Harry Potter belongs to JKR.
Beta by FedererRex
Chapter 8
Harry jumped over a low tripping jinx and barely broke stride, focusing on Ron's pale calves in front of him and increasing pace to try and catch up a bit. This was their second long run of the day, and for the first time, Mackenzie had taken to making it more challenging by giving them a time limit and forcing them to dodge the odd jinx or barrier.
"C'mon Weasley, Potter's gaining on you," Mackenzie said from in front of them and about 5 feet in the air, flying backwards stride a Cleansweep.
Harry had just about drawn even with Ron when Mackenzie levelled his wand at them again.
"Aguamenti," he said, and a gush of water soaked both trainees.
"This is a good method of slowing someone down or dispersing a crowd without actually hurting anyone, by the way," Mackenzie said, keeping the stream of water up as he leaned back on his broom.
The heavy gush threw off Harry's breathing and obscured his vision, not that he needed to see very well when he was running in a straight line.
"Go, sprint to the finish!" Mackenzie shouted, varying the force of the water to come at them in waves, attempting to knock them off balance.
Harry kicked up his heels and forced his legs to pump faster. He lost out to Ron's longer stride, but the two finished within a second of each other.
"Now hit the targets!" Mackenzie said, ending the water charm.
Harry looked to his left to see a pair of floating orange circles fifty feet away. He dropped to one knee, braced his wand arm with his left hand, held his breath for a second, and fired a stinging hex at the one on the right. Both circles turned green with a *ding* sound as Ron instinctively took the target on the left. Harry released his breath, waiting for the next command.
"Okay, that's good enough for two weeks," Mackenzie said, descending to the ground and dismounting, "you're free until Monday at 0600 sharp, when we'll meet at the entrance to the track."
Harry gulped down a few breaths, hands on knees.
"Will the others be back by then sir?" Ron asked.
"Yes, they'll have finished sometime tonight, and will probably all be back here by Sunday evening. It might be a good idea to meet them then, at least get acquainted, before training starts again on Monday morning," Mackenzie replied.
The other four members of their trainee group, whose beds still lay empty in the barracks, had been on a ten-day long survival training exercise, which Harry and Ron were exempt from because 'Dawlish figured if you could evade essentially the entire country for the better part of a year, through winter, that was good enough for him.'
Fortunately or unfortunately, this meant Mackenzie had been free to devote almost all his time to training (torturing) the two of them exclusively, and had even kept them through their first weekend. On the plus side, just the day before, Harry found for the first time he wasn't completely exhausted by the gruelling and repetitive exercises. Mackenzie had only duelled each of them once so far, on their second day, and deemed both of them 'good enough for now'. Since then, it had been a non-stop series of obstacle courses, drills, sprints, and core strengthening exercises, broken up by meals, spellwork drills, and stealth instruction. Every spare waking moment that wasn't consumed by eating or exercises was devoted to reading and studying the massive amount of information they were expected to cram into their heads. Having caught his breath a bit, Harry began airing out his robes with a drying charm.
"How are we doing for our first two weeks sir, any advice?" he asked as the hot air made the soggy fabric flap a bit and droplets of water sprayed onto the track.
"You're behind the others, but that's to be expected. After all, they've been through their NEWTs and have been at this for over two years already," Mackenzie replied, "still, you're both well ahead of where nearly any other wizard would be after just two weeks. My suggestion is to take tomorrow off physically, but get some studying in, minimum twenty minutes, but not more than an hour."
Harry puffed up and smiled a bit at the praise. He nodded, while Ron gave a heavy sigh, presumably at the thought of studying even more.
Harry nudged Ron with his elbow.
"We'll study together, it won't be so bad," he said.
The two of them showered and changed before heading back through the floo to Grimmauld Place, Harry managing to only stumble slightly upon exiting the fireplace.
"Kreacher," Harry said, and the ancient elf appeared with a soft pop.
"Master Harry calls Kreacher," the ancient house elf said.
"Pull something together for dinner for myself and Ron please," Harry said.
"Kreacher hears and obeys," Kreacher replied with a bow, apparating away with another soft pop.
The sound of pots and pans echoed from the kitchen as Harry checked the floor by the front door to find a pair of letters there, slipped in through the mail slot. As he picked them up, he recognized Hermione's perfectly slanted script on the envelope addressed to Ron, while his heart skipped a beat as he saw his own name in Ginny's familiar scrawl. He returned to the main living room to find Ron with his head stuck through the floo, and waited until he finished his call.
"All set for dinner tomorrow night at home," Ron said as he pulled his head from the fireplace.
"Excellent," Harry said, "I might need to borrow Pig tomorrow."
Ron nodded, sitting down on the couch.
"Thanks," he said as Harry passed the letter to him.
"Tonks residence," Harry said, tossing in a handful of floo powder.
He knelt down and stuck his head into the green flames. With an odd disjointed sensation, he felt his vision and body stretch and compress across the floo network until he saw a vague greenish outline of Andromeda Tonks' cozy cottage appear, facing the living room couch.
"Mrs. Tonks?" he whispered.
"Harry?" Andromeda whispered, stepping into view wearing a dark robe and stocking feet, carrying Teddy, and rocking him gently, "shh, he's just fallen asleep."
Harry nodded.
"I've tomorrow off, would it be alright if I stopped by in the morning?" he asked.
"Certainly," she whispered, "we're up early, drop by anytime."
"Brilliant, good night," he said, withdrawing his head from the fireplace.
"I'm going to see Teddy tomorrow morning," Harry said, "what have you got on?"
"I'm going to sleep, until I wake up," Ron said, flipping a letter page over, "then I'll head over early, spend some time with my parents and George, think about doing some reading."
Kreacher appeared in the room with a soft pop.
"Master Harry, dinner is served," he said.
"Thank you Kreacher," Harry said.
Harry and Ron sat down to a dinner of roast lamb, baked potato, carrots, beans, and gravy, once again enjoying the fine china left behind by Sirius' family. Ron finally finished Hermione's letter between bites.
"Anything interesting?" Harry asked.
"The snakes are outcasts now. It's obvious Hermione feels bad for them," Ron said, mouth half-full of potato, "I almost do too. Almost. She's started on the research, and she's not doing much else. She tries to explain a bit of the Arithmancy here, but it's like Gobbledegook to me. We're also missing out on the 'best' Defence professor, for what that's worth. She goes on about him for half a page."
Harry smiled. Hogwarts.
"I almost wish I was back there, be a 'normal' student for once, play quidditch, go to Hogsmeade on the weekends, support Hermione," Harry said.
"Shag my girlfriend," he thought.
Harry shook his head.
"I know what you mean mate," Ron said, "it aches like hell but even I know this is best. Can you imagine if I end up distracting her and this potion-charm thing doesn't work…"
Harry grimaced.
"I mean… I know she would make time to spend with us, so just us being there would be a distraction and even if she didn't spend time with us, she'd feel bad and then spend time thinking about how she wasn't spending time with us, which would also be distracting," Ron said, "at least this way she can focus."
Harry scrunched up his eyebrows for a moment trying to sort through the verbal confetti Ron had just spewed all over him.
"It's only for a few months mate," Harry said, "just until Christmas hols, that's what I keep telling myself. Let's try and get through this training as quick as possible, then maybe we can make it up there for a Hogsmeade weekend or two. It'd be good to see Neville, too."
Ron nodded, and they ate in silence after that, Ron deep in thought and Harry itching to open up Ginny's letter but not wanting to do so in front of her brother.
"Anyway, I'm a bit tired, see you tomorrow around four at the Burrow?" Harry said, "we can get some studying done ahead of dinner."
Ron nodded.
"Night Harry," he said.
