Daphne sat, carefully poised, at her writing desk as she penned an invitation to her next dinner party, as per Alex's instructions. She wasn't certain if he was still in the mansion or if he had gone off to Merlin knows where again, and she didn't really care. Other than these carefully orchestrated dinner parties, she almost never saw him anyway. And it was always awkward when she did, as they had nothing to say to each other.

'I wonder what Harry is up to,' She paused to daydream for a moment, imagining him at her side, hands reaching down into her dressing gown... Daydreams were pretty much all she had – the mansion was a gilded cage that she dared not leave, and she did not truly enjoy the company of the women in her social circle, so she rarely invited them over for tea. And when she did it was always awkward, as they were insipid little women that enjoyed twittering on about nothing at all.

She frowned, realizing that her distraction had allowed ink to pool in one spot on the letter, ruining her perfect calligraphy. Daphne frowned, as the deep well of anger inside her bubbled up, straining to escape her her tight control. She banished the letter across the room and pulled out another sheet of paper, 'Is this what I spent 7 years learning magecraft at Hogewarts for? And where is Harry, anyways? It's been over a week with no word!' For a forensic mage, Harry seemed to be awfully busy. But she would never ask him about it – Daphne was raised to be a proper pureblood trophy wife, and she had it drilled into her that you never question your man. A pureblood lady accepted whatever she was given.

"Fuck!" Ink had dripped onto the new paper as well. Daphne vanished another ruined letter.

*UHD*

Harry walked out of the Italian portkey terminal. 'It is hot!' This was his first time being this far south, and he had not been ready for the Mediterranean heat. 'How can Sirius handle this sort of thing every day?' Not that he was here to see his 'Dog father', as he referred to himself. Sirius wasn't in Italy – he was living on a small Caribbean island, brewing craft rums and running around the beach in his dog form. 'I guess you can get used to anything.'

Harry quickly cast several cooling charms on himself (before his shirt glued itself to him with sweat, making him look like a day laborer) and pulled out the directions that he had scribbled to the dueling studio. 'That doesn't look like it's too far of a walk' .

He set out into the scenic old city, which was a substantial tourist attraction. Even in the heat of the day, there were plenty of tourists wandering, looking at the architecture. A couple passed Harry. The guy was saying something in a language that Harry didn't know, and the woman was gazing lovingly at him. He scowled. 'Daphne and I never do anything like that.' they never went out into public, for fear of being seen.

Harry squinted, trying to make out the street signs – the sun was just too bright. At the first street vendor he saw, he purchased a straw hat. It made him look like a dork, but he needed something (anything!) to keep the sun out of his eyes - his British upbringing had not prepared him for the intense summer of southern Europe.

An hour later, he was in a sun bleached building that, from the outside, looked to have seen better days: with the stone front worn and the painted trim long bleached to a faded pastel. But the inside was all clean and airy with vaulting ceilings that should not have fit into the modest structure. Up on the second floor where the studio was located, there were frescoes along the walls and marble paneling around the doorways. One ornate set of double doors led into the actual dueling hall from the dueling studio's foyer. Unlike the 'pits' that Harry and Ginny had practiced in, this was a spacious room large enough to accommodate multiple people practicing at the same time under the supervision of an instructor, much more like the dueling club at Hogwarts. There were movable wards set up in between the groups to prevent the dualists from accidentally hitting the spectators or other students.

Harry paused and watched – at one end of the hall there was an older teen guiding a group of 5 twelve year-old boys through the basics of dueling, while at the other end an older man was drilling Zambini as the young duelist repeated the same series of spells at the target.

Harry sat and waited, watching both alternately. Finally, after a half hour, Zambini took a break. As he came over to grab some water from the pitcher on a table by the back he spotted the visitor. "Harry! What a surprise to see you. And how are things in the dreary north?" His expression made it clear that he wasn't really interested.

"Quite good. Draco is now working for his father, in theory at least. But the newspapers keep reporting him spending all his time at various parties, with a new witch draped on his arm every week."

