Chapter Three

The Chart and the Infiltrator

1

"How are you Harry?" said a slow, deep voice.

Harry looked up to see Kingsley Shacklebolt standing in his office doorway. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Agape's head swiftly look up from her papers as well.

"Superb," Harry replied, smiling at his old friend, and present boss. "You?"

"Can't say the same. Crocker's lead on that Optimus, Cane, turned out to be a flop. However, I'd be a lot happier if I had some information on the Blood Traitors."

Harry's smile broadened to a true grin. "We've made some plausible connections that pretty much prove that our suspects are connected with each other."

It had been a week since the interview with Drake, and six days since Harry's meeting with Remus. He and Agape had done some digging since then – including going to Hogwarts to talk with Headmistress McGonagall, Harry's old teacher. She probably gave them more information than anyone.

"Let's hear it," Kingsley said excitedly.

Harry pulled a roll of parchment out of a drawer in his desk and nodded to Agape to get the files they had as he unfurled it on the desk top. Along with the files, a beaming Agape brought Kingsley a chair so he could sit across from Harry. She loved seeing Kingsley because she'd had a crush on him ever since he had complemented one of her Egyptian dishes she brought to the Office Christmas party. Even Harry hadn't eaten any of the stuff. It smelled strange and spicy, with a name that actually made more sense in Parseltongue than it did in Egyptian.

"Alright," Harry said, putting a finger on the chart he made to connect the suspects. "This explains everything we know so far. Our first real witness was Alton Drake." he tapped on the name. "He told us about Bireley and Thorpe. Ferris Thorpe," he pointed to that name and the information written below it, "is still in hiding from the Optimates – or at least his family is. Apparently Alton was in the same safe house with the Thorpes for a few weeks before being relocated to Bireley's place. Logan Bireley's life was pretty much ruined by the Optimates, and we think he met Thorpe through Drake. Furthermore, all three of them have met with Augustus Schmitt in the past."

"Who is this bloke, and how did you find out about him?" Kingsley asked, indicating Schmitt's name with no information below it. "Last I heard, you only had three names and some woman you can't find a file for."

"Drake affirmed that he knew Schmitt during his interview," Harry told him. When Kingsley didn't look impressed, he swiftly continued: "He's Garry Moore's assistant. And each time he met with these people, he was taking things into his own hands without authorization from Moore – so he was looking to his own business, not the Ministry's. And get this, he's got 'really good instincts about Optimates,' according to his coworkers. Nearly every time these Blood Traitors come into the picture, he's on the scene. Until recently."

"Why not recently?" Kingsley asked. "Some inside source cut him off?"

"You might think that," Harry said, "but he still gives Moore some unexplainable tips. He just hasn't been showing up on the scene anymore."

"The Office has gotten wise to him."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, but from what I hear, he's been doing this for at least seven or eight years now."

"Nine, actually," Agape added in an uncharacteristically hesitant voice. It must have been a while since she'd last seen Kingsley judging by how shy she was acting.

"Nine, then," Harry corrected himself before looking back at Kingsley. "But, just like you said, he's obviously got an inside man. If I could find out who that person was, this could go somewhere very interesting."

"So what are you going to do?" his boss inquired, grinning again.

"Well, today I though I'd start by pushing Schmitt's buttons a little – they say he's a real nervous guy. Easily flustered. Then I thought I'd check out another name that came up in our files: some friend of Dumbledore's." He paused and pointed to another name on the chart that had very little information beneath it. "Which, reminds me. Kingsley, did you ever know a Creighton Squires from the Order?"

Kingsley thought for a moment, but shook his head. "Not that I recall. Maybe you should ask Lupin about him. He was there with the originals."

Harry winced slightly. "I hoped you wouldn't say that. He's been pretty reluctant to give me information recently," he admitted. Harry was still a bit miffed by Remus's lack of response to his requests for Bireley's files.

"Try McGonagall, then," Kingsley suggested. "She probably knew Dumbledore longer than all of us."

Harry nodded then. "Sounds like a plan." He got up and walked Kingsley to the door on his way out. "I'll keep you posted."

