Though you might have a mistaken impression that we do due to the fact that many former soldiers tend to work as security guards or bodyguards."

"They have a rather proactive view of 'guarding', if I recall correctly," Luna retorted.

"If you're facing terrorists and pirates, you won't be able to do your job with a club and a taser," Grindelwald said. "And we prefer employees who take the initiative if needed."

Luna wrinkled her nose. "That's scant consolation to the 'collateral damage' they cause."

"Sometimes, such tragic incidents happen despite the best precautions," Dumbledore replied. "I don't doubt that Dr Granger has had similar experiences."

The old man was getting better at changing the subject back to Granger's world, but Ron knew Luna was too stubborn to stop and would continue her 'interrogation' at the next opportunity - as she had done for the entire meal.

"I wasn't part of the teams that went out and attacked our enemies," Granger said.

"But you did fight. Several times."

"Yes. But I didn't attack civilians," she retorted.

"Not intentionally, at least."

Granger glared at him with her lips pressed together but didn't deny the implied accusation.

"Besides," Grindelwald spoke up again, "unless you plan to abandon Dr Granger and Miss Lovegood, you'll be quitting the police and entering the private security sector as well, won't you?"

"I think after surviving those shootings, we could easily get a few months of leave to recover from our ordeal," Harry said.

"Faking combat shock?" Grindelwald didn't bother to hide his sneer. "You expect your superiors to fall for such a transparent ploy?"

Bones and Scrimgeour would have seen through it, but both of them were dead. Who knew who'd be put in charge of CI5 now? None of the remaining superintendents would have made a good impression.

"And what would Officer Moody think about that?" Dumbledore asked. "Not to mention the effect it would have on your future prospects. And people suffering from PTSD are rarely allowed to carry weapons."

Ron clenched his teeth. The old man was correct. Using such a loophole wouldn't work out well for them. He forced himself to shrug. "We're still hiding with our charge, so that's not an immediate concern."

"I don't expect that situation to last much longer," Dumbledore said. "As the investigation uncovers more of Mr Yaxley's past, it will soon reach a point where you'll have to be officially cleared - although you will have to testify to settle the matter, I believe. As will you, Dr Granger."

Ron wasn't worried about that himself - he and Harry had had to testify several times in the past. But Granger… if she was as uncooperative as she had been with them, it might result in a problem.

"I think a good, discreet solicitor would greatly facilitate the process," Dumbledore suggested - of course, he would be aware of Granger's past interrogations. He had probably read her entire file already. "I'll cover their fee, of course."

"A lawyer?" Granger seemed surprised. "Could they be trusted?"

"Oh, you won't have to tell them the truth." Dumbledore smiled widely. "And they usually know not to ask too many questions."

"Who do you have in mind?"

"The unfortunately named, but quite skilled, Cornelius Fudge."

"What? Him?" Granger gasped, then wildly shook her head.

Near Ipswich, Suffolk, Britain, July 22nd, 2005

"Well, Fudge can't be an incompetent lawyer if he can afford this sort of vacation home," Ron commented, studying the small manor as their driver, one of Dumbledore's employees, drove the limousine towards the parking area. He couldn't see any signs of an ambush or trap. Neither did Harry, or Ron's friend would have said something.

"He could have inherited the house," Granger replied.

"He didn't. We checked," Harry said. Fudge wasn't one of the best solicitors, but certainly one of the most discreet.

"Or he could be corrupt." Granger sniffed. "Selling out his clients for the right price."

"I don't think Dumbledore would have referred you to Fudge if he were that corrupt," Luna said, straightening the summer dress she wore. "He's an evil corporate tycoon, but he's not naive or stupid."

"Well, it's just as you said: You can't judge people based on the actions of their counterparts," Ron remarked.

The glare Granger sent him was very impressive. "I agreed to meet Fudge," she said, "didn't I?"

"You did," Ron agreed. "After a heated argument, though."

"I merely voiced my doubts," she replied.

Ron suppressed a chuckle at that blatant understatement. Harry wasn't as successful - or didn't bother.

"You voiced them very vigorously and passionately," Luna said, nodding.

Granger huffed in response, shook her head, then walked towards the manor's door a little faster than before, forcing them to catch up. Not that it took Ron much of an effort. Nor did he mind - he was starting to feel a little exposed out in the open, especially as the sun was setting.