Harry waved as he left the kitchen and headed for the stairs. Finally, Harry closed the door to the master bedroom and spread Ginny's letter out on the small writing desk in the corner of the room, opposite the massive bed.
Dear Harry,
How's training going?
It's interesting here, there was a duel in the hallway on the first day of classes! Most of the Slytherins didn't come back this year, and there are only two first year snakes. They're all being bullied pretty badly despite what the professors do to try and promote inter-house unity. Hopefully it gets better soon because if it doesn't, someone is going to get seriously hurt. Don't worry about me though, I can take care of myself. Plus, everyone knows I'm your girlfriend and Hermione's friend and our new roommate is pretty good with a wand too, so nobody even looks at us funny. Sometimes people see us coming and just get out of our way! It makes that little voice in the back of my head smug but I promise I won't let it get to me.
I really miss you! Quidditch tryouts are tomorrow and we have a lot of open spots, especially without you and Ron (thanks again for lending me the Firebolt, I put up with the jokes about riding your broom because they're all true), but hopefully we can put a good squad together. Once the schedule is finalised, I'll send it to you. Try to get some free time to come for a match or two!
It's difficult being back here after what happened in May, especially when I walk through the corridor where Fred died, but in a way, I think it's healing as well. It still hurts to think about and I think it always will, but little by little it gets easier to deal with.
Enough about that, did you know Neville is apprenticed to Sprout? He seems to love it and I think he's got the makings of a good professor in him, once he gets a bit older than the students that is.
…I really really really miss you Harry. I think about you all the time, often at night before I go to sleep, and sometimes in the morning if I have time before class. And sometimes between classes if I have the room to myself. Sometimes I wonder if you're thinking about me at the same time, and that thought warms me up from head to toe. I can't wait to see you again.
Love Always,
Ginny
PS Hermione is really stressing out. I think she'll be okay but I'll keep an eye on her and let you know if it gets serious.
Harry put the letter down.
Fuck.
The thought of his redheaded girlfriend completely naked and writhing about on her four-poster, touching herself while thinking of him made him want to go have a wank right then and there. As he locked the letter in a drawer undressed for bed, he realized there was absolutely no way he was going to be able to sleep. Harry locked the door (just in case), lay back on the sheets, and let his hands drift down below his waistband. It didn't take long, barely more than a minute and he shuddered a few times and was finished. After vanishing the mess, he set his mind to figuring out a way to spirit his girlfriend away to Grimmauld for a few hours, perhaps during a Hogsmeade weekend. He had a half-decent working plan before he drifted off to dreams of falling asleep with Ginny in his arms again.
The next morning, Harry awoke before the sun rose as he had every day for the past week and a half. It took him a moment to remember where he was, then he lay down and went back to sleep for another hour before waking again up to the smell of bacon and the sun streaming in almost horizontally through cracks in the heavy, dark curtains. Harry pulled on jeans and a t-shirt and made his way to the dining room, where Kreacher busied himself with a frying pan almost larger than he was. Wearing a miniature-sized white chef's apron and hat, the elderly house elf stood on tiptoe and deposited the last of the bacon on the second of two plates.
"Thank you Kreacher, it smells delicious," Harry said, sitting down at one of the place settings.
"Kreacher lives to serve the noble house of Black," Kreacher replied.
The elf bowed low, nose almost touching the ground, and apparated out, presumably back to the kitchen. Harry ate slowly, relishing the luxury of being able to savour his food as opposed to having to wolf it down as quickly as possible before the next drill started.
By the time he'd finished the eggs, bacon, toast, and orange juice, Ron still hadn't made an appearance. Harry's muscles protested a bit as he stood, but thankfully he wasn't too sore. He renewed the featherlight charm on the backpack holding his Auror textbooks and pulled on a green light jacket. He considered whether to leave his holster and carry his wand in a pocket like he usually did, but seeing as he was an Auror trainee now, figured he'd better get used to it. He stripped off the jacket and pulled on the holster strap, secured his wand before concealing it again beneath the outerwear, then flooed over to the Tonks'.
Harry arrived in a cloud of soot and stumbled to one knee, brushing off his clothing. Teddy lay on a brightly coloured padded mat in front of him wearing a green onesie and pushing himself up on two hands, looking about with silver-flecked eyes that matched Andromeda's. At the whoosh of the floo and Harry's sudden appearance, an expression of shock came over his cherubic features before he burst into tears. Andromeda Tonks, wearing a long brown and red floral skirt and a matching wool sweater, leaned over to pick him up.
"It's okay Teddy, it's just uncle Harry, see?" Andromeda said, holding Teddy upright.
Teddy sniffed a few times and burbled incoherently, but his hair changed colour to Harry's jet black. All was right with the world again.
"Good morning Andromeda," Harry said, "did he sleep well last night?"
"Morning to you too Harry," Andromeda said, "only woke up once for a bottle, then went right back to sleep. Have you eaten? We usually go for a walk in the mornings, at the park just down the road."
Harry nodded.
"As long as it's not a 5K run with stinging hexes if I go too slow," Harry said.
Andromeda chuckled and passed Teddy to him while she pulled on a pair of brown boots. Harry held Teddy under the arms for a moment, then switched him to the crook of his elbow.
"You're a natural Harry," Andromeda said, pulling out the blue buggy from near the door and folding the hood back. Harry passed Teddy back to her, then opened and held the front door while she settled him in with a blanket and a stuffed griffin. Outside the cottage, the world was silent, white, and grey with chill morning fog. Andromeda locked the door with a click and eased the buggy down the steps to the paved path, her boots tapping smartly on the stones as she walked. Harry felt his hair quickly growing damp as they descended the slight grade of the winding path through the forest, and he lost sight of the cottage in the trees and thick fog after only a hundred feet. A narrow road appeared in front of them and they crossed to the walking path on the opposite side and turned right.
"There are a few families along this road, their children are older though. They won't be at the park until a bit later," Andromeda said.
Harry nodded, groping for something to say, but nothing came to mind so they walked in silence through the dense fog. The forest gave way to a cleared area on their right, and they crossed the road again and onto an asphalt footpath. The fog was a bit lighter here, enough to see open fields begging to be run through. A few trees good for climbing dotted the area, and they passed a small jungle gym complete with swings and slides. Everything seemed eerily forlorn with the fog shrouding the area, almost like they were in their own little world. The forest inside the park was thinner in places with several fields dotted only by a single large tree here and there. Picnic benches had been placed at regular interviews, to allow passerby to sit and take in the scenery.
"It's about a mile around, a good walk," Andromeda said.
"This is a nice place," Harry said, looking around, "it'll be perfect when he's older. We can let him run around and tire himself out, once he learns he can't just change his looks around muggles that is."
The path led around the grassy area, and they occasionally passed running trails leading off into the woods. The sun had just started to burn through the fog when Harry spotted a silhouette walking in the opposite direction, which turned from a vague darker shape into a man wearing a light brown trenchcoat and carrying a flashbulb camera that looked like it came straight out the 1930's.
Andromeda grumbled.
"That'll be Graham Winfield again," she murmured to Harry, "he works for the Prophet. He's popped up every two or three days, hoping to catch you, I imagine."
"Oh Mr. Potter, what a pleasant surprise," Winfield said. Harry thought he looked familiar, then he hit on where he'd seen him before: Rita Skeeter's new photographer from Kings Cross. Looking at him closer now, Harry could see he was in his later thirties or early forties with brown scruff on his face. His crown sported a hat which looked like a cross between a beret and something an old-fashioned news boy would wear, pushed back from his forehead so it didn't affect his photography.
The photographer lifted up his camera and took a photo with a bright flash that reflected off the fog all around them. Teddy gave a little whine of concern at the commotion.
"Do you mind, I'm trying to have a walk with my godson," Harry said.
