Harry Potter is owned by JKR
Chapter 47
Harry took a deep breath, then stepped through the floo and into Andromeda's deserted living room.
"Harry, is that you?" she called from the kitchen.
"HaaWa!" Teddy said, his method of calling Harry's name.
Harry crossed the carpeted floor and stepped around the kitchen doorway. Teddy sat in a high chair with his bowl of diced baby food, and Andromeda, barefoot and wearing muggle jeans with a grey t-shirt, hair pulled back in a simple ponytail, held a plastic baby spoon to him to take another bite. The toddler pushed it out of the way and held his hands up towards Harry.
"Eat first, play later," Andromeda said as she held the spoon out again.
Harry sat down next to Teddy, opposite Andromeda. The toddler's hair turned jet black as Andromeda held the spoon out to Harry. He took it, turned it around, and tucked it neatly into Teddy's mouth.
"I'm not going to apologise," Andromeda said as Harry scooped up another half spoonful of mashed Teddy-food.
"You're not going to apologise for showing up at my house unannounced and blasting pieces of it to bits?" Harry asked with a pleasant smile as he held the spoon out for Teddy again, "ahhh."
Teddy mimicked Harry and opened his mouth, and Harry tucked the spoon in again.
"I'll pay for the repairs-" Andromeda said, and Harry waved her off. The cost of the repairs was the last thing on his mind.
"I'm not going to pretend I know what it's like, her being your sister and killing Tonks," Harry said, "I met Bellatrix when she was Julia White though, so I guess I know this version better… and she saved Hermione's life. She's not the same. You can't hold it against her like you would the woman who killed Sirius and everything else. That woman died at the Battle of Hogwarts."
Andromeda shook her head.
"Don't be fooled; underneath all that is the same Bellatrix who murdered my daughter. My only daughter, Teddy's mum, in case you've forgotten," Andromeda said.
Harry grimaced as Teddy reached out for the spoon. Bellatrix Lestrange was the reason it was he and Andromeda feeding Teddy today, instead of Tonks. Harry let Teddy try to take a bite himself, with marginal success as some of it missed his mouth. Teddy threw the spoon down and picked up a few pieces of soft carrot with his fingers, and stuck them into his mouth to munch happily.
"If I believed that, she'd still be in Azkaban right now," Harry said, "you sat at a table with her a few months ago, did you have any inkling who she was?"
"It doesn't matter," Andromeda said, "there are some things which are simply unforgivable."
She frowned, and perhaps it was her clothing, as casual as Harry had ever seen her, but he palpably felt the nearly unimaginable suffering and loss radiating from the woman as she looked down at the table, her silver flecked eyes slightly glassy with unspilled tears.
"I know I can't control what you do with her," Andromeda said quietly, "my focus is on raising this child. She will not come anywhere near him."
Harry understood her meaning, and it wasn't a suggestion; she wanted him to keep Bellatrix away from Teddy and herself. He opened his mouth to agree, but a pair of loud knocks sounded at the front door. Harry twisted in his seat to look over his shoulder and then back at Andromeda.
"Were you expecting someone?" he asked.
She shook her head, and Harry drew his wand as he moved to the living room, Andromeda a few steps behind. He peeked out the front window to see a very familiar salt-and-pepper haired individual, the former Head Auror.
"What…" Harry muttered, "it's John Dawlish."
Andromeda looked back at him with a neutral expression, and Harry pulled the door open.
"Sir?" he asked.
Dawlish's eyes widened in surprise for half a second.
"Potter? Shouldn't you be at work?" he asked.
"Lunch break, what are you doing here?" Harry asked.
"Checking up on… Mrs. Tonks," Dawlish said, "after the… incident at your home."
"You heard about that?" Harry asked.
Dawlish held his hands up in a helpless gesture.
"Word gets around," he replied.
"Come on in John," Andromeda said as she pulled the door open wider, "we're just feeding Teddy lunch."
"John?" Harry thought.
Dawlish crossed the threshold, right through the blood wards, and Harry gave him a questioning glance.
"We've known each other a long time," Dawlish said.
"Since Hogwarts," Andromeda said over her shoulder.
Dawlish nodded and Harry followed, somewhat in disbelief; he had had no idea.
"Also, you don't need to call me sir, anymore," Dawlish said quietly.
They stopped near the doorway in the kitchen as Andromeda continued feeding Teddy.
"You can't do that again Andy," Dawlish said, "you're going to get yourself arrested. In fact, I'm surprised charges haven't been filed."
"Bellatrix refused to," Harry said as pointedly ignored the easy familiarity Andromeda and Dawlish had with one another.
Andromeda shook her head.
"I already told Harry, I'm not going to apologise," she said.
Harry's wand vibrated in his hand.
"Bollocks, I've got to go," he said, "err… we'll talk more later. Bye Teddy."
"Haa Waa," Teddy replied.
Harry stepped forward to plant a kiss on Teddy's head and gave him a high five, then realised it was probably a mistake as he got mashed peas on his palm for his effort. He left Dawlish and Andromeda to continue discussing and flooed back to Grimmauld. As he stepped out of the fireplace, Harry's thoughts turned to the possibility of Dawlish being involved somehow with Andromeda; they obviously had history he was unaware of.
A handy-wizard had been by in the morning to repair the damaged staircase, window, and bedroom door, and now the house was as good as new. Kreacher appeared with a pop, bearing a plate with a sandwich on top of it.
"Master Harry has returned," the house elf said.
"Thanks Kreacher," Harry said as he picked up the sandwich. With his other hand, he tossed a handful of powder into the fireplace.
"Auror Training Ground C," he said, and stepped through.
Crisp September air greeted him as he stepped out of the arrival floo hut. Harry scarfed down his sandwich as he walked the path towards the training field, where about three dozen Aurors gathered beneath the late summer sun. On the way, he shook hands with Jenkins and Robinson, two of the other lieutenants in the Corps.
"Any idea what this is about?" Harry asked.
"Equipment demonstration, courtesy of Minister Winthrop," Jenkins replied.
Mackenzie, Harry's former trainer, stepped out in front of the group and they quieted down.
