A/N: Thank you to those who reviewed last chapter, feedback is always appreciated.

This is later than I had hoped, but updates should come faster from now on, as my university year is coming to an end.

Shameless plug for a recent Teddy and Victoire story I published entitled 'Wedding and a Window' - it's a decent length one shot, bit of a romantic comedy thing, but I reckon it's good to practice in different genres to expand my writing. So check it out!

XIII: The Beautiful Game

Ginny

HARRY POTTER SIGHTED IN PARIS DURING MINISTRY VISIT

Paris. He was in Paris.

I continued to read.

Mere coincidence? Rumours that Harry Potter is secretly working with the Ministry gained further traction today as French tabloid magazine L'W released this image only hours ago.

The article was accompanied by a grainy image showing Harry and another man clad in black. But despite the poor quality of the image, there was no mistaking it was him.

It comes in the middle of the Ministry trade and relations delegation to Paris, where senior officials will meet with their European counterparts. The photo will inevitably raise questions…

I put the paper down, taking a bite out of my toast, and continued reading.

"I take it you've seen the Prophet then?" Hermione said as she joined me at the Gryffindor table.

"Yeah," I said, checking my watch. "Why are you so late to breakfast?"

Hermione flushed. "I was out with Ron last night, and I didn't get in until this morning."

I made a face. "Spare me."

Hermione gave me a small smirk, and pointed at the newspaper in front of me.

"This is the first picture of him in months. Any guesses as to what he's doing?"

I shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine."

"Well, I think I know," Hermione replied.

"What is it?"

Casting looks up and down the table, Hermione's voice dropped low.

"Do you have anything important on today?"

"Only Quidditch practice tonight. The game is this Saturday, remember?"

"Classes?"

"None that I can't catch up on."

"Me neither. I'll explain in the Room of Requirement. Let's go."

I nodded mutely, too shocked that Hermione had chosen to skip class of her own free will, to reply.

I watched with trepidation as Hermione paced up and down the corridor. The brunette wouldn't have brought me here unless she had something big.

The door appeared and she ushered me inside. The walls were covered in pictures and notes, linked with shimmering magical thread. I'd seen similar in the Auror Office. Every single magical thread lead back to a large picture of Harry.

"This is every single piece of information I could find on Harry's whereabouts over the last year."

"Hermione, this is incredible."

A proud look crossed her features. "You haven't seen anything yet."

Brandishing her wand, she began.

"This is what we know about Harry so far: two days after the Battle of Hogwarts, he disappears. No one knows why, and no one can explain it. We don't know how long for, or even if he'll return at all. What is the Ministry response? Well, Kingsley -" she pointed with her wand at a thread connecting the Minister to Harry and it lit up, "- immediately pledged to find Harry, and assigned the Aurors to the job. But here's the thing. When we visited Amy, I noticed that no one seemed to be working on finding him. So I did some digging. It turns out that the Aurors were quickly reassigned to diplomatic protection soon after Harry's disappearance."

"So they haven't been looking?" I asked.

"No. But that's not all. The Aurors are usually the amongst the first responders to any attack or crisis. But in the last six months, they've been mobilised less and less. Think about the number of attacks we've had lately. How many dark wizards do you think the Aurors have caught in that same timeframe? Ten? Twenty? Fifty?"

"How many?"

"Six. They've caught six."

"How do you know all this?"

"Like I said, I did some digging. But this is still scratching the surface. The Aurors have only caught six. But in the same time, they've found over two hundred people with connections to Voldemort. All of them dead," she said, her features grave.

"Someone else is out there. Someone else is killing Dark wizards."

"Who, but…you still don't -" I said.

"There's more," Hermione interjected. "You remember that Amy Rogers sen at package to me before she died?" "Yeah, and that she mentioned meeting an Unspeakable, who took over an investigation she was working on, saying that the Department of Mysteries was going to handle it," I recalled.

"That's right. I uncovered more information that corroborates with her theory."

Hermione drew another golden line between the headings 'AURORS' and 'BOMBING'.

"Here. The bombings on the Ministry of Magic. Apparently, the Aurors got a lead on the suspects, but the entire mission was taken out of their hands. They only arrived after the Death Eater hideout had been destroyed. Official report was that the Demolition Draught in the hideout had exploded. What actually happened was that the Aurors arrived to a smoking ruin. Again, someone else was responsible."

