Harry Potter :
19 Years Later…
On an early morning filled with mellow daylight, Harry Potter stood in front of the hauntingly beautiful Godric's Hollow village with his best friends Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. At age thirty-seven, Harry's normally messy jet-black hair, now combed back, was proudly showing off his childhood's lightning-shaped scar on his forehead; memory of a harrowing war he'd famously won all those years ago. His old-fashioned round glasses gave him the allure of a successful businessman and father, which I am happy to say he was both. Hermione's hair was showing impressive flow as the wind blew her long blond curls over the men's faces, smiling earnestly in front of a camera. She was used to wearing heavy makeup since being often recognised on the streets of their new neighbourhood (possibly the most famous Wizard's village for being home to Harry Potter). Most of Ron Weasley's freckles had faded under his pastel skin from aging and his ginger hair grew darker like a blood colour.
"Great picture, guys!" said Ginny Weasley, who was holding the camera. "We're going to add that one to the album."
"Would you care to join us?" Hermione asked her.
"No, no! This is your moment, I'll just ruin it for you guys!"
"You never ruin it, Ginny!" Ron said, feeling nonetheless guilty for having had the same thought. "Come join your bloody husband Harry Potter for a picture!"
"No!" Ginny insisted. "You three don't realize how good you look together. I mean it… you're Harry, Ron and Hermione."
"Right, you are, Ginny!" Harry said slowly, looking rather agreeable. "We're Harry, Ron and Hermione."
Ginny lifted her gaze upwards in exasperation.
Half an hour later, a red telephone box descended into the underground tunnel that served as the main entrance to the Ministry of Magic. Harry, Hermione, Ron and Ginny stepped out of the telephone box and strode into the expansive hall, which was storing a chain of floo-powders lined up on each side of the room; The entrance was instantly filling up with dozens of new Ministry employees that Apparated out of the green flames soaring in the hearths. All the workers had gotten there in time for their early hour shift, and most of them were standing in line to buy a hot coffee at one of the kiosks, reading a lackluster newspaper to pass the time.
In front and center of the room stood the magnificent golden statue of a wise old wizard, his wand raised high above his head, sparks flying out of its extremity and sinking to the bottom of the fountain on which he stood. At the man's feet, the statue of a House-elf was gazing at him with an expressive look of admiration.
"Albus," Harry sighed, upon noticing the statue, his eyes turning misty.
"And Dobby," Hermione said, smiling softly at the House-elf.
The four friends circled around the fountain, gazing upwards at an endless row of bow windows, each belonging to a different employee's office.
"Tell me if there's anything good," Ginny said to Harry and Ron. "The tragedy that struck the Blackmore family during the Royal Edinburgh event… Let me know what comes out of that. It will surely be interesting."
"You're not writing about the Auror office's inquiries for your newspaper, Ginny!" said Ron. "Besides, you're the senior Quidditch correspondent for the Daily Prophet."
"I'm looking to get a raise. I deserve to know about classified evidence distinguished by the secret Auror intelligence. I'm Harry Potter's wife for God's sake! It's common sense!"
"You don't need a raise if you're living with Harry Potter."
"It's not about what I need, Ron! It's what I want…"
They stepped into an elevator a little further from there, followed closely by other workers as well as paper airplanes flying through the gates that closed behind them; the airplanes served as interdepartmental memos and were the wizards' only source of communication in the Ministry since no one had access to phones (they considered them to be useless Muggle devices that interfered with their peace and quiet). The elevator backed away from its hinges about ten meters before stopping. Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny grabbed hold of a bar handle on the ceiling and the elevator boosted upwards at high speed before making a break on a higher floor.
"I liked you a tad better when you were playing for the Holyhead Harpies," said Ron to Ginny. "You were less nosy back then."
"Is it wrong that I've grown an interest in more pressing matters since then? Like the wellbeing of my children?"
"I'm glad you made that sacrifice for James, Albus and Lily," Harry said genuinely. "I do want what's best for our kids and this includes having you around them, but Ginny…"
"What?" Noticing the apologetic expression on Harry's face, she lifts a finger at him. "Oh no, don't you start this argument again!"
"They were the Holyhead Harpies! Oh my God, Ginny! How could you quit your dream job this soon? There aren't many all-female international Quidditch teams out there, which made you one of the most recognisable players of the century!"
"There will be another century," replied Ginny.
"How about your old teammates?" asked Ron. "Are they still worked up that you broke things off with them? I mean, your replacement, Annika Harris, wasn't exactly you when she played for Britain against Ireland. She scored goals through the wrong hoops several times before being disqualified altogether."
