Author's note: Yes it's not dead. Life just gets in the way, and now I get to alternate from my other more serious WIP to this. I'll try to make it more regular, but no promises. There's quite a lot of people asking about Harry finding out what happened to Riddle in this world and… I doubt it's something that I care to include. It has the 'no Volemort' tag on AO3 and you can't really tell on FFN, so better to clarify that.

#

Once the vanishing hex wore off on Fudge's person, he was very upset. Harry found himself empathising with poor Cormac, who not only had to bear the full naked fury of the horrid man, but also had to wait for Harry to make his appearance back. There was a lot of yelling. Harry told him—a fact later expanded upon in a fabricated report—that the suspect, a large man with a moustache and spiky hair, had made an escape before Harry could catch up.

Thankfully the Minister's wroth was focused on the perpetrator for now. That was a different story once they entered Umbridge's office. Her face was formed into a wide-eyed reddening mass, wrinkles threading through it at the forehead and chin like great ravines. This was an apt comparison it seemed, as with a great rumbling, she proceeded to erupt like a volcano.

"DO YOU REALISE WHAT HAS JUST HAPPENED! THE MINISTER, CAUGHT IN SUCH INDECENCY BEFORE A CROWD—A CROWD WHICH HAD CHILDREN, FAMILIES AND VERY PROPER PEOPLE ATTENDING! ALL BECAUSE OF YOUR INCOMPETENCE! WHAT KIND OF AUROR DEPARTMENT LETS THAT HAPPEN TO THEIR LEADER! YOU ABSOLUTE CLOWNS, INCAPABLE INSECTS! BRAINLESS GERBILS! YOU WILL FIND THE ONE RESPONSIBLE—BY THE END OF THE WEEK! OR BOTH OF YOU WILL NEVER WORK IN THE MINISTRY AGAIN!"

She simmered there for a moment. Harry's ears were ringing, seconds later popping with an opening of his jaw.

"IS THAT UNDERSTOOD!"

"Yes, Chief," Harry answered hurriedly. "Sorry, Chief."

"We'll do it, definitely," Cormac added, looking a little pale.

"OUT!" she screamed.

They were quick to depart, somehow stumbling over to their cubicles. Cormac fell forwards onto his chair. He had about as much spirit in him as an Alcoholic's Anonymous birthday party.

"I really hate that woman," Harry muttered.

"Yeah well," Cormac whined, "that's all good for you, not caring. Next week I'll be out of a job. What the hell else am I going to do? Serve at Sergio's Sandwich Shop?"

"They do make good sandwiches," Harry sighed. "We'll need to move quickly. One week… Just be ready when whatever has to happen, happens."

"We're not going to investigate? I brought the perfume bottle and everything."

"Sure," Harry said. "Bring it over to the Potions Analysis. Doesn't really matter."

He bent closer, over his chair and towards Harry's. "Are you going to see her tonight? Granger?" he said with very obvious jealousy.

"I'm engaged, Cormac," Harry said, waving his hand. "But yes, I am."

"Oh… Oh, okay," Cormac said, sitting back properly in his chair. "Say hi for me?" he said with a smile.

#

Harry felt elated at the rush of the day, his mind almost wiped of the horrors untold hiding under Fudge's clothes. He rang the bell again, announcing himself with a passing "It's me," and went up the flight of stairs to Hermione's apartment. He found her already dressed, done up nicely even. Her hair was obviously treated with the Sleekeazy's Hair Lotion he found to be useless for himself.

"I figure we could eat while we talk," she said, guiding him back down again.

"A lot to tell," Harry said. "I'm not sure I know where to start."

"Take my arm," she said as they went out.

"Where are we going?"

"A surprise," she smiled. And they apparated. "Not really," she continued with a laugh, "it's just this sushi place I go to once in a while. I hope that's all right."

"Sure," Harry said. "Ah—darn it—I don't have any muggle money."

"You'll take me next time then," she said, as if it was no big deal.

Plans for dinner already seemed like more of a commitment than he was comfortable thinking about. Aside from Violet, he never expected to connect with anyone here. Things were getting more complicated. And now with Ginny in the picture, things were massively complicated. It was impossible for him to distance this world's Ginny from the one he knew, especially with how isolated she was, having only rebranded Kreacher for company.

They entered a restaurant with a green front and a straight Asian script. Inside, some people were already ordering, and Hermione got them a quiet table on the right side between some potted figs. He'd only eaten sushi once in his life before, with Dudders when he asked Harry to attend his wedding. He still had to smile at the face Dudley and the guests made as Harry attended with Ginny, seeing as she turned heads even on a bad day. It had been just the right amount of rubbing it in his face.

