Chapter 2 : Broomsticks And Birthdays
RUSSIAN WANDMAKER MURDERED
Vladimir Chekov, famed wandmaker for several years, was found murdered in his home yesterday, by the looks of what may have been the Killing Curse. Wizarding authorities say that no one bared witness to the act, or indeed, an intruder of any kind, though it was commented upon that he lived in a generally secure muggle village in Moscow.
Chekov's reasons for residing there are unknown, as it is classified information by not only the Russian Ministry of Magic, but by our very own. Chekov proudly lived in London for most of his life, but a few years ago, unexpectedly vanished. Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister of Magic, admitted that his location was indeed known by the Ministry.
Vladimir Chekov is survived by no children, and had no previous recorded marriages. His friends who are closest to him, however, have claimed that what he most prized was his work, and that he considered "every wand he made to be one of his children."
The reasons for the murder are unclear, but it appears as though it must have been done by an outsider, as there is no registered wizard within ten miles of his home. When asked if anything was missing, Auror Ronald Weasley was quick to sardonically claim "Well, he was missing a bit of blood" before slamming the door in the interviewer's face.
Harry "The Boy Who Lived" Potter, conqueror of Lord Voldemort and Auror in the same department as Weasley, did make an official statement that he found the murder to be "highly irregular" and that he was doing his best to determine both the cause and the culprit. Some sources however, claim that may very well be exactly what he wants you to think.
Rita Skeeter, famed author of such best selling novels as "The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore" and "Cornelius Fudge - The True Hero of the Second War" says "I have known and been a friend of Harry since he was a teenager, and I can assure you, if anybody is likely to try and cover up a murder plot, its hi-"
Albus tossed the Daily Prophet away from his hands with fury. Not because of what Skeeter had said, his Aunt Hermione had long since told him not to believe her, or because of the murder of this wandmaker, for he had never even heard of him before. No, he was mad because today was his birthday. Today was the day that he wanted to spend with his family. And today was the day that his father got called into work to investigate a stupid murder that happened a million miles away.
Who cares? He thought to himself bitterly. People get murdered all of the time. It's not new. But how many birthdays would he get to spend with his father? His father, who was too busy to talk last year, and was in the office almost every day this summer. His father, who was apparently the only Auror in the entire Ministry of Magic. His father, who had promised him that he would be here for his birthday.
He stepped over the discarded newspaper and walked down the stairs of the Potter Mansion, eventually finding himself in the kitchen, where his mother was busying herself with what looked like an exquisite birthday dinner.
"Al" she said when he walked in. "Your father left a message. He said he promised that he would be here before we sing happy birthday."
She tried to muster a smile, but could not do so. He knew that she was very aware of how disappointed he was, even if she tried not to show it. She began prodding the flame on the stove under the roast beef with her wand, and wiped a large amount of sweat from her brow.
Albus merely sat down at the kitchen table, looking very bored indeed. After a moment, she turned back around to face him.
"Why don't you go open some of your presents now?" she asked.
Albus shrugged. "I'll wait for dad" he told her.
"Maybe you should write a letter to your friends? Tell them it's your birthday!" she said.
"They already know. I got two letters this morning. Both of them wished me happy birthday" he said through gritted teeth. His father, who had left before Albus had woken up, had not yet done so.
Morrison Vincent and Scorpius Malfoy were easily his two best friends at school, both in Slytherin like him. He and Scorpius had gotten off to a rocky start-in fact, if he remembered correctly, he had came very close to being attacked by him, but only because he had been spying on him. Morrison was his friend from the first day on the train, and had been sending letters back and forth all summer. Albus had managed to convince his mother to send him a signed Quaffle, to which Morrison had sent three owls in a single day, all of them bearing his thanks.
One of his other best friends, if you were to exclude his cousin Rose, was Mirra Tunnels. Or at least they had been. They had been arguing when they had their last conversation, and the last time he had seen her, she had been unconscious. He didn't even know if she would be attending Hogwarts this year.
Both Morrison and Scorpius had sent him birthday cards and presents, both of which turned out to be a very large assortment of sweets. He had been in such a good mood this morning when he woke up to their owls tapping at his window. But that was before he walked downstairs and learned from his mother that his father had been called into work to "investigate."
"Well then...your brother should be out in the field practicing Quidditch. Why don't you go talk to him? I don't think he's wished you happy birthday yet!" his mother said, snapping him out of his gloomy thoughts.
