AN: Thank you to everyone that reviewed, followed and added this story to their favourites. I'm always happy to know that people are enjoying what I write.
I'm still looking for someone to help me with little things in this story, such as misspelling, proper English expressions, some ideas and opinions about a chapter, etc. As my first language is not English, sometimes I have a hard time figure out how to write something that doesn't really have a translation (usually I think up and make some notes for this story in Portuguese). So if there is someone interested please PM me, this way I can write faster and frustrate myself less.
''The ethereal beauty of the female semblance conceals that they really are dangerous like a great white shark in the most peaceful and deep water.''
– Czon
CHAPTER 8
The next day, Florence made her way to Madam Bones' office promptly a few minutes before the appointed hour. Although it could not be seen in her blank mask (once more, she had glamoured her hair and eyes brown), her mood that morning was the best she had felt in years; she had comfortably slept all night long without waking even once and she had a purpose in her life now and was taking the necessary steps to carry out her plans – which until that moment were going smoothly.
At this time the British wizarding world was already aware of the tragic death of their Boy Hero – at the hands of his muggle family no less – and Florence was certain that Dumbledore and the Ministry would have a very long and stressful day trying to avoid the outrage of the masses via Owlers and other unsavoury magical methods of communication.
How fickle the sheep could be?
Until yesterday Harry Potter was a liar and foolish brat that everyone was eager to comment on and point their fingers at; today he would be considered a misunderstood and suffering boy who had died too young at the hands of the people who should have been taking care of him. Thus, their collective reaction would be to blame the authority figures of this country for this disastrous injustice, promptly forgetting their own awful attitude and utter disrespect to the Boy-Who-Lived just before they learned of this news.
There is something to be said about the Magical British's short term memory, Florence mused sardonically as she turned to the hall where Madam Bones' office was situated.
Upon seeing the incompetent witch from the previous day seated behind her desk too busy applying red lipstick to notice someone approaching, Florence sneered in her direction with disdain and her good mood dropped a little.
Merlin, she couldn't wait to start changing these appalling sheep's mentality.
Only in Great-Britain there were wizards and witches who honestly thought that being a pureblood was much more important than being intelligent and having a mind of their own. Really, it was no wonder that this country was the way it was; with people stuck in the past, physically and mentally wise, Great-Britain would never progress and would be a perpetual laughing stock to more advanced countries such as Japan and United States, who didn't wish to have anything to do with the British beyond the absolutely necessary. And worse, the British Ministry was mostly aware of this. Still, they preferred to keep their scheming ways, hiding the harsh truth from the masses and controlling them according to their whims, even if the majority of the outside world was mocking them relentlessly for their utterly outdated mind-set.
Florence stopped practically in front of the woman and was able to finally learn from a small plaque sitting on the left side of the desk that her name was Juniper Parkinson.
''Excuse me interrupt your beauty treatment, miss,'' she said, her voice dripping with sheer sarcasm and disdain, when it seemed like the woman would not be finished primping herself any time soon, ''but I have an appointed meeting with Madam Bones at ten.''
The woman jumped, startled, in her chair, the small mirror, which it was previously held in her left hand, falling and promptly smashing on the tiled floor; her eyes raised to look directly at Florence, widening with recognition, and her freshly painted red lips twisted in a grimace.
Florence waited for a few heartbeats, simply raising an eyebrow at her in question. The other witch glared at her in silence, clearly not happy in the least to meet her again.
The woman's intelligence, it seemed, was in worse condition than the previous day as it appeared that she had lost her speech faculties. Florence rolled her eyes, annoyed, not fighting at all against the urge to do so. Sure, she could wear a blank mask like the best of the Slytherins, though this insignificant woman was not even worth it and there was something in Juniper that simply rubbed Florence off the wrong way.
''Well, what are you waiting for?'', she demanded in a hiss, sharply breaking their silence stare down, her patience having vanished completely.
