Published 31st of October, 2020
North Sea, Azkaban
23:00
Everything was as always. The roar of waves crashing on the coast, the howl of the wind, the darkness and the shape of the fortress lit by the pale moonlight. As well as long, dark figures in ragged robes floating in the air.
But either Harry had forgotten how scary this place was, or he was more scared than before, because as soon as he Apparated on the wet rock, he shivered.
Clutching the twisted Regalium in his hand, he focused with all his strength on the memory of becoming an Auror and conjured his Patronus. The Stag walked around him, rubbed against him and Harry plunged his hand into the scintillate light.
"Dad, you'll have to help me today." The Stag seemed to understand him, because it bowed its head and it looked as if it had poked him slightly with its horns.
Without waiting, they walked towards the narrow crack that looked like black spot against the almost black wall. Following the Patronus, Harry made his way to what the Aurors between them called Guardroom.
Harry counted five dementors floated several yards high. They were quite far from him, but despite the heat radiating from the Patronus, Harry could already feel the sadness enveloping him.
He placed the Regalium on the stone table and as one of the dementors reached for it, he held his breath.
And suddenly everything changed.
As soon as the creature touched the twisted piece of wood, it shook so strong that even shreds of its hanging robes moved. There was a sudden whistle that instantly increased and turned into a terrible whiz that tore Harry's ears, stormed deep into his brain and Harry suddenly felt his skull tear open in a second. Screaming he squeezed his eyes shut, clutched his head tightly and staggered against the wall.
The Dementor seemed to be waiting for it - it rushed towards him, but at the same time the Stag leapt towards the creature, its shape blurred into one luminous arrow and they collided violently.
The bang in the locked room almost crushed Harry's chest as the dementor exploded into thousands of pieces. The ground and walls quaked as the mass of tissue and the blast crashed against them and everything plunged into deep blackness.
Holding his breath, Harry looked around hesitantly, but saw nothing. The glow of Patronus was gone, its warmth was gone and from fetid darkness a breath came, followed by others.
They were coming from all sides.
All the hairs on the back of Harry's neck stood on end.
„Expecto Patronum!" He shouted, but only a shred of gray mist emerged from his wand. "Expecto Patronum! Expecto ... !"
An even greater stench surrounded him and suddenly a shred of robe ran over his shoulder.
Harry lunged in the opposite direction and bumped into something damp and mushy that grabbed him and dragged him greedily toward it.
"Lacarnum Inflamare ! He screamed. "Flagrate !"
A flame erupted from the end of the wand, illuminating the gray hood just above his shoulder, lichen-shaped fingers wrapped around his palm and a horrible rotted stain torn by a ragged, cracked membrane in front of his face.
„CONFRINGO! CONFRINGO !" The boy waved his wand desperately and his hand plunged into the fleshy mass, but the spell did not work on the dementor. It was getting closer! There is only one thing he could do. "ASCENDIO !"
The membrane brushed his forehead and nose as the force of the spell jerked him up and out of the dementor's grip. For a fraction of a second he hovered in the air, then fell to the ground, hurting his arms, legs and face.
The creatures moved towards him immediately.
"Flagrate! Incendio !"
A fiery lasso burst out of his wand and flitted at them, followed by a pillar of fire and one of the dementor's robes caught fire. A light sizzle was drowned out by the piercing whistle, the flame went out, but suddenly all dementors backed away.
Harry propped himself up on his elbow, wiped the blood from his eyes and looked at the row of creatures, contempt in his eyes. They were perfectly visible in the eerie orange glow and drifted in the air in front of him. As if they were waiting for something...
Probably for my orders.
Harry breathed a sigh of relief, sat up, and then suddenly his lungs filled with crippling stench from behind. In sudden understanding he jerked his head to the side and in the same second a slimy hand closed around his fingers and his wand as the other grabbed him across his chest and pulled him back.
Cold, terror and despair consumed him all and in a fit of desperation Harry squeezed his wand, threw his whole body forward, drew the dementor with him and shouted "Defodio!"