"Right, your feedback on this is going to be critical, so pay attention," the dark-haired trainer said, "Minister Winthrop has proposed funding for single use blood wards. Technically, as an injury is required to activate them, they are considered Dark magic, but he wants our opinion on requesting an exception."
Mackenzie produced a small coin, about the size of a sickle, and held it up for everyone to see.
"There is a small pin embedded on one side of the token, and a ward rune on the other," Mackenzie said, "you open the pin, prick your finger to release some blood, and smear it on the stone, then place it down."
He followed his own instructions, then set the coin in the grass. It glowed pink for a second, and a transparent blue ward sprang up, slightly concave, about five feet across; enough for two Aurors to take cover behind it. A low murmur swept through the crowd.
"Anchored to the coin, it is two-way, blocking spells and objects from all sides, and cannot be cast through," Mackenzie said, "since there is only one small anchor, it will not last long."
Mackenzie stepped to where nobody would be in the line of fire, then levelled reductors at it until the ward spiderwebbed, then collapsed completely into nothingness. The Auror trainer stepped forward and picked up the blackened and ruined coin.
"Any questions?" Mackenzie asked.
"When can we get them issued?" someone asked.
"Prototypes are available now. If funding is approved, they could be issued to everyone later this year," Mackenzie replied.
The group buzzed with excitement. The response was overwhelmingly positive, and soon, Aurors started apparating or taking the floo back to Headquarters for a scheduled all-hands announcement from Robards. Harry spotted Mackenzie alone on the field and walked up to him.
"Morning Potter. What did you think of the demonstration?" Mackenzie asked.
"It's bloody brilliant, but I suppose how many we get depends on cost," Harry said.
The other lieutenant let out a sharp bark of a laugh.
"Isn't that always the way," Mackenzie said, "between the outreach program and the obliviators, next year's budget is going to be interesting."
Harry furrowed his brow.
"What do you mean?" he asked.
Mackenzie paused for a second.
"You know about Winthrop's Being outreach program?" he asked.
Harry shook his head.
"Aren't you on the wizengamot? And it was in the papers. He diverted some of the discretionary budget fund to purchase building materials… a group of students fresh out of school is constructing homes for disadvantaged muggles," Mackenzie said.
"Okay…" Harry replied, but his thoughts immediately went to the proposal to allow goblins to purchase property. The vote was scheduled for later that same week, and if it passed, there would soon be a demand for wizards skilled in construction. It seemed like Winthrop might be getting a head start… and Harry wasn't quite sure how he felt about that.
"Then again, building homes for muggles who wouldn't otherwise be able to afford one probably isn't a bad thing," Harry thought.
"Good idea, right?" Mackenzie said, as if he were following Harry's line of thinking, "Unfortunately, it means there's extra coverup work for the obliviators; they're working more and more overtime these past few weeks."
"To ensure there isn't a wide Statute breach," Harry said with a nod, "I can't really fault him for helping people who wouldn't otherwise have a roof over their heads though."
Mackenzie nodded as he packed up the remaining ward coins into a black satchel.
"True, true, but the Statute isn't just a rule, it's also very old, very deep magic. It exists because it's maintained. Too many breaches, and it unravels, and all those magical creatures muggles can't see?" Mackenzie said, and he made a circular motion with his hands, then snapped his fingers, "maybe they're not so invisible anymore."
"So we hire more," Harry said, but Mackenzie rubbed a thumb and his first two fingers together, indicating that more obliviators would require more gold, "which leads back to the budget, I get it."
"If we could hammer it out with the goblins though…" Harry thought.
The hawk-nosed Auror trainer looked around at the deserted field.
"Looks like we're the last ones," Mackenzie said, "let's see what Robards has to say."
Acting Head Auror Robards had been appointed temporarily to his position by Rebecca Fawley after Dawlish's resignation, and he had immediately taken up his former boss' office. Harry kept his distaste to himself as appeared in the fireplace at Auror HQ and walked with Mackenzie. They parted ways when Harry slipped into his cubicle. A few Aurors congregated near the front, by the offices, where a small platform had been set up. Harry stayed by his desk, just behind Ron's; he didn't want to get any closer to Robards than absolutely necessary. The slightly overweight acting Head Auror appeared from the hallway leading to his office and stepped up to the platform. The quiet buzz of discussion settled down as he pointed his wand at his throat.
"Just a small announcement to make this afternoon," Robards said, his voice reverberating around the DMLE, "the new Minister has agreed to return Azkaban to the custody of the dementors. Our last patrol is Sunday evening."
A moment of silence followed the announcement, and then applause and a few whoops broke out. Robards raised a hand in acknowledgement, then stepped off the stage and vanished it; it appeared he'd only conjured it to make this statement. The applause died down to excited whispers and sounds of relief from the gathered Auror corps.
"Sweet, no more Azkaban patrols," Ron said as he twisted around in his seat.
"Yeah, that'll be a relief," Harry said. It would be a welcome development for everyone except the prisoners in the lower security sections of Azkaban.
"He took all the credit, because of course he did," Harry thought. As he looked around though, Harry couldn't find a single unhappy face.
"At least I'll have more time to focus on the bloody economic stimulus package," he thought.
Even as he thought it, a paper airplane zoomed around the corner and landed on his desk. He unfolded and flattened it out.
Council voted in favour of passage. Ugluk lodged a complaint, due to lack of blood payment, but does not have votes to block.
~Fenlok, Goblin Liason
Harry stood up again and pumped a fist. Weeks of negotiations back and forth, meeting with revenue and zoning committees to determine the specifics of payments and identifying where the goblins would be allowed to purchase, and scores of messages passed between Ragnar IV, Fenlok, Harry, Percy, and Macmillan had led to this. Ugluk the Bold had been adamant that Wizarding Britain repay blood with blood, but apparently the allure of being able to purchase wizarding dwellings, even in a limited fashion, was enough to convince the majority of the goblin nobles to go along. Now it was up to the wizengamot to pass the same trade package, and then Winthrop could sign it into law.
"Good news?" Ron asked.
"The goblins agreed, it's up to us to pull enough votes together now, and then we can get started," Harry said, "any leads on who's selling Bertie Botts every flavoured weed to the muggles?"
