What's this, another update just a week after the last one!? The last chapter was too long so I had to split it in two - this is the second part. Normal service of six months between updates will be resumed after this, I'm sure. Although we are getting dangerously close to the last few chapters which I did actually write several years ago, so hopefully when I read through them they will not need too much of an edit and the posting pace will pick up.
As always, thanks so much to the people who have been waiting patiently for me to get on with this - I really don't deserve it
Ron knocked on his friend's office door, rocking back on his heels until he heard the mumbled invitation to enter from within. He wasn't sure why Harry had called him into his place of work rather than somewhere more socially appealing rather than say, the pub, where they might discuss the order of the day over a nice pint, but he guessed that it couldn't be good news. He had said that Harry could call on him any time, when he had handed back control of the Aurors' office to him but he hadn't imagined the call would come so soon.
"Hiya mate" Harry sighed, as Ron entered the room. Ron could tell instantly from the state of Harry's hair, never mind his desk, that he was seriously stressed about something and silently congratulated himself that he had realised that Harry probably wouldn't appreciate his appearance being remarked upon before the words left his lips.
"You ok?"
Harry dispensed with any further pleasantries and pushed the dossier of photos over the desk. "Ever seen either of these guys before?"
Ron studied the photos, his brow furrowing as he wracked his brain for some dim bell ringing before eventually admitting defeat with a shake of his head, "Who are they?"
"Damned if I know," Harry replied, slamming his hand down on the desk just a little too hard, as he answered, "Death Eaters, apparently."
"But I thought…"
"Me too," Harry crumpled visibly at the admission, "but there's only two options really – either the Lestranges are resurfacing for some reason, or there's a whole legion of Death Eaters out there that we don't even know about."
"Bang goes your early retirement," Ron attempted a joke and was relieved to see a weak smile from Harry before he returned to the photos, "Wait, what the bloody buggering hell is Toadface doing with them?" he exploded.
"Once again, damned if I know."
"If there's any interrogation of her to be done please let me have first dibs. Where did you get these photos from anyway?"
Harry looked away awkwardly, the pause stretching out between them, "If I say that I believe it to be a reliable source that I would rather not reveal right now, will you leave it there?"
Ron told the queasy flip of discomfort in his stomach to settle down. This was Harry after all, not just his best mate but a highly experience investigator, who had been saving the wizarding world based on little more than his gut feelings since before he was out of junior robes. He nodded slowly.
"I take it you didn't just get me to come over here for a social call, what do you need?"
"My, err, source, has informed me that these two have been hiding out in Muggle London and I wanted to go and check it out. Obviously, they are in close contact with Ministry staff and I wanted to take someone I knew I could trust with me. I've got no idea what I'm getting into here or how far all of this spreads." He shrugged helplessly.
Ron just nodded again, "have you told anyone else from the Auror team?"
"Not yet. If nothing else, I wanted to know my arse from my elbow before I briefed them. I thought we could go and have a quick recce, unofficially, what do you say? From my research, there's a nice little pub on the corner by where they've been traced to. I'll buy you a pint while I fill you in on what little I know, what do you say?"
Ron grinned, "Now you're talking, what are we waiting for?"
oOoOoOo
As Ron placed the full glasses down on the little cardboard squares that muggles called beer mats, careful not to spill a drop, he noticed Harry was silently putting up some enchantments so that they might continue the conversation without being heard.
"So you've really got no idea what they're up to?"
"Not the foggiest. I know it sounds stupid but after we got Travers I really thought we were on to a winner you know? I'd heard so many rumours about the Lestranges being dead, or having lost their powers that I was sort of hoping that we had finally got rid of the last remnants of the war. But now, it feel like…."
"You're back to square one?"
"Worse in a way. Because now I've got no idea what I'm up against."
"You really think it could be a splinter cell?"
Harry swiped his hand over his face wearily, "I've got no idea. I hadn't even considered the possibility but Malfoy –" Harry's voice cut off and he took a deep draught of his beer, eyeing Ron over the foam as the implications of what he had just accidentally imparted trickled into Ron's consciousness. He could actually feel it, the uncomfortable awareness dripping down like someone had poured his drink over his head.
First he went quite white, his freckles standing out lividly against his palid cheeks, before turning bright red, spluttering with anger. "Malfoy!? your mysterious source is Draco bloody Malfoy? It's bad enough Hermione being all pally pally with him but not you as well? I suppose you've eaten up every word he's told you?"
