In the Crosshairs
Dragon Voldemort
Chapter 81: Brooms
Wednesday morning, after his run, Harry entered Gia's bedroom, where she was stroking Hedwig's feathers.
"Better than the dream," Gia said, "Watched myself vanish in a puff of smoke."
"Yeah, sorry," Harry said, "Guess I…worry."
Gia reached, her arms onto his shoulders, hands behind him, those blue eyes focused on his.
"You've had a lifetime of nightmares," Gia said, "Both real and in your head. We'll help you the best we can, takes time, that's all."
Gia's hands went onto his shoulders, massaged into them.
"Better?" Gia asked.
Crookshanks jumped off the bed, and Harry opened the door for him. Harry turned, Gia put her arms one at a time as she pulled on the protective kevlar vest.
"Um…" Harry started.
"Makes her look fat," Ron said.
"Ron!" Hermione snapped.
"You all know what you need to work on so I don't have to," Gia said, "Kristen's taken us in, so I'll let her have her mark."
Gia pulled her bottle green blouse on.
"It's really tight," Gia said, "Is there something better in the magical world? Something that stops bullets?"
"Dragon hide should work," Ron said, "It's bloody expensive—slaying dragons is rather bad for one's health, it pisses the others off."
"Got holsters," Harry said.
"Small stuff—sure," Ron said, "Dragons do die naturally, but they live a long time."
"Madam Malkin's?" Harry asked.
"Fresh supply of wizard hide if you tried," Ron said, "Yours wouldn't fit me."
Harry snorted.
"I'm all ears for something better," Gia said as she pulled up her green slacks.
"Ask Fred and George where we can find some," Harry suggested.
"Sure—along with clearing out these bounties," Ron said.
"This muggle vest only covers her chest," Harry said.
"He'll ask," Hermione promised.
Gia pulled on her dark green jumper, Harry followed her out of the bedroom. Down the stairs, out the door. Ashley, Ernie, and Snuffles joined in.
"You've got tricks," Gia said to Harry, "I don't, so I'll take all the help I can get."
"Sorry about this," Harry said, "Know—"
"Everybody gets in over their head at some point," Gia said, "Everybody needs help at times. Don't be too proud to accept it."
"Guess so," Harry said.
"In exchange," Gia said, "I get somebody who walks me to school."
Harry snorted.
"Um…" Harry said, "If it were normal, might have practice, but… doing another act?"
"Gym this afternoon," Gia said, "Guess last week really messed up their schedules, seems to be going back to normal."
Harry reached, held her hand as they walked, reached the footbridge, and crossed the grass to the portable classrooms. Came to the one that still bore the bullet holes in the railing, ones from previous week, they stopped.
"Love you," Harry said.
Harry went a bit up on his toes as he leaned over, kissed her. Harry turned, went between the portable classrooms and activated his Portkey. Harry landed in Gia's bedroom, Hermione already there and dressed for school.
"No notes?" Harry asked.
Hermione shook her head. Harry pulled on his trousers.
"Maybe have Gia fix these up?" Ron asked.
Harry grabbed his Firebolt, shoved it into his pocket. He buttoned up the dress shirt.
"Makes for a convenient noose," Harry said as he tied his Gryffindor tie.
Hermione glared.
"Sorry, a joke," Harry said.
"Not funny," Hermione said.
"I got that," Harry said.
"Bit hungry," Ron said.
Harry took out his Hogwarts Pin as he grabbed his book bag. He activated the Portkey, Ron and Hermione held on.
"Whoa," Harry said, "We're not suspended."
Harry glanced around the dormitory, Ginny at the small table working on a plate of strawberry covered cauldron cakes. Luna held a tea cup in her hands by Neville's bed in front of that window.
"Nothing's happened today," Ginny said.
"Eating up here?" Ron asked.
Harry wandered over to Neville's four–poster, stared out of the window. Hogwarts grounds below and the lake to the edge.
"Not everybody hates you Harry," came Luna's voice.
"Colin's in the loo," Ginny asked, "Seen Dad yet?"
"Caught me in bed yesterday," Ron said.
Harry imagined that.
"Yes, most of Hogwarts has turned on you," Luna said, "It's not as hopeless as you may think, you still have some supporters here."
Harry kept quiet, watched a bit of rain battle it out against snow on part of the roof below.
Harry turned, Colin stood, along with Neville coming out of the lavatory. Ron and Hermione got up, Harry joined them as they left the dormitory.
"She's a prat!" Ron seethed.
They went down the stairs. A hunch, Harry jumped the bottom step. Hermione tripped, and Harry caught her.
"Ta," Hermione said.
Ron jumped, and they went out the portrait hole.