Ron shook his head.
"Nobody knows anything," he replied.
Harry figured as much. There's a reason why Dumbledore kept Mundungus Fletcher around; the man was shady, but he had his finger on the pulse of what was going on in the underworld, both wizarding and muggle.
"I'll see what I can find out," Harry said, "plans for the weekend?"
"Gonna head to my parents'," Ron replied, "you?"
Normally he would try to spend time with Ginny, but she was traveling with the Hollyhead Harpies as alternate chaser.
"Going to try and see if I can crack this case," Harry said, "no rest for the weary."
Ron snorted.
"Good luck," he said.
"Tell your folks I said hi," Harry said.
An hour later, wearing muggle jeans and a t-shirt, Harry exited the Tube, and then hailed a very fragrant cabbie to take him the rest of the way to the suburban university town where he'd met Dudley a few months back. He stepped out into a self-contained bubble of brick buildings, manicured lawns, and tree lined lanes. It probably would be quite prestigious looking during the day, but at night, danger seemed to lurk in the shadows of every bush and doorway. An early autumn breeze caused him to shiver, and gooseflesh sprung up on his exposed arms. Harry stuck his hands in his pockets and walked a wide path towards the football and rugby fields. On the way, he spotted a shop selling uni apparel, and bought a grey hoodie to both keep himself warm and blend in with the students. He checked his phone for the SMS Dudley had sent earlier in the week.
Honour House.
Harry stopped at a crossroads, turned left, then spun a one-eighty to look the other way.
"No bloody signs," he thought. He spotted one of the uni students walking the opposite direction, a lanky bloke wearing a similar school sweatshirt.
"Excuse me… could you tell me where Honour House is?" Harry asked.
"It's off campus mate," the student replied, "that way."
He pointed back the way Harry came, wonderful.
Harry backtracked a few minutes and as he reached the edge of campus, he spotted it across the street. Thumping bass now thrummed from the squat three story building. Harry stepped up to the front stoop where he was greeted by a clipboard wielding heavyset young dark-haired man sitting on a stool, and wearing a backwards baseball cap.
"Name?" he asked.
"Err… Harry. Dudley invited me," Harry replied. The student flipped a few pages, then motioned for Harry to step inside.
The smell of stale beer washed over him and he swore the pungent odour attempted to permeate his skin; Harry tried to refrain from pulling a face. The entire first floor was open; Harry could see clear to the kitchen and out a back door which led to a yard in the rear of the building. Two beer pong tables had been set up and several students already played, tossing ping-pong balls back and forth. Against the far wall, in front of the kitchen, a long counter served as a bar, and Harry noticed a few metal beer kegs parked off to one side. Wooden steps by another wall led up to the second story. Harry stepped deeper into the room; it was already warmer than outside, and given the number of students crowding the floor, with more coming in behind him, it would only get hotter. A pair of girls wearing midriff baring shirts and short skirts walked by, and Harry caught his head turning as they passed. Thumping music blasted from speakers almost as tall as he was; he would nearly have to shout to be heard. He looked around for Dudley, but didn't spot him. Instead, he noticed a queue near the bar in the rear, where a bloke poured drinks with a ladle, and students came away as white smoke bubbled out of their plastic cups. Curious, Harry stepped in line.
"Oi, you need a brain juice top up?" someone behind him asked.
Harry looked over his shoulder to see two blokes behind him.
"Yeh," the one closer to him said. They exchanged cash for a vial of yellowish liquid.
"What you lookin' at?" the taller one asked as he stared at Harry.
"Nothing," Harry replied as he turned around again.
A few minutes later and a large ladle dipped into a literal oversized trash bin, then spilled dark purple liquid into a cheap plastic cup and was set on the counter. What could only have been a rugby player, given the size of the man, used a pair of small tweezers to drop a few pieces of what looked like ice into it, but they immediately started bubbling and spewing white smoke that overflowed drifted down to the counter. Harry picked it up and the cup vibrated in his hand as the large bubbles formed and burst at the surface, releasing the white smoke. He took a sip, and he knew the sweet, fruity concoction must have been mixed with alcohol, but he could barely taste it.
"Hey Pothead, nice shirt!"
Harry turned to see Dudley, wearing a backwards baseball cap, a fully open red button-down over a white tee, walking towards him.
"You made it," Dudley said as he clapped Harry on the back harder than was strictly necessary, "what do you think of the bog water?"
"Bog water?" Harry asked as he swirled his cup.
"That's what we call it," Dudley said, "secret formula, but it's good, right?"
Harry nodded his agreement as he took another sip and already felt a slight buzz kicking in. He let Dudley show him around the house he rented with nine other rugby players. The entire first floor was an open space, dimly lit except for the kitchen, which practically radiated fluorescent white. Beyond that, in the rear yard, a small covered rear patio played host to a small stakes card game. Dudley was apparently popular here, as other large guys fist bumped him as he passed, and everyone else made way for him as he led Harry around. Even after finishing the tour of the first floor, the house was already noticeably more crowded, and the mood was celebratory as they'd won a game earlier in the day. It reminded Harry of the Gryffindor post-match parties, though with people crammed closer together, and without any magical fireworks of course.
"Do you know all these people?" Harry asked as his eyes followed a long-haired blonde with a backless top as she walked past him. She smiled at him and he quickly looked back to Dudley.
"Not all of them, why, interested in anyone?" his cousin asked as he waggled his eyebrows.
Harry shook his head and his cousin laughed.
"I don't blame you, your girl's fuckin' smoking," Dudley said. Harry had to agree with him. Eventually they made their way up the rickety steps to the second story. Harry realised he wasn't really talking much; his mind kept going back to the 'brain juice'…
"How did they make it bubble like that?" Harry asked as he looked at his cup, half empty and no longer smoking.
"The bog water? Dry ice," Dudley replied.
They squeezed by a smiling couple moving in the opposite direction; a door slammed behind them, and Harry realised they'd just ducked into a room.
"And this is my room," Dudley said as he unlocked the door and led them inside, but Harry's mind remained on the small vial he'd seen.
"What's brain juice?" Harry asked.
