Harry Potter and the Aevum of Eternity

by Thundercracker-TC

The survivors of the second wizarding war suffer the scars of Voldemort's reign as they struggle to pick up the pieces of their lives. Harry is spread thin across multiple responsibilities as he and Ron join the Aurors, where new challenges and mysteries await. Not all is as it seems though, and powerful forces lurk in the darkness, biding their time... Cover art by a.heesher

31. Chapter 31

Harry Potter belongs to JKR

Beta by FedererEx

Chapter 31

"Happy birthday, to you!" Harry sang. He hoped he was on key. A black-haired Teddy Lupin looked around from his high chair as a single candle sat embedded in a small vanilla cake, just out of reach of his chubby arms.

"Make a wish," Andromeda said as she pulled the cake a little closer to him, "now blow." Teddy burbled something as Harry and Andromeda both helped him blow out the candle. Ginny clapped her hands and smiled as a small wisp of smoke curled up from the wick.

"All right, let's get this served," Andromeda said as she pulled a large knife from a wooden block on the sideboard. From the look of the kitchen, you would never know the cottage had been partially destroyed. Rebuilt almost exactly as it was before except with brighter furniture, the only difference was the additional padding glued onto the corners of tables and chairs, thanks to Teddy's increased mobility.

"Thank you," Harry said as he received the largest slice and a fork. Andromeda cut slightly smaller slices for herself and Ginny, while Teddy received a plastic bowl with only small pieces. He picked them up quickly, mashed his fist into them and giggled as bits of the sweet icing splattered his cheeks and one managed to land in his mouth.

"Can't believe how quickly he's grown," Harry said.

"The days are long but the years are short," Andromeda said, "he's just about walking on his own."

Harry glanced to Ginny, who busied herself playing peekaboo with Teddy. His thoughts drifted back to the engagement ring he'd selected, and even though it was safely tucked away in his attic, he practically felt its weight in his pocket.

Teddy laughed and his hair changed to match Ginny's fiery red every time she popped her hands open. Harry chuckled at the sight, and he wondered about marriage, wondered about kids.

"It's not safe now," he thought, "…but when will it be safe?"

His smile faded as he contemplated the future, and he palpably felt his mood darken as he remembered he had Azkaban patrol tomorrow. Teddy flung out his arm and knocked his bowl to the floor with a clatter, scattering crumbs.

"Presents!" Harry said as the bowl came to a rest, using the break to shake off the foreboding.

He pulled a brightly wrapped medium sized box from his pouch and helped Teddy unwrap it as Andromeda vanished the crumbs and the icing and sent the bowl to the sink.

"A toy broom?" Andromeda said, "he can't even walk yet."

"I had one at the same age," Harry said, a bit more defensively than he'd intended.

"And it was my godfather who gave it to me," he thought.

"Hopefully he'll like flying as much as I do," he added.

"I wish they were here to see this," Harry thought. Then again, if Sirius and Professor Lupin and Tonks were alive…

He glanced up at Andromeda to see her watching him carefully; he jumped slightly as Ginny kissed him on the cheek.

"Come on, let's see if he'll ride it," Harry said as they moved to the living room.

"I'm going to have to wrap everything in cotton wool," Andromeda said as she glided along after them.

After unwrapping a small plush toy chimaera of Ginny's, they tried to get Teddy up on the broom, but he had trouble keeping his balance, and it kept zooming off without him, leaving him to wobble and eventually sit down on the floor. That didn't stop him from trying though, and he started using the broom like a makeshift rocket, launching it at various pieces of furniture or at peoples' legs and then laughing hysterically. This went on for about fifteen minutes until Teddy started fussing when he couldn't get it to zoom off again.

"It's almost time for his second nap," Andromeda said as she picked him up. She passed him to Harry who held him in the crook of one arm while Andromeda made a bottle of milk.

Harry watched the practised motions; she didn't even need to look at what she was doing.

"He's not going to want to sleep until you go," Andromeda said as she picked Teddy up again, deposited him in the corner of the couch, and handed him the bottle. Still focused on the broom, he shoved it away at first, but once it hit his mouth he grabbed it and started greedily sucking the liquid down with large, audible gulps.

Harry nodded.

"We'd better head out then," he said, "happy birthday Teddy."

Ginny echoed him, and then they were at the fireplace. Harry noted Tonks' wand was back in the centre of the mantle place.

"The Burrow," Ginny said as she walked through first. Harry followed close behind.

"Mum, dad, I'm home!" Ginny called as Harry stepped through the fireplace. He nearly stumbled into her but caught himself in time.

"Ginny, this is a surprise," Mrs. Weasley said as she bustled down the steps, "and Harry too."

She stopped on the bottom step and regarded them.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"Nothing's wrong mum, we just came from Teddy Lupin's first birthday party," Ginny said.

"Oh, isn't that wonderful, one year old already?" Mrs. Weasley said as she hugged Ginny, then moved on to give Harry the same treatment.

"Can I offer you a snack before dinner?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

Harry started to shake his head, but was interrupted by a soft pop from outside.

"Hullo?" Ron said as he walked through the front door, "hi Mum. Ginny? What are you doing here?"

"Students over seventeen can leave the castle on weekends now," Ginny said.

"Cracking. Is there any food?" Ron asked as he walked to the kitchen, with Molly close behind.

"So it's not just a one-time thing?" Harry asked quietly.

Ginny shook her head with a mischievous glint in her eye.

"And when exactly were you planning on telling me about this?" Harry asked.

"I wasn't, figured I'd surprise you one day at home," Ginny said, as she walked her fingers up his back, giving him goosebumps, "guess that plan's gone and twacked itself though."

"Doesn't mean you can't try it anyway," Harry said as he tried to ignore Ginny's teasing.

The floo roared, and George stepped through.

"Afternoon George," Harry said, "how's things?"

"Hi Harry. Shop's doing well, I suppose, haven't had to sell the place yet," George replied, "you?"

"George is that you? See if you can drag your father in from the shed," Mrs. Weasley called from the kitchen.

"Duty calls," George said with a grimace.

He returned a few minutes later with Mr. Weasley in tow, and they all sat down to a dinner of pig roast with pineapple, and made small talk about school and the shop and whatever else wasn't Auror business. Harry was halfway through his second helping when a brown Ministry owl tapped on the window. Ron stood up to receive the letter and gave the plump bird a bit of pork as a tip. He unfolded the letter as he returned to the table.

"Looks like our requests are done, we're to pick them up whenever we're available," Ron said.

The squib who had come to the Ministry had reported a compulsion being used at a casino in Scotland. Harry (and by extension, Ron) were assigned to investigate, but they couldn't walk in using their own identification, so they'd been practising a glamour for the past few days while the Ministry worked on fake muggle IDs and casino memberships.

"Can we pick them up tonight?" Harry asked.

Ron frowned.

"Just says whenever we're available," Ron said as he scanned the letter again with a shrug.

Another tap at the window, and a grey Ministry owl delivered an identical letter for Harry.

Harry and Ron finished up quickly and excused themselves. Harry gave Ginny a quick peck on the cheek and a whispered 'I love you'. He made a writing motion to indicate they should talk later and she nodded.

Harry and Ron floo'd directly to the Ministry and made their way to Auror Headquarters. Despite it being Sunday night, many of their co-workers were busy writing reports, and the Tracer department was once again lit up and looked they had been in residence all weekend, just as they had been for the better part of a year. They stopped in at Muggle Assets; the cute brunette witch at the counter saw them enter, immediately recognised them, and pulled a pair of yellow envelopes from behind the counter.

"Here you go," she said with a smile.

"Thank you," Harry said.

"Good luck!" the Ministry worker called as they were on their way out the door, and Harry gave her a nod and a wave as they departed.

"Honestly, at first I liked all the attention, but now I'm wondering when it's going to stop," Ron said as they walked.

"Never," Harry replied, "not until we're old and we can't even remember why we're famous anymore, and that's only if we don't do anything noteworthy between now and then."

Ron shook his head.

"You're exceptionally cheery today, you know that?" he said.

"I try," Harry replied.

They crossed the Atrium in silence.

"West Edinburgh Auror Floo," Harry said. With a burst of green fire, he appeared in one of the DMLE's safe exit points. Ron appeared right after him. Both men applied their glamours, and two bearded men in their mid-thirties exited through a closed restaurant and walked through a miserable drizzle to a rundown hotel. Traffic lights reflected off roads, and in the distance, the neon glow of the casino beckoned.

Harry and Ron got settled in their hotel room and practised their glamours again to make sure they got them close enough to their muggle IDs to get into the casino. They wouldn't be able to cast much while under the glamours, but since they were undercover, they didn't expect to get into any serious conflicts. In the worst case, they could always drop the glamours if they had to duel. It helped that they disguised themselves as older, grungier versions of themselves; they didn't need to change their body shape and the beards would hide any mistakes in the glamours over their faces.

By the time they finished, it was well into evening and the casino would no doubt be filling up. They made their way across the street and passed beneath the neon lights that lit up both the property and the nearby buildings with their unnatural glows. Harry unconsciously held his breath as he presented his muggle ID. He silently exhaled as he stepped into the casino proper, Ron right behind him. Dozens, perhaps hundreds, of bright lights lit up the interior. Posh furnishings and loud signs proclaimed big rewards in capital letters and dramatic font contrasted sharply with the garish orange and brown carpet. The cacophony of dings and rings of hundreds of slot machines filled the chilly air, and he passed no less than a dozen grey and white-haired pensioners mindlessly pressing buttons and receiving coins every time the machines paid out.

"Come on, let's have a look around," Harry said. Ron stared, trying to take everything, and Harry felt the same; he'd only just turned eighteen the prior year and had never seen the inside of a casino before. Dice games and card games and spinning wheel games promised the world, and while not packed, there were at least a few gambling muggles at almost every table. The casino employees wore maroon uniforms as they shuffled cards and used sticks to move chips and dice around.

"Look at all this," Ron muttered.

"Yeah," Harry replied. The muggles at the slots definitely seemed to be in some kind of trance, eyes glazed as they pulled the lever or pressed buttons over and over. One shawl-clad elderly woman impressively played three machines simultaneously, tapping buttons and pulling levers at a frantic pace as coins plinked into a trio of plastic buckets set up to catch them.

"Do you know how these games work?" Ron asked.

"I have an idea on a few of them," Harry said, "but not really."

Ron nodded.

