[[5 years later]]
Gabrielle walked out into the manicured garden around the miniature castle, fuming. Harry was late. Again! She looked around - 'yup. I don't recognize a single person.' Though honestly, she was more nervous than angry - the eighteen year old witch had only moved to England two months ago, and her English was still atrocious. Obviously, she could communicate the basics, but for an extrovert like her to not be able to chat with all the fascinating people around her was stifling.
And even a new-comer like her could tell that this function was filled with a who's who of British wizarding society. She had already seen the Foreign Minister walk by with his wife, as well as a quidditch player (she didn't know which one, but she had seen his photo in the papers).
"Gabrielle, right?" She turned to see a tall, blond (and very handsome) man approaching. It took her a moment to remember that she wasn't supposed to be looking like that (though the wedding band he was sporting helped). "You probably don't remember me, I'm Neville. Harry Patronus'ed me that he would be running late, and asked me to look after you."
"Oh, you speak French!" She was relieved, gracing her savior with a glowing smile.
"Only a little – I am using a translation spell that the Ministry just developed." Gabi belatedly realized that his lip motions didn't match his words. "One of the perks of being an Auror. Come on, I'll introduce you to the Weasleys."
They were outside a function hall a couple miles south of Hogsmeade. The actual wedding would be inside, in an overly cliche miniature castle modeled on the famous school, but the reception had spilled out into the immaculately maintained lawns. While small, this was nevertheless a very prestigious venue, appropriate for a senior government official or a quidditch star.
"So, you and Harry went to school with them?" Gabrielle gestured vaguely towards the wedding hall as she followed Neville, who led her into the maze of rose bushes and tall hedges that broke up the grounds, creating private spaces for people to chat during the reception.
"Yeah. Ron was our year. I wasn't really close with him, but after Harry helped him with the Triwizard Tournament, they became friends." Neville decided to gloss over all the details. If Ron wanted talk up his supposed role in bringing down Voldemort, then he could do it himself. Merlin knows that he is gifted enough at self-aggrandizement that he didn't need any help. Neville was just turning towards the refreshments table when a certain redhead appeared as from nowhere.
"These canapes are to die for! I need to get the name of that caterer. You want one? " Ginny held out a small tray that she must have stolen from one of the waitstaff. "Though I'm not going to have my wedding here – it's too kitschy. I was thinking of Farnham castle."
"Gabrielle, this is Ginny – she's the sister of the groom and one of the maids of honor. Ginny, this is Gabrielle, Harry's uhm… friend."
"Yeah, Harry has had a lot of 'uhm, friends' over the past couple of years," Ginny smirked evilly. "Anyway, how did you meet Harry?"
[[flashback]]
Harry sighed. It had been a very long day. He'd had to get up at 5 in the morning to make it to the 9 am meeting at the French Ministry with the Secretary of the French Deputy-Minister for fisheries. And for what? To resolve some trade regulation that could have easily been resolved by a ministry flunky. That is why the Government HAD bureaucrat, so that they could go and do bureaucratic flunky stuff. But ever since the French had bailed them out during the 'Troubles' with Voldemort, they had insisted on escalating things. And were there ever 'things!' If the British wizarding community could be stereotyped as backwards looking and resistant to change, the French Wizarding community was high strung and prone to anger. Especially when it involved anything British. Harry had spent the past two hours talking fish and fishing rights and exclusion zones. At least Deputy-Minister Delacour's secretary had been gracious about it - he realized that this was far below Harry's typical purview.
And talking a foreign language was tiring, even if he was getting better at it with all of the practice he had been having lately. 'At least they have a nice cafe right in the Ministry building.' Harry ordered a pair of crousonts and some black coffee and was just turning to go find a table when he came face to face with a perky teen witch.
"Hello! I have been waiting for you!" She blurted out, a little out of breath like she had just been running.
"Hello. I think you have me confused with somebody else." Harry looked around to see if the young witch had gotten lost from a school tour group. It was October, and she looked to be all of 15.
"No, Harry. I am here for you. My Papa told me you were here at his office today," she simpered prettily.
Harry stopped and looked, trying to see if he recognized the girl.
Nope.
And underage groupies were more Ron's thing (Or they used to be, before he got serious with Lavender). Not having an automatic 'get out of jail free' card like the Boy-Who-Blasted-Voldemort's-Head-Off, Harry always made sure that the girls he shagged were of age.
He was just opening his mouth the reply in that vein when she added. "I am Gabrielle Delacour. You rescued my back during the Triwizard Tournament."
"Oh." That would make her.. eighteen or so. "Oh!" Harry took a moment to take in the witch in front of him. She actually was a rather attractive woman. "You've grown up!" He replied stupidly.
"It's been eight years Harry." She stood and waited for Harry to respond. As the silence dragged on, she added, "I told you I would wait for you."
In the back of Harry's head a little voice started screaming 'Alert! Alert! Eject! Eject!' But what came out of his mouth instead was, "and you mean you haven't dated anyone since then?"
"Oh, poo. Those were all just practice," she simpered again, leaning in so that she was almost touching Harry.
