Hi guys! I'm super happy to have this final chapter ready for you all - and up on time, I might add! Thank you so much for sticking with me through the at-times ridiculously long waits for updates. I so appreciate your patience and I hope the waits have been worth it.
A quick disclaimer for the interrogation scene present in this chapter: I have no idea if the details are right for a scene like this. All my information in this area comes from NCIS. Please excuse any inaccuracies in the process!
Congratulations, honestly, for making it to this point. It's been a long time coming. And it's been a huge pleasure writing these chapters for you. I hope you like this conclusion to the story. I would love to hear your thoughts. Enjoy!
Harry spent ten days in hospital and had been chafing at the bit to leave after three of them. His physical injuries mended after a few days, but there had been some lingering spell damage that had proven a bit trickier to repair.
The match against Kenmare that Ginny missed had been a close call, but the Harpies scraped by with a victory and Gwenog had the team working as hard as ever as the season's end – semifinals, finals, and maybe the championship with it – drew nearer. After the first several days wherein it was by sheer force of will alone that she left Harry's side for any extended length of time, Ginny had taken up a routine of attending the rigorous practices each morning before joining him for lunch in his hospital room. Her mother had begun preparing them meals, which she had sent with her each day. Ginny complied in bringing them in part because she knew it comforted her mother to feel useful after the scare they'd all been given with Harry's capture, but also because she had to admit that the meals the hospital served did not hold a candle to Molly Weasley's cooking.
She had also started spending several hours each week assisting George at the joke shop, as he was down a man with essentially all of Ron's time at the moment taken up by his time at the Ministry, hunting for the mole in the Auror department. She was not as proficient as either of her brothers in the spells they regularly employed in the manufacturing of their products, but George had shown her several of the most important ones and kept written instructions for the rest, and Ginny was happy to help wherever she could. She certainly owed Ron that much after what he'd done for Harry.
They stepped out of the fireplace now and into the living room of their home, the first time Harry had set foot in the place since before the start of that fateful mission. The clutter scattered throughout evidenced the little time Ginny had actually spent here herself over the past week and a half. Since Harry's return, she'd used the house for little more than sleeping and dressing. An odd mix of emotions accompanied being back now, standing together in the spot where, for Ginny, it had all truly begun some eighteen days ago now.
She wasn't sure which expression her features wore as Harry took her hand and squeezed, surely reading whatever retrospection was present there. "Alright?" he murmured, eyeing her with familiar green eyes.
She blinked and then nodded. "Yes." She allowed herself one more second to drink him in, to revel in the fact that he was okay, that he was home, and the sheer relief on which she'd been floating on for days rose up once more. "Let's get you settled," she told him then, "You're supposed to rest."
Ginny knew the "I'm fine," was coming before he said it.
"You nearly died."
He shrugged. "Not exactly the first time."
She raised an eyebrow at her husband, the cavalier git. It was only his recent injuries and that fact that she knew he was not actually nearly so flippant towards the situation that she didn't hex him right there. Brushing aside the severity of his situation had always been a coping mechanism for Harry. He would deal with the gravity of it when he was ready – and he'd have plenty of time to do so with the weeks of leave, followed by desk duty, he'd been given from the Ministry while he recovered. Merlin knew he'd be bored to tears long before he was cleared for fieldwork again, and Ginny was sure she'd be considering a holiday all to herself by the end of it. Maybe she'd send him to work with George in her place once he was able to move without visible stiffness.
At which point, she was sure they would enjoy being reacquainted in other ways as well…
"Try and make it the last," she said now.
"I'll do my best," he promised.
"Good. Now go sit down," she nodded toward the sofa, "like a good patient. I'm going to make us lunch."
Harry raised a dark eyebrow, obediently walking beside her to the nearby sofa. "You're going to cook lunch?"
She rolled her eyes. "I'm going to reheat lunch."
He grinned. "Sounds more like it."
She glared at him but struggled to keep the corners of her mouth from twitching up. "Oh, stuff it."