"And why should I care what that nouveau riche ferret is doing? It's not like he's much better than the Weasleys. He has to work for a living." Zambini sneered at Harry, making it clear that his general disdain included Harry as well.

"Yes, well, so much for chit chat." Harry sighed, 'If you don't care about the answer, you need to stop asking the question. Or get better at faking it, like you know, a SLYTHRIN?' But of course Harry didn't say any of that. Instead he smiled, "I know that your family are expert on exotic potions. I am working in Forensics for the Ministry, and I am in over my head," Harry smiled insouciantly, doing his best to appear hapless, "I was hoping you could help – do you know anything about one that works like an Imperious spell?"

"Harry, I hope your not bringing up that horrible gossip about mother. I will not tolerate it!" Zambini replied coldly, fingering his wand.

"I don't care what you do, or how many husbands your mother takes. That's her business. I just want your expertise."

"I know nothing of such things. And neither does Mother – I have been living at the family estates. We are the most highly respected family here in Lecce, and you would do well to remember that!" Zambini pivoted on his toes and strode off back to his instructor.

Harry shrugged. 'He's protesting too much.' But Zambini had always over-reacted when people questioned him. Back in Hogwarts, everybody blamed it on his Italian heritage, but now Harry suspected it was just because he was an asshole. He turned to watch the kids class. They were fairly good, for their age. He noticed several parents sitting against the wall, watching as well. Much to his surprise, it was mostly fathers. And the language they were speaking wasn't Italian. But that was ok – he didn't know Italian either.

Harry tapped the band of his watch, which contained his translation charm, and slowly dialed it through the languages it had stored before he got a match. With a genial smile, he turned to one of three burly men sitting together "I'm impressed. I wasn't that good when I was their age."

"Yeah. We have been bringing out boys here for a year now. It is one of the most prestigious studios within a hundred miles. And in these uncertain times, we want them to be ready!"

Harry focused his full attention on the speaker. There was something in his tone that set off alarm bells in Harry's head. His clothes and overall fitness spoke to wealth, but he didn't seem like he was cut from the same elitist cloth as Zambini. "I'm guessing you portkeyed here? Where are you from?"

"We're from Tepelenë, that's in Albania"

"It used to be a nice place," added a second, "but now we have mudbloods moving in."

"And there are half breeds in the forests" The first rumbled.

"Last year, several people were attacked. That's why we decided to enroll our sons here, to learn how to protect themselves."

Harry smiled and nodded, glancing at the kids being instructed in formal dueling. 'That's not how I would teach somebody to defend themselves..' "Well, that is very proactive of you."

*UHD*

"Somethings going on in Albania," Harry stated as he handed his report over to Jacobs. "It sounds like somebody is stirring up strife between the purebloods & muggle-born"

His boss read through the summery page, "Or maybe there are actual problems. This is Albania – it's not England. Go find out if this is for real, and if it will pose problems for us."

Harry decided not to bring up that even England had its share of problems with discrimination.

"What's my budget?"

"Whatever is reasonable, Dursley. Use your common sense!"

"So portkeys, room and board. Do I get anything for bribes?" Harry wasn't put off by his boss's brusque manner. After all, he had roomed with Zambini for 7 years.

"If you need to bribe somebody, bring it to me so I can authorize it."

Harry nodded. So it was the usual. At least the drinks would be free.

*UHD*

Harry took a sip of his ale and grimaced. He didn't know if it had originally been any good, but once he had vanished the alcohol, it tasted like piss. He was sitting in a busy wizarding bar in a working class part of Tepelenë, listening in on conversations flowing around him. A nifty spell they taught the Unspeakables let him hear specific conversations more clearly, and he was tuning it from one table to the next without leaving his bar stool. It was a day later, and he was at work in Albania.