"I don't feel any compulsions though, do you?" Ron asked.

Harry shook his head.

"I can't tell if the muggles at the slots are being compelled to play, or if they're always like that," he said, "it might not cover the whole casino; let's look around and see if we recognize anyone, or if we feel a sudden, unexplainable urge to start betting."

They started wandering aimlessly through the casino. Harry noted there seemed to be several ranks of casino employees, from the ladies carrying drinks, to the dealers who wore maroon, to more important looking people wearing dark coloured blazers or suits. They passed a cordoned off area where muggles played cards against one another, skirted around some more slots and started heading towards the roulette tables when Harry felt it: a very subtle tug at his subconscious; he would probably have never noticed if he wasn't actively watching out for it. One glance at Ron confirmed he'd felt the same thing.

"Where's it coming from though?" Ron asked.

They circled around, and Harry passed in and out of the compulsion area several times; it appeared to cover at least half of the floor, possibly more than half.

"How are they doing it?" Harry asked quietly.

"What if we tried to find the edges?" Ron asked, "then maybe we could figure out where the centre is, wherever it's coming from."

Harry nodded. They started following the edge of the field of compulsion by crossing back and forth as they pretended to glance at various games. Their search took them around and in between roulette and blackjack tables, through another bank of slot machines and to a green pillar at the edge of the gaming floor.

"Harry, I think this pillar is glamoured," Ron said quietly. He reached towards it and Harry watched as Ron's hand passed right through the outer edge of the stone pillar and stopped about an inch into it. Harry glanced about and pivoted around so his wand arm was hidden from the majority of the room, then slipped his wand from his sleeve.

"Revelio," Harry muttered.

The glamour vanished, leaving a pillar that looked exactly the same, only slightly smaller. Near the base, Harry spotted a small, triangular object embedded into the stone. He and Ron knelt down.

"That's a ward stone," Harry said, "I saw the warder place them at Andromeda's cottage."

"I've never seen metal like that before, and what's that rune?" Ron asked.

The ward stone itself wasn't stone at all; it was some kind of dark metal that somehow seemed familiar to Harry, but even though he racked his brain, he couldn't place exactly where he'd seen it. The rune was unfamiliar as well: a pair of offset vertical lines topped off by a diagonal slash, and a small dot scooped out off to one side.

He stood up and glanced around the casino.

"It's a good bet there are other stones forming the border of the ward, and that's what's creating the compulsion," Harry said, "I've never heard of anything like this though, you?"

Ron shook his head.

"How would it even work?" Ron asked.

"I'm sure Hermione would know something," Harry thought, but he didn't voice his opinion out loud; for all he knew, Ron could be thinking the same thing.

"No idea," Harry said, "we'll have to bring a specialist in to take a look at it."

He led the way to the nearest exit. In the hall around the casino, muggles had already formed a lengthy queue behind a bank of ATM machines; it appeared the compulsion wards were having the desired effect. The two Aurors walked quickly through the night to the secure DMLE floo exit and arrived at Auror Headquarters only a few minutes after leaving the casino. They dropped their glamours as they passed reception.

"It's Sunday night, will anyone even be here?" Ron asked as his features returned to normal.

"Someone's always supposed to be on station," Harry replied as they walked past the Auror cube farm and to the ward specialist offices, just past the Tracer department. He stepped through the open doorway to find only an empty seat behind the counter, and a note spell-o-taped to the top.

"Out on a call, back by midnight, or leave a message."

"Damn," Harry muttered as he showed the note to Ron.

"Forty-minute wait, and that's IF they return by midnight," Ron said, "I'm going to buy a sandwich, want anything?"

"Just… a chocolate frog or something," Harry said.

Ron returned shortly with the snacks, along with a pair of Peach Tree fizzing teas. They sat at the waiting area and ate in silence as Harry tried to stave off drowsiness. All of the long days had started blurring one into another, and while he'd grown accustomed to the work, there seemed to be an ever-growing tidal wave that their department could never catch up on. Harry absently bit the head off his frog before it even took a single jump, then glanced down at the card while the legs wriggled impotently in his hand.

Ronald Weasley

He smirked and passed the card to Ron without looking over.

"Oh brilliant," Ron said, "I heard they were putting us in the latest print run, going to have to put this one in a case."

They heard footsteps from down the hall and Ron quickly stowed the card in his pocket while Harry wolfed down the rest of his chocolate. A dark-skinned middle-aged woman in dark blue ward specialist robes walked around the corner and stopped in the doorway as she caught sight of them.

Harry stood up.

"Hi, I'm Harry Potter and this is-" Harry said.

"I know who you are," the specialist said, "I just…"

She sighed and closed her eyes.

"Sorry, it's been a very busy month. Year, actually," she said, "Patricia Williams, pleasure to make your acquaintance at last Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley. What can I do for you?"

Harry nodded in understanding.

"We've found an interesting ward stone in a casino in Scotland, and we think it's being used to create a compulsion to encourage the muggles to gamble more," Harry said, "we'd like you to take a look at it."

Williams nodded.

"Any chance this could wait until tomorrow morning?" she asked.

"I don't think the ward is active all the time, but it's up right now, so if we could find out where the ward is controlled from, we could try and catch whoever is behind this," Harry said.

Williams made a helpless gesture.

"Of course it can't. Lead the way then," she said.

The three of them floo'd back to Edinburgh.

"You'd better disillusion yourself, you don't have a casino membership," Ron said as he started glamouring himself again.

"Ah, stealth isn't really my specialty," Williams said with an apologetic smile.

Harry tapped his wand on her head a few times and she faded from view. He found it odd that he was now the one disillusioning others, but he supposed it was eventually going to happen at some point. He re-applied his glamour, and he and Ron led the way back to the casino with Williams staying close behind them to avoid anyone bumping into her. Harry suspected something was off as they passed a row of unoccupied ATMs on the way in, and his fears magnified when he didn't feel any urge to play the games, and were finally confirmed when they arrived at the pillar where the ward stone had been embedded.

"It's gone," he said, "and so is the compulsion."

"Fuck," Ron muttered.

"Foul language won't help," Williams said quietly, "can you tell me anything about the stone?"

Harry looked around; he was sure nobody had seen them, and the glamour on the pillar had been almost completely unnoticeable. Then he glanced up at the ceiling.

"Let's get out of here first; we're not going to find anything else," Harry said as he nodded towards the black globes set at regular intervals into the ceiling, "they probably saw us on camera looking at the stone, and that's why they cleared everything out when we left. Idiot, I should have remembered there are cameras in casinos."

Now wary of an attack, Harry let his wand drop into his hand. He led the way to the nearest exit, with Williams between him and Ron, and the three of them made a beeline for the floo. They headed straight back to London as quickly as possible without looking suspicious. Harry pulled out a small pad and a ballpoint pen and drew as they crossed the Atrium.

"It was a dark metal, triangular, and it had a rune that looked like this," Harry said as he created a rough approximation of the ward stone.

"It looks like a common rune, except this dot up here, and the diagonal slash extends past the bottom line and tapers at the end," Williams said, "did it end in a sharp point?"

Harry nodded.

"Interesting, it's almost definitely custom, but I couldn't say what it does without seeing the rest, and the shape of the stones and the configuration of the ward," she said.

They entered the lift and pressed the button for the DMLE.

"What about the stone itself, I mean the metal?" Ron asked.

"You said it was a dark metal, did it have a slight blueish tint to it?" Williams asked.

"Yeah, it did," Ron said with a hint of excitement.

"It sounds like cold iron, but I'd have to see it to be sure," Williams replied.

"Cold iron, what's that mean?" Ron asked.

"Nothing, really," Williams said, "it's a type of metal commonly used by the fey, sprites and leprechauns and whatnot. It can be used to magnify some rituals. Whoever created the rune probably did it with cold iron ward stones in mind; it sounds like they knew what they were doing. I'm afraid that without more information, that's the best I can do."

Ron nodded.

"Thanks for coming out, sorry for wasting your time like this," Harry said, "we'll let you know if we come across any others."

Williams nodded wearily.

"That's what we're here for," she said with a small nod, and then she was around the corner, headed back to the warder's department.

"Stupid, we should have looked more while we were there," Harry said. He banged his fist into his palm.

"Don't kick yourself, we're just bloody knackered, mate," Ron said with a yawn.

"That's what concerns me," Harry said. The Auror department had been going full tilt since he started at the beginning of the year, and adding in the Azkaban patrols on top, he felt like he could sleep for a week and still not catch up.

"Come on, let's get these reports done," Harry said.

They sat and wrote into the wee hours of the morning, and as they finished off the reports, eyelids drooping, Harry considered their next step.

"Think this was one person, or a group?" Harry asked.

"I'd say a group," Ron replied, "one person can't watch the whole casino all the time, they'd need a lot of people."

Harry nodded.

"Which means they'll probably try again at a different casino," he said, "we can still catch them, we just need to be more careful about tipping them off, get the anti-apparition up, set a trap."

"We'll need new glamours, since they know what these look like now," Ron said as he tossed his muggle ID onto the table.

"Right, but that won't take long, and we can get some made up for the rest of the team," Harry said, "then all we need to do is search every casino until we find another compulsion."

They bent over their parchments and completed the reports, but Harry wrote almost on autopilot as his brain buzzed with various tactics for trying to track down the wizards who were, for all intents and purposes, stealing from vulnerable muggles.

---

Harry wandered through the university campus, still unsure of his decision to use some of his precious free time to have lunch with Dudley. He'd eventually convinced himself by asking what Dumbledore would have done. The truth was, despite all the punishment he'd inflicted on Harry in their youth, Dudley had straightened out somewhat in the past few years, and he did save Harry at Cathedral, and he was his cousin, his only cousin. So, he found himself waving to his muscular family member as they spotted each other from a distance. Dudley had staked out a table outdoors at Joe's, a greasy looking university burger joint featuring an American flag emblazoned across the front sign. Despite the rain the previous night, the sun had decided to make an appearance, warm on Harry's dark hair, a reminder that spring was well under way, and summer was only a month or two away.

"You been drinking? You look hung over," Dudley said as Harry approached.

"Thanks," Harry replied. Among the Aurors, it was common knowledge that looking like something that'd been dragged through the gutter and left to dry on its own was par for the course for the day after Azkaban patrol.

He sat down in the cheap plastic chair, and Dudley shoved a laminated menu at him.

"Try the bacon burger, that'll fix you right up," he said.