The spell had still resonated when a big part of ceiling somewhere nearby broke with almighty bang, shattered in all directions and buried them with debris. Harry curled up as he could and gritted his teeth as chunks of rock choked at all exposed parts of the body. The dementor on him loosened his grip and froze and Harry had a feeling as if he can hear soft splashes as rock fragments clung to his rotten robes and body. And they they continue to fall and fall…
The pain in his hands, shoulders and the back of his head was so strong that it dampen even the piercing feeling of icy terror and sadness. And with the rest of his senses Harry realized that this was his last chance. He recalled how he got engaged to Ginny and waved his wand.
„EXPECTO PATRONUM !"
His thumb bent unnaturally back, excruciating pain pierced his entire arm and at the same time the dementor grabbed his face in slimy hands, yanked it toward itself and drew violently towards him. Harry's neck crunched and he saw a scabby hood suddenly flooded with a pale blue glow.
DAD!
The dementor pushed the boy aside and threw himself at the giant Prongs, who attacked him.
"STATIS PATRONUM!" Harry managed to shout a fraction of a second before Patronus reached the creature and stuck it on its horns.
The dementor exploded with a bang, but another burst in from behind.
"Dad, please ..." Harry moaned.
But the Prongs has not disappeared. He turned and lunged at the creature that backed away sharply, all the way to the wall. Right next to it a gray swirl of rotting debris appeared, which blended together to form a thin figure in ragged robes.
But both dementors stayed where they were.
The Stag was crazy. It stepped forward, towards the creatures, its horns threateningly turned, then it backed away and Harry plunged into its warmth, lightness and sense of security. Then again the Stag stepped forward, constantly looking around, ready to attack anyone who would come close to the boy even by an inch.
Harry had never seen his Patronus in such a state - the glow that radiated from it was almost blinding, just as the heat almost burned and the peace and confidence were so strong, that all the walls whirl in front of his eyes with sudden relief.
The Dementors must have felt the same, but the Power must have repelled them. All long silhouettes froze by the walls and were perfectly visible in the bloody glow of the fire burning in the center.
As soon as Harry thought that it would be useful to herd them together, the Stag jerked his head and indicated the space in front of it. And slowly, one by one, the dementors moved in that direction.
Finally. I won. WE WON, DAD.
But his visit wasn't over yet. He had to make them submit to his will absolutely.
Trembling more and more all over his body, he reached with his left hand for the cracked and empty Regalium lying next to him and, slowly rising to his feet, threw it at the dementors.
"Take it. You pieces of shit!" He barked in a choked voice.
One of the dementors caught it because the wood didn't fall to the ground.
Harry took a step towards them, strained his chin up and wiped the blood dripping from his mouth.
"You know what was in it. You know what to do."
Some part of his shaky mind told him there was no point in talking to the Dementors, but he had to get it out. The rest of fear and a mounting rage that was starting to bubble inside him.
The creatures were motionless, facing him, so he waited.
There was a hollow silence that began to thicken, swell more and more, until he felt it with his whole body. It was tangible. The silence began to press on from all sides, crush his stomach, chest, eyes and vibrate somewhere inside him, more and more, stronger, harder, violently... Something in him howled and he felt that he would explode in one more second...! And...
And suddenly everything stopped. It calmed down. It was over.
Harry exhaled and held on to the wall.
One of the dementors stepped forward maybe a yard, raised his arm slowly and the boy saw four long, spread fingers. Like the four days he wanted to ... HE ORDERED them to postpone Snape's execution.
„Exactly. Pieces of filth" he hissed through his tight, swollen and sore lips.
He waited for each of the dementors to move outside. In a way, they were submitting to him this way, but at the moment he didn't mean any demonstration of power - he just couldn't keep on his feet. He took a last look at the half-cracked flat stone, the orange glow on the walls and suddenly felt himself faint.
He only remembered that The Stag brushed him with its warmth and he managed to gather the last of his strength to get out. Just not to the right. Go left.
He plunged his hand into the Patronus light, smiled with difficulty and whispered "Thank you, Dad." And thinking of home he spun on his heel.
Ministry of Magic,
Auror's Headquarters,
After 8 in the morning
The morning arrived far too early. Paul wanted it and didn't want it at the same time. But he had no choice.
He got out of bed, quickly got ready and Flooed to work.
