A/N: I do not own or profit from Harry Potter.

EDIT: As the computer-inept little bookworm that I am, I'm having a bit of trouble with my computer/ the website. It may be a while until my next update...

Chapter 9: Workday

Percy woke to find himself dangerously close to falling off his own bed. George was curled up against him, while Charlie was on the other side of the bed in a lump of blankets.

His alarm was going off. It was 5:00.

The lump of blankets swore.

Percy turned it off. "Charlie!"

More swearing.

"Give me some covers!"

"Mm-mmph, mmph-um!"

With a sigh and a yawn, he pushed George's clinging grasp away and pulled himself out of bed. Halfway through the shower, his alarm went off again.

"I think I'm going to hurl." George complained as Charlie studied their breakfast options.

"Er, Perce, you don't have any food."

"I know." Percy buttoned his shirt. "George ate it all. Hence the oncoming hurl." He added with a look down at his bleary younger brother.

"Did I pass out?"

"In a way."

"Who's the girl?"

George and Percy stopped at the same time to look at Charlie. "What?"

Charlie ran a hand over his face and yawned wider than was commonly accepted. "There was a girl here. Last night. You were talking when I came in."

"Oh. Audrey."

"Who's she?" George asked.

"She's involved in this case I have going." Percy told him dismissively as he tied his tie.

"Percy, it's 5:30. Where are you going at 5:30?"

"Work."

"The tea's not done yet." Charlie pointed at the simmering pot sitting over the stove.

George yawned again.

"I know." Percy sat at the small table, turning his attention from Charlie to George. "How are you feeling?"

"Headache. Hungry."

Percy checked his watch. "Charlie, take George down the street. There's a shop I drop by often, get yourselves something for breakfast."

"Where're you going?"

"Work." Percy said. That ought to have been obvious by now. "I already said that."

Charlie tugged out three mugs and used his wand to fill them with tea. "No you're not. Ministry workers don't have to show up until eight, eight-thirty."

"Well, it pays to get ahead."

"No it doesn't. They don't pay you at all."

"It's a figure of speech, Charlie." Percy told him.

"Sit. Drink. You invited a girl here, and now you rush off when you don't need to." Charlie flicked his eyes toward George to make clear his meaning. "What's with work?"

Percy sat reluctantly, setting his briefcase away. "I've just had a bit of a lead on a case. My last case."

"Oh?"

"It's a murder, and I'm sure...I'm almost certain of who it was." Percy tried not to sound too proud, but he could tell from Charlie's eye roll that he had not been entirely successful.

"So?"

"So...?"

"So who is it? Chances are I know him."

Percy allowed a pompous air to slip into his voice. "Charlie, you know that the inner workings of the Ministry for Magic are confidential and not to be treated or spoken of lightly. And," He added with a glare, "They are not to be considered proper breakfast fodder."

"Suit yourself." Charlie shrugged. "But she was pretty cute."

"What?"

"Who?" George asked as if he had just realized they were talking. That probably wasn't far from the truth, Percy thought.

"The girl! The girl we're talking about."

"We are not talking about a girl."

"Yes we are." Charlie contradicted him purely for the sake of contradicting his younger brother.

Percy rose to put his mug away, signaling the conversation's end. "I'm going to work."

"Fine." Charlie shrugged. "But we all know that if you don't want to talk about it, it's because there's something there."

"Good-bye Charlie." Percy pulled on his jacket.

"You love to talk about the things you hate, and you clam up about the things you like. Ever notice that, George?"

"Good-bye George. Feel free to stay and don't forget to have Charlie get you some breakfast. And don't touch my books."

"Like Penelope Clearwater. You wouldn't talk about her, either."

Percy shut the door behind him firmly. Audrey was pretty and he was less stressed around her, but that was none of Charlie's business. Especially the part about where Percy had been admiring her throat.

No, Charlie was not going to find out about that.

He started for the Ministry telephone booth, just a block away.

Bother Charlie.

.

He checked the Hall of Records first. The long rows of stored books and scrolls seemed to go on forever, the tags on the scrolls fluttering like trapped moths as he passed by. He found the correct section and checked the family tree.

There was no record of Audrey. It was a perfect, unblemished family tree stretching back hundreds of years, all the way back to legendary figures of myth, referred to as 'gods' by the muggles.