Only a couple of minutes separated Harry, Ron, and Hermione from Gryffindor Tower to the first floor, though other students mostly moved fast out of the way. Harry stopped them along the third floor, spotted something. Harry carefully stepped over what appeared to be a new crack in the stone beneath a blackened effigy of himself. Hermione did this. Ron aimed his wand, conjured ropes that flew onto the crack. A snap, the flash of fire, and the ropes vanished.
"Good eye," Ron said to Harry.
"Guess Mad–Eye isn't joking," Hermione said.
"Never is," Harry said.
Another attempt, they went down the steps, to the first floor office, entered. One glance at those eyes behind the square glasses, Harry knew he wasn't about to like it as he grabbed it.
"Given past performance," Professor McGonagall said, "I only worried about the morning half of the schedule, I'm sure the afternoon's going to be…interesting."
Harry turned, Ron and Hermione followed.
"Wise choice," Ron muttered as they left the office.
Harry peered at his, the first lesson wasn't unexpected, Potions.
"Heading for a suspension anyways," Harry muttered as they went down the steps of the marble staircase.
"Get one early?" Ron asked.
"No!" Hermione said, "Stop thinking like that—don't invite it! You're better than them"
"Was that a compliment?" Ron scratched his head.
Harry's hand fidgeted a bit, he wanted to go for his wand as he approached the crowd before the dungeon. Some in canary yellow like Susan Bones, some still in their Hogwarts uniforms like Parvati Patil, Neville Longbottom, Crabbe, Goyle, and Draco Malfoy. Shiny metal of the others, ones Harry assumed included the likes of Seamus Finnigan, Ernie Macmillan, and Dean Thomas. Two Ministry Aurors, name–badges on their robes, a wizard Wakefield and a witch Dunnett. Harry caught the eyes of the armor with rust around the metal pins, Finnigan's armor squeaked.
"Supposed to oil that regularly," Dean Thomas said to Finnigan, his visor fell over his eyes, closed it.
"Better to hassle with that than the alternative," Ernie Macmillan said, metal hands of his armor banged away at the wall.
"Wise investment," Malfoy sneered.
Crabbe and Goyle nodded in agreement, arms crossed, both flanked Malfoy with several inches over their alpha.
"Where's yours?" Lavender Brown asked, her armor in pink.
"I think I could handle Potter if I had to," Malfoy said.
"Belt it!" Harry snapped.
"Outburst in the corridors." Dunnett worked up a note, handed it to Harry. "Watch your mouth, Potter."
"Potter never learns," said Professor Snape. His robes billowed as he came through, he opened he door.
"Ignore it," Ron whispered to Harry.
Harry was third to last to enter the classroom, only Ron and Hermione were later, where Harry took the only available table, in the front center. Professor Snape already had his glare ready as the wand waved, the chalkboard flipped.
"Today," Professor Snape said, "A Depressing Potion, to be tested."
"Hate this already," Ron whispered to Harry and Hermione.
Harry caught a glimpse of Neville as he went over to the supply cupboard. A satchel with Harry's name on it, written in pink. Harry extended his wand, used it to carry the satchel back to the desk. A glance to Ron.
"Careful," Harry thought.
"Don't touch—got it," Ron replied.
Harry turned back around. Back to the back, Harry grabbed a cauldron, added a lot water, and carried it back to the table, along with two more.
Harry distributed the water between the two other cauldrons.
"Heat," Hermione said, lighting the burner beneath the cauldrons.
"Cut," Hermione said to Harry.
Harry took the knife to the knotgrass, cut it into chunks, divided it between the three cauldrons. Harry grabbed the pestle, worked on grinding the beetle eyes. A glance back to Ron.
"Can we go correspondence?" Harry wondered.
"Get taught by Fred and George?" Ron thought.
"Neville's better at teaching than this jerk," Harry thought.
Ron snorted.
"Will you two stop gossiping?" Hermione said.
"You had to spill to her," Harry thought.
"FOCUS!" Hermione snapped.
Harry kept working at the ingredients, stirred his.
…
Ron walked around the table, stood in front of his cauldron.
"What?" Ron said, "Easier to stir."
Ron glanced around the classroom, at the eyes of his classmates, most avoided the return, most as unhappy as the next for being stuck in this lesson, caught Harry's glance.
"Good idea," Harry thought.
"Too suspicious if both of us…" Ron started.
"Shh!" Ron whispered to Hermione.
Ron continued his glances, while also watching his potion, though he also knew he wasn't the only one around the table, Seamus Finnigan's armor threw across a swath of yellow, swirled. Anthony Goldstein in armor of canary yellow wondered how Ron's death would be assigned blame for claiming the bounties.
"Weasley!" came Professor Snape's voice.
