Inspector Granger carefully looked at Harry. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
That man was Hermione's ancestor.
"No really. Why are you looking at me like that?"
That man was Hermione's ancestor.
When Harry told him the man he knew a girl named Granger he scoffed. "Granger hardly is a rare name," he dryly stated.
And yet Harry just knew this man was either a great-grandfather or a great-great-grandfather of his friend. That bushy mustache, that annoying stubbornness… If Harry had troubles finding in the Weasley of this time the Ron he knew, he could now see clearly his Hermione in this Robert Granger who had caught him red-handed.
What were the odds? In the millions of people currently living in the UK, what were the odds he'd meet in muggle London his best friend's ancestor?
But the man clearly didn't care about Harry's existential crisis for he put the pen knife he's found on the table between them. "You realize bringing a weapon here is illegal, I hope. Attempting to steal too, I suppose. The fact that I'm a police inspector and I could have been keeping confidential documents in there doesn't help either." Closing his drawer, he drawled, "I've always thought a wrongdoer attempting any crime in here, more than a sign of bravery, was evidence of pure stupidity. What were you looking for by the way?"
Harry didn't answer.
"After what you did, a single word from me will be enough for you to spend a long time behind bars. So you should finally start talking. Now."
Sensing the man meant what he was saying Harry sighed. "Nothing really."
"So you're a kleptomaniac," he dryly stated. "A kleptomaniac or a young man who hasn't been taught not to put his nose into other people's business."
Harry considering a moment telling that was the pot calling the kettle back but chose against it. He knew he couldn't afford being difficult anymore.
It was a miracle the man hadn't dragged him to a cell already. He didn't know why he hadn't already done so, in fact.
"The knife was for defending myself," he carefully began. "I've been told London was a dangerous city with… with Jack the Ripper and..."
The man's left eyebrow twitched. "That case happened nine years ago."
"Well, you never know. The police didn't catch him so he could come back at any time. The police's never caught him so..."
"Even if he was coming back, are you a woman of little virtue?"
"That doesn't mean London cannot be dangerous."
The man sighed but didn't contest the point. "The knife, I can more or less understand, but searching my desk? Why did you pick the lock to my drawer?" He paused. "Come to think of it, how did you open the lock? You've got no utensil on you that could do the job."
Giving a suspicious look in the direction of said drawer, he caressed the lock with his hand.
"And you didn't force the lock either so how did you do it?"
Harry tried a shrug. "You probably forgot to lock it."
"I always lock my drawer. Always. I ever remember doing it right before you came. So how did you do it? How?"
The man intently looked at said drawer, seemingly forgetting Harry was ever there. Finally he startled and suspiciously looked at the pen knife on the table.
Harry's heart stopped.
For a moment that seemed to last an eternity, the man strangely looked at the pen knife charmed to open any lock. Finally he vividly shook his head. "Nah, can't be. I suppose you're right. I must have forgotten to lock it."
It took everything for Harry not to sigh in pure relief.
"Nevertheless, you opened my drawer and was looking for something. So what was it? What were you searching that was worth getting in a lot of troubles? What are you and that magician hiding?"
It was clear the man wouldn't let him stay quiet any longer. Harry tried to see a way out of this mess, something he could say that'd lead the man to a merry path and let him escape his office relatively unscathed.
He had tried to find something on the man so he could somehow know what to use against him. Unfortunately, the most he got was that he was one of these rabid Sherlock Holmes fans and Hermione's great-grandfather. In other words, he had nothing.
As soon as he thought that, Harry shook his head.
It's got to be enough.
It had to be enough because if it was not, Harry was toast. Nobody was going to save him, so Harry had to save himself. His back might be against the wall, he was going to fight all he'd have to in order to get out of this mess.
"Well?"
"I wanted to understand, alright?"
The man paused. "Understand what?"
"Why you're obsessed with this story."
Rule one of being a seer: lie as little as possible. If Instector Granger was anything like his great-granddaughter, he'd spot any lie in his story in a second so Harry had no choice but to tell the truth.
All he needed to do was to satisfy the man's curiosity enough he'd story looking where Harry really didn't want him to.
A snort. "I thought that was obvious by now: a cabinet than burnt down until there was nothing but ashes in mere minutes, a man not even trying to save his work, me waking up without any memory on how I lost conciousness..."