She moved to turn away, toward the kitchen, but Harry caught her around the waist before she could and pulled her down with him onto the sofa. She could not prevent the noise of surprise that escaped her as he pulled her off balance. "What are you doing?" she asked after she landed neatly on his lap, half facing him – a planned move on his part, clearly.
"Lunch can wait," Harry murmured, pulling her to his chest, "You've got the day off. Teddy isn't coming until tomorrow morning. Let's just sit here awhile."
Ginny smirked. "Alright." She moved to slide off his lap, but he held her tighter – with surprising strength for someone who'd been at death's door not very long ago.
"You don't need to move," he said. "I don't want you to, actually."
She looked at him, her eyes darting to the area of his chest which had recently been so severely slashed open, before meeting his eyes again.
"I'm fine, Gin. The Healers at Saint Mungo's do good work."
Ginny studied him for one more moment before she relaxed against him at last and wrapped her arms around him. "I'm going to need you to never scare me like that again, understood? I've had enough of fearing you're dead for one lifetime, Harry Potter."
Harry was quiet for a moment, long enough that Ginny was about to speak up again, worried that maybe her jest hadn't quite come across the way she'd intended – then he was kissing her. It was long, and deep, and wonderful – the first of the sort they'd shared since everything had happened, as was not an option in hospital with Harry's every breath and heartbeat so closely monitored. Ginny drank him in, the smell of him, the taste – his soft lips and the stubble on his unshaven face, the warmth radiating off of him, trusting he would stop if it became too much for him, if he needed to break, to rest or breathe. He apparently did not feel the need to.
Several minutes of shameless snogging – which was where things would stay for the time being, the line Ginny would not allow them to cross until he had a little more time to fully regain his strength – later, Harry pulled away and, his forehead nearly touching hers, his breath coming a bit faster than normal – but then, hers was too – he said, "I love you, Ginny."
She smiled against his lips. "I love you too."
He relaxed some then, leaning back into the sofa, arms still around her. She adjusted her position to one more comfortable but kept them every bit as close to one another, and laid her head on his shoulder.
Harry had made his priorities crystal clear. Who was she to insist otherwise?
As it turned out, trying to glean information from witches and wizards trained extensively to avoid giving up information they didn't want to was no small task. And after weeks of sifting through security footage, case reports, and employee records, followed by several additional weeks of exhaustively interrogating characters whose whereabouts seemed even the slightest bit dodgy in regards to a potential leak in the Auror department, Ron was growing tired and more than a little frustrated.
He and Robards had cleared many Aurors over the course of their internal investigation. They had narrowed the suspect list down to 3 wizards - including Goodwin and Rhodes – and one witch, all of whom had been in Belarus. They'd explored all the lines of inquiry they could, but continually reached the same conclusion – that the mole had to have been on the Belarus mission. Even before Harry's capture, there had been next to no contact between the team and the Ministry, or anyone. It had been too covert. They'd had their orders and executed them. And once the mission had turned into a rescue endeavor, there still had been no Ministry communication outside of Goodwin's rare secure transmissions to Robards. No one else back home had known the whereabouts or the details of the Belarus team. The wards at the Ministry kept a magical history of all interactions between wizards who were not the Minister for Magic or the Head of the Auror department.
From the information they'd been able to collect on the situation, they'd decided the mole was also likely working alone. From a strategic standpoint, it became a bigger risk with the more people on the inside. There tended to be more of a trail left behind and more people involved to potentially make a mistake. Part of Ron wished there was more than one mole, if only because there would be more evidence available with which to track at least one down. Learning the identities of any accomplices was always easier than finding the first.
But the evidence trail was too small and the four suspects had no true connections outside of their work as Aurors that would suggest a team effort. So the investigation continued. Until the mole made a mistake and revealed him- or herself.
With a light sigh, Ron shifted his attention back to the interrogation taking place on the other side of the charmed glass before him, which separated the observation room where he stood from the interrogation room beyond. Robards sat inside said room with Goodwin, running through the list of questions regarding his whereabouts over the past month again. He and Ron had traded off asking the questions, both individually and together against each suspect, waiting for the details of one of their recounts to change even a little, which would suggest that person was lying.
So far, all four of their stories had been remarkably synchronous.