He wasn't swayed by his finding, or lack thereof. This was Audrey's family, he was certain of it. The Ministry didn't keep records of Squib births, but there ought to at least have been a note to record that she existed for census and tax purposes. The parents had obviously determined her magical status early...or she was half-blood, which would have meant she was illegitimate as well. Percy paused at the thought.

Perhaps the mother's husband didn't know...in which case he'd best pay a visit to the ancestral home of the family as well. He put that on his mental to-do list and turned to head out. He would pass the suspected mother's family records on the way. A check of those records also found no mention of Audrey.

An illegitimate half-blood squib. A triple curse to an illustrious family of pureblood wizards. It was a miracle Audrey hadn't simply been murdered before birth. It would have saved a great deal of trouble.

He stepped into the lift and pushed the button for his floor.

And yet...would a pureblood witch really lower herself to such a level? To even create the possibility of conceiving a half-blood child? Not likely.

He entered his office, started running through what he had, trying to put things together. The office was quiet at this hour, and he worked undisturbed for some time. MacDougal, the department head, passed by once, and the ginger looked up to greet him, but other than that he was alone until the rest of the workers arrived for their workdays. Percy noted with a smirk that the witch working at the desk across from him had quite a bit of work still to do. With his workload nearly done, he would be the first to be relocated out of this office. Promotion would be sweet.

.

"Azkaban?"

"Yes, Mr. Minister." Percy was on the edge of his chair.

Shacklebolt steepled his fingers, studying Percy. "Are you sure that's wise?"

Percy shrugged, shoving down nervousness. He knew the Minister's reservations, knew his own reservations. But professionalism and professional reason squelched them and pushed him to his response. "I...It is necessary, sir. For a visit and an...interview with one of the inmates." He had already explained himself to the man across the desk, knew that now he had to convince him of his resolve.

"Perhaps it would be wiser to send another." Shacklebolt responded.

"No. No, sir, I want to do this myself." Percy could feel his palms sweating. "I know the case, and I am acquainted with the particular inmate, and I hope we both agree that I am quite familiar with our corrections system. I do not think that any other could take this case from my hands and conclude it with a diligence and understanding equal to my own. Therefore I must ask again that you give me both official permission and means to get to Azkaban Prison. And," He added, "I hope that my past period of performance under your authority has not tarnished your view of my capabilities. Indeed, I had imagined that I had already established my willingness and my ability to you, sir." He finished, keeping his eyes on the Minister's.

The Minister's face was unreadable, and Percy did not try to read it. At last, he rested his hands on his desk and nodded. "Very well, Mr. Weasley. As I am sure you are aware, there are shipments of new prisoners being sent to Azkaban each month. The next will leave on the first of August. My secretary will ensure that the paperwork is in order."

"Thank you, sir." They both rose, and shook hands.

Percy readjusted his glasses once he was outside. The Minister always made him feel small, always weak. But he had got what he wanted. Casting a derisive glance over at the lone, overworked assistant sitting behind the desk, he crossed the room and headed for the lift.

.

Lucy climbed the stairs to the attic, each one creaking beneath her. She paused when she was at the top, taking in her bearings.

The boxes of the journals she and Michael had kept together were all together, neatly labeled by years. She tugged open the one that held the journals more than twenty years old.

Spiral-bound notebooks filled the boxes. She still didn't have the heart to throw them away, knew she never would. Downstairs in her bedroom she still kept the one they had been filling out when he had died. It was only half-finished, the pages left blank signifying just how gone he was. She had tried keeping the journal on her own, but it was lacking something without his familiar, cramped handwriting there beside hers.

Shaking her head, she pushed through the box. The one in which Audrey first appeared was red, she remembered that, for it had been one that she had flipped open often, almost as often as the one chronicling the first days of marriage.

Here. This one. She opened it and read the entry again, the words written by his blue pen familiar by now. Then she flipped ahead, to the days of paperwork, and finally, the day of adoption.

She left the box where it lay and traveled back downstairs with the book in hand.

.

He headed for the Boneses residence. They'd made it clear that he was more than welcome if he had to come for work purposes. Lucy had commented on how unusual it was that he didn't seem to have an office and he had waved it off nonchalantly. He felt as if he were juggling far too many balls at once. George, keeping with the Statute of Secrecy, Michael Bones, Audrey's parentage, Audrey herself, getting to Azkaban...

