Harry Potter Fan Fiction

Chapter VI

Chasing the Storm

Harry pulled open the heavy wooden door that belonged to the Leaky Cauldron. Heat washed over his face and instantly began to melt the tiny snowflakes that had collected in his messy black hair. The door shut behind him with an audible thump. This time, the bar was not nearly as busy. There were a few patrons here and there, but most were older wizards and one or two older witches. There was no doubt that these had been some of the leaky Cauldron's original patrons.

"Harry! Ron!"

"Hiya, Neville, looks like you've finally got a break around here," stated Ron as he sat down at the bar. He surveyed the lounge area. "Where's Hannah?"

"Christmas shopping," said Neville cheerfully as he continued to wipe the bar. "That's why its so empty. Pretty much everyone is just passing through. You'd think they stop and get a drink, but no its always "not in front of the kids' or 'stop harassing me'. I swear its getting harder and harder for a bloke to earn an honest Galleon."

Harry snorted.

"Sorry, Neville, but we've got to be going too. We're on Ministry business," Harry said as he composed himself.

Neville's face fell.

"Aw, well you'll at least stop back in on your way through and visit your mate. Get a drink. Come on… For old times," prodded Neville.

"Sure, it couldn't hurt," answered Ron as he stood up from the bar. "We'll come back around dark."

Harry and Ron walked across the lounge, winding their way through the tables to the back door, and into the alleyway behind the bar.

They spent their afternoon trudging through the ice and snow in Diagon Alley, which was made even more miserable by the holiday season. Despite the cold, everywhere wizarding families and shoppers lined the streets, waiting to get into shops that were already packed to capacity.

They visited second hand robe shops, pawn shops, and even junk shops for good measure. However, they were unsuccessful in locating even a whisper about a purse similar to the one carried by Melissa tourney. No one had ever seen it before, or her, for that matter.

Before long, Ron was complaining about frozen toes and the cold sting of snow in his boots. He was ready to give up when Harry came up with one last idea.

"Come on. Let's go down Knockturn Alley. Those are the only shops we haven't checked yet."

"Ugh," groaned Ron. "Come on, Harry we've been at it for hours. I'm sopping wet and bloody cold. Can't we just pick it up in the morning when the storm dies down a little?"

But Harry didn't seem to be listening. He was already half way to the alley.

"Ugh," Ron groaned again as he grudgingly followed behind.

Where Diagon Alley was bustling with festive decorations, Knockturn Alley was barren and desolate.

Thank Merlin, Ron thought.

They had no trouble finding their way to the only pawnshop on the street. A rusted gold bell chimed as Harry opened the door. Ron stepped in behind him and began stomping the snow from his boots. Even with all of the ruckus, no one appeared.

"Where do you think they've, gone?" Ron asked.

Harry shrugged.

They walked up to the counter and waited. When no one appeared, Ron hit an old, well-worn bell on the counter.

"Hello?" he called. Still no one appeared. "Not a friendly lot, are they?"

"Let's have a look about, Shall we?" instructed Harry.

The shop was dark and dim, a feature which seemed to be a trademark of all the shops in Knockturn Alley, although Harry had to admit, this particular shop didn't appear as sinister as some its neighbors. It had its fair share of dark and cursed items, he saw, but mostly this shop seemed to contain second hand furniture and clothing, with a few dark leaning items propped up on shelves here and there. Harry and Ron strolled through the isles, surveying the old musky shelves, thick with dust.

"Hello?" Ron called again, craning his neck to see into the back storeroom. He walked over to the threshold and stuck his head in.

"Harry…" Ron whispered as he stepped over the threshold and into the back hall. "Look…"

Ron walked over and touched a suspicious looking unmarked crate. He took a peak inside.

"Powdered Dragon bone!" he said in shock. "Enough to make us richer than 10 Malfoys."

Harry followed behind for a closer look. The back storeroom was wide; the ceiling was so high it was draped in darkness. It was large enough to fit at least 6 or 7 of the storefronts within. Harry knew he should not have been surprised. He had learned long ago that magical things were not always what they appeared.

"Look… in that pile of stuff…" Ron pointed.

And then Harry saw it - a small lavender handbag, with gold clasps, thrown carelessly on top of a box.

As if from nowhere, an old man with stooped shoulders appeared from the shadows.

Harry and Ron both started, but Harry was the first to recover.

"Er- hello I'm Deputy Head of the Auror's Office, Harry Potter, and this is my partner Auror Ronald Weasley. We just had some questions, if you'd be so kind to answer."

The gentlemen said nothing for so long, that Harry thought he might be hard of hearing. So he cleared his throat and began again.