"Oh is that little Edward Lupin?" Winfield asked, "would you mind holding him for a photo? Our readers would love to see the family man side of you Mr. Potter."
"I would mind, thank you very much," Harry said. He gritted his teeth and forced his annoyance down. He wanted nothing better than to wipe the knowing grin off Winfield's face but he couldn't let the man provoke him; that would only make things worse.
"Bugger off Winfield," Andromeda said.
"It's a public park, Mrs. Tonks," Winfield replied, "I've just as much a right to be here as you."
The two of them started to argue, but Harry was distracted. He thought he'd heard a soft pop nearby, like apparition. He heard rather than saw a spell coming at them through the woods to their right, branches snapping in its wake. Harry shoved Andromeda to the ground and purposefully fell in the opposite direction, and a jet of blue passed between them and grazed Winfield on the arm.
"Ow! Merlin, what was that?" the photographer shouted, sitting down on his behind and clutching the wound with one hand. Harry reached into his jacket and whipped his wand out of its holster.
"Protego," he said, throwing up the most powerful shield he could to protect the buggy, holding it steady as he got to his feet.
"Homenum revelio," Andromeda said, sweeping her wand side to side, "there's only one, about forty feet away, that way!"
A fog shrouded form leaned out from behind a tree trunk and unleashed another jet of blue light, a reductor curse, which ricocheted off a tree with a bang, scattering bits of bark.
"Mrs. Tonks, protect Teddy," Harry said, "Reducto!"
The trunk the attacker was using for cover exploded in a shower of wood, causing the entire tree to groan and fall to the ground. Leaves scattered and fluttered through the air. The attacker, Harry was almost certain it was a man, walked haltingly forward through the woods, wand twisting and snapping off cutting hexes, bludgeoning curses, and stunning spells, and Harry was forced to use a shield to deflect or absorb most of them to make sure nothing got through to Andromeda and Teddy. A flash went off behind Harry, and dimly he realized Winfield was taking photographs instead of helping.
Harry growled in frustration at the idiocy of the man. He side-stepped a spell aimed at his head rather than shielding to give himself an opening.
"Diffindo," he said, aiming high with a lateral swish, slicing through several branches and causing them to fall on their attacker, who didn't even try to get out of the way.
Harry took advantage of the distraction by firing a wordless leg-locker jinx which hit his attacker dead centre, causing him to topple over, much like the tree had done.
"Confringo," the man said from the ground, and Harry used a wordless protego, focused near the tip of his wand with a flourish, to deflect the potent blasting curse up into the air with a ringing *ping* that made his entire arm vibrate.
"Incarcerous, Expelliarmus, Stupefy," Harry said, forcing his wand arm to move through the pain, quickly binding, disarming, and stunning the immobile attacker and then catching his wand as it sailed end over end through the air.
Another flash went off just as his hand closed around the bit of wood, and Harry spun with a wand in each hand, ready to continue fighting. He held off as he saw Andromeda had already moved between him and Winfield, one fist clenched by her hip and the other holding her wand outstretched towards the photographer's face.
"Take another photograph Winfield, I dare you. I've always wanted to try out some of the more interesting curses from my old family's library," Andromeda said, voice cold and deadly and her wand twisting to accent her point.
The photographer looked like he might call her bluff, but then apparently decided his paycheck only went so far.
"Who is that?" he asked, motioning towards the trees.
Harry turned on his heel and strode to the edge of the woods.
"Wingardium Leviosa," he said with a swish and flick, levitating the bound and unconscious form of their attacker through the forest to them as Winfield moved to stand next to him.
The attacker looked young and a bit stocky, and wore a muggle ski mask to conceal his identity. Harry pulled off the mask to reveal the sandy coloured hair and familiar features of someone he knew quite well.
"Is that Seamus Finnigan, your former roommate at Hogwarts?" Winfield asked, camera drifting towards his face.
"Yeah, but he must be under the Imperius," Harry said, using a single finger to force the camera down again, "Seamus is my friend."
Harry looked over at Winfield and saw the upper sleeve of his trenchcoat stained red.
"You're bleeding a bit," Harry said.
"Oh," Winfield said, poking at the cut for a few seconds, "it's just a flesh wound."
The reporter started putting a bit of pressure on his shoulder to staunch the bleeding.
"What's more important is why would anyone imperius one of your friends and attack you here?" he asked, "Do you have any theories, Mr. Potter?"
Andromeda stepped forward, moved Winfield's hand from his shoulder, and waved her wand a few times over the cut, patching it up almost instantly.
Winfield's eyebrows shot up and his mouth dropped open at the freely offered healing.
"Thank you, Mrs. Tonks," he said.
"You're welcome, Winfield," she said, "stop being such an arse."
A few theories swam through Harry's head, one of which was Winfield doing the deed himself to get a few good photographs and an exciting story. Hopefully Seamus would be willing to fill in some of the blanks.
"I have a few ideas," Harry replied, "you'll need to come down to the Ministry to make a statement. For now, we need to get out of here; it's too exposed. Andromeda, I'll meet you at the cottage. Are you okay to side-along with Teddy?"
Andromeda nodded and lifted the baby from the buggy, then Harry shrank it with a wordless reducio and picked it up.
"Winfield, I suggest you get out of here too, go somewhere public, like Diagon," Harry said.
Winfield looked around at the park again and nodded, immediately apparating out with a loud crack, fog swirling in his wake.
"We go together," Harry said, putting a hand on Seamus, "three, two, one."
They both turned and popped back to the cottage, which looked much the same as when they left it. The fog in this part of the forest had now nearly completely burned off, and the sun streamed through green and yellow leaves, leaving mottled patterns on the ground. Harry watched carefully as Andromeda unlocked the door and held it open for Harry to move Seamus inside, sealing them all behind the building's wards when she locked the door again.
"You're sure he's your friend?" Andromeda asked, looking down at Seamus' unconscious form.
"Absolutely," Harry replied, "I hope I didn't hurt him. Maybe whoever sent him hoped I would, or vice-versa."
He looked up at Andromeda.
"I think you and Teddy should stay behind the wards as much as you can, until this is sorted out," Harry said.
Andromeda nodded.
"I agree," she said, "I don't want to think about whoever sent him waiting and watching every day for the past who knows how long. Or even worse, what if they weren't and we got lucky today and you happened to be here."
Harry nodded.
"Hopefully when Seamus wakes up, he can tell us what happened," Harry said, "I've got to get him to St. Mungo's, maybe they can help, and then I have to report this to the DMLE."
Andromeda nodded.
"You go, we'll be fine here," she said, unshrinking the buggy with a few swirls of her wand.
Harry tossed a handful of powder into the fireplace.
"St. Mungo's," he said, then levitated Seamus' body through, before stepping through himself.
The reception room bustled with visitors and patients waiting to be seen. A small child, perhaps seven or eight years of age, with misshapen bloody feathered wings sprouting from his back, cried and his mother tried to console him in vain. One of the other visitors, a dark-haired man perhaps thirty years old, sang an off-key rendition of some Scottish folk song, in Gaelic, apparently completely unable to stop as he kept making apologetic motions to those near him.
Harry walked up to the plump blond witch sitting behind a counter, beneath a sign marked 'Reception', towing a floating unconscious Seamus behind him.
"Harry Potter, checking in Seamus Finnigan, likely under the Imperius curse," Harry said.
The blonde witch pressed a button on a small box in front of her, which gave out a soft belching noise as it spit out a pin with the word 'Visitor' emblazoned in bold blue letters on the front.
"Level four," she said, handing the visitor pin to Harry, who affixed it to his jacket.
