Both Thursday and Friday afternoons were once again spent in Liverpool. By Saturday, Harry finally had a home address of one Antonia Rowle, who now went by her maiden name Burke again—even though, as he learned, her divorce had never been actually granted.
He stood outside the graffiti-covered wall of the apartment block in the run-down area of the city.
"What are you looking at, Mister?" shouted some boys with skateboards under their arms.
Ms. Burke apartment was on the top floor. Harry was just going to ring the doorbell when it opened, revealing a petite woman with prematurely grey hair and dark circles under her eyes.
"Who are you?" she scowled, hand going inside the pocket of her long coat where she must have kept her wand.
"Ms. Antonia Burke? My name is Polyidus Thompson. I'm a Hogwarts Professor."
After a short deliberation, she motioned him inside, going back into the apartment with a slight limp. The living room with a kitchenette was small and cramped; the furniture there had seen better times. There was a TV, but it was covered with a thick layer of dust. A week-old edition of The Daily Prophet, the only overtly magical item in the room, was peeking out under The Times on the coffee table.
"Did they find Alex?" Ms. Burke asked in a tight tone.
"Unfortunately, no, but I can assure you that we are doing everything in our power to do so. If you could just answer a couple of questions to clarify—"
"Who are 'we'?" she interrupted. "I don't remember Alex's Head of the House mentioning you in her letters, and neither did Alex himself as far as I can remember. And I doubt anyone from that school would be particularly interested in looking for my son." She glared at Harry suspiciously, hand still on her wand.
Harry sighed. "You are right, Ms. Burke, though Professor Sinistra is genuinely worried about your son. I'm doing an independent investigation at the request of Ethelred Farley, Alexander's best friend's grandfather. I am currently working as a substitute teacher at Hogwarts to get to the bottom of your son's disappearance."
Ms. Burke regarded him for a moment. "Well, you might as well sit down," she said finally, taking off her coat. She waved her wand to send it to the coat rack, but the spell failed midway through. Catching it at the floor, Harry went to hang it himself. Ms. Burke sat on the sofa, her eyes closed.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Thompson. My magic has been... unstable lately." She got up abruptly. "I'll get us some tea."
When she came back with the tray and turned to the cupboard to get biscuits, Harry took a blue gel pen from his pocket. Taking off the pen lid, he quickly tipped it over her cup.
From the corner of his eye, Harry detected a movement in the hallway. He turned abruptly, hand on his wand, but couldn't see anybody there. As far as he knew, Antonia Burke lived alone.
Ms. Burke sat back and took her tea; after a moment, her pinched expression smoothed into a calmer one. Harry drew his eyes off the hallway and turned his attention to her.
"My ex-husband left me this as a parting gift," she explained. "I succeeded in escaping him and his friends all these years ago, but as it turned out, there's no escaping his legacy. Not for me, not for my son." Her voice was resigned.
"I know an excellent curse-breaker—" Harry started, but Ms. Burke shook her head.
"The only thing I can do is alleviating the symptoms. But that is of no importance. Tell me about Alex."
Harry told her the facts without getting into the matter of Richardson or the Gryffindors and then asked her about the money.
"Do you know where he could have got it?"
Shame flitted across her face. "He sent me some galleons this year; said he was helping some of his classmates with homework. Truth to be told, I suspected that something else was going on. Even if the prices have gone up since my time in Hogwarts, nobody would pay for their homework with gold." She laughed, but there was no humour in it. "But I can't hold a job anymore, and the only painkillers that can get me up from the bed are very expensive and hard to get. I got a promise from Alex not to get into anything illegal and took the money." She paused, sipping her tea with a faraway expression on her face. "He's got a job this summer too, you know. Had a row with the Farley boy."
"A row?"
"Alex usually spends at least a couple of weeks with his family. Edgar was very upset he wouldn't come. But Alex worked through the summer to get me money, and I let him with only some token protests."