"Eh?" Dudley said, visibly confused at the sudden change in topic, "oh, everyone's doin' it. Helps you study. Got me through exams last week."
Dudley threw his keys on a counter, then opened a mini fridge and pulled out a bottle of beer and twisted off the cap. He held it out to Harry, who accepted, and Dudley pulled out a second one for himself. Harry took a swig and looked around the mess of the room; the carpet looked like it hadn't been vacuumed in months, but the rest of the room appeared moderately clean, could definitely have been worse.
"You have any? Brain juice I mean," Harry asked. Now Dudley screwed up his face as if trying to figure Harry out.
"Uhhh, think I still have one left over," Dudley replied.
His cousin moved to the dresser and rummaged about, then came away with a similar looking vial of yellow liquid as the one Harry had seen downstairs.
"You mind?" Harry asked as he held out a hand. Dudley shrugged and held it out to him, and Harry unstoppered it to take a long sniff. It was weak, but the scent immediately triggered unpleasant memories of Snape's potions class.
"Memory solution," he thought.
"Can I keep this?" Harry asked as he re-stoppered it.
"Uh, no? That cost me thirty quid," Dudley said. Harry fished out his wallet and pulled out a fifty to hand to his cousin.
"Why do you need it, anyway?" Dudley asked as he stuffed the bill into his pocket.
"Pretty sure it's made by one of our lot," Harry replied as he stowed the vial in his pouch, beneath his shirt, "where'd you get it?"
"Oh no no no, I told you, those little poppers are the only reason I got through exams," Dudley said, "I may be a lot of things, but I'm not about to sell out my supplier. And don't you go fucking up a good thing, either."
Harry knew his cousin wouldn't talk any more on the subject, so he dropped it. They returned downstairs, where the heat was now stifling and the floor was packed with muggles dancing and drinking. The bog water had run out, replaced by bottles of hard liquor and mixers, and plenty of beer still flowed. As it had grown chilly outside, the windows and walls glistened and dripped with moisture from condensation. Harry thought about dancing a little bit, but his mind turned to Ginny, so he wandered about, nursed his drink, and watched. At least two more people buying brain juice or something similar, that he saw. When a bloke did a hand stand on top of a keg and drank directly from the tap, Harry knew it was time to depart. The cold autumn night air shocked his skin as he stepped out the front door. He pulled up the hood of his sweatshirt, but just as he was about to walk and find somewhere secluded to apparate, he caught the distinct scent of butterbeer. He followed his nose through the narrow side yard to the rear of the building and peeked around the corner. The card game had long since ended, and several uni students sat around the card table with a small flickering gas lamp set in the centre, and took turns passing a small pipe around.
"Bertie Botts every flavour weed. They're selling everything here, whoever is behind this," Harry thought, "and if they're selling here, why not other schools…could be every university in England."
All of their attempts to learn anything about the weed had come to nothing. While the Ministry of Magic maintained ties with the very top of muggle government authorities, the DMLE had almost no contacts in the muggle criminal underworld.
"In fact, if it wasn't for Dung, we wouldn't know anything at all," Harry thought.
He retreated towards the main road, intent on submitting the vial of memory solution to the Tracers first thing the following morning.
The Firebolt is fantastic, I'm hoping to start a game or two this year, wouldn't that be brilliant?
Harry smiled as he read Ginny's note, and recalled her expression when she'd opened his birthday gift to her: a brand new Firebolt of her own, custom designed to her height and weight.
"You can do it!" Harry wrote.
The sound of Winthrop tapping the globe on his podium snapped him back to attention.
"Motion seconded, all in favour of passing Economic Stimulus Program 199909334?" the Minister of Magic asked.
Harry put his hand up and glanced around as the vote was tallied. Malfoy and Nott's seats were again empty, while Andromeda filled the Black seat and voted with him, as did a good three quarters of the Wizengamot. With both Macnair and Macmillan respectively pushing for its passage from both the economic and Being rights corners, the legislation sailed through.
"Not that it wasn't a hard-fought battle to get here," Harry thought. More than a month of wrangling between Macnair and Macmillian's camps preceded the vote, but with Winthrop's signature, it would be law; once it took effect, goblins would be allowed to purchase limited wizarding properties, each one offset by a new dwelling unit built, partially funded by goblin gold, and built by approved wizard contractors.
"All against?" Winthrop asked, "Motion passes. Scribe, please note the date and time. This body is adjourned until the next regular session."
The globe reverberated around the room, and Arthur turned to Harry.
"Congratulations, I know you were involved in this one," he said.
"Thanks, it wasn't easy," Harry said.
"It's a step in the right direction, and that's something," Arthur replied.
A flash went off in Harry's face; the press had descended to the Wizengamot floor in record time.
"Mr. Potter! Any comments on your latest legislative success?"
"The credit goes to Macnair and Macmillian," Harry replied, "I only facilitated, but I should say it's a boon to the country to have such seasoned politicians who are willing to put aside their differences to compromise, come together, and do what is right."
"What's next for you Mr. Potter?"
"Back to work," Harry said as he stripped off his plum robes to reveal Auror blues beneath. The press chuckled at that and Harry made his way back to the DMLE. At his desk, he found an envelope from Parkins, the Tracer. It was what he'd been waiting for. Harry tore at the parchment and quickly scanned the contents.
"Modified Memory Solution, specifically designed to be weaker than a standard potion, and to counter itself if more than approximately one and a half doses is taken. Symbol engraved on bottom is SAS, a muggle elite military unit."
Harry put an elbow on his desk and dropped his chin into his palm.
"Designed to counter itself…" he thought, then it struck him, "so it's not obviously magical, and won't violate the Statute. Very sneaky."
A paper airplane zoomed around the corner and settled on his desk.
Usual spot, one hour.
Harry glanced around, then vanished the paper. An hour later, concealed beneath the invisibility cloak, Harry leaned against a wall in the heart of Knockturn alley as the fading twilight gave way to night. Witches and wizards of ill repute, most of them cloaked and hooded, moved about furtively, and the smell of various potions reagents from the apothecary across the street tickled his nose. Then he saw him, wearing the same patched up blazer as when Harry had rescued him from Gringotts. Face unshaven, Mundungus Fletcher stopped beneath a dim lamp post and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket. Harry suspected he had a wand stashed inside one of them; this late in Knockturn, he'd be a fool not to. Invisible beneath the cloak and on silenced shoes, Harry walked towards him.