"Um.." Harry was still at loss for words, "Why don't we go sit down?" He gestured to the food that was still in his hands. Once they had taken seats, towards the back of the cafe, Harry asked, "So, what did you want to talk about?"
"Um," Now that she had actually managed to reunite with Harry, her mind went blank.
"Let me guess – you didn't think this through past 'ambush Harry at the Ministry?'" Harry smiled to take the sting out of his words, "Why don't you tell me what you're going now. I assume you just graduated Beauxbatons?"
And that opened up the floodgates. As Gabrielle chattered away, Harry ate his lunch. 'Maybe today wasn't such a bad day.'
[[now]]
"We just happened to run into each other when he was the French Ministry." In retrospect, her behavior back then had been a tad embarrassing (she blamed it on her Veela blood). She quickly looked around for some way to change the subject, "Is that Lavender? She looks really young to be getting married."
Neville shrugged. "She's the same age as Ron." And Harry, but that went unsaid.
"Yeah, Ronnie-kins is on the fast track to Minister of Magic, but even being the 'Boy Who Lived' isn't enough for some of the stick-in-the-muds, so he figured that he should get married, so as not to scandalize them. Merlin knows Ron and Lavender have been dating long enough." Ginny was a little ambivalent on the topic of her brother. On the one hand, she appreciated how he had buckled down and made something of himself (even if he had leaned heavily on his fame). And getting married was also a sign of maturity (even if it was to 'Lav-lav'). On the other hand, he was still a prat who felt the need to be the center of all attention. She wasn't certain how Lavender put up with him. 'Well, she's pretty shallow herself, and getting hitched to somebody famous mightbe compensation enough.'
Or maybe she actually loved him, though that seemed unlikely (No, Ginny wasn't being catty. She would never do something like that).
"From the way you are talking, I would think you are getting married as well."
"Yeah, probably next year. Viktor Krumb - he's the Seeker for the Lyons Lions – and I have been going out for almost a year, and we're pretty serious. That's why I picked up some French – we spend half the year in France."
"Is he here?"
Ginny shrugged. "No, he has an evening match later today and couldn't get away." It was something she was used to: they often couldn't make social functions together - it was an unfortunate part of life when you were both juggling career and a relationship. "He's the best flier of his generation. Much better than Harry ever was, if I have to say so."
"He used to play for Bulgaria, but France has deeper pockets," Neville interrupted before Ginny could get started about the wonders of all things Victor. "Mind you, Victor is worth whatever they were paying him – he is a phenomenal Seeker." Almost as good as Harry would have been if he had kept up with the sport.
"You play for Quidditch professionally as well, non? Isn't it tough, playing against your boyfriend?"
"Hasn't happened yet – we're in different leagues, so the only way we would ever face off would in the World Cup." And while Victor would make his national team, Ginny probably wouldn't.
Much to her surprise, she was ok with that. Ginny handed her half-full tray of canapes to a server (placing it into his free hand, as she took a flute of champagne from the tray in his other hand). The server's eyes got really big. It wasn't clear whether it was because he recognized Puddlemere United's star chaser, or because he was desperately trying to balance two trays at once. "Is everybody here? I mean all of us 'Rangers'?"
The former Rangers had gone their separate ways, though they still got together once a summer for a cookout & some quidditch. All of them had a sense of having been part of something unique and important, though it wasn't something that people who hadn't gone through it could really understand. "Nearly – Dean has gotten a little weird lately - he's gotten some conspiracy theory into his head about Muggles using radar waves to control the Ministry of Magic, so he's skipping any gatherings with Ministry officials, to avoid being a target."
Ginny laughed, "Oh, that was a near miss!" She leaned over to Gabrielle conspiratorially, "I dated Dean right out of school. Can you imagine me as Ginny Thomas, spouting some crazy conspiracy theories about overthrowing the duly elected government or something, while standing in my dressing gown and curlers on the stoop of an overgrown house that smells of cat pee?"
"Oy, Dean isn't that bad." Neville defended classmate. 'Yet.'
Ginny shrugged, changing the subject, "Where is Harry, anyway?"
\*/
The Wizengamot chamber was only 1/2 full. At least with people: it was 100% full with noise, as Elphias Doge rattled on in full throated attack on the 'heathen practices' of the Persian wizards, and how they would degrade the 'morals and traditions' of the upstanding English wizards.
Harry surreptitiously massaged his temples. The old Doge was a staunch member of Albus' faction, and had even fought for the Order, so Harry wasn't certain if he was actually arguing the Pureblood agenda or he was gaslighting them in some misguided notion of supporting Hermione. But whatever he was doing, he had come out of left field, without any warning or factional support, and made a mess of Harry's carefully choreographed agenda. 'I wish Hermione was here.' That was a rare thought for Harry, given how they were on politically opposite sides more often than not recently, but at least he wouldn't have to be suffering through this ill conceived argument in favor of Merlin-knows-what. Hermione's position was often wrong headed, but at least it was cogent and to the point (and too often, effective).