When no denial came, his rant increased in rage, "Oh great, so we're going to be led on some wild goose chase by that bloody bastard ferret. Straight into a Death Eater trap no doubt. Oh, it'll all work out well for him – bump me off and leave Hermione free to –"
"He wasn't lying." Harry cut him off calmly but Ron was so incensed he could barely sit still in his seat.
"Reckon next time you see him he'll have dyed his hair ginger because it seems like he wants everything I've got! Now he's even trying to weasel his way in with my mate! She's forgiven him of course - she would. But you!"
He felt like a kid. A stupid little kid who everyone was ignoring and laughing at behind his back because he was too stupid to understand what they were going on about. Silly little Ron, following us all about. Let's turn his teddy bear into a spider to get rid of him while we all go off and make friends with the tosser that we had all agreed to hate and leave him out of all of it. He swallowed down the ache of frustrated tears and clenched his hands on his thighs so Harry didn't see how his fingers were trembling.
"It's not like that, honestly it's not. I still can't stand the guy. I can believe his story and not want to go out for ice creams with him, you know."
Ron didn't say anything. Now he had finished talking, he didn't trust his voice not to wobble if he started again. Harry patted him on the knee in a manner that Ron supposed was meant to be reassuring. For a few minutes they just sat and sipped their drinks. Perhaps that's why men always discussed important things over a pint, so they had something to do when the conversation became a bit much. Eventually, Harry broke the silence before it weighed too heavy.
"She wouldn't cheat on you, you know."
"I know. It's not that."
"Well what is it then?" Harry's brows drew together in confusion.
Ron dragged up a sigh that felt like it had come all the way from his toes before trying to explain, "Well, this whole thing can't carry on forever, can it, especially if Umbridge is up to her neck in this. Then what? She's hardly going to stay with me is she if Ferret features is sniffing around."
"This whole thing being the marriage law?"
Ron nodded in confirmation.
"This idea might sound a little out there but have you considered – I don't know – actually talking to her? Telling her how you feel?"
"Mate, I don't even know how I feel, let alone try and tell her about it."
"Don't you." Harry made it sound more like a statement than a question, and there was something about the twinkle in his eyes that reminded Ron of Dumbledore and made it impossible to answer. He swallowed his drink thoughtfully and feigned an interest in the snooker that was playing on a small TV above the bar. He was frantically casting about his mind for a safer subject to move the conversation on to when it became apparent that Harry hadn't finished talking.
"Can I just say one more thing? All I want is to see you two happy. And I think the thing that could make you both happy is each other."
"Noted. Thank you. Now can we get back to the matter in hand?"
Harry drained the last of his pint, "Alright, alright, let's go check this place out. Speaking of the brightest witch of our age, do you think we should have asked Hermione to come along?"
"Mate - we cant just keep calling Hermione in, she works in a whole different department, she's got her own work to do."
Harry scratched the back of neck as his face reddened, looking distinctly fishy, "Sorry old habits die hard, sometimes I want to go back to when it was just the three of us. Everything was simpler then."
"Simple? Only you, Harry Potter, would call saving the wizarding world simple!"
oOoOoOo
Ron peered round the corner of a boarded up newsagents, ignoring the acrid smell that seemed to adorn all alleyways universally . He could see the playpark Harry had told him about – a sad affair – broken beer bottles littering the floor, the one swing hanging drunkenly from a single chain, not a child in sight. Perhaps that was for the best, he acknowledged to himself. He felt a brushing against his side and turned to the empty air.
"Alright Harry, what did you see?"
Harry's dark head appeared from under the cloak, floating in midair in a way that Ron had never quite managed to stop finding unnerving.
"I found the entrance to the flats, it's got basic muggle security on the door – a key code lock – but even that's so worn out it's easy enough to open. I saw some muggles coming in and out, the place looks like just a bog standard block of flats. I reckon we'll be ok to enter the communal areas at least.
At last he fully removed his cloak, stuffing it into what looked like an ordinary backpack. Only they needed to know it was chock full of magical first aid devices, dark arts detectors and a few muggle items like ropes and a mobile phone that might come in handy.
Attempting to look nonchalant they sauntered along the weed strewn path. Ron examined the graffiti on the walls, shaking his head and tutting, muttering under his breath about kids these days whilst he scanned the neon scrawls for any runes, symbols or talisman that could give them any clue about what they were walking in to, but he could see none.
