Chapter 13
Alastor cursed under his breath as he stalked towards Grimm's office. There wasn't a hellhole that served booze or catered to the scum of society that he had not visited, nor any of the usual suspects he hadn't hunted down and interrogated for information.
He had nothing to show for his efforts, which only gave credence to his initial thought that Amelia's abduction was orchestrated by professionals.
"Any news?" Grimm asked as he entered the office.
Alastor shook his head and sunk into one of the unoccupied chairs before rubbing his eyes tiredly.
He'd not slept and knew he wouldn't be able to until Bones was back with them.
"Anything from Jameson?"
"Not a word," Grimm sighed. "Is he always so aloof?"
"He works alone and in secrecy, other than when he took Bones along with him."
Grimm nodded.
"I don't like it, Moody," he grumbled. "I want her back, and I'd prefer to be kept in the loop."
"Aye, me too, but this is how he works. We have to have faith in him. He's not let us down yet."
"I know," Grimm conceded. "I just hope he doesn't now. And that he doesn't make a hell of a mess for me to clean up."
"The mess we can live with," Alastor pointed out. "Losing Bones is not an option."
"It is not," Grimm agreed. "Go on, get back out there. Someone knows something, Moody."
Alastor nodded as he stood.
"I'll let you know as soon as I find something," he promised.
Grimm waved him off, and Alastor left the office, exhausted but no less determined to make some progress.
His superior was right.
Someone knew something, and Moody would find them, no matter what it took.
(Break)
Amelia realised how quickly the track of time was lost being in the dark, with only the sound of creaking floorboards from above being the only thing she heard.
She didn't know how long she'd been held captive. Maybe it had only been a matter of a few hours or even a day or so.
All Amelia knew was that she was hungry and needed to use the facilities.
Twice more during her broken sleep, she'd been interrupted by someone coming to check on her. They said nothing both times and left quickly, leaving Amelia to deduce it was the man who had been ushered from the room shortly after she'd arrived.
Nonetheless, it was the second man that concerned her more.
He knew she was an Auror, and he'd not hesitated in using the Cruciatus Curse on her.
That could only mean he was not concerned about being identified or found.
He faced life in prison for what he'd done, and Amelia realised the severity of the situation she found herself in.
Unless, by nothing short of a miracle, she was found, they would get what they wanted before killing her.
She shook her head at the thought.
This was not how it was supposed to be.
There was so much she wanted from life, and now, it seemed what little she'd had and experienced would be it.
When she pondered it, it all seemed so meagre.
She'd never had a meaningful relationship and had certainly never gotten married or had children. She'd seen very little of the world and the thing that had hung over her for the past decade: the death of her parents.
Before she could be overwhelmed by the myriad of emotions that filled her, she was pulled from her musings by the sound of approaching footsteps. These ones were heavier than the last two times she'd been checked on, and Amelia suddenly felt a trickle of fear run down her spine.
The moment the door opened, she knew it was the man who had cursed her, and she fought the urge to shudder.
She would not show him she was scared.
"Food," he grunted, dropping something at her feet.
"I need to use the bathroom."
She felt him kneel down in front of her and his breath on her neck.
"I will tie your hands at your front, but if you misbehave, young lady, I will dangle you upside down. Understood?"
Amelia nodded, knowing it was useless to offer any resistance.
He would only curse her again, and she had no doubt he would follow through with his threat.
"I just want to use the bathroom."
"Then we will have no problems. Come."
He hauled her to her feet and all but dragged her from the room.
Amelia's feet were tied together just loosely enough that she could navigate the stairs.
"Toilet is in there," the man explained, turning her to her left. "Be quick, and don't do anything stupid. You are wearing a tracker around your ankle, so you won't get far. Blindfold stays on."
She was shoved in the back, and she fell heavily into a solid wall.
Being in the dark, she felt around for the toilet, which didn't take long.
It was more of a cupboard than a bathroom, with only the addition of a sink to complete the fixtures.