Having been there several times before, Harry knew exactly where to go. He levitated Seamus left of the reception counter, dodged the singing patient, entered a large lift, and pressed the button for Level 4, Spell Damage. The doors opened to a much quieter reception area with shiny white floors, and Harry went right past the front desk to a triage area with over a dozen wheeled cots, each with blue hanging privacy curtains surrounding them. A central station held several healers and nurses scribbling notes and sending parchment flying to other rooms or floors. Harry pressed a button on a small box near the entrance, and a slip of paper with the words 'Bed 15' appeared, again with a soft belching sound. Harry levitated Seamus to the correct cot and lay him down on it, still keeping him tied up. Since there weren't many patients in the ward at the moment, a healer came over almost immediately. Her long black hair was tied back in a ponytail, and her deeply tanned skin contrasted sharply with her white lab coat. Most odd were the green tinted silver spectacles she wore. The name tag on her left breast pocket identified her as Jr. Healer Yarr, and she carried a clipboard and parchment in one hand, and a quill in the other.
"Mr. Potter, to what do we owe the pleasure?" she asked.
"My friend Seamus, I think he's been put under the Imperius," Harry said, "he attacked me and a few others just now, out of nowhere."
The healer hmmed and cast a few diagnostic spells, her wand waving in fluid motions over Seamus' head and abdomen. She stopped and pressed her wand onto a crevice on the bed and restraints sprung out to bind Seamus's arms, legs, chest, and forehead tight to the mattress.
"You can release him, I'm going to wake him up and take a closer look," she said, "step behind the curtain so he can't see you, if you please, Mr. Potter."
"Finite," Harry said, cancelling his binding spell and with a sound of metal hooks sliding through the ceiling runners, drew the dark blue curtain in front of himself.
"Rennervate," Yarr said.
Harry heard Seamus gasp as the spell forcibly woke him up.
"What happened?" Seamus asked, "where am I?"
"Hi Seamus," Yarr said, "you're at St. Mungo's, and my name is Junior Healer Laura Yarr. You were in an accident. How do you feel?"
"Err," Seamus said, "a bit bruised, actually."
There was the sound of a little bit of struggle against the restraints that held Seamus.
"Why am I tied down?" he asked.
"We'll get to that in a minute," Yarr said, "what's the last thing you remember, Seamus?"
It was quiet for a moment while Seamus thought.
"Err, I'd eaten breakfast with me mam, and went for a morning run," he said, "ahh, I remember leavin', but not comin' back."
There was silence, followed by the sound of a scratching quill.
"What do you think of Harry Potter?" Yarr asked.
"He was my roommate at Hogwarts, friend of mine, good bloke to be around when he wasn't bein' hunted by Death Eaters or off savin' the world from You-Know-Who, why?" Seamus asked.
The healer pulled back the curtain to reveal Harry, and Seamus' expression went from recognition to hostile in an instant. He struggled against the restraints and glared at Harry, gritting his teeth and growling like a wild dog or wolf.
"Come on Seamus, fight it," Harry said quietly, but Seamus only pulled harder. The skin on his arms began to turn red from chafing and he showed no sign of letting up.
"Somnium," Yarr said, instantly putting Seamus to sleep.
"It's almost certainly the Imperius curse," Yarr said, "unfortunately there's no known way to break the spell until it weakens enough over time and he fights it off himself. We'll have to keep him here until then, just in case he's been given other instructions."
Harry nodded.
She paused for a second and frowned, placing a hand on his forearm.
"I'm sorry this happened to you Mr. Potter, if anyone deserves some peace and quiet, it's you," she said.
Harry shook his head.
"Peace and quiet sounds nice, maybe one day," he said.
The healer nodded and made a few more notes.
"We'll contact you if there's any change in his condition," she said, "and we'll notify his family he's here as well."
"Thank you," Harry said, giving Seamus one last glance as he left the ward.
He made his way back down to the first floor where the singing patient was still going, though he sounded much hoarser than when Harry had entered.
"Ministry of Magic," Harry said, tossing powder into the fireplace and stepping through.
He strode quickly through the Atrium, all but deserted on Sunday morning, and nearly went to submit his wand for inspection before remembering his status as an Auror Trainee meant he could keep it. He changed direction and took the lift to level 2.
Auror headquarters was nearly deserted as well, except for a few cubicles still lit by the overhead globes. He wasn't exactly sure where to go to report the use of an Unforgivable, but then he saw the light streaming from the office at the end of the hall. If ever there was a time to take advantage of his fame, this was it. He walked straight past the cubicles to Dawlish's office and knocked on the doorframe.
"Sir?" he said, peering inside, but the office was empty. A deserted coffee mug sat on the cluttered desk, with a neat round spot next to it where a pot might fit. Perhaps Dawlish had gone for a refill?
Harry stepped into office and looked around, his attention drawn to the moving black and white photographs on the bulletin board to his left. Several of them had a bright red 'X' through them, and Harry understood that to mean they'd been caught or killed. He recognized some of the remaining individuals, Death Eaters still at large. They were arranged in some kind of organization, with Augustus Rookwood at the top. Beneath him were Avery, Mulciber, and Travers, and off to one side were Alecto Carrow, and Rastaban and Rodolphus Lestrange.
"Potter? What are you doing here, I thought Mackenzie gave you the day," Dawlish asked from the door, a fresh pot of coffee in one hand.
"I was attacked," Harry said, "and it's going to be all over this evening's Prophet."
"Attacked? When, how?" Dawlish asked, moving behind his desk and pouring another cup.
"I was out with Andromeda Tonks and Teddy Lupin, my godson," Harry said, shaking his head when Dawlish offered him a coffee, "a reporter from the Prophet was bothering me for an interview when were ambushed by… by my friend Seamus, he's at St. Mungo's now. Someone put him under the Imperius."
"Nobody was injured?" Dawlish asked.
"Not really," Harry replied, "the reporter, Winfield I think his name was, took a graze from a cutter, but Mrs. Tonks healed it up. Oh, I dropped a tree branch on Seamus; he's fine, physically anyway."
"Alright, I'll arrange for a press release," Dawlish said, stifling a yawn and rubbing his jaw, "at least we can keep the papers satisfied for the time being."
"Now or never," Harry thought.
"Sir, could we have some protection for Mrs. Tonks and Teddy?" Harry asked, "whoever is behind this is still out there and I'm worried they might try again."
Dawlish sighed and shook his head.
"Sorry Potter, we're understaffed as it is, and it almost seems like everyone knows it and wants to take advantage," Dawlish said, "crime is through the roof, we've all got our hands full just making sure looting and feuds don't lead to outright riots or murder at the same time as we're supposed to be rooting out the rest of Voldemort's inner circle. Do you have any idea who was behind it?"
Harry gestured to the corkboard of Death Eaters.
"Take your pick," he said, "so we're just going to leave them exposed?"
"Maybe we could send a warder over to make sure they'll hold up long enough for us to get there," he said, "but that's the best I can do."
Harry nodded and Dawlish paused for a moment in thought.
"Harry, have you used a pensieve before?" Dawlish asked.
"Yes," Harry replied, "Dumbledore had one in his office."
"I'd like to view the memory of the attack, if you're willing," Dawlish said, "do you know how to extract it?"
Harry nodded and pulled out his wand, bringing the memory of the morning's attack to the front of his mind while Dawlish opened a hidden panel on the wall behind his desk to reveal a familiar looking rune covered stone bowl. He slid the stone pensieve out on a pair of rails as Harry finished pulling out the silvery thread containing his memory. Harry drifted his wand over the bowl and let the thread sink into the mist. Dawlish nodded and the two of them plunged headfirst into the misty memory.
It started as they approached Winfield.
"Good reflexes," Dawlish said as Harry dodged the surprise attack from the forest, "and good cover of the baby."
