Chapter 16 - Plotting and Planning

For Harry, Ron, and the other newly-licensed Aurors, life went on with little change in their routine. They continued to train and practise their duelling and tumbling techniques, working tactics and execution into their regimen. They had come together almost flawlessly as a precise and coordinated unit. The more-senior Aurors frequently paid interested visits to Hogwarts to observe their training regimen, and even made strides toward learning some of their exercises.

In reality, the teenage Aurors constituted almost half the force, and the older Aurors were happy to welcome them among their ranks without any nauseating patronisation about them being new or so young. After all, two of these remarkable young Aurors were Fellows of the Order of Merlin, and their astounding accomplishments couldn't be denied. Of course cheeky comments were exchanged, but only in a friendly banter.

Harry had been nervous about meeting his senior colleagues for the first time after exams. Naturally, he was worried that they wouldn't accept him as Assistant Head. His fears had been unfounded, as the Aurors seemed to be rather proud of having the famous Harry Potter as their second in command. Ginny was right—but then again, Ginny usually is.

Harry and Ron attended Chief Robards' funeral, accompanied by Ginny and Hermione. The entire force attended as well, including the DA Aurors. The Minister for Magic offered the eulogy, having been a friend and colleague in the Auror Office for many years. "Gawain Robards dedicated his life to the fight against dark forces. He never married and has no surviving family, save his mother. During the war, he was instrumental in the investigation and subsequent removal of people within the Ministry who hoped to escape justice and attempt to undermine our efforts to recover from that terrible war. He was a loyal friend and a trusted member of my staff and he will be greatly missed."

Following the service and burial, the four of them paid their respects to Mrs Robards. Harry told her how much he had admired her son. Mrs Robards, of course, mourned her son, but she had accepted that he died doing what he loved to do and she was proud of him.

Dawlish rifled through the archives of the Improper Use of Magic Office, searching for the record of Mafalda's underage magic, which he found. He also found the registration of her marriage and that she had become a widow shortly thereafter. It appeared she had married a Muggle, most likely confunded, imperiused, or both, and then killed only hours later.

Dawlish hoped she murdered him while he slept, at least, but somehow, he doubted it. That unfortunate man died tragically, his last hours serving no purpose other than as the means to lift the Trace from Mafalda, allowing her to practice her dark brand of magic without restraint or penalty. Chief Dawlish decided at that moment that that young man, would be avenged.

The list of Mafalda's underage magic was morbidly impressive. Both Dawlish and Harry were amazed that no one had done anything about it, since such a fuss had been made over Harry conjuring a Patronus in the act of saving his and his cousin's lives. He'd been placed on trial before the entire Wizengamot and nearly expelled...or worse.

Mafalda's transgressions began at a young age, most of which had probably been disregarded as accidental magic, but from the age of eight, Mafalda was showing nasty signs of becoming a powerfully evil witch. Two incidents involving Mafalda and the killing curse appeared on the list, and Harry was sure that one of them was the one the twins had told him about. It seemed that the Improper Use of Magic Office thought the girl would get straightened out as soon as she came to Hogwarts, but before Mafalda turned twelve, the list of underage magic ended.

"That would be in the summer of 1994," Dawlish said.

"About the time Riddle resurfaced...in Little Hangleton," Harry said, looking up at his boss.

"Harry, are you sure? We could really be onto something," Dawlish said. "But the question is what are we on to?"

"If we've any hope of getting any real answers, we need to find her father. My guess is that he lives in the Muggle world—it's easier to hide, especially for a Squib. Arabella Figg's been living undetected among Muggles for years. Maybe we can use the Muggle police to locate him," Harry said.

Dawlish was surprised and even a little appalled at the idea of dealing with Muggles, but remembering how valuable the electronic surveillance system had been to their mission at King's Cross Station, he couldn't help being curious about Harry's suggestion. "Explain please."

"Muggles have computers where they keep their records. The death of Mafalda's mother should be listed in the obituary notices of local newspapers kept in electronic archives. Perhaps we might discover her husband's last-known address and go from there. Whatever the case, we won't find him in any Ministry records. I'd like to bring Hermione Granger in on this, sir."

"You might have something there," Dawlish said thoughtfully "Right. See what you can find out. Go ahead and ask Hermione to help you. Working with Muggles and civilian witches is unorthodox, but your methods have worked in the past."

"Thanks, Chief," Harry said, shaking his boss' hand. "I'll keep you posted."

Harry's respect for the new Head Auror had begun to grow by leaps and bounds. Trusting Harry, although he didn't quite understand every aspect of the plan, showed fine leadership. Dawlish, on the other hand, had no reason not to trust Harry's judgement. As long as they agreed on the general strategy, Harry had liberty to conduct his investigation in unorthodox ways if that got the job done.

Harry returned to Hogwarts and over supper, he and Ron discussed ways to break into a Muggle police station and obtain records from their computers. They decided that the Great Hall was not the place to discuss such sensitive material, so they would meet in either couple's private room.

Ginny joined the meetings whenever she didn't have Quidditch practice with the Gryffindor team or the Harpies. Having Ginny in and out of the plans turned out to be very helpful in the long run. She was aware of the general plan, but could provide a fresh perspective on the details. Harry noted this and decided to bring it up with Dawlish. Whenever they made plans for a major operation at the Auror Office, there should be someone officially taking Ginny's role.

The plan was ready to execute the week of Teddy's birthday. It had taken a lot of effort because they had to consider every aspect of the Secrecy Act. Operations among Muggles meant loads of paperwork, including notification of various offices, procurement of the right permits, clearance from every involved office's administration to take out overtime for Ministry employees in case something went awry. The Muggleworthy Excuse Office had to read and comment on the plan, the comment had to be considered, commented upon, and then returned to the Muggleworthy Excuse Office. The revised plan would then be sent back to the Auror Office and either approved or returned with yet another comment, or denied altogether.

It was quite obvious to the trio how Riddle got hold of the Ministry. If the alarm went off at the Ministry, someone probably had to check that it really was the alarm and confirm that in a written report sent to the various offices, who had to draft a plan of action, get it approved, and revise it if necessary. It was maddening.

"No wonder there are so many internal memos flying all over the Ministry. It's mental! How in Merlin's name is anyone supposed to get anything done," Ron asked rhetorically with a heavy sigh.

After weeks of planning, or being at war with bureaucracy, as Ron called it, the quartet were relieved to leave Hogwarts that Friday. They would go to the Burrow and then the next day to Andromeda's for Teddy's birthday party.

Stepping out of the fireplace, Harry and Ron were welcomed by an extremely proud Molly with signature bone-crushing hugs. "My Aurors," she said proudly. "Supper's ready, dears. All your favourite foods."

"How is that even possible," Ginny asked. "Ron's favourite food is... food." Everyone laughed and took their places at the scrubbed oak table.

"I can live with whatever Mum made us," Ron replied. "And it looks great, Mum. I'm starved."

"Of course you are," snickered Hermione.

Over a delicious supper, Molly reminded everyone of the schedule for the weekend. "Tomorrow morning, I'm taking Ginny to Diagon Alley for a fitting. In the afternoon, it's Teddy's birthday party. By the way, Aunt Muriel will be there. She learned that we consider Teddy a part of our family now, and my dear aunt never misses a family gathering, more's the pity. Harry, whatever did you do to her last time you saw her?"

"I didn't do anything other than listen to her go on about Prewett family history for two hours, desperately trying to stay awake. Snoring would not have been taken kindly to, I'm thinking," he smirked.

Ron snorted. "What makes you think Harry did anything, Mum?"

Molly handed Harry a letter, which he read aloud:

My little niece Molly,

I am saddened by your last letter. You were not raised to treat your elders with such disrespect. Your father would be appalled and your dear mother horrified. If you weren't my favourite niece, I would surely disinherit you for your insolence.

"Oh there's a surprise," Arthur chuckled.

"I'm shaking in my shoes," Molly said sarcastically. "Read on, dear."

Harry had to admire Molly Weasley. The threat of disinheiriting meant nothing to her. It never meant anything. The Weasleys didn't have much money, but they were happy. He read on.

Molly, those children of yours, with the possible exception of Percival, are a collective disgrace to the Prewett name. They are Arthur's through and through. Disrespectful, tactless, obsessive, and irresponsible, just like their father.