The news from the Clinic had already spread in the press and when he entered the Headquarters, Marcus, Andrew, Rich and Peter were talking about it, sipping coffee. There was anger, intrigue and a hint of fear in their voices, as if their instincts were telling them that something might affect them as well.
Paul joined them for a moment, but quickly pretended to be overwhelmed by the news and sat down at the desk. Soon after Klaudia arrived. She refused to participate in the discussion and immediately hid in her cubicle. A moment later he heard the clink of the door opening and ...
„Oh shit!"
"Merlin, Harry, what happened to you ?!"
"Mate... what's...?!"
"Shit, sit down quickly! What's wrong with you?"
Paul jumped in his chair. He got sick ? Really ?! But after talking to the guys, he wasn't ready yet to role-play in front of Harry Potter, so he bowed his head and listened.
"Nothing special. Yesterday I got into a fight with Muggles. And, damn, I couldn't use magic, so... you can guess…" Potter's voice sounded weak, but also somehow ... strange.
"Have you tried healing spells?"
"Sure! If I hadn't tried, today I would have come in pieces."
Paul relaxed, but not quite. Muggle fight? There was something disturbing about this. It had never happened to Potter before and now does it? It could, but ... something was bothering him.
At the same time something told him that he might be exaggerating. It can happen SOMETIMES. To anyone.
Harry greeted Claudia and went to his cubicle. Although he probably didn't see his hair from behind the stall, he normally would always walk around the entire office to greet everybody. And today not.
He can't because he's beaten or is he doing it on purpose? Or is he just pretending?
How would you behave? If he didn't come to say hi, you should go to him.
He gathered himself for a moment longer and finally got up and walked over to Harry and Rich. Until now, he didn't even realize their cubicle was so close to his ...
Harry Potter was indeed in terribly state. There were two red stripes on his temple and a trace of a badly healed cut, his lips were swollen and his hands were full of larger and smaller fresh scars. No sign of bruises. He healed them so well and at the same time botched the cuts? The smaller ones will disappear by themselves, but the marks on his temples will stay ...
"Hi Harry" he smiled and shook his hand. "I heard you had a fight. What happened?"
Harry Potter looked him in the eyes, then at his outstretched hand and made some strange gesture.
"Hello Paul. I won't ... you know. It hurts a bit." He grimaced.
"Ah! Yeah. Sure!" Paul quickly put his hand into his pocket. "So what happened?"
"Oh… nothing. I mean… There were some Muggles walking down the street and… they came to me and... you know."
"They attacked you for no reason ?!" He feigned horror.
"Maybe they were drunk."
"Didn't you feel it?"
"A little. Not really" Potter replied after a moment.
"They didn't break you anything? Jaws, bones?" Paul glanced at his face, looking for any signs of hits. "You don't have any bruises, but you still have some cuts…"
"What, are you conducting a hearing or what?" Rich interrupted him, clearly angry. "Bruises are easier to heal than cuts, you know that yourself. Mate, you'd better go to the Infirmary, let them heal you properly. Bloody band of Muggles! You can have scars from real wizarding duels, but not from fighting with drunken muggles!"
Harry Potter looked down at his shoes and nodded. And Paul felt his hair stand on end.
„Rich is right, go fix it."
"And hurry up" they heard Claudia's voice. The girl came over and stood next to Paul, who turned to face her. „I heard that Head of Healers from St. Mungo's called for help, so Kath will probably go there too. If she hasn't gone already. There it is a real nightmare.."
Paul forced himself to look only at her, though he felt something twisting his neck the other way.
„Poor guys" Rich muttered.
"Ah, yes" Paul gasped and he winced at his changed voice. He could only hope it sounded depressed. And, not hearing Potter, he left as quickly as possible.
In fact - he ran away.
Shit, shit, shit! HOW can you get ready for something like this?! How can you play convincingly ?!
He was an Auror, but no training had prepared him to pretend when he was GUILTY!
.,.,.
Rich looked at Paul for a while and then squeezed softly Harry's shoulder.
"Harry ... are you okay?" He lowered his voice. „How are you? Generally speaking?"
The boy nodded and smiled wryly.
"I'm fine."
"This has nothing to do with Ginny, I hope...?"
Harry was surprised like never before.
"You don't think Ginny could bruise me like that ?!" "
No, but ... that somebody. Else" Rich added.