Albus shrugged again. He knew what she was doing. She was trying to keep him busy enough so that he wouldn't notice that his dad was missing from this very important day. Deciding that he had might as well do something to cheer up, he departed for the kitchen and out onto the field, where sure enough, his brother could be seen streaking around the sky like a bullet on his broomstick.
He approached him and looked up at the sky as his brother soared to the ground in a spectacular dive. He pulled upwards at the last second though, and with a broad grin flew directly at Albus.
"Hey!" Albus shouted as he ducked for cover, but there was no need, for his brother had made an abrupt stop just inches from his face.
"Do you have to do that every time?" Albus shot at him as he wiped the grass off of his knees. "It gets really annoying after a while."
James hopped off of his broomstick, leaving it floating in the air as he ruffled his hair, sending it into a tangled mess. "Sorry" he said with a smirk, though he clearly didn't mean it. "How's your birthday so far?" he asked.
Albus gave a shrug for the third time today. It seemed like the best answer to use.
"Heard about dad?" James asked him, his smile faltering slightly.
"Yeah. Mum says he'll be here for cake though."
"Oh...well that's good. Did I get any letters?" he asked hastily.
Albus rolled his eyes. It was the first morning that he could remember all summer where James didn't get a letter. He had begun dating a girl named Denise at the end of last year, who, like him, would be going into their fourth year this coming term. However, she was in Ravenclaw, making her an extra special prize for James, who claimed that "Ravenclaws were much too clever to fall for his usual charms" and that he had apparently gone through a great deal of effort to get her.
Despite being happy for his brother (and slightly sorry for Denise, who would no doubt be dumped before the Hogwarts Express left) he was extremely irked by their means of communication. It seemed that whether it be that she enjoyed her breakfast, thought of something funny, or took a particularly fresh breath of air, she had to let her boyfriend know about it at once. On more than one occasion, he had been woken up by the sound of his mother complaining at four thirty in the morning about owls tapping on the window.
James was hardly better. He frequently left the dinner table to send a letter mid sentence, having just thought of something that he knew Denise might possibly find almost remotely entertaining.
"No" Albus replied, watching the smile completely slide off of his brother's face this time.
He continued watching his brother fly around for what seemed like a good hour (though it was actually about ten minutes) listening to the insults that he only put up with because he knew that James was right.
Albus was terrified of flying. As far as he was concerned, people weren't meant to fly. And they weren't built to survive falls from one hundred feet in the sky either, so why cheat fate?
"C'mon, just get on the back" James said pleadingly as he slid up on his broomstick a bit further. "I won't go high. Once you get used to it, you'll really enjoy it. And you'll be really good too."
"How do you know?" Albus asked.
"Because everyone in our family is good, Al."
"Boys! Our guests are here!" came a voice from the mansion.
James shouldered his broomstick and followed Albus back into the mansion, where their guests had indeed arrived. All of them.
His Uncle Percy waved to him pompously from the corner of the room as Albus walked directly through the mess of people that were now talking. Everyone that had attended the previous Christmas was there, with the exception of the Scamanders-and his father.
Many of them stopped talking to wave to him, others were holding up large, wrapped, gifts. All of them began wishing him happy birthday, and Grandma Weasley even pinched his cheeks and said "My little Al is almost a teenager!"
Albus managed to shake his family off and entered the kitchen once more to find his mother decorating his cake.
"Out out out!" she hissed at him, doing her best to block the cake from his vision. "I don't want you to see it yet!"
And so Albus had to endure his entire family for more than twenty minutes, all of them asking him questions about his first year at Hogwarts, about being the first in his family to be in Slytherin, about if he would be trying out for Quidditch, and numerous other things that Albus had grown tired of answering.
As if his mother could sense the danger, she burst through the door of the kitchen and into the living room holding up a gigantic cake. "Okay...so who's ready?" she asked.
There was a murmuring from the large crowd of people as Uncle Bill conjured a gigantic table out of thin air, right in the center of the room. His mother lowered the emerald green cake onto the table, where in sleek silver letters he could see the words "Happy Birthday Albus ".
His mother lit the thirteen candles atop the cake with a wave of her wand, then cast Albus a sad look. He instantly knew what had happened. His father would not be able to make it home to sing happy birthday.
