"Told you," Malfoy muttered smugly to Harry.
Harry rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair. Wiffleston didn't notice and kept talking. He had moved from the baffling origin of the immunity potions - of which, to Harry's disgust, Malfoy had been absolutely correct - to the tracing methods they would be employing in the search for the cache.
"And we will of course need to interrogate the smugglers," Wiffleston added as a side note.
Malfoy sat up eagerly in his chair. "'We' in the literal sense? Or 'we' in the general auror department sense?"
Wiffleston gave him a look of poorly disguised contempt. "The aurors assigned to the case, Mr. Malfoy," he said curtly. "Which would be Smith and Wilson."
"You mean I get bludgeoned half to death by a sack of overly enthusiastic potions, and I don't even get assigned to the case?" Harry interrupted, glaring at Wiffleston. "Why the hell am I here, then?"
Malfoy nodded firmly in agreeance.
"You are here, Mr. Potter," Wiffleston said with a sly grin that worried Harry immensely. "Because your recent promotion has dictated that you be put in charge of the operation. Such a prestigious role - new to both yourself and Mr. Malfoy - requires you to coordinate the investigation from the comfort of your own office, remaining in constant contact with field officers Smith and Wilson, and to use your superior knowledge of the criminal mindset to determine new and productive methods and locations for investigation."
"You mean we're stuck inside for the whole thing?" Malfoy said, his face twisted in horror.
"Precisely," Wiffleston said, the grin still firmly in place. "I expect your first report by Wednesday. Good luck, gentlemen." Wiffleston smirked and left the room.
Harry looked around, an expression of sudden understanding mingled with alarm crossing his face. "Two desks," he said with a whimper. Malfoy's eyes widened as he too realised that this was not Wiffleston's new office as they had assumed, but their own. Brown walls, two white desks, and a thick brown door, firmly shut now that Wiffleston had left. If shut doors could look smug, this one did.
Harry and Malfoy stared at the door, both deep in contemplation.
"Bugger this," Harry said suddenly.
"My thoughts precisely, Potter," Malfoy said, and they both climbed out the window.
They emerged in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office.
"I always wondered what would happen if you tried to use one of the fake windows," Malfoy said, staring thoughtfully at the space they had just emerged from, which looked just like an ordinary third floor window.
"Wonder if it leads back to the same window," Harry said, scratching his head. "Guess we'll find out later when we come back."
"Will we go find Smith and Wilson, then?" Malfoy asked, leading the way down the corridor.
"Can't let them have all the fun," Harry agreed. "Although you needn't sound so excited about interrogating prisoners, you sadistic git."
"Excuse me for appreciating the prospect of a task that offers something a little more intriguing than falling asleep on a stakeout. Don't tell me you wouldn't enjoy finally putting your elite interrogation skills to use."
"By 'elite interrogation skills' do you mean flashing them your Dark Mark and pretending you're not terrified at the sight of blood?"
"Low blow, Potter. You're trivialising a very serious event in wizarding history. Shame on you."
"Don't act like that wasn't your plan."
"Harry!" A voice said in surprise.
Harry turned around. "Oh, hi, Mr. Weasley," he said with a grin. "What are you working on today?"
"Enchanted picture frames," Mr. Weasley whispered conspiratorially, walking over to them and waving a brown wooden frame in front of him. "Pickett thinks it's just a simple illusionment charm to make the pictures change when Muggles aren't looking. Adding a piece of furniture, or changing a person's hair to make Muggles think they're going mad. But I think it's far more sinister than that, Harry. I think the pictures are stealing objects. But don't let Pickett know. He thinks he's got this one in the bag." Mr. Weasley frowned. "I'll show him. He'll think twice before he takes another cursed teacup investigation out from under my very nose."
Harry stifled a laugh. "Well, if you see Wiffleston, don't tell him you saw us, okay? We're meant to be coordinating an investigation from the office."
Mr. Weasley looked suddenly concerned. "You're not rushing into something are you?" he asked, all trace of distracted competitiveness gone from his face.
"It's alright," Harry said gently. "It's quite safe. We're meant to be staying behind as a punishment. We've been getting a little, er, distracted lately."
Mr. Weasley's eyes twinkled. "Alright then," he said, although he still looked faintly concerned. "I won't say a word."
"Thanks, Mr. Weasley," Harry smiled.
