"Potter!"
Harry held back a smirk. Dawlish was pissed. Good.
Dawlish charged down the walkway between the desks of busy Aurors right towards Harry with a furious expression on his face. Harry stepped slightly to the side as Dawlish strode past him, giving him a disrespectful wave to follow him. Harry dutifully followed along as they made their way through the department.
The looks on the Aurors faces as they passed by was very telling as to what kind of man John Dawlish was. Most people kept their heads down, hoping to avoid his wrath. Others would look up and offer a soft smile or quiet greeting, none of which would be reciprocated. However, once Dawlish passed by them, Harry saw their annoyance and disgruntlement with their commanding officer.
Few men and women inspired confidence in others; it wasn't an easy thing to do after all. However, it was one of the things that Harry excelled in. John Dawlish, on the other hand, did not.
With his short demeanor and stern face, Dawlish was a man that few people looked to for guidance. He hated the spotlight, preferring to act as a diligent office worker than out in the field these days. He frequently skipped press conferences when he could, leaving those to other DMLE officials or his Senior Aurors. The Aurors beneath him respected him enough for his magical prowess—one didn't get to be the Head Auror without at least some talent—but he wasn't someone they sought to emulate.
If that was all he was, then Harry knew he could have continued his tenure under the man without pushing as hard as he was. But Dawlish was worse than just an ineffectual leader: he actively ignored the continued threat that certain families posed to the stability of magical society.
After the war, society didn't change enough. Sure, muggleborns gained some rights and protections, meager reparations were made, and assurances were made that the horrors of the war would never be repeated, but the root cause of the issues that led to the war were never addressed.
Pure-bloods still held tremendous sway within society and the government, and those who allied with the dark side haven't changed their ways. Harry knew that many still held bigoted beliefs and stowed away countless dark artefacts. Meetings were held between former Death Eater families, no doubt discussing the best way forward to achieve their malicious goals. And yet, nothing changed. Even when a pure-blood was caught fencing dark artefacts or committing petty crimes against muggles, Dawlish didn't always prosecute them to the fullest extent of the law.
It was disgusting, and many Aurors felt the same as Harry. The fact that Dawlish was not beloved among the men and women didn't help matters either.
So, Harry knew what he had to do. He would see the changes he knew were necessary enacted. If he had to take down Dawlish to do it, then so be it.
Dawlish forced his door open with a slash of his wand. It swung wide open, rattling as it crashed into the wall behind it. Harry slipped inside behind Dawlish, just in time to avoid the door smacking his face.
With a ferocious growl, Dawlish ripped a copy of the Daily Prophet off of his hands and forced it into Harry's hands. "Someone's out to sabotage me."
As expected, it was a copy of this morning's paper. The front image had Dawlish tripping and falling on a loop. "Sir?" Harry prompted.
"It wasn't my knee," Dawlish said mockingly. He let out a huff of frustration. "Sorry," he apologized for the slight, "but I was fine. It had to have been someone else. One of Amelia's men said he saw a flash of light near my shoes before I fell. Someone's trying to make me look like a fool."
Harry knew that this day would come. For the past few months, he'd slowly been making Dawlish look worse and worse in the public's eye. He was bound to catch on eventually, he just wished it wasn't so soon.
"Did you get a Pensieve memory from him?" Harry asked. Tonks was careful; Harry knew from personal experience as to just how sneaky her spellcasting could be—a sharp contrast from how clumsy she was as a person. She would have taken the proper precautions knowing that someone could have taken a Pensieve memory. Maybe if he played this right, he could spin it that Dawlish and the man were simply mistaken.
Harry grimaced at Dawlish. "Did the memory show the flash of the spell at all?"
"The memory didn't show anything," Dawlish grumbled. "The man only caught the flash of light out of the corner of his eye; he didn't actually see anyone cast a spell. The area around me was blurry in the footage, but the man swore that he hadn't tampered with the memory. I even checked him myself for any signs of mental tampering, but there was nothing. Someone must have done something to obscure themselves from sight in people's memories."
So Tonks had protected herself. Well, that certainly helped.
Given the spell she used, there was no sense in denying the fact that something unusual went on. The obscured memory was enough to signify that someone had done something that they wished to remain unseen. Magic like that was rare, and known to few people around the world.
Much as he disliked Dawlish, the man wasn't a complete fool. He could be clever and analytical when it came down to it. He knew that someone was coming after him; he just didn't have all of the clues that would point him towards who did it yet. But he'd be twice as wary now about any future attempts like this.
Harry knew he had to be careful. The time for blatant actions like yesterday was over. Now, he had to play the slow, subtle game.