The door opened a few seconds after Granger had rung the bell, revealing a slightly corpulent middle-aged man with a receding hairline. "Good evening, Dr Granger! Officer Potter. Officer Weasley. Miss..." he blinked.

"Lovegood. Luna Lovegood," Luna told him.

"Ah. Good evening, Miss Lovegood. I'm Cornelius Fudge. Pleased to meet you all! Please come in!"

The entrance hall was decorated with a few too many paintings and a few too many antiques. Trying too hard, Dad would call it. Sirius would make a comment about the 'nouveau riche'. Still, what it fell short of in style it certainly made up for in impressing upon visitors that Fudge had money. Of course, the kind of people he probably wanted to impress wouldn't be impressed at all by such a display. But they weren't here to judge the man's interior decorator.

"Please join me in the salon," Fudge said, gesturing towards the door to the side, next to a landscape painting.

The 'salon' sported too many stuffed animal heads. They sat down on a couch below an elephant and a rhinoceros staring at each other.

"Please serve yourself," Fudge told them, pointing at the low table where several bottles and two bowls with crackers stood. "Unfortunately, due to the discretion this meeting requires, I had to send the staff away for the evening."

Which meant they would be aware there was something important and secret occurring. Not the safest way to handle this, Ron thought. But Dumbledore was vouching for the man.

"Thank you," Granger said - she wasn't even looking at the refreshments, Ron noticed. Luna, though, was already happily munching on one of everything. Sometimes, she was far too trusting.

"Do you know why we're meeting with you?" Granger asked.

"Well, even if I hadn't been told by my very good friend Albus, I would have deduced the reason for your visit by now - you're famous, after all. Most of you." Fudge flashed pearly-white teeth.

"Of course. As you've deduced, I need a solicitor for my upcoming interview with the police." Granger managed to say without losing her polite smile.

"And the gentlemen and Miss Lovegood?" Fudge asked.

"We'll be fine," Harry told him, "and Luna's not involved."

"Well, not in the criminal case," Luna said. "I'd like to think I'm involved in the lives of my friends."

"Quite. If you change your mind, my partner is an excellent solicitor and would be happy to assist you in your interviews." Fudge widely smiled at them. "Just in case - one can never go wrong with competent help, after all, and any money spent on keeping oneself free of legal entanglement is worth spending, wouldn't you agree?"

Ron kept a polite smile on his face even though he'd never let Fudge or one of the man's partners represent him in an interrogation. A former Chief Superintendent who had switched sides and become a solicitor after a scandal? His colleagues would assume that he was guilty as sin with that sort of solicitor.

Which, he realised, might also be the case for Granger. Might - she wasn't under investigation, after all. But to show up all lawyered up with Fudge? That would leave an unfavourable impression. And Dumbledore would have known that.

"To business then," Fudge said, putting his glass down. "I'm afraid that I need some privacy for my talk with Dr Granger. Procedure, you understand - it would be unethical to discuss anything pertaining to the case with two persons of interest in the same case present. So, feel free to avail yourself of the rest of the refreshments while my client and I confer in my office."

Ron nodded. "Of course. Although one of us will have to wait in front of your office. Procedure, you know."

"Albus mentioned something like that," Fudge replied, apparently unfazed by the dig at his former career. "Please follow me, then."

At least the man seemed to be a competent lawyer.

CI5 Headquarters, Westminster, London, July 25th, 2005

Dawlish was leaning against the wall, glaring at them as they approached the waiting area for their interviews. A number of their colleagues had done the same since they had stepped into the building, but he was one of the few doing it openly, Ron noticed.

"So you finally stopped hiding." Dawlish didn't bother to conceal his sneer, either.

"Yes," Harry replied. "We would have resurfaced sooner, but we had to wait until you lot figured out that you had a traitor in your midst - wait, it wasn't you who figured that out. You had to get help."

"No thanks to you," Dawlish retorted.

"You had all the clues," Ron told him. "Bones and Scrimgeour couldn't have been killed without inside information. And who benefited the most from their deaths?"

"Really? You want to tell me that Yaxley had them murdered to get promoted? He wasn't that dumb." Dawlish shook his head. "And you have a lot of nerve to talk like that - you were present at both murders, and vanished afterwards."

"Because we realised that there was a traitor," Harry said.

"And we were almost killed," Ron added.

Dawlish scoffed. "So you say." He glanced at Granger, who was talking with Fudge behind them. "You going to hide behind him as well?"