'That sounds promising.' He cut the spell and walked over to a table where three men about his age had been grousing about muggle-born, "I couldn't help overhearing, and I couldn't agree more. This coddling of the mudbloods has to stop!" He was using a new translation charm that he had picked up on his visit to the Department of Mysteries. It was a high end one tuned to Albanian, so that nobody could tell that he wasn't a native speaker (it even made his lip motions match the spoken words). And it had the added bonus that it changed his voice. That along with a couple of spells on his hair and nobody would recognize him from a causal glance.

"Aye"

"Aye, pull up a seat."

"Thanks." Harry turned to the waitress, "Hun, can you bring us another round, on me?"

"Good man!" the first speaker slapped Harry on the back. He had clearly already had a few, "I'm Besnik, that's Hans."

"And I'm Skandar," interrupted the last, clearly not happy to have been left for last. Or maybe he was always unhappy – he had a perpetual frown etched into his face. It gave him an sulky, intense look - the sort that women found attractive (until he opened his mouth for the first time).

Harry spent the rest of the evening drinking and chatting. It seemed that there weren't many muggle-born in Tepelenë, but there were rumors circulating that some rich muggle-born were buying up property in town, and that anybody who didn't sell was being roughed up. As the night wore on, the bartender finally announced that he was closing up.

"Come on," Besnik staggered up a little unsteadily. "I know a place that's open all night!"

"I don't know – I have work tomorrow.." replied one of the others, but they nevertheless left the bar as a group, with Harry mixed in.

"I heard that some folks are getting together to create a self defense group," Hans volunteered. "I got an invitation from a buddy at work"

"Is this open to anybody?" Harry asked.

"Yeah. He gave me the address." Hans was just wracking his brain to remember when Harry saw a glint of light out of the corner of his eye.

"Protego!" He cast an overpowered shield as he pulled Hans behind him.

"Die Pureblood scum!" A feminine voice yelled in English as more cutting spells rained down on the group.

As Besnik and the others scrambled for cover and tried to find their wands, Harry quickly went on the offensive – the witch attacking them was standing on the other side of the street, making no attempt to hide.

The witch's dueling skills were negligible, and it is a matter of moments to stun her.

"Is she alive? We should kill the bitch!" Hans had grown quieter and quieter as the night had progressed (and he consumed more and more alcohol) but now that silence had blossomed into a furious rage.

Skander nodded, belatedly drawing his wand.

Harry made a quick assessment. "You're drunk. Go get the Aurors and I'll keep watch here."

"No, we need to send a message to the mudbloods! This can't be tolerated!" Hans pointed his wand at the unconscious woman. His face was red from the blood pounding through it as he clenched his wand so tightly in his fist that whatever spell he cast fizzled out.

"Stupefy," Harry knocked him unconscious as well, before turning to the other two, of whom only Besnik appeared marginally sober. "New plan - get him home so he can sleep it off. I'll take her to the Aurors." He mobilicorpus'ed the woman so she was floating at waist height like an art-nouveau lunch counter. He took hold of her and after a moment of concentration apparated (it was always tricky side-alonging an unconscious person), but his destination was not the local Auror station but back to his hotel room.

Once there, he inspected his captive under better light. She was a middle-aged woman, dressed professionally, but her clothes were disheveled, as if she had been too distracted to pay attention to them for some time. A small sniff told him that she also hadn't bathed for a while. She had a small purse slung under her arm, to all appearances forgotten. Harry reached in and was pleasantly surprised to discover it was an expanding purse, and that it was full. He riffled through it, finding a folder with a pair of identical resumes for a woman named Helen O'Conner and a parchment describing a job as a nursing aid in Italy. All were written in english.

"Incarcerous." Once the topes had her secured, Harry revived the woman.

"What are you doing in Albania?" He asked. It was at times like this that it would be really useful to know legilimency, since he wasn't going to use an Imperious curse on her. Not because he would have felt guilty using it on an innocent woman (he would have, but that wouldn't have stopped him), but because who knew how it would interact with whatever compulsion she was already under. It could kill her.

"Let me go. I have to kill them," she didn't seem particularly upset as she announced her intentions.

"Kill who?"

