Chapter Seven
One Invitation, and One Mysterious Visitor
Harry got back to the auror squad room and asked the duty auror to send a message up to his office advising his assistant that he would be there soon. Then he nodded to Ms. Dobbs and led the way back to the hold room.
"Well?" he asked.
"She's telling the truth, nothing to indicate she had anything at all to do with Ivy's attack on you, or knowledge of it, unless I've lost all my empathic abilities. I don't think she could lie to you and make it convincing."
"What do you mean?" asked Harry.
"When you asked her those questions so politely, she started warming up. When you thanked her for the help and walked her down the corridor, she started to purr."
"You mean she was reacting positively to the polite treatment?" Harry asked, puzzled. He recalled being aware of the pressure of Daphne's fingertips on his arm.
"NO," laughed Dobbs. "I mean inside her head, she was, literally, purring. Like a cat? I wasn't close enough to be able to tell if she was conscious of it, or if it was coming from someplace really deep. Did you meet anyone when you turned the corner?"
"Yes, Hermione Weasley, she was on her way someplace. I tried to introduce them but they remembered each other from Hogwarts. Made me feel like a bit of a doofus, really. Why?"
"Because Miss Greengrass stopped purring, just when I lost sight of you two. She really wanted to growl and spit, I could feel her wanting to do it, and I could feel her holding it in. Took a lot of effort on her part."
Harry stood there, staring at Dobbs. Finally, she broke the silence.
"Will there be anything else, Mr. Potter?"
"Uh, no," Harry said with a shake of his head. "A short note for the Fletcher file, please. Send the whole file up with it, I still need to draft my memo on the incident. That confundus is still unexplained, which I don't like, but we don't have a motive. I don't believe the ten galleon story, either. Attacking me ought to be worth a hundred, minimum. Ten galleons hurts my pride."
Finally getting to his office to start his work day, Harry greeted his assistant and the rest of the outer bullpen. After assuring himself there were no immediate demands to attend to, he asked his assistant for some tea, and went inside. He threw the satchel on the chair beside his desk and sat down. He didn't have any meetings until later, said his calendar, so he pulled the Agreement file out of the satchel and opened it up.
"Tea's here, sir," called his assistant from the doorway. "Would you like it on the desk?"
"Yes, please. If possible, I'd appreciate twenty minutes with no interruptions while I do some reading. Unless it is Hermione Weasley. Or the Minister."
"As you wish, sir."
Harry took a deep breath. He knew he needed some wise counsel. Trouble was, he mainly relied on Ron Weasley and Neville Longbottom for that commodity, and they weren't available.
Harry turned his attention to the Agreement once again, hoping that sleeping on yesterday's experiences, and reading-in, would prepare him to spot any pitfalls in the Agreement. He saw nothing to change his earlier assessment. Essentially, he and Daphne were in some kind of almost-engagement, according to an Agreement, that wasn't quite a contract, and that could be broken by either party, although at some cost. Alternatively, at any point, they could become formally engaged, which would start a 365-day countdown. They must then marry before the engagement year expired, and get the bond money back, minus Gringott's management fee.
Harry knew he needed to talk to a lawyer, but he was still waiting for Hermione to get him some specialists' names. Then there was the money.
Harry's assistant appeared in the doorway. "May I…" he asked. Adding, "Owl." by way of explanation.
"Sure," said Harry. "I need diversion."
His assistant brought an envelope and placed it on Harry's desk. Harry just had time to take note of the cool gray envelope, with Greengrass Manor printed in script in the upper left hand corner, and a "Mr. Harry Potter-Head Auror-Ministry of Magic, London" in calligraphy in the center, when the envelope unfolded itself.
"Dear Mr. Potter," said a female voice. "Mr. Greengrass and I wish to request the honor of your presence tomorrow at Greengrass Manor, for lunch, 12-4 pm, followed by some outdoor diversions, weather permitting. Dress casual. RSVP-Regrets only
Then in a personal note:
"SO looking forward to seeing you, Harry,
Kendra Greengrass"
Harry thought the Greengrass family was true to its word, they had indeed gotten in touch, and soon.
Harry picked up his wand and cast his patronus.
"I am very pleased to accept your gracious invitation to lunch on Saturday. Owl follows."
