Chapter 1: One last case
"A man is not dead until he is forgotten"
It was late. The magical windows of his office, enchanted to show the outside landscape even though the Ministry was underground, already showed a black and cloudless night sky, lighted only by the pale light of the moon set at her first quarter, and the oppressive lights of the city's nightlife.
Even though the sky was clear, there was not even a single star in sight.
Stargazing -a pleasant passtime of his in the past- nowadays was very difficult, if not impossible, thanks to the light pollution and extreme, near lethal level of smog of London. Damn muggles and their greed and carelessness.
The old man, salt and pepper short hair carefully trimmed, a three days white beard and dull green eyes, was sitting behind his expensive looking desk, lazily brushing over a pile of officials documents with an hand while keeping in his other a glass half filled with an amber liquid and some ice cubes, gently moved in a circular pattern.
On the desk, a part from the papers stacked in religious order, there was only an golden inkwell, a red and gold feather glowing with a soft light and a bottle of the same liquid in the the glass with a label that said "Ogden's Old – 2017/Signature Edition"
"You did it again, huh?" he said with gritted teeth and eyes lit with fury, now looking at a paper of the pile, BZ n°12, before inking the feather and putting his signature at the end of the document. "Bastard...one day i'll catch you, i swear..."
He already knew this new case, of course but, similarly to the others, no evidence were found once again. Apparently his mother, before her death, managed to teach him her trade well.
He opened the drawer under the desk and he took out a folder with a red leather cover, he gently touched it with his wand magically summoned with a flick of his wrist before opening it and then he put the paper inside it, along with many others.
He put the folder away in it's old place and whispered a ward and signature lock spell once again.
Only him could opened it now.
He continued his papers for another hour before a light knock on the door took away his attention from his work.
He glanced at the door with a frown. He didn't expected someone at this hour. It must be way after midnight at this point.
"Enter?" he responded, his voice low and doubful.
The door opened and a woman dressed in red and gold auror robes entered the office.
She was on her late twenties and quite beautiful with her chestnut long hair, blue eyes and a gentle and caring face.
"Boss" she greeted respectfully, standing at attention.
The old man looked at the woman, perplexed. "Ms Shirley?What are you doing still here?" he
asked. The auror was not suppose to be still here, after all. It's true that criminals and crimes don't have timetables, but emergencies and occasional nightshift aside, most auror were dimissed for home after 7 pm.
"Ehm Boss..." she started, unsure. Talking with head of the DMLE and a war hero, a legend, was always an nerve wracking experience for every aurors, especially in recent years, but for her it was worst than the others. After all, she was the daughter of someone that he didn't like very much.
Not that he liked many people at all, to be honest.
"It's half-past midnight...i and the others were wondering if we could go home...you didn't exit your office all the day and didn't dismiss us, so...and it's already Chistmas...and my daughter..." She replied, growing more and more pleading the more she talked.
She really, really wanted to go home to see her husband and maybe prepare together the presents under the tree for their 4 years old daughter for the morning,after all.
Reimi was finally of an age where she could understand the concept of "Christmas" and "present" and was truly excited for the day, she had even written, with her help, a small letter with all the toys that she wanted. She was her pride and joy.
Oh and she wanted another child, so who knows, maybe her husband was still ready and awake enough for some late night activity and stress relieving. A lady can hope, right?
"I...my apologize" he replied dismayed. He looked down at his trembling hands. It seems that, once again, he forgot the people working under him. Luckily he could always blame his old age.
"I'm truly sorry Ms Shirley, i'm afraid that i was so busy with work that i forgot to check the hour..." he continued "Alas it seems that my old age is finally catching up with me" he chuckled with a eye twinkle.
"It's not a problem, sir. We understand" She kindly acknowledged with a smile.