"Excuse me? Did I read that right," Harry exclaimed indignantly. "Who is this woman talking about?" Arthur Weasley was anything but irresponsible he was far from tactless. Harry could always turn to his surrogate father for sound advice and the man had yet to steer him wrong.

"It's all right, son," Arthur said with eyes twinkling. "We get that from her sometimes. It doesn't mean anything. Go on."

"Yes, sir."

What possessed you to allow William to work with goblins, of all creatures, and then marry a French Veela? She could take leave of her senses and murder him in his sleep! And like it or not, his hair is entirely too long.

"I told her that subject was closed," Molly ground through now-gritted teeth. "He has a fine, respectable job with Gringotts and Fleur has been a good wife to him. Murder him in his sleep, indeed!"

"There, there, my beauty. Consider the source. Read on, Harry," Arthur said, still with twinkling eyes.

Harry realised that Arthur found his all quite amusing and thought how typical it was of the man. Virtually nothing rattled him.

You allowed Charles to run off and chase Dragons, for Merlin's sake. Dragons! In Romania! Molly, those people seldom bathe. The boy is scarred beyond recognition, and it's a wonder he hasn't been eaten.

"She knows ruddy well that Charlie's name is not and never has been Charles," Ron fumed."What is she playing at, anyway. It's like she's out to rename us all!"

"Ron..." Hermione said softly, stroking his hair. "She's just a silly old woman who..."

"She's a bloody nightmare, Hermione! If she starts on you..." Ron stopped mid-sentence. Hermione's cinnamon eyes were trained intently on his, begging him to hold his temper. "Sorry, 'Mione. Keep reading, Harry."

Percival is not a Weasley. I'm convinced he is all Prewett. You say he's exactly like me? Of course he is, He's proper, reserved, polite, and respectful and nothing like his father or brothers at all. He's a real treasure. You can be proud of him.

"Percy has never been Percival," Molly shouted. "The very idea!"

"Has she lost her mind," Ginny cried. "Percy certainly is a Weasley. He's just...different, that's all."

"Different? Gin-Gin, he's just like Muriel—opinionated, pompous, and...and constipated," Ron said beginning to laugh.

"Constipated? Ron, what is that supposed to mean," Hermione asked incredulously amid peals of laughter from around the table.

"Well...wouldn't you be if you had a cast-iron wand shoved up your...?"

"That will do, Ronald," his father interjected, chuckling. "We get the picture. Harry?" Arthur gestured for Harry to read on as soon as he composed himself. The mental picture of Percy trying to walk about with a rod stuffed somewhere wouldn't leave his mind.

George is a successful businessman, you say? The only thing he's done successfully is to make a lot of money encouraging children to terrorise their elders. It's a wonder that boy and his twin never blew up that ramshackle house of yours.

"WWW jokes are harmless! What does she know? She wouldn't know a Canary Cream from a dungbomb," Ron grumbled.

"And there's nothing wrong with this house either," Harry said firmly. "There's love here and that's what really matters." He turned to look into Ginny's beaming face.

"Too right! The old cow," Ginny replied. "Is there more?"

"Erm...yeah. There's more." Harry read on.

I've said all I'm going to say about Ronald, other than that his table manners are atrocious, he uses the foulest language, and he's sullen as a Centaur. His appearance is a constant disgrace—shirt untucked, tie askew, hair a shaggy mess. He and William could do nicely with a haircut. When he and that remarkable Potter boy were here, I couldn't believe the state of him. You'd better do something before he drives that sweet Granger girl away for good, even if she is a Muggleborn.

Harry burst into laughter and Ron snatched the letter. "Bad table manners," Ron exclaimed with his mouth full of food, spitting bits all over. Clearly realising the irony, Ron blushed as he handed it back to Harry.

Hermione almost choked with laughter as she digested Aunt Muriel's account of Ron. "Honestly!"

"Honestly? Is that all you can say," Ron shouted, banging the side of his fist on the table. Everyone jumped, including Harry. 'Mione, she just made a issue of your blood status. She can say anything she wants about me, but she'll do well to keep her acid tongue and her poison quill off you," Ron thundered as he drew his wand. "Scourgify." The food he'd spat all over himself and the table disappeared.

"Ron, it's okay. It doesn't matter to me. You're all that matters to me," Hermione spoke softly to him to calm him down. "Our family is all that matters." She covered his clenched fist and massaged it until it relaxed. "Go on, Harry. I assume there's more?"

"There is." Harry began to read and his eyes grew wide. This paragraph was about him and Ginny.

Mr Potter is perfectly charming and Ginevra could never find a better man. He shows all proper respect for the elderly, and is eager to learn about the family. I'm very happy that he appreciates the value of a family heirloom like my tiara, and I think even a mediocre-looking girl like Ginevra will carry such a masterpiece with honour.

"What? Medio...this is a load of rubbish," Harry snarled. "My Ginny? Mediocre-looking? No way in heaven, hell, or middle-earth!" How dare that this doddering old fishwife insult the beautiful woman he loved.

"Harry, it's nothing new," Ginny said. "When I was little, she insisted I had a mild case of Spattergroit because of all my freckles."

"You're not...you're..."

"I know. Keep reading, love," she said, laying her head on his shoulder. She'd long gotten over showing her affection for Harry in front of her family.

However, I do suggest you keep a close eye on her wedding dress. Her clothes are often too tight or too short, and sometimes both. To save Harry any disgrace, I do have a very proper Victorian wedding gown that I might consider allowing Ginevra to wear.

Your loving aunt,

Muriel

"That old hag," Ginny shouted. "She thinks I'm a...tart. I'll be hanged if I wear that moth-eaten shroud covered in mouldy lace when I marry Harry! I'll burn it, I swear I will!" Tears streaked down her cheeks as she began to cry with hurt and indignation.

If she was beautiful when she was angry, she was drop-dead gorgeous now, even with her face all red and tear-stained. "Gin, take it easy, love," Harry said putting his arm around her waist and kissing her head. "She's just jealous because you're so stunningly beautiful." A tart? Nay, but a banquet set only for mine eyes and partaking. Harry sent a calming wave of his love through their bond.

The twinkle left Arthur Weasley's eyes. That woman had insulted his one and only daughter. Mediocre? Preposterous. A tart? Never! Arthur Weasley was perfectly incensed. Muriel had gone too far by just the same as calling Ginny's honour into question. The look on Harry's face summed up both of their feelings. Good man.

Molly seethed. It wasn't enough that that old curmudgeon had the audacity to question her and Arthur's parenting skills, but to turn her malicious tirade against her Ginny was completely unacceptable. Ginny was anything but mediocre-looking and certainly did not dress inappropriately or conduct herself in any manner other than as the well-brought-up young witch she was. Loving aunt, indeed!

"So, Harry has first Muriel-duty tomorrow," Arthur grinned, twining his fingers behind his graying red head.

"I daresay it's the rest of you who should spend time with her, working on your manners," Harry smirked. "And Gin, you have to decide whether you'll go to Diagon Alley or to Aunt Muriel for your wedding gown tomorrow."

"A Victorian wedding dress. Would anyone know there's actually a bride somewhere inside it," Ginny asked, wiping her eyes.

"So after careful consideration, it's Diagon Alley," Hermione grinned.

"Yes. You can ask Aunt Muriel about that satin-and-lace horror for your wedding," Ginny retorted.

"I doubt the Muggleborn future bride of the sloppy, bad-mannered groom-to-be would be considered even remotely worthy of it," Hermione concluded. They all broke into fits of laughter.

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"Ginny." A soft kiss. A caress. "Gin, it's time you woke up, Love." Another kiss, more insistent. A gentle hand on her shoulder. "If you don't wake up for me, your mum's going to come in here," Harry teased as she began to stir.

"Mmm...I want to stay here with you," she mumbled and rolled over. "You're so warm and...dressed! Harry!"

"Sorry, Gin, but there's no time for snogging," Harry chuckled. "You have a fitting today, remember? You're going to marry me in a few months..."

Ginny grabbed Harry's shirt in both fists and pulled him into a passionate kiss. "I am going to marry you in a few months, aren't I? Sounds like fun." She wrapped her arms around his neck and snuggled into him.