Harry checked his watch. And Elphias was remarkably long winded for a man who looked like he was on deaths door. As soon as Elphias paused to take a breath (and possibly gather his wits – the last ten minutes of his rant had been a re-broadcast of Elphias' greatest hits from the past decade), Harry stood up, "Thank you, Elphias Doge, for your insightful comments, but at this time we are discussing education, which, as I am sure all of our members agree, is one of the foundations of wizarding England, and which will instill proper wizarding culture in all that partake, as it has done with our brethren that 'grew up Muggle'." Harry subtly referenced Dennis Creevy as he attempted to steer Elphias towards a more relevant (or at least useful, from his perspective) leg of Hermione's platform, which he could then kick out from under him. Tomorrow.
The younger Creevy had just graduated Hogwarts but he was already a rising star at the Daily Prophet. His column – 'Growing Up Muggle' – has made him a household name all over England, especially among the Purebloods, for his lucid and personable writing style and candid view into muggle life.
"As it appears we will not be able to resolve this matter in today's session, I motion that we adjourn for today and take this up tomorrow." And hopefully he could get Whipple to bend Elphias' ear before then, so that they could actually make some progress.
"Seconded!" Oliver Bones had inherited the Bones seat after it was confirmed that Amelia had been murdered by Death Eaters. He was the diametric opposite of his older sister – he was a well meaning older gentleman who had spent most of his life running a wizarding tour business out of his family's ancestral home and didn't have a political bone in is body. He had decided to personally take his seat on the Wizengamot instead of appointing a proxy out of a sense of obligation. He was also firmly in Harry's faction, and could be relied on to second Harry on anything procedural like this.
Harry breathed a sigh of relief and exited the overly grandiose chamber with unseemly haste, throwing his purple formal robe into his office at a run.
'Thank Merlin, we survived, even without Hermione to leash Elphias.' Even through she was not a Member, and had no official say in the Wizengamot, whenever she was present as a 'guest of the chamber' Hermione would always find some bit of procedure to bring up or she would slip one of her allies some meticulously researched data that would focus the debate and drive Harry spare.
Previously, it was usually something having to do with Muggle rights, which was fine with him. It even made them (reluctant) allies more often than not, but lately she had been cutting him off at the knees whenever he brought up the Iraqi refugee question. It had gotten to be so bad that some days he couldn't even raise a topic for discussion without being interrupted by her minions. He wasn't certain why she felt so strongly about it. He was starting to think that she just enjoyed stymieing him out of pure contrariness.
'Actually, maybe Elphias' rant really was part of her ploy.' It would make sense - Hermione could have kept this pointless session running overtime solely for the purpose of making him embarrassingly late in front of his new girlfriend. Because that's the sort of woman she was.
\*/
The young professor sighed as she read the minutes of the Wizengamot. As a non-member, she wasn't supposed to have those, but she had outgrown her obsession with following the rules. Harry had shown her that to accomplish great things, you sometimes had to abandon the 'established' way and follow your own moral compass.
"And what am I going to do about Harry?" Hermione dropped the papers onto her desk and went to the other side of her office get a cup of tea. She hated (absolutely hated!) the fact that they had somehow ended up on opposite sides, politically, and he now seemed to view her as his own personal nemesis.
Despite the fact that she had never left Hogwarts – first she got her Mastery in Arithmancy with Professor Vector, and then she had taken over as the Transfiguration Professor once McGonagall had retired – they saw each other regularly, as she had followed in Professor Dumbledore's footsteps and became heavily involved in Wizarding politics.
She was a regular contributor to the Daily Prophet, writing insightful (and sometimes scathing) editorials, and she had the ear of several members of Dumbledore's Order who had seats on the Wizengamot.
Or at least they used to see each other regularly. 'Why doesn't he realize that his well meaning but ill conceived 'noblesse oblige' will undermine muggle rights?' Cup in hand,Hermione paced back to her desk before turning around and going back the way she came, making a circuit of her small office in frustration: Frustration at the policies Harry was championing. Frustration that he didn't realize that they were actually on the same side. Frustration that he couldn't comprehend that she (always) had his best interests at heart. She was just taking a sip of her tea to calm herself down when there was knock on her door, "Professor? I have a question about the upcoming exam." A fourth year Hufflepuff peered in hesitantly. Finals were next week, and the students were all stressed.
'Thank goodness, an interruption!' Hermione smiled warmly, "Come in. Lemon drop?" She gestured to the dish of candies as she forced herself to sit down behind her desk.
\*/
"Hey, guys, Gabi. Sorry I'm late" Harry swooped in (not literally – he almost never had time for flying anymore), giving his girlfriend a peck on the cheek before turning to his brother. "The Wizengamot had another argument, er I mean 'discussion', about allowing in the Persian wizards."
"What is there to allow?" Gabrielle, or Gabi as Harry called her, didn't understand the point. Despite (or perhaps because of) growing up in a political family, she had paid no attention to the intricacies of government. "They're here already, aren't they?"
"I already explained this."
"Yes, but I wasn't listening," she gave him her typically brilliant smile.
[[Flashback]]
"So, what exactly does the Wizengamot do?" Gabi asked. It was later the same day after she had re-united with Harry and they were in apartment, in bed, with Gabrielle draped naked across Harry.