The woman's glare deepened for a second before she jumped from her seat and do what she should have done already without prompting, though she still kept silent. Florence wondered idly if that was because Juniper feared that she could say something that she would later regret or if she simply didn't know what to say about the offensive attitude against her person. Smirking, Florence had a feeling that was the latter.
After confirming with Madam Bones that she was free to start their meeting, silently the assistance made a motion for Florence to enter the office of the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and gave her a wide berth when Florence walked towards the door. With a last raised brow and a smirk at Juniper (without Amelia noticing), the powerful lady stepped into the room and closed the door in the woman's affronted face.
After exchanging the basic pleasantries, Amelia went directly to the reason of this meeting.
''Yesterday, you mentioned some memories that Harry sent to you. Is it possible to view them now?''
''Of course,'' Florence acquiesced promptly, before she took out a large crystal vial from her pocket and gently put it on the desk between the two of them. ''However, before starting, I'd like to ask if I could take care of the preparations to Harry's funeral; I've read in the 'The Prophet' that it will be tomorrow?''
''Yes, of course,'' Amelia granted promptly and reached for a piece of parchment. ''We have decided last night that Harry should be put to rest besides his parents but I have no knowledge of the details for the funeral. I will send a note to the person in charge of it at the moment that you will meet her after our meeting. This way you can take care of everything as it is your right as Harry's blood family.'' She scribbled something quick on the parchment and with a tap of her wand the paper folded itself and flew from the room, supposedly towards the office of the person in question. ''Her name is Beryl Cross and she is used to take care of situations like this one, so if you need some help, don't hesitate in asking for her advice.''
After Amelia explained where that woman's office was and Florence thanked her for her assistance, they turned to the purpose of their meeting.
''Harry left me several memories, although I only brought a few ones which I consider the most important to watch,'' Florence stated in a grave tone and looked the other witch steadily in the eye, fingering the vial that she had previously taken from her pocket. ''Please, be aware that all of them are quite shocking and, after you view them, I will not in any way be offended if you'll need an Unspeakable's expertise to prove that they are in fact genuine.''
Amelia only nodded, visibly conscious that the next minutes would not be pleasant at all.
Florence knew that most likely the older woman had already saw much more staggering things during her long years as the Head of her department and as a Auror before that, though she considered this situation was even more shocking as Harry Potter was a child that everyone believed had been raised in a loving home and for ten years the boy had been deemed the wonderful and beloved hero of the Wizarding World without any tainted comments from the media or the Ministry, with only the (deceitful) words of Albus Dumbledore to inform everyone how the Boy-Who-Lived grew up.
Despite the unspoken meaning behind Florence's words, Amelia reached out for the Pensieve on the corner of her desk with her both hands steady and unfaltering.
The next half hour passed in complete silence. Amelia had resolutely submerged in the silver memories alone after her companion had declined to join her answering that she had already seen more than enough; and Florence waited patiently for the other woman to finish viewing a life history of horrors not unlike her own.
When Amelia eventually came back, she was quite pale and her usual composed demeanour was nowhere to be found. The woman's eyes were flashing with fury and outrage and her hands were folded in fists and slightly shaking as if she was restraining herself to not reach for her wand and start cursing randomly at anything in sight.
Florence didn't speak and simply let Amelia gather her wits. Admittedly, she had expected this kind of reaction; in fact, she would be severely worried if the other witch had come out calm and unaffected as if she hadn't seen anything wrong in those memories.
After closing her eyes and breathing deeply a few times, the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement regarded her patiently waiting companion with a fierce gaze.
''Despite not having said anything on the matter, I suspect that you have some kind of plan to bring the culprit of this atrocities to justice, am I right?'', she asked with a raised eyebrow and an expression that was not kind or pleasant at all.
Both of them knew, without ever speak it out loud, that Amelia was not talking about the muggles, who were already in the Ministry's custody and more than likely would never return to their normal life at Privet Drive. No, their concern was a bigger fish, namely Albus Dumbledore. They were both aware that it was not that simple or easy to take down a wizard as powerful as him without incontestable evidence and heavy political power.