"Of course, you may go. Tell the others that are still here that they will have the day free. The same for you, of course. Consider it my christmas present"
"Thank you, Mr. Potter, thank you!" She nearly shouted in happiness. A day off on one of the busiest day of the year? A day where people usually got really drunk and starts broom races or magic duels in the middle of muggle's cities, at best? Best Christmas Present Ever.
"Naturally, i didn't forgot your daughter...Emma, right?" he asked.
"Reimi" she replied politely.
"Ah right, Reimi, of course" he looked around the office, thoughful "Here, i have a present for her"
"Mr Potter, sir, it was not necessary, really..."
"Oh nonsense" he said, standing up and reaching for the cabinet behind the desk and taking something from it.
"Here, take it. For Reimi" he offered her something with a brilliant smile.
Shirley looked down at the "present". A brand old bottle of firewhisky, complete with a yellow present ribbon on the neck. A dusty and yellow label who recited: Ogden's Finest, 1945/Collector's Edition. A small tag was sticked to the ribbon: From Neville Longbottom to Harry Potter.
A bottle from the Minister to the head of the DMLE?
Shirley was unsure of what to say...Apparently Sir Potter was many thing, but a good gift's chooser for a 4 years old girl he was not.
"I...Thank you very much, Boss...Reimi will be very happy" She added with a strained smile, just to be polite. The hell? This thing will stay a mile away from Reimi.
'Or more likely, Patrick and i will enjoy it very much tonight. This thing must cost more than our house' She thought happily. Drunk and no work? Sign me up.
Harry nodded at her and dismissed her with a wave of his hand.
Shirley saluted again and turned on her heels, reaching for the door handle, before stopping herself.
She... had something to say.
She turned back again. "Ehm, Boss...can i speak freely?"
Harry looked at her once again, and nodded, once again finding himself perplexed . Twice in a day, a new personal record.
Shirley gave a deep breath, closed her eyes and searched for her Gryffindor bravery and opended her eyes again.
"I know that it's not my place to question you, sir...but i think that you should go home too. You look tired and ready to collapse...When was the last time that you had a good night of sleep?"
She knew that maybe she was inappropriate and that she should mind her own business, but she had to say something.
She was seriously worried about him. Harry Potter was now way above his seventies. Everyone in the ministry knew that he was not really well. Some said that his life, work and old age was at last getting it's token on his mind and sanity. Others, mostly muggleborn employes, said that he probably had a muggles memory illness, hence his void moments and forgetfulness. Noone in the corp believed them, of course.
Harry Potter was still the damn best wizard and auror out there and a powerful enforcer of the Ministry.
As an Auror, it was an honor and a privilegie to work under him. But lately...
"I...Yes, i think you may be right" he nodded back with a tired smile. He really was spent.
He walked to the window and looked outside. A young couple was walking along the road, hand in hand, looking at the Christmas lights with love in their eyes. Harry gave them a small smile, a smile the they couldn't see.
"And, for your question, tell me Ms. Shirley" he claimed, before turning to look at the woman "Have you haver been in a war?"
The woman gave him a sad gaze, before shaking her head "No, sir. The last one was fought three years before my birth"
Harry nodded, and gave her a gentle smile "Then you're blessed. War has the power to change you, you know?" he looked outside the window again. The couple was now kissing under the misletoe hanging from a light pole. "I didn't slept well since the first one, maybe even before" he said bitterly
Shirley felt her heart ache, filled with sorrow. Everyone knew the story of Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived, the Slayer of Lord Voldemort, Hero of Wars. All glorious and powerful titles. Less people tend to remember what he had lost, however. That he was basically chained to his work, with few friends, no family and a lot of enemies.
It was so...sad.
"It's the war that you see when you close your eyes? Is that why you work all the time?"
He looked at her in the eyes, green flashing with power and anguish. He nodded "I see all of them. Every day"
People thought that his mind was fading away, and maybe they were right. But those memories? They were not in his mind, they were engraved in his very soul. They never left him alone.
He walked to the desk ad filled himself another glass of firewhisky.