"I've told you before," Goodwin said in mild exasperation, "and I'm telling you now, sir, that I know nothing of a mole in the Ministry. And I certainly am not one."
"You were in charge of the team after Potter was taken out there," Robards countered calmly, "You made the decisions about where they went and when, how things were handled. Of everyone out there, you, Goodwin, were in the best position to carry out orders that benefitted Knox and his Death Eaters."
"Except I didn't. I would never betray this Ministry. And I certainly would never work with Death Eaters. My family suffered as much as anyone during He-Who – er – Voldemort's reign not that long ago. My cousin lost her life in the Battle. I would never dishonor her memory like that. Never."
"Then who would?" Robards demanded, leaning closer now, "Who had the means and opportunity to sell us out to them?"
"If I'd known that, I'd have told you."
Ron sighed again. He wanted to believe Goodwin, he did. Just like he wanted to believe the stories of all of the suspects, all of whom claimed innocence and ignorance. But one of them was lying. He just wasn't sure which.
He missed his work at the joke shop. Selling tricks and dreaming up new prank ideas was far less complicated than the life of covert missions and long investigations he'd left behind. This situation only confirmed that he'd made the right decision in moving on from the Aurors. Not that he didn't enjoy the action and the satisfaction of helping those who needed it most, but he didn't live for the work the way Harry did. He wasn't built for it in the long-term.
The door to the observation room opened then, drawing Ron's attention from the scene before him, as Harry stepped inside. His brother-in-law had made it almost a fortnight at home before he'd run out of ways to occupy his time and was climbing the walls to get out. He had been allowed to return to work early, with limited hours at first, and was under strict orders that he was not to participate in any field work until he was properly cleared by the Ministry's Healers.
Which was just as well, as Ron and Robards had still been in the early stages of their investigation at that point and Harry had been a set of fresh eyes. As Aurors had been cleared, Harry had become something of the point-man in organizing them. Some, he'd sent to search for Knox and his men, who were still at large, but hopefully scrambling with the escape of their prized prisoner. Others, he'd recruited to assist in the search for evidence that could hopefully help identify the source of the Ministry's leak.
The mole situation was something Kingsley had wanted kept as quiet as possible, which was why only those who had been questioned about their involvement were recruited and given strict orders to tell no one else of the leak. The more people that knew, the harder it would become to be discrete.
"McCarthy's been cleared," Harry announced, crossing the small space to where Ron stood. "Turns out the occasions she was unaccounted for, she was using a Protean charm on a locket to communicate with her sister. Their mother is very ill and she was checking in. Her sister corroborated the story and their lockets were examined. Ainsworth found evidence of their exchanges. They were limited just to them."
Ron hummed. "Still a write-up for her, breaking protocol like that. But it's certainly better than treason."
Harry nodded. "I suppose I can't blame her too much."
"It's a hard call," Ron agreed.
"How's it going in here?" Harry nodded to the ongoing interrogation.
"Same as always. Goodwin's adamant he's loyal."
"They always are until they aren't," Harry said darkly, "I hope it's true. I've always thought he was a good man."
Anything Ron might have said in reply was interrupted when the door banged open again to reveal Will Thompson, one of the Aurors who's name had been cleared and who had been sent out to hunt Knox and his men. "We got them," he said a bit breathlessly, "All of them. Caught them by surprise."
Ron rapped quickly on the charmed glass. Robards glanced up and then stood to leave without a word to Goodwin. He appeared beside Thompson a moment later. The Auror repeated the news to the Head Auror.
"And Knox?" Harry asked, his voice edged.
Thompson's eyes shuttered a bit. "He wouldn't be taken. Charged us with Avada Kedavra. Left us no choice."
Beside him, Robards' mouth tightened with distaste. "Well, good riddance," he decided.
"Any casualties on our side?" Harry demanded.
"Some minor cuts and bruises. Nothing serious." Harry considered this for a second.
"You got Ironwood?" Ron asked now, his heart rate increased at the prospect of the break they'd so badly been needing. Cal Ironwood was Knox's second-in-command. If they couldn't have Knox, he was the next best.
Thompson nodded. "Yes, but he isn't talking."