Hermione paused and fixed me with a somber expression.

"Ginny, I didn't want to believe it, just like you. But the evidence is mounting, and I can't ignore it. If it's true, if Amy Rogers was right, than at the very least, the Ministry is committing what Muggles call crimes against humanity. It's an overreach of Ministry power on a level Fudge could have only dreamed about. What makes us civilised is the right to a fair trial of our peers. Imagine living in a world where you're not allowed to defend yourself against accusation!"

"Where does Harry fit in?

"Ginny, I think he's that someone else. Not alone though. He's probably working with that Unspeakable from the Department of Mysteries. Some sort of clandestine special operation."

"You don't know that it's Harry though! Yeah, the evidence points to someone, but not necessarily him!"

Hermione held up a placating hand. "The attack on the orphanage. Can you think of anything that would enrage Harry more?"

I paused for a moment, mulling over her question.

"I can't, but that's still a flimsy argument, Hermione. You're implying that Dark wizards attacked an orphanage because they knew Harry was after them?"

"I know, but bear with me. Say that that was the case. You agree that Harry would have had motive to retaliate. Now imagine Harry had discovered their hideout and attacked them."

She paused, and another magical thread lit up between Harry and a bunch of notes.

"There are whispers in the MLE, talk in hushed tones about what happened that night. Kingsley gave the Aurors credit, but here's the thing: again, the Aurors showed up after the party was already over - their words, not mine. They found the occupants dead. The few that they could properly ID were all Death Eaters."

"One of the Aurors, a new recruit called Tom Delaney was injured that night. The official statement at St Mungos said that he'd sustained injuries in the firefight. But they were actually treating him for a modified memory."

"He seemed to be on the way to recovery, but two days ago, he died. The staff at St Mungos don't know why. I spoke to his supervising Healer yesterday, and she mentioned that he'd said something to her, two words, over and over again. Latching onto significant phrase or word is a common symptom with severe memory impairment from spell damage."

"What were the words?" I asked. In my heart, I already knew.

Hermione answered:

"Harry. Potter."

Harry

"How the fuck were you seen?" X exclaimed.

"I don't know. I didn't sense or spot any press," I said, exasperated.

"Fucking Gasteau. He's responsible for this. His people set the perimeter," Y said accusingly.

"We can't be certain it was him," X said.

"I know he wants us out of France," Y replied.

"I don't have a problem with that. We got Dolohov, why are we still here?" I asked. "Surely we could be doing better things in London?"

"No. We're going to find out how you were spotted. If there's a leak, I want it gone," X said.

Y and I nodded. It was the logical course of action.

"Good. We start with the tabloid that got the photos. I want an address within ten minutes," instructed X.

Kingsley looked up at the ornate ceiling, concealing a yawn as the French Finance Minister droned on.

"The Ministry also has significant foreign debts, not to mention the deficit caused by the rebuild. How can you expect to pay us back?"

"Minister Shacklebolt?"

"Hmm?" Kingsley was shaken from his inspection of the ceiling.

"How are you going to afford our loans?"

"We're repatriating the funds of war criminals. Turns out the only thing that purebloods like more than themselves is their money. We think that will help to cover our costs," Kingsley replied sharply.

"But that will be dependent on the trial process - which, I might add, has not started. The richest will have solid legal defences. You cannot take away their money if you cannot prove them guilty, Minister."

"They're guilty, believe me. And they'll pay dearly for it. If Gringotts is happy with our credit rating, than you should be too."

A small bell-like sound pealed through the meeting room, interrupting the discussion.

"Excellent. We'll return in an hour after lunch?" the finance official asked.

"I'm afraid I won't be joining you. I have another meeting on collective security I wish to attend."

The French diplomat nodded stiffly. As Kingsley departed, he was unsure whether the other man was disappointed or pleased to see him go.

Harry

We made our way to the heart of Rue Magique, which, like Diagon Alley in England, was a cornerstone of Wizarding France.

"All the media is clustered on this side street," said Y, as we passed the Daily Prophet's European Correspondence Office. All three of us were in disguise.