"You better. If these Traitors turn out to be a threat to our operations, we need to get rid of them, and fast."

With that, Kingsley turned back toward his office down the hall, Agape crying breathlessly over Harry's shoulder, "Have a nice day, Mr. Shacklebolt!"

Harry gave her a look, which she responded to in a much more normal tone of voice.

"What? All I said was have a nice day. Why are you looking at me like that?"

Kingsley's last statement bothered Harry. It reminded him of when the Ministry wanted to get rid of him. Of course, the whole place had been under different management back then.

Still, when those words came out of Kinsley's mouth, of all people, it was irksome. He and Harry were still a part of the Order of the Phoenix, where they not? They both knew that the Ministry hadn't viewed the Order as allies until they needed help in the final battle against Voldemort. Just because the Blood Traitors weren't working with the Ministry didn't mean they were working against it.

Harry made a mental note to keep that in mind from now on. His assignment was to investigate the Blood Traitors to ensure they weren't anti-Ministry, not to pursue them as criminals. He rolled his eyes, realizing he was in agreement with what Lupin had said about them: They were more likely to be friendly toward the Order.

Turning back into the office, he "accio"ed the chart and it flew into his hands from his desk. "I'll take this with me in case I need to add something later today," he told Agape. "I don't know when I'll be back, but it should be before you leave."

"Okay," Agape answered distractedly as she sat down in her chair and rummaged through a drawer. "So you plan on seeing Schmitt, McGonagall, then Squires?" Harry nodded. "Shall I tell McGonagall and Squires then?"

"Yes," Harry agreed. "I don't know how long it'll take with Schmitt, though, so don't bother with times."

He left her to her work and stuffed the chart into his pocket as he walked down the hall. As soon as he looked up again, however, there was a hard impact on his left shoulder and he bounced off of someone.

Taking a step back, Harry found himself looking at a swarthy skinned man with a surprised expression on his handsome face.

"Sorry," Harry said, "wasn't looking where I was going."

The man smiled and looked Harry straight in the eye. "Me neither. Don't worry about it." Then he went on his way.

Harry had noticed two things about the man that stood out. Firstly, his clothes were not Ministry robes, so he obviously didn't work there. It wasn't so unusual to see; he could be visiting someone. The second thing was that he never once looked at the scar on Harry's forehead. Since people had been doing it for thirty-seven years, Harry now noticed it more when it didn't happen. Almost no one wouldn't recognize him, and the only people that didn't look for the mark were people that knew him and had gotten used to it.

You're over analyzing things again, Harry told himself. You're still in Auror mode. He was just some bloke.

He continued on his way without further incident, turning the corner into the Office of Investigations five minutes later. He walked all the way to the back where Garrison Moore's office was located. Garry was the Head of the office of Investigations and Augustus Schmitt, it just so happens, was his assistant.

How convenient for the Blood Traitors, Harry thought to himself. If this guy proved to be part of their group, they would be very well informed indeed. Schmitt would naturally know loads about his office and what goes on inside of it, being that he looked over and sorted every paper for his boss.

He entered Schmitt's office, which was the antechamber to Moore's. The door between the two was open and Moore looked up from his desk.

"Mr. Potter," He said gruffly, "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I believe 'grief' is a more appropriate word, Moore, but I'm not here to see you, for once. I was looking for your assistant, Augustus," Harry told him.

"He took an early lunch break," said Moore, dismissively.

"You don't mind if I wait then, do you?"

Moore scowled at Harry as he replied, "Of course not," and used his wand to slam the dividing door.

Harry heaved a sigh and collapsed into the chair behind Schmitt's desk. Schmitt most likely had a thirty minute lunch break, and that would give Harry ample time to rummage through his desk. He opened one of the top drawers and examined the papers inside.

There was nothing concerning his case, just a few notes on vampires and petty crimes. He opened the drawers below, used for filing. He flipped through the files and found what he was looking for: there were at least three files about nothing but the Optimates. He picked one up and looked it over. Nothing that he didn't already know. The second and third turned out the same. This must be what he was working on with Moore because Harry was already aware of all of this information so far. He looked at some files in the very back, but to no avail.