They each ordered a beer and some dishes. Hermione put up a charm to hide their conversation, even though the chance of anyone overhearing was almost nonexistent. She looked at him expectantly.

"Ginny Weasley's alive," he said, still not quite believing it himself. "She's the one who's been causing such trouble."

Hermione was both wide-eyed and frowning. "That's… Are you sure?"

"Saw her, talked to her, she told me her name… It's her, and not just looks. She's the one who was working with the elf. I caught him when—bloody hell you don't even know—Fudge's clothes disappeared during his speech. The cause was probably that awful perfume he'd been sprayed with before his appearance. Anyway, that's where I found her elf, and I sort of forced him to take me to her. Of course, I had no idea it would be her."

"God, I don't even know if I believe what you're saying."

"We're meeting her on Wednesday. She has a mountain of evidence against Fudge, Umbridge, Jacob, and a few others I didn't recognise. Fraud, embezzlement, even negligent homicide. You know what, it's probably best I start at the beginning."

He told her of how Jacob had been impersonating his brother, Isaac, to get access to the Department of Records, how he'd been in bed with Umbridge and by extension, Fudge. He relayed as much of the documents he remembered. He told her of the greed that lead to George's death, and her hand balled up on the table. When all was said and done, she was more angry than sceptical.

"This is going to be a mess to go through," she said. "Not only are we going to build a case against important people in the Ministry, but we're digging up at least a decade of fraud."

"We're on a deadline," Harry said. "Umbridge has told us in no uncertain terms that me and McLaggen are going to get the boot if we don't hand her the culprit by the end of the week."

"That woman is ridiculous! No wonder she's so crooked. How the hell are we supposed to move forward now? We'd have to present a case to the Wizengamot, without Fudge and his accomplices knowing. How are we supposed to do that? I'm not an insider."

Harry ate a tasty piece of salmon while he racked his brain for an answer. It was indeed no small task. He knew that Frank Longbottom was part of the Wizengamot, but that wasn't any help. "Do you know a Regulus Black?" he asked.

"The star lawyer? Of course I know him. He has more court cases under his belt than half the Ministry's prosecution. Don't tell me you know him."

"Violet might. I don't know what she'll say or if it would be any help, but I can ask."

"If you can get his help? Of his firm? Yes that would be a lot of help, I'd say. The man has connections. He was almost as well-liked as James Potter when they both rose in criminal prosecution. After Potter died, he started a private practice."

"I still don't know the half of my family's history," Harry said, his eyes wandering over the sushi chef preparing a new batch. "I also feel like I'm freeloading all the time. This is really tasty."

"It's my pleasure," she said with a smile. "If you do get word that we can get Black's help, I'd like to be there as well. I can inform him exactly of any preparations we might have to do… But we need solid evidence, all we have is, like you said evidence of records being altered?"

"Yes. You are right, we need more than that. What we need…" Harry's eyes brightened as he thought back to his visit to Ottery St. Catchpole. "We need to catch them in the act. Get a confession."

"Easier said than done!"

"Is it?" Harry answered with a grin. "I think you'll like what I have in mind."

#

He was slightly pissed when he got home. Harry's grand plan had been a cause for some celebration, and he needed the leisure to take the tension out of the day. Hermione was quite fun to hang out with, as she recounted tales of her Hogwarts days. He'd laughed quite a bit at her retelling of Professor Cadogan's history lessons. It sounded a lot more fun than Binns' soporific lectures.

Stumbling in, Violet was watching some television. There was a man droning on about the eating habits of sharks. She followed him with her eyes as he walked in and sat down with a tired sigh beside her.

"I heard what happened," she said. "It's really true Fudge ended up giving a naked speech?"

"Don't remind me," he said, taking off his glasses to rub his eyes. "And you don't even know the half of it." He looked at her with a smile on his lips. "She's alive, Violet."

"Who is?" she said, shuffling closer.

"Ginny. Ginny Weasley, she… She didn't die in the accident."

Harry closed his eyes, letting the reality wash over him. When he opened them again, Violet was looking at him expectantly, like he might break over the news. Instead he felt strangely at peace. "We're going to need your help, I think," he said.

"How so?"

"Because apparently Regulus Black is the only one with enough connections to allow us to bring this massive case of fraud and negligence to the Wizengamot. Can you set up a meeting? Granger would be joining us."

"I think I can," she answered. "And you're all right? You look… drunk."

He put an arm around her and let himself relax. "I'm fine," he said. "It feels like I'm starting to fit in here somewhat. For now, let's just say that's a good thing."

"I'll call Black's practice in the morning. Is having you around always this much trouble?" she said with a chuckle.

