"Well, he did confess," Ron pointed to his agitated partner.
"How is it that you're the one trying to calm me down?" Harry returned.
"It seems the two of you switch who has the level head," Hermione laughed. "Besides, he's right."
"It could turn out to be a good thing," Ginny added. "Like Astoria said, there will be more people on the lookout now."
"Maybe, but you do realize the amount of reports we've gotten just today of 'suspicious activity?" the lead auror made air quotes with his fingers.
It was true, after leaving the Minister for Magic's office that morning, multiple calls and shows came in saying that this, that, and the other had been out of place. In addition, many had simply reached out to the aurors to complain, vent, or ask what they should be doing to properly protect themselves. Several parents had demanded extra security for their children, even though the cases had had no affiliation with Hogwarts or employees of the school.
It all ended with Harry, along with the one Shackelbolt already gave, issuing an official statement that there had been no threat to the general public nor any named individuals outside of the investigations department who had not been notified. It was also assured that everyone should go about their usual business until further notice and only first hand accounts of seeing either Gerald or Rookwood should warrant the aurors' attention as they worked around the clock to solve the problem.
The bustle had kept them at the Ministry past hours and both were extremely relieved when they could clock out at last. Their wives had already gone home for the day and were happy to see their overworked men though it was nearly nightfall. The evening since had consisted of attempts to relax the wizards and talk of things other than the case, but with the added stress and knowing that they had one brother who disappeared to deal with his grief while another searched for Fred's killer, it was impossible to do.
"It's an odd question, but something just struck me," Ginny broke an awkward silence that had settled in the den of the Weaseley-Granger residence. "This demon bit is pretty similar to the vampires. Do you think... I don't know. It's probably silly."
"Yeah, probably," Ron agreed absentmindedly, bringing judging glances from his wife, sister, and Harry.
"What is it?" the other auror grinned.
"I just wondered if perhaps Gerald needed anything like blood to survive too," she shrugged. "Just thinking about the people he's said to have killed. Even Lucius, I mean."
"I hadn't though about it," her husband mused. "I somehow don't think so. Yet perhaps it's more the thought I don't like the idea. If Lucius is a sort of feeding, the energy or what have you, that's worse than just drinking blood, I would say.. It would mean doing this is a regular thing for Gerald, which is not something we've seen."
"Logically speaking," Hermione picked up matter-of-factly, "It would just be his anger and lack of control. Perhaps his own version of revenge...of scaring others off. Besides, if he did have a similar diet, I would think the vampires would have caught onto him well before now," the witch stopped and stared blankly as she took a sip of tea, "Though I suppose it raises some more questions."
"Such as?" Harry prompted.
"What tipped them off? Was it just his move here? And if so, does that mean there aren't any of their species overseas?" Hermione spit-fired, "As well, there definitely are similarities in the creatures. Perhaps vampires are a sort of demon? If that's the case, it's likely they would be able to shed a lot of light on what Gerald is and what he's fully capable of."
"I don't think vampires like to 'shed light' on much, yah?" Ron stated plainly.
The other three paused and were looking at the red-headed boy again.
"Ronald, was that...a pun?" Hermione asked, appearing dumbfounded.
"Yah," a grin creeped slowly onto his face.
Harry was the first to burst into laughter, joined by his wife, and lastly by Hermione who simply smiled and shook her head while trying not to spill her drink. The pleasant turn in the day did not last but a matter of seconds as the cellular in the lead auror's pocket went off.
"Hello?" he answered, still chuckling.
"Harry, can you and Ron and-uh-and your wives meet me at the Burrow? It's important."
"George?" Harry's expression fell somber as did that of the others in the room when he spoke the name.
"Yeah, look it's important. Please. I'm heading there now," George's voice was shaky, like he was frightened.
"Of course, but are you okay?" the auror asked, his own heart rate picking up.
"Uh," there was an audible swallow and clear hesitation, "I'm-I'm fine. Please, just-just-"
"OK, mate we're leaving right now," Harry informed, standing from his seat.
Click. There was no further response as the call ended from the other end.
"What's wrong with George?" Ron asked.
Harry shook his head, "I don't know, but something bad has happened. I can tell," the wizard immediately started walking to the fireplace.
"Where are we going? The Burrow?" Hermione surmised.
Harry nodded before continuing to throw the floo powder he had grabbed and stepping into the flames with his wife, who had nervously slipped her hand into his. The four were soon in the old Weaseley home, spotting Molly and Arthur sitting on the couch with George. He sat silently, head dropped and gazing at the floor as he rapidly bounced his knee up and down in an anxious motion.
Upon seeing the rest of her family come in, Molly reached out to place a caring hand on the distraught wizard's shoulder, only to have him jerk away and stand, stepping from the witch, "Please don't touch me," he whispered.
The two younger couples carefully strolled about the scene, almost forming a circle around the twin. All refused to sit, feeling the tension of the situation and not knowing what the hell was going on.
"Everyone's here, George," Arthur said calmly from his chair. "What is it you were wanting to tell us?"
The stressed wizard finally looked up, yet didn't place his vision on anyone. He just shook his head violently back and forth.