"Sir, I'm Lieutenant, -"

"I heard ya the first time boy." The man grumbled through black and rotting teeth. "What'd ya want?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Ron frown.

"Well, we're looking for a purse-"

"Haven't seen it."

"But, you don't even know what it looks like!" Ron said indignantly.

"Don't have to see it. Nobody's come in here lookin to sell no purse," answered the store clerk defiantly through crossed arms.

"Really?" asked Harry. "I noticed you have a lot of interesting items in this storeroom. Shall I call my Ministry friends and have them have a look?"

At that the store clerk suddenly became visibly nervous; his eyes darted to the door and then back to Harry.

"Alright, so?" admitted the store clerk grudgingly. "A fellow might have come in here, tryin to sell a purse like the one you blokes are lookin for. He if stole it, I had no part of it."

"Listen, we don't want you, and we don't care what else you've got in here. Just tell us who came in with the purse."

The store clerk wrung his hands. His eyes darted to the floor and then to the door and finally back at Harry, defeated.

"It was a ragged fellow. From the smell of him, he came straight out of the sewer. Tattered rags he had on. Clearly he had no idea what the purse was worth, so I bought it off him for 30 sickles. He if stole it, I had no part of it. I bought it off him fair and square."

"Yeah, yeah," Ron cut in.

"Do you remember anything distinctive about him?"

"Well he had dirty, brown hair to about here. And he just had that look about him… you know… those werewolf types."

"We appreciate your help, sir," said Harry. "But we'll have to confiscate the purse. It's evidence."

"You're welcome to it… for a price," The store clerk stood a little straighter; his confidence was quickly returning.

"A price?!" asked Ron outrage etched on his face. Harry placed an arm across Ron's chest.

"How much?" asked Harry.

"10 Galleons."

"10 GALLEONS?!"

"It's well made, specially charmed, obviously in demand-" the store clerk ticked them off on his fingers.

"Well take it," Harry cut in. Ron's mouth dropped open in awe…

"But, Harry…" Ron started.

"It's fine, Ron."

Harry pulled out his coin purse and began to count the change. The store clerk licked his lips eagerly as he watched Harry count out 10 fat, gold galleons.

By the time they finally made it back out of the shop, Ron couldn't hold in his anger any longer.

"What the bloody hell did you do that for? The nerve of that guy! He's lucky we didn't haul him in ourselves for the amount of powdered dragon bone he had back there! That's easily a class B illegal substance."

Harry chuckled.

"But then you'd have even more paperwork on your desk, and on top of that, you'd have to wait in the cold for rest of the Department to get here." Harry grinned. "Trust me, this was for the best. You do remember those exploding galleons George came up with last summer?"

Ron laughed.

"Excellent. I always love it when bad guys get what they deserve."

"Come on then," said Harry. "We've got to get back to the Ministry. I need to coordinate the search for our werewolf."

Within the hour, supporting members of the Department of Magical Law enforcement had moved out in force. Harry had ordered that the entire sewer network under London and any known werewolf sanctuaries be searched inch by inch and any persons found be detained and questioned.

Harry remained behind at the Ministry in order to better coordinate the search efforts, pouring over city maps and examining diagrams of the city's sewer system. Witch Watchers had been dispatched across the city, scouring above and below, in search of their person of interest. Hit wizards, trained to storm criminal havens and apprehend dangerous suspects, had been placed on standby. Even patrol wizards had been pulled from their usual routes to assist in the search. Several hours had passed before an owl arrived with a simple message:

We found him.

Harry scrawled a short message in response.

Await back up.

He quickly jotted down the location to the other teams out in field.

"Come on, Ron," said Harry as he stood up and grabbed his jacket. "We've got him."

They apparated to the entrance of the sewer, a large drainage ditch, on the outskirts of the city. The bulk of the crew was already in place. Harry walked briskly to the camp, looking for one of his lead officers, who had been assigned to each squad. He didn't have to search long before, Sergeant James Milton, an overachiever, looking to make a name for himself, spotted Harry and made directly for him.

"Lieutenant Potter-"

"Have you seen, Crowley?" Harry cut in.

"He's on the front lines with the rest," answered Milton dismissively. "Mr. Potter, I'm afraid things might be a little more complicated than we had first anticipated."

Harry stopped walking. "Well?"

"By our best estimate, there are at least 20 werewolves grouped down there. Even if we take a few of them unawares, it is likely that once the alarm has been sounded, they will attempt to fight. An all out battle is most undesirable. If that happens, I'm afraid we don't have the numbers to over come those within, and man the perimeter to ensure no one escapes. I recommend that we wait and-"

"No, we don't have time to wait. The longer we wait the more likely he'll slip by us. We do this now."