"Psst, I'm here," he whispered, "what have you got?"
Fletcher barely startled, and Harry could tell he wanted to look around, but managed to restrain himself.
"Little o' this, little o' that," Fletcher murmured, "word on the street is your old classmate's been busy with that new shop o' his, and he's been seen out and about muggle London, might be worth looking into."
"Which old classmate?" Harry asked.
"Malfoy," Fletcher replied. Harry's mind immediately went to the memory solution.
"Malfoy is good at potions, this could definitely be him," Harry thought.
"Alright. Someone's selling potions to the muggles, heard anything about that?" Harry asked.
"Nope, but I'll look into it," Fletcher replied.
"Thanks, I owe you one," Harry said.
"An' I won't forget it," Fletcher said. He pushed off the lamp post and walked towards Diagon, while Harry ducked into a side street to apparate home.
The following day, Harry and Ron huddled in the Records department to scour the recent property transactions in Diagon Alley.
"I had no idea the Welcome Wagon was Malfoy's," Harry said, "that's where I bought the mobile phone pouch."
Ron held up another sheaf of parchment.
"Look at this, he purchased another one, just outside of Knockturn," Ron said. Harry scooted over and looked over the copy of the purchase agreement and back taxes payment.
"How'd he afford that, I wonder," he said.
"Could always pay him a visit," Ron said, "I reckon there won't be anything suspicious at the shop, but this place? Who knows what's going on there. Wouldn't mind nailing that git, either."
Harry nodded, and the two of them took the floo to Diagon. The early autumn wind whistled down the crooked streets, and Harry and Ron's robes snapped in the breeze as they approached the entrance to Knockturn. A light drizzle started just as they reached their destination.
"This is where our exam was," Ron said, and Harry nodded as he looked up at the formerly burnt out shophouse. The ruined store and residence was now owned by Draco Malfoy. Harry stepped up to the front door and knocked twice. A moment passed, then it opened halfway to reveal a familiar blonde witch. Tracey Davis, wearing a rich brown robe, golden locks framing her face, looked them over.
"Potter, Weasley, can I help you?" she asked.
"Hi Davis. Looking for Malfoy," Harry replied.
Tracey's eyes flicked to the side for a split-second, then she opened the door wider to let them in off the street and out of the rain.
"Wait here," she said as she closed the door behind them. The interior of the shop was filled with merchandise, partially loaded crates of mobile phone bags of various colours, unopened boxes, and packing materials, with only a small path clear to walk through. Tracey vanished into the rear, down a set of steps, into the cellar Harry had nearly fallen into the day of their Auror exam.
"What's she doing here?" Ron asked quietly.
Harry shrugged. He heard some raised voices from below but couldn't make out the words, and then Draco Malfoy rounded the corner, followed by Tracey. He looked very much the part of a well-to-do business man in smart, dark grey professional robes, and in his left hand he carried his father's old snake headed cane.
"And here I thought I was free of you two when I graduated," Draco said, a subtle dig at the fact that Harry and Ron had not actually completed their education, "I'm a busy man and I'm not really entertaining guests at the moment."
"Watch your tone Malfoy," Ron said.
Draco sneered at him.
"Mind if we take a look around?" Harry asked.
Draco turned to regard Harry.
"Be my guest, since you're already inside," Draco replied as he shot Tracey a glare then returned his attention to the two Aurors, "mind if I ask what you're looking for? Perhaps I can be of assistance."
"I'll know it when I see it," Ron replied as he popped open the lid of a crate, "what is all this junk?"
"Merchandise for the shop," Draco replied, "I'll appreciate it if you don't touch anything."
"He wouldn't be dumb enough to keep anything incriminating here, would he?" Harry thought as he surveyed the crates. He looked over his former classmate. Draco actually looked well, clean shaven, hair neatly combed, a far cry from the nearly broken teenager he'd stumbled on in the lavatory in sixth year, or the desperate heir standing trial with an Azkaban sentence hanging in the balance.
"Someone's selling potions to muggles," Harry said, and he studied Draco's reaction carefully, but the Slytherin's face might as well have been made of stone, such was his mask of indifference.
"And?" Draco replied.
"You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?" Harry asked.
Draco raised an eyebrow.
"You think I'm dumb enough to risk a Statute violation?" Draco asked.
"Yeah," Ron said.
"Nobody asked you, Weasel," Draco said. Ron held up a pair of fingers to flip him off.
"What about the casino in Scotland, did you know anything about that?" Harry asked.
Draco held his cane in both hands with the tip planted on the floor.
"That the one the Ministry cocked up a few months ago?" Draco replied, "I read about that, they were using some kind of ward to get the muggles to spend more?"
Harry nodded, and the pureblood pursed his lips.
"Look Potter, there's a difference between compelling people to give their money away and selling them a quality product," Draco said as he picked up one of the mobile phone pouches, "I don't need to sell anything else; I can barely keep up with demand as it is. My father died in Azkaban. I managed to visit him twice before that happened, think I want to spend another minute on that island?"
"What about you Davis, what are you doing here?" Harry asked as he turned to the other blonde.
"Nobody would hire me after graduation, so when Malfoy asked me to work for him…" she replied, then shrugged one shoulder, "didn't really have a lot of options."
"Work? What do you do?" Ron asked.
"Logistics, inventory, operations, accounting, property management, that sort of thing," Tracey replied with a bored expression, "it beats sitting around at home all day. Nobody else will hire a pureblood fresh graduate, no matter how many NEWTs we earned."
"Mind if I take a look downstairs?" Harry asked.
"Be my guest," Draco replied as he motioned for Harry to descend first. Harry made a motion with his hand for Ron to stay on the ground level, and the redhead nodded and turned to continue chatting with Davis. Cooler air washed over him as Harry entered the musty cellar. The hole in the ceiling had been repaired, and magical globes of light cast a soft glow over everything. A long work table dominated one side of the room, next to the support pillars. On the other side stood another desk and a chair, along with parchment, a few books, and shelves of various other magical supplies and tools.