"Purebloods."

"Why?"

"Let me go. I have to kill them." She repeated in the same tone of voice.

"Where are you from?" He tried one more time.

"Let me go. I have to kill them."

Harry nodded. "Stupefy" She would have one heck of a headache from the repeated stunners, but he wasn't going to take any chances. He used his wand to withdraw a sample of her blood, which he kept floating in the air as he opened his trunk and descended into his laboratory.

'This is going to be a long night'. He started a series of potions brewing, adding a little of her blood to each. An hour later, four out of the five potions were changing color from clear to green. Harry started adding little bits of ingredients first to one then to the other, taking notes each time. It was several hours before he had gotten one of the potions to return back to clear. Harry blinked blearily as he looked at the potion. It was indeed what was called in the industry 'water-white'. Meaning as clear as good water. 'I should get some sleep.' But that really wasn't an option to Harry's sleep addled mind: he didn't want to leave the woman in the state she was in any longer than necessary, and there was no way he could take her through a portkey terminal in the condition that she was in. Harry swigged a Wide-eye potion and then got started making up a full strength antidote potion using his notes on the ingredients required to make the test sample return to its original state. By the time he staggered back up out of his trunk, it was already late morning.

"This will probably taste nasty, but luckily, you're stunned, so you don't have to worry about it," Harry muttered before giggling. 'Oh, I think I need another Wide-eye.' Instead he made his way over to the the stunned Helen O'Conner and administered his concoction to his captive.

As soon as it was down her throat, she began to twitch and spasm, and her head started to swell up like a balloon.

"Oh, shit!" That wasn't supposed to happen. Harry immediately started casting whatever spells he could to stabilize her, preventing her head from exploding or her heart form seizing. An hour later, she was breathing regularly and all of her features were back to normal.

'That was… dumb.' Harry admitted to himself. He shouldn't have taken such risks – the woman had almost died because… he didn't know what he had done wrong. 'But what else was I supposed to do?' He was too tired to think up an alternative.

Harry put on his Unspeakables robe and enervated Helen.

"Wha.. hwhere? She asked, slurring slightly.

"What's your name?"

"Whamy tied up?" She jerked weakly at the ropes.

Harry dispelled them, "You were acting under the Imperious curse, so I had to make sure that you were back to your regular self."

"Are you an Auror?" Helen sat up slowly.

"I am an Unspeakable. What was the last thing you remember?"

It turned out that she had come across an ad in the Daily Prophet for a nursing position with a wealthy Italian family, and had taken a portkey there for an interview. And that was the last thing she remembered.

"I think we should go speak to the British Aurors."

"My things… they are at my room in Lecce!"

Harry managed to convince her to leave that for the Aurors to retrieve, and he took the two of them to the portkey terminal in Rome.

*UHD*

While Helen was being attended to by a mediwitch in the Auror department, Harry went down to the DoM.

"That was quick," His boss quipped, "I usually don't see you for a week when I send you…" He stopped. "You look like shit. Is everything ok?"

"Yeah. I think I have a woman who was give one of the loa pills, like the man in France. Once the mediwitch gives her a clean bill of health, you can send somebody up to question her. She's with the Aurors.

"Both victims were British?"

"And muggle born. There are rumors that muggle born have been disappearing. This could be related."

Jacobs squinted at Harry, "When was the last time you slept?"

"12 hours.. no 24 hour ago? More?"

"Merlin, Dursley, You keep going like that, you're going to make mistakes! Next time, get some backup. I'd rather you waste a couple of expensive international portkeys than you end up dead. Or worse yet, lose a lead!"

"Yes, sir!" Harry replied. Which actually meant 'No sir!' Unspeakables didn't socialize much with each other, so he didn't know any of them except by reputation. Harry didn't even trust most of his friends – there was no way that he would trust an almost stranger.

"Go get some sleep, before you do something stupid." Jacobs repeated.

Harry nodded. He considered portkeying to Daphne's, but he wouldn't get much rest there. And there was the slim chance that her husband would be in. He knew he should never visit her except when he had all his wits about him.