The rest of the family looked around nervously, unsure of whether or not they should begin singing without his father there. Eventually however, they seemed to decide there was no point in letting the candles melt, and there was a sharp intake of breath to begin singing.
"Wait a minute-where's Harry?" he heard his Uncle Ron ask.
"Ron!" Albus' mother hissed. Even his daughter, Rose, said "Dad, honestly, you've got no tact!"
"Harry couldn't make it" his mother said. "He got called into the office earlier."
"Over this Chekov thing?" he heard Uncle Ron ask incredulously. "Blimey, why didn't he just ask me to fill in for him, I would-"
"Start singing!" he heard his mother screech, and the loud singing from the rest of his family drowned out his uncle.
Albus sat there staring at his cake with what he hoped was a happy expression, listening to the chorus of "happy birthday" ringing in his ears. What was so important that his father had to break his promise? Would he even be home tonight?
He heard someone shout out "make a wish" and, snapped back to his senses, he gave a tremendous blow that took all of the candles out, thinking to himself I wish that my dad had more time to be home.
His entire family began clapping and pulling their gifts towards him. He sat down at the table giving thanks and tearing open presents.
He received the usuals. Numerous Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes products form his Uncle George, some of which were not even available to the customers yet, books on everything from dragons to the history of Hogwart's prefects, and a rather large amount of sweets. His parents had given him a large amount of gold for spending money, and now there was only one package left. It was long and, and he tore it open with curiosity.
He let the broomstick roll out onto the floor amidst many "ohh's" from his family. Whether you liked Quidditch or not, or even flying for that matter, it was hard to not be impressed. The broomstick was a dark brown, but sleek and shiny all the same. It wasn't bent at all, but rather curved for comfort. Every inch of it looked state of the art.
"Who got-" he started.
"That would be me" he heard his brother say.
"Your brother has been saving up for a long time" his mother said with a small smile.
Albus turned to his brother in shock.
"It's the best broom out" his brother told him. "It's called a Lightning's Edge. I was kind of hoping we could be on the same team at Hogwarts...but now that I think about it, I'd rather be playing against you anyway."
Albus looked at him in confusion. "I can't fly."
"You can once I teach you. Trust me, it's easy, and it's addictive" he told him.
Albus looked down at the beautiful broomstick in his hands. He did not want to fly now anymore than he did yesterday, when he was just as afraid of heights, but his brother had been saving up for it for so long...
"Erm...ok" he said. "I'll let you teach me" he added, with what he hoped was a convincing smile.
He began passing the broom around the room, where many people held it and whispered to each other excitedly. After about an hour, it was getting dark and people began leaving, patting him on the shoulders and wishing him happy birthday once more. Once Aunt Hermione had left with Hugo and Rose, his Uncle Ron, the last family member left, turned to him.
"I'm sorry your dad couldn't make it Al" he said with a frown.
Albus stared at him blankly. "It's fine" he lied.
"Albus you look tired, honey" his mother told him as she waved her wand once, and all of the wrapping paper on the ground vanished. "Why don't you go up to bed?" she added soothingly.
Albus kissed her goodnight and went to his room in silence. He felt bad, not only because he hadn't had a very good birthday, but because he knew that it had upset his mother. He lay there in his room, tucked in under his blanket, desperately trying to sleep, and cursing his father under his breath.
Would he even be back tonight? he asked himself. How many days would he go without seeing his father? Was one man's murder really so important? So strange? That he couldn't even attend his own son's birthday party?
Crack.
Albus shot up from his pillow. He knew that sound, even if it was from a distance. The opening of a door from the bottom floor confirmed it. His father had just Apparated home from work.
Quietly, he crept out of his bed and down the stairs. He could hear his uncle and his father both talking in the kitchen.
He surreptitiously moved towards the kitchen door and pressed his ear against it.
"...I think we can rule out Anifur though" his Uncle Ron was saying. "He's much too low in his department."
"Only problem is, you don't need to be very high up to hear a scrap of information" he heard his father say. "And recent activity in York suggests that they're finally staying put too. I think it's all connected."
"Did you tell Kingsley?" he heard his mother ask, before taking what sounded like a long sip of tea.
"I don't have to, he already knows" his father said. "But he's pulling a Fudge and ignoring it. I can hardly blame him. He's much too busy worrying about what's going on inside of the Ministry than out. You wouldn't believe who he made me question!"
Albus had no idea what the Minister of Magic had to do with chocolate, but now was the time to make his presence known. He pushed the door open and walked into the kitchen.