"Yeah," Ginny said. "Altogether is putting it lightly. More like all together, let's never play for a professional Quidditch league ever again! The team broke up! She made a complete fool of our Keeper, Ronda Kelley, who never actually managed to block her goals. Of course, there was the element of surprise… but it wasn't a good look for her by any means."
Hermione stared at her watch and sighed.
"My Department is on the 13th floor," she said to her friends. "Have a nice day all of you! I'm running a bit late…" She kissed Ron on the lips, smiling endearingly at him.
She turned her heels and walked back to the elevator, leaving Harry, Ron and Ginny to make their way to the Auror office alone. Ginny wasn't allowed inside seeing as, unlike Harry and Ron, she wasn't an Auror herself.
The office wasn't exactly an office, per say. More like the opposite of one. It was a massive, black-tiled chamber housing several dining tables and luxurious couches all around them. At the far end corner, behind a large glass wall, stood several Death Eater 'dummies' from a reasonable distance to one another. That area served as target-practice for the special wizard detectives (known as Aurors) and the floor was adorned with a violet placemat and several cushions to prevent any serious accidents. The room was so large that an actual blue wagon drove several of the employees to its different corners; one section on the left being a particular showstopper: An animatronic dragon was breathing fumes, menacingly gazing at several ministry workers who were practicing falling off a broomstick while extinguishing (fake) flames from their robes.
At the center of the chamber stood a large basin of blue liquid with an alluring clear light reflecting in its properties. Upon closer inspection, one would notice the images that seemed to dissolve in the substance. It was ten meters in diameter long, and crowded around it, were twenty or so employees. They were all staring in the Head Auror's direction, named Oscar Acker. He gestured for Harry and Ron to listen close, as they had just arrived in the circle around the Pensieve, standing across from him.
"As you all know, the Blackmores were a highly regarded, wealthy pure-blood family whose ties were severed at the end of the Second Wizarding War," Oscar Acker addressed everyone in a sonorous voice. "It seems most likely that they were hunted down by Voldemort's remaining Death Eaters to avenge their master, for the Blackmores were renown Blood Traitors. Although in my opinion… those were just rumors. You see, I believe that the Blackmores worshipped the Dark Lord. And there's even a possibility that they worked under his command. Yes," Oscar said upon noticing the confounded looks of his audience. "I believe that Harvey and Lamya Blackmore as well as their three children were living under the Dark Lord's influence. Meaning that they were all Death Eaters."
"Their house raid has taken place barely two days ago!" said a man named Noah Harper, bringing the attention onto him. "We were tasked to take on this mission with an impartial attitude, without the influence of those doubting the Blackmores' allegiance."
"I have no doubt that the Blackmores have accomplished great things for the Wizarding community, Mr. Harper. They were amongst the finest Aurors that fought against Lord Voldemort during the Second War. But double agents need to be considered. Deceit is inevitable in a world that is reigned by so much fear and trepidation. The Dark Lord has committed the most heinous murders in human history; using Polyjuice potions to infiltrate Muggles' homes; Apparating in parcs late in the evenings to surprise young unsuspecting couples; showing up in Muggles' backseats as they're driving to scare them to death, and Dissaparating right before causing a deadly collision."
Harry and Ron side glanced each other apprehensively as those events were unknown to them at the time that they took place. Both of them were right in the middle of the action, directly involved in Voldemort's untimely demise during the battle of Hogwarts.
"As you know, the Blackmores were last seen at a Muggle festivity called the Royal Edinburgh Military Tattoo when a sudden attack broke out." Oscar Acker said, pointing his wand at his left temple. As he withdrew it, a fine line of silver separated from his temple with the extremity of his wand. Oscar released the memory into the Pensieve. "There they were… with their children, Bane, Sable and Jezebel. Celebrating… Muggle Royalty. How unusual for them. This memory belongs to Christopher Clearwater, who attended the ceremony with the Blackmores."
It was a political party to the beat of the drum, packed with marching bands, bagpipes and traditional dancers. Harvey Blackmore and his wife, Lamya, both in their fifties, seemed in awe of the military units, majestic view of Edinburg castle and grand display of fireworks. Suddenly, something struck them with horror: A terrifying face had appeared in the sky, depicted by the fiery firework explosions. It was a skeleton mask; a serpent slithering through its opened mouth. Harry recognised the Dark Mark immediately. Suddenly, it looked as though the sky had opened as it became markedly darker, black holes appearing where the fireworks were. It was ink. The fireworks turned into explosions of black ink expelling into the audience.