"This is where you make the pouches?" Harry asked as he surveyed the worktable.
"And work on what's next," Draco replied.
A pile of at least twenty mobile phones sat at one end of the table, their battery packs removed in a neat stack next to them. In the centre of the table, it was obvious Draco had been working on more mobile phone pouches; the raw silk, leather, and drawstrings sat in two separate piles, and finished pouches in another.
"Where'd you get the money for all this? I thought the Ministry levied reparations on your vault," Harry asked.
"Not that it's any business of yours, Potter, but the British Ministry has no jurisdiction over our European holdings," Draco replied, "I liquidated several of them to fund this little venture."
An electronic bleeping sound issued from somewhere, a phone ringing, and Harry realised it was coming from Malfoy, who had stopped still, a frozen, neutral expression on his face.
"Aren't you going to answer that?" Harry asked.
"It can wait," Malfoy replied. Harry tensed up as he stared at Malfoy and the Slytherin stared right back as the phone continued to ring, and then it went silent, followed by a short chirp, no doubt a voicemail or SMS message.
Harry weighed whether to go for his wand as he waited for Malfoy to offer something in the way of an explanation, but the pureblood regarded him with the same neutral expression. He could probably beat Draco to the draw, but was that really the best thing to do here?
"Only a muggle would call Draco on a mobile phone. He's definitely working with them somehow," Harry thought.
"What are you really doing here, Potter?" Malfoy suddenly asked.
Harry pursed his lips, looked Draco in the eye, and came to a decision.
"I can't imagine you're too popular among Voldemort's supporters, the ones that are still out there," Harry said.
"Doesn't matter much to me," Draco replied with a shrug, but Harry saw through him.
"Come on, I saw how shit scared you were when you heard Rodolphus Lestrange was nearby, -don't try to deny it." Harry said, "I know we haven't always seen eye to eye-"
"Can say that again," Draco muttered.
"But we want the same thing here, all of them gone," Harry said.
Draco paused, then he blinked, and smirked.
"You need my help," Draco said.
"And you need mine," Harry countered, "help me find the rest of them, and we'll either kill them or put them all away. Everybody wins."
"You must be joking," Draco said, "after everything that's happened, why in the world would you think for one second I'd even consider helping you?"
"Because I know what it's like to have Death Eaters after me," Harry said, "…or I could keep investigating until I find something to arrest you for."
"You can try, I'm more than happy to waste your time," Draco said. Then he fell silent and matched Harry's stare.
"Look, you don't have to answer me right now," Harry said as he pulled out a pair of knuts. He set them on the worktable and started casting a protean charm on them.
"Oh please, I'm not part of your little gang," Draco said.
"Transfigure a message, and a copy will appear on the other end, which will heat up," Harry said as he ignored the pureblood. He tested it out and found he'd gotten it right on the first try this time. Then he held the coin up to Draco, with the message 'Potter Stinks!' engraved on it.
"Cute," Draco said, "I don't get a sickle?"
"No, because you're not part of my 'little gang'," Harry said. Draco did not move to take the coin, so Harry left it on the work table, and pocketed the other.
"Think about it," Harry said. He climbed the steps and retrieved Ron on the way out.
"Good seeing you, Davis, best of luck," Harry said.
"You too, Potter," she replied, "Weasley."
They left Draco's workshop and turned onto Diagon.
"What happened down there?" Ron asked once they were on the street.
Harry explained, and Ron shook his head.
"He's a wanker, why would we want any help from him?" he asked.
"Just a hunch. We need information, and the DMLE only takes top students, barely any muggleborns; we don't have any connections to the muggle underworld, at all," Harry said.
Ron ran his fingers through his hair a few times in agitation.
"And he does? Ughh, I really can't stand the git," he said, "did you see the look on his smug face?"
"It can't hurt," Harry said, "besides, at some point we have to leave the past behind us. He could have sold us out and been a hero to the other side, and we'd be dead. But he didn't, and we need all the help we can get."
"Whatever, long as I don't have to talk to him," Ron muttered.
"Any further questions?" Robinson asked.
Harry looked around at the other lieutenants, as did the newly promoted captain Robinson, who had taken Robards' vacated position.
"Right, meeting adjourned. Potter, Mackenzie, gather your teams for emergency briefing with the acting Head Auror," he said. A few of the other, older lieutenants glared at Harry, but he ignored them.
He wanted to ask what the meeting was about, but figured he'd find out soon enough. He swung a circuit of the cubes and rounded up Matt, Liz, and Ron, and the four of them made their way to the briefing room. Mackenzie sat with Robinson's old team, and Robinson sat with Robards'.
"Do you know what this is about?" Harry whispered to his old trainer.
"Haven't the foggiest," the dark-haired lieutenant replied.
"Can it," Robards said. With a wave of his wand, the door closed and the blinds flipped shut.
"We've got a lead on a Death Eater, Anton Travers," Robards said.
Harry's heart rate immediately spiked and he leaned forward.
"While he was still Head Auror, Dawlish set eyes and ears on gold exchanges across Britain. Some of them were able to track Snatchers without their knowledge. We know where most of them live now, but there was one location which turned up a Death Eater, a residential home in Barnton," Robards said.
"Barnton, again," Harry thought, "maybe it really is their base of operations."
The briefing continued and visuals appeared on the screen behind the Head Auror.
"While we were not able to get a tracker on him, Travers has been spotted here every Tuesday morning for the past month and a half," Robards said as a photograph of the tall, thin wizard entering the house played over and over, "the operation is two-fold, capture Travers so he can be interrogated, and secure any intelligence at the site to help determine what they're using the muggle currency and gold for, and possibly identify the location of any other safe houses."
An aerial photograph of the home in question appeared on the screen at the front of the room.
"Myself and Robinson will breach from either side of the house, Mackenzie's is ground perimeter, and Potter, you four will be on brooms to provide aerial cover," Robards said. As he spoke, he traced lines and arrows on the home.