Ron leaned forward over the table, kissed Hermione on the cheek.
"Ten points!" Professor Snape snapped.
"Disgusting," said Parvati Patil.
Ron went back around, stood next to Hermione. Ron's eyes went to the Professor's, the dark ones that tore back. Ron brought back memories of Friday, with Hermione, the full date, as Snape tried to dig in. A glare.
"Longbottom!" Professor Snape snapped.
A glance past Hermione to Harry, Ron caught those bottle green eyes.
"You tried—?" Harry thought.
"Didn't mean to," Ron replied.
"Avoid it," Harry retorted.
"You try it," Ron thought.
"No way," Harry said.
A glare from Hermione, but Ron shook his head.
"Shh," Ron whispered to her.
Harry dropped in two spider legs, stirred, and tapped with his wand, the potion turned pink. Ron watched his potion change from yellow to pink. Hermione worked on hers. Snape walked over to Neville Longbottom's.
"Blue," Professor Snape said, "You added three spider legs, not two?"
Neville Longbottom nodded, trembled.
"Test it," Professor Snape said, "Hope your friends are in the mood to help you."
It clicked in Ron, the resulting potion, his wand now in his hand, watched the fear in Neville's eyes as he went to ladle it into a cup. Neville shook as he sipped his potion, metal of Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas nearly blocked.
"What's it do?" Finnigan asked.
Neville's hand reached for a knife, raised it toward his own throat. Harry ran, jumped with one foot to the table, pushed into Neville, grabbed the knife, and threw it to the floor. Dunnett already had her wand trained on Harry, while the rest of the class focused on Harry and Neville. Neville reached for the other knife.
A swish and flick, Ron focused his mind sharp on the word, the aim tight, thought the charm, "Ventris autoodium!"
A fast flick, a mouse spleen flew from the back right, where Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle stood, hit into Harry's cauldron.
"Thirty points each," Snape said, "Potter, no attempted—"
"I didn't!" Harry protested.
Harry came back to the table as Professor Snape stepped to ladle from Harry's cauldron.
"Orange?" Professor Snape sneered.
"It was pink!" Harry protested.
"Another thirty points," Professor Snape sneered, "Class dismissed."
Neville Longbottom bolted for the door.
Ron put his into two flasks, handed one to Harry, and labeled his name on it. He carried his cauldron over to the sink, to the corner nobody else was, and dumped out the rest of his pink potion.
"Why'd it turn orange?" Harry asked, dumping his out.
"Think it was Malfoy," Ron said.
"Figures," Harry said, "And Longbottom—?"
"Three is a suicide potion," Ron said.
"You saved him," Hermione said to Harry, "Nobody'll thank you."
Ron wasn't quite so sure. A lift of his book–bag, Ron left the classroom with Harry and Hermione.
"Strange leaving there as scheduled," Harry said.
"For once," Hermione said, "Somebody would've lost that bet."
They went up the steps, over a puddle of vomit on the stairs.
"Um…" Harry muttered.
Ron realized he'd gotten the curse right, continued with Harry and Hermione, wondered for a moment if they were being followed.
"One moment," Hermione said on the first floor.
Hermione went into the girl's lavatory. Ron and Harry followed her in.
"You shouldn't be in here," Hermione protested.
"You need body guards," Ron stated.
Harry nodded.
"Want us in your cubicle?" Ron asked.
Hermione went into one. Ron and Harry went into adjacent stalls. Ron stepped up onto the toilet seat as the lavatory door swung open.
"Knew it," Millicent Bulstrode said, "Mudblood's bag."
"Thirty two thousand," Pansy Parkinson said, "Quick."
Ron spotted their heads moving fast for the cubicle door, Parkinson slammed into it. Ron reached for the latch.
"PATIENCE!" Hermione shouted.
Bulstrode took a run, a jump, her foot against the door, shattered it. Ron stepped out of his cubicle, wand aimed, as Harry stepped out of the other.
"We're supposed to be killers," Harry asked, "Want to find out?"
Ron caught a hint of doubt behind Parkinson's eyes, and the fear in Bulstrode's.
"No no," Bulstrode said, "Simple misunderstanding, thought the door was stuck. Nothing to murder us over."
Bulstrode and Parkinson backed up, left the bathroom.
"See?" Ron said.
Ron aimed his wand, the door repaired itself. Harry leaned back against the divider.
"None of us venture here alone," Harry said, "Especially you Hermione."
"You don't think—" Hermione started.
"You're brilliant," Harry said, "More than makes up for it. Ron's…muscle."
Hermione snorted, Ron glared at Harry.
"It's true isn't it?" Harry asked.
"We could really use a mountain troll right about now," Ron said.
Harry belted out a laugh.
"Go and ask Hagrid," Ron said.