"That's fine," Harry said, "Take him to an interrogation room and force some Veritaserum down his throat."
Ron eyed his best friend. "Anything he says won't be admissible," he cautioned.
It was Robards who spoke now. "Doesn't matter. We've got more than enough on him already to send him to Azkaban for the rest of his miserable life. What we need is the identity of whoever's been giving them information. Once we have that, we'll know who to focus our efforts on. We'll find a way to break them. Whoever it is isn't going to talk otherwise."
Ron did not waste more than a second considering this. Not after everything that had happened, after all the work they'd put into finding Knox, after they'd almost lost Harry for good. "I like it."
"Do it," Harry told Thompson, not unkindly, but the order was clear in his tone.
"Yes, sir."
Everything, Ron was pleased to note, moved rather quickly after that. Cal Ironwood may have been strong-willed as a hippogriff when he was first brought in, but once the Veritaserum hit his lips, he proceeded to spill what appeared to be every secret he'd ever kept. There were, of course, ways to resist the truth potion. It was difficult to do, especially with the specific methods of questioning all Aurors learned during their training, but it could be done. Ironwood apparently lacked either the ability or the will to attempt to fight it. The Auror department had the name of its mole in record time: Bentley Rhodes, Goodwin's partner and the wizard who served as his second-in-command for Harry's rescue mission.
No wonder things had gone the way they had.
After confirming with Ironwood that no one else in the Ministry, Auror or otherwise, was involved in the plot, the remaining suspects were released with sincere apologies and the Auror department turned its attention to Rhodes. Robards entered the interrogation room first and gave the traitorous wizard one last chance to come clean without yet showing their hand. He spent nearly three-quarters of an hour in there and made little progress except to get him riled up and unsettled just enough before Harry joined him.
Ron, watching from behind the charmed glass, smirked a bit at the obvious double-take Rhodes clearly tried to hide. This was, of course, the plan all along – to keep Harry from the interrogations until the suspect list was narrowed down to one. Give them no information on his condition. Let the suspects believe him still hospitalized, or comatosed, or dead. It had been an easy enough ruse to keep up, with Harry actually in hospital and then stuck home for as long as he had been, with the Aurors whose names had yet to be cleared all locked away and isolated by the time he came back with the interrogations already underway.
And seeing Rhodes' reaction to his presence now, at the thinly-veiled disgust he was apparently no longer capable of hiding, even without the forced testimony of the captured Death Eater in the next room, Ron had no doubt they had the right man.
"Here's the thing, Rhodes," Harry said calmly, his face an expressionless mask which gave away nothing as he took the seat beside Robards at the table, "We know you're the one who's been feeding information to Death Eaters."
"Is that so?" Rhodes asked with raised eyebrows, "And how, might I ask, are you so certain of that?"
Harry held the older wizard's stare and did not so much as blink at the glare there. "Your pal Knox is dead," he said simply, "He was killed by fellow Aurors hours ago." Rhodes did not react. "Your other pal, Ironwood, gave you up. He, and the other maggots with him, are in custody and will be going to Azkaban. As will you."
"He would never- " Rhodes abruptly cut off, apparently remembering he was not supposed to be in cahoots with Death Eaters. His jaw tightened. "I dunno what you're talking about."
"Don't you?" Harry countered.
"I think he does," Robards said, his arms crossed casually over his chest as he leaned back in his chair, studying Rhodes.
"This is ridiculous," Rhodes snapped, "And you know what, it's harassment. I don't have to talk to you."
"You're right," Robards drawled, "But you sure do look bloody guilty if you don't."
Rhodes rolled his eyes. "These accusations are absurd."
"Are they?" Harry asked.
Rhodes sneered. Ron felt the excitement bubbling up in his chest. He'd watched enough interrogations, and conducted them himself, during his years with the Auror department, and he recognized what was happening, what was about to happen. Guilty suspects had this tendency to resemble caged animals when they were close to breaking, when they realized they had backed themselves into a corner with their own words and pride, and they were about to lose. It had never once ceased to satisfy. Rhodes looked like that now.
"You're lying. Ironwood would never talk."