"L'W is a bit further down. They're hardly the shining standard of journalism, but they pay best for celebrity pictures."

We reached the entrance, and approached reception. A blonde girl with her hair pulled back into a bun stood to greet us.

"Bonjour."

"You American?" X asked.

"Yeah," the girl replied, surprised that he had heard through her accent. "Um, how can I help?"

"We're here to see the editor."

"Do you have an appointment?"

"Nope."

"I can't let you see her then, I'm sorry."

Y's wand was at her forehead in an instant.

"You'll take us to see her, and you'll do it quietly. You understand?"

She nodded timidly, and led us down a hallway. She stopped at the end and pointed at a door.

Y Stunned her silently, catching and setting her on the floor as she crumpled.

X didn't bother to knock on the door. He burst through, and placed a body-bind from the neck down on a slim woman wearing a purple blouse.

"English?" X asked.

"Oui, er, yes," the woman replied, stammering.

"Where did you get the picture of Harry Potter from?" X demanded.

"I…I don't tell my, ah, sources."

"That's brave. Ever been cruciated?" Y asked laconically.

The woman's face went white.

"That'll do," X said to Y, before turning his attention back to the terrified witch. "Legilimens!"

The woman gave a short gasp as X invaded her mind.

"She doesn't know his name. Man, dressed in a black cloak."

"That narrows it down," Y muttered dryly.

X gave a flick of his wand and the woman dropped to the floor. Tapping his wand to his own forehead, he took a silvery strand of memory and deposited it into a silver vial. He then turned his wand back to the woman.

"Obliviate."

"We're done here."

Kingsley

"…which brings us to a, ah, more delicate topic."

"Minister Shacklebolt?"

At the mention of his name, Kingsley's attention returned to the collective security meeting. Sat next to him was Arthur, and representatives from the French, German, Russian, and Italian Ministries.

"We know what you 'ave buried deep in your Ministry, Kingsley."

"What might that be? Harry Potter?" Kingsley smirked.

"Harry Potter is not a subject for discussion," Arthur added firmly.

"You are mistaken, Minister Shacklebolt. I do not mean ze Boy 'ho Lived," the French Minister said.

"Then I don't know what you're talking about."

"Ah, do not be coy, Minister. You know as well as I do zhat 'arry Potter is not ze only weapon you 'ave in ze Department of Mysteries."

Kingsley did not respond; his face a stoic mask.

"My DGIM is not stupid. Zhey 'ave 'eard ze whispers. Answer me zhis, Kingsley. 'ow do you stop Potter if 'e goes dark?"

"You will not confirm or deny it, but we know. We know what you will use against Potter should ze need arise. And we 'ave our concerns, too."

"One person should not 'ave zhis kind of power."

Kingsley snapped, suddenly angry.

"Little over a year ago, my country was ruled by a tyrant hellbent on personally killing me and every person I know. You don't have to tell me about individual fucking power!"

"Minister, we-" one of the Russians began.

"You fucks stood idly by, waiting until the smoke cleared to side with the victor. Now you chastise me because I'm doing everything I possibly can to prevent it from ever happening again? The fucking nerve."

"I don't expect you to like, hell, I sure don't. But it - and don't think that I'm admitting that 'it' even exists - is the price we have to pay for security."

'Gentlemen, for millenia, Britain has dictated the course of the Wizarding World. We are bloody, we are battered, but we are not beaten. It would pay for you all to remember that."

"This meeting's done."

Kingsley slammed his fist down on the table a second time, and made to leave.

"One more thing!" he paused, turning back to the table and pointing an angry finger at the French Interior Minister. "Put a leash on your fucking press! If your L'W shitrag prints one more picture of Harry Potter, I'll put your entire fucking Department in Azkaban."

And with that, Kingsley stalked out of the room, followed by Arthur.

"What do you call that?" Arthur exclaimed.

"Aggressive negotiations," Kingsley replied, his jaw clenched.

"I have a sudden yearning for London," Arthur said mildly.

"Same," Kingsley grunted.

Harry

"How were your meetings?" X asked Kingsley and Arthur as they joined us in the Department of Mysteries to debrief, an hour after arriving in London.

"I'm fairly sure we won't be on the Interior Minister's Christmas card list," Kingsley replied.