"Well, most of my time right now is taken up with trying to help the Persian wizards – the refugees from the war in Iraq." Harry replied indulgently. He appreciated witches that didn't go in for a long courtship before hopping into the sack. Given his record, there wouldn't BE a long courtship. But that was fine – he was more focused on his work: not his career, but on the actual good that he could accomplish with it. That was why he had cajoled Sirius into letting him take over as the proxy for House Black in the Wizengamot (and racked up a substantial debt buying out the previous proxy's contract) instead of continuing on in law enforcement.
"But isn't that what the Ministry does? What does this have to do with the Wizengamot?"
Harry sighed. "Well… here's one example: When a new spell is invented by Arithmancers, it has to be added to the British magical language, which is based on Latin."
"So you invent spells?" Gabrielle was very confused as to where this is going, but she didn't mind. In her experience, men talked about boring stuff that made them feel important, so she tuned it out and concentrated on the thing that really mattered: She had finally shagged Harry!
And he really was as hot as she remembered. No, even more so!
"No. That's mostly the Department of Mysteries. Or Hogwarts professors, or sometimes talented amateurs. But once they publish their research, the Wizengamot adds those spells to the magical language, so that they are accessible to all British wizards." Harry sighed, seeing her blank look. "Sorry, I'm not explaining this well. Iraqi wizards use Persian as their magical language. Which is all fine and good, but if they are living in the UK, we teach in Latin, so their kids can't go to Hogwarts or any other British school – well the ones that are born here can, but not the ones that came as refugees with their parent. The faction that I am heading is trying to add the Persian spells to the Register of British Magic, so that they can continue to learn in their own language."
"And the Purebloods don't like that?"
"They are not happy about it, but most of the resistance is actually from the Muggle born rights faction – they are worried that the Iraqi wizards are all very traditional purebloods, and that adding their voice will set back the Muggle born agenda."
"well, I'm sure you'll figure something out," She leaned in to kiss him.
[[now]]
"And are you listening now?"
"Nope!" She gave another cheerful smile.
Harry sighed and shook his head, but he couldn't get angry with her honesty. She was too cute (and really energetic in the sack as well). 'This is so not going to end well.' But for the moment, it was a fun ride.
"I hear Susan is leaving you?" Harry turned to his brother, giving him a suggestive eyebrow waggle.
"Yeah, though I wouldn't have put it quite that way," Neville sighed at his brothers turn of phrase. Harry might look like he had grown up and become a serious and respectable member of society, but he was still a prankster at heart. (Actually, Neville glanced over at Harry's newest girlfriend – the second this year - scratch that about being grown up). "She's serious about going into law. Now I'm going to have to train up a new partner." He gave an over-dramatic sigh. "All of our friends are copying you, using the Aurors as a springboard on to political greatness."
Harry snorted. "I'm just a fresh-faced Member of Wizengamot. It's not like I'm on track to be the youngest Minister of Magic since Pitt the Younger." Harry jerked his head towards where Ron was making the rounds, shaking hands with all of the guests under the watchful eyes of a contingent of Aurors. After the second battle of Hogwarts, Ron had really pulled his act together, somehow managing to get a NEWT in Charms and Transfiguration, before going on to work at the Ministry. "And besides, I think you have to be in your forties before people start calling you great. Or at least have a long gray beard."
"Oh, there you are!" Harry's diatribe was interrupted by the arrival of a hugely pregnant blond woman. "Sorry I disappeared like that, but I am peeing for two. I hope I didn't miss anything."
"Nope, just Harry being an ass, as usual." Neville gently punched his brother in the arm to make sure he knew that he wasn't being serious.
The woman turned to Gabrielle, "You must be Harry's girlfriend. I'm Daphne. It's nice to meet you." Despite her condition, she didn't look the least bit tired, "It's nice to take a break - I've been working none stop, getting my staff ready for my absence."
"What do you do? Won't having kids interfere with a career?" Gabi couldn't imagine having kids until she was older. Much, much older. Like thirty.
Daphne shrugged, "I manage the family import / export business (We mostly work in high end luxury goods, like handbags)." Though lately, they had been expanding, picking up a lot of contracts that used to go to the Malfoys, "They can't exactly fire me." Especially if they didn't want her husband investigating which side the family had backed during the 'Troubles' as Voldemort's reign of terror was now being called.
\*/
As Harry stood with Gabi and Ginny, he turned back to watch the parade of people waiting to shake Ron's hand. It was a veritable who's who – Ron was a rising star, and he had invited everybody who was anybody in wizarding Britain, so as not to offend somebody with influence.
"I bet this shindig is going to put a hole in Ron's wallet."
"Tell me about it," Ginny rolled her eyes, "I had to spot him 5K." After a pause, she grimaced and added. "I should go say 'hi' to Lavender." It was the right thing to do. Ron and his fiance were following the tradition of the bridal couple nor seeing each other for a week before the wedding, so Lavender was ensconced at the other side of the reception, in the rose garden. And while there was a small cluster of people with her – mostly her school friends – there was nowhere near as many as at the other end, with Ron.