It didn't take long for the spectators to be entirely covered in the repellant substance, all blind sighted and shrieking in pain as they were making an escape. Suddenly, with the speed of lightning, the crowd had caught fire. All of them. Not a single life was spared.
"As you can see, only a really powerful being could have survived this undoing to tell the tale. Such as… a wizard. Which is exactly what Christopher Clearwater was. And if he managed to survive this attack, then who is to say that the Blackmores haven't? Who is to say that they have truly been in agony that night?"
"Mr. Acker?" Noah said. "You don't believe they felt any pain, sir?"
Oscar Acker nodded in disapproval with a subtle smile.
"This was old magic. And a tale as old as time. During the witch hunts of the Middle Ages, many who were prosecuted to burn at the stake have evaded death by performing a basic Flame-Freezing charm, whilst pretending to shriek in agony. The use of that incantation saved Mr. Clearwater's life. Just as it did the Blackmores, I'm most certain of it!"
"Nonsense!" screamed Harper. "I'm sorry sir, but that is irrefutable nonsense!"
"Then why, Mr. Harper, were they sighted wreaking havoc with Death Eaters in Edensfield, North of London?"
"Muggles don't know what they're talking about!"
"Do not underestimate Muggles after everything they have been through, Noah! You had no problem believing them when Voldemort was the perpetrator."
A terrible moment of tension set in, as it usually did whenever someone related about anything that took place during the Second War.
An hour later, Harry, Ron and Hermione reunited in the Entrance Hall of the Ministry during their break. They sat around the fountain of Dumbledore's statue, after having ordered a meal from a kiosk (Yorkshire pudding and pumpkin juice). Hermione was glancing at the row of office windows above them from time to time, seeming worried.
"One look below, and she'll spot Harry Potter being a less than exemplary husband," Hermione said.
"We're behind the statue, aren't we?" Harry replied. "And Ginny never notices anything."
"That's what you think," Hermione said. "I think we should have told her that we changed our usual spot instead of pretending we're halfway around the world doing work assignments. What kind of requirements does the Auror office entail anyway?"
"Start with you," Ron said. "The Department of Magical Law Enforcement requires you to travel the world… why, exactly?"
Hermione bit her lip, looking disapproving of where Ron was taking the conversation. She breathed heavily and gave a sustained sigh.
"You're right!" she says finally. "This is so utterly convoluted! Oh, and we always make it back just in time to be leaving together again…"
"As long as we enter the Ministry together… and… and then leave together, Ginny has no reason to be angry with me. With us!" Harry said. "It's just that she talks…"
"All the time…" Hermione agreed. "About horcruxes. And about the battle of Hogwarts. She remembers every detail of it as though she never even tried to forget it!"
"Hermione…" Ron started. "What if I told you that making excuses was no longer our priority." He pointed to Harry and himself.
Hermione beamed with joy at the news.
"You mean…" she said. "You were assigned to go on an actual mission this time?"
"Just like old times," Ron said, Harry wrapping his arm around him. Ron stared teasingly at Hermione. "Would you like to join us?"
Moments later, the three friends were chattering deafeningly loud, interrupting each other with screams and exaggerated gestures (Hermione often putting her hands over her mouth).
Suddenly, the sight of one of their oldest rivals, Draco Malfoy, in the company of Head Auror, Oscar Acker, walking swiftly in their direction, interrupted their gossip almost immediately. At first the trio was remorseful, as though they had just shared with the rest of the world what Oscar considered to be classified information. But Draco Malfoy's disenchanted appearance told them otherwise.
"Just who I wanted to see!" Oscar said to the Hogwarts friends, with a caring look. "This is all very exciting! You were tasked with returning suspect Death Eaters, Harvey and Lamya Blackmore from Edensfield, along with their children, Bane, Sable and Jezebel. So, you have found your sense of purpose in the form of a highly dangerous quest."
Harry, Ron and Hermione beamed a truly cheerful smile.
"Well," Oscar continued, "you'll be happy to hear that I added a new member to your team. Potter, Weasley… you'll carry out this precarious task with Draco Malfoy."
Their smile disappeared so quickly that Oscar forgot that they were smiling a moment ago and seemed completely oblivious to their animosity. Harry and Ron reluctantly shook hands with their rival and Ron actually muttered, "Nice to meet you!" to a stone-faced Malfoy brushing the blond hair out of his eyes, looking distinguishably miserable.
Oscar Acker exchanged a few more words with the men, telling them how proud he was of them; that the Auror office couldn't have asked for better allies amongst their ranks; and he hoped that Draco Malfoy would prove to be equally worthy of such praise. After he left, Harry, Hermione and Ron found themselves alone in Draco's company. Draco lifted his eyebrows at the awkward silence that set in.
