Conjecture
A round of screams emanated from within the house, muffled by the stone walls.
It was a beautiful night, crickets chirping in the high grass even as a warm summer breeze brushed the leaves of the nearby trees and flapped the red robes of the people crouching near the entrance of the house.
Too beautiful for this shit, thought Ronald Weasley, commander of the Auror team.
There was another batch of screams and moans, and it made the Aurors' jaws tighten.
"Hurry the fuck up, Collins," Ronald hissed out before spitting the blade of grass he had been pressing between his teeth.
"I'm fuckin' tryin'" Collins spat back in hushed tones.
There was a buzz in the air as the wards around the house finally crashed. At the same time, Ronald spotted a green flash escaping through the crack under the door.
"He's dead. Fuck!" Ronald whispered harshly, fingering his wand. "Right," he said after he gathered himself, "we go in on three. And for Merlin's sake, don't hold back."
The men behind him readied themselves as he started to count. When he reached three, a violet glow emanated from Collins' wand.
The wooden door with a knocker shaped like a gargoyle exploded inwards, showering the hall on the other side with wooden splinters.
"Go go go!" Ronald shouted and one by one they filed in, sticking close to the ground and finding cover once they were inside the house, all the while shooting spells down the length of the hallway.
Collins settled behind an antique looking shoe rack of some kind, while Ronald flipped a small table that was propped against the wall and crouched behind it. The others filed in one by one while Ronald and Collin scanned the hallway trying to gauge the damage they'd caused and spot their target.
The moonlight filtered through the door as they waited through the few seconds needed for their eyes to adjust to the darkness, barely illuminating the inside of the hall. Still, it was enough for Ronald to make up three doors down the hallway, one on the left, one on the right, and one straight ahead.
And, of course, the corpse of an old man, which was bleeding from the mouth, the eyes and the ears.
"Split up in pairs and find the bastard," Ronald whispered before he moved ahead.
The men divided themselves, each pair settling beside one of the doors in the hallway.
"Everyone, again on three," Ron said, popping his neck and rolling his shoulders. "One, two-"
But three never came, as the doors exploded inwards, showering the Aurors with wooden shrapnel, opening small wounds on their arms, legs and heads, only their chests protected by the standard issue dragon hide armours they were wearing under their robes.
"Contact, contact!" one of the men screamed as he started firing grey spells through the sawdust that clouded their vision. He only had the time to let off two before a red spell flew from the other side of the doorway and slammed into his forehead, knocking him out.
"Shit! Retreat!" yelled Ronald, starting to crawl back to the safety behind the shoe rack as more spells wheezed through the air, taking out two more of his men.
Collins and Ashworth, the rookie that was assigned to Ronald's team just a week ago, were still in the game, although Ashworth had a large piece of wood sticking from the bicep on his left arm.
As he scuttled backwards, dragging his behind on the carpet which was more expensive than everything he owned, Ronald saw Ashworth trying to pull one of the downed men back to safety with him, using his wounded arm no less.
"Leave 'im, ye stupid fuck!" Collins shouted at him. With a sharp jerk of Collins wand, Ashworth slid across the hall and next to Ronald.
Ronald used the same spell to pull Collins behind the table he'd overturned just moments ago, but at the same time, he saw the slumped bodies of the three downed Aurors slide to the left, through the doorway and out of sight.
"Shite! 'E's go'em. 'E's fuckin' go'em," Collins raved as he peeked from behind the overturned table.
"It all went down so fast," Ashworth said in a broken voice as he rocked back and forwards, crouched behind Ronald.
"The kid's loosing it, Collins," Ronald called from across the hall.
"Well I'm no' 'is fuckin' mum," Collins said, before he peeked through the edge of the table. Just then, a red blob of light slammed into his forehead, knocking him backwards. His head made a thumping sound as it smacked against the coat-hanger behind him, and he slumped to the floor.
"Fuck!" Ron shouted, hitting his fist against the shoe rack. Ashworth just shut his eyes tight and started praying to every deity he knew of.
"If we survive this," Ron said through his teeth as he grabbed Ashworth by the front of his robes, pulling him closer, "you're off the force. I'll make fucking sure of it."
The terrified rookie didn't even open his eyes.
Moving away from the cover of the shoe rack, he straightened himself up, and slowly started walking forward, his wand snapping between doorways. He heard a creaking noise to his left so he moved to the right slowly until he had his back to the wall.
It was all about sounds and angles then, as he crept along the wall, his ears perking up to hear the softest sounds the house could make. Ashworth's mumbles to his left irritated him, even though he knew that they covered the small sounds he himself made.