"He's already got the name picked out," Hermione said, "It's Tiny."
Harry snickered at the same time the toilet flushed. The lock on the cubicle door slid, and Hermione came out. She went over to the sink.
"Try the Great Hall for lunch?" Ron asked.
"Thought you frowned on suicide," Harry said.
"DOBBY!" Ron shouted, "IF YOU'RE LISTENING, LUNCH IN THE LIBRARY PLEASE!"
"Should go to the kitchens for that," Hermione said.
"Worth a try," Ron said as they left the lavatory.
Underneath a couple of effigies of Ron, they went up the stairs, onto the fifth floor. They entered the library. Metal crashed, moved fast, along with the canary yellow, as the others left, fast. A mad glance from Madam Pince.
"Sorry," Hermione said, "We…"
"Could always bang," Ron said.
"Not with me today," Hermione said.
Harry pointed to a table in the middle of the room. A couple of plates appeared, sandwiches showed up, and the pointed ear House Elf.
"Dobby happy to help Harry Potter," Dobby said.
"Ta," Harry said, "Socks are at…not here."
"Dobby understands," Dobby said, "Dobby listens if Harry Potter or his friends needs anything."
Dobby snapped his fingers, vanished.
"All to ourselves," Ron said, glanced about.
"Get anything?" Harry asked, pointed to his own eyes.
Ron mulled it all over.
"One seemed worried over who'd get credit if everybody killed us," Ron said, "Pansy…maybe she doesn't get scared? Bulstrode was."
"You two," Hermione said.
"It's important," Harry said, "We're not as good as…anyways, maybe one of them knows something to crack this stupid knot we're in."
"Neville," Ron said, "Confused, I think."
Ron tapped his quill on the desk, as Professor Flitwick lectured. Ron now agreed with Harry, they'd be better off suspended, he'd get more done in less time, though he also figured Professor McGonagall hadn't expected them to last this long. A glance to the Aurors that stood nearby, both equally bored yet semi–attentive to Harry and Ron.
"Get out your wands," Professor Flitwick said, "Try anything funny and you won't try anything ever again."
Ron understood the threat, didn't need to read the professor's eyes to figure out the hostility, a belief in what had been seen. Still, Ron stood, his fourteen inch wand in his hand, focused at the spot above the kiddie pool. A concentration, a swish and flick, and aimed, the stream poured fast forward, hit the umbrella and drained into the pool.
"Best be careful that doesn't rust," Malfoy said as Seamus Finnigan stood up.
Shiny silvery metal, Finnigan lifted his visor.
"Hot in this stuff," Finnigan confessed, as he raised his wand, "Aguamenti!"
Again, like Ron's, water poured from that wand, however, it dropped fast into the pool. Hermione stood, aimed, hers was perfect, matched the picture out of Standard Book of Spells, Grade Six. They all rotated, except for Neville not present, until it was Harry's turn.
Fingers of the armor clutched their chairs, the wands of the two Aurors already in hand. Harry swished and flicked.
"Aguamenti!" Harry shouted.
Fast torrent poured, a funnel of water sprayed forward, grew big, ricocheted, to become rain from the ceiling over the flood on the floor. Ron's shoes got soaked.
"Heard WD-40 is supposed to do wonders to protect metal," Dean Thomas said, "Should try it."
"A life preserver would've been better," Ernie Macmillan grumbled.
"Sorry," Harry said.
Harry left the classroom, Ron and Hermione followed.
"Gotta go to Dumbledore," Harry said.
"Why?" Ron asked.
Harry turned around, those bottle green eyes fixed on Ron.
"We—I—" Harry started.
"Haven't a fucking clue why we lasted the whole day here," Ron said, he scratched his head, tried to count on his fingers, "When was the last one?"
"December?" Hermione asked.
"Got practice," Ron said.
Harry stared at Ron, a bit of perplexion in those bottle green eyes.
"Pitch or not," Ron said, "I've not flown in weeks."
"Check the Hospital Wing," Hermione said, "See who's there?"
"Go to the pub tonight," Ron said, "Celebrate after we—"
"Not going to last," Harry said.
Ron stared for a moment, heard the tap of the cane as he turned around. Sky blue robes, Minister Fallerschain led the pack, Aurors Pedlinge and Edred flanked him. Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore brought up the rear.
"Excuse me," the Minister said, "We don't need that."
Ron's and Harry's wands already in hand, shirt sleeves and jumper still down to their wrists, both wands aimed toward the floor. Both Ron and Harry stood in front of Hermione, only Ron's taller stature kept them from being truly shoulder to shoulder, Harry to Ron's left.
"You've proven otherwise," Harry said to the Minister, "Try nothing."