"He would with Veritaserum," said Harry plainly.
Rhodes actually laughed. "That's what you have to go on? A testimony under Veritaserum? Good luck getting a conviction with inadmissible evidence. Everyone knows information extracted with Veritaserum is unreliable."
"We'll see."
Rhodes glared at him with such hatred, Ron thought he might have hit him if he'd been in the room. "You can't use that testimony."
"Maybe not," Robards put in, "But given your reaction to dear Potter here, the holes in your story about the times you were unaccounted for in Belarus, your general lack of cooperation up to this point, and the fact that you've as good as confessed to knowing Knox's second-in-command, I don't think it will be very hard to convince a jury that you're guilty." He looked to Harry. "What do you think, Auror Potter?"
Ron was sure Harry was trying not to smirk now as he answered, "I think we've convicted with far less. And with the way so many here feel about one of our own betraying us, especially after Voldemort infiltrated so much, I think he'll be lucky if they don't call to temporarily reinstate the Dementors at Azkaban just so they can give him the Kiss before he goes."
Not likely, not only since the Minister himself personally removed them from use after the war, but also because Harry would never allow such a thing to happen, even to a wizard who'd single-handedly enabled his lengthened captivity and torture.
But his words found their mark. Rhodes straightened as if shocked, his defiant mask replaced with one of true fear as he said, "No, please. Not the Kiss. I'll give you what you want. I'll confess. Please, don't let them do that. I'll do anything."
"Lovely choice," Robards remarked, wordlessly Summoning a quill and a piece of parchment. "Write it down. All of it. I want a full confession and any information you have on the whereabouts and locations of any remaining Death Eater sects. And maybe we'll talk them into sparing you."
Rhodes eyed the parchment. "I don't know much… about-"
"Write. Everything you do. Now."
And he did.
Within a week, all of Knox's associates – Rhodes included – had been tried and sentenced to Azkaban for the rest of their days. In addition to this victory, the information Rhodes provided filled in enough blanks in that which the department had already compiled on several other small remaining bands of Death Eaters to allow for a few additional arrests and the start of some small missions to capture the rest. The bust turned out to be a significant success for the Ministry and for the Aurors, one that put them that much closer to the day, hopefully not long in the future now, when the surviving sects of Voldemort's followers were no more.
It was a lofty goal, yes, but Harry liked to believe it was possible. Had to.
He signed his name across the bottom of the final report atop his desk now, the last of the significant mountain of paperwork which resulted from an endeavor such as that of the past month – an unfortunate downside to the work he loved.
Ron sat in the chair opposite his desk. Harry handed his friend and brother-in-law the page he'd signed and watched as he signed it himself before placing it in the waiting file before him. Ron was no longer an Auror, but Robards had brought him in as an official temporary consultant to the department after his insubordination in Belarus. It had given him the legal authority to assist in the investigation and, Harry had to admit, even confined to a desk as he was, he'd enjoyed the opportunity to work with his brother one last time.
Ron closed the file now and placed it on the finished pile in front of them before leaning back in his seat. A satisfying moment.
"Well, I suppose that's it then," Ron said after a moment's silence.
"I suppose it is," Harry agreed.
Ron glanced at his watch. "Not even half-five. I can make it home in time to have dinner with Hermione. She'll be pleased."
Harry smiled, remembering the conversation he'd had with Ron several days after they returned home and the effects of the pain potions had dulled enough to leave him coherent for more than a few minutes at a time. Evidently, Hermione had told him off for half an hour when they'd left Saint Mungo's that first day, only after which did she snog him senseless for, as Ron put it, the 'hero's welcome' he deserved.
It had been more information than Harry had necessarily needed with as close as he was to the both of them, but he was happy things had worked out with the two despite Ron's abrupt departure without telling her.
"Has Robards cleared you of your obligation here?" Harry asked now.
"This morning, yeah. I was to stay until the last of the paperwork was finished, then I was free."
"Back to the joke shop then?"
Ron smiled, and Harry was happy to see it. "I start back Monday. George is dead chuffed."