Harry suddenly recalled yesterday's excuse and got what his partner was talking about.
"No. Really, Rich. And you're right, I'll go to the Infirmary."
He took his cloak and left the Headquarters as quickly as possible, but he did not go to the Infirmary. It could ... it HAD TO wait.
In fact, it was Ginny who healed him yesterday. He himself could not. He didn't even know how he had come home. He had collapsed on the door and the last thing he remembered was Kreacher's terrified face.
He went to Level One, the Human Resources Department, looked serious again and after saying a general "good morning!" he walked over to Genvieve, the elderly witch who sat at the front desk.
"Harry, what ..." she began to say, but he stopped her.
„Please. I have no time. I need to get in touch with Gawain urgently" he said softly and emphatically added. "Now. Immediately."
„As far as I know, Mr. Robards is on holidqys..."
"I know, that's why I come here."
"You can't talk to..."
"NO. Nobody else is an option" Harry cut in irritated voice. "I need him here and now."
The witch looked him in the eyes for a moment and apparently she saw everything he felt in that moment, because she stood up with a sigh, rummaged in a book and returned with a quill and piece of parchment.
"Here's his address" she handed him a note. "If anything happen, you knew where he lived. Or you found out from someone. You didn't get anything from here."
Harry nodded and squeezed her hand. He wanted to kiss her!
"You don't even know how much thank you!"
The woman hugged him back. "I don't know what's going on, but ... I know you can always be trusted. In add, you're an Auror. Who can be more trusted than the Aurors?"
Harry gritted his teeth, nodded and left quickly.
Who can be trusted more than the Aurors... Better not to trust anymore! Not the bloody, filthy... shits! Bastards!
He rushed to the Atrium to go outside through the toilets and apparate to Gawain. He had to tell him everything as soon as possible and get his permission to arrest Paul and Roger.
Edinburgh, Scotland
Rayleigh Manor
At the same time
In the large dining room at the Rayleigh manor there was the soft clatter of silver cutlery, the clanking sound of cups being put on saucers and the faint clattering of platters and plates. The servants had already brought everything for the breakfast and were now waiting in the corridor.
Adam Rayleigh, sipping tea and milk from a porcelain cup, was looking at the forest outside the window. Anna, his wife, was eating half a tiny slice of bread with jam and Alex had finished breakfast and was now waiting for her parents to finish, too, so she could speak. One of the Rayleighs' golden rules was not to talk around the table during the meal.
When Anna wiped the corner of her mouth with her white napkin, Alex rose from the table, adjusted the slightly protruding hem of her robe and reached for her wand.
„Mother, father, it's time for me."
Adam, as usual, didn't reply, just nodded slightly and Anna scowled a little.
„You haven't eaten much today. That's not good."
„I'm not hungry. Besides, I'm in a hurry."
„That's even worse."
Alex suppressed a grimace and moved a chair to the table.
"I will come to the Laboratory today" said Adam.
Alex paused reluctantly at the table.
"I can assure you everything is fine" she replied a little dryly.
"Perhaps, but such occasional visits help keep the staff in check."
The young woman nodded, said "Have a nice day" to which she got no answer and left quickly. A few seconds later the click of her heels on the marble floor died as well.
"Do you really think you should go there?" Anna asked, pointing her wand to a small golden bell and it rang softly.
Adam curled his mustache and looked at the two summoned servants.
"It won't hurt. You know very well that the Laboratory must be in perfect order."
"Alex seems to be manage it very well."
They both got up from the table and walked to the porch, all covered with flowers and Anna summoned an airy scarf and wrapped it around her shoulders. Adam instinctively moved the two vases exactly to the center of the tables, cast a heating spell and sat down on the rocking chair.
"After she was denied membership of the Potion Makers Club a few years ago just because she is a woman and we lost a few contracts when she took over the company, I have the feeling that her confidence has suffered a lot."
"You think we lost them because clients didn't want to work with the woman?"
Adam reached for the Prophet and shrugged.
"Perhaps, Anna. Now, if you please..." He indicated the newspaper.
The woman nodded, so Adam sat back more comfortably and unfolded a tight roll. He straightened up almost immediately, reached for his glasses in his pocket and, without taking his eyes off the newspaper, slipped them over his nose.