His Uncle Ron and his father were sitting at the large table while his mother sat above the stove, frying an egg. Apparently, his father was just getting to eat now. The conversation stopped abruptly and they all turned to him.
"Hi" his father said, looking guilty.
Perhaps it was simply because he had barely gotten the chance to see him all summer, but Albus thought that his father looked different. His cheeks were sunken and there were large bags under his eyes due to lack of sleep. He was still wearing his usual grin, but it looked out of place on his pale, overworked face.
Albus didn't answer back, but simply took a seat at the kitchen table.
"I thought you were in bed" his dad continued.
"Hoping you could go the entire day without seeing me?" Albus shot at him.
His father frowned. "I deserved that" he said. "I tried to make it back before you had your cake, I wasn't even planning on going in today at all-"
"Then why did you?" Albus cut him off.
"Don't interrupt your father, Albus" his mother said sternly.
"I want to know what was more important!" Albus exclaimed.
"Calm down" his father told him, while his uncle starting staring around the room as if he wasn't there. "Did you hear about the murder?" his father asked him.
"Yes" Albus said. "But I don't see how-"
"I'm going to tell you" his father said. "I got called into work today to investigate that murder" he said.
"Obviously" Albus said in a bored voice. "But why is it so important?"
At this, he saw his father exchange a quick glance with his uncle. "I can't tell you" his father told him.
Albus gave him an outraged look. He was right about to start an argument when he heard his uncle say "Oh go on, Harry."
They exchanged another glance, but this time continued looking at each other. "I don't want to tell him something that's going to scare him" he said quietly.
"I won't get scared!" Albus said, but both of them seemed to ignore him.
"He's twelve now Harry" his uncle said. "At his age, you were fighting a basilisk."
"He's right" his mother said as she poured another small cup of tea. "I was there" she added with a cynical smile.
His father heaved a huge sigh and turned back to Albus. "Well I'm obviously outnumbered" he said, giving his wife a glare. "So I'll tell you what I can. The reason that this murder is particularly devastating to the Ministry is because no one was supposed to know where the victim was."
"Because he lived in a muggle village?" Albus asked.
"Yes, because we put him there" his father said. "He was under Project Demiguise."
"Project what?" Albus asked.
"Demiguise" his uncle said.
"And it's called that because he was meant to be completely invisible. We put him in that village years ago, for his own safety. And his location was known only to high ranking Ministry authorities."
"But...just because he was hiding doesn't mean he was invincible does it? It's not that unusual..."
"I think that you're missing the point Albus" his uncle said. "Think about it. This person was somewhere that only certain people in the Ministry knew. There were no wizards miles from his house. But he was definitely murdered by one. Who could have done it?"
Albus thought about it. "Someone...in the Ministry" he said finally.
"Not necessarily" his father said, ruffling his hair. "But someone in the Ministry definitely told the murderer where he was."
"But they could have done it by accident! Let it slip to anyone."
"True, but it's unlikely. Maybe let slip that he was hidden, but few people know where" his father said.
"Bit unnerving isn't it?" his uncle said. "To know that the guy in the cubicle next to you could be a murderer. Or assisted one. Well not for me, I have an office" he said pompously, and he put his feet up on the table.
"Feet!" Albus' mother hissed, and he immediately took them off.
"So you can imagine how hectic work is" his father continued. "They've got me investigating a murder and a potential leak. It doesn't make me the most popular employee either" he added with a frown.
"But, why were you hiding him in the first place?" Albus asked.
For the third time tonight, his father and uncle exchanged a glance. They both turned back to him and his father said "We can't tell you that. Sorry."
Albus gave a frown and made to leave. He was partially satisfied with his father's answers, it all made sense anyway, but he was disappointed all the same.
"Hey" his father said, stopping him.
Albus turned.
"I'm going to come to Diagon Alley with you tomorrow, to get your books and stuff."
Albus tried not to look too surprised. It was almost always his mother who had gone before, even when James had been starting school. "Really?" he asked.
"Really" his father said.
"Erm...Harry, you just told me you had to go in tomorrow" his uncle said.
"Nothing wrong with bringing a guest" his father said.
Albus turned back to hide his smile and pushed the door open. His father had never taken him to work before. He had just begun walking up the stairs to his room when he heard his father yell something else.
"Happy Birthday, Al" he called up.