Florence smirked maliciously and silently at her for a moment. She was happy to know for certain that she had another ally in her quest against Dumbledore. Amelia had never been shy in her opinions about the acclaimed Headmaster of Hogwarts, always trying her best to curb the old man's more outlandish ideas, even though she did not succeed often – after all, it was no secret that Dumbledore had almost half of the Wizengamot following his every word without a single thought about the matter being discussed – and Florence had counted on that to help her further her plans.
She took several folded sheets of parchment from her pocket and offered them to her companion.
''Let's just say that my meeting with Gringotts yesterday morning was rather enlightening,'' she simply said, her unpleasant expression still in place.
Amelia took the offered documents in silent and perused them attentively. With each new page scanned, her eyebrows raised an inch more in her forehead, as her eyes widened in astonishment with the shocking information. After finishing all the pages, she returned them to Florence and merely stated with her voice commendably steady:
''I'm looking forward to see what you will accomplish in the next session of the Wizengamot, Lady Peverell.''
Florence chuckled lightly at that and the rest of the morning was spend with her explaining to Madam Bones what exactly she wished to accomplish in the next few days in the Wizengamot.
After her rather productive meeting with Amelia Bones, Florence left Harry's memories in the older witch's possession to properly attest their authentic via the Unspeakables. Amelia had assured her that she believed them to be genuine; it was simply a matter of avoiding future faultfinders and Dumbledore's silver tongue.
She took her directions to Beryl Cross' office and found that the old lady was quite accommodating and insightful in her help to prepare Harry Potter's funeral and never once Florence heard the typical unwanted and pretentious comments from her that usually one says when offering their condolences to the family of one who just died recently. Actually, apart from a sincere sounding 'I'm very sorry for your loss', the lady was all business and efficiency, which Florence appreciated greatly.
If she had been able to, Florence would have chosen a private and small service but she knew that was impossible. Everybody would want to be present at the ceremony – independently of their motives – to say the final goodbye to the Boy-Who-Lived. So, she tried to prepare the funeral in a way that she believed that Harry would have liked, as simple and unpretentious as she possible could get away with.
At Grimmauld Place, Sirius Black and Remus Lupin were alone grieving for their lost godson, both drowning in guilt in different ways.
Sirius had screamed and cursed and cried. Without giving it too much though, he had closed down the mansion from the inside as Head of the Black family, meaning that no one could currently enter the house without his permission or before he disabled the spell. He wished to be alone and the last person he wanted to see was Dumbledore or anyone from the Order of Phoenix, manly the ones that had stood guard to Harry all summer and never saw what was happening inside that house.
Remus had collapsed in the chair that he had previously occupied at breakfast and simply cried, feeling his guilt painfully eating up at him as he recalled all the opportunities he had had to talk and get to know Harry better and he had dismissed always with the thought that they would have time later to catch up and being part of his honorary godson's life.
He had heard his best friend locking the house and he couldn't find it in himself to care. He knew that the blame to what had happened was not only theirs to carry. With the utter shock of learning of Harry's brutal and sudden death, his blind belief towards Dumbledore had died a rather abrupt and painful death as well and he didn't even want to think of what he would do if the old man appeared before him at that moment.
As they drowned in their grief, they took some time to notice that an owl was trying to gain their attention by pecking rather insistently on the glass of the kitchen's window. When they finally did notice it, the two men looked at each other for a moment, as if only now noting that they were not alone in their mourning process.
Remus decided to get up from his seat and see what the letter was about, though he swore to himself that if by chance that message was from a certain headmaster with empty platitudes he'd burn it to ashes without even reading it.
After relieving the owl from its burden, the bird took off immediately without waiting for a response to the letter or a treat for its stomach.
Sirius approached his best friend cautiously and they both took out their wands and proceeded to cast every spell and counter-curse they knew of (including Dark ones), before opening the envelope which had only Sirius Black written in calligraphy that none of them knew of.
Confident that the letter was not cursed and with more curiosity than ever, they opened the envelope, only to receive another shock in their already devastating and turbulent morning.
''What the hell?''