The flashy title on the front page was a magnet for eyesight. Underneath was a moving picture of a crowded room.
.,.
A mysterious disease kills wizards. The Clinic overcrowded. Healers helpless.
.,.
Adam's eyelid twitched hard, so he turned sideways to his wife and cocked his head. And he read on.
St. Mungo's
Head of Healers' Office
At the same time
The Head of Healer's tiny office was just bursting at the seams. The Healers on duty and the superiors of all wards stood or sat by the walls; a few of them were arguing in an undertone, but most of them stared blankly at the very center of the worn carpet, having neither the strength nor the desire to talk. In the dim light cast by the two shinning cristal bubbles their faces looked like stretched flat pale masks in which someone had cut holes for the eyes and mouth.
Above the desk was a portrait of Dilys Drewent, looking at them with obvious concern.
The click of the door was surprisingly loud, so everyone looked in the direction of Carpenter, who strode in with bunch of emergency room papers and sat down behind his desk.
"Over fifty patients with these symptoms have reported to us so far" he said heavily. "Mathias, go on."
Mathias nodded grimly.
"Apart from that boy yesterday, three people have already died. And I think that very soon more will die. This disease just dissolve their tissues from inside. This causes hemorrhages and, as a result, death. And I won't talk about pain. All the spells, potions and salves we have don't help. Nothing, goddamn it. I don't know how we can heal them. I have no more ideas." He looked around helplessly and rubbed his eyes hard. "I have all my staff at the moment. Since yesterday morning, everyone has just stayed and are still on their feet. Besides, Healers from other wards are helping and thank you very much for that. But all these people are not going to take that long."
He paused for a moment, as if he needed to summon strength for a further speech, so Benjamin Fox from Artefact Accidents, sitting against the wall, raised his hand.
„Let's try to get here all the second and third year HMSM students."
"Good idea" said Paula Smith, the Healer on duty for the Women's Ward. "But students can only help, in no case can you leave them alone. Mathias, send yesterday morning shift home immediately, let them sleep for a few hours. So that they can come back here tonight to free people from the evening shift."
"Let's all do it, in all Wards" added Liliatte of Spell Damage. "Let's establish a schedule who helps and when."
Carpenter wrote the ideas down on a piece of parchment and looked at Alette Briggs, the chief drug store, sitting just outside the entrance.
"Al, how are we with potions?"
„We need Pain Relief Potion, Blood Replenishment, Healing, Wiggenweld and Dreamless Sleep Potions. And Calming Draught. Almost all of them are used in other wards. Just before arriving, I checked the quantities on each floor and in the warehouse. If we assume that we are not moving what we have in the Wards, there will be no painkiller and Healing potion for tonight."
„I guess you've already placed orders?" One of the men from under the wall asked.
„It went yesterday to all potion makers as very urgent. By tomorrow morning they should brew them and send them to us."
"So we have evening and night without potions ahead of us" said Mathias. "No way. If we don't give them a strong dose, they will howl and writhe in pain. Nobody can stand it. And I'm also talking about us."
„Are you all on calming draught?" Paula asked hesitantly.
"No" said Mathias. "Everyone took it yesterday, but you get numb with it, so some... the stronger try to endure without it."
"Shit."
In the fallen silence one could almost hear the thoughts of everyone present. And the fact that everyone avoided the gaze of others was a perfect testimony that everyone must have been thinking of the same thing.
"Sergius, I'm afraid the time has come" Mathias said almost pleadingly to Carpenter.
The Head of Healers looked at him grimly, but before he could say anything, Lil joined Mathias.
"We have no choice."
"The sooner we get approval for it, the better."
Carpenter silenced them by raising his hand.
"You mean Avada or just Imperius?"
"Imperius" Mathias replied immediately. "Maybe we can find a way to heal them, so we definitely won't use Avada."
Carpenter put his face in his hands and sighed heavily.
"I understand. I will ask for permission as soon as possible."
Mathias made a strange noise and started to leave.
"Regardless of whether we have consent or not, I will do it when necessary."
"Math" Carpenter called after him in warning.
"If we can't heal them anymore, then we're here to help at least" Mathias growled, holding the door open. "And not passively watch them die in pain. These spells were invented FOR US, and it is not my fault that because of the morons who used them to murder and subjugate people, they were forbidden."