"Gin, c'mon. If you don't get out of this bed, Molly's going to come up here and drag you out herself," Harry warned. "And I don't want to know..."

"Ginevra Molly Weasley," Molly's voice flew up the stairs like a Howler. "Get up!"

"See," he said. "She's already in a right state. C'mon, let's go." Harry began to nudge her out of the bed, but she nudged back until they were both laughing and nudging one another into the snog there was no time for.

"But I don't want to get up. It's chilly," she whined. "You're all warm and sweet and...mine."

"Ginevra, if you don't get up I'm going to have to resort to interrogation tactics."

"What...oh don't you dare, Harry James Potter," she warned, already starting to fight him off. "If you do it, you'll regret it." She squealed as Harry began to tickle her. He started with her sides and then moved to her belly, back and forth until she yielded.

"Oh-okay, all ri-right, Ha-harry, stop," she cried, trying to catch her breath.

"Are you going to get up?"

"Yes! But only if you stop," Ginny cried.

Harry stopped and looked into her eyes. "Love me?"

"Forever."

Harry slid off the bed and lifted her up, carrying her out of the bedroom. "I've got her, Molly! What should I do with her now," Harry called down the stairs.

"Oh just drop her in a chair at the table. Get some breakfast into her so we can go," Molly said, directing him to a seat to deposit Ginny into.

"Right you are," Harry replied with a mischievous grin, but instead of just dropping her into a chair, he dropped himself into a chair with Ginny on his lap. "Thy throne, my queen."

"Then thou wouldst feed me by thine own hand, Sir Knight," she asked, leaning into his shoulder.

"If thou wishest, I will feed thee. What is thine heart's desire, for thy mother has taken great pains to provide thee with the finest delicacies," Harry said, kissing her hand.

"Harry, for Merlin's sake," Molly clucked. "Has she taught you that nonsense, too?"

"Mum, it's not nonsense...and he's very good at it," Ginny pouted. "Art thou not well-learn-ed in the tongue of thine ancestors?"

"Aye, milady, for thou hast taught me well. But what other hast thou taught," Harry asked her, genuinely curious.

"I have taught none other but mine own dear brother, Ronald of the Burrow, brave Knight of the Chessboard. He is a noble man who loveth thy surrogate sister, the fair Hermione, Lady of the Library," Ginny answered him, taking a bite of toast he offered her.

"Aye, and I have no doubt that he hath charmed her with..."

"Enough, already! Ginny, hurry up. The shops will be opening soon and I want to get in and out before the streets fill up with nosy riff-raff," Molly said, chiding them. Molly honestly thought their banter was very sweet, but there was just no time.

Harry and Ginny knew very well what she was talking about. It was one thing being in Hogsmeade where they could move around like normal people, but Diagon Alley...there, they attracted attention and there were always those willing to alert reporters. There were still some unscrupulous rags on the market that would gladly print any dirt, real—really twisted—or imagined, just to sell copies. "She's right, Gin. I don't want you exposed..."

"Harry, I can take care of myself," Ginny snapped. "I'm a big girl."

"Love, I have no doubts about your ability to take care of yourself. I just don't want you and your mum to get caught up in a media circus. It's best that you go early do what you need to do before any reporters find out you're in Diagon Alley," Harry explained. "I just don't want you and Molly hurt, that's all."

"Harry, I think you're overreacting, but all right. Mum, let's get this over with," Ginny sighed as she made for the stairs to get ready to go. "Oh Merlin! Teddy's party!" Ginny raced up the stairs to her room for some clean clothes and then sprinted into the bathroom for a shower.

"Woss up with Ginny," Ron yawned, scratching his head. He'd just come down the stairs for breakfast. "Woss she got her knickers in a twist about?"

"Harry had to fight her to get her out of bed. She has a fitting appointment today at Madame Malkin's. She wouldn't move until she remembered the party. Now she's in a rush," Molly told him. "Where's Hermione?"

"Still asleep. She's been studying rather hard and she's exhausted. She's going to sit ten NEWT exams," Ron said.

"Ten! Ron, you can't let her do that," Harry exclaimed. "She'll...she'll go round the twist before it's all over! I'm going to..."

"No, Harry. Been there—done that. Leave her to it," Ron retorted. "She's determined, and you know how Hermione is when she gets her head around something."

Ginny bounded down the stairs in a pair of jeans and a jumper with her thick hair pulled back into a very heavy ponytail. "Ready, Mum!"

"Finally! Ginny dear, don't forget your jacket! You two," Molly said pointedly, gesturing to Ron and Harry. "Keep your father out of trouble," Molly said as she kissed Ron and Harry on the cheeks. Molly and Ginny stepped into the fireplace and Flooed to the Leaky Cauldron.

"What was all the noise," Hermione asked, bustling down the stairs with a pile of books in her arms.

"Mum and Ginny just left for Diagon Alley," Ron replied. Hermione leaned down for a good morning kiss. "Morning, love."

"Mmm...morning. Morning, Harry," Hermione said brightly, taking her seat at the table. "Any tea in the pot?"

"Um...er...I think so," Harry replied. "If not, I'll fix some more. No problem." Harry poured her a cup of tea, but noticed to his distaste that she had the bottom of the pot. It was more dregs than drinkable tea, so he offered to make her some more.

"Thanks, Harry," she said, buttering some toast. "So... Teddy's party today, yeah?" She looked at Ron for confirmation, but he appeared to be in another world. That wasn't the first good-morning kiss he'd received today and he was reliving the past hour in his head. "Ronald!"

"What? Oh, sorry 'Mione. I was thinking..." Ron stammered. "You were saying?"

"I know what you were thinking..." Hermione began, but Harry cut her off.

"Thinking," he asked, pouring Hermione a fresh cup of tea. "Who's thinking?"

"Nobody, I..." Hermione began, but decided better of it and let it go.

The door opened suddenly and the Weasley patriarch stepped through it, very obviously pleased with himself. "Good morning, children," he called. "Has Molly left yet?" Arthur Weasley liked to keep the peace in his home and he wanted to make sure his wife wasn't within earshot.

"She and Ginny left about ten minutes ago," Harry replied. "Why?"

"I've finally repaired that motorcycle, but I haven't tried to start the engine. I wanted you to do that, Harry," Arthur said proudly. They pushed the motorcycle out of the shed and into the garden. Arthur had done a great job and it was shining beautifully. "It still needs some further charm work, but I think the flying one is intact," Arthur said.

Harry straddled the bike and turned the key. He jammed his foot down on the starter, but it didn't start. "Hang on. They don't always start on the first try." Harry tried again, but all the engine did was cough and sputter. "Third time's the trick," he said confidently and used his entire body weight on the starter. The engine roared to life. The vibration of the engine and the smell of petrol drove straight into Harry's soul. Sirius Black lives and rides again.

"I charmed the fuel tank so it never runs out of petrol," Arthur shouted above the noise.

"This is great, Arthur. But I think I'll have to ask Hagrid to teach me how to ride, since I've only ever ridden in the old sidecar," Harry shouted back.

"That's probably a good idea. Molly wouldn't like it if we... had an accident. She's not that fond of this bike...or any other," Arthur shouted again.

"I don't suppose so, considering the last time this thing flew, it crashed in the Tonks' garden with Harry and Hagrid! They were nearly killed," Hermione said with her hands on her hips. "Honestly. Boys and their toys!" She would never admit it out loud, but chills ran down her spine when Harry started Sirius' old Triumph.

She imagined Ron with a huge, powerful bike between his long, muscular legs, and her astride it, clutching his hard chest, her head laying firm against him. She stole a glance at Ron, who stared at the machine with pure rapture showing on his face. You would look so hot on a motorcycle, Ronald Weasley.

Harry switched off the engine and they rolled the bike back into the shed. "Arthur, thanks. It would have meant so much to Sirius."

"Not at all, Harry. Not at all, but it was a lot of fun. I learned loads about Muggles while I was working on it," Arthur said, wiping his hands on a rag.

Harry had no sooner than stepped back into the kitchen, when he felt as though he'd been hit in the gut with that old rogue Bludger. Anger, frustration, disgust...Ginny was severely stressed. A dress fitting can't be that stressful, can it? He stumbled backward, but Ron followed right behind and caught him before he fell.