'I guess I'll have to go home.' He took the protracted route required to get into his tiny apartment.

As he staggered into the almost bare apartment, he froze - the lights were on.

Before he could even draw his wand, he saw Hermione, "Oh, I didn't mean to intrude – I was just returning your warming bracelet," she replied quickly, holding it up like a talisman to ward off harm. "The one you gave me at graduation."

'Oh, right, I keyed her to the wards.' He waved it away, "It's ok. I was just surprised a little. Wasn't expecting to see anybody hear." The last word ended in a huge yawn. "Sorry. Long day. I'm exhausted. I'm going to crash as soon as you leave."

Hermione nodded before examining Harry, "When was the last time you ate?"

"This morning… If you count beer."

Hermione gave Harry a concerned look. "It's almost dinner time. I'm going to make you something to eat."

"It's fine."

"No, It's not. You have cooked for me plenty of times. The least I can do is make you an omelet." Cooking wasn't her forte, but you couldn't go wrong with an omelet. And besides, she needed something quick because Harry DID look exhausted. But he would sleep better on a full stomach.

She opened his refrigerator – it was empty, except for an expired bottle of tobasco sauce. She cast a concerned glance at Harry. 'Has he been eating at a pub all this time?' Not only was that unhealthy, it was out of character.

"Here – let's floo to my place, I don't know my way around your kitchen."

Harry didn't point out that there was nothing to navigate around, as he hadn't been food shopping in over a month. Instead he nodded as Hermione side-alonged him to her flat from the alley outside his building (as he didn't actually have a floo).

Harry sank down into a chair and watched Hermione work, a small smile on his face. 'Daphne would never do something like this.' Not that she wasn't supportive – she was, within the boundaries of their relationship – but cooking was not something she ever did. That was what house elves were for.

"So, you still oppose the idea of having house elves?"

Hermione sighed, "I understand why they do what they do better now, but I'm still never going to have a personal house elf."

"Even if there is a lone house elf in desperate need of a home to bond to, to keep from wasting away?"

Hermione turned to give Harry a look that asked 'Seriously? You're going there?'

"I would do what Hogwarts does – tie their employment to an institution instead of a person"

"That's the thing, Purebloods don't think of their families as 'persons', but as an institution."

"And that's why they make such horrible parents. For them children a product, not someone to love." Other than the Weasleys, she didn't know any pureblood kids that weren't in desperate need of a therapist.

"Tell me about it," sighed Harry.

"Oh, are you pining after a pureblood girl?" Hermione asked with a little too much cheer.

'Shit. I'm tired,' Harry snorted. "No. Remember Tracy Davis, from school? Her father is a nouveau riche arriviste, and he arranged a marriage for her with some minor nobleman who was ten years older than her."

"That's terrible! What does Tracy think of this?"

"Take a guess – she's run off to America, and didn't leave her parents a forwarding address. She's now living with a muggle musician in Denver."

"Arranged marriages a horrid custom." Hermione added the mushrooms and cheese to the omelet, "I didn't know you were so close to her."

Harry smiled through gritted teeth, 'I'm a merlin-be-damned font of of information today.' He never shared personal information. Not with anybody. "I'm not, but you know us Slytherins, we always keep tabs on each other."

Hermione slid the finished omelet onto a plate and set it in front of him, "Harry, drop the act. You might have everybody else fooled, but I know you. You're not as cold hearted and aloof as you try to pretend. You're one of the kindest people I know."

Harry almost choked on his omelet, as at the same time a blush spread all the way up to his ears."I.. " He took a drink to clear his throat. "Thanks." He muttered, "I'll try to live up to your expectations."

"So, have you found out anything about the muggle disappearances?" Harry asked, to change the topic.