Despatching the patronus, Harry went back into his stationery drawer. He took his time over his selection. He fully expected the luncheon to end with Fabio Greengrass taking him aside for a frank talk, ending with a pitch to Harry to go along with an abrogation of the agreement, by mutual consent, minimizing the fees due the goblins and freeing the Greengrass family to seek another suitable partner for Daphne. Beyond that, he expected to welcome Fabio's suggestion. Nevertheless, his contact with the Greengrass family would have consequences. The wizarding community was small, inbred and gossipy. It was very likely Harry's interaction with Daphne in the Ministry atrium was already on the circuit, embellished, and devoid of context. Therefore, Harry had to be aware of propriety at every step.
Harry selected an ivory card with an embossed monogram. Opening it, he dipped a quill in ink, and in his best handwriting wrote,
"Mr. and Mrs. Greengrass,
Thank you for your gracious invitation, which I hereby accept. I am looking forward to meeting you both tomorrow. Until then, I remain,
Respectfully,
Harry Potter"
Harry chose a matching envelope from the drawer, addressed it to Mr. and Mrs. Fabio Greengrass, Greengrass Manor, and took it to his assistant.
"Can we get an owl to deliver this?"
"Yes, sir, right away," his assistant replied. "You asked Auror Dobbs to bring this file up, she said," said the assistant, handing Harry a folder.
"Thanks," Harry said, accepting the file.
"And Ms. Hermione Weasley sent this."
Harry accepted an envelope with "As requested" instead of an address, and "H.G.W." in the upper left corner.
"I know what this is," said Harry. "I guess I'll have to add another paper airplane thank-you memo to her vast collection."
Harry took the file and envelope to his desk and sat down.
"File first," he thought. Harry wanted to read everything the aurors had recorded concerning the incident in the park. Nothing about the series of events made any sense to him. The lowest-ranking criminal in the London magical criminal ranks attacked the Head Auror, due to an underworld contract, put out by party or parties unknown, while working as a dog-walker for a classmate who just happened to be the secret fiancee of the Head Auror.
"She's NOT my fiancee!" Harry thought.
Then the secret fiancee turned up at Gringott's, scheduled for a follow-on meeting to Ragnak's, where Harry learned of their alleged close personal relationship. Then she turned up again at the atrium, just as Harry and the dog were passing through on the way to the aurors' office. Then there was Dobbs' odd comment. Harry looked through Dobbs' statement but there was no sign of her observation that Daphne had started to purr.
Dobbs had a sense of discretion. That was good to know.
Harry wrote up a short description of the incident in the park, heavily self-editing to keep the subjective material and his speculations out of the official record. Was there a thread in there, that tied everything together? Was there a thread tying Ivy Fletcher to his fiancee?
Whatever there was, or might be, Harry decided, he wouldn't find it today. He'd have to invite Ron and Hermione over and tell them the whole thing, and see what they came up with together. That was the path to a logical solution. Harry had no idea why that was, because it defied logic, but when the three of them worked on a problem, a resolution always appeared.
"Don't chew it over too much," Harry reminded himself, as he opened Hermione's envelope. Inside was a folded piece of note-size parchment, with H.G.W. printed at the top in an intricate script. Harry reflected on his own stationery and decided he was falling behind Hermione.
"Here are some wizard lawyers who practice wizarding family law," Hermione's note said. "I did a little research and found out the field supports a substantial number of them. Who knew? Marriage agreements, of which there are various types, usually mean work for at least two lawyers, one for each family. These are well-regarded. "
Then three names.
Hermione went on: "Thought you might find this clipping of interest."
The note was signed, with a single H.
The clipping was from the Daily Prophet, but Harry didn't see a date. There was a photo, of Daphne in academic cap and gown, clutching what could have been a diploma, with her parents to her left and another young woman on her right. The caption read, "Mr. and Mrs. Fabio Greengrass and Ms. Astoria Greengrass recently attended graduation ceremonies of their daughter, and sister, Daphne, held at a muggle university in London, where Ms. Greengrass was awarded muggle degrees in medicine and philosophy."
The rest of the day was a welcome distraction. Aurors brought in suspects, or confirmed miscreants, reports flowed up to the Head Auror, investigations were updated, there was a retirement reception for a senior auror who was moving to an island in the Caribbean to take up a position at a regional magical law enforcement academy. In fact, Harry didn't think about the case file, or Hermione's much-too-interesting note and clipping, until he got back from the reception.