"What's wrong, mate? You all right," Ron asked, instantly on guard, his hand over his wand. "You look sick!"

"I'm all right, Ron, but it doesn't feel as though Ginny is," Harry told his friend. "I hope..." All at once, the feeling passed and all Harry felt was a sort of release from Ginny. He relaxed. "She's all right now."

"Harry, I think you need to find out what happened just now, because I have a sneaking suspicion she doesn't plan to tell you about it," Hermione said warily.

"I don't want to go interrogating her at every turn, Hermione. It didn't last more than a minute, so it isn't a problem. She doesn't seem to be upset now at all." Harry wanted to know what happened, but he wasn't going to press her. If Ginny wanted to tell him, she would.

Arthur came into the house after locking up the shed and imperturbing it against the prying eyes of his wife."Molly and Ginny should be back soon and we've got a party to go to."

Arthur hadn't been in the house when Ginny's emotions slammed into Harry, so he gave his friends a warning look conveying that the subject of Ginny's distress was now closed.

"I suppose we should get cleaned up," Arthur said, washing his hands at the kitchen sink.

Harry had risen just after Molly, so all he really needed to do was change his clothes. "The shower's yours," Harry said to Ron and Hermione. "I've had one this morning." The three of them trooped up the stairs to make themselves presentable. He stepped into the bedroom and waved his hand at the bed. It tidied itself while he pulled out a clean pair of jeans and a green polo shirt.

Harry caught a glimpse of his own image in Ginny's full-length mirror. This particular shirt fit him well when he bought it, but now it seemed a bit snug around his chest and shoulders. Since he wore school robes or tee shirts and jeans most of the time, he hadn't paid much attention to changes in his physique.

He was no contender for body-building trophies, but he had managed to sculpt and define his abdominals, pectorals, and biceps. Since his legs were covered by his jeans, he could only imagine how tight his thigh and calf muscles must be now. He hadn't taken any notice of it before, other than increased stamina during duelling practice, but he was quite sure Ginny had.

"So you've finally noticed it, have you," a sultry voice asked from behind. "I was wondering how long it would be before you realised your shirts and jeans have become a bit...tight."

Harry about jumped out of his skin. "Ginny! You're back," Harry said with a squeak in his voice. "How was the...uh...fitting?"

"The fitting went fine, but Madame Malkin poked me a few times," she said rubbing her sides. "I'll live. I see you've had a fitting of your own there, Assistant Chief Potter." Ginny smiled wickedly and wrapped her arms around him from behind. Last spring, Harry came home practically emaciated from months of deprivation on the run, so she could clasp her hands at his navel. But now, after plenty of Molly's good cooking, the fine meals at Hogwarts, and all the training exercise with the DA and the Quidditch team, her fingers barely touched. "Didn't realise you're such a hottie, did you?"

You're a right hottie yourself, Miss Weasley. "Me? Nah," Harry snickered, turning around to take her in his arms. " I just have to keep myself in condition to keep equal to your...shall we say...energy?"

She giggled as he leaned in to give her one of his signature mind-blowing kisses. He'd always thought of her as too beautiful to ever understand what she saw in him, but she must've seen something he didn't notice. He did notice, though, that his jeans were feeling a bit tight all of a sudden.

Harry reluctantly broke their kiss, sending a wave of his love and desire through their bond. "I hate to say this, love, but we need to be going soon." He continued to hold her and nuzzle her neck.

Ginny laid her head against his chest and held him closer. "But just standing here with you, like this, is so nice..." She sighed as she nestled her head further into his defined chest and listened to the comforting beat of his heart. She returned his wave and he kissed the top of her head.

"Come on. Get changed if you're going to so we can go," Harry said. It was quite obvious that Ginny didn't want them to leave this room and wondered what had gotten into her. She loved the few times they visited Teddy before school started again in September, but today, she didn't seem to want to go. "Ginny, did something happen in Diagon Alley today," Harry asked her. "You don't seem to want to leave the house."

She didn't answer, but chose a lighter blouse from her closet and changed out of her jumper. She didn't look angry, but when he asked his question, her eyes went dull. "I'm ready," she said, a little shaken. "Let's go then."

"Not so fast, Ginevra Molly Weasley. I asked you a question," he said a little too insistently. "What happened?"

"Nothing," Ginny said. "We Flooed to the Leaky Cauldron like we always do, said hello to Tom and a few..."

"A few...what, Ginny. Tell me," Harry demanded. "What happened!"

"We were recognised by the people in Diagon Alley, but most of them were nice. Some asked for autographs, others congratulated me on my Harpies contract...nothing that we couldn't have expected, " Ginny told him. "But someone must have alerted the press, because when we stepped out from Madame Malkin's, there were a group of them waiting for us..." Ginny stopped talking, uncertain as how to continue.

"Did they hurt you," Harry asked, clearly annoyed. "Did they..."

"No, they didn't, but it really upset Mum. If nothing else, she got a clear understanding of what it's like for you...for us. But we're all right," Ginny assured him, hoping he'd let the thing drop.

"So why are you so evasive? Why don't you want to go anywhere now? You've been looking forward to this party," Harry quizzed her. "This isn't you, Gin. I can feel your nervousness. Please tell me what happened."

"Harry, it's just been a very stressful morning. I've been poked, prodded, and mobbed..." she began to cry.

"Ginny? Baby? What the ruddy hell happened out there," Harry asked, becoming angry now. "Was Rita Skeeter among them?

Ginny burst into new tears, answering Harry's question without a word. "Oh Harry, she was horrible. She...she asked my mum...she asked Mum how I...Oh Harry!"

Molly and Ginny Apparated just inside the Leaky Cauldron. It was busy as usual, but no one seem to take much notice. Ginny thought perhaps a lot of the fervour had died down about herself and Harry, since Lee had been quite diligent in his occasional releases to the Prophet and due to Xeno Lovegood's well-written articles in The Quibbler.

"Hello, Mrs Weasley! Miss Ginny! Out for some shopping today," Tom called from the bar. He paused from polishing the highly-lacquered surface and leaned over. "Wedding shopping, is it?"

"Hello, Tom. Yes, Ginny has a fitting for her wedding gown this morning with Madame Malkin," Molly replied proudly.

"Well then, have a good day in Diagon Alley, ladies. Lovely as ever, Molly," Tom winked as they made for the rear of the pub.

"Mum, Tom fancies you," Ginny teased as her mother tapped the appropriate bricks with her wand. The bricks rearranged themselves and created an opening into Diagon Alley.

"Oh no, dear," Molly said, blushing. "He's just got a warped sense of humour. He's been friends with your father and me for years. We were in the same year at Hogwarts, you know."

Molly and Ginny realised they had been running a bit behind already, since Ginny didn't want to get out of bed, but now they were almost late. They walked as fast as they could toward Madame Malkin's shop, reaching it without drawing too much attention. Ginny did stop to sign a photo from Witch Weekly for a seven-year-old girl who looked like she had met Merlin himself. It was one thing to politely excuse or ignore the adult "fans," but children were another matter.

Once inside Madame Malkin's, Ginny relaxed. She felt like a princess in her wedding dress. Madame Malkin adjusted it to fit her perfectly, accidentally poking her a few times. "Oh! I'm so sorry, dear," she said each time.

Once alterations were noted, Ginny changed back into her street clothes and she and Molly left the shop. They hadn't taken three steps before a mob of reporters converged on them. The rumour of their presence had clearly spread faster than a secret at Hogwarts. An unpleasantly familiar voice rang out above the din.

"Mrs Weasley! Miss Weasley! A word, if you please." Rita Skeeter slinked toward them, trapping them against the wall of another shop.

"Well, if it isn't a mule hiding in a herd of unicorns," Molly sneered. She knew all about Rita's horrible treatment of Harry and Hermione in her… work. Back in Ron's, Harry's, and Hermione's fourth year at Hogwarts when Harry had been roped into the Triwizard Tournament, Molly had allowed herself to be taken in by it when Rita reported for Witch Weekly that Hermione was playing Harry for a fool with 'the Bulgarian bon-bon', Viktor Krum.