"We told you: you entered Mr. Evans' room to check for the vanishing cabinet's bluepr-"
"That's a lie."
These words were said in a tone that made it clear he had no doubt about it.
"I would never go to Mr. Evans' room," he added. "Not without good reasons at the very least so what was I doing there in the first place?"
Harry looked at him a moment. "You tried to enter the storage room to see the cabinet though. Why wouldn't you-"
"I asked a street kid to do it because I needed an excuse to give him one pound," he interrupted with a roll of his eyes. "Now, I'm not saying I didn't try to discover how this whole vanishing cabinet worked but going to Mr. Evans' room to find blueprints he most certainly made? That'd be cheating. "
Harry drew back.
"Cheating?" he numbly repeated.
The inspector paused before looking away. "Well, it'd defeat the purpose, wouldn't it?" he tried to explain himself. "I mean, if I were to get the answer like this I'd- Hold on a minute, who is interrogating whom there?"
But Harry wasn't listening anymore. And soon enough his mouth opened in shock.
A man who'd regularly go see magic shows and harrass a magician into revealing his secrets. A person who'd go to great lengths to find out how it was done and yet hadn't all things considered bothered them when Harry was making the other cabinet and just asked questions outside the theater rather than get inside or search the storage room for evidence. A man who'd refuse to get to the man's room when he had no problem with the rest of the theater. A police inspector saying he wouldn't do what Harry had accused him of because that'd be 'cheating'...
Harry couldn't help gapping as he finally saw the truth. "You don't hate Mr. Evans at all, do you? You're-You're his fan ."
Inspector Granger gave me a puzzled look. "In what way am I a means of keeping oneself cool?"
Harry hid his face behind his hands and moaned.
There was no doubt about it now. Robert Granger was one of these people who needed to show everybody they got it, they knew how it worked and don't you want to know how it's done? Here, let me tell you even though you haven't asked me anything. He was one of these men who'd write an entire roman on how his favourite character did something or tell the author what Sherlock Holmes did in the latest story was just out of character at this point. He was that person who'd go to every show and seek the magician only to tell him he has figured out how the whole thing worked.
Hermione's ancestor wasn't actually putting his bushy mustache in Mr. Evans' businness because he hated him and believed him to be some criminal. At the end of the day, Inspector Granger was harrassing Mr. Evans for the same reason he was harrassing Conan Doyle. He was one of these annoying fans who kept pestering the people they admired, going to ridiculous lengths just to get their notice and yet meant no harm because, as far as they were concerned, it was just a game they enjoyed playing.
Harry wouldn't be surprised at this point to learn what Inspector Robert Granger was truly seeking more than the truth was just Mr. Evans telling him: well done inspector, ten points to Scotland Yard.
Inspector Granger dazedly shook his head. "You honestly think I'm doing all this because I hate Mr. Evans? I'm merely doing my job. Somebody comes and attacks a policeman before attempting arsony? Of course the police is going to get involved and try to get to the bottom of this. It's the opposite that'd be disturbing."
Harry paused.
The man had been extremely annoying and causing quite a lot of troubles ever since he's started investigating all this mess. But at the same time he was the only one who was at least trying to do something about the situation the Evans were in. Mr. Evans was just taking the brunt of it and letting wizards harass him when he was just doing his job, Mrs. Evans was just gritting her teeth and trying to support her husband the best she could, and Harry for how much he disliked the situation was trying to cover everything up.
The man seemed to realize he was reconsidering the entire situation for he told him, "You realize your silence is only protecting the ones responsible for this mess, don't you? You're not protecting your relatives, you're not even protecting yourself, you're protecting them ."
Harry flinched.
It was not as if he had a choice, Harry weakly protested. Were Harry to attempt something, it was certain it'd be the Evans who'd pay for his recklessness. Moreover, Harry couldn't afford to make waves and he wasn't the Boy-Who-Lived in this era. He could try to shout this was unfair all he liked, nobody was going to listen to a nobody like him and it wouldn't change anything.
But no matter how hard he tried to convince himself, all these reasons sounded more like excuses.
Inspector Granger leant back in his chair and checked his watch. "It is getting rather late. Considering I intend to go home before sunset, I suppose we could end this little interrogation and call it a day."