"I believe the answer would be an overwhelming yes."

#

Thus the gears of an uncertain gambit started to grind into place. Several that were missing, several that still had the be put into place, and a few who might or might not end up being used. Harry pondered if Cormac could be brought in. If so, it would have to be at the conclusion. He wouldn't let go of his instinct that when push would come to shove, Fudge and Associates would not let themselves be caught. That's what the plan hinged on.

The next day after work, Harry awaited Hermione's floo in to Potter Cottage. It being the first time he would see Hermione and Violet together, he felt a bit nervous. He had to keep reminding himself that this wasn't his Hermione, because it really felt like he was introducing an old friend to his sister.

She came in well-dressed, though not better-dressed than Violet. Regardless, Violet did stick close to Harry as handshakes were exchanged. Hermione had a bag brimming with parchment and books.

"I've researched past cases relating to fraud," she said, "and past cases where a dismissal of one or more members of government had to be brought to court. There's precedent for it."

"That's… nice," Violet said, adjusting her spectacles, "but uncle Reggie will be able to do it by himself. We should go or we'll be late for our appointment."

Harry felt a little constricted, standing in the fireplace between both women. There were better ways to get off to a good start than to dismiss what was probably an entire day's work.

"Noir and Associates!" Violet said as she threw the powder in the fireplace.

With a coughing fit, they landed in the reception area of an expensive looking building. Harry lifted up Hermione by her arm, who had tumbled out at a bad angle. They were surrounded by marble white and copper finishing, a large space going into two doorways. A small old woman with glasses much thicker than either Potter visitors looked up from a desk. She must have been blind even with her glasses because she seemed to look straight past them.

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "You must be Black and Black's seven o'clock. Violet Potter! How are you dear?"

"Good, Mrs. Battings. Is uncle Reggie still busy?"

"I don't believe so," she said.

Just as she was about to pick up a phone, a person slid into view on black polished tasteful shoes. A man with a curling moustache and a glistening coiffed head of black hair with about the same consistency as leather. He stood there for a second, blinking, and taking in his visitors, from Violet, to Hermione, to Harry, back to Violet, and back to Harry, one eyebrow raising slowly.

"So this is the one," he said, quickly shaking his head. "My apologies. Regulus Black here, of Noir and Associates." He quickly went to each in turn, shaking hands. "Violet," he said with a smile. "Miss Granger. And Harry Potter." He paused for a second after the handshake. "Can't help but see the resemblance. Strange how families get reunited so long after."

To Harry those words carried a double meaning, as if Black very well knew there was no such a relative. But if Violet felt comfortable introducing him he had no reason to doubt her. The real issue here was if Black was going to be any help with their endeavour.

Regulus motioned for them to follow. The room beyond the large doors was a sitting area surrounded by so many books and presumably law texts it made Harry dizzy. He curiously turned towards Hermione, who had not in fact fainted or gone book-mad. Either she was hiding it very well, or her obsession with books wasn't exactly the same as Other-Hermione. It wasn't until they went beyond the salon and into an office that he noticed he'd begun referring to the Hermione from his dimension as Other-Hermione.

Amelia Bones—rather, Amelia Black sat in there, several books splayed open on the table in the middle of the room. She looked very high-class, wearing tastefully trimmed robes and a fancy witch's hat. That always did it for Harry. Never mind short skirts, cleavage, or anything else. There was nothing quite as seductive as a nice witch's hat, wide-brimmed and well-slanted.

"Seeing as the matter is a bit sensitive, I thought it best to discuss it in privacy," Regulus said, closing the door. Harry had never seen Regulus in the flesh. He was tall, well-spoken and handsome. So it was no surprise he had married a woman who wore a hat so well.

Harry looked to his side to see how to best start this off.

"You know the whole story, Potter," Hermione said.

With a sigh, Harry repeated the happenings of the past week, starting with Jacob's beard. As the story went on, Regulus frowned more and more. He told of Jacob's impersonation to enter the Department of Records and his previous misdeeds. Then, finally he got to the hard part.

"When we provided security for Minister Fudge and… he lost all his clothes, I spotted an old elf. I pinned him and that's how I got to meet the perpetrator of these pranks. The elf called himself 'Preacher', an old elf like we'd gathered from Ollivander."

Harry waited for a reaction and got it. Regulus' eyebrows rose as he looked towards Amelia.

"Preacher? Regulus, doesn't that sound an awful lot like your family's elf?"

Regulus nodded. "Mother always spoke of him, having served in the family for centuries. 'Good old Kreacher,' she told us, 'always so friendly'… of course she was the only one who thought so. Kindred souls?" He laughed. "But tell us about this—what was it? Dark Lady Cauldronborne?"

