Warnings: none.
Summary: Harry brings his auror team together to discuss how to capture the most dangerous Death Eater still at large: Bellatrix Lestrange. He calls in some extra help, too.
CHAPTER 3
Calling in a Favour
~ Five Years Later ~
Harry balanced a tray of various sweets on one arm and one of coffees on the other. Tradition dictated that whenever one of Harry's team called them to an early morning meeting, the caller would bring in coffee and treats to get everyone's brains in gear. As Harry had called them in to meet at the bright and early hour of seven on the dot, breakfast fell to him.
He nodded to Ministry employees as he passed on his way to the DMLE, using his burdens as a way to weasel out of the usual rigmarole of Chosen-One-Arse-Chasing, as Ron called it. Even five years after the battle, people still wanted a piece of Harry for their own. A date. His number. His autograph—and they didn't always ask for him to sign parchment either. He shuddered as yet another woman offered him a quill and showed a flash of cleavage. He gave her a wan smile and held up his burdens.
"Sorry, hands full, off to work."
Not that he would have signed her breast even if he hadn't had anywhere to be. Merlin.
Snape would have gotten a kick out of that for sure. Pity he couldn't be convinced to fight with them as an auror. Harry certainly could use his expertise and the public's image of him had reversed once Harry let them know how brave Severus had really been. They were much more accepting of the reclusive potions master now, but the man was happy in his potions shop.
Harry could have used his intimidating presence to drive off the crowds, too.
Oh well. He shrugged off another much-too-eager female fan and breathed a sigh of relief as the doors to the DMLE closed behind him. His fellow aurors had seen Harry too much over the past five years to have maintained the same level of hero worship. Besides his home, those of his friends, or Severus' shop, this was the only place he could lower his guard for five minutes.
And be seen when his hands weren't full of something or other.
Harry greeted his colleagues jovially and made his way to his team's strategy room. As Harry led one of the top divisions for Death Eater catching, the auror department had offered him a planning space of his own. It wasn't much, but the whiteboard filled with sighting locations in various coloured ink, the corkboard covered over in various bits of information and photos, and the round table covered in scattered papers and biros had been a lifesaver—literally, more times than Harry could count. They had caught all but four of the Death Eaters and snatchers now, and of those, only Bellatrix and Dolohov were any real threat. The other two were run-of-the-mill lowlifes who just happened to be good at hiding.
Bellatrix. Just the thought of the bitch made Harry's blood boil. Considering she had been injured in the Battle for Hogwarts, as it had come to be called, Harry had thought catching her would have been a simple matter. It might have been, had the auror team assigned to her capture not had a Snatcher spy in their midst. Jugson had kept them all hopping for months, and by the time Kingsley had sniffed him out, Lestrange's trail had gone cold.
He sighed and fished his coffee out of the mix. He had some ideas on how to catch her this time. Well, one idea, really. A bit of a Hail Mary, to be honest, as they were running out of options. He just had to get his team and the higher ups to agree.
Harry took a sip of his white chocolate hazelnut latte—he liked his morning joe sweet and with hardly any actual coffee at all. How Severus drank it black was beyond him.
Merlin, that was good. With a sigh of satisfaction, he set his cuppa down by his seat at the top of the room along with a plate of ginger biscuits, then started divvying out breakfast.
Ron, who specialised in strategy and defence and was Harry's second-in-command, preferred mocha and Mum Weasley's pies. Harry set those down to the right of his own chair and moved on anticlockwise.
Hermione wasn't a typical member of their team—she had gone into the Department of Mysteries and was climbing the ranks of the Unspeakables faster than anyone had ever seen—but for this meeting, Harry needed outside help. He set her Chai tea latte and granola bar next to Ron's seat.
The Patil twins were next. Normally, the aurors would have split a pair of twins between teams so as to avoid any conflicts of interest, but their twin intuition dynamic was just too strong and Robards hadn't wanted to lose that advantage. With a stern warning that Harry was to keep any family conflicts at bay, he had allowed them both on the young captain's team, and Harry had benefited more than once from their unique abilities.