"As you wish," answered Milton, although his voice betrayed his discontentment.

"Give the signal," Harry commanded. "Move in."

The first to enter were the teams of hit wizards, moving silently in the darkness. After a few minutes, the patrol wizards, followed. Harry and his team entered behind them. The darkness was absolute and oppressing. The drainage ditch was actually taller

Lumos.

Harry held his wand high in front of him. It would signal to the werewolves and whoever else inhabited this sewer that they were coming, but it was better than walking in blind. By now, the support teams had gone off ahead, their booming shouts indicating that the raid had begun. The sewer had come alive with noise. It seemed the alarm had been sounded, and those who were in a position to escape were certainly trying to do so. That was all to the best. The other teams Harry had posted at the other four exits should hold.

Should… Harry thought uneasily.

Suddenly the shouting intensified. Harry saw flashes of light bursting at the end of the far end of the cavern. A red blur flew past where Harry's head used to be as he dived behind a wall. He heard Ron cry out. Without even realizing it, his wand was in his hand. Everywhere he saw flashes of yellow, white, and red. He even saw one green flash, avada kedavra, barely miss one of the hit wizards up ahead. Harry leaned out from behind cover and saw their assailants - 6 tattered looking beings flinging spells ferociously at the other end of the cavern.

They must have realized they had been routed, and realized that their best chance was to blast their way out. Harry lined one in his sights.

Stupefy! he shouted.

His aim was true; a red bolt of light took the woman in the chest. He barely had time to celebrate before blue flashed by his face and sent him hurling back into cover. Ron was crouched across from him, cursing at the hem of his robes.

Harry looked back out from behind his cover. He saw that their foe was rallying; others who had been fleeing took up the fight, and had a platoon of patrol wizards pinned down. Harry cast his patronus; his elegant and graceful stag burst forth and took off. He had sent it for help, a message to the other four teams to enter and converge on the middle.

He attempted to stick his head out again but the flashes had intensified and seemed to be getting closer. Harry signaled Ron with three fingers. Ron gave a nod.

They waited several tense moments huddled against the slimy stone walls of the sewer before more shouts erupted from the entrance. The cavalry had arrived. Harry gave Ron the signal. Together, they took advantage of the enemy's surprise and disarray. Harry quickly dispatched two werewolves from behind as Ron took another in the chest, just as he was turning to face Harry. They ran forward together, rapidly casting spells, occasionally darting to the side to avoid return fire. Harry saw Ron take down another.

And then he ran across Harry's field of vision; a tattered wizard with shaggy brown hair darting in and out of cover.

"RON!" Harry shouted as pointed towards the target. He took off running, hoping that Ron was behind him. A bedraggled wizard appeared in front of Harry. His elongated fangs glistening with spit.

"STUPEFY!" Harry shouted.

The figure crumpled before he could even lift his wand.

His quarry was in front of him. Harry dived. Grabbing him about the middle, they went down in a tangle of limbs. Harry's wand went flying out of his hand. As he fell back, eyes wide with shock, the werewolf managed to let off a spell. Pain seared the side of Harry's face but he held on. They scuffled for dominance on the ground. Harry threw several punches as he attempted to get the upper hand. But he could not match the werewolf's superior strength. He finally won control rolled over on top of Harry. He wrapped his long fingers around Harry's neck, his dirty fingernails digging into his skin.

"Incarcerous!" Ron shouted. Ropes coiled tightly around the werewolf's hands and feet and he fell head first into the ground.

"Alright, Harry?" asked Ron as he held out a hand.

"Yeah," Harry answered, a struggling to catch his breath as Ron helped him to his feet. "Got me across the cheek." He wiped away a trickle of blood with his sleeve.

"Lieutenant Potter," Milton had arrived, grime covering his normally immaculate robes and perfectly placed blonde hair. "most of the sewer has been cleared. We have a few holdouts farther in, but they should be easily subdued. So far, we have 33 captured and no reported breaches of the perimeter."

"Great work. Prepare them all to be transported back to the ministry for processing," Harry commanded. He pointed at the man at his feet, still struggling against the ropes that bound his hands. "Except this one. Take him straight to interrogation."

They sat in one of the old dungeons in the bowels of the Ministry. Ron saw mist form in front of his face. Despite the cold, the werewolf was dressed sparingly. A bare chest showed underneath his trench coat, his black pants threadbare and faded.

And no shoes? Ron thought with a frown.

"Ralph Steinman." Harry said to Ron, as they watched him through the glass.