"What are you having?" Harry asked. All of the burgers looked the same to him.

"Monster burger, and then we'll see," Dudley replied. Harry nodded and they stood up to order, and returned to their seats with a pair of burgers, grease dripping onto wax paper, and several large chips, fresh out of the fryer. Harry bit into it and intense salty flavour shocked his taste buds. He was fairly certain this single burger might be enough to clog his arteries and cause heart disease, but Dudley had been right about one thing; he did feel better after a few bites.

"So how's uni, what's going on?" Harry asked.

"Well," Dudley replied as he chewed, "we're five and two this season, hoping to improve on last year's eight and four. Classes are boring, but you probably could have guessed that…"

The conversation drifted, and Harry was struck by how ordinary it was. Rugby, classes, chasing girls, finding a job for spending cash… outside of that one incident at Cathedral, no running for his life, or dodging fanatical murderous killers, Harry felt odd even having the conversation, and it seemed so different; he found himself again thinking of the invisibility cloak, how easy it would be for him to vanish and remake himself somewhere else. But he couldn't do that to his friends, he wouldn't. Still, life would be simpler if he wasn't Lord Harry Potter, Defeater of the Dark Lord Voldemort.

"You don't know how good you've got it," Harry said.

Dudley paused mid-story and took a long slurp from his coca-cola while staring at Harry.

"It ain't all good," Dudley said, "being a rugby player, I get all kinds of attention. A few months ago I was pissed out of my mind, could barely walk, and there's this whale who's been trying to get in my pants all year. So we're at a party and we're drinking, somehow I end up back at her place and she's got my shirt off-"

"I don't think I want to hear this story," Harry said.

"No hang on. So she says she has to go to the other room to change, and her lamp throws her shadow onto the wall, and I see her take off her knickers. I'm telling you, they were HUGE, the shadow took up the entire bloody wall," Dudley said as he gestured wide with both hands, "And that's when I knew, I had to get out of there. So I grab my shirt and tiptoe to the door, and as I turn the knob she spots me and asks me where I was going. I legged it."

"You just left her standing there? Starkers? That's horrible," Harry said.

"I left my shoes too. No shirt, dead of winter, I ran for my bloody life," Dudley said.

Despite empathizing with that poor overweight girl Dudley had run off from, the image of his cousin stumbling and weaving barefoot through the freezing cold was so hilarious he ended up in stitches, and the more he tried not to laugh, the harder it was to stop, until he had tears in his eyes and couldn't breathe.

"See, there you go, don't be so serious all the time," Dudley said.

"Sirius," Harry thought. All mirth immediately fled, leaving him feeling sore and somewhat deflated.

"You look like you need a holiday," Dudley said.

"I can't, I have too much going on," Harry said.

"And if I let anything slip, it could be a disaster," he thought.

"Well, you can always swing by here on Friday or Saturday night, we're usually having a party, especially after a game," Dudley said.

"Err," Harry said as he considered whether this was some kind of ruse by Dudley to get him alone with a group of his friends. He studied his cousin for a moment. Dudley did seem somewhat more agreeable, even if he was still self-centred and had a slightly too high opinion of himself. Perhaps he'd grown up a bit, or perhaps he'd mellowed out after moving away from his parents.

"I'll think about it," Harry said.

One of the restaurant staff, another uni student by the look of her, approached the table.

"Will you be ordering anything else?" she asked.

"Nah, I think we're fine," Harry said. He and Dudley stood up and shook hands.

"Good seein' you, pot-head. Keep in touch, eh? Get a phone, maybe?" Dudley said.

"Yeah, will do," Harry replied, "we'll see about the phone though."

---

Harry resisted the urge to tap his foot. Matt and Liz, both wearing muggle clothing, sat in front of him in the briefing room he'd requisitioned for the casino investigation, but Tammy and Ron were both two minutes late. After encountering the ward in Edinburgh, Harry wanted to visit all the other casinos in Britain to try and find another compulsion ward. Unfortunately, they only had five team members, otherwise he would have sent everyone off in pairs. Since he refused to send anyone alone, they would work in two teams; it would take half again as long, but there was nothing for it. Tammy slipped into the room and raised a hand as if to apologise, followed by Ron nearly a minute later. He finished off a sandwich as he sat down.

"Sorry," Ron said with his mouth full.

"Right, now that we're all here, this is the list," Harry said, pointing to a parchment pinned to a board, "every casino in Britain. Liz and myself will start at the top, and since Ron felt the ward in Edinburgh and knows what to look for, he's heading the other team, working from the bottom. If you find a compulsion, do not engage, do not do anything or they're going to run again. Check in back here every two hours and if anyone finds anything, we'll put together an anti-apparition team and a ward specialist, and all go together."

There were murmured agreements, and Harry was last out of the room with a whispered password to charm the door shut, then he and Liz flooed to Dublin. They glamoured themselves to look like their fresh muggle IDs, (Harry's was slightly shorter and older than his first one), and started making a circuit of the city, checking every casino and crisscrossing the floor, searching for compulsions. They hit three casinos in the morning, checked in to make sure nobody had found anything, and ate lunch in the fourth.

"Any luck finding anything out about the Sevens?" Liz asked. Her glamoured form was, like Harry's, similar to her real face and body, with dark hair and deep blue eyes, but older and with enough differences she wouldn't be recognized. Harry took a bite out of a chip and shook his head.

"Nothing, it's like they vanished back to wherever they came from," he said.

She quirked her lips to the side, something Harry had learned to interpret as a sign of annoyance. Harry nodded to her to indicate he wanted her to speak up.

"I feel like we're not getting anywhere," Liz said, "calls are through the roof, people are being hurt, and we have five aur-"

She caught herself and fell silent.

"D asked us to investigate, so that's what we're doing," Harry said, "and people would definitely be hurt by this as well, maybe not as directly, but…"

But would this really lead to Death Eaters? Probably not, considering how close they'd have to work with muggles to pull something like this off. Appetite lost, he pushed the rest of his fish and chips away.

"Come on," he said, "the faster we move, the sooner we can find out who's behind all this."

They didn't find any compulsions that day, or the following day as casinos were crossed off the list, one by one. As they passed the halfway point without any success, Harry began to wonder if perhaps they'd missed their chance, but there was another possibility.

"Maybe they scarpered," Ron said after the last meeting of the day.

Harry nodded absently, but his mind was somewhere else. Something in his gut told him they were on a wild kneazle chase.

"Maybe they know there's a list," he thought, "somehow, maybe they know where we are on the list."

"We have to be thorough anyway. Let's finish off the rest of them, and I'll see you all tomorrow morning," he said.

He opened the door to the meeting room to let everyone depart.

Ron paused by the door with a questioning expression.

"Go on, I've one more thing to take care of," Harry said.

Ron didn't put up much of an argument as he followed the others, and Harry closed the door again. Seeing as it was already inside the DMLE, the enchantments on it weren't exactly the strongest; there wasn't anything especially dangerous in the room. Harry looked over at the list pinned to the board on the far side of the room. Mind made up, he pulled a small thread from the t-shirt he wore beneath his blazer, and set it just beneath the bottom hinge of the door, then closed the door on it, holding it in place, just the tiniest bit of it peeking out. If anyone opened the door overnight, the thread would fall to the ground. With his impromptu non-magical trap in place, Harry headed home for dinner and an early night's rest.

The following morning, he arrived an hour before most of the Ministry staff began their day, and strode straight to the meeting room, his heart already thumping in anticipation of finding something, or nothing… he wasn't sure. It skipped a beat when he spied the little thread lying on the carpeted floor.

"Someone's been in the meeting room," he thought, "they have someone inside the Ministry, inside the DMLE."

He swallowed. What should he do with this information, could he try and track down the spy by himself? It took him only a second to decide, and his legs turned to Dawlish's office. As Harry suspected, the harried Head Auror sat at his chaotic desk, poring over reports. Harry knocked on the door frame, and Dawlish looked up, then motioned him to enter.

"Morning Potter, you're here early," Dawlish said. The bags under his eyes were even more pronounced than usual.

"Could say the same to you sir," Harry replied as he closed the door behind him, "I've run into a problem… someone's been inside the briefing room we're using for our investigation of the casinos."

Dawlish closed the folder he was reading and looked directly at Harry. With his superior's full attention, Harry described how he'd used a non-magical trap on the door to find out if anyone had been inside overnight.

"Clever of you to use a muggle detection method, but let's not jump to conclusions," Dawlish said, "it could have been one of your team returning overnight. Better safe than sorry though."

Dawlish stood up and opened a cabinet near the rear of his office and withdrew a small glass vial filled with clear liquid.

"Is that what I think it is?" Harry asked.

"Veritaserum," Dawlish said.

Harry was about to protest, but Dawlish cut him off.

"Sit down, you're first, and then we'll test your team," Dawlish said.

Harry pointed a finger at his chest in surprise, then realised it made sense as he thought about it from Dawlish's point of view. An Auror came to him and said there was a spy within the DMLE, but Dawlish had no idea if he was telling the truth, and the Head Auror wanted to cover all bases.

"I'll only ask about the thread and the incident overnight," Dawlish said, "your secrets are safe from me, Potter."

Harry nodded. He trusted the man, and Dawlish had been nothing but a helpful mentor to him so far. Harry sat in a chair in front of the desk and tilted his head back while Dawlish administered a few drops onto his tongue. An ease came over Harry, a sort of fog in his brain.

"Don't try to fight it. Were you telling the truth in your briefing about last night, and the thread you placed?" Dawlish asked.

"Yes," Harry's mouth replied, before he'd even thought about the question.

"Are you acting as a spy within the DMLE?" Dawlish asked.

"No," Harry replied.

Dawlish stopped and stared at Harry; he seemed to be weighing whether to ask another question, but before long, Harry felt the fog lifting from his brain, and after a few more seconds, it was completely gone.

"Right, better head to the briefing room before your team arrives," Dawlish said as he replaced the vial in the cabinet.

Harry stood up and saluted. A small part of him was insulted that Dawlish had questioned him under Veritaserum, but after mulling it over a few times, he imagined he would have done the exact same thing in Dawlish's position. It wasn't long before he spotted Matt's large frame approaching.

"Morning," Harry said, "Dawlish wants to see you."

The big man raised an eyebrow.

"Something wrong?" he asked.

Harry shrugged.

"I didn't ask," Harry replied, "come on."

Harry led them to the Head Auror's office, and let Matt enter first before closing the door behind them.