"Your Brooms," the Minister said, "Hand them over—"
"Strange," Ron said, "Don't see mine."
"Hush Minister," said Professor McGonagall as she stepped forward, "Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, the Minister claims to have heard credible allegations that your Firebolts are jinxed, ready for the use of Dark Arts on your opponents."
"They're not!" Harry protested.
"That is for us to find out," Pedlinge said.
"Practice!" Ron protested, "We haven't practiced in ages!"
"That's your own faults," Fallerschain snapped.
"Be reasonable Minister," Professor McGonagall said, "They do have practice momentarily."
"Minister," Professor Dumbledore said, "Might I suggest that they use them for practice. We hold them in safekeeping while not in use, say in Mr. Wood's office—the Quidditch instructor?"
Ron spotted the mechanisms in the minister mulling it over. A touch from Harry's hand, the reminder of the friend Ron was trying to defend.
"I will supervise this practice to enforce the mandate," Minister Fallerschain said, "The repository for the brooms will be deferred until later."
Minister Fallerschain's robes swayed as he marched off with his Aurors; Dumbledore's cane went as fast as he could, but unable to keep up.
"Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley," McGonagall said, "Your Quidditch robes are in my office."
Ron reached back, held Hermione's hand as he turned around. Harry walked to the other side of her, and they all followed Professor McGonagall past the graffiti on the wall.
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
DEATH TO POTTER
A light rain outside the windows in overcast sky, they made it down to the first floor, entered Professor McGonagall's office. Professor McGonagall opened the wardrobe, the robes of scarlet red hung from two hangers.
"You've been a bit busy to notice," Professor McGonagall said, as she handed the robes over, "Managed to safe guard these in time, before…people decided to take their grudges out within your dormitory."
"Thank you," Harry said, a moment, "Professor."
"I'll step outside," Professor McGonagall said, "Miss. Granger, you may wait—"
"She's not leaving our sights," Harry said, "Not here."
"Understandable," Professor McGonagall said, "Certainly you can't go everywhere."
"We stopped an attack in the girls lavatory," Ron said.
"I do not advocate entering a girls lavatory," Professor McGonagall said.
"What other choice do we have?" Harry said, "Hogwarts ain't safe for us, so we're not leaving her to be attacked again."
"Any indiscretion—" Professor McGonagall started.
"She'd attack us," Ron said.
A thin grin to the Professor's lips, and she left the office.
"Besides," Ron said, "Who'd carry our old robes?"
A jab from Hermione to his stomach, Ron stepped back, focused for a moment on those flashing brown eyes. Ron and Harry changed into their Quidditch Robes. Firebolts in hand, they left the castle for the Quidditch Pitch.
Ron blew the whistle at the end of the practice, the darkness of the later afternoon setting in deep. Wind blew as he flew down, watched as Harry escorted Hermione down from the top box. Aside from Ginny and Colin, the others including Natalie MacDonald ran fast away.
Sky blue robes beneath the large umbrella, now with lanterns that hung from it, a third Auror that had joined the small posse, the Minister's eyes were on Ron and Harry.
"Your brooms!" Minister Fallerschain demanded.
"Where do we store them?" Harry asked.
"You heard the Minister, said Auror Saltwood, "Hand them over."
"What assurances do we have about security?" Ron asked, "Wouldn't want them stolen under Ministry care."
"They will be in one of our secure offices," Saltwood said, "So hand them over."
"Or you do not play on Saturday," the Minister said, "And it will be listed as a forfeit."
Ron handed his over first to Saltwood, Harry was next.
"You will be permitted to use them for practices and the games," Fallerschain said, "We wouldn't want to risk any accidents."
Fallerschain smiled, peered over the brooms. Saltwood carried them both up toward the castle.
"Why do I have a bad feeling about this?" Ron asked Harry.
"Who—?" Hermione started.
"Sorry, I'm so sorry!" Ginny said as she ran up, "I…let it slip, they worked it up, thinking you two might… you know, use Dark Arts and all."
"Gin!" Ron stammered, his eyes glared.
"Watch Hufflepuff cave," Ginny said, "Like they'd risk it."
"You bastard!" Ron continued, his anger began to rise, "How could you?"
"You want to win, right?" Ginny said, "Well, you can't do anything to me now, an Auror's looking."
Ron spun, scanned. "Where?" Ginny was already gone.
"Get some boggarts," Hermione said, "Couple of spiders? Demeantors?"
"No!" Harry snapped.
"Reschedule the game for midnight?" Hermione asked.
"Here," Harry said as he got out his portkey.
They squeezed in between the stands, and Harry activated it. Jerks behind the naval, they were pulled south.
Gia left the girls locker room that afternoon, Snuffles and Ernie already there, waiting. Some clouds invaded above, the gentle breeze in mild winter air.