"Yeah. I found the information pretty easily – it's not a secret, it's just that nobody filed the reports properly, so the Aurors are treating each one as a separate missing persons case. But if you take them in aggregate, 15 muggle-born have disappeared in the past 6 months without any trace, and they don't match the profile of a typical disappearance. Or so Shacklebolt – the Auror I consulted - claimed. He said that he's going to look into it, now that I brought it to his attention." Hermione waved her wand and a file folder floated into Harry's hand, who made his way over to Hermione's couch and spread it over the coffee table.

"Good for him. And thank you for collecting all this – this may end up saving lives!"

Now it was Hermione's turn to blush. "I just found a failure in the reporting system."

"Exactly." Except Harry wasn't certain that it was a simple failure. The missing people were all too similar. Most were young, career oriented, not close with family. He closed his eyes to consider the links between them.

When Hermione turned around from cleaning the dishes, Harry was asleep, the report resting on his chest.

She put the papers away and carefully draped a blanket over him, so as not to wake him. She didn't notice the indulgent smile on her face as she did.

*UHD*

"Harry, wake up!" Harry woke up to find a worried Hermione shaking his shoulder. "What… did I fall asleep on your couch? Sorry about that." Harry slurred sheepishly.

"That's not important – there is something going on in Diagon Alley" Hermione's apartment was on a side street that abutted Wizarding England's center. The Ministry had provided it to her as a part of her pay package. No, Harry wasn't jealous. Much.

Harry grabbed his wand and a glass of water to help wake up before joining Hermione at the door. "I heard yelling and I went to take a look. I didn't come very close, but it appears to be a riot in the making."

As they exited the building, they could hear the noise. At the far end of the street there was a group of people yelling angrily at the shop across the street.

When they arrived, Aurors were already on the scene, trying to disperse the crowd of 20-30 people. "Down with Purebloods! Muggle borns rule! Rah!" Yelled the crowd, chanting loudly but with an odd lack of passion. Harry and Hermione exchanged a glance. Relations between purebloods and muggle born were bad as it was. This would be like spilling kerosene onto a fire.

"Ok, you lot, sod off, or we're going to start stunning you," an Auror drew his wand.

"Down with Purebloods! Muggle borns rule! Rah!"

"Stupefy!"

As soon as the first rioter dropped, the rest started apparating away. Within moments all except a half dozen people were gone, and those remainders looked confusedly at each other before quickly melting into the surrounding alleyways.

Harry walked over to the Aurors processing their sole prisoner – who was Incarcerous-ed and awoken. "I am with the Department of Mysteries," He showed his warrant card, "Do you need any assistance?"

"No, mate." The Auror restraining the prisoner replied, "This is pretty cut and dried. They probably had too much to drink. Though this sort of behavior is more of a quidditch season sort of thing." He pulled the rioter upright, "Come on lad. You're going to be sleeping it off at your own special 'hotel room' in the DMLE, all paid for courtesy of Pureblood taxes. If you don't make an ass of yourself, you'll be out in the morning."

Harry took a close look at the prisoner, so that he could recall him in a pensive later.

"Those weren't regular rioters," Hermione volunteered when Harry returned to her side. "That was organized. Somebody is trying to stir up class warfare."

"It's worse than that. I need to take a look at something back in your apartment."

When they returned Harry raced to the couch and started flipping through the missing person reports. "I think this is it – Samuel Delaney. Missing for three weeks." He held up the paper, with a small photo paper clipped to it. It was a picture of the man that the Aurors had just arrested.

"What do you think it means?"

"It means nothing good. I need to go. Thanks for dinner. Or breakfast, or whatever it was." Harry was distracted, trying to decide his next step, and not paying attention to what was coming out of his mouth. He felt like he was trying to put together a puzzle while missing most of the pieces. Nothing fit together. But there was definitely something going on. Something big, and bad.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Next time, let's arrange it ahead of time."

"Wouldn't miss it for the world." Harry gave a distracted wave as he stepped out into the hall to apparate away.

"So call me, you prat!"

Harry disappeared with a slight susurration. His apparition was always quiet. Hermione was too distracted by everything to consider why a forensic technician would need to know how to apparate silently.