"Guess I'll have to get serious about finding a new partner then. Chances probably aren't great that you'll wind up back working here for a third time in less than six months, are they?"
"Not unless you get yourself kidnapped in a foreign country again, but I wouldn't aim for that if I were you. One person really can only escape death so many times, you know, and I think you're about at your quota."
"Don't tell that to Ginny."
Ron grinned. "I won't, but only because I don't think you could stay out of trouble for long if you tried, and it would be cruel to do that to my little sister."
Harry rolled his eyes. "Get out of my office, you git," he laughed.
"Such kind words for the man who saved your life."
Harry didn't reply except to stand himself and reach for his cloak and the pile of parchment on his desk. "Come on, we'll drop these off on our way out. If we're lucky, maybe we'll both make it home in time for dinner."
~6 Months Later~
Frankly, Ginny was impressed with herself. Hours had passed since she returned home, later than expected, to the sound of Teddy's laughter sounding from the kitchen. She'd found them both in there, a covered pot simmering on the stove and Harry standing with their turquoise-haired godson at the counter, showing him how to snap the ends off of fresh green beans and tossing them in the waiting pan. Both turned to look at her arrival and graced her with identical loving smiles of greeting.
She'd almost caved and broken the news right then.
In the time since, they had eaten, gone for a quick fly to enjoy the last of the day's autumn sunlight, and watched a Muggle film before readying Teddy for bed. She sat with Harry on the sofa now, enjoying his nearness and the warmth of the fireplace, and could hardly contain her excitement. She'd tell him now.
Hiding her smile as much as possible, she spoke, breaking the comfortable silence in the room. "Harry." He hummed quietly in answer. "I have something to tell you."
She sat up a bit and looked at him. Harry met her eyes, his brows furrowed in confusion. "What's wrong?"
She let her smile show a bit more. "Nothing's wrong."
"Alright, well, what are you on about?" She only smiled wider. "Gin!"
"I saw a Healer today."
Harry blinked, instantly concerned. "Why? Are you sick?" She could practically see his mind working behind his eyes, thinking back to the morning last weekend when she'd woken up with, what she'd assumed, was food poisoning, as it had improved in a couple of hours. He'd already left for the Ministry when it happened again the following morning. When it occurred several more times over the course of the week, she'd grown suspicious and a glance at a calendar revealed her mysterious illness was not the only unusual thing to have taken place.
She'd performed a store-bought charm at home that morning, and had immediately made an appointment with the Healer to confirm what she already knew.
"I'm not sick," she answered gently, still smiling.
Harry, looking as confused as he'd ever been, opened his mouth to speak again. "Then what-"
"I'm pregnant."
That certainly brought him up short. His mouth fell open. "You're w-what?"
Ginny smiled wider still. "I'm pregnant, Harry. We're going to have a baby."
Harry gaped for another moment, his eyes eventually straying to rest on her abdomen momentarily before meeting her eyes again. And then he surged forward and his arms were around her and she honestly wasn't sure whether he was laughing or crying as his body shook against hers. And when he did pull away, with tears in his eyes and a smile from ear to ear, he took her face in his hands, leaned his forehead to hers, and whispered, "I love you, Ginny. Merlin, I love you so much."
She chuckled. "Good, because it's too late to change your mind now."
"Never." And then he was kissing her deeply, passionately, as if he were feeling so much more than he could ever put to words and this physical expression was the only way he could truly communicate his thoughts on the matter, on this miracle, on the tiny, growing witch or wizard that both terrified Ginny and simultaneously made her want to sing with joy and happiness. At the impossible promise of the future neither of them had ever let themselves imagine, which had seemed so tenuous and fragile mere months ago. The future they'd pieced together anyway, and the love that would only grow from there.
Ginny thought she had never been happier.
And she couldn't wait to tell Teddy.
And that's a wrap. Thank you so much for reading!
As always, I would love to hear your thoughts. Thanks for putting up with me.
A brief PJO update for those of you interested: I know its been a literal age, but the next chapter of Wrangling a Hurricane is underway and should be posted soon! I know many of you have been waiting a long time, and I hear you! I'm so sorry. Please let me make it up to you. Stay tuned!