He landed with a pop and knocked at the door. It was a moment before Lucy opened it with a wan smile.

"Percy." She let him in. "What news?"

"None I could quite share." He said frankly. Something about her made her feel as if he were with his own mother.

"Well, then there is some." She said pleasantly, leading him again into the breakfast nook. It struck him that though there was a front room and a living room, he'd never been asked to sit in either of those, but instead simply invited into the kitchen, the most familial domain in the house.

"Audrey is out." Lucy searched the young man's face keenly for some sign of disappointment and was disappointed herself to find it lacking. Pity. He was such a nice young man.

"Oh?"

"She's getting blood taken for a paternity test like you told her."

He nodded in the affirmative. The blood was to be picked up from the muggle hospital by a mediwitch, removed to St. Mungo's and tested against the father's...when they found him. Percy had little doubt, but he couldn't go to Azkaban until he had the results. "Copacetic."

Lucy ran her hands over a red spiraled notebook, made in the cheap muggle style. "I was looking through Michael's journals. I found what he wrote the night he found Audrey. I don't know if it will be any help..."

"May I anyways?" Percy pressed.

She nodded and handed it over.

It was twenty years old, the pages slightly brittle, and the red cover fading in places. He flipped it open to the bookmarked page and found the correct date. Entries were written in two hands: One a looping script in a red ink, and the other a cramped-up scrawl in blue. He skipped over Lucy's entry and went straight to Michael's.

13 January, 1977

Past midnight

This is one of the craziest things to happen to me in a long time.

Busy day at work, nothing out of the ordinary.

I was at Chez, as always, in the middle of dinner rush, as always. I had just walked by the bakery door when I heard this weird popping noise. Not like popping, exactly, just one pop, in the middle of all the kitchen noise.

I poked my head in there, and there was no one inside. And then Carol (she's new) nearly ran me over with a cart. She asked what I was doing (I probably looked pretty strange, but it's a good thing). And I told her I'd heard something and we kind of shrugged it off until she noticed there was blood on some of the napkins. I think she thought it was sauce and she got all mad and started pulling them all out, and then she yelled at me.

There was a baby. In the napkins.

I have no idea how she got there. Everyone got asked, even some of our patrons, and no one had any idea where it came from.

So Carol and I look down at her, and I kind of wrap her up in a napkin and put her on the table (I got in trouble because James said it's not sanitary, but since we have to sanitize the whole bakery anyways, I figured it wouldn't hurt, and Lucy agrees with me). And then we got James and the police, and they took her away. I knew it was a her because (here's what's wierd) she was still newborn. The umbilical cord was still intact and it was all slimy and bloody. She had just been born.

I hope they never find the parents (And that's not terrible, because they had their chance and they threw her away in a pile of napkins). I told Lucy about it and she was saying like everyone else how strange it was, and I asked her did she realize that that girl could be put into the foster system next week, and we could adopt her? Ever since our Anna was given to that other couple, we keep asking and the system keeps putting us off, but this one was so perfect.

I don't really know how to say it, that's why it's so crazy. But this little girl was so small and so...right. That's the only word I can think of. She was just right. Maybe it was just because she was newborn and holding her, I might have felt the way real fathers feel when their children are born. But I really, really want that baby, that one.

Lucy doesn't quite get it yet, but she said that if I wanted to take a look at the girl we could. So we will.

Percy ran his eyes back to the top of the entry. The standout sentence was obvious.

I heard this weird popping noise.

He rubbed his eyebrow. Apparition meant that whoever left the child would be impossible to trace.

He would have to get another look at the bakery, rack both women's minds for details Michael might have left behind, might have mentioned later and not in the diary.

"Was this all?"

Lucy nodded. "I mean, we wrote afterwards, about the adoption..."

Percy dropped his eyes to the pages again.

18 January, 1977,

6:32 PM

No leads on our baby. There was a blanket she was wrapped in, but I don't think they can trace it. No one saw her go in, no one saw anyone come out. She's almost a week old now, and soon we're going to go see her as it looks like she will be up for adoption. She'll be a 'blank slate', so we can pick a name. I like Jesse.

Percy skipped ahead to the next entry, this one in Lucy's red ink.