"He spent 5 years at Hogwarts until he got bitten. After that he dropped out, didn't even take his O.W.L.s. He had a couple of scrapes with the Ministry for petty theft, possession of stolen goods, and loitering. But there's nothing quite violent in his history is there?" Harry asked thoughtfully.

"Did the store clerk ID him?" Ron asked.

"Yeah, he says that's the guy who sold him the purse," Harry answered.

"Well then what are we waiting for?" asked Ron eagerly. "Let's get in there."

"Alright, then."

They walked into the interrogation chamber and took their seats across from the werewolf.

"Hello, Ralph."

The man, seated in a wooden chair with his hands bound in his lap, did not answer. He seemed determined not to make eye contact and so kept his eyes downcast, fiddling with his hands.

"So, Ralph, where were you on the night of December 2nd?" asked Ron, getting straight to the point.

"Me and my mates, we just needed some cash. We never hurt anybody," the man said defensively, never raising his eyes.

Harry and Ron exchanged looks. Ron leaned a little forward in his seat.

"So then, you're aware of why you're here?" asked Harry.

"Of course," Ralph answered defiantly, finally lifting his head. "That girl's picture's been all over the prophet."

"Did you kill her?" Ron asked, lacking in any sense of subtlety.

"No!," Ralph shouted so forcefully, that his words continued to echo off of the high stone walls.

"Well then tell us what happened," said Harry.

Ralph sighed. He raised his bound hands and tousled his hair, thinking.

"We were…. We were hanging around Hyde Park. Sometimes people like to jog there at night and if they're alone, we just… we just take their money. Maybe bang 'em up a little. But we never killed anybody!"

"You had her purse," Harry added. "How did you get it?"

"It was just laying there next to her. We found her like that."

"Who?"

"Me and couple of my buddies… She was all splayed in the dirt. Eyes staring up at the sky… Something ripped her right open. But there wasn't any blood or anything. She was already starting to get cold, and getting stiff. But we were so hungry… It couldn't hurt if she was already dead, right? So… we took a few bites. But we only had a couple. Somebody came crashing through the bushes so we had to take off. The purse was just lying next to her, so I picked it up and started running. I sold it to the vendor the next day. Wasn't worth much."

"Come on, mate, you expect us to believe that?" Ron scoffed.

"It's true!" Ralph said defensively. "Every bit of it."

"Ron-" Harry chided as Ron opened his mouth to retort. He stood up. "Hold tight Mr. Steinman. Someone will be along shortly to show you back to your cell."

They stepped out into the hall and Ron pulled the door shut behind them.

"Well do you believe him?" Ron asked.

"Yeah… I think so," said Harry. "Our guy had expensive taste in shoes. Ralph's not wearing any and his feet are easily 2 sizes bigger."

"I noticed that, too…"

"Mr. Potter-," a young man with peach fuzz about his lip approached warily. "You've received a letter."

Harry took the piece of paper from his hand and opened it up immediately.

"Baker reported in," He told Ron. "Marc had an Argument with Melissa Tourney the day she disappeared. She missed the train."

"So Ralph was telling the truth," said Ron.

"Make sure, that Mr. Steinman makes it back to his cell," Harry commanded the junior officer.

"Sir."

Harry and Ron set off down the hall towards the lift.

"So are you going to let him go?"

"Nah..." answered Harry with a grin. He's still was in possession of stolen goods, Ron. And he took out a couple of our officers. He'll probably spend a couple of weeks down in the dungeon while they process him.

They stepped inside and the lift doors closed as they slowly began to ascend.

"What are you going to do now?"

"I dunno. First thing's first, it's even more important that we talk to Marc Dumortier. I have to send off a few more owls, try to coordinate with the French Ministry, compile a report for the captain… What about you? Are you going home?"

"Ah… Not sure… I'm thinking about going to the Leaky Cauldron."

The lifted chimed at the atrium and Ron stepped out.

"Hermione's not going to be happy."

"Hermione's never happy," answered Ron with a sly grin. "Well Good night, mate. Try not to work yourself so hard," he added as the lift doors began to close.

"Thanks. 'Night, Ron."

Harry continued up the lift to the second floor. He settled down in his office and got to work. Before long, the magically fixed windows had grown dark, and the rest of the floor had grown as quiet as a grave.

He managed to finish another report and send off another owl or two before his eyes started to burn. By the third, his head had begun to nod. Harry leaned back in his chair and stretched.

Doubt I'm going to get much more done tonight, he thought. Today's commotion had taken a lot more out of him than he thought. As he stood up and began to pack his things, smile touched Harry's lips. He thought of home. Ginny and James were there, waiting for him.