"It's okay, dear," his mother reached out again, quickly retreating though it pained her not to hold her child during such discomfort. "You can talk to us about anything."
The twin put a hand on his face as he gazed back at his mother, his eyes glossy with tears that then began rolling down his cheeks. He used that hand to wipe the moisture away before letting it fall to his side where it clutched the old brown pants he wore. "I'm so sorry," he was still whispering, "I'm so sorry."
"George, what happened?" Harry asked firmly yet soothingly, "It's okay...but we can't help if you don't tell us."
George cut his eyes to the auror, suddenly grabbing his wand and pulling it upward, prompting Arthur to jump from his seat as he joined the others in taking hold of their weapons as well.
But the twin didn't aim his wand at the family. Instead, he turned it upon himself, "I'm so sorry," he repeated,"I tried."
Energy began pooling around the tip of George's wand.
"George, stop!"
"What are you doing?"
"Don't!"
The cries came simultaneously as the family anticipated the depressed man harming himself...ending his grief...
But they were wrong.
"Revelio," George breathed as another tear streamed down.
The wizard fell to his knees and tossed his wand to Arthur's feet. He once more stared at the floor, obviously fighting the urge to hold his face and sob. The family watched, weapons still up, while their son and brother changed...his form slowly shifting from the man they held so dear...to one they had never seen.
The company stayed in that position, speechless, trying to formulate an appropriate response. The wizard that they thought up until a moment ago was George, gradually looked up at them, "I'm sorry. I tried," he said again, taking heavy breaths.
It was the father who first acted. In a fit of fury and sorrow, he lunged at the imposter, grabbing him by the neck of his sweater...no, his son's sweater, and thrusting him upward against the wall behind them.
"Where the hell is my son? Who are you?" Arthur growled, giving the stranger another forceful shove.
"My name is Alan!" the man cried, holding his hands up in surrender, "Alan Jameson. Lacrima-the-the vampire! They put me here!"
Molly leaned down to pick up the wand he had thrown away, gingerly thumbing it. It belonged to George, "Where is my son?" her voice broke as she put a weak face onto her husband and the man that had fooled them. "Is my son-"
She couldn't finish. Ginny and Hermione were instantly by her side, holding her and offering comfort.
"I won't ask again," Arthur growled at the wizard, now taking his own wand and digging it into the man's neck.
"He's alive! As far as I am told, he's alive," Jameson choked out. "I don't know why they want him. I was only made to come here."
The man seemed sincere in the words and even more genuine in his remorse. Harry stepped by the witches, shooting a concerned look at them as he passed. Getting closer to Another and Alan, he lowered his wand. Ron had also approached, but kept himself armed.
"Were you being controlled by this Lacr-" the lead auror stumbled on the strange name.
"Lacrima," Alan swallowed, "Yes."
Harry carefully reached over Arthur and pushed George's sweater from the wizard's shoulder to reveal several prick marks in sets of two. Vampire bites. He had been bitten multiple times. Some of the wounds were already scarred and fading. How long had he been their slave? The newest piercing was agitated. The circles were swollen and pussy along with leaking an odd green color. Harry let go of the fabric and leaned back.
"I promise you," the imposter continued, "I've been trying to fight it. I have. When I was finally able to...when I saw I was free..I came immediately to tell you...I'm so sorry. I didn't..."
The elder Weasely at last let up from the wizard who seemed to be on the verge of tears again. Alan appeared to be close in age to Arthur though probably a bit younger. His hair was still entirely brown and he had a full beard and mustache to match, though it wasn't quite as thick as that of the Dumbledores. Even with being let go, he did not stray from the spot he had been left in, realizing his intense position.
"How can we be certain this isn't part of the trick?" Ron inquired, wand aimed at Alan.
"I'll do anything!" Jameson exclaimed. "Literally anything you need. Anything to prove to you. Just please...don't let them take me again."
Arthur glanced back at his wife before exchanging a thoughtful look with the aurors, "How long have you been a prisoner?"
The man shook his head, "I don't...um...when I was twenty. That's when I was kidnapped."
"How old are you now, then?" Harry inquired.
"I-I...don't know," Alan's eyes were darting back and forth in thought. "1827," he finally stated withe certainty, "That's when I was born."
"1827?" Ron repeated. "Blimey."
Alan looked confused, "What's wrong? What year is it?"
"It's the 21st century, mate," Ron answered.
The man's eyes grew large, "You're joking."
"Are you?" the red-headed auror returned.
Alan shook his head fervently.
"What can you tell us about these creatures?" Arthur pressed.
Alan looked nervously between the father and the aurors.
"Come, uh," the eldest Weaseley cleared his throat, understanding the other man's uneasiness, "Sit back down," he added awkwardly, brushing his nose with his hand as he turned and gestured at the couch.
Jameson kept his stance, eyes moving expectantly around until spotting Molly and the witches and then his gaze was on the ground once more. Molly, unable to resist her motherly personality, tucked away from the others, handing George's wand off to her husband and then approached the mistreated wizard.
"Please," she said softly, offering her hand, "Come sit and help us get my son back."