21 January, 1977

9:21 AM

I saw our baby. Michael is right, she is perfect. I don't know why. Call it mother's instinct. She has little hands and little feet and little ears. She's so much younger than any of the other infants we looked at. Her eyes are gray, and she has a little black fuzz on her head.

Michael had responded in blue again,

9:32 AM

I told you so.

James and I were talking. He said that it looks like someone might have put her on a dishcart and wheeled her in, wrapped in her blankie so she would't get blood on things, then dumped her in the bakery, put her in the oven and then moved her to the clean napkin basket, covered her with napkins, and then walked out. But she's so young she would have had to have been born within a few minutes away. So the police are in a quandry, and I'm happy because that means I can have her.

And we've narrowed names down to Deserae, Paula, or Audrey.

Percy scanned over the next few pages, found nothing more forthcoming. "Copacetic." He said. "Would you mind if I made a copy of this?"

"No, not at all." Lucy said. "I mean...I can have it back, can't I?"

"Yes, it'll only take me a moment." He slipped it into his briefcase. "Now. He mentions she was wrapped in a blanket. You wouldn't still have it, would you?"

"I do...we never used it, but it was her first blankie. I have it somewhere in the attic."

"Copacetic. I'll need it if you can find it, and as soon as possible. It may help. I will also need another look at the bakery, just to put everything in its proper perspective. I shall need you or Audrey to accompany me. And when we get the results of the paternity test, I will know who I'm looking for. I'll go and find...him, get some answers out of him."

"Audrey or I can meet you at the restaurant any time you deem convenient." Lucy replied. "You think the father's part of this group that you don't want us to know about?"

"Yes." Percy admitted. "I think he may well be. The mother may have been as well."

Lucy raised her brows. "And you think you know who they are?"

"Madam?"

"I know how paternity tests work, you have to have the father's blood as well." She reminded him. "So whose blood are you testing it against?"

Percy shifted uncomfortably. Oh yes, her style of direct questioning was very like his mother's. "Well, madam, I'm not sure that I could say."

"Ah." She gave a nod, leaned back in her chair and studied him. He met her eyes, aware that she could not be an occlumens, and even if she was his glasses were charmed to protect him from prying minds.

"Tell me something else, Percy?" She requested softly.

"Madam?"

"How are you?"

He blinked blankly. "Er...Madam?"

"How. Are. You? It's a very simple question."

"Er, yes it is, Madam. I..." He hadn't been asked the question in some time. Since the end of the war, trivial office chat had diminished into hasty demands for this, for that, requests for help, employees hurrying one another along to fix the various problems affecting the various departments. And that...that was about all the talking he did anymore, he realized. Perhaps that was why he had repeatedly responded to the Boneses offers of kindness.

Now she was making him feel guilty for not seeing his family.

He cleared his throat to buy time and think of a response. "I'm...copacetic." The word rolled off his tongue, the easiest response to difficult situations.

"And your family? Are they 'copacetic' as well?"

"Splendid. Never better." He responded calmly.

Lucy gazed at him for a long moment. "You're an unexpectedly good liar. I might actually believe you did we not both know that that is an utter fabrication."

Percy said nothing.

"All right. I can respect your wish for privacy, Percy Weasley, but I want you to know that if you ever need help or someone to talk to, I'm here. So is Audrey. We owe you enormously for your help."

"You forget it is my job." He replied, his stiff side coming through.

"Perhaps." She let the topic drop, and it seemed to Percy that the very air grew more breathable.

"Well, I will get the results of the test as soon as possible." Percy told her, eager to escape. "When we find the parent's identity, I will have a talk with them. Depending on what the results are, that could be in a few days, or as late as the first of August."

"We're willing to wait." She accepted. "And that's not so far away."

"Copacetic."

.

Audrey stared dully down at the long lines of equations and the pages of notes, then looked back at her textbook. "Know what, Davis?"

"Mm?"

"I really hate physics." She said it as if it were the first time it occurred to her, though it struck her now that she'd hated it for quite some time.

Davis looked up at her from his own work. "What?"

"I said I hate physics. I mean, really, I do. I don't…I don't really want to do this for the rest of my life."

"Audrey, you're too young to be having a mid-life crisis."

She gave him a look across the table, and for lack of anything else to do, picked up her cup of lukewarm tea.

"Is this about the case?"