"Come on, I don't have all day."
Finishing her ablutions, Amelia washed her hands with the cold water that was available from both taps.
She was somewhere that was not often inhabited. If it were, it would have running hot water.
Still, she was no closer to deciphering where she was, and knowing her time was up, she left the bathroom to be led back to the cellar she was being kept in.
"Eat," the man urged gruffly. "When he gets here, you will need your strength."
The door slammed behind him as he left, and Amelia immediately felt around for the food at her feet. She was ravenous, and though the food was not familiar to her, she ate it, nonetheless.
A sandwich, some crisps, and a bottle of water were not enough to satisfy her hunger, but it was better than nothing.
It could be her last meal, after all.
(Break)
It had been a trying twenty-four hours for Harry.
The club had been devoid of those who had attended the last time he'd visited, so he'd found no solid lead, but he'd not been idle. Having left, he'd taken a tour of Knockturn Alley in the hopes of spotting anyone of interest.
It had not been a successful venture, but as he entered the club for the second time in less than a day, he was relieved to see Lord Yaxley seated with a few others unfamiliar to him, surrounded by the debauchery on display.
Harry edged closer to the men, and one in particular caught his attention.
He did not recognise his features, but his presence was unmistakable.
He'd been in the alley the night before, and Harry nodded to himself beneath the cloak.
This was the lead he'd hoped to find, but he knew he needed to be cautious.
Amelia's life hung in the balance.
"When is he coming? The longer we keep her, the riskier it is."
"I am meeting him at midday," Yaxley answered. "I expect he will not want to waste time. He is only coming to see her, and then he will leave for the continent."
The man Harry was watching closely frowned.
"I do not like the vagueness."
"I can assure you, it is better for your own health that you are kept in the dark. Your employer will not hesitate to kill you if you compromise his delicate operation. This is much bigger than you can comprehend. This isn't about one Auror."
"Then what is it about?"
"If I told you, I would have to kill you," Yaxley returned with a grin. "As I said, it is better for you to remain in the dark. Do the job you are being paid for, and paid well, I might add, and it will all be over soon enough. You can disappear, and none will ever know of your involvement."
The man nodded.
"Very well. Midday, you say?"
"Midday."
"I expect to see you shortly after," the man murmured as he stood. "I hope he knows what he's doing. If she dies, well, I don't need to tell you the hornet nest you will be kicking up. The Aurors take this kind of thing personally, and I wouldn't want to be around when they catch up with our employer."
Yaxley snorted amusedly as he waved the man off.
"It is the Aurors who should be worried about him. They will find that out soon enough."
Harry released a deep breath beneath the cloak.
There was only one man Yaxley could be discussing with such admiration, and now more than ever, time truly was of the essence.
Harry knew he needed to get to Amelia before Voldemort did, and that meant he would be pulling no punches.
Following the man as he made his way towards the exit, he stayed barely a few inches away, ensuring he could not suddenly apparate or activate a portkey.
Doing so was risky, but given what he'd just learned, he could not afford to lose track of him.
They made their way onto the streets of Knockturn Alley, and instead of heading towards the apparation point as Harry had expected, he turned instead towards Diagon Alley, and walked towards Gringotts.
What business the man had there, Harry didn't know, but he could not allow him to make it inside.
He remembered vividly his last experience of having to escape the bank, and it was not something he wished to repeat.
No, the time to strike was now.
The man collapsed limply into his arms before he could hit the floor as Harry caught him with a swift spell, vanishing via portkey from the empty, London Street.
They arrived at his home a moment later where Harry placed him in a chair in the basement, securing him and taking a moment to compose himself.
When he was ready, he woke his confused prisoner, who panicked.
"Where am I?" he demanded.
"The last place you want to be," Harry muttered. "Now, where is Auror Bones?"
The man peered at him before laughing and shaking his head.