Just as Ginny turned to walk off, Gabi started as she saw a couple stroll by. The woman looked like the spitting image of her, except older. "Fleur?" She darted forward, speaking rapid fire French.
"Oh, this will be good." Ginny paused to watch, taking the opportunity to finish off her champaign. Too bad she didn't have popcorn to go with it.
"What?" Harry looked confused.
"That's Bill, my other brother, the one who's become an embarrassment now that Ron's gotten his act together - so the woman on his arm must be his girlfriend, Tonks. She's a metamorphomagus, and they like playing 'dress up' - she takes on the appearance of some other women whenever they go out. I don't even want to think what they do in the bedroom." She watched the fake Fleur try to explain things to an increasingly agitated Gabi. "I better go help clear this up." Ginny stalked over, intent on preventing a scene – her brother certainly wouldn't. He was enjoying himself too much, the perv.
Harry was just considering going to help extricate Gabi as well when Ron came up, an Auror shadowing him from a distance. "Harry, good to see you! How is politics treating the the rising light of the Wizengamot?"
Harry rolled his eyes, "says the youngest Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic this century." Harry still didn't quite understand how that had happened. Sometime during the time that he was hiding out on the continent, Ron had developed ambition and a work ethic. Harry credited his father. Or maybe being in a life or death battle had finally shaken some sense into the slacker, and forced him to rethink his priorities. "To get a seat on the Wizengamot, you just need to inherit it." Though his was the Black seat, which Sirius had gifted to him (sort of).
"I am still surprised that you gave up on being an Auror. I thought that was your dream career." Despite what Neville thought, Ron had never been very close with Harry back in school, and they had drifted apart even more afterwards. Now, despite both working at the Ministry, they hadn't had an actual conversation in years.
"Nah, you're thinking of Neville. Me.. I went to Auror Academy because I didn't have any other plans and I wanted to help people, but I soon realized that it wasn't for me. I decided I wanted to fix problems before they became problems."
"That sounds more like Hermione than you."
"Yeah, I guess some of her attitude rubbed off on me. We used to work pretty closely together in Hogwarts, back before she went all psycho."
Ron raised an eyebrow at that, but all he said was. "Yeah, I know what you mean – even back in school she was temperamental: Some days she was really nice, and others she would flip out on me for no reason. Though I thought you were still working with her, on the Muggle rights bills."
"We were. And then she started on pushing her anti-Persian agenda." Ron's description of Hermione was spot on, though in Ron's case it was because she had had a massive crush on him and he had been too dense to realize it. Or he pretended to be, in order to take advantage of her help with his homework. "Maybe you're right, and she's just a little unstable. Whatever the case, she's been making my life miserable lately."
Harry was getting ready to complain some more about his favorite bete noir when Ron's eyes glazed over, "Oh, what's going on over there?" He quickly interrupted. He didn't need more soap opera in his life – he already had Lavender.
Harry glanced to where Ron was pointing: it was Bill and Tonks (now looking like herself), surrounded by a miffed looking Gabrielle and several spectators. But it looked like things had gotten resolved peacefully, though, with Tonks apologizing for borrowing a shape without permission.
"Sorry, sorry," Bill added sheepishly. "Nymph's an Auror, and this is part of her training for keeping a foreign shape for an extended time."
Ron gave an amused snort at the byplay – he was used to his brothers shenanigans - and turned back to Harry, "But back to the topic of the Persian wizards – I fully approve. The Ministry doesn't have much say on the Wizengamot, but if you need any help, just ask."
"Thanks." There was a pause before Harry continued, "You know, it's your wedding. Why are you working? Shouldn't you be with your bride-to-be?"
"Oh, no. It's bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding. And I like talking shop." Ron smiled self deprecatingly.
Harry shrugged. 'Wedding rituals are weird'. Not that he would ever need to know them. 'I guess this is Ron's way of dealing with nerves. It's a sight better than running around screaming.' Harry wasn't certain if Ron used to do that back in Hogwarts, but it vaguely seemed right. "One thing that I would like 'handled', on the hush-hush, is the murders in Blackburn. If word gets out about those, they will end up splashed across the front page of the Prophet for weeks." His father had been telling him about his investigation - there had been two women killed. They could be the work of a run-o-the-mill serial killer, but Harry was worried that they were honor killings. (Despite what Hermione claimed, Harry was aware off the flaws of the Persian Wizarding culture). That would turn all of Wizarding England against the refugees, just because of one or two idiots.
"I'll see what I can do," Ron smiled and shook Harry's hand one more time before heading over to the next guest.
\*/
"James, do you have a minute?" Sirius poked his head into the Chief Auror's office. It was the week after the Weasley wedding / special guard detail, so work was back to normal. "I need to go on a call, and some hard-ass passed a regulation that Aurors always have to go in pairs."
James, as the hard-ass in question, snorted in amusement. "Take Longbottom." He jerked his thumb at the junior Auror who had just dropped off another stack of papers. "I have a ton of paperwork – at this rate I'm going to have a headache by the time I get home." If he got home. 'I'm going to be old and gray before I finish all this crap'. He wished he could go, but he wasn't a kid anymore – he was going to do the responsible thing and catch up on the (overdue) reports.