She felt a wave of shame wash over her as she recalled how shabbily she had treated her future daughter-in-law that year at Easter, and just before the last Triwizard task. Molly decided she would not allow this woman to twist anything she or Ginny might say, so she decided to make herself perfectly clear. "Just give me a reason, Rita," Molly finally said, pointing her wand at the other woman's nose. "Back off."

Rita stepped back, her eyes on Molly's wand. "Now, now. I'm just doing my job, after all. Just one or two teensy questions?" Before Molly could turn away, Rita blurted out her questions without leave. "Mrs Weasley, how does it feel to know you have a torrid love triangle going on right under your own roof, and how does your daughter remain friends with Miss Granger while they share Mr Potter? And that tall, handsome youngest son of yours caught in the middle..." Rita pretended sympathy, but her eyes were full of pure venom. Her colleagues fell silent, quills and parchment at the ready for anything Molly or Ginny might say.

Does she really believe her own lies? All of a sudden, the air began to crackle and Ginny's breathing became ragged. Molly turned to usher her daughter away from this band of cut-throats, but froze mid-action. Ginny's hair had begun to fly about her head and shoulders. Her hands had turned out at the end of stock-straight arms, as a shriek from seemingly nowhere cut through the street causing the ground to tremble.

"Ginny, dear. Calm down," she said softly, putting her arm protectively around her daughter's shoulders. "She isn't worth losing your temper…Ginevra Weasley!"

Ginny shrugged off her mother's arm, but spoke not a word. She drew in a deep, sweeping breath and screamed, "No!" Before anyone could register Ginny's cry, there was a blinding white light, a shout, and then silence. The air continued to crackle as Ginny collapsed against her mother, panting and sobbing.

All around them lay the herd of reporters, stunned unconscious, but otherwise unharmed. The only one still standing was Rita Skeeter, her hair singed, her robes tattered, her glassed cracked, and her ever-present acid-green Quick Quotes Quill and pad of parchment incinerated. The remnants of the quill hung loosely from her shaking fingers.

Molly sized her up and then began to laugh as her eyes rested at Rita's feet. There was a small puddle under the disgraced journalist, and a smell Molly associated with diaper changes soon filled the air around her. Molly allowed herself a moment of sadistic glee, but then collected herself and drew her wand again. "Don't you ever come anywhere near or write another word about me or mine again, Rita Skeeter, for the day you do will be the day you will wish you were dead. And mark me, you malicious pixie—that includes Harry Potter and Hermione Granger."

In a state of shock, Rita nodded absently and backed away, stumbling over the still unconscious forms of her colleagues. Rita landed on her bum with a revealing ploof!

There was a round of cheers and applause as a few onlookers came over to Molly, asking if they could help her with her daughter. "Allow me to congratulate you," one middle-aged witch said. "You finally put that vile woman in her place!"

"It's a dirty job, but somebody had to do it," Ginny said weakly, pulling herself up straight.

"I think the manure that woman shovels finally revealed its origin..." one wizard grinned as he sniffed in Rita Skeeter's direction and pulled a face. Without another word, Rita Skeeter Disapparated, too scared and too embarrassed to speak.

"And it looks as though you and your mother were the ones to have broken her story," the congratulating witch said. "And all our best to you and your young Auror, Miss Weasley. Well done, ladies!"

The crowd began to disperse, but a few wizards remained with Molly and Ginny, escorting them safely to the Leaky Cauldron, where they could Floo home.

"That certainly explains the hit I took earlier," Harry said. "I felt this massive jolt of mixed emotion from you not too long ago—it must've been during your…ah…power surge," Harry said thoughtfully. "It nearly knocked me down, and would have if Ron hadn't been right behind me to catch…Ginny, baby, I'm sorry."

Ginny began to cry again. "Oh, no! Harry, are you hurt?" Ginny's face filled with pure horror. "This is…Harry!" She slumped against him with a new series of pitiful sobs, clutching his now-soaked shirt, her shoulders shaking.

"Hurt? Me? Not at all. It only felt like Dobby's Bludger had slammed into my stomach, but otherwise, I'm fine, love," Harry said with a soothing tone as he planted little kisses onto the top of her head.

"Harry, I just know this is going to be in the Prophet tomorrow morning," Ginny sobbed. "And you're going to be in trouble with Chief Dawlish, and… I can see the headlines now: Harry Potter's Fiancée Unstable. Ginny Weasley Out of Control in Diagon Alley—Mother Outraged."

Harry began to laugh. "Ginny, you performed a great public service today! You put that Skeeter cow in her place, and it sounds like you left her sitting in her laurels as well," Harry said, his eyes twinkling. "And you have appreciative witnesses, so if anything comes of it, you'll have plenty of support. And to be honest, I think John's going to love it. Rita's been known to run down the Auror Office in her day."

"But Harry, what about the Prophet," Ginny sniffled.

"Oh the Prophet'll definitely eat this up, but not in the way you think. Gin, you're a hero. The headlines should read Harry Potter's Fiancée Takes Out the Trash. Ginny Weasley Dishes the Dirt on Rita Skeeter—Mother Proud."

"You really think so," Ginny asked him hopefully.

Harry laughed again, pulling away to look into Ginny's moist eyes. "Absolutely. Listen, if it makes you feel any better, you have my full support and I'm sure your brothers and Hermione will stand with us. If we have to, we'll send a press release through Lee, okay?"

"O-okay. I-if you say so," Ginny agreed wiping her eyes. "Harry, your shirt…"

"I have other shirts. Besides, I may never wash this one again. In fact, I might frame it," he said, his green eyes twinkling.

"Frame it? Whatever for," Ginny asked, wiping her face on a towel, to get rid of the tears. She disliked crying.

"It's been rinsed with the tears of the most beautiful witch in the world. It's now priceless." Harry turned her face up to his and kissed the rest of her tears away. "Your tears are precious to me, Gin. And if I can help it, there won't be many, unless they're happy ones. Your tears'll be a rare commodity." He began to chuckle at her as an embarrassed smile crept across her face.

"You are a rare commodity—one of a kind," she said, pulling his messy raven head down for a kiss. "And I might frame you myself. I love you, Harry James Potter."

"I know. Now let's go celebrate Teddy's first birthday."

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"Harry, Ginny! Welcome! I'm so happy the Weasleys have come, too," Andromeda welcomed them cordially.

Moments later, Teddy came running into the hallway, if running is what one might call it. It looked more like competitive waddling.

"Oh, he's walking and running already," Molly exclaimed, clapping her hands to her face. "And so soon, too!"

"Oh yes," Andromeda said proudly. "Dora walked early too, you know."

"Did she really," Molly said in awe. "Like mother, like son."

Harry looked at Teddy. He had grown quite a lot. The last time Harry had seen him, he was little more than a newborn, but now he was a growing toddler. Harry got down on his knees and Teddy stopped in front of him, holding Mrs Tonks' skirts.

"Hello Teddy, remember me? I'm Harry, your godfather." He has Remus' eyes...at least he does right now.

"Pa," Teddy asked looking at Harry before turning to Mrs Tonks.

She smiled and nodded, noticing Harry's alarm. "He calls every man Pa and every woman Ma," she assured him.

Teddy changed his hair to messy, black, and long, and his eyes to emerald green. Ginny crouched down next to Harry. "Ma," Teddy said. Ginny nodded while Teddy changed his hair to match Ginny's.

Just as Teddy began to open his presents, there was another knock on the door. It was Bill and Fleur, whose belly was getting really big. Their baby was due in early May.

"Fleur, you're perfectly radiant," Molly beamed, carefully hugging her daughter-in-law. "Andy, isn't she lovely?"

"You look beautiful, Fleur. You must be very excited," Andromeda said, hugging her.

"We are very excited. Beel has found ze most beautiful cradle in a Muggle antique shop. 'Ee 'as sharmed eet to rock on eet's own when ze baby is laid in eet," Fleur told him. "Beel is very clever."

Teddy charmed the entire assembly, revelling in all the love and attention he received, especially from his godfather. The others gathered round when it was time for Teddy to open his birthday presents. Ginny held the present he and Ginny had chosen for last. They sat holding hands and exchanging anticipatory glances with one another.

Teddy ripped the paper off the box and Andromeda helped him open it. Inside was a toy flying broom just like the one Sirius had given Harry on his first birthday, but this one had been manufactured by the same company that built Ginny's Firebolt.