"Morning Wilson, have a seat," Dawlish said. The chair groaned under Matt's weight as Harry stood by the door.

"Morning sir, what's going on?" Matt asked.

Harry had full confidence in the rest of the Aurors he'd trained with, but the tiniest sliver of a doubt crawled into his mind. Apparently the same was true for Dawlish, for Harry spotted his wand in his hand as he stood up. Matt noticed the same thing, apparently, as he sat up a bit straighter.

"There's a possible leak in the DMLE," Dawlish said, "we don't think it's you, so this is only a precaution. Will you submit to questioning under Veritaserum?"

Matt twisted around and glanced at Harry with an incredulous look, and Harry nodded but kept his face expressionless.

"Yes sir," Matt replied as he shifted in his seat.

Harry watched the process from the door this time, as Dawlish administered three drops to Matt.

"Did you return to the DMLE between the hours of nine o'clock last night and seven this morning?"

"No"

"Are you acting as a spy within the DMLE?"

"No"

Dawlish nodded, and Harry felt a small pressure valve release within him.

"Go wait at your cube, don't talk to anyone until Potter comes to get you," Dawlish said.

Wilson stood up, saluted, then nodded to Harry as he left the office. Harry returned to wait outside the briefing room. Liz was next, with the same results, followed by a lengthy wait in front of the meeting room door. Ron showed up a minute before their briefing was supposed to start, and Harry walked to meet him.

"Morning," Ron said with a yawn.

"Morning," Harry said, "come on, Dawlish wants to see you."

Ron stood still, and Harry actually saw the blood drain from his face.

"About what?" Ron asked.

"Why, what did you do?" Harry asked.

"Nothing," Ron replied as he quickly shook off whatever had come over him, "Dawlish wants to see us right? Better not keep him waiting."

Ron turned and led the way, and they walked silently to the Head Auror's office. While his best friend tried to hide his nervousness, Harry knew him too well; his slightly clenched hands gave him away, whereas they would be fully open if he was relaxed.

"It's impossible, Ron would never betray us, me, like that," Harry thought.

"Maybe he has no idea about the spy, maybe it's something else, but what could possibly have him so on edge?" Harry thought.

"Morning Weasley," Dawlish said as they arrived, "have a seat."

Ron took three steps, sat down in the offered chair, and gripped the armrests.

"There's a possible leak in the DMLE. We don't think it's you, but we need to be sure, standard procedure," Dawlish said, "will you submit to Veritaserum questioning?"

"Yes, sure," Ron replied, and Harry thought he heard him breathe a small sigh of relief.

They went through the same questions again without an issue.

"Go wait by your cube, don't talk to anyone," Dawlish said.

Ron stood up and saluted. Harry wanted to find out what had gotten Ron so nervous, but he couldn't, not in front of Dawlish. He returned to the briefing room and found Miller sitting inside, her blonde hair done up in a simple ponytail.

"Morning Harry, where is everyone?" she asked.

"Morning. Change of plans, Dawlish wants to speak with you," Harry said.

Tammy raised an eyebrow, but she nodded and stood up to fall into step next to him.

"What's going on?" she asked quietly.

"Not sure, he didn't say," Harry replied, effortlessly this time.

Miller answered Dawlish's questions without an issue, and the Head Auror nodded.

"Right, go bring the rest of them in," he said to Harry. Harry nodded and gathered the team from their cubes. Two minutes later, the five of them had crowded into Dawlish's office and Harry closed the door behind them.

"Apologies for that, but it's a necessary evil," Dawlish said, "Keep your eyes open, and if you notice anything suspicious, come straight to me. I'm launching an internal investigation to track down the mole, but in the meantime, any hint that we're on to them could cause them to take measures to protect themselves. So, keep moving with your investigation like nothing is wrong, and for Merlin's sake, don't discuss any of this with anyone, not even amongst yourselves."

"Sir, if they're feeding information to the dark wizards we're looking for, do you think they could be planning an ambush?" Harry asked.

"It's unlikely they'll attack a pair of Aurors in broad daylight," Dawlish said, "but it's your call how, or if, you want to split your team, Potter."

Harry nodded.

"Any questions? Dismissed," Dawlish said.

They returned to the briefing room, and Harry closed the door behind them.

"Who do you-" Tammy started.

"Shut it," Liz said before Harry could.

"You heard Dawlish, we push forward with the investigation," Harry said, "Change of teams though, Ron, you're with me, Liz you head up the other team, keep going from the bottom of the list."

After a few murmured agreements, they departed the DMLE and Harry let Liz lead Matt and Tammy out first.

"West Edinburgh Auror Floo," Harry said, and he glanced at Ron as the flames roared to make sure he heard.

Ron was right after him.

"Aren't we supposed to be in Manchester?" Ron asked.

"I have a hunch," Harry said as he waved his wand over himself to cast the glamour that would let him slip into the casino. Originally, he'd asked Ron to come with him so he could find out what had been bothering him before the meeting with Dawlish, but now that Harry had thought on it for a few minutes, he wasn't so sure. In the end, he decided to just go for it.

"So, what happened before meeting Dawlish?" Harry asked.

"What do you mean?" Ron replied.

"Come on, I know that look, it's the same look you get when we're about to be caught by Filch after hours," Harry said.

Ron stayed silent and focused on putting his own glamour on.

"Alright, you don't have to tell me," Harry said, "just… whatever it is, I've got your back, alright?"

Ron nodded.

Harry stayed silent for a moment, wondering if Ron would say anything, but the silence stretched. Finally, he decided if Ron wanted to tell him, he would, otherwise Harry would assume it wasn't important enough, or Ron wasn't ready, and he decided he trusted his best friend enough not to press the issue.

"Let's go," Harry said, and he pushed the door open.

They walked through a steady drizzle to the casino where they'd found the ward stone before it vanished. They walked the floor, and Harry saw Ron stiffen a second before he felt it himself.

"Bloody hell," Ron muttered.

"Right back where we started," Harry said, "let's get out of here."

His footsteps slowed once they exited the casino though, despite the steady drizzle.

"I'm going to try to take a look inside," he said quietly.

"What, alone?" Ron asked.

Harry nodded.

"I have the cloak, maybe I can find out what's going on," Harry said, "we haven't found whoever is feeding information to them; if we try to set up a raid, they'll probably know and give us the slip, just like last time."

"I'll come with you," Ron said.

"No, a normal revelio can see through disillusionment, but so far the only one who's been able to see through the cloak is Dumbledore," Harry said, "I'll be careful, promise."

Ron's glamoured face looked torn.

"Fifteen minutes, then I'm calling the cavalry," Ron said.

"Fifteen from when I get inside, give me five for that," Harry said, and Ron nodded reluctantly.

They returned to the Auror floo exit and disillusioned themselves, Harry under his cloak and Ron using his wand. Harry also took the additional step of silencing his footsteps. Walking through the rain might give them away a little bit, as there would be a bubble where no rain passed through them, but it was difficult to spot and Harry thought the risk was better than trying to vanish from inside the casino or anywhere in public.

Harry paused just under the overhang covering the main entrance.

"See you in twenty minutes," he whispered.

"You'd better," Ron whispered back. Harry waited for someone to enter the casino and slipped in behind them before the door closed. He breezed past the entrance to the casino proper in much the same fashion, and then he waited near one of the 'employees only' doors at the edge of the floor for one of the better dressed casino employees to enter. It took a few minutes, but eventually a middle-aged man wearing a dark suit walked over, tapped a card and punched in a code on a number pad to unlock the door, and Harry ducked behind him into the interior corridor. In a sharp contrast to the garish casino floor carpets, this hallway was sterile, with white walls, fluorescent lights, and dark marble or granite underfoot. Harry let the casino employee get a little bit ahead of him before he started exploring. The place was a maze of turns and doors, all of them looking identical to one another. With ten of his twenty minutes already gone, Harry considered his next move.

"If there are any wizards down here, they'll probably have a muggle repelling ward or something over a really important area," Harry thought, "I just have to find the ward."

He pulled his wand beneath the cloak and started casting wordless invenies felis charms at each door, looking for one that would cause his wand to vibrate. About a dozen doors later, he found one. Harry glanced up and down the hall to ensure it was deserted.

"Enodare texere," he muttered, and the individual threads of magic that composed the barrier glowed softly in front of him, crisscrossing the door in multiple colours. He'd studied magical traps as part of Auror training, and while he wasn't an expert, this didn't seem to be much more than a rudimentary muggle repelling charm combined with an alarm. He moved his wand towards an orange thread and it reacted to the tip's closeness, repelling away as if pushed by a magnet.

"Careful," Harry thought. Push too hard or too far and bad things could happen, like the alarm going off or the inert magical energies of the trap all discharging themselves at once. Harry finished disabling the charm, at least he thought he did.

"Alohomora," he thought, and the door opened with a loud click, and no alarm. Harry quickly slipped inside and closed the door behind him.

"Definitely a wizard's room," Harry thought.

Several potions sat on a rack against one wall, and a desk with a black leatherbound book, several sheets of spare parchment, and a few neatly capped inkwells sat against another. Harry checked for any magical defences on the book and, finding nothing, opened it. Numerical figures greeted him, and entries. It was some kind of accounting ledger, but everything else was written in code; Harry had no idea what it was for. Frustrated, and cognizant that his time was running out, he sifted through the parchments on the desk. Some were blank, but some were notes or letters…

Tell him if he wants those deliveries made, he can find someone else. I'm done…

What in Merlin's name is taking so long, you promised we'd be killing the traitors and mudbloods, and it's been nearly a year of hiding and waiting! Me and the boys are ready to go, just say the word…

Harry's heart thumped in his chest; he'd almost certainly stumbled into the hideout of a Death Eater. He kept reading.

About what we spoke on, yes, I have noticed something. What does it mean... The rest of the paper was torn off. He picked up the next one.

Potential Targets

Harry's eyes widened and he kept scanning.

Daily Prophet
Zippy's X
Farms X
Schools X
Gringotts
Ollivander X

"It's a list of potential Death Eater targets," Harry thought, his heart thumping, "this is a huge breakthrough!"