"You deserve not to suffer," Harry said mildly.
"No, that is exactly what I deserve!" She exclaimed hotly. "It's Alex who deserved a happy childhood, but he has to suffer for my sins."
Harry started to protest, but she shushed him with an impatient wave of her hand.
"I used to buy into all that 'Pureblood Cause' rubbish, you know," she said.
Startled at the sudden change of the topic, Harry just looked at her.
"I knew very well that Finn was a Death Eater when I married him. I was proud of that, and excited, thinking he was so daring and mysterious. Of course, not long after our wedding, I realized just who he really was. A monster. All of them were, he and his disgusting friends: Macnair, Yaxley, Avery—" She shook her head, her eyebrows drawn together. "But I stayed because I convinced myself it would better for Alex that way. Finn could be such a gentleman in public, a picture of a loving husband and a father. Everybody envied me so much," she said with a mirthless little laugh. "And then there was this Quidditch World Cup, a year before the Dark Lord's return. Maybe you remember what happened there?"
Harry nodded. He remembered it very well.
"Finn went with his pals to 'have fun with the old crowd,' as he put it. When he returned to our tent, giddy and drunk, he said that the Dark Lord might be coming back. And when he returns, he said, when the Dark Lord returns, he, Thorfinn Rowle, would present his Master with his most prized possession. His pureblood heir."
He looked at her, horrified.
Ms. Burke closed her eyes. "I packed my things, took Alex and came to my parents' house the very next day. Unfortunately for me—" She gave another humourless laugh. "—my family was rather keen on having a Death Eater son-in-law in anticipation of the Dark Lord's return. They've never been his followers themselves, but only because it's bad for business. My father owns a pawn shop in Knockturn Alley, like his grandfather before him. You would be surprised how many of his customers prefer to keep up appearances," she explained. "They tried to persuade me to go back, and when I refused, they just let my husband in, in the middle of the night no less."
"That's horrible." Even the Dursley wouldn't do that. Probably.
"That's how I got cursed, you know. But my Finn is not the only one well versed in the Dark Arts," she said with a vengeful look. "After all, my beloved great-great-grandfather was Vindictus Viridian, a famous spellcrafter and an expert on curses. A truly wise man; hated Caracatus Burke's guts and warned me on his deathbed not to marry Finn. Dare I say, my ex-husband didn't escape that night unscathed. Finally hexing him was one the best moments of my life." She paused, deep in recollections. "But I didn't have anywhere to go in the Wizarding World, and I had to keep Alex safe. So the Muggle world it was."
"It must have been hard for you in the beginning," Harry said.
"But also incredibly freeing. Nobody knew me here, so there was no need for pretences. I wouldn't say Muggles are less judgemental, because they aren't really. They are exactly the same as us in this and many other regards. But they had no reason to judge me. I even wished a couple of times—" She hesitated but went on. "Before he got his Hogwarts letter, I almost wished Alex would be a squib. Merlin knows the chances for that are high in families like ours. He would have been forever deprived of the wonderful gift, but he could have lived his life free of that judgement. With what's happened, I can't help but think that it would be a better life for him."
"Miss Burke," Harry said, "I'll do everything in my powers to bring Alex back safe and unharmed. You know he has a great friend, and I would personally take measures to improve the situation in Hogwarts."
She smiled wanly, "Thank you, Mr. Thompson."
"Maybe you have any idea where he could go? Anything he mentioned in the summer or in his letter," Harry asked.
"No, no idea. He wanted to get enough NEWTs for Gringotts to hire him. My boy is very ambitious." She smiled again, happier this time.
Harry took out forty galleons. "This is the money your son had left hidden. I'm sure he wanted you to have them."
Ms. Burke looked at the gold warily. "That's a lot of money. I don't want to take something that isn't mine."
"Still, I'd prefer you to keep it, Miss Burke."
Suddenly, Harry thought he noticed another movement in the hallway. When he looked there though, it was once again empty.