"That is terribly suspicious," Harry muttered. "Someone intervened directly like this. Question is, are they after you or the Auror department as a whole?"
"Or the Ministry," Dawlish pointed out.
"Or the Ministry," Harry nodded along. Good, Dawlish seemed uncertain about the whole account. "We've all been getting hit hard in the press lately."
"Yeah, but my ass is on the line now," Dawlish started pacing behind his desk. "Kingsley and the toads he keeps around him have been getting on my case. No more bad press." Dawlish snorted. "As though I can stop the press from writing whatever gibberish they want."
"So, we need to find out who is targeting you and the department," Harry said. "Should we get a team together?"
Dawlish stopped in place and glared down at the floor in thought. "No, not publicly at least. We've got no real leads yet, and I don't want paranoia to spread through the ranks if they find out what's going on. For now, lets leave this between you, me, and Proudfoot."
"Proudfoot?" Harry repeated in surprise. Proudfoot was one of the other Senior Aurors in the department. He was one of the best of all of them: a likable, powerful wizard who fought diligently against dark forces. Harry respected the man quite a bit, other than his tendency to follow orders from above unquestioningly. Proudfoot believed wholeheartedly in the chain of command, and that set him apart from Harry.
"Mhmm," Dawlish nodded, not noticing Harry's reaction. "I briefed him on this just minutes before you arrived. He's going to be investigating this independently, as I expect you to do as well. If you find anything, you should bring it to me."
If Proudfoot was investigating this too . . . Merlin, that would be tough. Proudfoot was the department's best investigator, the one everyone called for whenever there was a case that couldn't be cracked. Best-case scenario, he'd see this as a minor problem and leave it on the back-burner. Worst-case scenario, well, then Tonks—and, by extension, Harry—might be in trouble.
"But before you get started with any of that, I have a time-sensitive job for you," Dawlish said, interrupting Harry's thoughts.
Harry quickly snapped back into his professional mode. "Yes, sir. What is it?"
Dawlish grabbed a roll of parchment off his desk and tossed it to Harry. "We had an anonymous tip from someone who claimed that they spotted Corban Yaxley in Knockturn Alley yesterday."
Corban Yaxley, one of the few Death Eaters who escaped justice at the end of the war. He had been the man who put the Imperius Curse of Pius Thicknesse, the former Minister for Magic, and took over as the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He was one of the major players who had hunted down and targeted Muggle-borns. They had last spotted him nearly two years ago during a raid at an abandoned Crabbe manor that had been a hideout for quite a few of the remaining Death Eaters. It had been so frustrating to let him slip through their fingers like that.
"Apparently, this person spotted Yaxley drinking a Polyjuice Potion," Dawlish continued. "He transformed into a taller, black-haired man and went into the Briar's Thorn. I know we've had watchers on that nightclub for a few months since there's been a lot of chatter about it around Knockturn Alley, but if its true that Yaxley went in there, this may be proof enough that something shady is going on there."
Harry unfurled the roll of parchment Dawlish had tossed his way. It had all of the details of the job on it. "You want me to go in to the club openly? Not undercover?" Harry raised his eyebrows.
"That's right," Dawlish grunted. "I'm sending in a few others undercover. Hope is that your appearance will stir up the hornet's nest so to speak. You'll be going in tonight."
"Got it," Harry nodded, rolling the parchment back closed.
"Just try to live up to a party-boy persona and let the other Aurors keep a lookout for anything suspicious," Dawlish explained. "And try to find a woman to go with you. It'll be less suspicious than if you're all alone."
Harry already had the perfect person in mind.
The Department of Magical Transportation was a mess, as usual. Dozens of people roamed the narrow corridors as they were ushered around to the relevant offices. Harry navigated it with practiced ease, smoothly making his way towards the southern end of the level where the Broom Regulatory Control office lay.
A set of black doors opened at Harry's approach. It was quiet back here at this late hour in the afternoon. Few people needed to visit the Broom Regulatory Control Office; it was usually only manufacturers and sellers who sent documents by post here who occasionally turned up whenever there was something important to discuss.
The office was just a single, small, darkly-coloured room with a pair of matching desks and a doorway at the back to storage areas and the contraband room where any illegal brooms or other such types of magical transportation were housed until they were either released or destroyed pending Ministry hearings. The desk to Harry's left was vacant, but the right held a familiar face.
Parvati Patil, a fellow Gryffindor from his year, sat behind a desk looking lovely as always. She wore deep violet robes that showed off a modest amount of cleavage, upon which a silver necklace with the letter 'P' dangling from it sat, and her hair was done up nicely with a purple ribbon. Her eyes immediately rose as she spotted Harry entering the room and she flashed him a bright smile. "Harry!" She exclaimed in greeting.