Dawlish knew as well as they did that Fudge couldn't represent all of them. This was just another dig. Ron shook his head anyway. "We've got nothing to hide," he lied.

The other officer shook his head and walked away without another word.

Perhaps quitting CI5 was a good idea for other reasons as well.

"Why are we being interviewed here?" Granger asked after catching up to them. "I thought the entire department was under suspicion."

"Not officially," Ron told her. Officially, the various other organisations were only providing assistance to CI5.

"But anyone in CI5 will be seen with suspicion for some time," Harry added.

"Or derision for not spotting the traitor."

"Well-deserved derision!"

Ron whirled around with a sinking feeling in his gut. Moody was standing in the door to one of the interrogation rooms, glaring at them. And he had gotten the drop on them.

"We fucked up," their old instructor said. "Rufus, Amelia, you two, myself."

"How could you have detected Yaxley's treachery?" Granger asked.

Moody narrowed his good eye at her. "Dr Granger."

She didn't flinch - she was even smiling, a little at least. "Yes. And you are…?"

"Alastor Moody. But you knew that already." The older man turned to glare at Ron. "Been telling stories, have we?"

"Not many," Ron defended himself. Granger knew Moody because she had known his counterpart. Who had, apparently, lost more in the line of duty than an eye.

"Just enough to recognise you," Granger added.

Ron glared at her, and she flinched. Good. This wasn't her Moody.

"Did they tell you how I lost my eye?" Moody's hand rose to touch his eyepatch.

"No."

Ron tensed. The other man wouldn't… He would. With a practised motion, Moody pulled his patch off, revealing the scars and empty socket beneath.

But Granger didn't shriek or gasp. She probably had seen worse in her world. Had definitely seen worse, Ron corrected himself.

Moody sniffed. "They warned you."

Granger tilted her head in response. "Constant vigilance?"

That earned her a chuckle. "You're a tough one, aren't you? Or a cold one." Moody nodded at the room behind him. "Get in. We've got a lot of questions."

"As long as you refrain from any attempt to scare or surprise my client," Fudge spoke up. "Dr Granger didn't take the risk of revealing herself while the main suspect in the attacks on her is still at large to be abused by the police."

"Fudge." Moody bared his teeth.

"Moody." If the solicitor was nervous, then he hid it well, Ron thought.

After a moment, Moody snorted again and repeated his invitation: "Let's get started, then."

"...did you recognise any of the attackers in the park?"

"No." Ron refrained from adding 'as I told you before' - he knew that wouldn't help. Quite the contrary, actually - he had been in the place of the detective from the Met himself.

"Were you wounded during the fight in the park?"

"I was knocked down and briefly knocked out," he answered. Lying and claiming he hadn't been hit would be foolish - they had to have footage showing him and Granger retreating.

"Knocked down? Were you shot?"

"I wore a bullet-proof vest, which saved my life." That was a blatant lie. His first in the interview. "I ditched it afterwards - the trauma plates were broken. Some of the shards cut my skin."

"That must have been a large-calibre hit," the detective commented.

"It certainly felt like one," Ron agreed.

"Was the bullet stuck in the vest?"

Ah. "I don't think so - we would have noticed. But it might have fallen out during our retreat - we weren't exactly paying attention to anything other than the attackers." He was talking too much. But it was better than to answer with single words. Ron knew how to make a testimony sound plausible. But the detective did as well.

"How did you escape from the park?"

"We took our car."

"Did you expect an attack in the park?"

"Yes. We were trained to always expect the worst."

"Did you attempt to warn Commissioner Bones?"

He winced. "We assumed she was aware of the threat herself."

"Ah."

Ron pressed his lips together. Getting angry at the man was pointless. The detective hadn't been there. And didn't understand the situation.

"When did you become aware that you were under attack?"

Ron didn't sigh, even though he felt like it. He should be the one asking the questions, not the one answering. "When Harry warned me about a car approaching us."

"What did you do in response to the warning?"

"Not much. Before I could do anything, the Commissioner got shot and…"

Half an hour later, the interview was finally over, and Ron could leave and return to the waiting room. Harry wasn't done yet - Ron could see the room Harry had entered was still occupied - but Granger and Fudge were waiting. Both were reading - The Times in Fudge's case, a thick physics textbook in hers.

Ron let himself fall into the seat next to Granger's with a theatrical sigh.

Granger slowly looked up from her book and glanced at him. "There you are. What took you so long?"

"Unlike you, I didn't have a solicitor with me to tell the interviewer to shut up."

