CHAPTER THREE
"Who are you?" Harry said.
"Bethany Rose," she said.
"What are you doing in my house?"
"You were not at work yet."
"It's not time for work yet."
"I like to get an early start," she said.
"Are you in charge?" he said.
"No."
"Then get out of my house, and knock on the front door. Don't ever break into my house again."
Bethany Rose stared at him, then walked out the front door, and knocked. He let her in.
"Pretty bold way of introducing yourself," Harry said, pouring them some tea.
"I assumed you would be at the Ministry. When you weren't, I came here instead. You are known for arriving early," Bethany said.
"Early is thirty minutes. Not three hours. Sugar?"
"Please."
He put a teaspoon of sugar in her tea, and handed it to her. They both sipped tea in silence for a moment.
"Your door was had strong enchantments on it," she said.
"And you broke them anyway," he said.
"It took a bit of doing."
"I'm still at a bit of a loss as to why you did it in the first place."
She took a sip of tea, and didn't respond. He was going to have to keep an eye on her. He looked at her face; pale, made paler by those blue eyes and blonde hair. She was very pretty, almost inhumanely so. He thought she might be half-Veela; but he had been around Veela, and none of them made him anxious. Not in that way, anyway.
"I could hear you practicing spell work," she said.
"Is that why you drew your wand?" he said.
"I thought you might've mistaken me for a burglar."
"Or an attacker."
"You think yourself important enough to attack?"
Harry looked at her. It wasn't about importance, but–
"You do know who I am, right?" he said, and immediately regretted it.
"Of course, Mr. Potter," she said, "but I think that you do, too."
"That was arrogant of me."
"It was, but it was honest. I can work with honest."
Harry finished his tea, and stood. He went into the bedroom without another word, and dressed. When he came back out, she was finishing up another cup of tea. Not afraid to make herself at home, Harry thought, a little perturbed.
"Shall we?" he said, holding out a hand. She put her cup down, and when their hands touched, he Apparated them out of his home.
They landed in the Auror department, right next to desk. Papers fluttered as they landed. Jacob, already there and scratching out paper work, looked up at them.
"This my replacement?" Jacob said.
"Just for now. I'll pick you up from the kennel when we're finished. Bethany Rose," Harry said. Bethany and Jacob shook hands.
"Jacob Walsh," Jacob said.
"Charmed," Bethany said.
"Glad to hear it. Send this to Wilson for me?"
Jacob folded up the parchment and handed it to Harry. He stood, and put on his coat.
"Assignment?" Harry said.
"They need help on this goblin thing. Ms. Granger requested me. You have something to do with this?" Jacob said.
"It was Hermione's idea, but I recommended you. Thought you'd be perfect for it."
"I appreciate that. Travel pay and I get to see the States. See you in a week, Harry."
Jacob turned on the spot, and Apparated away. Harry waved his wand and the parchment folded itself into a paper airplane and zoomed off.
"Where is this Wilson?" Bethany said.
"He's in the Pest Advisory Bureau. He and Jacob are working on some sort of project together. He doesn't really talk about it," Harry said.
"And he trusts you to send his mail?"
"Why wouldn't he?"
Bethany looked at him, frowning. Harry shrugged.
"Come on," he said. "Let's report to Rupert then head to Bakewell."
The report to Rupert was short and uneventful, and he sent them on their way with no further instructions. Harry took Bethany's hand, and they Apparated out of Rupert's office to Bakewell.
Bakewell was a very small town. Less than 4,000 people, according to Rupert.
"Bakewell of all places," Harry said.
"Indeed," Bethany said.
They were just on the outskirts. Harry pulled his coat tighter around him.
"Cold," he said.
"I spent many a night huddled our heater," she said.
"You're from here?"
"Born and raised. My parents still live here, though they're on the other side of town."
"What do they think about the explosion?"
"Not much. They're muggles. They don't really keep up with the magical world, unless it directly involves me."