Despite their terrible date at the Yule Ball, for which Harry had apologised profusely for, Parvati had become a good friend to Harry after the war. Parties were regularly held by the veterans of the battle a few times a year, so Harry got to know her a bit better than before. Other than being a friend, she also made for an excellent contact within the Department of Magical Transportation. She was just a lowly clerk but whenever Harry needed help with something, Parvati always came though for him.
"Parvati," Harry smiled back. As she stood up, Harry leaned over her desk to give her a big hug.
"Don't tell me you've brought more brooms with you," Parvati laughed. "Our containment room is getting a bit full after last week."
"No, no more brooms," Harry chuckled. "Actually, I was hoping to get one of them back from you. There was some concern back at the department that the brooms may have a latent dark curse lurking in them somewhere, so they wanted to see if I could get one back to take a look." he trailed off.
"Hmm," Parvati hummed. "Well, they are all locked up right now, and Mr Roberts is the one who's supposed to check anything out back to the DMLE . . ."
"Ah," Harry grimaced. "Don't worry about it then." He did his best to put on a crestfallen expression. If there was one thing he had learned about the veterans of the Battle of Hogwarts, it was that they didn't ever want to let him down.
"Is it really that important?" Parvati asked as Harry took a couple of steps back.
"Well," Harry said slowly, taking a moment to glance around the room again. Parvati followed his gaze and frowned. "Actually, Dawlish was the one who sent me. He really wants to make sure there aren't any more fucks up around the department anytime soon. I'm sure you saw the photo of him in the Prophet today."
Parvati giggled. "It was a pretty funny accident."
"Yeah, well," Harry let his smile at the situation creep out for a second before he recomposed himself. "He's been getting a lot of pressure from upstairs to make sure that there isn't anything else that can call his efficacy into question. He's really been getting on my ass to make sure the Aurors are in shape."
Parvati nodded her head. She tilted her head in thought, her nails absentmindedly tapping away on her desk. "How long does he need the broom for?"
"A couple of days probably," Harry reassured her. "Three at the most."
"Mr Roberts won't be sending them to be destroyed for another couple weeks," Parvati murmured under her breath. Her eyes flickered up to Harry's. "I guess I could slip you one. But, if Mr Roberts finds out-"
"I'll take the fall," Harry cut in. "I'll say I came in and took it myself when no one was around. You won't even be mentioned."
Parvati teetered back and forth on the decision for a moment. Harry could see that she wanted to do it, she just needed that extra little push.
"I'll owe you one," Harry chuckled awkwardly, letting a bit of his boyhood nervousness slip in to his tone. "If you ever need a favour from the DMLE or something from me . . . like dinner tonight at Le Bistrognome?" He gave her a slight smile, making Parvati's eyes widen in surprise.
"Yes!" Parvati leapt to her feet and rushed around her desk to throw her arms around Harry. "That'd be amazing! Do you really think you can get us in there?"
Harry laughed as he hugged Parvati back. "I know so. Eloise, the owner, has been begging me to visit her restaurant for over a year now after I helped her out on a case. I'm sure I could get the two of us in no problem."
"Thank you, Harry!" Parvati squealed in delight as she released him. She twirled around to her chair behind the desk. "I honestly can't wait! I'll have to get home soon to start getting ready."
Harry nodded along. Then, he dangled the hook. "What do you say we make a whole night out of it? After dinner, we could go visit the Briar's Thorn."
Parvati's eyes lit up. "Even better! Lavender and Padma and I loved it when we went a couple weeks back. Oh, this is going to be so much fun!"
Perfect. A dinner date before a night out at the club would be the perfect cover for going in. Hopefully, if Yaxley or any other malevolent people were in the club, Harry's alibi would be solid enough that they wouldn't get too suspicious at his appearance there.
"But first . . ." Parvati snatched a key off of her desk and walked over to the door that led to the backrooms. She disappeared within for just a minute before coming back out with a broomstick floating behind her.
"You're a lifesaver, Parvati," Harry beamed at her.
Parvati blushed lightly under his gaze as she passed over the broom. "Don't mention it."
With the broom secured, Harry said his goodbyes and walked back out of the office. Things were smoothly, much more smoothly than he had anticipated.
Now, if only there was a way to make this whole operation successful enough to capture Yaxley while also blowing up in Dawlish's face.
A/N: Hey, thanks for reading! I will be steadily reuploading all of my content from AO3 until both sites have the same content on it. If you are interested in reading more or supporting me, check out at p atreon .com(slash) ashox