It wasn't long before Teddy knew how it worked, and with Harry's help, guidance, and attention, he coasted about the room with his little toes dragging along the floor as though he were born to it. "Pa-pa-pa-pa-pa," Teddy cried as he drifted through the room. Ginny watched as he held onto Teddy while the little boy glided only about a foot off the floor. She smiled to herself at the sight of her beloved Harry working so well with a small child. He had been robbed of this part of his life, yet he was such a natural with a toddler nonetheless. The rest of the company chuckled and cheered as Teddy buzzed by, squealing with laughter.

"Harry, he's a natural," Arthur called from the doorway. "He'll be a champion Seeker one day, just wait and see!"

"Chaser," Ginny added, jerked from her reverie.

"Beater," called George.

"Keeper," called Ron.

"At this rate, he's a one-man championship Quidditch team," Harry replied, chuckling. "How 'bout that, Teddy? You'll be indispensable!" Everyone laughed at the joke as they watched Harry play with the little boy. Even Molly had a few tears in her eyes as she looked on.

Harry gazed at Ginny briefly as he guided Teddy in for a landing. She smiled and sent a wave through their bond, mouthing I love you. Harry winked at her, glanced down at Teddy, and then back at her. I know, he mouthed and lifted his mildly protesting godson off the broom.

"Off we go, now, Champ. We'll fly again later." Holding a squirming Teddy, he returned her wave and walked over to deposit him in her lap. His hair immediate changed from black to red and his eyes from green to brown, as he began to giggle and pull her hair.

"Ma!"

"You had to give him a broom," Molly asked trying to sound sharp, but smiling at the happy boy now pulling on her daughter's necklace with one fist and her hair with the other.

"I can't wait to take him on a real broom." Harry said. "But not 'til next summer, when he's a bit steadier."

Hermione sighed. Of all things in the Wizarding world, she never understood the big deal about flying about on brooms. Her gift was a children's edition of The Tales of Beedle the Bard, a book she considered essential to any child's beginning library. This edition was printed in English as opposed to the precious one Dumbledore had willed her, which was printed in Ancient Runes.

"There's a surprise," Harry snorted good-naturedly. "Guess what? Hermione got Teddy a book!"

"Hey," Ron shouted, shooting a wary look at his older brother. "What's wrong with a book?"

"Just joking, Hermione. No offence intended," Harry said in mock shame.

"None taken," Hermione said airily as she gazed at Ron. I love it when he defends me.

"Thank you. Hermione. Teddy loves bedtime stories, even if he doesn't quite understand them yet," Mrs Tonks said. "And that particular volume is a classic!"

Much to just about everyone's chagrin, Aunt Muriel arrived, blustering her way into the room. Harry almost regretted having left his invisibility cloak at Hogwarts."Ah, William," she began as she stared at Fleur, "you'd better keep an eye on your missus. She's growing fat as a cow, you know. And Fleur," she continued unchecked, "soon it'll be you giving a birthday party."

Without waiting for an answer, she turned to Arthur and Molly. "And how are you, Arthur? Have you brought home any interesting cursed Muggle items lately," she asked snidely. Arthur appeared to ignore her, but Molly leered angrily at her rude aunt.

Andromeda had heard plenty of stories about Mad Muriel Prewett. She already knew how unpopular she was with the Weasleys, so she had prepared herself to get the drop on the old biddy.

"I'm Andromeda Black Tonks, sister of the psychotic murderess, Bellatrix Black Lestrange and grandmother of the half-werewolf, Teddy Lupin." She had beaten Muriel Prewett to the punch and felt gratified at the snickers and giggles of those within earshot. She had rendered Muriel Prewett speechless!

"Harry," Aunt Muriel called cordially to get away from Andromeda as soon as possible. He shook her hand and tried not to laugh. Andromeda's self-introduction was perfect and Harry silently applauded her for it. One word about Ginny's honour or the way she dresses and I'll nail you to the wall, you wicked old hag. I won't be so perfectly charming then, will I?

Soon, more guests arrived and the party began in earnest. Andromeda baked a gorgeous chocolate cake and placed a single candle in its centre. Harry held him and tried to teach Teddy to blow the candle out.

"Okay, Champ. Blow out the candle," Harry said to Teddy, showing him what to do. Teddy just wiggled and giggled while Harry made a complete fool of himself in front of the entire clan and their friends. Finally, the candle burned too short, so Harry had to help the small boy blow out his candle.

"Now, as I understand it," Harry began, jouncing Teddy on his hip. "The birthday boy gets the first piece. Am I right?"

"That's right," Hermione said. "That's the way I was taught. Ron?"

"That's how we always do it, right, Gin-Gin," Ron agreed, passing the question to his sister.

"Absolutely. And no one else can eat their cake until he's had his first bite," Ginny said with a single nod at Teddy.

"Well, if you're going to volunteer to clean him up..." Andromeda said with a twinkle.

"We'll clean him up, Andromeda," Harry agreed. "Won't we, Gin?"

"Of course," she said curtly. "But ah...no magic."

Harry looked up quickly at his fiancée. "What? No ma..."

"No magic. That's cheating," she teased. "Tub, water, naked baby, soap, towel, nappy, and clean pyjamas."

The assembly laughed at Harry's new predicament, but he took it all in stride. "Well, I guess I'll have to learn eventually, but I'll scourgify." Harry sat down with Teddy in his lap. "Okay, Teddy. Let's see if we can keep the mess to a minimum," he pleaded with the child as his grandmother served him a sliver of cake. "Here we go."

Teddy dropped his right fist slam into the cake. "Pa-pa-pa-pa-pa!" In minutes, the boy had covered himself and his godfather in chocolate.

"Thanks, Teddy. You're a real mate," Harry said, now resigning himself to the task he agreed to.

"Care for some ice cream, Teddy," Andromeda asked the child sadistically.

"Ma-ma-ma-ma-ma," Teddy cried, reaching for the bowl.

"Sorry, Champ. It's a spoon for this stuff. It's too cold for hands," Harry said, scooping some of the frozen dessert onto Teddy's little spoon. "Open wide. Here it comes!" Teddy watched as Harry pretended to fly the ice cream to his mouth on the spoon, and opened his mouth. Harry shoveled it in successfully. The onlookers cheered.

"Good one, Teddy," Ron laughed. "You got it right the first time."

"Spoken like a true glutton," Hermione giggled. "Try again, Harry!"

"Okay, here it comes again, Ted." Harry repeated the flying manoeuvre with the next bite. Teddy opened his mouth, but just before Harry got the spoon all the way in, the little boy shut his mouth over the bowl of the spoon and blew a raspberry. Ice cream flew all over, splattering Harry and Ginny.

"Ma-ma-ma-ma-ma," Teddy laughed. "Pththththt...!"

"All right, that's it. You're finished," Ginny said resignedly. "Bath time for you, mister." She and Harry rose from the table with a very chocolatey little boy in Harry's arms.

"His bath things are in the bathroom at the end of that hall, Ginny. You'll find some nappies in there too," Andromeda told her.

"We'll be back," Harry said confidently. "Let's go, Champ."

As soon as Harry and Ginny disappeared down the hall with the baby, Aunt Muriel excused herself to return home early, citing her advanced age. Everyone knew the real truth. With that baby around, she had lost a potential audience for her audacity. Conversation became much more relaxed Andromeda's reports of Teddy's progress from infancy to toddlerhood, and advice offered to Fleur.

Harry and Ginny reappeared about half an hour later, duly scourgified, with a clean Teddy on Ginny's hip. The elder adults regaled them all with tales of their children as babies and toddlers, much to the chagrin of most of the Weasley children.

Following the promised second fly around the room for the benefit of those who had missed Teddy's first flight, the very tired little boy, replete with messy black hair, fell asleep on the sofa with Molly's pullover as a pillow. The toy broom lay next to him with his little fist clutched around the handle. Molly smoothed his hair and caressed his cheek. This could easily be Harry at this age.

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"How are the plans progressing? Are my Muggle targets under surveillance," Mafalda asked her two Death Eater servants.

"Yes, my lady. However, tailing them is more difficult than we anticipated," the first one answered.

"Why?"

"Well...there are those Muggle photographers. Rastafaris or something like that..."