*UHD*

"Ginny, wake up!" Ginny started awake as somebody pounded on her apartment door.

A moment later the door jerked open on its own as a bathrobe clad Ginerva Weasley was pointing her wand at Harry from halfway across her room. "What the hell are you doing pounding on my door in the middle of the night, you stupid git? I just got off shift and I need my beauty rest!" She yelled, closing the distance so she could wave her finger in Harry's face once she realized who had disturbing her sleep.

"You're plenty beautiful the way you are, Gin, and I need your help." Harry spoke quickly – if he didn't cut her off, Ginny would talk herself into a towering rage.

"Wait, what?"

"I need to speak to a rioter who was just picked up by the Aurors. I think they stuck him in the drunk tank."

"So, go ask whoever's on duty."

"I don't trust whoever is on duty. I trust you."

Ginny blushed before muttering, "Damn paranoid Slytherin." She considered. "I really did just get off shift, Dursley. I'm not your personal errand girl."

"Please, I'll owe you for this."

Ginny considered, "Fine. But you just talk to him. No funny business."

"Not a problem," Harry nodded spreading his hands to show that he was trustworthy.

They arrived at the Ministry half an hour later, with Ginny still grumbling, "Taking advantage of helpless maidens in their scanty off-time."

Despite the serious situation, Harry couldn't help replying, "You're not a helpless maiden, Ginny. You're probably one of the two most dangerous women I know."

Ginny perked up, "Who's the other one?"

Harry gave her a mysterious smile, "Now that would be telling." After that, they had to stop bantering as Ginny signed them into the DMLE and then led the way to the cell holding drunks and other minor offenders. It was a large, bare room with cushioning charms cast on the walls and the floor. Through the bars they could see two older gentlemen resting on the floor, snoring. Both looked to have been there for some time, as they were deeply asleep (or perhaps deeply inebriated).

"Hello, I would like to speak to the wizard who was just brought in," She said to the guard on duty.

"Sorry, We haven't had anybody come in since the afternoon – it's been really quiet."

"He was arrested for rioting" Harry interrupted.

"Nope, nobody. We had a woman in for shoplifting earlier, but she just paid the fine for accidental use of magic and was released before dinner time."

"Thanks, Kenny."

Harry turned to Ginny, "Could they still be processing him?"

"I'll check. You sit tight at my desk. Don't touch anything." She led Harry over to her desk. As a junior Auror, she didn't warrant her own office, instead sharing it with 3 others, two of whom were out on patrol right now, and the last was a large woman busy filling out a report, holding a quill awkwardly with a hand the size of an anvil.

Harry sat and waited, trying to come up with possible scenarios. Ginny came back a half hour later. "There is no record of an arrest." Ginny was scowling, hoping that Harry would tell her that it was a practical joke, or that it wasn't a big deal or something. Anything to pull her away from the edge of the abyss that that she sound herself standing on. Then she could yell at Harry for being a stupid git and go back to sleep.

"This is getting worse and worse," Harry almost whispered. "Ginny, I hate to ask this of you, but I was serious that I don't know who to trust. Can you do some digging and find out who the arresting officer was?" Harry was kicking himself for paying so much attention to the rioter that he barely glanced at the arresting Auror.

"Merlin damn it, Dursley. I knew you were going to say that," Ginny sighed. She wasn't angry with Harry, because he was right. She was pissed with the world for dumping what was starting to look like a massive corruption scandal in her lap. And there was no way she could turn and look the other way. That's not the way her parents raised her. "I'll look into it. But only on one condition - you come as my escort to the Ministry Lammas Night ball."

Harry nodded immediately, "Ok". This was work, so there was no question about going if that was the trade Ginny wanted in exchange for her help. But there was still a slight twinge of guilt. 'Well, it's not like Daphne cares about what I do when we aren't together. For all I know, she has a string of other lovers.' That didn't make him feel any better. But he was doing it for England.

"Great!" Ginny smiled. I'll go tell Tonks that I have a date!"