He never would've pegged her for a Muggle born. She had that crispness of the upper class, or perhaps the arrogance of; breaking into someone's house made that kind of specific impression.
They walked on, deeper into Bakewell. The explosion had taken place near a row of houses nor far from where they landed, and Harry could tell immediately that magic had been dispensed on this street. The house was repaired, but shoddily; pieces were put back in the wrong places, and it looked to be held together by tape and glue.
"A Concealment Charm, I think," Bethany said. None of the Muggles walking the street paid any attention to the obviously wrong house.
"It's powerful magic, whatever it is. A little too powerful to be this near Muggles," Harry replied.
"I agree. They'll send someone to do a proper repair, but for now, they wanted to make sure the Muggles thought nothing was out of the ordinary."
"A house blew up next to them. It'd take more than a Concealment Charm."
"Most of them were at a festival in the town square. Very few direct witnesses. We had people on the scene in less than five minutes."
They walked up the stoop, and Bethany tapped on the door. It swung open, and a blast of stale air hit Harry full in the face. He held his breath for a moment, and then followed Bethany inside.
"How does a British witch end up working for the Irish ministry?" he said.
"I'm not British. I was born in Ireland. My parents moved us to Bakewell when I was two," she said.
"Sounds more British than Irish."
Bethany turned to him. She looked amused. Harry felt heat rise up his cheeks.
"Never met many Irish people, have you, Mr. Potter?"
Before he could respond, she walked away from him. He swallowed, and walked after her.
The interior of the house mirrored the slapdash nature of its outside. The hallways were different sizes, and the stars uneven, and the living room looked like a horror funhouse. Near the back of the living room, next to the door that led to the backyard, was a blood stain. It was surrounded by a white magical line, which sent up the name "BORIS KESSEL" when he looked at it. Bethany kneeled down next to it, touched it with her wand.
"Sanguinis Delere," she said, and some of the blood siphoned off the floor and hung in the air. She held out her hand, and a tube tumbled out of her pocket and into her fingers. She directed the blood into the tube, and put it away.
"Never heard of that spell," he said.
"It's mostly a house cleaning spell. But I found it was useful for other things."
"Wandless magic, too. Making that tube come to you. Not many people can do that."
"Not many Europeans or Americans can do it. Plenty of African witches and wizards can. They don't use wands," she said.
"Is that where you learned it?" he said.
"My first partner at the Irish ministry was a Nigerian man named Paul Okafor. He taught me some stuff. I'm not an expert, and don't claim to be."
She stood, and walked outside.
The backyard had been damaged by the explosion, too; that much he had read in the file –– but he couldn't quite put his finger on what was wrong with it. Then it hit him; he couldn't look at the very center of the yard.
"Is this another Concealment Charm?" Harry said.
"Makes it hard to look at, right?" Bethany said.
"How is this one so much more powerful than the one on the house? We see right through that one."
"The one on the house was cast to keep out Muggles. This one was cast to keep out magical folk. I'm actually pretty impressed you could tell something was wrong. Takes a strong wizard to see that kind of magic."
She tapped her wand on it, and it lifted, and Harry immediately understood why this one was cast. The center of the yard was obliterated, torn asunder and massacred. He could see multiple blood stains, all surrounded by the same magical markings as inside. Each one was a different person: MARION PARKER, THOMAS BOWERS, PETER PETERSON, ALAN MASON. But the one directly in the center interested him most; that bloodstain was of DYLAN KOSTAS.
"Right in the middle of it," Harry said.
"Yeah," Bethany said. She looked at Harry, and suddenly something occurred to him.
"Why did they send you on this mission?" he said.
"Because my family is from here," she said.
He looked at her. Her face was implacable. He wasn't that stupid.
"The Irish ministry volunteered me to help."
He stared at her.
"Is this how you want to run this partnership? By lying to me?"
"You're hiding something from me, too, Mr. Potter."
"Call me Harry. Let's start there," he said.
"Call me Bethany," she said.