"No, stupid! Rapapazzis. That's what they call them," the second one claimed.

"Is it really important whatever the Muggles call them," Mafalda asked sarcastically.

Both of them looked at their leader. "No, ma'am, it's not. I'm sorry. However, they take pictures for the Muggle tabloids and are able to do so at a great distance. It's very difficult to keep track of them so they won't get any pictures of us."

"Does it affect our plan?"

"No my lady, once you give us the go-ahead, we move in, snatch our Muggle, Apparate to our target location, and carry out your orders," the first one said.

"If one of the Zapparappers get a picture, they won't publish it until we've already finished our task...and then it won't matter." The second servant sighed again. Sure, Muggle words were confusing, but how hard could it be?

"Good. I'm awaiting the right time to strike. With all the new Aurors together at Hogwarts, they can probably mount a counterstrike rather quickly. We can't move in until after Hogwarts lets out in June. In the meantime, I will continue to confuse the Ministry. I have another plan that involves Mr Malfoy. I think it's time to for me to see him in person. See to it. Use Hermione Granger's plan this time. Set up a tent in a random forest. I must admit, it was actually a brilliant way to stay hidden."

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Hermione found the constabulary that had investigated Mafalda's mother's death, since the information was all now part of public record. With any luck, the constables and detectives in charge of the case still worked out of there, and with a Confundus and Legilimency, they just might learn a few things not stored in the computers. Harry, Hermione and Ron dressed in Muggle clothes and planned to head out right after breakfast Monday morning. Even if it was early in April, it felt very much like spring. Winter didn't have a strong foothold this year.

Professor McGonagall had allowed Hermione the day off, and that worried Hermione more than going on a mission. "How will I get a NEWT if I don't study, and even worse, miss my classes?"

Ron sighed. "I'll help you study, all right?"

Hermione laughed. "Exactly how will you help me with Ancient Runes and History of Magic? That's what I miss today."

"What a loss that is," Ron sighed. "I'm going with Harry to see Hagrid. Ginny might join us too. Harry wants to ask him if he will teach him to drive the motorcycle. That way, I'll help you loads on your studies by staying out of your way."

Hermione smiled. "I'll give you lesson one right now, Ron. It's called riding a bike, not driving a motorcycle."

After breakfast, Harry, Ron and Hermione headed for the gate in order to escape the wards. They Apparated to a small town and soon found the police station. Hermione entered with Harry and Ron two steps behind her.

"Hello, sir," Hermione greeted a young policeman, most certainly never addressed as sir, and gave him a sweet smile.

"Ma'am," he replied.

Hermione scanned the list of policemen working at the station. Homicide listed only one name, an inspector.

"I would like to see Inspector Brown," she said. In the same moment Harry cast a non verbal Confundus at the policeman.

"Second floor, third office to the right," he replied and answered the phone that hadn't rung.

It was a pleasure to watch Hermione pull this act off. Even if she considered herself a bookworm, she was brilliant at operations like this. She never got nervous, or if she did, she never showed it. They headed for the second floor and found Inspector Brown. "Good morning, sir. We need a few minutes of your time," Hermione said politely.

He invited them in and closed the door. Harry was amazed at how smoothly the ruse had played out so far. Harry had been tempted to use the Imperius curse to comply with the Secrecy Act, but he had forbidden his team to use it, so he wasn't going to either. A strong Confundus charm would do just as well and there would be no paperwork involved.

"Confundo," Harry muttered, casting the charm. The inspector's eyes slipped out of focus, so there would be no problem getting him to do what they needed him to do. He nodded to Hermione to confirm the inspector was hers.

"All right, Inspector Brown. I need to see everything you have on the murder of a Mrs Prewett a few years ago," Hermione ordered.

"I remember that one. I handled the investigation myself. We never found a single trace of evidence and no cause of death. It's the biggest mystery this town has ever seen."

Inspector Brown tapped at the keyboard and printed a few pages and handed them over to Hermione. Next, she asked him to look for Mr Prewett. He gave them a last-known address, but it was listed three years before. After that, she told him to log out of the system. She, Harry and Ron read the report. It was an obvious case of a victim murdered by use of the killing curse. Mrs Prewett's remains showed no signs of trauma, no toxins in her blood or tissue, no evidence of sexual abuse, no evidence whatsoever that she should be dead.

Her wedding ring was still on her finger, her pocketbook contained a fair amount of cash, her home had not been ransacked, nothing appeared to be missing, she had no outstanding debts, and no criminal record. There was no motive and no reason that this woman should have ended up dead. That was all the file contained. For a wizard, this was an obvious case of murder by the killing curse. Of course, Mafalda and the Death Eaters involved would have no interest in Muggle valuables, so it stood to reason that nothing was taken.

While Harry still held Inspector Brown Confunded, Ron cast Legilimens to find out what Brown had experienced while he investigated the murder.

Inspector Brown swore. He had been on his way home to his wife's wonderful cooking, when he was called to a crime scene, a suspected murder no less. Brown couldn't remember when there was a murder last in this town. He had worked on the force in London and was the only one here who had ever actually investigated a murder case. Thinking of it, he remembered being told there had been a murder here during the war, some nutter who was convinced his neighbour was a German spy. Well, at least that was the story at first, until the police broke into the suspect's house and found him in bed with the neighbour's wife. Yes, that was the last murder. Of all the times for another one, it had to be now. Bloody hell!

Inspector Brown stopped at the address he'd been given and stepped out of his car. Surely they could have gotten the people on duty to follow the field manual and conduct a proper crime scene investigation. But the chief had been very specific when he ordered him to report to the place on the double. Bollocks!

After a few minutes at the scene, Brown started to understand his chief. Normally when someone was murdered in their home, there was some kind of evidence of violence. In this case, there wasn't. It was like she had fallen asleep on the floor. Clearly the murderer must be a friend or a relative because there were no signs of a break-in. Even though it was the doctor's task to determine the cause of death, one could usually get a good idea at the scene. Someone shot in the head, strangled, beaten to death, or whatever showed evidence of it. A doctor would use other expressions, 'shot in the head' was called 'severe trauma to the brain.'

Mrs Prewett's body showed no signs of violence of any kind. Mr Brown wondered why they suspected a murder. Wasn't it more likely she was stoned and killed herself with an overdose? No, some neighbours had heard raised voices and seen some shady people leave the place. That's when they called the police.

The murder of Mrs Prewett hit dead ends everywhere. All substance tests came back negative. The doctors were gob smacked, and even an ambitious expert brought in from London had to confess his defeat on this one. It was with a lot of frustration that Inspector Brown finally closed the file and called off the investigation. The only thing he could do now was put out an alert for the daughter and the husband. They were both missing, and of course he wanted to interrogate them. But they weren't suspects so he couldn't issue a warrant for their arrest either. Bugger!

Ron left Inspector Brown's mind and Harry lifted his Confundus charm. Hermione cast a memory charm to erase the inspector's memory of them ever having visited. They left before Inspector Brown startled back to reality from what he thought was his mind drifting away. He took a sip of the coffee on his desk. It was cold. Didn't he just pour it a minute ago? His mind must have drifted longer than he thought. He smiled as he looked at the warm spring day outside and got up to get another cup of hot coffee.

Harry, Ron and Hermione left the police station with the report and Apparated to the Ministry of Magic. They changed into robes and for the first time, Harry and Ron put on the Auror insignia. They headed for the Auror office to talk about what they had learned along with Chief Dawlish.

"Obviously, Mafalda killed her own mother using the killing curse," Ron claimed.

"Or Tom had a Death Eater do it for her, but it does seem fitting that she did it herself, with Riddle encouraging her to do it," Hermione agreed.

"However we don't have any evidence," Harry sighed.

"True, but if necessary, it's enough to bring her in for questioning," Dawlish said. "I'll issue the orders just in case. Any luck finding her father?"

"All we got on him was a three-year-old address, but we'll check it out," Ron said.

"Good work. What the Muggle police report doesn't say really says it all, doesn't it," Dawlish said sighing down at the documents.

After lunch with Arthur and Percy at the Ministry, they returned to Hogwarts. Hermione was overjoyed to be back in time for her History of Magic class, while Harry and Ron had to write their mission report. They didn't look forward to it, but they could think of changing places with Hermione and listen to Professor Binns for three hours, instead of sitting in the Hogwarts grounds enjoying the sun. They chose to write their reports outside in the sun.