And he went out slamming the door.
Edinburgh, Scotland
Rayleigh Manor
At the same time
Walking quickly down the long, narrow corridor to her apartments, Alex still tightened her fingers around her wand.
She was stick of exquisite breakfasts, sophisticated and overbearing manners of her parents, her mother's intrusive remarks and her father's total ignorance, but most of all she was sick of his constant treatment of her like a little girl who could not cope with anything.
She took over the family business a good five years ago, but although she paid it off in full and was in fact running it on her own, everyone around thought that she was just a partner and the company was still owned by her parents. It was the father who forced her to find a name that would prove that he and his mother still manage it. Her father kept coming to the Laboratory, believing that without it the employees would not work well, the mother constantly monitored the signed contracts and issued invoices and both of them made various decisions without even consulting her. Sometimes they offered contracts to new customers, sometimes they agreed to change the price or payment terms and they clearly expected her gratitude when they informed her about that.
They tried to control her life completely and although in theory the entire left wing of the manor belonged to her, she had no right to even bring guests.
She was just sick of it! Sick of everything!
She cast Colloportus at the front door and walked quickly into the bedroom. If father was coming to the Lab today, she had to hurry. She had a meeting today that they would definitely not like.
She stripped off her robes and summoned more appropriate clothes from the closet.
Coningsby, England
A little later that morning
House of Gawain Robards,
Ten minutes passed, but no one answered. And yet he banged his fists on the front door, banged on the window until he broke the glass, he walked around the house and yelled!
Harry looked around again and kicked hard on the door.
„Shit, Gawain, where are you ?!" He screamed in anger and pain that inflamed his leg almost all the way to his knee. Possible his bone has broken.
A dog burst out of the house next door and, barking, jumped up to the fence and started running along and yapping, which only pissed him off even more.
„Shut up!" He snapped at him.
But the sight of a dog running gave him the idea. He lashed his wand and conjured Patronus.
"Gawain, we have a very serious problem. I need you right now. I'll wait in HQ, come as soon as possible" he said chaotically, trying to stay calm, even though he had problems to pronounce words. " Please. And don't send me a reply via Patronus. Harry."
He waved his wand in any direction and his Stag immediately jumped forward and the luminous haze disappeared.
Harry tapped his open palm against the door one last time, waited a moment and with a heavy sigh, desapparated to the Ministry of Magic. He had to be patient.
Ministry of Magic, Auror's Headquarters
In the same time
Paul was sitting on high heels and waiting for Harry Potter to come back. Every few moments he glanced at his watch and could no longer count the number of times he had looked at it.
He felt uneasy when Potter was not around, within sight and hearing. He felt ... in danger. It was completely irrational, but that's how he felt.
He sent Roger to the Archives on any pretext, fearing that Roger would finally notice his strange behavior. He KNEW he was acting weird. He FELT it!
He tried to analyze his every gesture, smile, answer, and over and over he asked himself how he would have acted if he hadn't been guilty. If he hadn't known. But he felt as if he acted worse and worse. Although no one has noticed it yet.
Nobody but Potter. As for him, he had increasing suspicions that Potter KNOWS. He had no idea how or where from, but he felt the he knew. Worse. That they both know the other knows too.
He could almost feel the growing tension between them. As it sometimes happens between lovers who instinctively feel that there is something between them. They feel the other person's glances, hear the echo of their thoughts. But they're still not sure.
He wasn't sure either and kept telling himself that he was just getting things wrong. But despite the assurances, he still felt it. Except that what was between them was hostile. BAD.
Harry pushed the door to the Headquarters so vigorously it slammed against the wall and almost ran over to his desk.
"Kath was absent?" Someone said, Harry not even noticing who.
"No."
"I just came back from Mungo's, I didn't see her there" Marcus announced, leaning back in his chair. "Why don't you go find her."
"SHE-IS-AB-SENT" spelled Harry and quickly reached for just any roll of parchment. "I haven't seen her and I'm not going to run after her all over the Ministry!"
Paul looked down at his desk. So what was he doing all this time ?! And why is he so pissed off?
But no one paid any attention to the uncultured answer, because they all rose or came out from behind the cubicles just to see Marcus.