Harry abruptly left his musing and incredulously looked at him. "You're not going to arrest me?"
The inspector got up and grabbed his coat. "For what?"
Harry spluttered, "W-Well… The desk. I-"
"Oh that?" Finishing putting his coat on, he shrugged. "You didn't get anything valuable so I don't see why I'd waste my entire night filling all that paperwork. I'm going to have a very long day tomorrow so I need all the sleep I can get. I keep that weapon though, so you should hurry up before Jack the Ripper comes after you."
It was not fair.
That was the thought that kept eating Harry as he was walking to the Evans' home.
He kicked the rock on his path in rage.
It was not fair!
Why couldn't that inspector be some horrible person like the Dursleys? The inspector was supposed to be some hound who'd harm the Evans if he knew the truth, he wasn't supposed to be a decent man! The one person who probably was a decent authority figure, why did Harry have to find him now?
Harry was still brooding when he came back. And he was still brooding during dinner. And it was in a tight voice he told Mr. Evans what happened and what he's found, though he didn't mention the part where he got caught searching the man's desk.
Mr. Evans seemed thoughtful for a moment. "I had a hunch that dear inspector liked harrassing me but it's nice to get some confirmation. Am I supposed to feel flattered though? Because, well..."
Harry gritted his teeth. "He probably believes he's helping you and- Why are we protecting that wizard who destroyed your cabinet?" he exclaimed. "Like, really, why?"
"You should know the answer to that one: the statute of secrecy must be protected."
"But not like this! It's not- It's not supposed to-"
Harry wanted to pull his hair and scream in rage. Finally he opted to punch the wall.
He hissed in pain.
"Wall wins," Mr. Evans remarked.
Harry suddenly felt very tired. "It's not supposed to work this way," he murmured.
The statute of secrecy was supposed to protect wizards from muggles who'd try to use or harm them if they knew magic was real. It wasn't supposed to give wizards like the one who came to cause troubles a mean to escape justice.
Mr. Evans sighed. "If we're being honest an instant, the idea of two separate worlds living in the same place is inherently flawed. Of course situations such as this one are going to arise from time to time. Question is: are you going to sacrifice all the good the statute of secrecy did for some trouble a bully causes? Are you going to go against the common good for a few individuals nobody really cares about? Secrets like the ones magicians like me and wizards like you are keeping must sometimes be protected, whatever the cost."
Harry was still ruminating these words when he went to bed.
The idea Harry had to weight the situation they were in with the statute of secrecy was unbearable. The idea of letting good people getting harrassed by bad people in the name of some common good was disgusting. The very fact Harry was supposed to condone this and hinder a man trying to help them made the situation even worse.
And at the same time the statute of secrecy had to be protected. If muggles were to find out about wizards a broken cabinet and a bastard like that Greengrass would be the least of their problem. They just couldn't risk it either.
But if both options were terrible, which one was Harry supposed to pick?
Harry tossed and turned the whole night, trying to find out which answer was the right one and wondering if it was in the name of some common good nobody in his time had done anything against all the injustices Harry and his friends' have witnessed.
Inspector Granger didn't come to the theater the next day.
"Well, he does have a job," Mr. Evans remarked when Harry pointed it out. "The good inspector's probably harrassing some petty thief as we speak. It's that or he's finally decided to give up."
Harry doubted it. If the man was remotely like his friend, he'd never give up.
Mr. Evans sighed. "Yes, I'm not holding my breath either but, you know, one can dream. Come on now, the vanishing cabinet needs to be ready for tomorrow night."
At this point, all Harry and Mr. Evans needed to do was to make a few adjustment to make sure the cabinet would be fully operationnable for the big day.
When Mr. Evans declared the vanishing cabinet finished Harry couldn't stop a wide grin. And it wasn't without some pride that Harry looked at their vanishing cabinet.
Perhaps it was just in his head but it now seemed like this vanishing cabinet was glowing with some aura, as if there was something more to it than wood and nail, something other.
"That's a good sign," the magician commented. "If you believe it's going to work, then it most certainly is. Also I wouldn't be too surprised if that was indeed the case: when somebody put his heart and soul into something, he always leaves a part of himself behind so it is just possible some latent magic got into the wood."