They watched through the memory until Harry won the skirmish and caught Seamus' wand.
"Stop," Dawlish said, "there, after the duel, when you turn around to face Winfield, and Mrs. Tonks is threatening him."
The memory backed up a few seconds and then started again. Dawlish pointed up above Andromeda and Winfield.
"I don't see anything except fog," Harry said.
"Exactly," Dawlish said, "look at the fog."
Harry watched the memory again, and just as he turned in response to Winfield's camera flash, he saw what Dawlish had noticed. A bit of the fog curling about, almost like the wake of a boat. Something invisible was moving through the air about ten feet above Andromeda and Winfield as they argued.
"I'd bet your future salary that whoever put the Imperius on your friend stayed to watch their handiwork, disillusioned, on a broom perhaps," Dawlish said, replaying the memory again and studying the telltale curl of fog.
"Shit," Harry breathed, "they were right there, and we had no idea. They could have done anything, why didn't they?"
Dawlish shook his head.
"Orders maybe," he said, "hard to say."
The memory ended and the pair found themselves back in Dawlish's office. Harry fished the memory out of the bowl and pressed it back into his head. His skin crawled with the knowledge of how close he and Teddy had been to an unknown enemy.
"I'd feel better if that warder could get over there today, sir," Harry said, his voice shaking ever so slightly.
"I agree," Dawlish said.
He scrounged around his desk for a piece of parchment, scribbled a note on it, signed it, then tapped it twice with his wand. It folded itself into an airplane and went flying off, turning right outside the door.
"I've authorised blood wards and given it top priority," he said, "now you need to go fill out an incident report, Auror Trainee Potter. They're in the DMLE proper, opposite side of the lifts."
Harry nodded.
"Thank you sir," Harry said.
Dawlish nodded and went back to reading through the open report at the top of the pile of folders and parchment on his desk while Harry exited his office and walked towards the lift. His thoughts turned to Andromeda and Teddy though. He could fill out an incident report after the warder showed up, but until then, they were almost totally exposed. Lost in thought and concern, Harry almost didn't notice the bald, slightly overweight figure of Captain Robards on his way in.
"Potter? What are you doing here, brown-nosing already?" Robards asked.
Harry took a moment to register the insult.
"What's your problem with me, Robards?" Harry asked, glaring up at the taller man.
"What's your problem, Captain," Robards corrected, "and I'll tell you exactly my problem, if you can avoid attempting your completely inept legilimency this time."
Robards paused a moment, perhaps he was waiting for Harry to apologize? If he was, he'd be waiting for a while.
"How did someone like you defeat You-Know-Who?" Robards asked, "any of the marked Death Eaters are a match for a fully trained Auror, some even two or three, and the Dark Lord himself was leagues above them. Only Dumbledore ever duelled him to a standstill."
Robards sneered down at Harry.
"Then along you come, a kid still in school, 'The Chosen One'. Duelled Voldemort in front of a crowd of people and defeated him easily. Then two weeks ago you lost to me, just as easily. You tell me now Potter, could I have taken the Dark Lord, even on his worst day?"
Robards' face steadily grew redder as he spoke, until with the last sentence a bit of spittle flew from his mouth as he pointed to his chest and then to Harry. Harry found himself shaking his head unconsciously. Robards was experienced and well-trained for sure, but Voldemort and Dumbledore were at an entirely different level, as far beyond either of them as they were beyond a third-year student.
"Then how, Potter?" Robards asked, as if he already knew the answer, "if you can't even stand up to a single Auror, how could you have duelled the Dark Lord in single combat and won?"
"I...I can't tell you," Harry replied, shaking his head.
The horcruxes and the Deathly Hallows were not common knowledge. Only a select few knew about them, less than a handful, and if the secrets were to get out, it could have huge repercussions as people went looking to find them or attempted to repeat Riddle's path to immortality.
Robards straightened his shoulders.
"Something doesn't smell right, Potter. I don't think you're as squeaky clean as the Minister makes you out to be. Sooner or later, you'll slip up, and when you do, I'll be there," he said.
The Harry was at a loss for words as Robards walked past him and into one of the offices lining the wall. He kicked at the rug as he exited the Auror Headquarters and made his way to the lift.
Harry flooed back to the Tonks' directly from the Ministry to find Teddy being pushed around the living room in his buggy by Andromeda. She held a finger to her lips in a shushing motion, and Harry stepped quietly over to the buggy to see Teddy fast asleep inside, sucking his thumb. Andromeda levitated the buggy up the steps while Harry waited in the living room alone, nervously fingering his wand. After a minute, Andromeda returned downstairs.
"Hello Harry," Andromeda said quietly, "everything alright?"
Harry nodded and sighed.
"Tea?" she asked.
"Yes, please," Harry said, following her into the kitchen.
The small kitchen was homely but tastefully decorated. A stove and oven sat against one wall, along with a fridge and microwave oven. A window with cheery yellow curtains looked over the sink and into the forest in back of the cottage. A black back door sat shut near a counter and cupboards, facing the thick forest behind the cottage.
Harry sat down at the wooden table and pulled out a pair of sickles while Andromeda busied herself with the tea.
"Listen, Andromeda," Harry said, "I found something important when I looked at the memory of the attack in a Pensieve. There was someone else there, disillusioned, probably on a broom."
Andromeda paused while making the tea before continuing.
"I'm not leaving the cottage," she said.
Harry shook his head.
"No, I wouldn't ask that," Harry said, "Head Auror Dawlish is sending over a warder to add blood wards, hopefully today."
Andromeda nodded.
"What do you think they wanted, whoever was disillusioned?" she asked, bringing over a pair of saucers with hot water and biscuits.
"I'm not sure, but I want you to be able to contact me if something happens, if you need help. A patronus can be tricky to pull off, so…" he said.
Harry ran a hand through his hair, leaving it just as messy as before.
"When I was at Hogwarts, a friend of mine used a Protean Charm to enchant some coins. When one of them was transfigured with a message, the others heated up and showed the same message," he said, "I'm pretty sure I can pull it off on a single coin, and then if you're in trouble, if you can't get away, you can transfigure a short message onto it, and I'll be here with the Aurors as quickly as I can."
Andromeda let her tea steep for a moment before blowing on it softly and taking a sip.
"Alright Harry, for your peace of mind," she said, "blood wards are powerful. I honestly think the existing wards would give me plenty of time to apparate away with Teddy if someone tries to break through them, but if it lets you sleep easier at night…"
She smiled at him. Harry was suddenly struck by how beautiful she still could be when the weight of her losses and heavy responsibilities weren't crushing her.
He spent several hours charming the sickles while Andromeda made sandwiches for lunch. It was harder than it looked and he had to mentally give credit to Hermione for figuring it out and placing it on so many coins for the DA, three years ago now. On the first try he'd over done the heating charm and burned a black circle into the table. The second try didn't work at all, but the third try was the charm, so to speak.
Andromeda transfigured the sickle to change the wording around the edge, and Harry's heated up and mirrored the change.
"Brilliant," Harry said, glancing over at the clock mounted on the wall. He was supposed to be at Ron's in fifteen minutes.
They tested the sickles a few more times to make sure they worked properly, and Harry was about to send a patronus to Ron letting him know he couldn't make it to dinner when there was a knock at the front door.
Harry got up first and drew his wand.
"Stay behind me," he said, moving to the front door.
He checked the peephole and spied a short, bald elderly man with mostly white hair about the sides of his head, wearing spectacles and dark robes, and carrying a brown leather briefcase.
"I think it's the warder," Harry said.
He cracked open the door.
"Ah, good afternoon Mr. Potter," the bald man said, his moustache twitching as he spoke, "I'm Mr. Winters, of Wards and Walls Inc."
