1/14/15
I am still working on these stories, its just a matter of motivation to write, and knowing where I want to go with the story. For those still following, thank you for your patience.
CH 5: Son of Man
Harry James Potter.
It was a name that had defined him his entire life, and one he hadn't answered to in over a decade. It was a name that had echoed in his head and had sat on the tip of his tongue when his new "partner" had said his alias and introduced herself. Whoever she was, she was a witch.
He didn't believe in coincidences, and having a witch assigned as his partner without any acknowledgement of any magical presence left him wary of the options he had left open. None of his charms had alerted him to anything suspicious about her. He was going to operate under the assumption that she was in disguise, like him. She felt familiar, but he didn't recognize her. It wasn't Polyjuice, so that left charms, and he conceded that there could be charms he didn't know and hadn't accounted for. Being self-taught from books could only carry him so far, despite what his pseudo-sister might have believed in the early part of their acquaintance.
If "Scully" was someone who knew who he really was, then he needed to be careful. He also needed to find out who she was, in case she was someone dangerous to him or in general. There were still Death Eaters at large that would love to have his head on their wall, not something that he had on his bucket list. If she was a friend, if she was...no. He cut off that thought. It wasn't her. If she was here, then she was an Auror like him, not flying Chaser for the Harpies like she should be. Then again if she was here, then he was in trouble. It wasn't often he had gotten on her bad side, but the times he had, well, she was her mother's daughter.
It was unlikely that anything was wrong; otherwise he would have been dragged home en masse, with little chance of dissuading them not to. He had to wonder though. Why now? The pieces of the puzzle to his identity were trusted above contestation. Why did he suddenly have company now?
He knew that he wouldn't have been called home to fight another war. The response from his friends and family against those who tried it would make the Battle of Hogwarts look like a water balloon fight. It wasn't something they would allow to be done to him again, Chosen One or not. Not that he felt particularly Chosen these days. His existence was basically ignored by all except for a few higher-ups; it was a novel experience for him to have had after his childhood.
He needed to come with some insider information on the good doctor, and he didn't think suddenly sending owl post would be a good start, how would he start that post, "Hey Ron, long time, no see. Say, your sister wouldn't happen to have come across the world to bat-bogey my ass back home, would she? Ta, Harry" or "Hey King, please tell me you didn't send my ex-girlfriend after me. If you did, I'll be coming home in a body bag. See you on the other side, Harry." Yeah, that would go over well. He'd get a Howler back from Hermione that could be heard on the western seaboard.
He'd work on the name first, see what he could dig up. Maybe pass it over to the Gunmen to see what they could scrounge up. He should probably avoid introducing them if it was that particular red-headed witch, for the sake of his sanity and his health. He needed a horde of Aurors descending on the guys to Obliviate them like he needed a hole in the head. He'd talk to them in the morning; he wanted to try to get some sleep, though he'd probably end up taking a nap on the plane, provided he got his own row.
Morning dawned, and Ginny was no closer to an answer than she had been the night before. It's not like she liked keeping secrets, especially not from him. She would just have to take it one day at a time. For now, she had to get ready to leave for the airport. In between getting dressed and drinking her coffee, she tucked the charmed journal in her carry-on, along with the case files that she'd need when they got there. As an afterthought, she grabbed a beaded clutch that Hermione had given her for a birthday a few years back, with an Undetectable Extending Charm, and put it in her bag as well. She might need to tuck something away on the sly.
Small talk was made in the car after her partner picked her up, and he handed her a plane ticket before they went through security. The wait was short, and the plane was relatively empty. They were seated separately, but close together. A layover at O'Hare, and the set-up was the same. She paged through the case files while he rested his eyes. Some slight turbulence jolted her, her mother's paranoia putting her on edge, which sparked a sardonic comment from her partner.
The initial entry into town with the car going haywire and her partner marking the spot with spray paint was starting to raise her hackles about this place. It was nowhere near any known magical schools for the area, so that discounted that theory. The exhumation and state of the body being investigated made her feel that she was on the verge of a precipice with no idea how close to the edge she was. The autopsy and results of testing left her disconcerted, despite "Mulder's" conveying doubts. Having grown up in the magical world meant that she was well-acquainted with extraordinary creatures that for most of the world lay in myth and legend, but at least they had terrestrial origins that could be traced. The possibility of what they were investigated not having roots in the planet on which she lived wasn't something she was going to entertain at this point, not without more evidence. Just because she knew where to find fantastic beasts didn't mean that it was the automatic solution for this case.