Harry pondered these words. "Wouldn't that be troublesome with the Ministry? I mean, if I put my magic-"
"I seriously doubt anybody will ever bother looking at such level. And it's just an imprint, an echo. Condamning you over something like this would be like blaming a walker for leaving footprints behind. No, the audience will only get the impression there is more to it, though they will never know why. That being said, now that we're back in business we have to prepare tomorrow show."
Harry nodded and helped the rest of evening with the rehearsal. When the woman he now knew was the man's accomplice entered into the cabinet only to vanish Harry couldn't help grinning, a furious feeling of vinctive pleasure filling his veins as he saw that Greengrass hadn't managed to take that away.
"I must admit I was feeling a little worried," the accomplice told them once she reappeared. "But I'm glad to be proven wrong. Hopefully this one is not going the share the other's fate."
Harry's smile stilled. "What?"
The woman turned around. "Oh sorry, I shouldn't have said that. I know there's no reason at all to believe we'd get another accident like last week but-"
As the woman began telling the magician she'd always been a little supersticious and couldn't help seeing some terrible omen in that accidental fire, Harry finally realized with something akin to dread that the same wizard who had attacked him the week before could very well come back tomorrow night and destroy eveything they've built.
He could come back, and Harry would have no other choice but to watch him burn down his cabinet.
With his luck, the odds that Brutus Greengrass would come back tomorrow were close to 100%.
One reason the wizard had destroyed the cabinet must have been to stop Mr. Evans' show. It should be only natural he'd come back to make sure his plan had worked.
Harry cursed himself.
It should have been obvious. Harry would have realized that ages ago. But he had been so focused on trying to insure Inspector Granger wouldn't find out about magic he had outright ignored te elephant in the room.
Tomorrow night, Harry and Mr. Evans were going to meet Auror Greengrass again. And like the last time, Harry wouldn't be allowed to use magic and defend himself.
"I've got to thank you," Mr. Evans commented as they walked home. "Your help has been precious."
Harry turned to the man. "It was the least I could do. I mean, you're letting me stay at your place."
"Still, you've worked hard during what should be your vacations. I think you should know I appreciate it."
Harry couldn't help feeling touched. "Thank you, sir."
"And I think you've earned some well-deserved rest. I've talked with Madam Malkins' and she agrees with me. So she kindly told me to tell you that you do not have to go to work tomorrow."
Harry sharply turned his head. "What?"
"You have the whole day off. So you can go do whatever wizards your age enjoy doing, see your friends if you want."
Harry dazedly shook his head. "But the show tomorrow-"
"Oh don't worry. You've done all the work I needed, I can take it from there."
"But-"
"I insist. Don't come to the theater tomorrow."
Of course, Harry numbly realized, if he had only figured out this wizard was going to be there not even ten minutes ago, the man mustn't have been as blind as Harry. It was in fact very likely he's known this for a long time.
Harry thought about protesting, about shouting he wasn't going to just stay back when the man would have to face the wizard.
But as Harry was about to open his mouth and just do that an ugly thought came.
You'd only be an hindrance.
Harry wasn't allowed to use magic. And even if he were to attempt to stop that wizard without magic, that Auror most certainly wouldn't hesitate using his wand. With the trace on him, Harry being in the theater tomorrow night would mean certain expulsion. And Harry couldn't be expulsed.
No, there was nothing Harry could do. He had no choice but to let Mr. Evans face that man alone and all the work they've done vanish in smoke.
The man opened the door to the building. "After you."
Harry numbly looked at the man in front of him.
The day before he had been told situations like these were to be expected. That they were the price that had to be paid to protect the statute of secrecy. He had been told about some common good that had to be weighted.
But could Harry really do it? Could he really let this situation unfold and look away?
And was it really the right choice?
"Harry?"
Harry startled at the sound of his given name and incredulously looked at the green-eyed man.
The man seemed to notice his slip. "Sorry, I shouldn't have-"
"No, no, it's okay. I don't mind." He violently shook his head. "I just… I was just thinking I could try to see what muggle London looked like at night."
The man frowned before finally chuckling. "You want to do to the pub, don't you?"
"Yes."