After saying goodbye to Ms. Burke, as soon as the door closed behind him, Harry sprinted to the staircase leading to the roof. Once there, he took out a shrunken broom from his pocket, restored it to its original size, and mounted it, putting a mild Notice-Me-Not around himself. He wished he had his trusty Firebolt with him. But brooms, especially fine professional ones, didn't respond well to shrinking and other forms of magical tampering, and their enchantments would start to fail after one spell too many. So a second-hand Cleansweep it was.
Harry swooped down to the top-floor windows where he knew Ms. Burke's apartment would be. In the kitchenette, the woman herself was washing the cups without magic, leaning heavily on the sink. But it was another window of what must have been Alexander's bedroom that caught Harry's attention.
The room was small, roughly the size of Harry's own bedroom at the Dursleys', although much more overtly magical than the rest of the House. There was a Slytherin banner over the bed and the Holyhead Harpies poster on the opposite wall. A journal hovering over the desk, its pages turning over quickly. Looking closer, Harry could discern a chameleon-like outline of a person under the Disillusionment Charm.
He weighed up his options. There was the element of surprise and the higher ground on his side. He opened the window with a wordless Alohomora quickly followed by Finite Incantatem and a stunner.
Finite hit, revealing a dark-haired wizard in a long black coat that looked as close to the robes as you could get and still blend in with Muggles. The man dodged the stunner, however. It hit the chair instead, crashing it on the floor with a loud thud. The man whirled around, assuming a defensive stance and pointing his wand on Harry who found himself face-to-face with one furious Severus Snape.
They studied each other for a long moment in silence. Suddenly, there were heavy steps just outside the door. Ms. Burke must have heard the window chair falling.
"Hop on," Harry mouthed and gestured to his broom.
Snape looked at him and then at the door, making a split-second decision. Finally, he dropped the journal back in the drawer and quickly climbed through the window to sit behind Harry who took off near vertically into the sky. With luck, Ms. Burke would think that it was just a window opening and a gust of wind overturning the chair.
Snape pressed close against Harry in response to his aggressive flying. They were racing over the clouds on the highest speed Harry could squeeze from the old Cleassweep, his mind giddy from adrenaline and the feeling of the strong hands wrapped around his midsection.
He felt warm breath ghosting over his ear.
"Are we going to fly all the way to Scotland?" Snape asked.
Harry flushed. "No, of course not. Let me come down a bit to find a place to land."
They landed in the middle of the countryside and Harry shrunk the broom again. When he turned to Snape, the other man had a couple of pens in his hands. Among them was the pen that Harry used on Antonia Burke.
"Oi! I'm pretty sure that's mine!"
Snape took the lid off the red pen and sniffed it. "Salamander blood… Do you always carry a Magic Molotov in your pocket, Professor Thompson?" Harry wasn't sure whether it was more irony or derision that the word Professor was said with.
"You never know when you are going to need it. My NEWT class certainly makes the idea very tempting."
Snape lifted his eyebrow, but the corner of his mouth twitched slightly.
"It wouldn't spontaneously explode if that's what you are worried about," Harry elaborated. The pen would explode if broken in two and thrown, but Snape didn't need to know all the details.
After some deliberation, Snape handed Harry the red pen and inspected the blue one.
"Just some mild Calming Draught," Harry explained.
"Indeed. Do I want to ask about the other ones in your pocket?"
"I don't know what you are talking about," Harry put on his best innocent expression, which wasn't innocent at all. Still, some explanations were probably in order. "Listen, I'm freezing. I know a nice place in London; let's pop up there and talk."
Snape regarded him silently.
"No? How about the Three Bs? Hog's Head?"
They ended up going to the Three Broomsticks, because it was a non-Hogsmeade weekend and Snape, paranoid git, wouldn't let Harry Side-Along him.
"Is what you said to Antonia Burke true?" Snape asked after putting up a non-verbal Muffliato.