When they reached the front door, he immediately realised what Harry had meant about the lock. Grinning, he reached out to the key pad with the tip of his long finger, tapping the number in turn - 1 2 3 4. "Hardly Gringotts is it," he chuckled, regarding the way the four well-worn buttons shone, the painted numbers almost rubbed off completely, in comparison to the remainder of the keys which were dull with disuse.
"Makes you wonder doesn't it" Harry breathed uneasily.
"I know what you mean, did they choose this place because it was just so shitty that no one would care to look here or are we walking headlong into a trap?"
"Exactly."
"All the same, we'd better keep our wands concealed, with all these muggles about." As if to prove his point, a door slammed somewhere above them and footsteps echoed on one of the floors above.
They were in a small hallway, decorated only with numbered mailboxes for each flat. Peeling, yellowed tape held nameplates on to some of the boxes but a quick examination of them revealed nothing out of the ordinary. Ron craned his neck down the corridor, counting the doorways and with a glance back at the letterboxes did a quick bit of mental calculation. "looks like there's four flats per floor so that's six floors. Hope you like stairs," he joked, nodding towards the lift, which was crisscrossed with yellow tape proclaiming it out of order.
Cautiously they approached the first door, reaching into their pockets simultaneously and clipping small plastic rectangles to their jumpers. This had been Harry's idea; most impressive, Ron had thought. A pureblood would never have thought of it. Certainly nothing like this had come up in their muggle studies classes, which had been full of what to do if you met the muggle queen and how to make a three course dinner without magic.
Harry rapped smartly on the first door, ignoring the doorbell that dangled from a wire next to the door. "They're always broken," he whispered to Ron in reply to his unspoken curiosity.
The muffled bark of a dog from within the flat told them that someone was coming. When the door swung open it took all of Ron's power not to recoil in horror at the onslaught that assaulted his senses – the stink of old microwave meals and unwashed animals and humans alike, the blare of a television on too loud and the sight of an unimpressed man in his 80s brandishing a walking stick at them, resplendent in stained trousers and a string vest.
"You from the Council?" he barked.
Harry adjusted his glasses and beamed ingratiatingly, although it seemed to have little effect on the angry pensioner.
"You'd better not be from the Council else you'll get a piece of my mind. I've been calling and calling, trying to get someone to come round and look at my boiler but of course no one ever comes. Bloody typical, those fatcats don't ever come out their ivory towers and help out Joe Bloggs here do they? "
"So do you want us to be from the Council or not?" Ron asked, bemused, but Harry cut him off with a wave of his hand.
Harry widened his smile another notch or two and gestured to the plastic ID card clipped to his jumper, "No Sir, we're from the water board. We just wanted to say thank you for your loyal service and give all of our customers a £50 voucher." He handed over a slip of paper with a flourish.
"Ahem yes, thanks very much Mr…Bloggs, did you say?" Ron joined in, but after a hard stare the elderly man just slammed the door in their faces.
"What did I do?" Ron asked, only needing the slight shake of Harry's head and the amused quirk of his lips to realise, "Muggle thing?"
Harry grasped his clipboard a little tighter, "Well there was no trace of magic in that place so we can rule out Mr Bloggs don't you think. Right, on to the next one."
As luck would have it, they had knocked on every door but one, some calls unanswered, met an array of disgruntled muggles, had more than one door slammed in their face and encountered several dogs of varying degrees of friendliness (one far too friendly with Ron's leg for his liking), with not a hint of magic anywhere. There had been one old lady that Harry had wondered about having squib tendencies but he wasn't sure if it was just because she had so many cats that she reminded him of Mrs Figg.
The weak communal landing light flickered ominously as they approached the final doorway on the top floor. Ron paused, finger to his lips as he listened out for a TV or the sound of voices within but there reigned nothing but silence. They were only a few feet from the door when he felt the hairs on the back of his neck and his forearms stand up. He licked his lips experimentally and sniffed the air, sensing the faint tang of magic, metallic and sharp, lacing the air. A quick glance to Harry told him that he could feel it too, that almost imperceptible something in the air that made the heart pound and the armpits prickle.
Ron pulled an extendible ear from his pocket and slid it under the bottom of the door but still he could hear no signs of life. At last they withdrew their wands silently. "Homenum Revelio" whispered by Harry indicated no signs of humans within the flat.
At last satisfied that they were alone, Harry withdrew a muggle lockpick kit from the backpack and handed it to Ron. He selected a slender metal rod from the black velvet pouch and inserted it into the keyhole. Sucking a breath in through his teeth he jiggled it in the lock, "I know it's better to not leave our magical signatures littered all over the place but I wish there was an easier way than this, you know I'm shit at picking muggle locks."