"I'm not telling you anything. In a few hours, I'll be a very rich man, and she'll be dead."
Harry snorted as he took a step towards him.
"In a few minutes, you'll be screaming for mercy, and there is no one around to hear it."
The man frowned at him as he took in Harry's appearance.
"You're not an Auror."
"Not an Auror," Harry confirmed with a grin as he removed a long, rusty blade from the inside pocket of his jacket. "If I were you, I'd tell me exactly what I want to know. I'm not feeling particularly patient."
"They'll kill you," the man replied. "You'll never get out of there alive."
"Is that so?"
The man nodded, though it was clear he was becoming nervous.
Evidently, he'd not considered he'd be discovered by someone not an Auror. Were he to be arrested, he could remain silent until Voldemort had arrived and done what he intended with the knowledge he wouldn't be harmed.
As Harry had pointed out, he wasn't an Auror and was not restricted by their expected conduct.
"You wouldn't dare," the man spat as Harry raised the blade.
"I wouldn't dare?"
"You have no idea who is behind this! He will get you, just like he did the Auror."
Harry chuckled darkly as he leaned in closer.
"Oh, I know exactly who he is," he whispered. "He is a monster like nothing even your worst nightmares could conjure, but I am not so different from him in many ways. Now, are you going to tell me what I want to know, or am I going to have to inflict more pain on you than you can imagine? Your decision will decide how many limbs are with you whilst you spend the rest of your life in Azkaban if you make it out of here at all. So, what's it going to be?"
"Fuck you!" the man retorted, spitting in Harry's face.
Harry wiped it from his face and shook his head disappointedly.
"I really wish you hadn't done that. CRUCIO!"
Usually, he wouldn't take such a crude approach. Harry was quite able to ignore the compromised part of his mind and magic that Voldemort had left behind. It hadn't always been easy to control his temper, but with the help of the Mind Arts, he did it well enough.
In the moment, however, he felt no need to. He didn't know what Amelia had endured, but he did know that she had such little time before the Dark Lord, who'd plagued much of his own life, was coming for her, and she was not long for the world when he did.
Releasing the curse, he stared at the man, waiting for him to recover as he reined in his anger.
"Even the best of Occlumency practitioners will break under the Cruciatus Curse. You may hold out for some minutes, but you will crack, and you won't fully recover. Do not think for a moment that I won't break you. I'm going to ask you one more time; where is she?"
The man shook his head, and Harry released a sigh of disappointment.
"So be it," he muttered.
(Break)
"I swear to you, Moody, I don't know anything!" Robinson choked.
He was a petty criminal for the most part, but somehow seemed to know something about everything that happened in and around Knockturn Alley.
Alastor had arrested him more than a dozen times throughout his career, and the two had reached something of an understanding.
Usually, Robinson could be bribed with a bottle of whiskey, but this time, he refused to speak. Alastor knew he knew something, he always did.
"I'm not fucking around, Robinson. They took an Auror, and if I don't find her quickly, she will be dead."
"An Auror?" Robinson wheezed. "I didn't know it was one of your lot. Bugger, this will end badly."
"Aye, it will, and for you, too, if you don't start talking."
"Alright," Robinson conceded. "Listen, I don't know much, but I heard two blokes mentioning something about a job, a woman, and a house outside Blackburn whilst I was having a slash in there," he explained, nodding towards one of the pubs he frequented. "I swear to you, that's all I know."
"What about the two men?"
"One of them spoke nicely, you know, like the toffs who go to that posh restaurant. I didn't see his face."
"Was he Northern, Southern, West Country?"
"Londoner," Robinson said confidently. "He was definitely a Londoner."
Alastor nodded and released Robinson.
There wasn't much to go on, but it was more than he'd had a few minutes prior.
"I didn't know it was one of your lot, Moody."
Alastor grunted.
"Aye, go on, bugger off then."
Robinson didn't need telling twice, and with a nod, he vanished down a nearby alleyway.