It looked like they were planning some kind of an attack on either the Daily Prophet, or Gringotts. Harry considered taking the list with him, but then realised that would tip off whoever's room this was. He tried to put everything back exactly the way he'd found it, and with only a few minutes to spare, pulled his cloak over his head again, opened the door, and stepped back out into the hall. One of the suit-wearing muggles noticed the door open and close apparently by itself, but Harry was quick with a wordless confundo from under his cloak, and the middle-aged man shook his head and kept walking. With another whispered spell, he brought the magical threads of the alarm back and nudged them into their original positions, then recast his silencio to make sure he wasn't heard as he searched for an exit. Harry wandered the maze beneath the casino, his pace increasing as his time ticked down, until he encountered another casino employee and followed him back out onto the main floor. He ignored the crowds around the dice games and quick-walked past yet another bank of slot machines on his way out, back to the entrance of the casino where he'd left Ron.

"Ron," he whispered.

"Harry, I saw Scabior," Ron whispered from somewhere unseen.

"What?" Harry asked, "is he still here?"

"No, he apparated," Ron whispered.

"I found something too, meet back at the floo exit," Harry whispered.

They retraced their steps invisibly through the drizzle, taking extra care when crossing streets as no muggle drivers could see them. As soon as the door closed behind Harry, Ron let his disillusionment go and a dark spray fizzled off to reveal his form.

"He was wearing muggle clothing, him and some bird. I didn't get a good look at her, but I'd know that skulky wanker anywhere," Ron said, "he's still wearing the skull ring, too."

"The Death Eaters are here, at least one of them," Harry said. He quickly described the office he'd discovered in the casino's underbelly.

"That's why we haven't been able to find them, they're hiding in the muggle world," Harry said.

"Blimey, never would have guessed they'd do that," Ron said.

"It must be Rookwood," Harry said, "he used to be an Unspeakable, he knows how to dodge the Ministry."

"You think it's his office down there?" Ron asked.

Harry shook his head.

"From the letters, it looked like someone close to him, one of the other Death Eaters," Harry replied, "what about Scabior and the other one, what were they doing?"

"Carrying bags, big black ones," Ron replied, "I thought about taking them down, but there were too many muggles around, couldn't risk it. Then they ducked into an alley and…"

Ron snapped his fingers to simulate two apparitions.

"Okay… okay, we need to tell Dawlish, he'll know what to do," Harry said.

They flooed back to the Ministry and Harry went to knock on Dawlish's closed door, but his personal assistant held up her hand to stop him.

"He's in with Robards," she said.

"Fantastic," Harry muttered.

They waited for a few minutes, until the door opened abruptly and the slightly overweight Auror captain stepped out.

"Potter," he said.

"Sir," Harry replied.

Robards only nodded at Ron as he passed by. Ron made a face at Harry as they entered Dawlish's office, and Harry wasn't sure whether it was meant to convey chagrin at not being addressed, or relief that the conversation remained as civil as it did.

"He cannot say anything overtly rude in front of his superior," a little voice whispered to Harry. He shoved it away as Ron closed the door behind them.

"Sir, we've found a Death Eater's hideout, and clues to what they're doing," Harry said.

Dawlish stood up, all trace of weariness gone.

"Where? Who?" he asked.

"That muggle casino in West Edinburgh," Harry said, "not sure which Death Eater, but Ron spotted Scabior and another Snatcher too. It's the first one, the one we found the compulsion field in, they went right back after we investigated it."

Dawlish paused for a moment.

"You weren't seen?" he asked.

Harry shook his head.

"Disillusioned the entire time," he replied.

"Good man," Dawlish replied, "what did you find out about what they're doing?"

Harry described the office for Dawlish, including the trap on the door, the letters, and the list of locations.

"A list of soft targets," Dawlish said quietly, "seems they're planning an attack."

He shifted a few papers around on his desk until he came up with what he was looking for, and started scribbling some notes.

"Right… I want you to continue your casino sweep, then I'm going to reassign you to general investigations," Dawlish said.

"We're not going after the Death Eater?" Harry asked. Frustration at being shoved to the rear of the queue when it was his investigation that had turned up the Death Eater collided with his respect for the Head Auror.

"We need to keep up appearances," Ron said.

Harry immediately understood, and mentally chastised himself for not getting it at first.

Dawlish nodded.

"We haven't found the mole yet, so we're going to continue searching casinos and crossing them off the list until the list is done, and then you're going to be reassigned to make it look like the investigation has been rolled up," Dawlish replied, "in the meantime, I'll be putting the casino under surveillance with safe assets to see what we can find, and we'll go in for a raid when we're ready."

"When the mole is found, or when enough people are cleared," Harry thought.

"What about the targets?" Harry asked.

"We will warn the Prophet and the goblins about the potential for an attack," Dawlish said, "and the rapid response teams will be ready."

The Head Auror paused.

"There is something you could do, come to think of it," he said, "I'll wager there were stacks of muggle currency in those bags the Snatchers were carrying. You could use your connection with the goblins to find out if there have been any large exchanges recently."

"I'll… see what I can do," Harry said.

Dawlish nodded.

"Good. Best to keep this between us. No reports, need to know only, including the rest of your team," Dawlish said, "dismissed."

Harry and Ron saluted and returned to the meeting room; the others had yet to return, so they had the space to themselves. Harry closed the door behind them and started pacing while Ron leaned back in a chair. Despite the relaxed gesture, Harry could tell Ron was on edge. Harry itched to take the fight to whoever was running the casino, to throw on his invisibility cloak and wait inside the office until they returned, however long that might be.

"What do you think?" Harry asked.

"I dunno," Ron replied, "seems a bit risky leaving the Prophet and the goblins open like that, but then again, sending Aurors to make sure they're extra prepared might tip off whoever it is who is planning an attack, and then they'll pick something else."

Harry nodded, realised he had his wand in his hand, and stowed it again.

"Dawlish has been doing this a lot longer than we have," Ron said, "and there's the mole, or moles, to worry about too."

Harry grimaced and nodded. There were too many variables, and if he and Ron went in on their own, even if they managed to capture the Death Eater, they'd be reprimanded for sure. And that was assuming they didn't stuff it up.

"We're going to have to follow orders and hope for the best," Harry said, "for now, anyway."

The rest of the team chose that moment to open the door. A little bit of guilt crept up from Harry's stomach as he tried to act as normal as possible. Keeping secret the fact that they knew where a Death Eater would be and weren't acting on it wasn't easy, but he managed.

"Right, Liz, you're back with me," Harry said, "let's get through the rest of these casinos."

---

"We are looking for criminals," Harry said, "you don't have to show us anything, we just need to know if there have been any suspicious exchanges recently."

He sat in the plush office of Gragnaff, the Gringotts bank manager, an overweight goblin dressed in rich and deep purple and black. They had been going back and forth for several minutes, but thus far he had been frustrated in his attempts to persuade them to provide any information at all.

"The goblins do not take sides in the affairs of wizards or muggles," Gragnaff replied, "our services are open to any who have the coin to do business."

"Which is fine, really," Harry said, "I just-"

"Enough, Mr. Potter," Gragnaff said while holding up one hand. Harry's eyes were drawn to the goblin's long, manicured fingernails.

"You are a busy wizard, and I do not wish to waste any more of either of our time," Gragnaff said, "it is not in the best interests of the goblin nation to divulge any information about our transactions to the government of wizards. I know you are here on someone else's orders, but I must send you back to your superior empty handed."

"I guess you're just following orders as well," Harry said.

Gragnaff didn't nod so much as incline his head, but Harry understood that to mean his guess was correct.

"Right. Well, you know where to find me if anything changes," Harry said.

He stood up and bowed slightly to Gragnaff, who inclined his head again. He and Ron left the office and didn't speak until they were clear of the large double doors and onto the streets of Diagon Alley.

"What now?" Ron asked.

"I want to talk to Fenlok, the goblin liaison," Harry said.

They flooed to the Ministry and Harry walked up to a door with the exceptionally low doorknob marked Goblin Liaison in gold lettering, and tapped lightly on the frosted windowpane. Fenlok, the relatively young goblin, answered the door. He wore miniature robes of a wizarding style with his dark hair neatly combed and parted down the middle.

"Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, is something wrong?" Fenlok asked as he stepped aside to let them in.

His office was neat and tidy, with filing cabinets lining one wall, a pair of miniature flags stood on the small desk, and there were people sized chairs as well. Harry took one and Ron took the other.

"Hi Fenlok, I'm hoping you can help," Harry said, "we ran into some difficulty trying to track down some illicit muggle cash. I was hoping to find out from Gringotts whether there have been any large exchanges recently, but the manager, Gragnaff, couldn't or wouldn't say anything."

Fenlok nodded.

"I'm not surprised," the goblin replied, "Ugluk the Bold is now in charge of Gringotts, and there have been several new policies instituted, one of which is not to divulge any information, to anyone."

"Ugluk?" Ron asked, "forget it Harry, that one's not going to budge."

"Is there any chance we could request an audience with him?" Harry asked.

Fenlok opened his mouth to respond, paused, and then spoke in a very professional manner.

"I will put in the request," he said.

"No help there," Harry thought.

"Thank you, Fenlok," he said.

They stood up and shook hands, and then Harry and Ron returned to the DMLE. Most of the Ministry workers had already departed for the day. Rather than heading to their cubicles though, Harry opened one of the meeting room doors and ducked inside, with Ron right behind him.

"Tell you what, one good thing about this covert business is the lack of reports," Ron said.

"Cheers to that. I'll try to talk to Ragnor, but I'm not hopeful. He seemed to be having a lot of trouble with hardliners," Harry said, "any other ideas?"

Ron scratched his head in thought for a few seconds, then snapped his fingers.

"What if we had the Tracers enchant a whole lot of muggle currency, then we could see where it goes?" Ron asked.

"That's the problem, it goes all over the place," Harry said, "you saw those chips right? Everyone exchanges their money for those chips, and then they exchange it back when they leave. That's probably why they're using a casino; it's nearly impossible to track where all of the money goes."

"Hmm," Ron said with a frown, "too bad, I was sort of looking forward to playing some of those games."

"Could always play with your own money," Harry replied with a small smile.

"Right, let's take our pay for the month and head to the casino where we know there's an active compulsion to spend it all, what could go wrong?" Ron replied.

Harry grinned.

"Merlin, I need a drink," Harry said, "O'Malley's?"

"Eh, I can't tonight, got something on," Ron replied with a frown.

"Oh, err… alright then," Harry said.

"Sorry mate, maybe next time," Ron said, "see you tomorrow?"

"See you," Harry said with a wave. He watched his friend go, then decided that with as often as he found himself longing for more rest during the day, he might as well head home.

