Author's Note: K, so here it is. Installment #5. As you can tell, these chapters are getting progressively longer as time goes on. Oh well. That's good, right?
Quick shout-out to two people. One, Rehema. Thanks for catching the mistakes I missed - after I looked back, I was like, "Wait, what, really?" Thanks and all xD My computer dictionary now has the correct entries for Weasley and Hemione~
Second, JennyMax. You. Are. Flipping. Awesome. Nerdding it up with Rob Patterson, Tom Felton, and shtuff. Remind me later to make you Grant Morrison addict |:
And thanks for the reviews, all you awesome sauce people who've left them behind so far~
Knock knock.
Ron stood before the large maple door, polished feet fresh from Ministry work on a well-aged welcome mat. In the crook of his left arm was a warm pot of spaghetti, fresh and ready to eat. Behind him were high stone walls covered in rolling ivy, ankle-high grass meeting the green tendrils. Those were some of the things Ron loved about Harry's house in Godric's hollow – the rolling emeralds that encased the house, ever-present, very strong during the summer season. The sound of birds twittering was soft, a falcon's cry echoing a ways off.
His beloved stood next to him, holding son and daughter in hand. Hermione had received the call from Harry, where Harry detailed to her his situation – about how the Ministry had come by and dropped off the young Malfoy child, looking for a safe place to keep him temporarily, until they could figure out exactly what to do with the young boy. Harry told Hermione about Ginny's concerns on handling the situation, and invited both Hermione and Ron over to help take some pressure off the family.
Ron knew a little about the Malfoy child beforehand, as well as about the missing wizards. He had been at work doing end-of-the-week paperwork on Thursday when the first wave of news came in – first, the untimely disappearance of Draco Malfoy and several other wizards, reported by wives, children, relatives, and even once, a house elf. Ron didn't pay too much particular attention to the missing of Draco Malfoy. The news wasn't concerning his department, and there were a great many things for him to do, such as chasing a rather nasty rogue wizard across Finland.
Yet in the back of his head, Ron had his suspicions. He well doubted that Malfoy went missing – he felt certain that the ex-Death Eater had probably left of his very own will. Nine wizards were reported missing over the course of a single night, and to him, it sounded like an organized leave. He felt convinced there was a connection behind it all.
An Astoria Malfoy had visited the Ministry late Thursday night. She had come in with her son, the young Scorpius Malfoy. The boy was left in the lobby as Mrs. Malfoy went to talk to a Ministry officer, after Scorpius promised to be good and not cause a stir. Mrs. Malfoy never came back to pick her son up, and after three hours, someone noticed that a young wizard was catching paper airplane messages and subduing them, drowning them in the fountain until they were wet enough to be plastered on the sleeping wizard beside him. Unfortunately, that sleeping wizard happened to be Mrs. Mignon; the easily-agitated, often stressed, and also known as Mrs. Menstruation-Every-Monday, Mrs. Mignon. Granted to say, her nickname changed to cover every day of the week.
Long story short, new regulations ensured any wizard under the age of 16 was as heavily guarded as a Gringotts vault, and Scorpius was granted six rather unexcited guardians for the rest of the day. The story of Mrs. Mignon traveled to the very corners of the ministry, causing hoots, laughs, frowns, and mixed emotions. "Karma" someone remarked, "You swat a pixie, and that woman's on you like you're some neo-Death Eater come to kill orphans."
On a good note, all paperwork was rescued and restored to their original receiving addresses.
What happened to the boy afterward, Ron had never heard, as he packed up and left for the day. He said goodbye to another Auror, who was finishing paperwork up as well. On the way out, Ron passed Harry's empty office, knowing well that he had gone off for a five day's absolute vacation (which meant absolutely no news from the office to or from the lad that wasn't an utter emergency), as well as several other unoccupied rooms, their owners either out on duty, returning home, or not yet arriving for the day. It was midnight by the time Ron got home on the floo powder network.
The next day, the story of poor Mrs. Mignon still traveling about, Ron worked at the Ministry again, waiting with hopeful eyes on the clock. Tomorrow would be the start of Ron's own five day vacation. Unbeknownst to him, a young Scorpius Malfoy had just recently smashed an hourglass out of frustration a few departments down, and was causing a great havoc once more after spending over twenty hours alone and away from home among strangers who, quite frankly, had never handled an unhappy nine year old child before. Scorpius' devious streak did not help the situation in any way.
More news ebbed about the missing wizards, the count rising from nine to fifteen (including Scorpius' own mother). To make matters worse, a pureblood from the Selwyn family, one of the original nine missing, turned up dead. Something was severely amiss.
And the day after that, on a Saturday, Ron was home with his beloved when the phone call came. Hermione was the one to pick up, the sound of loud chatter in the background.
"Hello?" she answered, stirring a large pot of spaghetti with flicks of her wand.
"Hey, Hermione, it's Harry. Got a moment?"
The answer was, of course, yes.
Afterward, Hermione informed Ron about how the Potters had invited them over for dinner, and that they were bringing their spaghetti meal and that Harry would, in turn, grill some hotdogs. While, just to say, spaghetti and hotdogs would be a rather odd meal, the circumstances were odd to begin with.
She told Ron how Potter had gotten protection work on his five day break, which Ron found surprising and a bit unfair. When Ron asked who, Hermione had raised her eyebrow a bit, speaking with disbelief, unsure if the words she said were correct, "Malfoy's son, apparently. Both his parents have gone missing, along with the twenty one others. The Ministry thinks that there's a connection between them, since... well... the majority of them were purebloods, and a good few were involved in the War."
Apparently, as Ron noticed, the count of the missing was rising. He spoke, "Malfoy's son? He was in the Ministry the other day when his mum went missing. Caused that one ruckus 'cause no one was watching him with Mignon," Hermione's expression changed – she used to work in the same department as Mignon a few years back (Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures), and while she had heard the gist of the story, she never did hear the name of the child in question, "I knew there was trouble with keeping the boy somewhere, although I didn't think they'd go as far as stick him in a poor git's home."
"He caused real trouble, you know," Hermione said, "Statements for my department were coming in late, and the papers were still a bit soggy when we finally received them. Not to mention, Mrs. Mignon was more distraught than when a Hippogriff tried to slash her arms off, bless her soul." She worked at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and had been for the past few years.
"Well," Ron shrugged, "It's a good thing Harry doesn't do a lot of paper work at home, isn't it?"
"Merlin, I hope he doesn't."
So, within the half hour, Ron, still fresh from the ministry, his shoes still clean and nice, stood on the aged welcome mat, the world around him a lovely rolling emerald. Ron knocked on the door thrice, waiting at first with a good bit of patience. After three minutes, though, he knocked again. Five raps this time. Another minute, a louder rap.
A loud bang resounded from behind the doors, sounding like furniture toppling. There was a shout, followed by a high scream – it sounded like Lily, one of the Potter's children. Someone yelled a rather foul word, and metal clanked on a wood floor.
Ron turned to Hermione, startled, the pot of spaghetti still in his arms. Hermione drew her wand, pushing her husband aside, and spoke a rather quick and whispered "Alohamora" to the doorknob. She shoved the door open hastily, with Ron following closely in pursuit.
The scene that awaited them was a mess. An utter, distraught, horrific mess.
End Note: Thanks once more for reading! Aaahh, can't wait till I finally get to write the epic parts. Anyways, there you have it.
Next chapter, we'll learn that shoving more people into a single house doesn't solve problems... at all.