This just added to the war within. Trying to figure out how to approach Harry that didn't end in a shouting match or wizard's duel now that she wanted to re-introduce herself frustrated her. She hid her preoccupation during the exhumation of the body, the subsequent autopsy, and the initial interview at the psychiatric hospital the next day, but was jolted by the revelation of identical marks on the young woman that had been documented in the case file.
Things were getting stranger and stranger, even for a Hogwarts graduate. The revelations of the case that kept piling up only made her have to face the fact that she would have to reveal herself, and soon. Trust was important, it was everything. If he didn't trust her, then there would be no way that she could stay. She knew that a quick visit to talk to him and take him home would be impossible, that wasn't who he was. He had found a cause, one that he had chosen, and she could see that he was invested. There would be no prying him loose before he was finished, so her choices were to leave him behind or stay and help. And she wasn't one to walk away from a fight.
And one seems to be brewing between her and her new partner, much as she tries to prevent it. Her history fuels a need to avoid taking that leap of faith into the fantastic. Despite growing up in a world of magic, her experience in the Muggle world has grounded her, making her skeptical of anything that couldn't be attributed to science or magic as she knows it. It may be a binary system, but it is the only she had to go by, and not one she would easily give up. She could prove what is presented to her, whether the wave of a wand or a finished potion, or the splitting of the atom or the synthesis of a drug.
Her equilibrium had yet to be restored, and as they went trampling through the forest like a couple of hippogriffs, her sense of certainty of where this was all heading was vanishing into the fog that surrounded her. Her hackles were raised, and her wand kept hovering over her hidden and her holstered gun. Her confrontation with the detective hadn't helped, neither had the malfunctioning car. The last time she had lost time hadn't ended well, and so she was inclined to not perceive it as benevolent. As she updated her report, and the power went out, curtailing her efforts, she hoped that at least the hot water was still working. Shedding her bathrobe by candlelight only, she was confronted with two familiar marks on the small of her back.
'Fuck, not again.'
Despite the ability to use magic to do the dishes, especially on nights after a late day of work, Ron Weasely occasionally did them by hand. It was a way to clear his mind of distractions, and keep his hands busy. It also meant he could hand over the overwhelming task of putting their children to bed to his wife, much her consternation.
This simple chore gave him time to mull over his sister's crusade to find his wayward best friend. Hermione and he had left it alone in the beginning, both knowing that some time to himself could be just what Harry needed. But as the years went by, they had started talking about find the lost member of their triumvirate. Both had started making inquiries through their various avenues of influence, and thus far had made little progress. So he was happy when Ginny had come to them, and he knew that come Azkaban or high water, she would track him down.
Merely having his friend's alias wasn't enough, and for the most part all they could establish was that he wasn't within any wizarding ministry records globally. He had even reached out to Luna, in the hopes that one of her many odd friends might be able to make inquiries that might reach them, or that they could direct to Ginny. As it stood, he missed his mate, and he wanted him to come home. Despite some of their more tumultuous conflicts, they still managed to weather the storms together. He was thankful that the lives of his family and friends hadn't been overwhelmed with the chaotic trouble that had plagued the lot of him and his friends growing up, with most of it centering on Harry. He was a little suspicious that it was possible that trouble had followed the Boy Who Lived at his departure.
Hermione Granger-Weasley swept back into the kitchen slightly frazzled, but with an expectant look on her face. "They want you to go kiss them goodnight."
By this point, Ron had learned that little could be gained from arguing with his wife, not that he would in this instance. She moved to take over the dishes, beginning the process of drying off the plates and putting them away, as her husband went to finish tucking in their children.
She had seen the furrow of his brow, and knew that he was thinking about Harry and Ginny. The wispy form of Ginny's Patronus had silently galloped into the kitchen earlier, with only the message that she had found Harry. Glad as she was, it irked her to be left with so little information otherwise. Had Ginny made contact with him? Where was he, and where had he been all this time? What had kept him away for so long?
Having only one question answered opened the floodgates for even more, and it was all she could do to not send a Patronus message of her own demanding answers from either of them. However she was aware that some delicacy was needed, especially if her brother in all but blood had managed to get himself into his usual niche of trouble. Extracting him out before he had seen it to the end would prove troublesome, even for the best of them.
For now she could only hope that they were both safe, and that they had managed to not Stupefy each other at this point, between their two tempers. No doubt upon being fully reacquainted with each other, and argument would arise, and property damage might be somewhat heavy.
Pulled out of her thoughts by the scuff of her husband's feet on the floor alerting her of his return, she turned and looked at him. A connection of eyes that meant that no further discussion was really needed on either of their parts as to the subject that they had both had their minds tangled up with. Now it would be just a waiting game for more information, much as they may want to go hunt down their wayward family themselves. Now, time would tell what trouble might come.