"Where's the call from?" Asked junior Auror Longbottom as they rushed down to the apparation room.
"Blackburn, where we've had that rash of murders. We just got a call from an elderly Iraqi woman saying that she heard screams." The Weasley wedding was still front page news, so there was hope that they could settle this without a media circus.
Neville nodded as he checked to make sure that his wand was easily accessible. "It must be pretty bad – let's hurry." What went unsaid was that the immigrant population in Blackburn almost never called the Aurors. These killings must be really scaring them.
The two apparated behind an older three story brownstone and ran around to the front door (Even though this was a magical neighborhood, it still made sense to apparate in out of sight).
"Are you ok, old man?" Neville asked as he took the steps two at a time.
"Yeah, I just did something to my back last week."
"At work or in bed?" Neville smirked as he alohomora'ed the door of the apartment building and went straight up to the third floor.
Sirius gave him an evil eye, "I'll assume that you intended that to mean with a lady friend, and that you aren't implying that I'm old."
Neville chuckled. Before he could say anything more they arrived at their floor. As soon as they stepped out of the stairwell, a door cracked open and an older women leaned out enough to point at the doorway way across the hall. "That one," she spoke in a heavily accented English.
"You take point," Sirius stepped back to let his junior take over.
Neville nodded and went to open the door while Sirius trailed along behind, keeping an eye on the neighboring apartments. 'We should have brought a bigger team – there are too many ways out'. Sirius pulled out a portable anti-apparation ward out, just in case.
"Aurors, open up!" Neville waited for a response. When there was none, he Alohomora'ed the door. He wasn't supposed to go in without a warrant, but immigrants never knew that. "Sirius, Apparition!" Neville dropped down to a knee and raised his wand.
Sirius had already slammed the anti-apparation ward to the wall of the apartment, but it wasn't enough as there was the over-loud crack of somebody apparating away in a hurry, possible splinched, as they powered their way through the ward.
"These cheap ministry issue wards are too damn weak!" Neville swore as he pushed the door all the way open to reveal a small studio apartment, with blood sprayed everywhere and a young woman laying in ritual circle. 'Too slow!' There was nobody else in the room.
As Neville crouched over the victim, Sirius peeled off the ward and cast a trace on the apparation. "I'm going after that son of a bitch."
The trace lead to an empty back alley. Once there, Sirius cast another trace, and with the tip of his wand glowing slightly, he paced out the length of the trash filled lane, looking for it to respond. He finally got another hit, right at the mouth, where it emptied out onto a muggle street. He was further delayed by the need to disillusion himself so that passersby wouldn't see him magically vanishing before he could apparate out, this time out to Diagon Alley. But by then it had been 15 minutes, and there was no longer any way to tell which way the suspect had gone.
\*/
Neville examined the murder scene – the woman was quite dead. She had been disemboweled like the others, but this was the first time they had found one in situ – the other three were all discovered dumped in the woods outside of town.
Sirius apparated back in, "I lost the trail – whoever it was knew how to evade pursuit."
"Yeah, this isn't the work of just some deranged sicko. I'm going to call in an expert from the the Department of Mysteries." Neville pointed to the paper on the floor, laying on top of the blood spatter.
It was an Islamist pamphlet with what looked like ritual instructions scribbled on the back, though in English.
"This looks like the work of a new Dark Lord."
\*/
On Sunday, Harry and the Longbottoms dropped by for dinner with his parents. They tried to get together weekly, but with everybody's busy schedules, it rarely happened more than once a month. As soon as the food disappeared, so did Lily and Daphne, into the other room to go through the the baby items that Lily had been collecting through her network of friends for her daughter-in-law.
"So, how's work?" Harry asked Neville, "Dad says that you're working on the Blackburn case again." Neville hadn't gone into much detail over dinner, so as not to upset Daphne – she had developed a delicate stomach during her pregnancy, and discussions of violence bothered her.
"It looks pretty bad," Neville explained what had happened. "The Department of Mysteries reviewed the notes that we found, and they report that it's part of a ritual to create a magical 'demesnes'. Given the crazy Muslim literature scattered about the the apartment I'm guessing that the perpetrator wanted to carve out a piece of England to create a magical Islamist enclave."
"But why the murders? I mean, I can't imagine that our forebearers had to resort to human sacrifice to create Wizarding England."
"You'd be surprised by what people considered normal back a thousand years ago," James shrugged. He'd become jaded with human nature, working at the DMLE.
"No, I actually asked the witch from the DoM that exact same question, and she said that the normal way to creates a demesnes takes decades of living on the same land. This guy was just in a big rush, and was trying to short-circuit all of that."
Harry slumped down in his dinner chair as he struggled to digest this (not the dinner – that was good). "Uh. This is such a mess."
"It's just what Hermione has been warning about for the past six months, ever since all the refugees from Iraq started streaming in."