"By choice, as I recall," Fudge cut in. "The offer stood."

"Where's Harry?" Granger asked.

"He's going to be a while longer," Ron explained. "They'll have a lot more questions for him since he shot half a dozen of them - unlike me."

He saw her tense. Her jaw muscles slightly twitched. "You were shot," she said. Ron heard the unsaid 'and you almost died'.

"The vest stopped it," he replied with a smile. "As you know."

She sniffed in return. Not quite a huff.

"Did everything go well?" Fudge asked.

Ron shrugged. "I'd say so." He didn't know Brown, but Ron hadn't given the other officer any cause to suspect him - and who would even suspect magic?

"Good, good," Fudge replied. "Once Mr Potter is done, this whole affair should be settled."

"For us," Granger said. "There's still the matter of Yaxley being at large."

Or dead, Ron thought.

"That shouldn't be a source of concern for you," Fudge told her. "He's alone and on the run. He's probably halfway to Brazil by now, though I dare say he'd receive a far different welcome there than a famous train robber."

"I certainly hope so," Granger replied.

Ron's money was still on Yaxley having been killed by his backers. But he couldn't mention that here or he'd run the risk of another interview - or interrogation. "So do I," he said instead, wishing they had stopped by a bookshop on the way to headquarters - he hadn't checked for new novels in a while. At least he had a battered copy of 'A Civil Campaign' to pass the time. Bujold never failed to entertain.

After half an hour spent reading in silence, Harry finally showed up. He didn't look relieved - he looked angry.

"Those idiots!"

He also sounded angry.

"What happened?" Granger asked.

"Do you need a solicitor?" Fudge added, looking eager.

"What? No. They didn't openly accuse me," Harry snarled. "But the comparisons between my shooting and the shots the sniper took to murder Scrimgeour and Bones…" He shook his head. "Someone at least thinks I could have killed them."

Well, technically, Harry could have done it - he was an excellent marksman. But he wouldn't have done it. And he had an alibi - although it rested on Ron and Granger's testimony. "You know how investigations by other departments are," Ron told his friend.

"Yes. But want to bet some idiots like Dawlish believe it as well?"

That was a sucker bet. Ron shook his head.

"I don't think too many will be sad to see us go," Harry went on.

Ron remembered the glances they'd received coming in and nodded. Some would be envious, some would blame them for CI5 getting investigated and humiliated - and some would blame them for Bones and Scrimgeour's deaths. "Colin will be sad, though," he said.

That didn't do much to console Harry. And Granger… Ron frowned as he glanced at her. She wasn't looking at anyone or anything.

"You're being accused of murder? Of Diggory's murder?" She couldn't have heard correctly. Harry had tried to save the other boy.

"They're 'investigating'," Harry told her, shrugging. "Dumbledore said they're trying to frame me so he'll have to expend political capital and open himself to accusations of corruption when he intervenes. They've been dragging up Sirius's disappearance from Hogwarts last year."

"Percy said the same thing," Ron added. "Malfoy's spending gold like crazy to sway the Wizengamot. And he pretty much owns Fudge."

"But Diggory?" She couldn't believe it.

"As long as they can point at me, they won't have to explain who killed him," Harry said.

"Those…" She pressed her lips together, clenching her teeth to keep from cursing the Ministry. How could they do this to Harry? Her friend was… She blinked. "You're taking this quite well…" she trailed off, not wanting to insult him by criticising his temper.

Harry chuckled, but without any humour. "Dumbledore warned me about this. Kept me up to date during the holidays."

"Oh. So… it's being handled?"

He inclined his head. "He's got a plan. If all goes well, it'll put a crimp into Malfoy's scheming and expose his allies."

Ron nodded. "And he'll get leverage on Fudge."

That sounded promising. But Harry was the one under investigation. For murder! "And if it doesn't go well?"

He grimaced. "Well… then Dumbledore will have to step in and prove their accusations about him right."

"Probably end up in an open war," Ron added, looking grim.

So that was why they were in Grimmauld Place instead of The Burrow. "What can we do?" she asked.

"Nothing," Harry told her. "It's out of our hands until the DMLE decides to put me on trial or drop the investigation."

She really didn't like hearing that. She hated being unable to do anything. "I'll study wizarding law, then," she announced. "Just in case."

Her friends knew her too well to point out that she wouldn't be allowed to speak in his defence. She knew it as well. But she couldn't just wait without doing anything.