"Remember, we need him alive, so non-lethal spells only. They won't show us the same courtesy, so stay sharp," Robards said as a map appeared on the screen and showed the approach to the home on Fairleigh Lane, in Barnton, "any questions? Good, get your supplies. Potter, you're first in, get up above the house, but do not engage until the operation starts. Mackenzie, your team is second with the ward stones and notice-me-nots. Robinson, you're with me; we'll reconvene a hundred metres out, disillusioned, here, for final briefing."
An 'X' appeared next to the road leading up to the target house. With a scraping of chairs, everyone stood up and saluted. A collective excitement spread amongst the Aurors, and Harry rushed home to retrieve his broom.
Twenty minutes later, disillusioned along with the rest of the team, Harry hovered twenty metres above the north quadrant of the house. They'd split up, each taking a quarter of the property to cover all directions, and high enough up they could whisper without fear of being overheard from below. An autumn gust whipped at his robes, and he flexed the fingers on his wand hand to keep them limber in the chill. The leaves had just started to turn with a few yellows visible at the tops of some of the trees. It really was a beautiful town, and Harry wondered how many other houses here were home to a Death Eater hideout. His keen eyes spotted a ward stone appearing in the dirt near the edge of the property, and then another several meters away.
"Mackenzie's gone for a twenty-one stone configuration," Harry thought. This particular configuration would protect against both apparition and portkeys, and was large enough it would be difficult to escape on foot. His wand hand jittered, and Harry took to making small circles about his quadrant to occupy his mind. Robards and Robinsons' teams would approach under disillusionment; he wouldn't know the operation started until the first spells were fired. A bang sounded from below, and shouts issued from inside. Harry flew off a few metres to get away from the roof. A concussive explosion blew out the east wall, spraying shrapnel and debris across the yard. Harry yanked on the shaft of his broom to come about and get a better look, but the sound of breaking glass drew his attention, and a broomstick rocketed out of the second story window to the north. Harry recognised Travers instantly from the break-in at Gringott's, and the Lovegood's home. He let his disillusionment spray off of him so he could see the tip of his wand to more accurately aim. The grey-haired Death Eater, one hand already bloodied, dodged and juked to avoid spellfire from Mackenzie's team on the ground, and Harry's stunner missed. With a curse, Harry twisted around again and dove towards the Death Eater, but as a reaction to spellfire from above, Travers rolled and dove towards the west edge of the wards, away from Harry and putting the corner of the house between them. Mackenzie himself was there though, and sent a series of curses and jinxes up at the Death Eater. Harry saw one zip straight past and, through almost incredibly bad luck, impact something in mid-air. Matt's large form became visible as his broom wobbled. The big man still managed to fire off one last spell before he lost control and tumbled to the grass. The reductor curse reduced the rear section of Travers' broom to splinters, and he plummeted towards the ground. Previously hidden by the house, Harry spotted Scabior sprinting towards Mackenzie as well, firing off a series of wordless spells as he pounded past Travers. The Death Eater snapped his wand forward, straight at Scabior's back, and he was propelled directly into Mackenzie, who folded as he absorbed the impact of the Snatcher with an 'oof'. The two of them tumbled to the ground next to the westernmost ward stone as the wind roared in Harry's ears as he urged his Firebolt forward.
"Stupefy! Impedimenta!" Harry thought, the second spell zipping from his wand before the first landed, but Scabior was quicker. He grabbed the ward stone and twisted in one fluid motion to fling it back towards the house. The anti-apparition wards collapsed, and both Travers and Scabior vanished, sucked through emergency portkeys, as a dozen spells impacted the ground where they had lain just a split-second earlier. Harry pulled up and skimmed to a stop.
"Fuck!" Harry said as he spotted the bloodied wardstone beneath him; apparently Scabior had cut his hand as well. Harry dropped to the ground and kicked the grass where Travers had lain.
"Damn, this bloody close," Harry thought ruefully.
"Clear!" came the call from inside.
Robards appeared on the second story balcony, where Scabior had apparently jumped from.
"Did we get either of them?" he asked.
"No sir," Harry said, "Scabior was able to disrupt the ward, and they both had emergency portkeys, did we get a trace on either?"
Robards' didn't answer, but his face turned red, almost purple, and he glared at Mackenzie, who had picked himself up off the ground and was dusting himself off. The acting Head Auror turned around and stormed back into the house, and Harry winced as he started barking orders.
"What the fuck are the odds," Matt muttered as he picked up his damaged broom and inspected it to see if it was salvageable.
Harry kicked off again and drifted back to the east side of the house, where the wall had been blown out, to see Ron looking down at the damaged section of the home. Lieutenant Robinson carefully waved his wand in a looping pattern to fix up an injured Auror's arm, but the two of them stood in an undamaged portion of the living room, and the small section of the wall behind them was pristine, completely unscathed. All around it, the structure had been completely blown away, making for an odd sight.
"What happened here?" Harry asked.
"Blasting curse, Winthrop's blood ward stone saved them, otherwise we'd probably be scraping them up off the grass," Ron replied.
"Appreciate the vivid description, Weasley, well done," Robinson said without looking up, "but yeah, thank Merlin the bloody stone took the brunt of it."
"Potter, stop flapping your gums and get your arse over here," Robards shouted from the other side of the house.
Harry shuddered. He wasn't looking forward to the debrief on this one.
Turned out, it wasn't all bad news. Despite failing to capture Travers or Scabior, who had both escaped using blood activated portkeys, the raid had resulted in the seizure of a dozen gold bricks and over a hundred thousand pounds of muggle cash. The rest of the evidence, papers, potions, a journal with security enchantments on it, had been collected and jarred and sent off to the Tracers for analysis.
"Look at the bright side," Liz said as the team ate lunch together, "it looks like Travers was in charge of financing, so we probably set them back in whatever they were trying to do."
Harry nodded, but this had been their best lead since Voldemort's defeat; it certainly would have been better if they could have captured Travers alive. He couldn't help but wonder if this missed golden opportunity would come back to bite them in the arse later...
Harry walked towards Minister's office, and the blonde Daisy Vane, sitting in the receptionist's seat where the severe looking middle-aged witch used to work for Kingsley, flashed him a perfect smile.