Harry opened the door wider.
"Thank you Mr. Winters, for coming over on such short notice," Harry said, shaking the slight man's hand as he entered.
Winters waved him away.
"All in a day's work. Ah, this must be Mrs. Tonks, pleasure to meet you," Winters said.
He bowed and kissed her knuckles, drawing a tight smile from her.
"I understand you're fearing an attack? Blood wards would be safest, but you'll have to admit those who are allowed through individually by having them submit a sample before they'll be able to get into the house without dropping the wards," he said, "and you'll need to apply for the license from the Ministry within thirty days."
"Thank you, Mr. Winters, I think standard blood wards will do nicely," Andromeda replied.
"I'll need to place the anchors for the wards," Winters said, "We try to make them as unobtrusive as possible."
The little man withdrew several dark coloured rune covered ellipsoid stones from his briefcase and laid them on the coffee table. He then picked up a pair and started wandering about the cottage, tapping on walls and floors with his wand. Harry and Andromeda followed him around as he placed stones about the house. As he did so, each stone sank into the wall or floor it was placed against until it was almost flush against the surface, only displaying a single rune out of the dozen or so which were carved onto them. Finally, after nearly an hour, he looked satisfied.
"This one is the anchor stone," Winters said, pointing to a stone embedded in the centre of the first floor, "you can activate or deactivate the wards by pressing your finger onto this rune here."
He pointed at the rune without actually touching it himself. Andromeda seemed to be familiar with how the wards worked because she simply nodded.
"Thank you, Mr. Winters," she said.
"Now all we need is a drop of blood from anyone who should be able to pass through," he said.
"Just myself and Harry," Andromeda said, "Teddy is napping, I'll do his later."
"Just a single drop will do, right on the stone," Winters said, handing each of them a small piece of metal which looked a bit like an arrowhead. Andromeda quickly stabbed it into the middle finger of her left hand and squeezed out a drop onto the anchor stone. Harry looked at the arrowhead tool for a moment before following suit, pricking the pad of his finger with it. It hurt, but not as bad as he'd expected. He squeezed out a single drop of blood, which clung to his finger before dropping onto the ward stone. The crimson liquid splashed neatly in the centre of the dark stone, then sank in, almost as if consumed or absorbed.
"Episky," Harry said, pointing his wand at his fingertip and sealing the tiny wound up nicely. Andromeda wordlessly healed hers with a wave of her hand.
"And that's that," Winters said, snapping his briefcase shut and picking it up.
"Thank you again Mr. Winters, for coming over on short notice," Harry said.
"I'll send the invoice via owl," Winters said, "discounted due to the request from the DMLE, of course."
Harry shook hands with Winters again as the frail man stepped out the front door while Andromeda waved from the living room.
Once he was gone, Andromeda pressed the rune on the anchor stone to activate the wards. She looked around and nodded in satisfaction.
"Are they working?" Harry asked.
"You should be able to feel them," Andromeda said.
Harry concentrated for a moment, and he thought he felt slightly safer, and warmer, but it could have just been his mind playing tricks on him.
"I'm not sure," he said.
"They're working," Andromeda said.
Harry nodded.
The clock chimed from the kitchen.
"Thanks for lunch, Andromeda," Harry said, "but now I have to report this to the Ministry."
He paused for a moment, looking at the older woman.
"Harry, we'll be safe," she said.
"I know it just… it seems like it isn't enough," Harry said, "maybe I'm turning a bit paranoid, but I've never had something… someone so important and so vulnerable to protect before."
Andromeda gave a shaky sigh as her silvery eyes grew a bit glassy.
"I know Harry. I know how it feels," she said, "but you still have responsibilities, and Teddy, and myself, we'll both be safer once you take care of them."
Harry nodded.
"Right," he said, "right."
He felt like he should reach out to Andromeda, but she didn't really seem like the type to accept physical displays of affection, but he still felt he had to do something.
"I wish I could have saved them," he whispered, blinking as his own vision starting to blur, then he quickly turned back to the fireplace and tossed a handful of powder in.
"Ministry of Magic," he said, and the flames roared and turned green.
Harry slung his bag over his shoulder and turned at the last moment to see Andromeda hugging herself about the waist looking for all the world like she was refusing to admit she was on the verge of tears.
"Thank you Andromeda," he said, stepping through the floo.
On his third trip through the Atrium for the day, Harry paused for a moment by the reflecting pool to calm down a bit, then took the lift back up to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Turning away from the Auror HQ, he headed to the DMLE proper. There, he was greeted by a waiting room with dark blue carpeting and white ceiling. Several seats lined the back wall, all of them occupied with witches and wizards waiting to be called, and a row of wooden booths and glass windows faced the entrance. Only one of the booths was currently lit, and Harry stood in a queue for about ten minutes before he was able to approach. A bald middle-aged man wearing glasses of thick black frames looked up at him.
"Harry Potter, here to report an attack," he said.
"Fill out an incident report over there," the man said, pointing to Harry's right.
Harry spotted a desk and a cabinet of file drawers, each of them labelled with a different type of crime. Three people were already at the desk, scratching away with quills on parchment. The forms themselves ranged from theft of property, to trespassing, to assault, and a number of other common complaints.
Harry picked the general incident report and began filling it out. There were dozens of fields and he had to dip his quill a number of times before he was finished with the main form. Then he realized there was a supplemental form for injury, and another form for spells being cast in a muggle area, even though there were no witnesses. His stomach was grumbling again by the time he'd finished, piled everything into one stack, stood in line again, and slid it to the clerk beneath the glass window.
The man quickly leafed through the forms and paused on the main page.
"You're an Auror Trainee?" he asked.
"Yes," Harry replied.
The clerk sighed.
"You need to fill out the Auror report log forms, they're entirely different," the clerk said, "didn't they teach you that?"
"Err, it's only my second week," Harry said.
"Hang on, I'll get them for you," the clerk said, disappearing into a back room. He reappeared a moment later with a stack of parchment. Harry looked at the full inch high stack of parchment with dismay; he'd be here for at least another hour filling all of that in. There was nothing for it though; he knew once he returned to training, he probably wouldn't have the time, so he started with his name at the top again.
Over an hour later, with his hand cramping, he signed his name with a flourish at the bottom of the main form. The Auror incident reports had spaces for citations of the operating code, which Harry had struggled with, and he had to look some of them up in the textbooks he'd brought with him.
Finally, he queued again and turned the stack into the clerk, who leafed through the pages.
"Alright," he said, stamping the parchment, "here's your incident file number."
He passed a slip of paper to Harry with the day's date followed by a number 36, which Harry tucked into his jeans pocket. Wearily, he headed back down to the Atrium and to the floo fireplaces.
"The Burrow," he said as he tossed the floo powder and the fire to roared and turned green.
He arrived at the Weasleys' to a scene he thought he'd never see: Ron, sitting at the living room table alone with an open book and parchment in front of him, taking notes.
"There you are," Ron said, putting his quill down, "Mum! He's here!"
"Hello Harry!" Mrs. Weasley called from the kitchen, "Ron, go fetch your father from the shed please!"
Ron motioned to Harry with his head and Harry dropped his bag next to the table and followed Ron outside into the chill air of the deepening dusk. They walked around the Burrow to the shed where Mr. Weasley liked to tinker with his muggle contraptions.
"What happened mate, you were supposed to be here hours ago," Ron asked.
"We were attacked, which… really shouldn't surprise either of us by now," Harry replied, "someone put Seamus under the Imperius, he's in St. Mungo's now."
"What?" Ron said, clearly about to ask for more details.
"I'll tell everyone together," Harry said, "Andromeda and Teddy are fine though, and we had a blood ward specialist over there today to set up additional protection."