"That's where things get complicated," Harry said, hoping they would believe him as readily as Hermione and Violet did. "She's supposed to have died ten years ago. Fogblewenix Cauldronborne is none other than Ginevra Weasley."

"A tall tale," Regulus said, scrutinising him. "Wish James were still here," he sighed, "he could tell at a glance if someone was lying. Never agreed to go into law with me though!"

He picked up a brass megaphone looking thing and spoke in it. "Press coverage, February to March, 1993."

There was a whistling sound, like air being sucked through a tube, and then a thunk right behind Regulus. A book had appeared from the wall. He took it and flipped through it, mumbling as he did. With a flick of his wand, the book fluttered through its pages and opened up into several news articles.

"I remember the accident," Regulus said. "James had told me he suspected something, so I contacted Arthur Weasley with a proposal for an inquiry. However, the case was closed three weeks later and I never got an answer from him. Now… you're telling me Ginevra Weasley is alive? Is this who you saw?" He pointed to a picture of a young Ginny Weasley, posing with Fred and George.

"No doubt about it, it's her."

"You're certain?"

"I am. She's very… distinctive."

Regulus paced, pondering something. "Poor girl. Anything about the brother?"

"No," Harry said grimly. "Gin—evra was under the impression he died. I don't have a reason to doubt her. But, that's not all. The reason she's been taking revenge on those people in the ministry: Fudge, Umbrige, Longhand. It's because she figured out the incident happened because Jacob Longhand changed the Quality Control reports on his goods. I don't know the first thing about cauldron manufacture, but he forged the documents. It's why the incident happened. And not just that, but she has evidence of fraud, embezzlement. I didn't get the time to look through even half of her evidence, because I had to get back before Fudge and the Ministry started wondering."

Regulus grunted and sank in his chair. "Negligence, fraud, embezzlement… conspiracy. Hmmm." He turned to Amelia with a sigh. "I do believe this discussion isn't at an end. Drinks anyone? Tea, coffee, something stronger?"

By the time Regulus had dissected the case into something legally tangible the clock had passed ten in the evening and Harry felt exhausted once again. Tomorrow, Harry would be visiting Ginny with Hermione, to convince her to get out of the darkness and into the light. He went to sleep tossing and turning, pining like no grown man ever should. It didn't help at all that he had met with such a wonderful witch's hat.

He was grumpy in the morning, attacking his eggs and toast with vengeful fervour. Umbridge was still in the worst of moods. Instead of screaming any more, she took her time whenever they were near to sadistically leer at them. It worked on Cormac, who was getting more demoralised by the hour.

"Shouldn't we at least try to figure out who did this?" he asked. "Like… what if your plan fails?"

"I'm way past that, McLaggen. You show that you can keep your mouth shut and by Friday, we'll clue you in." He looked at Cormac with a serious expression. "You could probably save yourself by snitching. But you don't like Umbridge either, do you?"

"She just… wants arse-kissers," he said with a look of disgust on his face.

"And you're very good at it."

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean I like it. Also, I thought I'd get to be an Auror, you know, not just wear the robes." He tugged at them as if to make a point. "I'm not a bloody snitch."

Harry nodded, hoping he wasn't making a mistake.

The day was quickly over. There were two salient things in Harry's thoughts. The first was the worry of meeting Ginny again, and the other was quite similar. If his information led anywhere, he might get a chance to talk to his Ginny. He met Hermione at her apartment. Out in a small patch of benches between two row houses he prepared to apparate them.

They arrived safely, and the errant thought that he might not be able to apparate to an alternate-universe location only came up after the question was answered. Idle Hill. Ginny had told him she went there often when she was little, with the whole family. There was a small lake—pond would be a better description, and enough space and quiet to fly unhindered. Or watch her brothers fly, since Molly had been quite disapproving of a young girl taking up such a violent sport. For a brief time, it had been theirs, the place where they'd built their home.

Harry heard something from the bushes to his left.

"Psssht!"

He turned and saw the frowning face of the old elf peering from behind a bush.

"Follow a bit behind me," he told Hermione, and approached.

The shade covered them and as they came closer, Ginny appeared, wearing her costume. Harry thought with some frustration that she didn't have a hat. He cleared his throat. "We came alone," he said, pointing to Hermione. "We've also found someone who can help us with putting away those people—"

Ginny shushed him with a finger in front of her mouth. "Not here. You never know who's listening."

"Sorry," he said. "Er… can Preacher apparate us?"

Ginny came forward and looked at Hermione for a bit.

"Hello," Hermione said awkwardly.

After a minute or so of staring, Ginny nodded. "Take us back, Preacher," she said.