Feeling disappointed and getting impatient, he leaned back in the chair and glanced at the top of the desk. On it was a pad of customized business stationary. Top and center of the paper was Schmitt's home address (in case he needed to be contacted at home) – Schmitt was definitely a workaholic. Harry tore off the top leaflet and pocketed it.

Staring up at the ceiling in thought, Harry suddenly froze. Had he not just put the stationary in the same pocket he had put his chart in? He couldn't remember feeling it when he added the other paper. Shoving his hand in his pocket he found that the chart was missing.

He was out of the room and back in front of his office in two minutes flat. There was no chart to be found: not on the floor in the hall, not around his desk, not around Agape's desk. His assistant merely tilted her chair back to allow him more room to search as she continued her work as best she could.

When he stood up straight again she asked, "Anything I can get you, Harry?"

"Have you seen the chart?"

"You have it in your pocket," she said, unphased.

"No. I don't." He was standing very still now, watching her calmness with growing frustration.

"Are you sure it's not in your other pocket?"

"I'm a bloody Auror. Don't you think I've already checked?"

"It's happened before."

"I could use little more assistance from my assistant, if you don't mind terribly," Harry growled.

Agape rose and helped him look, but neither of them came up with anything.

"I don't see what the big deal is, Harry," she said, readjusting her long dark hair after she closed a file cabinet on it. "We can make another one."

"It is a big deal, if I'm right," he told her in a very serious voice.

"About what?" She knew he wasn't overreacting now. Something was definitely wrong.

"The Blood Traitors have it. They know what we know."

"How?" Agape said in slight alarm.

"A man, who definitely didn't work here, bumped into me and must have taken it," Harry explained. "And it would make since, because Schmitt had just left his office when I got there. He must have taken his lunch 'early' because he knew I was coming."

Agape shook her head slightly. "How could he have gotten a warning from someone that fast? He would have had to go the same distance you did to get there. It takes longer than that to write and send one of the flying memos."

"They must have a faster form of communication."

"Like what? There are no fireplaces. Memos would take too long. It's too hard to conceal even the smallest owls, which you would have seen if it flew over your head anyway. What else is there? A bull horn?"

"I don't know, but I aim to find out very soon," Harry told her. "I'm going to find Schmitt. McGonagall can can wait until tomorrow."

With those words he left once more. After hey had stolen a vital piece of information from him, Harry could not believe the Blood Traitors were exactly allies. Maybe they had something to hide after all...

2

Only twenty minutes later, Agape had informed McGonagall that Harry wouldn't be able to see her, organized everything that needed to be done that day, and put it in a neat stack on her desk before sending it all away with her wand. She decided she wanted some lunch before getting started on anything else, so she grabbed her purse and headed out. Her heals clipped out the firm beat of her long strides on the floor as she went down the empty hall. She only came upon one other person, a swarthy and very attractive man dressed in civilian clothes inside the lift.

She moved inside next to him, giving him a winning smile, which he returned charmingly. She was almost as tall as he was – but was relieved when she realized it was just her heels. Standing flat-footed she was eye to eye with Harry, so she was understandably self-conscious about her height.

"Hello," she said to the man.

"Hallo. Wie geht es Ihnen?" he said back.

"Uh... Just lovely. You?"

"Ich bin gut. Wurde Sie mögen etwas Bier?"

"Um... I'm guessing that's German... that's great. Do you speak English by any chance?"

"Englisch ist für Ziegen."

"I see." The lift stopped at the atrium and Agape made her move to leave, saying, "Have a nice day."

"Bluttraitorsrichtlinie!" called cheerfully after her.

Agape had to laugh at herself. It was just her luck to meet a very attractive, friendly, and cultural man, who also happened to be completely insane.

Then, she stopped dead in her tracks. Harry had said that the man he bumped into earlier 'definitely didn't work for the Ministry'. The German man most certainly did not work here. When she whirled around, however, he was already gone. His speedy disappearance only convinced her that he knew more than he should and was trying to leave as swiftly as possible.