"So? There is any improvement? Are they better? What's new?"
Marcus shook his head with a heavy, helpless sigh.
"Unfortunately not. From what I've heard, nothing works. There are no more places in the rooms on the third floor, so the sick are everywhere, in other Wards too. And Wolf told me they had already sent in an official request for permission to cast Imperius. That the sick would not suffer."
"Oh, fuck" someone blurted out in a sudden, dead silence.
No one spoke for a long moment.
„Have they got an answer?" Klaudia finally asked, her voice trembling.
"No. Minister is absent and Moore refuses to make any decisions. Asshole."
The girl slumped down with a groan on her chair, hid her face in her hands and heard their soft crying.
„There is my grandfather in the Clinic."
Andrew, her partner, immediately put his arm around her and began to comfort her.
„Merlin, what could they poison themselves with?" Someone grunted.
„Healers try to find out from the family. What did they eat, when and where."
"I can imagine someone cooking something stale ... or mistaking some poisonous fish or Streeler or what ... but for so many people to eat it ?"
Harry suddenly felt that if he doesn't speak, he will simply suffocate. He will explode. Something began to tremble in his chest.
"If someone did it on purpose, I'm gonna get the son of bitches and kill him with my bare hands!"
Roger next to Paul snorted with disbelief because no one had heard such words from Harry before.
"Man, take it easy."
Harry sent him a long, furious look and stuck his jaw forward.
"I'm not going to, Roger. I can promise you that!"
Paul dared to look directly at him and suddenly it dawned on him that Potter must suspect Roger as well!
At that moment, their eyes met and he quickly turned his head, exactly at the same moment as Potter.
HE KNOWS. He knows for sure... ! Damn it!
He sat down heavily in the chair.
He had no choice but to get rid of Potter. He couldn't do that in the Ministry, so he had to get him out of the Headquarters and catch him somewhere in the Ministry's corner ...
He just had to figure out how to do it.
Howden Dam
At the same time
"Someone's knocking, open the door" Peter said softly to Gratus, who was snoring on the couch, but the giant man didn't even flinch.
It could only be Tylor, who for sure would be pissed if he had to wait, so Peter got up as silently as possible and tiptoed into the kitchen. There he could pretend he hadn't heard anything.
The knock sounded louder and then he heard a hard slam – certainly Tylor punched or kicked the door. Immediately there was a movement in the living room; Gratus jumped up abruptly, flew off the couch and, cursing, pulled himself up and ran down the hall.
Peter smiled under his breath.
„... I'm sorry. This wood is so thick that you cannot hear anything" he heard a dozen seconds later. "When I hired you, you didn't mention you were deaf" Tylor growled.
"Sir, believe me..."
"ENOUGH!"
Peter wiped his triumphant smile off his face and went into the living room.
"Hello, Mr. Tylor" he bowed to the old man.
The man gave him a cold look, walked over to the armchair and slowly sat down in it. Looking at deep wrinkles around his tightened lips Peter concluded he had succeeded and congratulated himself silently. The old man is pissed as hell.
„How much poison do we have in stock?" Tylor grunted, crossing his leg.
Peter knew perfectly well, but he pretended to reflect.
"About four bottles. Almost everything went to Diagon Alley a few days ago."
"I poured only the quantity you told me" Gratus said immediately. "Not a bottle more!"
"I'm talking to Peterson now, not to you" Tylor snapped and he turned to face Peter. "Start brewing eight large cauldrons today. They are to be ready in two days."
"And the healing potion?"
"Not yet."
Peter pretended to hesitate.
"And where should I put the bottles? Because there are probably rats or mice in the warehouse..." Gratus laughed contemptuously and waved his hand.
"You don't mean to say you're afraid of mice?"
Peter suppressed the urge to kick him right in the face.
"Merlin, Gratus, it's enough for them to start playing and knock everything down! I don't know what's worse, that we would need to change plans or that so much money would be wasted! Not to mention our safety!"
Bloody Bastard turned to Gratus surprisingly quickly and Peter could only imagine his murderous glare.
"Be warned, a little more and I'll start considering the idea of changing the security guard. Now, shut up, go to the warehouse and see what's going on there. And don't leave until the problem is resolved."