The man laughed and handed him the key. "Try not to come back too late or too wasted will you? Because if you do, Maggie will literally jump on you. And let me tell you, she can be terrifying."
It was a good thing Harry had no intention to drink then.
One thing about New Scotland Yard was that the place was never closed. Criminals rarely slept at night after all and when Harry entered the building and said he needed to speak to Inspector Granger nobody made any mention of the time it was.
When Harry arrived in front of the door to Inspector Granger's office, the yelling at the other side of the door made it clear the man wasn't alone.
"I told you yesterday to drop it!" a deep masculine voice screamed.
"But-"
"Do you realize the situation you've put the whole department in, Granger?"
"But-"
"Let me tell you, it's a miracle Lady Carmichael is not considering pressing charges! What were you even thinking?"
"Her fingerprints were on the murder weapon!" Inspector Granger's deperate voice exclaimed.
"Oh, you and your fingerprints! Do you really believe they are worth anything?"
"They played a vital role to prove Francisca Rojas was guilty and-"
"That was in Argentina ! Do you really believe anybody remotely sane here is going to accept that ridiculous idea these so-called fingerprints are unique? Grow up, Granger! This is the real world and we're not in one of these stupid stories you like reading!"
The man behind the door kept shouting and copiously insulting Inspector Granger. And the man's attempts to defend himself got weaker and weaker until Harry couldn't hear anything.
"You better not do something like that again, you hear me?" the voice finally hissed. "You step out of line one more time, you're fired."
The door abruptly opened and a pudgy man in uniform left the door mumbling a few insults behind his mustache.
When Harry looked at the man's office, Inspector Granger's head was down and everything in him was shouting defeat.
Even his mustache seemed down.
"Oh it's you," he said in a dead voice when he spotted Harry. He pinched his nose and deeply breathed. Would you- Would you please give me a minute? I've got- I've got something to finish first and- and-"
Harry uneasily looked at the man who seemed close to tears.
"You knew, didn't you?" Harry softly said.
"Know what?"
Inspector Granger had known Brutus Greengrass would come back. If it had taken Harry this long to figure it out, he must have realized this as soon as he had seen the vanishing cabinet burning down.
He hadn't just been harassing them because he was too curious for his own good, Inspector Granger had known they could be in danger and time might be playing against him.
"What do you want to know?"
The man blinked, as if he couldn't understand what Harry's just said.
Finally he tiredly whispered, "What was so special about that vanishing cabinet?"
Harry paused.
"I mean, think about it a second, that man had many options to hurt Mr. Evans. He could have destroyed any of the artefacts that were in his room, so why going to a locked storage room? Why using means insuring there would nothing left of it? Why going to such lengths to destroy what should be just a cabinet like any other?"
Harry painfully closed his eyes. "You think the vanishing cabinet was hiding some sort of secret."
He self-depreciately chuckled. "Well, it's either that of that arsonist thinks magic is real and he needed to destroy it at all cost."
Harry chuckled as well.
It was strange in a way. The vanishing cabinet had been destroyed, it had effetively vanished and yet it was because of its very destruction the statute of secrecy was endangered. It was not when it existed it had been a threat to the statute of secrecy, it was when that Auror had attempted to hide evidence of the wizarding world that Robert Granger has been given undeniable proof there was a secret they were all hiding from him.
"Well sorry to tell you, you were right: it was just a cabinet with a trap on the bottom."
The man abruptly raised his head and numbly looked at him.
Harry bit his lips.
He knew what madness it was. This was throwing the book out of the window and jumping from the top of a building without a broom and without the insurance somebody was going to save him.
But there was something inheritantly flawed with the whole thing, with separating people between wizards and non-wizards. With telling Harry he was supposed to support somebody like that Brutus and treat an otherwise decent man like Inspector Granger as if he was the real threat.
"What are you saying there?"
Harry considered his next words. "What's that thing Sherlock Holmes said about the improbable and the impossible?"
The answer was immediate, as if it's been learned by heart. "Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth." A pause, then curiously, "Why?"
It was taking a leap of faith. But at the same time it wasn't as hard as it had first looked like.
Because, at the end of the day, Harry knew Hermione had inherited from that man more than her bossiness and her bushy hair.
"Maybe you've eliminated too early something you thought was impossible and was just extremely improbable."