Crouching low, he took a deep breath and pointed his wand to the opening on the left wall, firing a dull grey spell that sped through the air silently. He closed his eyes as soon as he saw it leave the tip of his wand. There was a loud bang and a flash that made him see the back of his eyelids.
Immediately he dived through the doorway and into the room, scanning it with his eyes as he shot spells randomly, hoping to catch the man, who downed his entire team, unawares.
Instead, it was him that got caught unawares. He felt something slam against his back, right between his shoulder blades, even as an invisible force ripped his wand away from his hand. The impact raised him off his feet and he flew forward until he slammed face first into the hardwood floor.
He heard a creak to his left again, and then another, identical one to his right, and then one in front of him and one behind him. And he couldn't be sure, but he thought he even heard the ceiling creak.
It was a trick, and the man they tried to apprehend was having a laugh at him.
He got up on his hands and knees and crawled towards his wand, but it jumped in the air and disappeared through an open window just as he was about to grab it.
He turned around, glaring, curses on the tip of his tongue before he saw the face of the man they were after.
His eyes widened.
"H- Harry?" he asked, his voice catching in his throat.
"Ron," the man, Harry, said while nodding his head in way of greeting.
His green eyes glinted behind a pair of oval eyeglasses, even in the semi-darkness. His jet black hair was messy and dishevelled, sticking this way and that as it always had been. He wasn't particularly tall or lean, and he definitely didn't have the features of a man capable of all that transpired in the last fifteen minutes.
"You killed my men. Why?" Ron simply asked.
Harry didn't answer. Instead, he pulled his wand and moved closer to him. Ronald backpedalled immediately, his eyes going even wider.
"They're not dead, just stunned. Relax, will you? You're bleeding," Harry said, and soft blue light blossomed from the tip of his wand. He could feel the skin on his cheek knitting together and only just realised that it had ripped open somewhere along the fight.
"But you killed the old man and the two before him?" Ron spat from his place on the floor. His hand went up, trying to disarm Harry, but he was faster, and with a flick of his wrist, Ronald's arms snapped to his sides.
"Are you sure you want in on this?" Harry asked, taking a seat on one of the armchairs.
"In on what? You're murdering people Harry. Have you gone off the deep end?" Ronald asked.
"Don't be silly, Ron," Harry said, "I don't crack under pressure. And I don't have a particular taste for murder either. You know that."
"Then why are you doing this?"
"Because I have to. Because no one else can," Harry said.
"Why do you have to kill them? That's crazy talk, Harry."
Harry smiled, although it didn't seem genuine.
"Are you sure you want to know? 'Cause once you do, there's no going back. Once you do, you're on my side of the fence. And this thing... It's big Ron. Bigger than Voldemort, bigger than the Ministry, bigger than the Goblins. Bigger than all of them combined."
Ron was silent for a minute. His friend had gone bonkers. During the war, he always suspected that Harry would crack one day. A guy can't go through all that shit and not crack. But his friend had cracked after the war.
"I want to know," Ronald said. "And, yes, I'm sure," he added once he saw Harry opening his mouth with a warning on the tip of his tongue.
Harry sighed.
"First thing you have to know is that these people are smart. Smarter than me and smarter than you. Smarter than Hermione," Harry said, leaning forward. "They're not stupid or careless enough to leave evidence behind. Everything I have is circumstantial. There's tons of it, but it's all conjecture."
"Then it's all in your head, mate."
"You think?"
"By- By sixth year you were so deep into the shit it made me wonder when you were going to crack," Ron said. "But you never did. But now Harry... Now I'm beginning to think that you got addicted to it."
Harry raised an eyebrow.
"Interesting theory. But I'm afraid it's all wrong, Ron," he said. "I never wanted that. Never wanted what happened. But I had to do it. And I had to go all the way. Same goes for this."
There was a slight pause, before Harry talked again.
"Remember when me and Dumbledore had our lessons, in sixth year, about Voldemort and his... things?"
"Yeah."
"Something didn't feel right about that. Something was off – nagging me constantly. So I dug a bit deeper into his history."
"Harry. I know you don't want to hear this, but I think you're obsessed with him."
Harry grinned.
"Perhaps. But I did find something," Harry said. "Remember how Riddle got a job at Borgin and Burkes? Well, it turns out he filed employment applications to Flourish and Blott's, Ollivander's, even signed up for Auror Academy."
Ronald raised an eyebrow.
"They all turned him down. Each and every one of them. And it's not like he wasn't talented. It was as if someone was goading him towards Borgin and Burkes."
"Listen to yourself. Why would anyone want that?"