Parvati, the Gryffindor twin and Ginny Weasley's wife, had one hell of a powerful ability with the Sight. These days they never went on a mission she had warned them against. Though sometimes her Sight could be clouded—particularly if she was feeling under the weather—when it worked, her accuracy was dead on. Besides that, she had a great handle of defence and shields. He set her pumpkin-ginger cappuccino and butter scones beside Hermione's seat.
Padma's ripping intelligence could rival Hermione's, and her skills as a medic came in handy on the field. She wasn't a full mediwitch, but her training with Madame Pomfrey and the first responders from St. Mungo's had saved all of their lives more than once. She was damn good at research too, which was just fine with Harry as he preferred to be in the thick of the action, not poring over thick books. He set her raspberry tea and chocolate biscuits beside her sister's seat.
He left a place for Kingsley next, giving the Minister of Magic his usual black coffee and another helping of Mum Weasley's pies. Next, he set down a French vanilla cappuccino and a plate of blueberry muffins for Head Auror Robards, and then moved on to the last member of his team.
Somehow, Draco-bloody-Malfoy had turned out decent. Well, at least he wasn't quite the prat he had been in school. He had put aside his alliance to the dark the moment his father had been shipped off to Azkaban. Serving the Dark Lord wasn't as glamourous as Malfoy Senior had made it out to be.
Who'd have thought it, really?
These days, his rivalry with the Golden Trio was much friendlier. After training and a lot of maturing, Draco had become a valuable member of Harry's team. He was as dab a hand at research as Padma, as quick with a wand as Harry, and Severus had trained him well as an undercover agent too. Thanks to that, his knowledge of the inner workings and identities of dark-aligned families and Death Eaters was not to be rivalled—except by Severus himself, of course, who would be joining them that morning as well.
Harry set Draco's espresso mocha and chocolate scones down, then laid out another cup of strong black coffee and a third plate of apple pies beside his own chair. Severus would feel safest next to Harry. While he had developed a working relationship with Harry's colleagues, the man had never found the same closeness to any of the younger crew—save for Harry and his godson. Those chats in the private room of Pomfrey's Infirmary had been the start of a lovely friendship, one Harry treasured just as much as he did that of his childhood friends.
Perhaps a bit more, if he was honest with himself.
Harry blushed and scrambled to his seat as the door clicked open.
"Morning, Potter," Draco called. The man found his seat and grabbed his coffee without delay. "Oh, that's nice. Don't know how you always manage to find the best brews but—" He cut himself off and smirked at Harry. "Well, well. What's got you all flustered, Potter?"
Harry relied on several years' worth of auror training to keep from choking on his coffee. "You mean other than the fact that at least ten witches asked me to sign their breasts on my way in? Merlin, one even wanted me to sign an arse cheek." He shuddered.
Draco snorted. "And you're still blushing about it? Please. Don't insult my intelligence, Harry. Those idiots have been offering you various body parts on a slab for five years now. You don't blush over it anymore."
"Humph. Some spy you are. An arse cheek, Draco. She started pulling her knickers up and everything. Urgh. Might have taken her whole kit off had I not reminded her that I'm an auror and indecent exposure is regarded as a misdemeanour."
Draco smirked wider. "Really. Most men would be … thrilled to have such attention, you know. Beats me why you didn't just take advantage. I would've."
"Yes, well, I'm not the sex king of Slytherin either."
"High praise. I don't think you're much interested in those girls, are you, Potter?"
Harry flushed in spite of his Occlumency training. "Of course not! I don't even know them."
"Hmm. True, but I don't think you're interested in women at all."
Harry shot him a dark look. "And if I'm not? Does that go against the pureblood rulebook then?"
"Of course not. Many married pureblood men have a … dish on the side, and they aren't all witches. Not my cup of tea, but it happens. Anyway, the point is that I think you have an interest in one man in particular. No, I know you do." He fixed Harry with a look somewhere between a smirk and a leer. "So …? Who is it you've been mooning over lately, hmm?"