"Good morning, Mr. Potter, the Minister is expecting you," she said as she motioned him inside.
Harry entered the plush office of the Minister of Magic. The desk and carpet were the same, but many of the personal effects from Winthrop's Hogwarts office now decorated his new one: the map of Europe on the wall, the grandfather clock ticking away, and the same picture frame at the corner of his desk. The man himself sat in Kingsley's old chair and watched through his horn-rimmed glasses as Harry approached.
"Good to see you, Auror Potter, thank you for coming on such short notice," Winthrop said as he stood to meet Harry halfway around the desk. They shook hands and then took their respective seats.
"Not a problem," Harry said, "I guess the transition went smoothly?"
Winthrop nodded.
"Yes, thank you for asking. You might be interested to know, the first month's report on the economic stimulus package is not yet finalised, but signs are exceedingly positive. Goblin gold is pouring in, and there is now a shortage of construction contractors to repurpose muggle homes or build new ones," Winthrop said, "something unemployed purebloods and werewolf immigrants have been all too happy to put their hands up for."
"That's fantastic," Harry said.
"Yes, it'll be a boon to all of us, at least for the time being," Winthrop said, "Macnair, the head of Resources and Revenue, says it remains to be seen what happens once supply catches up with demand, but I think we're a long way off from that yet, so let's enjoy it while we can."
Harry smiled, with this and the ending of the Azkaban patrols, Winthrop was on a tear. They still had a long way to go, but it was another step in the right direction.
"Those ward stones you picked up for the Auror Corps are a big hit," Harry said, "one of them already saved a few lives in an operation earlier this week."
"Glad to hear it," Winthrop said, "can you believe they were proposed by a student? Julie Parks, did you know her from school?"
Harry shook his head.
"Ah well, Gryffindor prefect, very bright young woman," Winthrop said.
Harry nodded. Now was the time for him to make good on his promise to the goblins, before Winthrop got to whatever it was he'd requested the meeting for.
"I don't think this economic package would have gone through without you," Harry said, "I think we should ride the wave a little bit. If it continues to be successful, think we might be able to push for goblin representation on the Wizengamot?"
Winthrop gave him a small grin.
"Have you been reading my mind, Mr. Potter? I'll do you one better," he said, "I'm already in discussion with Macmillan, the Head of International Cooperation, on inclusion of a number Beings with voting seats on the Wizengamot."
Harry's eyes widened.
"I thought the goblins alone would be stretch, and anything else would be impossible," Harry said.
Winthrop smiled again.
"Nothing is impossible, Mr. Potter, you of all people should know that," he replied, "at least, not with a little bit of politics, a little bit of leverage, a side order of gold… and a promise that wizards will always hold a majority of seats. Of course, not everyone is happy, but I think the benefits will far outweigh the costs."
"How much of a majority?" Harry asked.
"Remains to be seen," Winthrop replied with a dismissive wave of his hand.
"Okay, it's not perfect, but…" Harry thought.
"Still, that would be monumental. How close are we? And which Beings are we talking about?" Harry asked.
"Still a ways away, unfortunately, especially with the required two-thirds majority," Winthrop replied, "Right now, we are considering goblins of course, veela, leprechauns, and possibly house-elves and vampires."
"What about werewolves?" Harry asked as his thoughts turned to Remus.
Winthrop shook his head.
"No luck there, werewolves are now considered wizards thanks to the law we passed earlier this year, and are eligible for the regular seats," Winthrop replied, "muggles too, would not be allowed representation, owing to the Statute."
"Right… and house elves?" Harry asked.
Winthrop leaned back in his seat.
"I think the difficulty there would be finding a house elf that would be willing to speak for the others, but there are rare exceptions, and it would be advantageous to have a house elf point of view on certain legislation," Winthrop said, "for veela and leprechauns, I don't anticipate either would be an issue… they have their own societies, and there is interaction with wizards at least semi-regularly. The real difficult one would be the vampires."
Harry nodded again.
"Right, I agree," he said, "they're classified as Dark creatures, not even beings, and they literally need to drink blood to survive."
Winthrop folded his hands on the desk.
"We would need to reclassify them, which would be easier if a steady supply of blood were available," Winthrop said, "we could potentially do it under the mandate of protecting the muggle population. Then it becomes just another program, similar to the werewolves. Like werewolves, it would be better if they were brought into society."
Harry scratched his chin in thought.
"What do the vampires think about this, has anyone reached out to them?" Harry asked.
"They're mostly loners, really, not one monolithic society," Winthrop replied, "there has been some interest, and some… not so interested. I'm working on it with Macmillan and Weasley."
"Sounds like a long way to go," Harry said.
"Likely, though not really your concern. I was hoping, Mr. Potter, that you might step in where you have a bit more experience," Winthrop said, "the reason I called you here today is because there is an issue with the outreach to the goblins. I understand your schedule is busy, but if you could find the time, I wonder if it might be possible for you to use your clout and not inconsiderable persuasion skills to mediate between Macmillan and the heads of two factions within the goblin nation, led by Ragnok the Fourth, and Ugluk the Bold."
Harry sat back with a heavy sigh.
"Surely there are experts on goblin relations who might be a better fit?" Harry asked, "Percy Weasley perhaps?"
"Macmillian, Macnair, and Ragnok all trust Mr. Weasley, but Ugluk seems to have some kind of fixation with you, though I'm not exactly clear on the specifics," Winthrop replied.
Harry made a 'pff' sound.
"He hates my guts. He's upset we were forgiven for the break-in at Gringotts, thinks there should be a blood price paid by Wizarding Britain, whatever that means," Harry said.
Winthrop chuckled.
"Ah, then it seems it must be you, if you're willing," Winthrop said, "if you can bury the hatchet with Ugluk, we should be able to get the rest of the goblins on board, and clear the way for us to negotiate their addition to the wizengamot."
Harry frowned, but he couldn't exactly decline, not with so much on the line.
"I'll do what I can," Harry said.
"That is all anyone can ask," Winthrop replied with a smile.
A/N: Many thanks to my wonderful readers and reviewers. We are just about to pass 100 favourites and 150 followers.