"Yes, all of it. Did you find anything interesting in Alexander's stuff?"
"No, nothing of interest. However, I was rather rudely interrupted."
Harry grinned, but then frowned. "Do you think going back would be worth it?"
"I don't believe so." Snape shook his head. "Although I don't see why you would trust me on this."
"What do you mean?" Harry looked at him in surprise. "Why would you lie to me? I've got an impression that you want to get to the bottom of this as much as me."
"Ah, but some might say I'm not a very... trustworthy individual. Maybe I've had a hand in Mr. Rowle's disappearance myself." Snape's face was impassive.
"That's silly. What reason would you have for that?"
"And yet you've implied to Burke that you suspected involvement of someone on the staff."
"I didn't mean you!" But Harry could see why Snape would think that way. An outsider would probably see Snape's actions today as highly suspicious, especially hearing all the rumours about him.
"Oh?"
"If you want to know, Professor, it seems that Richardson is involved into some shady business. I'm not sure how and if it's related to Rowle, though," he said.
Snape sneered. "Our noble ex-Auror is fair and just. Anyone who dares to contest that notion is just doing it out of spite and won't be taken seriously."
"We'll see about that," Harry said. "Do you have any ideas where Alexander might be, Professor?"
"You don't need to call me Professor. You are not and thankfully never were my student," Snape regarded Harry oddly for a moment.
Harry flushed. "Alright... Severus." The name felt strange on his lips. "Please call me H—Paul then," Harry added as an afterthought. Did he almost say 'Harry'? He wasn't so unfocused undercover in years.
Snape returned to the topic at hand. "Unfortunately, I'm not aware of any places young Mr. Rowle might have gone," he said. "Except for Farley Manor, perhaps, but if Governor Farley did hire you—"
A drunken man slightly older than Harry staggered to their table.
"You!" He pointed his shaking finger at Snape. "Death Eater scum! How dare you show your ugly mug around decent people?"
Some of the people at the table nearby cheered in agreement. Harry recognised Cormac McLaggen among that crowd.
Snape's face lost all expression.
Harry leapt to defence. "Severus Snape is a war hero and has more right to be here than any of you!"
"No brawls in my pub, Ancrum!" Madam Rosmerta made her way to them between the tables. "Go back to your table now or leave!" She turned to the others. "And don't think I will hesitate to toss any of you out of your ear if you've come here to pick fights!"
"We're already leaving, Rosmerta." Snape stood up as well.
Her eyes softened. "You don't have to leave on their account, Severus. The Three Broomsticks isn't the same without you around."
"Clearly, not everybody shares this sentiment."
She pursed her lips. "Idiots. I'll probably still end up throwing them out later."
They went back to Hogwarts. The foot-deep snow that kept parting under Snape's wand only to fall back behind them again, looking fresh and untouched.
"You don't need to do that," he said, keeping his eyes trained on his wand.
"Do what?" Harry asked in confusion.
"Try to ingratiate yourself with me like that. I will assist you in your search for Mr. Rowle even without—"
Harry gaped at him. "I didn't tell that drunken twat off to… to ingratiate myself or to brown-nose or something! I did it because it was the right thing to do!"
"Be it as it may, but I don't need anyone to fight my battles for me."
"Some battles you cannot win on your own," he protested mildly, opening the doors to the Great Hall.
"You don't know anything about me, Thompson."
"Paul," Harry corrected.
"You don't know anything about me, Paul."
Before Harry could answer, he saw two familiar Slytherins making their way to him. Noticing his companion, they made a sudden turn to a different direction, heading to the stairs.
Snape noticed them too. "I see you have certain students demanding your discrete attention."
"They are incredibly unsubtle, aren't they?" Harry chuckled.
"Students are rarely as subtle as they think, even those of my own House."
Harry smiled. "Well, I'd better go then. See you tomorrow, Severus."
Snape nodded and strode to the dungeons.