When he got there though, he noticed his mood ring bright blue, almost glowing. Ginny was overjoyed about something. He pulled out the magical journal and scribbled a note to her.

"What's got you in such a good mood?" he wrote.

"Slytherin beat Ravenclaw, 150-120!" Ginny wrote.

"?!" Harry wrote, "I thought they were pants this year?"

"They are, they didn't score a single goal, but their seeker caught the snitch," Ginny wrote.

"Wow, well, that's quidditch," Harry wrote.

"That's quidditch," Ginny wrote, "if we beat the Puffs by 50 in our final game we win the cup…. Wish you were here."

"Wish you were here," Harry wrote.

"…I'll be thinking about you tonight," Ginny wrote. Harry swallowed, and he contemplated making a calendar to count down the number of days until Ginny's graduation.

"Me too, love you," he wrote.

"Love you too," Ginny replied, followed by a few hearts.

Harry smiled, and with his day ending on a positive note, crashed into bed.

---

"Thank you for the photograph," Harry said, "it's on display in my house."

Macnair nodded. The two of them sat on adjacent leather chairs in Macnair's Ministry office as tea rapidly cooled on the small coffee table before them. Harry sank into his seat; it was more comfortable than it looked.

"Our ancestors worked together, and although they weren't successful, we are in an altogether different situation," Macnair replied.

"What was it they were trying to do?" Harry asked.

"There was a muggle war in Europe, nearly a century ago, and they put forth a motion to intervene," Macnair replied, "it was defeated, rightfully so, and the muggle war played itself out. Who knows what would have happened had we risked the exposure of our world. Still, it brought the Potters and Macnairs together on that particular issue."

Harry nodded. Macnair must have been talking about World War One. As bad as the war was, he could only imagine what would have happened if wizards had been involved as well.

"Well, I could go on about history until Christmas, you wanted to speak on the WEA?" Macnair said, and he took a sip.

"Right, I know you've got issues with the Wizarding Equality Act; I do too," Harry said, "I'm hoping we can somehow put together an amendment that enough people will agree with, without gutting the entire law."

"Is it possible Harry Potter has a traditionalist streak in him?" Macnair replied with a small smile, "would you go so far as to say you think people should be hired on merit alone?"

"I don't think that's what was happening before the WEA, and I don't think you do either," Harry replied.

Macnair didn't respond, so Harry continued.

"We need temporary exceptions for certain occupations, like Aurors," Harry said.

"That appears to be inconveniently self-serving," Macnair said, "everyone will say you're only asking for it because you're an Auror. What we need is an economic stimulus to get the unemployed back to work."

"You and I both know the budget situation of the Ministry; it's a complete non-starter. And it's not just because I'm an Auror," Harry said, "well… maybe it is. The DMLE is the one department that I have the most knowledge of. Look, we risk our lives every day to protect the rest of Britain, and now we're going in without full teams for possibly a year or more, it's not right."

Macnair placed his teacup back on the table.

"Unfortunately, politics these days has very little to do with right and wrong, Mr. Potter," Macnair said, "perhaps that's politics in general, actually."

"You've worked with the Wizengamot for years, and I know you want to amend the WEA. How can we get this passed?" Harry asked.

Macnair sighed and closed his eyes, thinking.

"There are many interest groups; you're not the only one who has expressed displeasure with the unintended side effects of the WEA," Macnair said as he re-established eye contact, "the problem is that once we open the law up to exceptions, everyone will want one. Frankly speaking, I do not have a problem with that, but a lot of members do, especially the ones who passed it in the first place. It's them we need to convince, probably by enticing some of the interested parties that they don't deserve exceptional status so they don't sabotage our efforts, which means we'll probably need to give them something."

"Like what?" Harry asked.

"Usually money," Macnair said, "but there are other ways."

"I'm really coming to hate politics, everyone has their hand out for something," Harry thought.

"Hmm. Interested parties like who?" Harry asked.

Macnair started counting on his fingers.

"Department of Mysteries says muggleborns don't have the grounding in magic that's necessary for their work, and have warned that fatalities will rise if they're forced to accept more," he said.

"Accidents and Catastrophes say that muggleborns don't have the stomach for the kinds of magical accidents they see, and they aren't able to accurately estimate what is truly an emergency or not," Macnair said, "though, maybe they could be bought off with funding for additional training for muggleborns. It's the same story with Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, and, believe it or not, the Daily Prophet."

Harry let his confusion show on his face.

"I told you, everyone wants exceptions," Macnair said.

"That's ridiculous, they don't actually need them," Harry said.

"That's neither here nor there, it's all about relative bargaining power," Macnair said.

Harry grumbled in frustration.

"Are there any organisations who actually need more muggleborns?" he asked, "maybe we could even things out."

"About the only one is Muggle Relations," Macnair said, "I don't think they have a single pureblood staff member."

"Right well, maybe we can start with a list of organisations together and see what we can figure out," Harry said.

They moved to Macnair's desk and spent the next hour sorting through different organisations and determining which ones they would propose allowing exemptions for. Finally, they had a few possible solutions laid out in front of them, and Harry downed the last of his now ice-cold tea.

"Well then… I guess the next step is to talk to the other Wizengamot members and figure out a way to get a majority," Harry said.

"Were it so easy," Macnair said, "it's the start of something though, Mr. Potter, and the start of something is better than nothing."

They stood up and shook hands, and Harry exited the office.

---

Harry shifted about in his seat. It almost seemed as if it was carved to be slightly uncomfortable, which wouldn't be surprising, considering a goblin had carved it for a wizard to sit in. He was once again in Ragnor's home; the goblin had insisted Harry make the trip to see him if he wanted to meet. The broken locket hung from a stand mounted in the centre of the wall opposite the entrance to the sitting room.

"Thank you for meeting so early," Harry said.

"It was necessary, as our schedules never seemed to align," the well-dressed goblin replied.

Harry nodded.

"I wanted to ask a favour, face to face," Harry said, "you know we're hunting the remaining Death Eaters. They're a danger to both wizards and goblins."

Ragnor nodded.

"We know they're stealing from muggles," Harry said, "but we haven't been able to trace what they're doing with the money. I asked Gringotts for help-"

"Ugluk has taken the reins of the bank," Ragnor replied, "the managers report to him. They will not help you."

"Yeah tell me about it," Harry said, "but if you could find out some information-"

"I cannot be seen as soft on wizards at this time. To undermine Ugluk in that way would undermine me, it is impossible," Ragnor said.

The goblin had raised his voice slightly, and Harry got the feeling the topic was sensitive, that there was more going on than Ragnok let on, but this was their best lead and he couldn't walk away without pressing a little.

"I don't even need to know any details, just whether any large muggle currency transactions have taken place recently," Harry said.

Ragnor smoothed his suit as he recomposed himself.

"And what then, Harry Potter?" Ragnor asked, "will you request that we identify or arrest the individuals? Gringotts transactions are confidential, it is one of the pillars upon which the reputation of the bank stands."

"Well…" Harry said, "if you could confirm that there are no large transactions, you wouldn't be revealing anything, and then we could search for them elsewhere."

"And if there were?" Ragnor asked.

"Then don't confirm anything, we'll look for them in Diagon, outside of Gringotts," Harry replied, "the goblins won't need to get involved, except to keep them from running inside the bank."

Ragnor looked unconvinced, so Harry decided to press him a bit more.

"They're criminals, who knows where they will attack next? They might even attack Gringotts to try and spark a conflict," Harry said.

"After last year, Gringotts is well prepared against a wizarding attack," Ragnar said.

Harry said nothing and simply held the goblin's gaze as Ragnor shifted uncomfortably in his higher chair.

"Very well, while I don't necessarily trust that you have our best interests at heart, Mr. Potter, I do trust that our interests align on this matter," Ragnor said, "expect my owl within the week."

"Thank you, Ragnor," Harry said, "with your help, hopefully we can catch them soon."

"Indeed, we will all sleep easier at night when Voldemort's stain is fully erased," Ragnor said.

They shook hands and Harry exited the dwelling-within-a-hill and into the fresh spring air outside Hogsmeade. He glanced over towards Hogwarts.

"Ginny is within walking distance," he thought, but he couldn't spare the time to see her; he was due at the Ministry in a few minutes.

He apparated home, then took the floo to the Ministry. These days, he barely noticed the reflecting pool in the Atrium, and he walked, mind occupied, to the lift and into the DMLE. After the team had finished off scouring the remaining casinos and made a show of closing up shop, Dawlish had reassigned them to stem the crime wave, which had continued to rise almost unabated since he'd started. The past two weeks had been filled with field calls and investigations, everything from multiple burglarized houses to an attempted revenge murder. A muggleborn whose family had died in Azkaban during Voldemort's reign tried to kill the family of the judge who sent them there. While Harry and his team had caught the murderer, a woman had been killed and now her two children were traumatised; the Ministry had had to place them with relatives who weren't locked away. Harry resolved to check on them to make sure they were okay, but a half-dozen other assignments waited for him and his team, and they had to complete their first Auror training refresher by the end of the month.

The muggleborn criminal had been sent to the middle section of Azkaban, below the dementors but close enough that their aura would eventually drain the vitality from him. It was ironic because he would be at the same section as the judge he'd wanted to hurt, along with the rest of the Ministry officials who had committed the most egregious abuses during Voldemort's reign. It was where Umbridge was housed. Harry's lip curled at the thought of the horrid woman, and he quickly tried to think of something else, like the mess of paperwork that awaited him once the current tsunami of crimes eased up a bit.

He stopped off at his desk and picked up a folder with the day's briefing in it, flipped through to make sure he was ready, then went to meet his team.

"Right," Harry said as he arrived at their briefing room and looked around, "where's Tammy?"

"Here," the athletic blonde said as she stifled a yawn as she entered, "sorry."

"Right," Harry said as she took her seat, "since they changed the laws on werewolves, a whole boatload of them have been coming here from Europe looking for work and wolfsbane potions."

He started handing out papers from the folder.

"Liz is on Azkaban today, Matt, you're with me. Ron and Tammy, you'll take these," Harry said.

"What are they?" Tammy asked as she looked over the photos and parchments.

"Business owners who have been discriminating against werewolves. They were levied fines by the Ministry and haven't paid, so we have reason to go and make some noise," Harry said, "we're not arresting anyone for that today, not unless they get violent. What we're looking for is an informal register of werewolves that's been circulating around, so they know who not to hire."