"No. No, I just don't want to do it."

"Well, what do you want to do?"

"I have no idea. Something…" she looked down at the papers and the books before her. "Something that means something, something that's not so abstract."

"In my math class they used to say the xs and the ys do mean something. Apples and oranges."

She gave him a look. "Well they don't, and this is not your math class."

Davis watched her across the café table for a long moment. "Well…why don't you just finish it for now and then talk to your professor what's-his-name about it. You're probably just in a slump or something."

She let him go back to his own work and continued staring down at hers. "Maybe." She said suddenly, picking up her pencil again and shoving away her growing discontent. "Maybe so."

.

Lucy topped the last stair in Percy's building. He had told her she could leave the package at the door, but she hesitated before it, and then knocked. The boy had had four people at his apartment last night, surely one of them was around tonight.

There was some fumbling and the door opened a crack, then wider. The boy looked younger than Percy, but somehow older around the eyes. "Are you Percy Weasley's brother?"

"Uh…" He stared down at her. "Yes?" He sounded like he wasn't sure and he smelled (just slightly) of alcohol.

"Oh. I'm Lucy Bones, Percy is working on a murder case that I'm involved in. He asked me to drop this off at his apartment once I found it." She lifted the wrapped blanket in her hands. It had taken her all day to find it.

"Oh." He opened the door a little wider. "Sure. Were you here yesterday?"

"Yes." She stepped inside and discovered they were alone. "And you…which of his six brothers are you?"

He looked surprised. "I'm, I'm George. Percy…talked about us?"

"A little." She assented. "George. You look hungry." She could smell the distinct odor of burnt beans on burnt toast coming from the kitchen. She took in the young man and his sad eyes. Really, he wasn't much more than a boy, he couldn't have been Audrey's age. "You live around here?"

"No, I live at Diagon Alley." He paused, and then looked apologetic, as if he had said something he oughtn't to have.

"Oh? Do you know a place around here where I could grab some tea to wake me up before I drive home? It's quite late."

"Er…sure." He said. "Right down the street."

"Are you busy?" She asked, glancing at the books scattered over the table. "I'd love the company."

.

I heard this weird popping noise.

1. One pop. Disapparition. One person. They could have come from anywhere in the country.

2. The child, Audrey, had not yet been cleaned from birth. The person apparating in had likely been the one to help deliver. A female, then. A midwife? A servant?

3. They had put her in the third oven, low to the ground, then moved her to the napkin basket, on a shelf also low to the ground. A short person.

2. and 3. A house elf.

4. If a house elf, then an old house elf. Inexperienced apparition made a sound like a crack. House-elves were not adept enough at magic to master the skill much...only an old elf, very accustomed to apparition, would have made a popping noise.

An old female house-elf.

Percy suppressed the urge to rub his eyebrow. Nearly all purebloods had house-elves, and the one who had delivered Audrey was likely dead by now. It could be anyone, then.

Audrey watched him stare back and forth. Uncrossing her arms, she at last let out a sigh to remind him she was still there.

He glanced around quickly. "Hm?"

"What do you think? Are you getting anything from this?"

"Perhaps." He had his fingers forming a steeple as he studied the bakery.

"Care to share any of it with me?"

"I'm afraid that's impossible."

"Come on." She tucked her hands into her pockets. "I'm the kid who got abandoned here, I'm the daughter of whatever ax-murderer you think murdered my father...I'm apparently the reason, surely you can share something with me."

Percy stopped a moment and stared at her. He wondered, would it be legal for her to apply for auxiliary status to the Wizard World once this was all over? Lucy could never know, of course, but could Audrey be told?

Audrey stared back, meeting his gaze. He was looking at her peculiarly, as if a new idea had just occurred to him, and she were the key.

"Er, Percy?"

"Sorry." He started out of his reverie and reached for the notebook he'd left on the table. After doing a little scribbling, he closed it. "Copacetic. We're finished."

She followed him out, locked the door after him, secretly wondered how he'd got in without a key. "What now?"

"Now..." He glanced up at the dark sky. It was late night again. "Now I need a look at that baby blanket your mother said she'd dropped by my place."

"Think you can trace it?"

"I think I may well be able to." He responded calmly.

"To your place, then?"

"To my place, I suppose." Percy replied, only hoping that Charlie had gone to work today and George had gone home.