"This is—ridiculous!" Jen said.
"There's credible threats," said Ashley, in her police uniform.
"Maybe it'll get me out of tomorrow's book report?" Richard grumbled as he scratched at his shirt, the protective vest beneath it, "It'll be hot."
In the middle between Richard and Jen, Gia left the school; the Ashley in front, Ernie in the rear, and Snuffles roamed around. Gia fidgeted with her shirt, pulled at it.
"Suppose it could be worse," Richard said, "Having my Mum insist on driving."
"Harry'd…" Gia started.
"That's pissing her off too," Richard said, "Where's his school?"
Gia knew the hassle, almost felt smothered by protection, when she needed only one, and he hadn't shown up as he usually did.
"What is going on?" Jen asked.
"Not here," Gia said, suddenly aware of the exposure.
Gia's mind started to race to where somebody could hide. Fear came to her in realizing somebody could anywhere in the double stack of double floor flats, or waiting behind one of the tall brick walls separating the road from a front garden. Snuffles went ahead, around, and doubled back, turned at the end of Ashton Lane onto George Road.
"Ow!" Gia exclaimed as she moved her ring finger to her mouth.
"What?" Richard asked.
"Nothing," Gia lied.
Another shock to her ring finger as a car sped past. Gia halted to suck her finger again.
CRACK, CRACK, THUD
Ashley, in front, dropped and the soreness hit Gia's front. Snuffles barked as he pushed Gia down, backing her to a crouch against a building.. Blood flowed in the gutter from a large gaping hole in Ashley's head, while Ernie moved to cover Gia too. Again, the car returned, barrel out the side, and Snuffles pushed Gia down into a stairwell.
CRACK! CRACK!
Several windows shattered.
"Shots fired!" Ernie shouted into his radio, "Officer down! Corner of George and Ashton. Vehicle four door blue Toyota…sedan!"
"Gia," Richard said, crouched, "Your shirt."
Jen turned, lifted Gia's shirt, the bullet hole went across her heart, lodged in the vest beneath.
"Thought this was too hot?" Jen asked.
"Tender," Gia said.
Ernie came over to them.
"Paramedics on their way," Ernie said, "Car's coming to pick you up, so stay put. Alright?"
"Checking," Richard said, working his own shirt.
"She…" Jen started.
"Where?" Ernie asked.
Jen pointed to the vest.
"Check underneath," Ernie said.
Jen lifted the vest and the brassiere, a bruise beneath.
"Could've been worse," Ernie said, "Keep checking."
Ernie paced away.
"All this to get me?" Gia muttered.
"You're sure?" Richard asked.
"Think it's two hundred thousand on my head," Gia said.
"What?" Jen asked, "Somebody wants you dead? That's…that explains a lot, but why?"
"Not here," Gia said.
Jen put the vest back down. Sirens grew as the police cars, ambulances, pulled up. Kristen walked over to them.
"Another attempt," Gia said,
"Hurt?" Kristen asked.
"Bruised," Gia said.
"This is serious," Kristen said, "I need to talk to you at the station. So, if you need medical—"
"No," Gia said.
"My car," Kristen said, pointed.
Gia stood back up, went as pointed. Richard, and Jen crowded into the police cruiser, Jen in front while Snuffles circled outside. Gia realized she couldn't stay silent, not to Richard and Jen.
"They're after Harry," Gia said.
"After him?" Jen asked.
"I thought him joking when we first met," Gia said, "He's not kidding around, he's not trying to talk about it either, doesn't want us involved, but here we are."
"How bad are we talking?" Jen asked.
"Hit contract were taken out," Gia said, "Him, me."
"It's why Mum's so freaking controlling," Richard said.
Kristen opened the driver side door, Snuffles jumped in, sat with Jen. Kristen got in.
"I'm glad you're safe," Kristen said, "I get to write a letter of condolence."
Richard stayed quiet, so did Gia, as Kristen drove the car.
"Heh!" Richard exclaimed as they pulled into the police station driveway, and kept moving.
"Inmate intake is the safest," Kristen said, took a left into it.
Gates shut behind them, and she pulled into the parking spot.
"Notice the lack of restraints," Kristen said as she got out.
Kristen opened the back doors, Richard and Gia climbed out. Jen and Snuffles got out the front.
"We must do this by the book," Kristen said, "That means interviews, sorry about that."
Kristen flashed her badge, the door opened. Small photo cameras mounted to the counter, Gia heard a brief sob in the distance, the ribbons on badges.
"Chief!" came the holler as Frank entered the room, "You want to take a look at this."
A letter handed to Kristen.
"What Mum?" Richard asked.
"Interview them," Kristen said, "Don't have time for separate, I need to call Kurt."
