"I honestly don't think he did know anything," Ron spoke to his wife who sat closely beside him.
"I agree," Harry said, "He seemed sincere. Curious, but sincere."
The pair had returned from Malfoy's home in Wiltshire just before six. Hermione had re-heated roast and vegetables from the previous nights meal and the three were munching while discussing their meeting with Draco and future meetings with Lucius and Karkaroff.
"Something's telling me that none of them are actually aware of Gerald," Harry admitted, biting into a potato.
"Me too," Ron agreed, "Of course I didn't think so from the beginning."
"I don't know," Hermione mused as she pushed a green bean in circles on her plate with a fork. "It does seem unlikely that they knew since after all this time, he or anyone who could have been him were mentioned by the deatheaters...especially when Draco's father basically sent all of them to Azkaban to save himself, but..." She put her fork down and looked up at her two friends, "at the same time it was Lucius Malfoy who was the only deatheater to give information on any more than one or two of Voldemort's other allies."
There was a pause.
"So?" Harry poked.
"So," Hermione continued, "None of them gave up more than was needed for them to be released from prison except Lucius who, as far as we know with him being basically second to Voldemort, gave up everyone that was left."
"Wait," Ron's voice squeaked as he almost choked on a mouthful of pork, "Are you saying that maybe some of them knew about Gerald and he just happened to not be someone that any of them talked to the Ministry about?"
Harry caught onto the theory quickly and piped in, "And perhaps Lucius decided to continue keeping Gerald a secret because he had never been mentioned? But why? Do you think he plans on trying to start another bloodline war?"
Hermione shook her head slowly, her brow furrowed in contemplation, "I don't know. It's just a thought, but...I feel it's equally as strange that we're just now learning about Gerald."
"Maybe..." Ron mumbled.
"Alright," Harry said, "but let's not assume anything right now. This could all be as simple as its been presented."
The other wizards nodded. All of them certainly hoped that turned out to be the case. The three continued with their meals in silence for several minutes when suddenly, the phone rang. Hermione hurried to swallow the food in her mouth, putting her plate on the coffee table in the middle of the group before reaching to the side and picking up the phone.
"Hello?"she smiled.
A crackle of a voice sounded on the other end causing her smile to fall. "Um...j-just a moment," she replied to it nervously before turning slowly toward Harry. Her expression changed to one of concern as she held out the device. "It's Oliver Smith," she said. "He wants to speak with you."
Ron immediately dropped his plate onto the table, putting one arm around his wife's shoulder and the other in her lap in order to comfort her. Harry grabbed the phone, pausing to exchange startled glances with the couple before speaking to the man on the other end of the line.
"This is Harry Potter."
"Mr. Potter? Hello, this is Oliver Smith...I was told you were looking for me?" the man spoke confidently.
"Um, yes, thank you for contacting me," Harry returned politely but awkwardly.
"I apologize for calling Mr. Weasley's home. The ministry was closed and I didn't receive an answer at your home either," he continued. "I only just spoke with Stephen and wanted to get in touch with you as soon as possible," Oliver explained.
"No, it's alright," Harry assured, starting to relax. "We-"
"I know this is about Gerald," the man interrupted.
Harry paused. "Yes," he confirmed, "Are the two of you here in England?"
"We are."
Another pause. Harry was having trouble reading the man. He seemed extremely sure of himself...but Harry couldn't tell if he felt the man was trustworthy or not. His words weren't rude however he didn't seem kind either. "Mr. Weasley and I would like both of you to come into our office at the ministry tomorrow to speak with us."
"We'd much prefer a visit from you," Oliver returned, not skipping a beat.
Harry took a deep breath in and exhaled. He shot a confused glance at Ron who mouthed the word 'what?' "Mr. Smith-"
"Please, call me Oliver," it was the first thing he had said that Harry could take as pleasant.
"Oliver..." Harry began to protest the man's proposed arrangement when he realized that there wasn't yet a reason to. So instead he asked, "Where can we find you?"
"Guildford," the man answered, "Residence 14 on Salt Box Road."
Harry tapped his robes with his free hand. His small notepad flew out along with his quill. The tablet flipped itself open to a clean sheet and the quill waited for its master to speak, "14, Salt Box Road, Guildford," Harry repeated, the quill writing with furious speed.
"Right."
"We will see you in the morning then? Ten?" Harry commanded the quill to rest.
"Perfect," Oliver replied. "Good evening."
"Good evening..." Harry trailed but the line had already gone dead.
"What the bloody hell?" Ron exclaimed as Harry dropped the phone from his ear and placed it on the table.