"These guys can't catch a break," Matt said as he looked over the list, "there's a lot of them here… looks like mostly from Britain, but there's Germany, France, Switzerland, Italy, Belgium, Austria, Bulgaria… where did they get it from?"

"Dawlish thinks someone from the Ministry leaked the list of wolfsbane potion recipients," Harry said.

"That's just wrong," Ron said.

"Damn right, and it's our job to find out where they got the list from," Harry said, "we're arresting anyone who has a copy and bringing them in to get them to talk and tell us who gave it to them. Any questions?"

The other three shook their heads.

"Alright, let's get moving," Harry said.

---

Try Macmillan.

That had been the reply from Winthrop on Harry's letter to him asking how they should go about passing expanded rights for Beings. So, Harry sat in one of the recess rooms attached to the Ministry courtrooms. The door currently lay wide open, revealing the empty courtroom beyond. The room was small but well lit, with only a simple wooden table and several chairs for private deliberations. A clock ticked quietly on the wall.

"Twelve thirty," Harry thought.

He was using his lunch break to meet with Angus Macmillan, Ernie's father and Wizengamot member, on potential expansion of goblin rights. Despite being a member of the sacred twenty-eight, the Macmillans were among the most progressive of pure-blooded families, right along with the Weasleys. Footsteps echoing from outside the room caught his attention, and Macmillan walked in wearing dark brown robes, his thick dirty blonde hair perfectly slicked back.

"Afternoon Lord Potter, have you taken your lunch?" Macmillan asked.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Macmillan, not yet," Harry replied politely, "and please, call me Harry."

"Very well Harry, call me Angus," Macmillan said as he took a seat at the table. A young man wearing Ministry robes entered and a pair of steaming plates of ravioli set themselves on the table, then withdrew and closed the door behind him. The enchantments on the room would ensure nobody overheard what they said.

"I thought we might have a working lunch; I know you're busy," Macmillan said.

Harry's stomach growled as the smell of rich tomato sauce hit his nostrils.

"I won't say no to that," Harry said as he sat down.

"Ernie asked how you're doing, he hopes you're well," Macmillan said.

"Oh, tell him I said hi, what's he doing these days?" Harry asked.

"Potions sales, good business," Macmillan replied.

"Oh," Harry said. That would be about the extent of his ability to engage in informed discourse on the subject, but luckily Macmillan was done with small talk.

"Word on the street is you're looking to amend the WEA," Macmillan said.

Harry nodded.

"We'd get this crime wave under control a lot faster, and catch the remaining Death Eaters, if we could get all the Auror teams to full strength," Harry said.

Macmillan nodded, but did not say anything.

"What are your thoughts on amending?" Harry asked.

"I'm not convinced the DMLE has done everything it can to work within the guidelines the law allows," Macmillan said, "my fear is if we start allowing departments to set their own quotas, the law will die a death of a thousand cuts, and we'll be right back where we started."

Harry could see Macmillan's point, and he did agree, it was a danger. But, he was also in the unique position of being both an Auror and a member of the Wizengamot, and he had first-hand knowledge of exactly how difficult it was becoming to maintain a semblance of law and order.

"Alright, we'll talk about that later," Harry said.

"Maybe in a few months when things really get out of hand, you'll change your mind," he thought, "and if they don't really get out of hand, then I guess I'll have to admit you were right."

"The real reason I asked to meet is because I want to do something about goblin rights," Harry said.

"That's interesting, considering the semi-antagonistic nature of your relationship with them, or is that merely sensationalist journalism?" Macmillan asked.

"A bit of both, really," Harry said, "but the point is, I've been looking into it, and I think they do have some legitimate grievances."

He rattled off the three that Ragnor had mentioned: wand magic, property rights, and Wizengamot representation.

"You can forget about wand magic," Macmillan said, "although I sympathise with them, I'm in the minority; wizard society simply isn't ready to teach anyone else the secrets of wand magic, much less the goblins, especially when a sizable number of them are still bitter about the last war. We shouldn't even bring that one up, and the same is true for Wizengamot membership."

"What about property rights then?" Harry asked.

Macmillan scratched his head.

"The main issue is one of supply," he said, "a lot of property was destroyed, and many wizards' accounts are drained after the recent conflict; the Ministry is short on galleons as well. The goblins were mostly insulated from the fighting, except for one or two… notable incidents."

Macmillan smirked at that, a reference to the previous year's break-in and subsequent escape via dragon. Harry tried to resist smiling and nearly succeeded.

"I don't understand, how is there a supply issue with so many empty homes?" Harry asked.

"I'm getting to that. If goblins were suddenly allowed to purchase property, with the gold they have, they would start purchasing en masse," Macmillan said, "we'd probably see an influx of gold from overseas as well, as we would be one of the few places goblins could purchase property. Wizards would be squeezed out, there would certainly be a backlash."

"What if we built more houses?" Harry asked, "that would keep the price down, and building of new homes would help improve the economy, right?"

He thought he'd read that somewhere.

"We could theoretically include a provision to build more housing, but in reality, it's not so simple," Macmillan replied, "we can't use magic to convince muggles to move away anymore; they have to be compensated fairly if we purchase any property from them."

Harry considered how easy it would be for wizards to free up muggle property to purchase and expand wizarding territory. The only thing stopping them before the Muggle Protection Act passed were possible Statute violations.

"Well, they should be compensated, it's only fair," Harry said.

"I agree with you, but the process is time consuming and expensive," Macmillan said.

"Oh," Harry said. Politics and economics seemed to have endless layers of complexity, and he was beginning to see why progress was so slow.

"What if…, what if we got the goblins to pay off muggles, and got them to pay to build the houses too… like, if we mandated houses had to be built with wizard contractors or something," Harry said.

"The goblins get the property, the muggles get compensated, the supply of housing increases, and some of that gold ends up in wizarding hands," Macmillan said, ticking off on his fingers, "hmm. the idea has merit."

"But… realistically?" Harry asked.

"The devil is in the details," Macmillan replied, "the goblins would have to agree, and you know they're going to negotiate hard, but the prospect of being able to buy wizarding property should be enough to lure them across the line. Then the question is, will they be willing to part with enough gold to convince enough of the Wizengamot to let them."

Two loud raps sounded on the door.

"Harry Potter has a letter," a muffled voice said.

Harry stood up and opened the door to admit a paper aeroplane. He unfolded it to see only a single line:

On the subject we spoke of, there is no further need to contact me.

Ragnor IV

Harry took a second to mentally decipher Ragnor's note.

"That's it then, the Death Eaters aren't exchanging the muggle pounds at Gringotts," Harry thought, "but… what are they doing with it?"

"Something serious?" Macmillan asked.

Harry folded the paper again and stuck it into his robes.

"Not really," Harry replied, "do you think you could talk to some of our colleagues in the Wizengamot, the ones who might be willing to listen? I'll try to reach out to the goblins."

He would have to give Kingsley a heads-up first before floating the idea to Ragnor; he didn't want to inadvertently cause a diplomatic incident.

"I can do that, certainly," Macmillan replied as he stood up, "I'm glad to see you're taking a more active role in politics, Lord Potter. Merlin knows the Wizengamot could use a breath of fresh air."

"It's only good if we can make something happen," Harry said.

Macmillan nodded. They shook hands and went their separate ways, Harry back up to the DMLE, and Macmillan to his office elsewhere in the Ministry.

---

"What's wrong Harry?" Liz asked as she stopped at the entrance of his cube.

Harry looked up from his parchment covered desk where he'd just been staring into space for what must have been at least a few minutes.

"Nothing," Harry replied, "I talked to Shawn earlier today."

"Still no chance of getting him in?" Liz asked.

Harry shook his head.

"And he asked to join the Sevens, him and Clark both. I had to tell them, again, that I have absolutely nothing to do with it but I don't think they believe me," Harry said.

"Keep this to yourself, but I'm getting a bit frustrated," Harry added quietly, "and I know he is too, and honestly, I don't blame him."

"We have to change the law, but…" he said, then sighed. The negotiations he'd started with Macnair hadn't gone horribly, but hadn't gone well enough they'd be able to bring it to a vote anytime soon.

Liz glanced left and right, then took a step into his cube.

"A lot of people think it's bullshit," she said quietly, "the law."

"I know, I'm working on it," Harry said.

"I didn't mean-" Liz said, but she was interrupted by a letter zooming around the corner and landing on Harry's desk.

"Skeeter, what does she want?" Harry said, but as he opened it, he shot to his feet.

7's told me to be at 3620 Crescent Lane in Chudley

RS

"Matt's on Azkaban today," Harry thought as he dropped the letter onto his desk. Liz glanced down at it and her eyes widened.

"Get Tammy," Harry said, "expecto patronum."

His silvery stag burst forth, casting light over the entire cube farm.

"Find Ron, tell him meet us at the Auror floo in Chudley," Harry said.

Liz's vixen appeared in a silvery white glow just as Harry's stag vanished.

"Find Tammy, tell her to drop whatever she's doing and meet at the Auror floo in Chudley," she said. Her patronus shot up into the ceiling.

Harry grabbed the letter and ignored the questioning stares from other Aurors. He picked up a map from Records on the way to the lift. Harry jammed the button repeatedly even though he knew it didn't do anything to get them to the floo any faster. He and Liz arrived in Chudley first, Tammy and Ron arrived while Harry pored over the map.

"Right," he said as he passed the letter to Tammy and Ron, then put the map against the wall. Tammy and Ron put their heads together as they read Skeeter's script.

"Bloody hell, they took someone else down?" Ron asked.

"I don't know, but it's a good bet it'll be a bloody field day with the press there," Harry said.

He wished Matt was available; there was nothing like having a large, intimidating Auror to work crowd control.

"So two things, secure the scene, get the press out of there, and keep the muggles away and unaware anything unusual is going on," Harry said, "we're about five hundred metres away, err… that way."

He pointed in what he thought was the direction of Crescent Lane.

"Merlin, I hope we don't have to call the obliviators," Harry thought. It meant extra paperwork, and having to rely on them too much was considered a stain on your record.

They all disillusioned themselves and stepped out onto the brilliant spring sun. The building they exited from was old and abandoned, made of stone, the kind with moss growing all over it. A low stone wall, probably centuries old, ran across a field in front of them and was neatly bisected by a modern blacktop road.