Merlin, I love you. You're gorgeous, old asshole!
"I'll start brewing now, tomorrow the potion will be ready" he reported and turned away from looking at Gratus' expression. Though he would have given a sack of galleons to see it.
"I said the day after tomorrow" Tylor corrected him, pushing himself off the armrests, stood up with an effort and started to leave.
„Of course!"
The old man slammed the door and left so Peter could finally looked at Gratus.
„If you want, take a gas lamp."
„What the hell?" Gratus growled.
"You're deaf now, you'd better not go blind."
Gratus jumped up to Peter and grabbed him by the front of his robe, but Peter was no longer afraid of him.
„Get out. You have not heard? I'm to brew a potion for Mr. Tylor" he said calmly and the giant released it slowly. "You better go catch the mice, not me."
Then he went to the room that served as the laboratory.
This was exactly what he was waiting for - to finally start brewing.
Ministry of Magic
Around 11 o'clock
It was almost eleven, Gawain was still absent and Paul had just left the Headquarters. Paul left, but Roger stayed - and that reassured Harry a little.
He looked at his watch the thousandth time and rubbed his temples hard. If until eleven o'clock Gawain doesn't answer, you go to Kingsley.
He didn't even try to work because no one could. Everybody formed small groups, talked in low voices, looked at the papers senselessly, or just stared blankly somewhere in front of them.
Everyone probably thought that soon in the Clinic helpless Healers will start casting Unforgivable Spells on patients they couldn't heal. Once upon a time, hundreds of years ago, it was normal - there weren't many spells or potions yet, but the level of knowledge has changed a lot since then. The fact that there was a situation in which you had to go back to those old days was shocking.
But Harry wasn't thinking about it. He tried to prepare himself the arguments he would have to use to convince Gawain or Kingsley that he was right.
Unexpectedly, something ripped near his ear and a little aeroplane with the Ministry's stamp on the left wing landed on the desk in front of him. Mechanically he reached for it and unfolded it.
„What is this?" Roger asked, seeing his surprised expression.
Harry frowned and looked at the aeroplane again.
"Foch is calling me. Apparently urgent."
"What did you do?" Roger tried to joke. "Because when Foch says it's urgent, it's usually to wig you for some stupidity that bothers only him."
Harry's been called on the carpet of Personal's a few times already, and he managed to defend himself each time. Foch reminded him of Filch, who used to cling to students for breathing too loudly or for too much tousled hair.
"I don't know" he sighed, glanced at his watch and stood up. Eleventh. A wonderful opportunity to get out! "If I don't come back in an hour, get the guys to free me from him."
He smiled weakly, instinctively picked up the plane and left.
He paused outside the door and looked at it again. The aeroplane looked normal, but strange at the same time.
He shrugged and started toward the elevators. You are about to talk to Kingsley.
.,.
Paul cast Disillusionment Charm on himself and stood in the open door of the storeroom, that was in the same corridor as Foch's office and secretary's office. Since most of the official correspondence was created in the Administration Office, Registration and Services Office and Human Resources Department, there was a recess halfway down the corridor leading to a small room lined with boxes of parchment rolls with the official imprint of the Ministry, application forms, declarations and requests and plain paper. In theory, everything should be INSIDE the storeroom, in practice, almost the entire recess was cluttered with piles of cardboard boxes and parcels.
This was fine for Paul for two reasons - first, he could hide there easily, and second, hardly anyone went into the storeroom, so he could drag Potter there until he figured out how to get him out of the Ministry.
Now, making sure there was no romantic get-together, he stood right next to the door and watched the elevator hall.
The elevators had stopped several times and the sound of the bell and a woman's voice made something jump within him and like a wild animal, Paul prepared to jump on the prey, but each time someone else came out.
Not yet. Soon.
Instinctively, he hid behind a tall cardboard column as two young witches walked down the corridor and continued to listen.
And he lived to see it.
The elevator came chiming with the chains, the bell rang and a woman's voice uttered words he couldn't hear clearly but knew by heart.
"... retary and Support Services, Human Resources Department, including Administrative Offices, Legal Department, Payroll Department and..."
Paul froze, squeezed his wand and took a deep breath as the familiar figure emerged from the elevator.