"I'm sorry" she replied, not knowing what to say. What a person can say in a situation like this?
Why she had to ask?
He raised his glass at her " Don't be. Don't worry ms. Shirley. I'll finish these papers and then i'll go home. Promise" he wave his hand again and cut short the coversation. He was not in the mood anymore. "See you in monday"
She nodded and opened the door "Goodnight, Boss"
When the door closed, the man gulped the glass in one shot and slapped it hard on the desk.
Mistakes on mistakes. How annoying.
In an angle of the room, a painting a painting stirred awake. In the frame, an old man dressed in fancy robes, long white hair and beard and half-moon glasses.
"Drinking again, my boy?"
Harry smiled. "Headmaster" greeted with a nod.
The man in the portrait looked at the man severely. "That habit of yours will kill you someday, you know? What's today number?"
Harry gave a smug look "Only three"
"Glasses?" replied the portrait, surprised
The man gave an hearty laugh, the first of the day "Do you know me this badly, Albus? Three bottles, of course"
Dumbledore chuckled "My bad, i suppose i should have known better, bad alas young man, i'm just a portrait"
"Who are you call a young man? I'm a geezer now, just like you"
"I'm afraid, for me everyone are young men and girls. Call it a bad habit of a teacher. Beside..." he looked at him from head to toes from behind his half-moon lenses, blue eyes twinkling mischievously "...I have never been as old-fashioned and boring looking like you, not even when i was way pas my hundred"
Harry laught once again before doing a small twirl, showing his boring grey tuxedo and white shirt under the red and gold auror coat left open. "What can i say, i'm a suker for the classic"
He could always count on Dumbledore to cheer him up a little.
"That thing was out of fashion even when i was alive, i can only imagine now" Albus shook his head in fake mockery, before turning serious.
"How are you today?" he asked.
All the mirth left Harry face in a second, before he shrugged.
"As usual. They come and go. Just before you woke up, i found out that i forgot to send home my aurors. At Christmas. Shirley is a kind soul, she didn't seemed to be very annoyed, but i cannot imagine the others to be happy"
"I heard"
"Did you? Has someone pretended to be asleep once again to eavesdrop, huh? It seems that i'm not the only one that is a suker for the classic" he pointed out, sarcastically.
The portrait raised his hands in the air "In my defense, i was bored...and as i said before, i'm just a portrait"he shrugged "If you want, you can always blame my maker. She did a very good job, i must say" he looked down at himself, looking smug " Just look at me, isn't this dress so wonderful? Sure it is"
Harry rolled his eyes. Same Dumbledore and his vanity and fashion fetish.
"Other than that slip up, nothing of note happened today" he shrugged, recalling the day at the best he could do.
Albus raised an eyebrow "Really? Can you not think of anything else?"
"...No?"
The headmaster gave a loud cough to clear his voice "Let me be your voice of consciousness, your spirit guide" now his eyes were twinkling madly "You, my boy, have just gifted to a mother a bottle of alcohol for her child, and i underline the child word" he gave a hearty laugh "How daft can you be?"
Harry gasped, bringing his hands to his mouth. "Merlin, you're right! I did it" He messed up. Again.
What will Shirley think of him now? What would think of him the child...Helena? when she will see his christmas's present for her?
"You are losing it" pointed out the portait, seriously.
Harry could only agree "I am"
"I hate to be that man, Harry. I really do. But listen to a man that was once in your own shoes and refused to make the right choice. You should retire from active duty. Travel, live the years you have left...enjoy your life" he pleaded. "Don't be like me...don't leave for the next big adventure full of regrets"
Harry looked down, lost in his thoughts. Albus was right, as always.
They already had this conversation, more than once, together with Neville.
The minister, and one of his last friends left alive already told them that this will be his last mandate. He was tired, and after Hannah death three years before, he didn't see the point to continue. Two years and then he will retire to private life.