"Guildford?" Hermione spoke. "Oliver and Gerald are living there?"
"Apparently," Harry said. "He said they wanted us to visit them rather than the other way around."
Hermione and her husband looked at each other quickly before returning their attention to Harry who was rubbing his eyes. "Am I the only one that found that all a bit odd?" Ron asked.
Harry shook his head.
"It is weird that he called just after the two of you spoke with Draco," Hermione almost whispered.
"No assumptions, guys, right?" Harry ordered under the guise of a polite reminder.
The two others nodded and remained silence. It may just have been that he was tired, but still they felt Harry was struggling with the idea of another Voldemort being in their midst...
The three decided that there was no point in Harry and Ron rising at their normal time in order to be at their office at eight, meddling around for less than an hour, and then having to leave to take the bus to Guildford. So instead, they stayed home and slept in. Or at least Ron and Hermione had...
The couple had been correct in their suspicions of Harry's worry. Voldemort's crimes had destroyed the lives of many, but the strong connections the dark lord had had with Harry Potter had been so terrible as to where the thought of the cruel dark wizard were nearly never absent from the auror's mind.
He laid in bed for several hours after departing his friends' home, battling his fears with his rationality. He knew there had been no magical crimes found involving Gerald Davis and no severe muggle crimes. He knew that it was his own past and Gerald's that made him so concerned. But even running through these things over and over, he still felt very disconcerted about it all. Hermione's theory certainly hadn't helped.
If it hadn't been for skipping going into the office that morning, Harry wouldn't have gotten any sleep at all. Even so, it seemed as soon as he had fallen asleep, he was awake again, getting ready to meet Ron and Hermione at the bus station. Hermione was going to accompany them to the town, but not to the meeting. Once again, for the sake of professionalism.
The bus ride was pretty quiet both because it was an odd time to be aboard it on a weekday and because the trio were all still waking up so very few words were exchanged. They reached Guildford in no time, hopping from the bus very conveniently at the end of Salt Box Road. The road, although in the middle of the town, was lined densely with trees and other greenery. As the trio neared their destination, Hermione grew nervous for the safety of her husband and her dear friend.
"Please, be careful, you two," she said, her hands worriedly running inside of Ron's robes, checking to be sure his wand was in tact and ready.
He grabbed her hands and put them back and her sides and gave her a smile, "It'll be alright, Hermione. I promise you we will be cautious, but I really doubt anything is going to happen," he then turned to Harry, "Isn't that right?"
"Hm? Yeah, sure," Harry's attention was on a house far off the road to their right. It was a two-story brick structure surrounded heavily with vines, shrubs, and trees. There was a gravel path that led from the sidewalk to the front door that was barely noticeable between the overgrown lawn. On the mailbox to the side of the the door was the number '14.'
"That's it then?" Hermione stated, stepping closely beside her husband as the two crept behind Harry and stared as well.
"Well, it doesn't seem so bad," Ron said, "I mean except for the lawn which looks pretty ghastly."
Hermione gave the man a look and shook her head. "I'll wait right out here on the walkway," she said.
Harry had already begun walking through the weeds to the house. Ron quickly gave his wife a half hug and skipped quickly to catch up with his partner. When the two reached the door, Harry held up his hand to knock, but hesitated. Ron's breath hitched as he started to say something to put his friend at ease but suddenly stopped after surmising doing so might make him feel self-conscious.
When Harry finally pulled his fist back to knock, the door opened without the need for him to. The black haired man with rigid features from the photograph Harry had been studying for days stepped into view. He greeted the aurors with a huge smile.
"Thank you for coming to us instead," Oliver said. "Please, come on in," he turned around and walked back inside, assuming his guests would follow.
Harry and Ron did, of course, Ron closing the door behind them.
"It's completely alright. Thank you," Harry returned.
Oliver led them to a large, open room. The walls were white and the floors were wood of a dark color. There was an oversized red couch, loveseat, and chair to one side and on the other side was a large television set with a smaller couch and a handful of chairs. There were red accent shelves and pieces in various places as well. This modern interior greatly contrasted with the outside of the residence which spoke to have been built many decades prior. It must have all been redone.
"Ger!" Oliver called over toward the red furniture. Harry looked, but didn't see anyone. "Harry Potter and Ron Weasley made it."
Over the back of the couch, a hand with black nail polish reached, tightening as it helped to pull Gerald Davis' body up from laying and into a seated position. When his head came into view, the aurors' stances strengthened. The mysterious wizard grinned saying, "It's nice to meet you both," his words too thick to be seen as polite.