"None of your damn business." Harry pointedly shoved an entire biscuit into his mouth, and was thus engaged in struggling to close his gob around it when Severus walked in, Kingsley and Chief Robards in tow.
"Charming, Harry," said Severus with a snort.
Harry flushed to his ears and wanted to drown himself in his coffee.
"Nice one, golden boy," Draco whispered. "That'll impress him for sure."
Harry swallowed what he could and ground out, "Shut it, you daft git." Crumbs sprayed all down his front and Harry wanted to crawl in the nearest hole. "Damn it, Draco."
Merlin. He hadn't wanted to strangle the ferret for years, but this morning came close to reminding him of old urges.
Draco just smirked like the cat that got the canary and sipped his coffee.
Severus gave the two men a raised eyebrow and folded gracefully into his seat beside Harry, Banishing the mess from Harry's robes without a fuss. "Are we discussing something I should know, gentlemen?"
Harry took in too big a swallow of coffee and almost choked himself. "No, hah, no. Draco's just being a prat as usual." He shot the man a glare for good measure.
Draco, of course, just widened his smirk.
Kingsley and Robards shrugged at one another and went to their seats.
Ron came in at that point, oblivious as always, and started in on his pies with a relish. "Fankth, Har. Dint ged muff breffith."
Hermione sighed and settled primly beside him. "Honestly, Ron. Anyone would think Katie starves you at home, when I know for a fact she makes you a huge fry up every day."
"Oi! Don't go giving away my secrets."
She flicked her eyes skyward and sipped her tea. "Merlin. And I wonder why we didn't work out in seventh year."
Ron snorted. "Like oil and water, we were."
"You aren't joking," said Harry with a shudder. "Never in my life have I wanted so much to hop a one-way flight to Antarctica as I did that year. The bickering alone was enough to drive a man to drinking. We won't mention the number of times I walked in on the aftermath—my ears are still ringing."
Kingsley smirked. "So which one is a screamer then, Harry?"
Hermione went pink and Ron choked on a pie.
Robards coughed. "Minister! Merlin."
"King! Dear gods, that was disturbing." Harry groaned and hid his fiery face behind his hands. "I meant walking in on Molly taking them to task. Jesus."
Really, was the world out to take him down today? Harry avoided the urge to bang his head on the table only because a half-eaten ginger biscuit blocked his path to the wood and he'd embarrassed himself enough already.
Severus rubbed a soothing hand against Harry's shoulders, and Harry gave the man a grateful smile once he regained his composure.
"Thanks," he whispered. Severus nodded and resumed eating his breakfast.
"Katie didn't feel well enough for the usual fry up today, actually," said Ron, frowning in concern. "Morning sickness still hasn't quite given up the ghost."
"Well, sometimes it can carry on through the entire pregnancy," said Padma as she came in with her sister. "But she's getting sick less frequently, so it's a good sign she'll stop as soon as she hits her third trimester or so. At least, we can hope."
"She'll be fine in a couple of weeks," Parvati said with a grin, then she sneezed. Three times in a row. And coughed.
"Uh-oh," said Draco with a wince. "Your Sight's cloudy today?"
She groaned. "Like a bloody storm. Can't See a thing. The only reason I know about Katie and baby Gabby is because I'd already Seen it earlier this week, before my allergies went mad."
"So we're going into this mission blind," said Harry with a grimace. "Well, we'll just have to be careful then."
"We always are," said Ron, dribbling apple filling down his chin and robes. The sight did not inspire Harry with confidence.
"Be a little more careful with your food, Ron. You're making a mess."
Ron looked down and blushed. "Oops."
Hermione rolled her eyes and cast Tergeo on the spilled filling. "Good lord, Ron. It's like eating with a monkey."
He retorted with a squeaky imitation of a primate and Harry decided playtime had gone on long enough.