"Actually, she's been going on about it for over a year. She just used to be more willing to work within the system about it. Six months ago she decided to do an end run around me." Harry sighed and rubbed at his face as he sat back up. "This is actually far worse than what she was envisioning."
"Can they actually pull it off?" James asked. "I mean, it's just one ritual."
Neville shrugged self consciously. He hadn't asked the witch from the DoM about that – it wasn't directly related to the investigation, and he hadn't been that interested in the political angle. Though given who his brother was, maybe he should have been.
"I don't know. Do you have a copy of the spell?"
Neville gave another awkward shrug, "It's evidence.." he cut his eyes sideways at his father.
"Give him a copy," James grumbled.
Neville had come prepared for that answer, as he pulled a folded over piece of parchment from his pocket.
Harry pored over it for several minutes, scribbling notes on a napkin with a ball point pen that he stole from Lily's kitchen tools drawer. While he wasn't a master at it, he was no slouch when it came to Arithmancy (his instructors at the Auror Academy had been bemused – it was the first time that they could remember a recruit with an Arithmancy NEWT, much less an 'Exceeds Expectations')
But after five minutes of calculations he tossed down the pen and leaned back. "I don't know. I'm going to have to take this to an expert."
Neville smirked. The only expert that Harry knew was Hermione.
"Did the neighbors have anything to say about the person who lived in the apartment?" James asked.
"I wasn't able to get much – hardly any of them speak English. I mostly ended up interviewing the one old woman who had called it in. She said that the apartment belonged to a young man, and that he was quiet and kept to himself – she had only seen him once or twice - and that he was religious."
"Were most of the people in the building magical?" James knew what questions to ask.
"Yeah, but the rest didn't seem that religious – I mean I spoke (or tried to speak) to several women, and they didn't wear any of that Muslim clothing stuff." Neville looked uncomfortable with all this discussion of religion – like most English wizards, the extent of his religious practice was going to Christmas dinner with family. Which was actually a prayerful event on those years that they joined the Dursly-Blewitts. As in Neville prayed for it to be over. (It turns out that the full name of 'Jack the Dull', aka 'Jack from Accounting' had been Jack Blewitt)
"Hows Dudley doing?" Neville changed the subject, stream of consciousness style, "Mom says he knocked up a girl?"
"No, it was just a scare – his ex called Petunia and gave her an earful, but it turns out that it was just a mean prank."
"Why does he keep going out with those skanks? He should give Becky another try." Harry shook his head at his cousins antics. Dudley was the sort that peaked in high school. After that, everything was a slow slide down hill (which included his belly, as he didn't have time for boxing anymore).
Neville snorted, "Maybe you should give Hermione another try."
Harry rolled his eyes. "Yeah, right. I'm 0-2 on that, and neither time lasted more than 24 hours."
"That was in Hogwarts." Neville protested. He was happily married and he wanted to share that happiness with his brother, but with that stupid marriage contract the only person Harry could marry was Hermione.
James didn't say anything, but he completely supported Neville's attempt. From what he had seen, that Granger girl was a decent young woman, But Harry didn't even dignify that comment with a reply, just shaking his head instead.
\*/
Harry strolled down the Hogwarts grounds. With it being summer, the whole school was deserted, or at least it felt that way. No doubt there were still a handful of professors squirreled away in their offices, doing research or finishing up some paperwork or something. But none were out here, on the far side of the quidditch pitch.
'This is new.' Harry had visited several times since graduating, but this was the first time he came all the way back here, where the Care of Magical Creatures classes typically met. Harry remembered those fondly, despite many of them being outside in the middle of winter. But now there was a two story building attached to a small paddock. Harry made his way over, peering in cautiously. (If nothing else, Hagrid had taught him to be careful when magical animals were involved). The first floor had a pair of stalls and a large open space for working. "Huh." Harry was just about to leave and see if Hagrid was down in his hut when the man himself came stumping down the rough plank stairs.
"Harry! Its wonderful ta see ya. How are you doing? How are you enjoying being an Auror?"
Harry scratched the back of his head sheepishly, embarrassed at not having visited Hagrid until now. "I' m not an Auror anymore – I am a member of the Wizengamot." Harry caught the half-giant up on his doings. "And how are you?"
"Not too bad. The ol' hip acts up when it rains, but other than that I'm good. I'm putting together a new curriculum for the wee ones," Hagrid leaned in conspiratorially, to let Harry in on a secret. "The younger students find some of the magical creatures a little intimidating, so I figure we should start them off with something less, ah, 'scary'" He made some air quotes – it was clear that he expected the students to outgrow their irrational phobia of lethal, man-eating monsters. "Like demi-crups."
"Ah, demi-crups. Of course." Harry had no idea what a demi-crup was, but it couldn't be worse than the blast-ended skrewts his fourth year. Though the Hippogriff in third year was pretty cool. And safe, as long as you weren't an idiot (or a Malfoy) and followed Hagrid's instructions to the letter.
Ok, so maybe updating the curriculum was a good idea. "That sounds great. And you even built a barn for them."
"Ah, no – this is for the fifth years, so they can learn how to care for (and ride) a Thestral. I came up with the idea for that after I saw how much your friends loved them. I remember that they even took them for a ride one evening.