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"Mr Malfoy, you have a visitor," a secretary told him. She was the one person making his very boring work at the Muggleworthy Excuse Office worth getting up for every morning. Her name was Astoria Greengrass and she was two years younger than he. She was one of the Slytherins who chose not to return to Hogwarts. Instead, she had got crappy employment at the Ministry. Draco had not known her very well at Hogwarts, because she was two years behind him. He knew of her sister, Daphne because she was in his year, also a Slytherin.

Being the only Slytherins in the office, they had started to talk during breaks and over lunch together. They both knew being assigned to the Muggleworthy Excuse Office was an inviolable way of insulting them. No Slytherin wanted to work with Muggle business. Despite their hard work, neither of them were really trusted by their colleagues. On the other hand, no one treated them badly in any way.

Draco had asked her out on Valentine's Day, more out of friendship than any other reason. That date had nonetheless made both of them consider the other as more just colleagues or friends. He had, however, not asked her for a date.

The visitor was unknown to Malfoy. "I'm here on behalf of Milady," he said plainly, "and I bring a gift." The unknown visitor placed a rock on the desk. "This rock is from Azkaban. I suggest you take it as a reminder," he hissed and nodded towards the rock.

Malfoy had a bad feeling about this, but had no choice but to accept the rock. Not too surprised, he felt a jerk from behind his navel. The rock had been a Portkey that landed him in the main room of a tent. "There's no need trying to escape Mr Malfoy," a female voice said behind him. "The wards around this tent are in place. Of course, there's no need trying to figure out where we are. Once you leave, we will take down the tent and be gone."

Draco slowly turned around and looked upon a girl about the same age as Astoria. But this one he didn't recognise from Hogwarts. He was certain of that. Of course there were a lot of girls in the other houses, but there was something about this girl. He would have remembered meeting her before, but still there was something familiar about her. "Have we met before," he asked.

"No, but I've visited your family's manor," she replied.

Malfoy realised who she was. This was the mysterious guest Voldemort had chose never to bring into the room, the unknown Death Eater. "Who are you?"

"I'm Mafalda Prewett."

"You knew the Dark Lord," Malfoy partially asked, partially concluded.

"Yes, I knew the Dark Lord very well. He was my tutor."

Malfoy evaluated his situation. He couldn't do anything but play along. He was most certainly in a remote area in a tent protected by every ward possible. "Why have you brought me here?"

So, this was the one. The Death Eater supposedly interested in taking over the Ministry. "Look Miss Prewett. I can't get you into the Ministry."

"I don't need your help to get into the Ministry. I want you to deliver a letter. To Harry Potter. Don't worry, it's not cursed. I merely wanted to congratulate him as we're becoming family. Yes, I'm a relative of Ginny Weasley."

Malfoy didn't believe a word of what she said. But he had no options. "So why don't use an owl? I'm sure Lee Jordan would send a letter from you on to Potter."

"You are of course right. But I wanted to meet you. There's one thing I wanted to ask you face to face."

Malfoy looked at her for a while. "Mafalda. I do sense your attempts to break into my mind."

She showed no sign of being offended. "Good. I wanted to be sure you did. I also sense you trying to read my mind."

"Worth a try," Malfoy shrugged.

"I was taught by the Dark Lord himself."

"Well, I was taught by Professor Snape, who deceived the Dark Lord for many years," Malfoy challenged. "Was there anything else on your mind than asking me to serve as your owl?"

"There is one more thing. Potter is trying to interfere with my plans. I need you to stop him."

"I won't kill him. Not that I'd mourn his death, but I can't afford any crimes."

"No, of course not. All I need is the date of his wedding. I know he'll be busy that day. Will you help me," Mafalda asked.

Malfoy thought about it. "What would I gain from helping you?"

"A better job."

"You know, Mafalda, Potter's wedding is probably one of the most secure arrangements in the country. I'm not a person anyone would tell."

Mafalda had thought of that. Malfoy could see it in her smile. "Then you'll have to ask someone who has surely been invited, who is not a person. That oaf, Hagrid, is notorious for his inability to keep a secret."

"I'll see what I can do, because Hagrid is protected too. I'm not exactly a person who ran roam Hogwarts unnoticed and breaking in there is as difficult as breaking into Gringotts."

Mafalda seemed pleased and nodded towards a rubber glove. "That glove is your port key out of here. Someone will contact you."

Malfoy grabbed the glove and was returned to London. A while later, he returned to the Ministry, his mind wandering as he headed for his desk. What had he learned? Mafalda was very intelligent. Clearly her identity was already known by Potter. Nothing she told him would probably matter to her if he told Potter. She would most certainly suspect a false date and a trap. Was that was she was hoping for? Emptying the Ministry to mount an attack? Malfoy came to a conclusion. Mafalda wanted to put him to the test. Where did his loyalties lie? So far he had been able to balance between them. Could he keep that up or did he have to decide?

His thought were interrupted by Astoria. "Mr Malfoy. I never saw you leave."

He looked at her. He had to think about his next cause of action concerning Mafalda, but now it was time to do something about Astoria. "Please, it's Draco, at least when it's just the two of us. Mr Malfoy still makes me think someone is talking to my father."

"Draco," she smiled. "I like that. Very forceful. Very..."

"Astoria," Draco began nervously, his hands jammed in his pockets. We've shared a lot of lunches together, but... I... I wanted to ask you if you'd like to have dinner with me tonight... as a date... a dinner date... unless you..."

Astoria looked at Draco and nodded. "I'd like that very much."

"You would? I mean... thanks," Draco stammered.

"Draco?"

"Yes?"

"What time should I expect you and do you know where I live?" She had one of those smiles—the kind that says I know you're nervous and I think it's cute.

"Oh, right. Uh...I can get your address from your file, but I'd rather you gave it to me yourself," he replied, regaining some of his Malfoy confidence. "How about seven?"

"Seven is fine." She wrote on a bit of parchment and handed it to him. "You can Floo in if you like or...Apparate. Whichever you like. My sister won't be home this evening."

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Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione knocked at Hagrid's door that evening.

"Oh, it's you. Come on in, you lot." The big man ushered them in. Hagrid pushed Fang away to make room for them at his table. Soon he served a cup of tea. "Ginny, I watched yer practice with the team. We'll win the ruddy House Cup. Me firs' year as Head o' Gryffindor an' all," Hagrid beamed, his beetle eyes shining.

"We'll do our best," Ginny promised.

"All you need to do is beat Slytherin in the next game. You have a chance to beat the record as the best team ever," Harry said. He was right. Slytherin had only lost against Gryffindor. If Gryffindor beat Slytherin, the House Cup would be theirs. The final game against Ravenclaw wouldn't matter. However, Ginny and her Chasers had scored a lot, in fact, so many goals that they had a chance to break the record.

Harry turned to Hagrid. "You know Sirius' bike. Arthur repaired it and gave it to me. However I can't drive... ride it... and you're the only one I know who can. Would you teach me, Hagrid?"

Hagrid looked at Harry. He reminded him of Professor Dumbledore more and more. Who else would ask someone like Hagrid for help, other than someone like Harry Potter or Albus Dumbledore?

"O' course I'll teach yer," Hagrid promised.

"Great! Thanks! Do you think we can hide it in the Forest?"

"Sure. No problem," Hagrid said, encouraged by the idea. There had been very little rule-breaking lately. It felt rather refreshing to sneak an illegally—but perfectly harmless—enchanted motorcycle into the forest.

"Why don't you just ask Professor McGonagall for permission," Hermione asked.

"Because it's an illegal cursed object she'd have to hand over to the Ministry," Harry explained.

"And as such, it would end up at the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office where Dad used to work," Ron continued, which caused Harry to consider the possibility that there might be another such object locked up there. No way, Potter. Even if there was, you couldn't get at it...or could you?

"All right. I'll help you," Hermione sighed.

"Thanks love," Ron said, kissing her cheek. "I know I can always count on you."

On the way back to the castle, Harry decided to put the Aurors to work. He would send them out to gather information about Mafalda's father. Whatever he might know could be very useful in the apprehension of his daughter.