"All right, you lot." Harry waved the Patil twins into their seats. "Now that everyone's here, let's get down to business."
Robards spelled the door shut and warded it. "Yes indeed, Captain Potter. You know I trust your judgment, but tell me why you wanted the Minister and two civilians to attend this meeting again?"
Harry stood and moved to his corkboard, sticking his wand right between the eyes of the demented bitch's photo. "That's why. We've been hunting Lestrange for five years—and not just my team. The entire DMLE has been trying to get a fix on her all this time and we've nothing to show for it. We've staked out and infiltrated every location Draco can sniff out and taken down every dark arts ring we come across, and still no one has a lead. We're at dead ends."
"Maybe that's literal, Harry," said Hermione with a frown. "She might really be dead. She was injured in the battle, after all."
Harry shook his head. "If she had died, her wand would have registered her death in our records."
Hermione frowned. "Wands keep records of their owners' lives?"
"Not usually, but since there's a death warrant on her, well, when nature—or someone else—does our job for us, magic lets us know."
Kingsley rubbed his chin. "Is it possible the record was lost?"
"Not bloody likely," said Ron with a snort. "Harry sits on it like a mother dragon on her eggs."
Harry smacked him in the back of the head with a stack of parchment. "Thank you for that flattering imagery, prat." He laid the papers on the table to show the others. "Those are her medical records. Well, what we could compile of them. We have precious little information for the years during the second war, but it's the paper on top that you ought to pay attention to."
Severus took it before anyone else could. "Death warrant for Bellatrix Black Lestrange: unfulfilled." He tossed it back to the table. "I'm assuming that's why you have requested my presence—to help you find her."
Harry gave him a sheepish smile. "Well, yes. If it's possible, that is."
Severus sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I have not run in those circles for five years, Harry. For all I know, the entire makeup of the Death Eater world has changed."
"It has," said Draco, "as ninety-nine percent of the ones you knew are either dead or in Azkaban."
Severus waved a hand towards Draco. "And that is all the more reason why I will not be of much assistance, Captain. I do not keep up with the dark now that I am free of it."
Merlin, it was odd hearing Severus refer to him by his professional title, but Harry did appreciate the show of respect.
Harry squeezed the man's shoulder. "Sir, that's not what I meant to suggest. I know you don't dabble with the Death Eaters any longer, but your knowledge is still valuable. You see, Draco has the beat on the current Death Eaters inner workings, but Bellatrix has always been far too fixated on Riddle to follow the new crowd, and I think that's where we've been going wrong. I think she's lost in the past, either having lost the plot or biding her time until she can avenge her lord."
Hermione frowned. "And no one has any idea where she might be?"
"None whatsoever," said Draco with a scowl. "No one has even seen her at the shops. Granted, she'd probably be under polyjuice if she did go anywhere, but I've had aurors and spies stake out every common shop in wizarding locations for months at a time and no one has even caught a trace of her magical signature." He shook his head. "Bitch hasn't so much as been to the grocery in five years."
Severus' expression turned grim. "With a house elf to take care of her needs, she would have no need to. She could lie low almost indefinitely."
Harry nodded. "Exactly. We're aware she's using a house elf to keep herself fed. We just don't know which one as all the Lestrange and Black elves are accounted for and the goblins haven't been able to track them either."
"Well, the Unspeakables won't be able to help there," said Hermione with a shake of her head. "We have no way other than a direct order from their master—" She spat the word like venom. "—to track a house elf who doesn't want to be found. Their magic is formidable and not well-understood."
"Yes, I know, Hermione. The fact is we're out of options."
Severus set his half-finished coffee aside and looked Harry in the eye. "If you are truly at such an impasse, what is it you think I can do to help you, Captain Potter?"