"Was there anyone in the French Ministry we didn't insult?" Arthur asked him.

"Come to think of it, I don't think so, no."

"Productive visit, then," Y remarked.

"How did you get on with the tabloid?" Arthur said.

"Didn't establish much of a lead to work on, unfortunately," X reported.

Kingsley nodded.

"Do you have anything that's time sensitive?"

"Nothing that can't wait if necessary."

"Good. I want all hands available for the memorial next week. Merlin knows something will happen."

His eyes turned to fix on me.

"Ready to return to Hogwarts?"

I nodded mutely.

It had been a year since I had been at the castle - the only real home I'd ever known. Come next week, I would be seeing people I hadn't seen in a year, people who had placed their lives on the line to protect me, and had lost loved ones just as I had.

Ginny

I flew high over the Quidditch Stadium in the last game I'd ever play at Hogwarts: a classic Gryffindor versus Slytherin final.

And I'd be damned if I didn't win.

I dived down and intercepted a Quaffle pass, continuing my dive as the crowd roared in appreciation. I levelled out and accelerated. A Bludger grazed past my elbow, but it didn't do enough damage to throw me.

I shot past their last Chaser into the scoring zone, feinted right, and flung the Quaffle through the central hoop.

AND GINNY WEASLEY MAKES THE TEN! GRYFFINDOR LEAD BY FORTY POINTS!

Gwenog Jones, Captain of the Holyhead Harpies was one of many famous Quidditch personalities and scouts watching today, and I knew they were looking for a new Chaser.

I was looking for employment.

An hour later, and I'd just put my 22nd Quaffle through the hoops.

GRYFFINDOR LEAD 340 TO 110! THEIR CHASERS ARE SIMPLY TOO GOOD! AND THERE'S NUMBER 23 FOR GINNY WEASLEY!

I was bleeding from two cuts, sweaty and exhausted from the effort I'd put in, and aching from four Bludger hits, but I was happy.

This was it.

This was the final I'd dreamed of.

Grinning, I flew back to the Gryffindor end, leaving the Slytherin Keeper swearing as he went to retrieve the Quaffle.

The Quaffle had just been launched when a cheer went up from the crowd. The Seekers were both in pursuit of the Snitch, but I didn't stop to look.

After a few passes by the Slytherin Chasers, I intercepted the Quaffle and blitzed past the crowd on my way to the Slytherin end.

GRYFFINDOR'S JOHNSON IS PULLING AHEAD, IT LOOKS LIKE SHE'LL MAKE IT…

I was mere feet away from the Slytherin keeper. One more goal, and the Snitch, and we'd make 500 points.

SHE'S CLOSING IN…!

I didn't know if the commentator was talking about me or my Seeker, but I hurled the Quaffle with all my might at the hoop.

The Slytherin Keeper stretched his arm out in desperation, but it brushed past his fingertips…

...and went through.

I punched the air in celebration just as Amelia Johnson closed her hand around the Snitch. The crowd were on their feet, screaming.

AND THAT'S IT! 500 POINTS TO GRYFFINDOR, THE PERFECT END TO A PERFECT SEASON!

It was perfect.

As we landed, we were smothered and hoisted onto the collective shoulders of Gryffindor House.

Luna's lion roared in the background, and I laughed with tears in my eyes. I could see Ron and Hermione cheering from the student section.

I shook Professor McGonagall's hand, and smiling, she handed me the Quidditch Cup. I held it high in the air to the deafening noise of the crowd.

It really was perfect.

I handed the Cup to Amelia, who took it to a second cheer, and raised up my hand to signal five.

Five hundred points.

And then Gwenog Jones was shaking my hand, and saying I'd be hearing from her shortly, and then the grin wouldn't leave my face.

And in that moment, it didn't matter that Harry wasn't there to congratulate me, to put his arms around me, and kiss me in the middle of a crowded Common Room.

It didn't matter.

It was perfect.

Harry

In my small room deep beneath London, I flicked off the Quidditch broadcast on my wireless, and smiled for the first time in months.

A/N: A bit of a filler in some respects, but brings Ginny and Hermione up to speed. Next chapter is my take on Memorial Day. Finally, thanks for reading, and please review!