"Good start. Why are you on this mission?"
She looked at him. She wanted to tell him something, but was afraid to let it slip out. Pushing her too hard might make her clam up, and he didn't want that either. But how to get her to open up to him?
"Oh," Harry said. If he didn't believe it was because she had family in the area (and he didn't), the only other distinctive thing about her was–
"Kostas was working with the Irish ministry, and the British ministry doesn't know, do they? They just think you're a volunteer. On loan," he said.
"They think I'm a permanent transfer," Bethany said.
"Whatever."
"My family being here does matter. Kostas was an informant for your side, but he was working a bigger game for us. You wanted the cell, we wanted the head. That sort of thing," she said.
"Why not just tell us?"
"Not everybody likes the center of the wizarding world to be located in London, Mr. Potter. Harry."
They started at one another. Did he believe her? He had never been much good at mind reading, or protecting his mind from reading. But he was pretty sure she was telling the truth, or at least the truth her supervisors had given her.
"I read in the file that explosion was accidental. Discharge from an improperly cast spell," he said.
"Six people died. Five immediately. One managed to stumble back inside. Pretty powerfully cast improper spell," she said.
"Did he have any enemies? Besides the people he was informing on?"
"We don't know. Kostas wasn't very interested in talking about his personal life. He was dating a man named Pierce, but he's a Muggle. Couldn't cast a spell like this if he tried. Besides, watch–"
She waved her wand, and a green wisp formed at the center of the explosion, floating over the blood stain of Dylan Kostas.
"The magic came from here. Only person who could've cast it was outside. It was one of the six who died, and I'd put my money on Kostas, just considering the location and the fact that he was obliterated."
"Obliterated?" Harry said.
"The report didn't mention?" Bethany said.
Harry shook his head no. He'd have to tell Rupert about that.
"They found a finger, three toes, and an ear, and a bucket of blood on the ground. Nothing else."
A finger –– that's all they found. Pettigrew. he thought. That's all they found of Pettigrew. The cabin, and Ron's broken leg. A massive werewolf, coming alive under the light of the moon. Severus Snape, screaming at them as a thin, sad man because this great, gnashing beast. A finger –– that's they found
"Harry?" Bethany said.
He was back on his feet.
"Sorry," Harry said. "Got everything you need?"
She didn't respond. Bethany stared at him for a moment longer and then, without another word, left him in the backyard. He was thankful for the alone time. He hadn't thought about Peter Pettigrew in a long time
The man became a rat and slipped from his clothes and scurried away. Harry dove after him but he was
BANG!
Harry ran without thinking, towards the sound of the noise, back towards the house. He could hear Bethany yelling –– yelling not screaming, firing curses and jinxes and counter spells –– and when he enter through the back door he felt the heat of a spell singe the air in front of his face.
A big body, much bigger than him, slammed full force into his chest, and Harry went backwards, out the door he had just come in. He hit the grass hard, the softness not damping the blow of the full body weight of the large man on him, and his breath left him. But when the man broke free and tried to run, Harry grabbed his ankle and held on.
He was drug for a few seconds, like a young boy holding onto his father's leg. But the other foot caught on the dirt and fell. By then Bethany had come out of the house and she fired a spell at the escaping man. But the man reflected it and it hit her square in the chest, and she folded over like a board game and the man ran.
Harry had his wind, and he followed.
"Stupefy!" Harry shouted, and red light erupted from his wand. The man parried back at him, and Harry barely avoided it. The man stopped running, suddenly turning on a dime.
"Avada Kedavra!" the man shouted, and Harry was too close to dive out of the way.
The spell hit him dead in the chest, and this time it was his turn to crumple into a heap. The hottest heat spread over him, and the meanest cold began in his finger tips and toes. He tried to breathe but found little air. He tried to breathe again but found little air ––
But there was air, shallow and thin as it was. He kept breathing, this tight breathes, until finally sleep overtook him –– beating out the endless void of death, at least one more time.