They waved goodbye - Malfoy and Mr. Weasley sharing a curt nod - and moved on, quickly exiting the Ministry and checking where they could find Smith and Wilson.
"Back at the smuggler's den," Malfoy said, flipping through the assignment.
They located the car with some difficulty and drove off.
"So what do you know about this potion maker?" Harry asked Malfoy as they drove. "Was she really good?"
"Her name was Portentia and she was the best," Malfoy said. "Or one of the best, at least. So I'm not surprised her immunity potions are still so potent after being stored for hundreds of years. They might not be working perfectly, since there was no reason for them to be throwing themselves at you, but the point is they're clearly still strong. With a little tuning they could probably be used again."
"And why is it so concerning that her potions have turned up?" Harry asked. His mind had wandered during Wiffleston's explanation.
Malfoy glanced at him in exasperation. "Do you ever pay attention, Potter? It is concerning because her potions were never benign. This immunity potion was probably brewed for immunity against incarceration spells or entrapment spells. In other words, to protect wizards and witches who were probably being, shall we say, a little bit naughty, and who didn't want to be captured by the authorities."
"Ah," Harry said. "So if these potions have survived, we're worried her others have too?"
"Heavens, Potter. One could almost think you had a brain in there after all," Malfoy said drily. "Yes, we are concerned that her offensive potions have been stored as well as her defensive potions. And if that is the case, it would be a really good idea to find them before anyone else did."
"Because they could be really destructive?"
"Because spilling a small drop of one her potions could destroy the entire Ministry of Magic in less than twenty seconds."
Harry gaped at Malfoy, whatever words he had been going to say forgotten.
"Although, of course, if you keep driving while looking at me instead of the road, we may never have to worry about such destruction. Being dead and all."
Harry grunted and turned back to the road. "I didn't know potions could be so potent," he said after a long silence.
"It's rare," Malfoy said. "There have only been a small handful of wizards and witches in written history who could brew a potion so powerful."
They arrived at the smugglers' house and parked quietly on the street.
"There," Malfoy said after a few seconds of scanning the ground. He pointed to an area of the nature strip that had four conspicuously flattened areas of grass. They pulled on the cloak and walked over. Harry took a few deep breaths before rapping on the side of the car. He hated dealing with Smith and Wilson. He had never met two people more terrified of diverging from the rules.
A small sliver of car appeared suddenly in the air as Smith rolled down the window and peered out nervously.
"It's us," Harry said. "Open the door, they can't see this side."
Smith popped open the passenger door and Harry and Malfoy slid into the backseat, the illusionment charm still hiding the car from sight on the side facing the house.
"Aren't you two meant to be at the office?" Wilson asked from the driver's seat, his tone short and brisk.
"Change of plan, Willy," Malfoy drawled. "You get the comfy office, and we're going to do the field work."
Wilson bristled. "But Mr. Wiffleston said that you two would be in charge of the investigation and would coordinate from home office."
"Funny thing, that, 'being in charge'," Harry said. "It means we're in charge. So leave."
Smith looked stunned, like the ground had just been whisked from beneath his feet. "What will we do instead?"
Malfoy handed him the folder he had tucked under his arm before they left the car. "There are six addresses in this folder. Investigate each one and look closely for any signs of potion making. You'll need to be discrete with your questioning - don't let the perps know what you're looking for. They're highly dangerous and skilled in misdirection."
"So we're still doing fieldwork?" Smith asked, smiling hesitantly. Wilson looked suspicious.
"Of course," Harry said, "What do you take us for? We carefully tailored your investigation to suit your skill. We've high hopes for your investigative skills."
Wilson and Smith shared a glance. "And the perps don't know what we're questioning them about?" Wilson asked, chewing his cheek thoughtfully.
"Not a clue," Harry said. "You'll need to employ the highest level of discrete questioning."
Wilson nodded firmly. "We'll be on it right away."
"Brilliant," Harry grinned. He threw the cloak over himself and Malfoy again and opened the passenger door. When they were safely onto the footpath, he heard the faint sound of a magically muffled engine turn on and saw invisible wheels carve a quick path through the grass and speed off.
Harry and Malfoy shuffled back to their car and drove into the place Wilson and Smith had occupied.
"What were those addresses you gave them?" Harry asked Malfoy when the engine was shut off.
"My favourite restaurants," Malfoy said, pulling out a bag of snacks from the glovebox. "Salt and vinegar pretzel?"