They arrived at the shed, light spilling out from under the door.
Ron knocked and opened the door.
"Dad, Harry's here, dinner," he said.
"Harry, come in, come in," Mr. Weasley said, "maybe you can help me with something."
Harry smiled tiredly and stepped into the shed. Hooks dotted the wooden walls at evenly spaced intervals, most of them with various muggle appliances or tools hanging from them. Two worktables sported partially disassembled microwave ovens, a motorcycle engine, and a television set, and several other bits of muggle technology Harry couldn't identify.
Mr. Weasley sat underneath a glowing ball of bright yellow light which almost imitated the sun and cast a warm, cosy glow all about the shed. In his hands he held an electric egg beater.
"I gather it's supposed to spin when I pull this trigger, but nothing happens," Mr. Weasley said, pulling on the switch with an audible clicking sound, "any idea what's wrong with it?"
Harry took a look at the egg beater, turned it over in his hands, and fiddled with the dials and buttons a bit.
"Perhaps it needs to be plugged in, or charged," Harry said, pointing to the small hole on the rear of the appliance.
"Ah, it only works with electric?" Mr. Weasley said, furrowing his brow and frowning.
"'Fraid so," Harry replied, handing it back.
"Well, something to figure out another time," Mr. Weasley said.
He placed the egg beater back on the workbench, doused the light, and led the way out of the shed. Once they were all out, he carefully charmed the door shut with a colloportus.
"It would be fantastic if we could figure a way to get magic and electric to work together," Mr. Weasley said as they hiked back to the house, "don't you think Harry?"
"It certainly would make life easier for muggleborns," Harry said.
"Would it really?" Ron said, "can't they just do everything they need to with magic?"
"Everything they need to I guess, but not everything they'd want to," Harry said, "erm…"
He pondered for a moment, looking for a way to put it that Ron would understand.
"Okay, imagine you moved to another country, and you couldn't watch the Cannons play there," Harry said, "instead, they have other sports that you're not really familiar with. In fact, you couldn't even get news about any quidditch at all except what you hear from us when we write. D'you think you'd miss it?"
Ron nodded.
"It's kind of the same thing with muggleborns and their whole life," Harry said.
Ron was quiet for a few seconds.
"I never really thought about it like that," Ron said, "d'you think that's how Hermione feels?"
Harry had no idea how to answer that question, loaded with implications as it was. Thankfully, he was spared having to when they arrived at the house and Mrs. Weasley met them at the front door.
"There you are, I was about to go out there myself," she said, "Arthur, you weren't badgering Harry about your muggle rubbish again, were you?"
"'Course not," Mr. Weasley replied, "just saying hello; we haven't spoken in weeks."
They moved to the dining table which was already set with a chicken roast, mashed potatoes, carrots, corn and gravy. The table felt abnormally large with just the four of them; they only occupied one end and the other remained bare and empty.
"Alright mate," Ron said, "everyone's here, what happened today?"
"Wait, where's George?" Harry asked.
"Oh, when he found out you were coming over for dinner, he left for the shop," Ron said, "err, good thing, I figure, at least he's out of the house for a change."
Harry nodded while Molly and Arthur traded glances and shifted uncomfortably. He'd have to address the issues George had with him at some point, but he couldn't do it until George was ready. As long as the rest of Ron and Ginny's family were supportive, he had other priorities.
"It started when Andromeda and I took Teddy for a walk at a muggle park nearby their house…"
Harry recounted the story of the attack on himself and Andromeda, meeting Graham Winfield the reporter, unmasking Seamus and bringing him to St. Mungo's, finding out about the additional flying and disillusioned individual in the Pensieve, and putting up the additional wards around the Tonks' house. He left out the bit about meeting Robards at Auror HQ; he figured he'd tell Ron about that later.
"And that's about it," he said, "also, the Ministry forms are…. insanely complicated."
Mr. Weasley smiled and shook his head, then nodded in silent commiseration.
"Blimey," Ron said, "d'you think Seamus will be okay?"
Harry nodded.
"He seemed normal enough when he couldn't see me," Harry said, "he just has to shake off the Imperius, and the healers at St. Mungo's are the best."
"I'm glad you're alright Harry," Mr. Weasley said, "although the fact someone else was there, observing, is concerning."
"You don't suppose it was all to get a good story for the Prophet, do you?" Ron asked.
Harry shook his head.
"I thought about that too, but it's too risky, even for Skeeter," Harry said, "eventually Seamus will be free of the Imperius, and hopefully then he'll be able to tell us who attacked him. The only people I could think who might do something like that are the ones who already have a life sentence in Azkaban… the ones still on the loose I mean."
A few seconds passed in silence as everyone chewed, consumed by their own thoughts.
"How's work, Arthur?" Molly asked, strategically breaking the silence and changing the subject.
"Very busy," Mr. Weasley replied, "we've had to let some people go and the new hires aren't quite up to speed yet. There's also the new legislation that's being proposed and debated at the Wizengamot, but we've reached a bit of an impasse on the werewolf and vampire rights."
He looked to Harry, but Harry already knew what he was going to say.
"Sorry Mr. Weasley, I still don't think I'm ready," Harry said, "until the rest of Riddle's followers are caught, I can't really think about anything else."
Mr. Weasley nodded.
"Much as the Wizengamot could use some fresh blood and a voice of reason, I think you've got the right of it," he replied, though from his expression, Harry wasn't quite sure if Mr. Weasley actually believed the words coming out of his own mouth, "you'll never get a moment's peace so long as You-Know-Who's radical blood purists are still skulking about."
"I'll be glad when all of them are finally locked up for good," Mrs. Weasley said.
"Cheers to that," Ron said.
They ate quietly for the rest of the meal, Harry and Ron telling Mr. and Mrs. Weasley about some of the exercises they'd been run through in the past week and a half. Harry took an extra helping of banana vanilla pudding when Mrs. Weasley brought it out; he'd take the home cooked food whenever he could get it. With bellies full, Ron and Harry made their way to the living room where Harry wrote a quick note to Ginny and added it to Ron's envelope before heading to the fireplace.
"We'll try to come back next Sunday mum," Ron said, "if Mackenzie lets us go."
Mrs. Weasley looked up at her son, pride practically gushing out of her ears.
"I know you'll do your best, Ronald," she said.
They said their goodbyes, and flooed to Auror Training Ground C.
"Wonder if the others are back yet," Ron said as they walked out of the shack to the sound of crickets chirping in the chilly darkness.
"Ron, there's something else happened today," Harry said quietly as they walked to the barracks, and Ron deliberately slowed his steps.
"I ran into Robards at HQ," Harry said, "found out at least part of why he doesn't like me. He's wondering how I defeated Riddle, when there's nothing really special about me."
Ron made a sound of protest.
"No mate, I'm pretty good with a wand, but Robards is right about one thing. I'm nowhere near where Dumbledore and Riddle were," Harry said, "thing is, I can't exactly tell him about the… you know what's, and he's absolutely convinced there's more to the story."
Ron nodded.
"Maybe you should talk to Kinglsey, have him tell Dawlish to get Robards to back off?" Ron asked.
Harry grimaced.
"I can't go running to Kingsley every time I've got a problem, he's spread too thin as it is," Harry replied, "besides, this probably isn't going to be the last time someone asks about this. I've got to figure out a decent explanation at some point."
They walked in silence for a moment.
"Tell him it was the Prophecy, and that you don't really know how it worked," Ron said, "see if he'll leave it alone after that."
Harry snorted.
"Maybe," Harry said.
They arrived at the barracks and for the first time, it wasn't unoccupied. Two young women, one blonde and one brunette, and a young blonde man sat on their trunks or at the foot of their beds, looking over as Harry and Ron entered. They were all a bit older than Ron and Harry, perhaps in their early twenties, and all of them were fit and trim, which made sense if Mackenzie had them on a training regime even remotely resembling what he'd been doing to Harry and Ron.