Harry folded his arms over his chest. "Well, sir, we've torn apart all the current hideouts and exhausted all of our resources, but like I said before, I think we're barking up the wrong tree. I reviewed her profile last night, and that's when it hit me: we're thinking in terms of the present, but Bellatrix is likely fixated on the past. It's a bit of a long shot—she might have just done a runner and left the UK—but I have a hunch she might be using an old hiding place, one from the Death Eaters' glory years that Draco might not know of. And that's where you come in, sir."
Severus rubbed his chin. "Hmm. An old hiding place." He wrapped his arms around his waist and stared at the whiteboard, eyes darting over the information Harry's team had compiled there. "Considering Bellatrix's personality and the singular strength of her fixation on Riddle, if she haschosen an old place to hide, I would assume she would choose the one where she could be closest to him. His manor, in other words."
Padma shook her head. "We've torn it apart top to bottom. There's no one there."
"There is … one area I think may have been overlooked. Of course, I cannot be certain that you have not already found it without seeing the manor myself." Severus' eyes filled with shadows and pain. Harry laid a hand on his shoulder, and the older man shot him a grateful look.
Severus took a deep breath before he spoke again. "There was an area of the basement I could never find—I could hear voices there and sense dark magic, but the way in … I never was able to uncover it."
Kingsley frowned. "Severus, you were the best damn spy this world has ever seen. If you couldn't find this place, I highly doubt our aurors have."
"We didn't find any secret basement chambers, no," said a grim Draco.
"Well then," said Robards with the air of dusting off his hands, "that really just leaves us one choice. Master Snape will need to accompany Captain Potter's team to Riddle Manor as soon as possible and aid us in our search for this hidden room. Unspeakable Granger may go as well, as her unique skills may be of some help in locating the entrance. Arrange it with your superior, madam." He stood and nodded to the group. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have another meeting to attend. Unfortunately."
With a sigh, Robards straightened his uniform, Banished his empty cup and plate, and left the room.
"Um, sir?" Harry rubbed Severus' shoulder. "Are you … ah, are we asking too much of you? I know your memories aren't pleasant and I … I don't want to—"
Severus rolled his eyes. "Buck up, Potter. Yes, my memories of the Riddle Manor are grossly unpleasant, but that is the purpose of Occlumency, is it not? I will be fine."
Harry blushed and let his hand fall, feeling foolish for even having asked. "Oh. Well, all right. Sorry, sir."
Severus patted Harry's arm, a simple gesture to let Harry know he hadn't been offended, and the tightness in Harry's chest evaporated.
"Well then," said Draco with a smirk at Harry, "I guess that means we'll need to brief the civvies on proper auror protocol, hmm?"
Severus glared at his godson. "I have heard it before."
"Er, not since the rules have been updated, actually," said Ron with a wry smile. "See, most of it's the same, I reckon, but there have been some changes to protection protocol over the past five years. So you'll have to be under a shield at all times, sir. I mean, one of us will have to do it. And, um, since I'm the defence specialist of the group—that's me. And Parvati."
Severus' glare turned stony. "Have you forgotten who taught you to shield, Weasley?"
"Of course not. It's just in the rules, sir. We could all lose our jobs if we didn't at least attempt to follow them." Ron rubbed the back of his neck. "Er, if it was up to me, I'd have you defending us, honestly. Besides maybe Harry, you're the better dueller. But it's just … well, it's the way it is. Er … sorry."
Severus sighed. "Merlin save me. Very well, Weasley. I shall endure your woefully inadequate shielding for the duration of this venture and pray I do not step into the path of a stray first-year jinx."
It was a measure of how far everyone had come that they all laughed at Severus' remark rather than taking offence.
"I'll try to keep the stray jinxes to a minimum, sir," said Harry with a snort.
Severus chuckled and stood. "Well, if we're all up to date on procedure, then let us, as they say, move out. I am losing money by wasting my time with you dunderheads."
Harry saluted. "Captain Dunderhead, at your service. Everyone, let's go."
"Good luck," said Kingsley on his way out. "I think you're going to need it."
A sudden wash of foreboding passed over Harry. He suppressed a shiver and gave Kingsley a grim nod. "I think you may be right."