Harry's smile turned into a rictus as he recalled Neville's less then glowing retelling of flying to London on a creature that he couldn't see.
"I'm about done here. Why don't you come down to my hut and have a cuppa? I can introduce you to my Griselda – she's Fang's daughter."
Harry sighed and glanced at his watch, "I'm sorry Hagrid, maybe another time, but I am supposed to be meeting with Hermione."
"That's right, She was your classmate. She is a professor now. I always knew she was a smart girl!" Hagrid grinned like a proud grand-pa.
\*/
"Knock, knock?" Harry called out as he walked up behind Hermione. She had her work spread out all over three tables in the Library, which was empty save for her.
Hermione whirled around, annoyed at being disturbed during her work. Between prepping for the following school year and her advocacy work, she only had a few precious weeks in summer to get any real research done. But once she saw it was Harry, her face lit up, "Harry! It's great to see you! Let me put this away and we can go into Hogsmeade for a cup of coffee!"
Harry was somewhat nonplussed by the warm greeting. He had been expecting something more acrimonious, given their recent exchanges on the Wizengamot floor (and the fact that he hadn't visited socially in months). "Umm, this is actually work related…"
Hermione's expression chilled, "If this is about the Persian question, you know my position." She focused on cleaning up her papers, not looking at Harry. "While I appreciate what you are trying to do with the refugees (and I think it shows your kindness and altruism), we need to focus on one thing at a time, and letting in a large number of extremely old fashioned, blood purist wizards into England will undermine everything we have been working on for Muggle rights. It just isn't the time.."
"Hermione, time-out!" Harry held up his hands in a 'T' "I'm not here to rehash that same argument. This is something new." Harry pulled out a copy of the notes that Neville had given him. "The Aurors found this ritual next to a woman who had been used as a sacrifice. I was hoping you could tell me what it would do."
Hermione gave Harry a skeptical look. "Didn't the DoM already tell them what the ritual was for?" This was starting to sound like a thin excuse to come visit. Which on the one hand, Hermione approved of. But on the other, she frowned on this sort of self-deception. 'If he wants to patch things up, he should just come out and say so, instead of making up excuses and masking his intentions behind a facade of business!'
"They explained what it should do. I want to know what it actually will do."
Hermione sighed and sat back down, pulling over a notebook to scribble in as she started reading over the ritual. Harry pulled up a chair and sat down on the other side of the table. As Hermione did her calculations, he peered over at the materials she had been researching previously. "Marriage rituals?" He asked in surprise.
Hermione looked up at the interruption, "That's what my Masters research was on, actually. Specifically, generation-skipping magically enforced marriage contracts, and how they are generated."
"And what have you discovered?"
"Harry, do you want to make small talk, or do you want me to finish with this?"
Harry smirked, "I have full faith in your abilities to both at once." It was odd how easy it was to fall back into old patterns of interaction with Hermione despite everything. Maybe it was because she never left Hogwarts.
"Oh? In that case, let's go get that coffee. Because I will have you know that I can also drink coffee while solving the world's problems." With a brisk wave of her wand, all of the loose papers sorted themselves into a satchel that then promptly shrank down to the size of a purse. "And what I have discovered is that most wizards don't have a bloody clue how generation skipping magical marriage contracts work. I have read a dozen solid theories, but not only do they all contradict each other but at some point they all get hand-wavy about 'subconscious intent' or 'complementation of origin' or something, without any Arithmancy to back it up. At all!" Hermione fumed. She hated sloppy work. And the worst part was that all the writers were (irrationally) convinced that these contracts actually did work, without the unhappily-married couple trying to murder each other 2-3 years down the line.
"How is Gabrielle doing?" Hermione changed the subjects as they walked out of the castle.
"How do you know about that? Are you spying on me?"
"Harry, you forget that Dumbledore was my role model. I make it my business to know everything that is going on."
"So yes, you were spying."
Hermione blushed slightly, "Ginny came over for dinner after Ron's wedding. We chatted."
"Actually, I'm surprised that you weren't invited to that. I know Ron was always pretty dense, but I thought he invited everybody on the planet who he knew."
"I did get an invitation, but I just didn't go." Hermione replied as her pace increased, "I don't want to have anything to do with Ron anymore." She pace became more aggressive.
"He has changed a lot since school." Harry added agreeably. Neville still didn't like Ron either, but from his perspective Ron's change was for the better. Sure he was a little standoffish, but at least he had stopped acting like an entitled prat (the few times that they had interacted).
"I know, better than most. He's almost a different person. But that doesn't make him any less of a berk. He's still a user, and anybody who gets too close gets sucked into his orbit and sucked dry. I'm not risking having that happen again. It's not worth my sanity."
Hermione glance up in surprise us Harry reached out to rub her back awkwardly with one hand. "You don't need to do that. I've made my peace with my past."
\*/
Voldemort continued drawing the circle with the woman's blood as her gasped breathing became weaker and weaker. As soon as the ritual inscription was complete, he lit a pair of tallow candles and started chanting the spell in badly accented Persian.