As he cleared his desk in preparation for leaving for the day, another distraction arrived via his assistant, who looked in and asked, "Do you have time to see a Mr. Zabini, or should I schedule him for some time next week?"
Harry looked up.
"Zabini? Blaise Zabini?"
"Yes," said his assistant. "He said that he knows you and needs a few minutes for some unspecified business."
"No point putting it off, send him in, and go ahead and start your weekend. I'll close up. See you on Monday."
"Thank you, sir, here is Mr. Zabini," the assistant said, opening the door.
"Head Auror," said Blaise, flashing a dazzling smile. "Delighted."
"Blaise," said Harry, extending his hand. "It has been awhile. To what do I owe the honor? Oh, before we start, water, tea, something stronger?"
"I wouldn't object to a glass of water," said Blaise. "I have just the tiniest bit of business to touch on. Something stronger will have to wait for another opportunity."
"What have you been doing since Hogwarts?" asked Harry as he fetched the water. "Not long after the battle, you just disappeared. Not the only one, of course, and I'm not getting judgmental, no offense meant."
"None taken. By fifth year I was starting to think I might want to try life in the muggle world. The horizons are so much wider, of course. I ended up doing just that. Still, I recognized the value of knowing as much magic as I could absorb, so, sixth and seventh year, I really tried, academically. Seventh year, the quality of instruction fell off in some classes."
Harry burst out laughing. Once started, he couldn't stop. All of what should have been his seventh year flashed through his mind at once. Nagini's attack, getting caught by Snatchers, seeing Peter Pettigrew killed by the artificial hand Voldemort had given him, breaking into, and out of, Gringott's, living rough through a British winter, and the terror of hunting, finding and destroying horcruxes, not to mention that final, bloody battle. Yes, the quality of instruction had fallen off, but it had been replaced, with some serious vocational training.
"Blaise, that is the best description of seventh year I have ever heard, from anyone. You've made my day. So, what did you do afterwards?"
"After the fight started, no one stayed to watch us in the dungeons, so I came back upstairs. I had my wand, but of course everyone inside the castle assumed I was with the other side, so I put it away and made my way to Madam Pomfrey and offered my services. I started transporting casualties to her, she'd treat them, and I'd go out and look for more, get them to her, do it again. Had to move a couple of dead out of her aid station. People we'd been in class with. What a shock for a kid. I wasn't quite eighteen yet."
Blaise looked at the wall above Harry's head, but his eyes said he was looking through the wall at events long past.
"I was one of the ones who stuck around, after you killed Voldemort, and helped with the cleanup. We had the major rubble gone in a few days and started on the structure. It went pretty fast. Magic, of course. I could use my wand again, which was nice. The castle did some of the repairs itself. The typical witch or wizard doesn't see that very often, so I appreciated the opportunity. There were a few off the wall personal comments, anti-Slytherin, you know, but I could see the commenters were just speaking from habit, same as some of the reflexive detritus I'd been hearing for years in the Slytherin common room.
"Slughorn was there, pitching in, and he was throwing out orders and keeping all the Slytherins pulling together and focusing on mutual support. Watching that old man operate changed my life. We kept working and it wasn't long and the other houses were back in their customary role, trying to catch up to Slytherin. Like old times, without the bitterness. Amazing what having a common goal does for people. I think I even won McGonagall over, eventually, but don't tell her I said that unless she says it first."
"After a few weeks, things were pretty well in hand and I executed the plan I'd had since sometime during sixth year. I was of age, in good health, no problems in my past, drugs, arrests, that sort of thing, and I joined the army."
"The army?" asked Harry, the surprise in his voice obvious. "You mean the British Army? The Muggle British Army? Blaise…"
He was literally at a loss for words. No wizard joined the muggle army. Not that it was unheard of. There were, in fact, several cases during both World Wars, but they were very controversial. The general belief among wizards was that wizards should not take part in muggle public affairs, in accordance with the International Convention. Discovery of wizards among soldiers, it was believed, would cause grave danger to wizardry worldwide. Therefore, while they would often duel one another over the most trivial matters, wizards were, for the most part, strictly neutral pacifists when it came to fights in the muggle world.