"Photocopy is on your desk," Frank said, shuffling it into a manila folder.
A motion, Richard and Jen led the way, Gia and Snuffles followed, into a small crowded room. Frank sat down.
"Sorry about the burden," Frank said, "We need this interview video recorded, hopefully you understand."
"Yes," Richard said.
"Please," Frank said, "Know you left the school, please explain."
Richard explained first, the walk, the shots, the car, Snuffles pushing Gia to shelter.
"Smart dog," Frank said, his eyes turned to Jen.
Jen explained it from her perspective.
Frank's eyes turned to Gia.
Gia began to explain, the action with the shots.
"This seems to center around your boyfriend," Frank said.
A growl from Snuffles.
"Bad dog," Gia said, turned back to Frank. "Sorry, this new flea treatment, wasn't as all natural as promised, so I think he's allergic to the pesticide…I need to get him home for a good bath as quickly as possible."
Gia had to bite her tongue as she spotted the glare from Snuffles' face.
"We'll walk home," Richard offered.
"You Mum's wrath would be worse than those bullets," Frank said as he stood.
Frank knocked on the door, it opened. Kristen stood there.
"Your vest?" Kristen asked Gia.
"It stopped the bullet," Richard said.
"Come," Kristen said.
Gia followed, and they went back out, to the car, and got in.
"Let me know the minute Harry shows up," Kristen said as she started the cruiser.
"Yes," Gia said.
They moved fast, the lights and sirens now on, headed toward 26 Oak Street.
"Slow down Mum!" Richard said.
"My day—inside, fast," Kristen said as she slid onto the front yard.
Kristen got out, opened up the back door. Richard got out, Gia followed into the house in firebrick orange and the green front door. Up the steps, Gia took the vest off before she made it into her bedroom. Gia laid on the bed, when Hedwig flapped her wings, and landed next to Gia.
"Hi," Gia said to the bird, those wide eyes, "Seen him yet?"
Gia reached over, stroked a few feathers, hand over the head, and repeated. Door closed, Sirius Black loomed in his tattered brown suit.
"Flea treatment?" Sirius asked.
"First rule of distraction," Gia said, "Irrelevancy."
"Oh," Sirius said.
"Harry'd…he'd laugh," Gia said, "Any word?"
"Strangely enough, no," Sirius said.
"Maybe that's good," Gia said, "Still, third attempt."
"Sorry you've had this trial by fire," Sirius said, "Sure Lupin would be more than willing to make accommodations."
"And the Weasleys," Gia said, "Heck, might even ask my uncles."
"After the fuss last summer?" Sirius asked.
"It'd put even more people in danger," Gia said, "Harry won't have that—it's a game of who do we kill with kindness."
A knock, Sirius vanished with Snuffles in the place, and the door opened. Snuffles left as Richard entered. Boxers beneath the white undershirt, Richard walked between the half–height dresser and bed.
"Was about to take Jen home," Richard said, "Mum."
"She worries about you," Gia said, her eyes up at his hazel eyes beneath the short cut brown hair, "That bullet—what if he aimed a couple feet to my right?"
"Shit," Richard muttered.
"Up?" Gia said, "No helmets to guard our heads either."
Color drained from his face. Richard turned, went for the door. Gia's fingers returned to the bird, the finger stroking, with those wide eyes, the reminder of the loyalty Harry inspires.
Harry watched the ground pass fast beneath them, the pull as the Portkey took them all back toward Noigate.
"We actually did it," Harry said, "Full day."
"Something's up," Hermione said.
"Or it's Neville," Harry said.
"Not with my curse," Ron admitted.
They landed in Noigate, in Gia's bedroom. Gia already laying topless on her side on the bed; Crookshanks to the other side with his tail that moved, those eyes spotted them.
"Check the Hospital Wing again," Harry said, "Or St. Mungo's, somebody's sick."
"Nice dresses," said Andy, on the upper landing.
Gia's door closed.
Harry pulled the Quidditch robes off, hung them up in the closet.
"Wondering if you'd pay attention," Gia said.
Harry turned, her chest, the dark mark between her cleavage. Harry climbed onto the bed, sat as he ran his fingers onto it, she winced.
"A bullet," Gia said.
Gia's arm wrapped around Harry, pulled him down, and she put her full weight down on him, pinned him onto the bed.
"What?" Harry asked.
Harry fidgeted, however, Gia reached and held his shoulders.
"For once that vest was a good idea," Gia said, "Means a bruise instead of worse."
Those blue eyes that focused on him, watched as she explained her day, the memory of Ashley with half her head missing.
"She's…dead?" Harry asked.