"How are you?" he asked, clearing his throat.
The three friends didn't answer, deliberately playing up the uneasy tension.
"So," Draco said unperturbed, "do you believe the Blackmores to be responsible for all those murders in the Royal Edinburgh Military… um… thing?"
The trio remained quiet; their lips curled. Harry was the first one to address him after an overlong pause.
"So, you finally joined the Ministry."
Draco sighed, "Yes."
"Honestly, Malfoy, there was no need at all. Haven't you inherited all of daddy's money by now?"
"Not all of it. He's still alive," Malfoy said, looking annoyed. "But seeing as my son Scorpius is no longer keeping me company, I decided to make better use of my time…"
"By wasting it here. Well, this may come as news to you, Malfoy, but we have very little time to spare for new recruits. Most times, you'll be filling in paperwork. Occasionally, if you're lucky, you'll get sent on a quest to solve insoluble mysteries and arrest dangerous criminals. But considering that we already caught most of you, I'd say that these days, things have been going deathly slow," Harry said sarcastically.
Draco sneered at him, attempting not to seem offended.
"I'm surprised to find you three still getting along well, after all these years. I would've thought that one of you might've outgrown the other two. But seeing as you don't seem to have made any new friends, I guess you'll convince yourselves of being anything these days."
"Okay," Ron said with a temper. "Well, it was nice to meet you, Mr. Malfoy, but I'm afraid the three of us have actual jobs to get back to."
"I'll follow you," Malfoy said.
"What?" Harry, Ron and Hermion said in unison.
"Relax. We work together, remember?"
Ron gave Harry a confused look. "This is a nightmare! Harry…" he shook Harry's shoulders, "come on, mate! Wake me up!"
"Sorry Ron, but this is real life," Harry said sincerely. "Let's get one thing straight, Malfoy. Don't expect us to be looking out for you in Edensfield. Oscar's already warned the rest of us that that location is rampant with Kappas and Nundus, amongst other foul creatures that have fled from a circus. You see, some Magizoologist let them escape from his suitcase. And I think on purpose, since he considered it a compassionate release."
Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "His suitcase?"
"Undetectable extension charm," Harry said.
"Oh," Malfoy said. "Yeah, you would know all about that."
Draco's comment completely flew over Harry's head, but the latter still made sure to give him a stinging look.
"It's good to know that my son doesn't risk the possibility of being invited to your home. You'll make sure to clear that out with your son, Albus? You'll let him know that you're just a bitter, unpleasant middle-aged man who's still living in the past, will you?"
Draco's comment caught Harry off guard. The latter raised his eyebrows, as if his nemesis had just told him a white lie.
"What are you talking about, Malfoy?" Harry said with contempt.
Draco's mouth widened into a nasty smile.
"Didn't he write to you about it?" Draco asked. "Nor his brother, James? Not to mention Granger's daughter… Rose, is it?" He snickered. "Your son, Albus, got sorted into Slytherin House. He enjoys spending most of his time with the worst kind of influence you could conjure up: Scorpius."
Harry tried without success to close his jaw back up, to Draco's delight.
"I would gladly leave you to ruminate in your thoughts, Potter, but seeing how we work together, I think you're supposed to let me follow you."
The trio quickly turned their back on Draco Malfoy, and hustled to their respective Ministry Department, followed closely by Draco who tried his best to overhear their mutterings.
"Oh my God! I'm sending Albus Potter a Howler!" Harry said under his breath.
"Harry, stop it!" Hermione said. "That's not the right way to discipline him. Besides, I'm sure he must be more devasted for having been sorted into Slytherin!"
"It's not that he got sorted," Harry said. "It's that he didn't tell me! He's not supposed to be keeping secrets from me already! If that's how his first year started, what is he planning to do on his fifth year?"
"Use a time turner that brings Voldemort back from the dead?" Ron suggested. "Come on, what do you think is going to happen?"
"To be clear," Harry said. "We're letting my wife know about this… but not about that, right?"
"Right!" Hermione and Ron said together.
"Put some distance between you two," Hermione warned Harry. "She'll surely want to write in the papers about the Blackmores. She doesn't give a damn about the Quidditch League seeing how she's so bitter about leaving it. As for me," she said, holding her head high, "as Deputy Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, I can assign myself on a personal mission to track down these suspect Death Eaters right under the Minister's nose. Shacklebolt can't stop me now! Oh Harry, I'm so sorry you need to lie to her again!"
"It's like she said," Harry said. "We're Harry, Ron and Hermione. She's just my wife. I'm sure she'll just say that she'll ruin things again…"