They are the last of the old guard, him and Neville. A Sword and a Shield, one made to protect magical britain with his charisma and his politics. The other made to strike down magical society's foes, wand in hand, spells on his lips, to make sure no other Tom could reappear ever again.
They have been that for nearly half century.
But now the sword was rusting and was losing her shield.
He was nothing without his work. Retiring will probably be the hardest thing he'd ever done.
But he could feel in his bones that the time was near, even for him.
He was making mistakes, a lot in his opinion. His mind and body was not in their prime anymore. He'd hate to make a mistake that would cost the life of one of his employers, only because he was not anymore rational and lucid enough. He was afraid, not for himself, but for the others.
He already had taken small steps. He already started to groom Dayne as a possible successor two years before. The man was young and brazen, but he was one of the best auror he'd ever seen and had charisma to spare. He will do well.
The man looked at the portrait again. He nodded "You're right"
Albus gave a undersanding and sad smile "I know it's hard for you, my boy. I can understand you maybe better than anyone else"
"I know" he replied before starting to walking in circle, in contemplation.
After a minute he stopped, looked at the headmaster in the eyes "As i said this morning to Neville" he raised his index finger "One last case, and then i'm out"
His gaze became hard as steel "I'll finally close the case of the missing young women, and only after that, i'll retire"
Silence pervaded the office.
"You've been working on this case for thirty years, Harry" Dumbledore poited out "Is something changed? Or are you only buying yourself time, i wonder?"
Harry went back to the desk and took out once again the red folder. He opened it and took out a copy of a small piece of paper. He raised it between his index and middle finger and pointed it at the portrait. It was a small little thing, but for him, it was a treasure mine.
He smirked "Last week we found this" he gave the piece of paper a flick with his wand and it started to float beside him, following him while he started to walk in circle once again.
"This time we know the Who and the When"
Dumbledore looked at paper and tried to read it from his place. The writing was sloppy and some words were faded by action of small round spots of liquid. Tears, maybe?
But the meaning was clear and chilling.
"This time, you'll pay for everything with your life"
Harry's voice became cold as steel, murderous intent in his eyes,
"I'm coming for you, Daphne Greengrass"
The portraint in the corner winced.
The Red Folder:
BZ Case: Blaise Zabini, Rome- 2 april 1980
Son of Samantha Zabini - nee Romanova (15 october 1958- 2 march 2048) and Michele Zabini. (9 july 1956- 1 april 1980)
Married twelve time to women of various ages, with only one characteristic in common: their riches. All the women died in strange accidents, leaving to Zabini all their possessions. Before each new marriage, Zabini always returned to live to his mother home, until her death in 2048.
No evidence has ever been found of Zabini's guilt, either magical or muggle. Every death was always classified as an accident.
N°12:
Lillian Zabini – nee Goyle (6 January 2023- 23 December 2055), twelfth Zabini's wife, was found dead by his husband on the morning of december 23/ 2055.
Cause of death: drowning.
Lillian was found dead in her bath tube. No signs of fight or traces of spells where found on the scene or on the wands present in the house. Muggle scientific poliece was asked for a consultation but they didn't found signs of fingerprints or somenthing to incriminate Zabini. The death was classified as an accident.
Missing young women twenty-three, now twenty four:
A small excerpt from something that seems to be a page of a diary was found at the site of the twety-fourth disappearance. The paper is full of circular signs of water, maybe rain or tears. Investigations will be carried out to identifythe origin of the stains. Some words are faded.
The experiment was a failure. No …... manage to survive the …...
female specimens twenty-two …... Twenty-three survived one minute. A small step in
the …...
Twenty-four acquired, new test ready. Twenty- five in a week. This time i can …...
Tori will live again.
D.G.
/(I)\
So...My first story, hope you will like it. I'm a reader and not a writer and this is my first experience in writing a fanfiction. I'll make mistakes, but i hope to improve.
English in not my first language, but i still use it quite often for work, but nothing as complicated as writing a whole story.
Cheers