Harry twitched, he wanted to bolt, except Gia's hands held him firm and his accidental magic refused to cooperate. Harry managed to twist, to face down, and her hands worked his butt.
"Need me to lend a hand?" Ron asked.
"No," Harry grumbled.
"We'll let you two—sort it out," Ron said.
"Ron!" Hermione snapped.
Harry snorted, heard the door open and close.
"Thank you for not doing anything…rash," Gia said.
Harry knew what she was talking about.
"Maybe I should take the hint, go to one of my uncles," Gia said, "But I'd lose you."
She rolled Harry over. Her blue eyes beneath that blond hair, the darkened bruise in the middle. Harry reached up, touched the spot.
"Should get Hermione to fix that," Harry said.
"Learn so you can do it yourself," Gia suggested.
"She's got the touch," Harry said.
"Well," Gia said, "Think you need a reminder."
Gia gave a fast light slap to his lower abdomen, below the belt. She grinned, and it took Harry a half second to figure out her intent. Bliss. A pounding came to the door.
"Harry! Gia!" Richard shouted, "Mum wands a discussion downstairs—everybody!"
"Coming," Gia replied.
Gia stood to Harry.
"About today," Gia said, "Remember I still love you."
Gia leaned in, kissed him on the lips, her hands stroked his earlobes.
"Hold my hand—anything," Gia said, "Remind yourself why life is worth living, why it's worth defending. I know Ron has my back on this. You?"
"Lets go," Harry said as he reached for the doorknob. A twist, and they left the bedroom.
Ron moved sat next to Hermione on the sofa. He put his left arm around her.
"Trying?" Hermione asked.
"Figured you'd want it," Ron said as he pulled it back.
"Sorry," Hermione said.
Hermione leaned into him on the sofa. Kristen held the coffee mug in her hand, shuffled some papers on top of her lap, in those the blue and gray police sweats on the easy chair.
"It's…." Ron muttered.
"SCRAM DICKFACE!" came Andy's shout from above.
Heavier shoes, the stairs creaked for a moment, the bluejeans, the plaid overshirt, the tall man, Kurt came down the stairs. Kurt's eyes aimed toward Kristen.
"In a moment," Kristen promised.
Bare feet with polished red nails stomped down, jumped, as Andy stormed down the stairs, a loose faded green T–shirt over her light green knickers.
"What's the horseshit this time?" Andy demanded.
"Wait and sit," Kristen snapped.
Andy sat on the floor.
"Your choice," Kristen said.
Giggling, two more pairs of bare feet, Harry came down first, Gia behind him. Harry sat cross–legged on the sofa across the coffee table from Ron. Gia took the side closer to Kristen.
Bark!
Snuffles bound in from the kitchen, laid at Harry's and Gia's feet, kept his eye on Kristen. Harry's feet worked into the fur, and he grinned. More toes, the knees, , as Richard came down the stairs. He walked over, stood near Harry's end of that sofa, recoiled.
"Ow!" Richard snapped at Andy, her hand moving back.
"Quiet," Kurt said.
"Here," Kristen said, handing out sheets of paper, a photocopy to a letter, "This is why."
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
Muggle Police Chief Kristen Osborn of Noigate
It has not slipped our attention that you have failed to press charges in recent incidents against Potter, who obviously is the culprit behind the recent atrocities in your town and listed as a suspect.
We know you are the mother of a family of four residing at 26 Oak Street; yourself, a husband Kurt, a son Richard, and a daughter Andy. We strongly encourage you to think of their lives and charge the obvious culprit Potter—failure to do so may be unfortunate.
EM
"What's a Muggle?" Andy asked.
"You," Richard snapped.
"Richard!" Kristen snapped.
"This looks serious," Kurt said, the frown and serious expression on his face, "A death threat."
"Backside clearly was," Kristen said, "This…EM…Any ideas Harry?"
"They hate me," Harry said.
"Why haven't you charged him?" Andy asked.
"When his alibis is that he's with me?" Kristen said, "They're not concerned about justice."
"Ta," Harry grumbled.
"That this was about today," Richard grumbled.
"We caught the car," Kristen said, "Seems the culprit took his life—contract was for a hundred fifty thousand."
"Upstairs," Gia said to Harry, "Now."
Harry groaned, went up the stairs with her.
"I'll double check the locks," Kurt said as he left.
"Bet this is all your fault!" Andy fisted down onto Richard's foot.
"Ouch!" Richard shouted.
"Andrea!" Kristen shouted.
Andy got up, pursued Richard up the stairs, a door slam, and pounding.
"YOU ARSEHOLE!" Andy shouted.
Kristen shook her head. Crookshanks ran over, jumped up into Hermione's lap, curled up, and Hermione began to pet her.
Date: Thu Aug 31 21:28:50 2023