"I know, how crazy is that? But I had to get away from my mum, so I signed up, put my wand in a safe place, and became Private Blaise Zabini. I marched, I fired all kinds of muggle weapons, I did physical training until I dropped, slept on the ground with nothing between me and the stars but my sleeping bag, talked on these little muggle wireless sets, and basically had a fine time soldiering. I took it seriously, tried really hard in all the classes. Trying to follow Slughorn's example.
"I guess the study habits from those last couple of years at Hogwarts paid off. Eventually, I was promoted, then promoted again, then I was identified as officer material, finished at the top of that class, was commissioned, and so on. Then I got hurt. I'm fine, now, but I can't meet the physical standards for the infantry anymore. Even went to St. Mungo's when I was on convalescent leave to give them a go, but nothing to be done. Going to have a tricky leg on one side forever."
"What are you doing now?" Harry asked. "Maybe you can pass the physical exam for an auror?"
"Oh, thanks, but no, I'm not here for that," Blaise said with a chuckle. "The army was very generous, let me convert from infantry to intelligence and continue as a reserve officer. That's my part-time job. In my full-time job, I'm a consultant."
Harry was starting to get the idea. He kept his eyes on Blaise, and tried not to blink when he asked,
"I see. Is the Minister familiar with your consulting firm, by any chance?"
Blaise gave the slightest of nods, while he held Harry's gaze.
"And the business you wanted to discuss, do I need to use this on the room?" Harry asked, indicating his wand.
"If you don't mind, it would be for the best."
Harry stood up from his chair. He flicked the wand toward the door, and a series of clicks sounded. He continued, flicking the wand at all four walls, the floor, and ceiling. He finished, standing in the center of the room, moving his arm, fully extended, in a series of arcs, up, down, and sideways, while Blaise watched.
"Not a word. I am seriously impressed," said Blaise. "Okay, business. As Head Auror I expect you must have been briefed on some of this, but bear with me. Muggles and wizards coexist, blissfully ignorant of one another, because wizards and muggles have experienced difficulties in the past. Nevertheless, some intersections of muggle and wizard societies are inevitable, and liaison channels exist to facilitate that. The squib community plays a role in this because a wide range of magical consciousness appears in squibs, even though magical abilities do not manifest, making them ideally suited for some in-between-ish jobs. Your neighbor Mrs. Figg, for one, could see the dementors who chased you and your cousin."
Harry sat up with a start. "How did you…"
"Harry," Blaise said, with a dismissive wave, "you're the subject of study in some quarters. Not A subject, THE subject. And I can't say any more, so don't start with 20 questions.
"The point is, the liaison desks, in the security services, Special Branch, the odd endowed chair or two at certain universities, are sensing a little impending action. This is very unusual. The standard is, muggle OR wizarding services hear something, go to work, when they have something solid, they brief it up the chain, instructions are given, and orders flow down. Only if there is cause for concern on the other side are the liaison offices involved. If you took all the liaison positions in all the muggle and wizard services in Britain and added them up you'd be well short of one hundred. The offices are small by design, mortar between bricks, the equal sign in an equation. Nothing happens on the equal sign. It's there to keep the balance. The action is to the right and left, with the pluses and minuses and exponents, while the equal sign makes sure both sides move along as harmoniously as possible.
"That's the reason for this call. No one knows what is going on, but whatever it is, it has a foot in both worlds. That makes it potentially disruptive, highly disruptive. That is what has the policy level in the muggle and wizarding governing institutions concerned. Voldemort affected the wizards primarily, although if you hadn't stopped him he'd have executed some of his larger ideas. This is different.
"Keep your eyes open, Harry. The aurors are out on the street, looking and listening. They've got their sources. You see the reports. Just keep this in mind when you're reading. You'll recognize it if you see it. I can't tell you more, because I don't know any more.
"Now, I'll get out of here. I'll get in touch next week sometime. Enjoy your date."
"I don't have a date tonight," Harry said as he rose and walked Blaise toward the door.
Blaise turned around at the door, and stuck out his hand, which Harry took. "I meant tomorrow, at your fiancee's," said Blaise, as he exited.
Harry stood there, watching the door close. He hadn't said anything to Blaise about tomorrow.