"We'll get back to that later. I dug further back, to the orphanage he was staying in. Remember Mrs. Cole?" Harry asked and Ron nodded. "There had been suspicious money transfers to her personal bank account. It wasn't easy, but I dug it up. Later, I learned that all those money transfers came from accounts which were all under the same name."
Harry stuck a hand in the inner pockets of his robe and tossed a wallet at Ron. It dropped open on the floor, a muggle ID on the name of a Jason Smith peeking behind the see through nylon.
"Jason Smith, and that's not his real name as we both know, had been paying off Mrs. Cole ever since she took in Riddle in the orphanage. The payments stopped once Riddle moved away. The only reason any wizard would pay her off, and in that particular period of time, would be because of her connection to Riddle. She was paid to make sure he didn't get comfy in that orphanage."
"You're suggesting there was a conspiracy to start the war," Ron said, his mind putting two and two together. He looked up from the ID and stared Harry in the eyes. "Is this why you left my sister?"
Harry nodded.
"I knew they were going to find out I was on to them sooner or later. I had to do something to protect her, and you and Hermione. That's why I broke up with her and distanced myself from all of you."
Ron fumed.
"And what if all this is just coincidence. What if it's just... conjecture, as you said? You broke my sister's heart, you fucking arsehole!"
"I'm sorry Ron. For both you and your sister. And for Hermione. But this," he said, pointing at the wallet with the muggle ID, "this is just the tip of the iceberg. I've got more, too much to tell you in one sitting."
"Yeah? Yeah? To what end, Harry. Why would these people – who might not even be connected – do this? Why?"
"Money," Harry said. "It all boils down to money. Jason there," he said, jerking his head towards the hallway, "made a killing on the market shortly before, during and right after the war."
"That doesn't prove anything!"
"In conjecture with the fact that he had controlled the life of the person who started that war," Harry said, leaning forward, "it does give light to his – their motives. Without the details, it's simple enough. You control a war, you control the market. The Wizengamot would throw it all away, of course. But I can't."
"They'd be right to throw it away. It's not proof Harry. You killed a man because of suspicion."
"Remember sixth year Ron? I suspected Malfoy too. Think back on what he did."
Ron calmed down after he heard that. Harry had been right then. They didn't have proof, they didn't act. As a result, Death Eaters stormed the castle. If it wasn't for that Felix Felicis...
"Some people out there are making money on the blood of George and Arthur. Think about that."
Harry's watch beeped and he looked at the time.
"Our time is drawing short," he said. "I'll leave you with one last... well, it's not proof. Conjecture."
With a wave of his wand, Ron's hands were free.
"Who tipped you off that I'd be here?" Harry asked.
"It was an anonymous tip."
"And who received it?" Harry asked, his eyes not leaving the watch.
"Ashworth," Ronald said. Suddenly he felt uneasy. "The new guy."
"When did he join your team?"
Ronald gulped.
"A week ago,"
"Right after my second 'murder', and right after you were put on this case," Harry said. "Was there something unusual about it?"
"He got top marks from Auror Academy, finished it in half the regular time."
"Yet he was useless in there, as if he had been, and excuse the pun, half trained. Who did he replace?"
"Robards. He was given the boot the same day. Sexual harassment."
"Say no more," Harry said. "One last thing, though. Do you have authorisation to use lethal force on this mission?"
Ronald didn't say anything, just nodded, his brow furrowing. What did lethal force had to do with what they had discussed previously?
They stayed silent for a moment, Ronald lost in his thoughts and newborn suspicions. There was another beep from Harry's watch, interrupting the silence, and he pressed one of the buttons next to it. Slowly, he stood up and took a deep breath, aiming his wand at a surprised Ronald's face.
"STUPEFY!"
The jet of red light slammed in Harry's back and knocked him off his feet. He fell face first down on the floor.
Ashworth stood behind him, his wand shaking along with his hand.
Ronald exhaled loudly.
"It's alright son," Ronald said, standing up and slowly inching toward Ashworth. "It's alright. You got him. Good job."
"You're not gonna kick me from the force?" Ashworth asked, his whole body shaking. With a heave he threw up on the floor. Ron moved closer to him, his neck craning to the fallen body of his former friend.
Ashworth finished throwing up and was now standing straight and breathing deeply.
"No. You did great," Ron said with a grin. "You're probably going to get a medal for this."
"Yeah? I don't feel too good," Ashworth said, and Ronald helped him take a seat on the sofa. "He killed them. Killed them all."
"Nah, he just stunned them. Here, give me your wand and I'll wake them all up while you rest."
Ashworth gave him the wand and sank back into the soft overpriced cushions on the large sofa, closing his bloodshot eyes.
"You did good kid, real good." Ron said, patting him on the shoulder. "Obliviate."
Behind him, Harry's watch beeped.