Harry grabbed a handful of pretzels and shoved them into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully.
"So, the smuggler we brought in didn't know anything, did he?"
"Potter, I think if you paid any less attention, you would be considered legally deaf. Does that bother you?"
"So that means we need to find the ringleader," Harry continued, clucking his tongue against his teeth as he thought it through.
"It would bother me. I think as a matter of pride more than anything else."
"And the ringleader is probably going to be difficult to find."
"I mean, seriously, Potter, people must think you're absolutely thick. Or that you have total disregard for anyone apart from yourself. Although you did save most of the wizarding world. That probably counts as a point in your favour."
"But maybe if we pin one of them down and threaten them, they might give us some useful information for the chance of a reduced sentence."
"Aren't you meant to be the moral one? Threatening someone over an arrest is still threatening someone. By the way, Potter, do you notice how I still listened to you while I was talking? That's one of the many ways I am superior to you. You should attempt to replicate it some time."
"Shut up, Malfoy."
They shuffled out of the car again and moved slowly up to the house, searching for a smuggler to apprehend. It didn't prove as simple as the last time.
They made their way carefully through the back door, but realised quickly that they needn't have been so concerned. The place was abandoned. Dingy wallpaper peeled from the walls, leaving streaks of dirt mixed with inexplicable burn marks from stray spells. The unmistakable odour of pot lingered thickly in the air. After a brief but thorough search, they moved back to the entry way and threw off the cloak, almost gasping at the sudden onset of oxygen.
"This cloak was easier when I was fourteen," Harry muttered.
"Well, we could use illusionment charms like normal Aurors," Malfoy suggested drily.
"The cloak is better," Harry said stubbornly.
Malfoy rolled his eyes.
"If you want to go ahead and use a disillusionment charm, be my guest," Harry said sharply.
"Nice try, Potter. As if I'm going to walk into a dangerous situation with you more protected than I am. If you're under that stupid cloak, then I am too."
Something flew from the darkness of the house straight at Harry's head. He ducked quickly, while Malfoy reached out a hand and caught it. He held it far in front of his face and stared at it incredulously.
"Another potion?" Harry said, staring at the familiar glowing vial. "You have got to be kidding me."
"If I didn't know any better, I'd say they were attracted to you," Malfoy said slowly.
Harry whipped his head up to look at Malfoy, recognising the tone in his voice.
Malfoy looked up at Harry, and then carefully looked around him at the corridor the vial had flown from. Halfway down the corridor was the door leading to the basement. They had checked it out and found it empty, shutting the door after them. There was now a small, potion-sized hole in the middle of the door.
Harry looked at Malfoy. "What are you thinking?"
"I'm thinking, Potter, that maybe these potions might be working perfectly after all."
Harry pulled his wand and opened the door to the basement. On high alert, they made their way slowly down the stairs, Harry in the lead. The basement was still empty. The potion in Malfoy's hand was shaking violently.
Malfoy pointed toward a pile of crates in the corner. "Underneath that," he said quietly.
Harry knelt down and saw a small vial poking out from under the crate. He reached out for it, but Malfoy knocked his hand away.
"It's not an immunity potion," he said, all sense of dry sarcasm gone from his voice. He waved his wand and encased the vial in a small bubble. He muttered several spells before he finally floated the potion up and over to them.
"So, what is it?" Harry asked.
"One of her other potions," Malfoy said, his voice loaded with meaning. "It would seem she was a clever little witch, and thought to make immunity potions for her own concoctions, in case anyone tried to use them against her."
"Figured all that out upstairs, did you?"
"I wouldn't expect you to follow, Potter."
They checked the rest of the basement, but found nothing.
"Potter," Malfoy said slowly as they walked back up the stairs.
Harry looked at him warily.
"How much do you trust the people at the Ministry?"
"I don't even trust you, Malfoy, and I see you every day."
"Excellent. I propose we don't tell Wiffleston about any of this."
"Why?" Harry asked. "Not that I'm complaining."
"Because the only other time the potion tried to protect you was when we were at the Ministry." He looked at Harry, his eyes serious. "And we hadn't seized any of the smugglers' goods yet."
Harry's eyes narrowed as he realised what Malfoy was saying. "Silence it is, then."
Sorry it's been so long without an update. I'm aiming to be a little quicker from now on, but then I tend to say that a lot ^^; Rest assured that nothing will ever be abandoned.