The Aurors jogged down the road as the wind stirred the grass and trees and blew through Harry's hair; it really was a glorious day, and he found himself lamenting that they had such serious work ahead of them. He found the house, a stand-alone structure on a decent size plot of land. Several trees dotted the area, and it was a beautiful property, even though the grass hadn't been cut in some time. Harry called for a halt about thirty metres away.

"Liz, check how many," Harry said.

"Hominem revelio," she whispered, and Harry felt the telltale tingle wash over him.

"Just two," she whispered.

"Thank Merlin for small miracles; probably Skeeter and her photographer, Winfield," Harry said, "Tammy and Liz, go 'round the back, Ron and I will go in the front door."

Harry gave the girls a minute to get into position, then he tapped the disillusioned Ron on the shoulder, and the two of them crept up to the house. The front door was left slightly ajar, darkness showing from the crack between it and the jamb.

"Aurors, anybody home?" Harry called loudly.

"I'm with the Daily Prophet," a man's voice called, "we're in the cellar."

Harry thought he recognized the voice, and heard the faint click of a camera.

"What's your name?" Harry asked.

"Graham Winfield. And my security," Winfield replied, "is that you Potter?"

Harry narrowed his eyes.

"Yes, where did you get injured when we were attacked outside Andromeda Tonks' cottage?" Harry asked.

"In the left shoulder," Winfield replied, followed by another camera click.

Harry nudged the door open and let his disillusionment drop. The house was abandoned; the walls and floors were bare, but the place wasn't messy; on the contrary, the rooms had obviously been swept, and there wasn't much dust at all.

"All clear, Liz, Tammy, come on in," Harry said.

They quickly found the cellar and clumped down the steps. The first thing Harry saw was the body in the centre of the concrete floor, long brown hair splayed out on the concrete floor. A ball of magical light hovered in the centre of the ceiling, casting dark shadows from the metal support beams that stood in the middle of the room. Winfield stood to one side of the body, and brought his camera up to snap a flash photo of the Aurors as they descended.

"Enough Winfield, you shouldn't be here, it could have been a trap," Harry said, "where's your security?"

"Over here," a casual voice from the far side of the room said, "and relax Potter, I made sure it was safe."

Shawn Davis stepped out from where he'd been concealed next to one of the shelves that lined two walls of the cellar.

"Shawn!" Liz said.

"Hey everyone, where's that troll, Wilson?" Shawn asked.

"Azkaban patrol," Liz replied.

"Can't say I envy you lot there," Shawn said, with a small grimace.

Another camera flash went off.

"Winfield, this is a crime scene, last warning, no more photos or I'll kick you out," Harry said.

The reporter nodded and slung his camera over his shoulder, then pulled out a quill and a small pad of paper from his satchel.

"It's definitely the Sevens again," Shawn said as Harry approached the body, a young woman, less than ten years older than himself, with long, brown hair. Even from the steps he could see the bloody double-seven lightning bolt symbol carved into her forehead.

"Shawn, you're working as security?" Tammy asked quietly.

"Dawlish still won't hire me, and while I can amuse myself almost indefinitely, it's getting pretty boring waiting around," Shawn replied.

Harry heard the undercurrent of bitterness in his voice, and he didn't blame him. It really was a shit situation he'd been put in, and through no fault of his own.

"Anyone know who this is?" Harry asked as he gestured to the body.

He looked around to find Shawn staring at his forehead.

"Still think I had something to do with this?" Harry asked.

Shawn looked to Winfield.

"Do I get a bonus if I say yes?" he asked.

The photographer snorted. Shawn shook his head.

"But the cut does look like your scar," Shawn said.

"It's Lea Zantor," Liz said, "she's one of the Snatchers on the run. Was."

"Ah right, she's wanted for using the Cruciatus," Ron said, "yeah, that's definitely her."

"We still need a blood sample, just to be sure," Harry said.

"Check the wound on her arm, I'm pretty sure they drained almost all her blood," Shawn said as he pointed to the small cut, almost an incision, on her forearm.

"We only need a drop," Harry said.

"Again with the blood. What's going on?" he thought. It was something to consider later.

"Do you have the original letter?" Harry asked Winfield.

"Rita says you'll have to come down to the Prophet to retrieve it," Winfield replied, "she said she doesn't trust the owl delivery service."

Winfield shrugged helplessly and Harry grit his teeth. It was going to mean another meeting with the Prophet's lead reporter, something he wasn't looking forward to.

"Right, everyone fan out, see if we can find any additional clues," Harry said.

The Aurors split up, several balls of light lit up the entire room light it was noon, while Harry knelt down to inspect the body. It couldn't have been dead for more than a few hours.

"Maybe there's a way to trace back where the letter came from, if I can get it to the DMLE," Harry thought, but even as he came up with the idea, he assigned it a very low probability of success. Whoever was behind the Sevens was very good at covering their tracks.

"So, what do you think?" Shawn asked as he leaned over next to Harry.

Harry shook his head.

"It doesn't make sense," he replied as he reached out to close the eyes of the recently deceased young woman.

"Any word from Dawlish?" Shawn asked quietly.

Harry shook his head.

"Well, offer still stands, if you need me…" Shawn said.

Harry looked over at the talented would-be pureblood Auror and nodded.

---

Harry placed the letter on Dawlish's desk.

"They sent this to the Prophet, to tell them where the body was," Harry said, "Skeeter informed me… we can cross Lea Zantor off the list."

"Zantor?" Dawlish replied, "I was just about to inform you, we managed to get a tracker put on her and Scabior to find out where they're delivering the muggle cash."

Harry's eyebrows furrowed.

"Do you think it's related?" Harry asked.

"Possibly.? The timing is suspicious, but if the Sevens are led by a Death Eater, or someone within their organisation, why go to all the trouble?" Dawlish replied.

Harry chewed his lip in thought. He felt like the puzzle was coming together, but he was still missing a critical piece.

"What about Scabior?" Harry asked.

"Gone missing," Dawlish replied, "these are the locations we tracked him to yesterday before he vanished."

"Wonder if he'll turn up with a lightning bolt cut into his forehead too," Harry muttered.

"One can only hope," Dawlish replied.

Harry glanced up at Dawlish, surprised at the moment of unfiltered candour from the Head Auror.

"Sir, shouldn't we be going after them?" Harry asked, "they're definitely up to something, trying to tie themselves to me somehow."

Dawlish sighed and folded his hands on his desk.

"That's a tall order," Dawlish asked, "they haven't left any clues as to who they are, except for who they're hunting, and the number of people who hate Death Eaters and Snatchers might as well be the entire country; where would we even start? Plus, they're not exactly creating victims. I sympathise with you Potter, but they're simply not a priority right now."

Harry nodded. It made sense, even if he knew in his gut nothing good was going to come of leaving them free to operate, not to mention how he personally wanted to solve the riddle of the Sevens.

Dawlish scribbled a few addresses on a piece of parchment.

"These are the general areas of the locations where Scabior visited yesterday, take a look and see if you can find anything. And keep it quiet," Dawlish said.

Harry nodded, then went to find Ron at his cube.

"How did it go?" Ron asked.

Harry shook his head.

"No luck, but we do have a lead, come on, I'll fill you in on the way," Harry said.

They arrived via floo into one of the Ministry's safe exits.

"The trackers had to triangulate the position of the target, so they didn't have any exact addresses, but Scabior visited a few places in London," Harry said.

They stepped out of a closed shoe repair shop, the exit of the DMLE floo. They did their best to retrace Scabior's steps from the addresses they'd been given, but had no luck at all with the first three areas on the list.

"What are we looking for?" Ron asked as they walked through the late afternoon across muggle London from one address to the next.

"I'm not sure, something…" Harry said, then he squinted as he saw a neon sign farther down the road, "something like that."

The blinking yellow light advertised currency exchange and cash for gold.

"Merlin's balls," Ron muttered as he caught sight of it.

They entered into the cramped shop with the metal gate above the desk, protection for the clerks. An electronic board showed shifting exchange rates for various currencies and gold.

"Hi, err, did you see this bloke come through here yesterday?" Harry asked as he pulled out a black and white photo of Scabior.

The overweight brown skinned man behind the counter waved his hand at Harry.

"He owe you money, talk to him, we just exchange," he said in accented English, "you want to exchange, we can talk, otherwise you go."

Harry glanced around the shop and noted the camera pointing down at the counter. He took a step back towards the door to get underneath it.

"Right, okay," Harry said as he returned the photo to his pocket and drew his wand.

"Confundo," Harry said as he aimed his wand at one of the clerks.

"What?" Ron said, but he drew his wand in a fluid motion anyway.

"Confundo," Ron said, tagging the other clerk. Both of them stood there looking around with glazed expressions.

"Obscuro," Harry said, and a blindfold covered the lens of the camera.

"Colloportus," Harry said, locking the front door, "come on. Alohomora."

The door to the counter clicked open. Harry squeezed by the two clerks, nudging them to sit down into their seats as he passed. He stunned them both with wordless stupefy spells then moved towards the back office.

"Alohomora," Harry said again, and the door popped open to reveal another brown skinned worker. He pulled a nearby phone off the hook when Harry's third stupefy knocked him out too.

"Are you alright?" Ron asked.

"Yeah, they'll be fine," Harry said as he walked past a closed safe and sat down at the security console.

"I meant you, what are you doing?" Ron asked.

Harry didn't respond as he hit the eject button console and picked up the video cassette tape it spat out, then picked out the one labelled the previous afternoon from a nearby shelf. He opened the case and placed the cassette into the machine, which gobbled it up with a whir of gears.

"Make sure they stay out," Harry said as he pressed buttons, trying to figure out how to work the security console. It took a few attempts, but eventually he got the video to display on one of the screens and started fast forwarding through the footage.

"Is that from yesterday?" Ron asked.

"Yeah," Harry said, "Ron look! We got him, he was here!"

Harry reversed the video and pointed. Ron shoved the worker unceremoniously onto the floor and sat in the seat next to Harry.

"Bloody hell, it is him," Ron said as they watched Scabior enter the shop. The video was only one frame every few seconds, but it was clear what he was doing.

"He's exchanging the muggle currency for gold," Ron said.

"Yeah," Harry said, "…that's a lot of gold. What do they need that much for?"

"I dunno, but it's got to be big," Ron said.

He and Ron looked at each other, and Harry saw his own confusion and apprehension reflected in his best friend's expression as the security video continued playing, showing the missing Snatcher load up several heavy metal bars into his black bag and walk out of the shop.