"Better you than me," Harry admitted, "You know I nearly failed that whole section in Auror Training.
"You and me both mate, I think you were the only one stopping me being bottom of the class – ah, there we go. Old Shacklebolt would be giving me top marks if he could see me now!" With a creak, the door swung open.
"Reckon he'd be giving you something alright, for calling him Old Shacklebolt," Harry snickered as he pulled a small pellet out of his bag, ignited it with the tip of his wand and threw it into the flat. The two of them pulled their jumpers up over their mouths and noses as smoke flooded the hallway.
When no one came running out from within, and once the effects of the smoke bomb had drifted away, only then did the pair dare to creep into the flat, stepping over a pile of takeaway flyers that were piled on the mat. The traces of magic were even stronger once they were inside but there was little sign of recent habitation. A glass of what had once been pumpkin juice sat on a coffee table in the lounge with a thick green layer of fur on it and the air was musty. Harry ran his finger over the table and examined the dust upon it.
"No one's been here for days."
Ron gave him a consolatory pat on the shoulder, "This is definitely the place though, look." He pointed at a jagged scorch mark that snaked across the faded floral wallpaper, "That's a curse mark or my Great Aunt Muriel is Miss America."
They split up and searched the empty rooms but Ron found nothing in the way of evidence. He was just about to give up when his toe made contact with something that rolled away under the sofa with a clank.
Swearing under his breath he got down on his knees and fished about under the couch until his hand made contact with something metallic and he pulled out an ornately decorated pewter flask. He opened it tentatively and sniffed, his nostrils flaring in disgust at a familiar pungent smell.
He was just about to carry his find to Harry when his partner called him from one of the bedrooms. The bed had been upended against the wall and all of the furniture was smashed. Crudely driven into the wall was a large iron ring with thick ropes hanging from it. Harry crouched down and examined the roughly sawn ends of the rope. A thin, stained blanket was crumpled on the floor below them.
"Looks like whoever was staying here had a guest. Can't say I think much of their hospitality, whoever they are."
"I might be able to help with that part at least," Ron offered the flask to Harry, who smelled it in turn.
"Polyjuice" he grimaced.
"That's what I thought too."
"The Lestranges then."
"Looks like it. Although I suppose it doesn't completely rule out the secret army of Death Eaters, it's more likely to be them in disguise. Hello, what's this?" Ron's eye was drawn to to a small piece of purple card partially hidden by the blanket. As he pulled it out the Ministry for Magic's emblem was apparent on the front.
"A regular Miss Marple today aren't you," said Harry as Ron handed it over to him.
"Does she work in the canteen?"
"Never mind."
"Actually I was just kidding with that one, Agatha Christie's one of ours."
Harry unfolded the Ministry ID card to reveal a smiling strawberry blonde girl of about their age.
"Very clever, Amy Jones, leaving this for us to find."
"Hermione was right then. Something bad has happened to her. And if Umbitch was sniffing around here too then it definitely isn't a coincidence. It's something to do with the marriage law."
After a last, fruitless search of the place they decided to retreat in case the inhabitants returned. As they were leaving Ron removed a small plastic disc from the backpack and stuck it under the coffee table.
"Ordinary muggle bugging device." He told Harry, "No magical detection will uncover it. This, however, is a little spell of my own invention." He pointed his wand to the security camera that was directed down the hallway as Harry locked the flat back up behind them. Ron then removed what looked like a small hand mirror and Harry gazed into it in surprise to see the two of them, standing in the corridor. "I've channelled the camera's feed through the mirror. Any movement will be recorded here so we can see if anyone's coming and going."
"Nice. You going to come back to the Ministry with me?"
"Nah, I reckon I'd better go home and wait for Hermione, she'll want to know about this."
"I thought you said that we should leave her out of this?" Harry asked, causing Ron to frown, the serious expression making him look older all of a sudden.
"Yeah but this is different. Amy's her friend, she's the one who's been looking for her. Plus, if Toadface is involved it's obviously all wrapped up in the marriage law. She deserves to know."
Harry clapped him on the back, laughing, "Watch out, I reckon your emotional range is growing. It must be at least the size of a teacup by now. You know, one of those fancy, very small tea cups"
"I try mate, I try." chuckled Ron ruefully, although his mind was already at home with Hermione.