"And here they are," the man, about Ron's height with blonde hair and dark eyes said, "told you, pay up, Miller."
Miller, the blonde woman, dug around her pockets for some coins and grudgingly passed them over to the man.
"We were wondering when you'd be back," he continued, "my name's Shawn Davis, and this is Tammy Miller, and Elizabeth Moore."
Tammy had soft brown eyes and her blonde hair was cut short, just below her ears, and was the slightly taller of the two, while Elizabeth had long brown hair tied in a pair of braids which fell to the top of her chest, and wide blue eyes.
"Davis? Would you happen to know a Tracey Davis at Hogwarts?" Harry asked.
"Yeap, she's my little cousin," Shawn replied, "but aren't you going to introduce yourselves?"
"Oh, sorry, erm… I'm Harry Potter, and this is Ron Weasley," Harry said as Ron nodded next to him.
Davis snickered.
"I'm just havin' you on mate, we know who you are," he said, "come on in."
Harry smiled, walked over to his bed, and deposited his bag on it. He hadn't even been able to crack the books open even once today except to look up codes when filling out the Ministry forms. Perhaps that counted as revision?
"Miller, you're the Cannons fan?" Ron asked as he passed by her bed, surprise in his voice.
"Oh yes, are you?" Tammy asked.
"Am I a…, they're only the greatest team in quidditch history," Ron said, "the best thing about the Cannons though is the fanbase is the most loyal of any team of any sport in the world. Even though we've had a rough go the last few seasons, some of the prospects they've picked up in the recent drafts are showing real promise."
Tammy broke into a wide grin as Ron gravitated over to the poster, their conversation rapidly escalating to the point even Harry, as a quidditch player, had trouble following.
"And you were happy we had Potter and Weasley," Moore deadpanned to Davis, "you know how she gets, now it's going to be even worse."
"Look at the bright side Liz," Shawn said, "she won't be badgering us about it anymore."
As Harry, Shawn, and Elizabeth looked on, Ron gesticulated wildly, attempting to simulate a chaser manoeuvre with his hands, which was difficult because he only had two hands for three positions. Tammy shook her head and started her own chaser simulation, the two of them looking like they were completely mental.
"So Potter, you met Robards a fortnight ago," Davis said, "or rather, you met Robards' wand."
Harry shook his head.
"Is he like that with everyone?" Harry asked.
Shawn seemed to think about it for a second, but Elizabeth spoke up.
"No. Don't get me wrong, he's a jerk but he's usually not that bad. Did you say anything to piss him off?" Elizabeth asked.
"I might've… done something," Harry said, remembering the legilimency, "what's his story?"
Elizabeth and Shawn looked at each other.
"We're not entirely sure," Shawn said, "but you remember when Bones was killed, Thicknesse took over the DMLE?"
Harry nodded. He couldn't really forget.
"Robards' brother Gawain wanted to take the fight to Voldemort but Thicknesse disagreed, and both Robards' resigned and went into hiding," Davis said quietly, "only Lester Robards got through the war, but they both received awards."
"I heard they waged a two-man guerrilla campaign," Elizabeth said, "managed to kill two Death Eaters and few dozen Snatchers. I mean… so I've heard."
Their conversation was interrupted by the front door banging open to reveal a mountain of a man with short blonde hair and a rapidly receding hairline; he took up almost the entire door frame and radiated sheer physical power as he stepped into the barracks and gently closed the door behind him.
"Welcome back Matt," Shawn said, "the new guys are here."
"Potter and Weasley," Matt boomed, "Matt Wilson. Let me tell you, I'm glad it's you two and not whatever twits they're sending to the other teams."
His boots clumped as he walked to the centre of the room and held up a copy of the evening Prophet. On the front page under the blaring headline "HARRY POTTER ATTACKED!" was a pair of photos of Harry duelling through the woods and a close-up of him catching Seamus' wand.
"Couldn't wait to get started, eh Potter?" Matt said.
"This was today?" Shawn asked, snatching the paper and starting to read.
"Shawn, why are you reading the article when he's right here?" Tammy said, pointing at Harry.
Everyone looked at Harry, and he, once again, recounted the tale of the day's ambush.
"So, I have no idea why whoever was watching invisibly just left," Harry finished.
"Do you think it was a Death Eater?" Shawn asked.
Harry shrugged his shoulders.
"It's possible. Honestly I have no idea, and if it wasn't for Dawlish, I wouldn't even know someone else was there," Harry said.
"God, that's got to be frustrating," Elizabeth said, "and worrying."
"Extremely," Harry replied, nodding.
Matt clapped him on the back, nearly knocking him over. Harry looked up at Matt and gave him a half-grin. Then he squinted his eyes. Despite him having progressed significantly into baldness, he thought he recognized the well-built man.
"Hey, I know you, Wilson," Harry said, "did you go to Hogwarts?"
"Yeah, sure did," Matt replied, the smile fading from his face.
"You played quidditch, right, beater for Hufflepuff?" Harry asked.
"Yes," Matt replied, "Cedric was a good friend of mine."
Harry's mouth dropped open. The night in the graveyard. Cedric's body. Voldemort's resurrection.
"I'm… I'm sorry," Harry said.
Matt shook his head.
"I knew they were lying about you, Cedric said you were a good bloke," Matt said, "I'm just glad you finally killed that snake-faced fucker."
"Yeah, me too," Elizabeth said, "I had to quit the program last year and go into hiding."
"Muggleborn," she added, raising a hand, "so, thank you Harry."
"From me too, thank you Harry," Matt said.
"Uh guys, Weasley's here too you know," Shawn said, pointing at Ron.
"Yeah, I was going to say, Ron was pretty important too, right?" Tammy added.
"Um… yeah a bit," Ron said, cheeks colouring.
"Oi, I've got to know, did you really rob Gringotts and ride out on a dragon, or is that complete bollocks?" Shawn asked.
"Oh, yeah, that happened," Harry said, "wasn't very fun at the time."
"But, it worked out, so, in hindsight it was bloody awesome," Ron said.
"All except the bit about the goblins hating us for all time…" Harry muttered.
Shawn grinned.
"Goblins hate all of us by default, so no harm done," Shawn said, "The way I figure, if we can't get through these trials with two thirds of the Golden Trio on our team, we're pretty pathetic."
"Said the genius," Tammy said to Shawn before looking over to Harry and Ron.
"Shawn has the highest scores out of all of us," she added, "he barely even has to study, just flips through the books and he knows everything."
"Bloody hell," Ron said.
"Eh, it's not as good as it sounds, trust me," Shawn said completely unconvincingly.
"Okay you guys get acquainted, I'm gonna take a shower and then it's lights out, because you know Mackenzie is going to have our asses up at the butt crack of dawn, and I don't need him blasting ice chips up my arse again," Matt said, pulling out a towel, change of clothes, and soap from his trunk.
Harry, not really able to determine if Matt was joking or not, decided not to laugh and instead opened one of his textbooks to read a bit until lights out. At least he could get to some measure of the revision he'd wanted to. He was distracted for a moment by Ron and Tammy discussing quidditch again on the other side of the room. He glanced to his right to catch Elizabeth looking at him with her wide blue eyes. She smirked, inclined her head at Tammy and Ron, and gave him the most sarcastic eye roll he'd ever seen. Harry gave her a grin and went back to his book until Wilson came out in his pyjamas and killed the lights. Stripping off his shoes and jeans, he had trouble settling down at first as the events of the day kept him up a bit longer, but in the end, fatigue won out and he fell into a fitful sleep.