Oh, no, she thought with determination, he's not getting away that easily.

3

First it was a pub in London. Then it was the streets of London. After that, it was near the Leaky Cauldron, were he finally lost Schmitt. Harry had been so busy tailing the man all day, trying to corner him, that by the time he got to Diagon Alley, he was starving for lack of a decent lunch. He stopped at a a newly added bakery across from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes and hoped he might spot his target again.

As he ate, he peered over at the window display of Fred and George Weasley's joke shop. There was a bright purple broom that gave every bit of evidence of grandeur to the untrained eye, but was really only a trick broom that would turn into some random form five feet from the ground. "Watch your friends flop, with a swoop and a pop," were the words the sign bore beneath it. Harry was strongly reminded of the Weasley's fake wands from his school days.

When he was trough, the waitress came out and took his empty plate from the table. "Have a good evening, Mr. Potter," she said, beaming at him. As usual, everyone knew who he was.

Evening? Harry thought, it was only the afternoon. He had been so distracted he hadn't even realized the sky was darkening. "You, too", he replied to the waitress absentmindedly. "What time is it?" he added before she left.

"A quarter 'til six, last time I looked," she said, disappearing behind the wall that divided the kitchen from the dining area.

It was time to go find Mr. Squires, as planned. He would have other opportunities to find Schmitt.

Harry got up and headed for the café that had been the setting of the 'incident' which started his investigation. The Walnut Café was only half intact now, after the explosion it suffered last week. The entire restaurant front was destroyed and the floors above were obviously supported by magic to keep them from collapsing until the ground floor could be repaired. The debris strewn area was covered with a thick layer of dust that made it look very dull compared to the evening sunset beginning to appear over Diagon Alley. Harry looked around for any sign of people before striding into the open wall that used to be an entrance to the café.

He made his way to the back wall – still intact, thankfully – to the stars there. The stairwell had been cleared of dust and fully repaired for safety reasons. The upstairs hall was also clean and seemingly unharmed. Harry stopped there, wondering how he should announce his presence to the apartment's inhabitants without a door to knock on. He was just about to call out for someone's attention, when he stopped and thought everything was far too quiet for anyone to be here. Pondering this, he realized that it wasn't too quiet for someone to be here. Someone being very, very quiet, indeed.

Stealthily, he moved close to the wall on his left, approaching the nearest door as silent as humanly possible. There were no voices, and no signs of movement, nothing to really tell him that anyone was in the home, except for the overwhelming stillness.

The door was ajar (the biggest reason he had chosen to get closer) so he would be able to peer inside without being spotted immediately. Slowly and cautiously, he turned his head around the door frame just enough to see inside the crack. It was no use, there was a light on inside, but no visual to be found. Wand at the ready, he quietly pushed the door open and stepped inside. What he saw made him freeze.

It didn't all register at once. At first he only saw the woman: pale blond and wearing a white trench coat. Immediately afterwards he saw the still form lying in the chair before her, and the profile of the dead man's face as it tilted back, mouth gaping open, over the top of his wing-backed chair.

The woman whirled around, her pale eyes registering her shock at finding Harry behind her before quickly narrowing. From that fist look, he knew her face – her beauty, her fierceness, and just how formidable a threat she truly was.

They raised their wands, but she wasn't fast enough. He stunned her in the blink of an eye. He felt someone behind him, and, without time to take a breath, stunned that person as well. Harry couldn't even get a glimpse of the second attacker's features (though he knew him to be a man) before he was face to face with another person – but only for a split second. Harry recognized the face of the dark man in the Ministry before a flash of red shot between his eyes and blackness engulfed him.

(In very bad German, "Hallo. Wie geht es Ihnen?" means: "Hello, how are you?" "Ich bin gut. Wurde Sie mögen etwas Bier?" means: "I'm good. Would you like some beer?" "Englisch ist für Ziegen." means: "English is for goats" And "Bluttraitorsrichtlinie!" means: "Blood Traitors rule!" My Sister suggested that I make Agape reply to him in Egyptian, but I can't find a translation for that language. Ginny shows up in the next chapter so check in a gain soon!)