"Near Blackburn," Alastor murmured.
It was still a large area of the country to search, and they didn't have the numbers to do it. Besides, wherever Bones was would likely be defended well and couldn't be found without knowing where the property was.
No, he would need more information, and the clues Robinson had given him might just be enough to narrow down the search.
He would need to pay a visit to the records room of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
There, he could see if any of the purebloods owned property in that area, and if they did, he would know where to look next.
"Hold on, Bones," he murmured as he vanished from Knockturn Alley, still fighting against the clock ticking against him.
(Break)
She listened intently, trying to count the footsteps that sounded above her but could not do so due to how many pairs of feet there were. Amelia didn't know how many others had arrived, what she did know, however, was that her nervousness only grew since they'd entered the building.
She flinched at the sudden laughter of the men.
Did they find her plight so amusing?
It angered her as much as it filled her with terror.
They were not nervous about what they'd done, and Amelia idly wondered who they were to be so callous and calculated at not only kidnapping an Auror but a woman from a highly respected magical family.
Was the man she'd been warned about here already?
She'd drifted into another uneasy sleep, and had no way of telling whether it was morning, afternoon, or night.
She cursed herself for doing so, but the perpetual darkness made it impossible to know much of anything.
Death.
That was all that awaited her here, and though she continued to cling onto the slither of hope she'd be found, she knew it grew less likely with each passing hour.
Her captor's comfort only made Amelia more nervous, and with the knowledge that a man who seemed to terrify the one who'd cast the Cruciatus Curse on her was coming for her, Amelia knew her chances of escape were all but non-existent.
Once more, she found herself lost in thoughts of all the things she'd not gotten to experience and hoped that whatever her fate was to be, it would be over quickly.
At the very least, this ordeal would then be all over, and she would be with her parents once more.
(Break)
It had taken longer than he'd anticipated, but eventually, Harry had managed to tear through the mam's mind and relieve him of the information he needed. Moody had been right. The man and his companions were professionals and were responsible for no less than fifty kidnappings over the span of two decades.
When Harry caught up with them, the world would be a better place soon after.
Nonetheless, he still needed to be careful.
These men were indeed dangerous, well-connected, and numbered two dozen, all of whom would likely be guarding Amelia Bones.
Shaking his head, he stunned the man and bound him tighter to the chair.
If he died before Harry returned, so be it.
The fate that awaited him if he yet lived was scarcely better.
Spending what remained of his pitiful life in the Janice Thickey Ward of St Mungo's would be deeply unpleasant and likely short when Voldemort learned of what he had divulged.
"Prick," Harry muttered before vanishing from his basement.
He had all he needed, and a few additional items if his efforts went awry.
No matter what, however, he would get Amelia out of there.
He owed her that much, at the very least.
Appearing on the outskirts of Blackburn, he kept himself concealed within the folds of his cloak as he carefully made his way towards where the small home was located.
It belonged to Lord Yaxley, though he had purchased it through the man Harry had captured almost two months before they'd kidnapped Amelia, meaning they'd been watching her closely since shortly after Greyback had been captured.
They'd been calculated in their approach and patiently waited to strike. Their success spoke volumes of how well planned the abduction had been carried out, and even now, Harry suspected they were content they wouldn't be discovered.
They were in for a rather rude awakening.
Unable to forget what was at stake, Harry pressed on, navigating through the woodland he found himself in.
A few miles west of him was a village, but the building he was looking for was further to the North of it.
It had once been a muggle home belonging to one of the farmers who'd died a few years prior, but with no one to inherit the land, it had been auctioned off to a developer who'd been convinced to sell it.
Yaxley's gold had been used to purchase the property, and he'd paid considerably above its value.
Why Yaxley wanted to abduct Bones would have been puzzling were it not for Voldemort's involvement.
The Dark Lord was still some years off from beginning his campaign in Britain, but evidently, he'd spent many years before he'd returned preparing for it.
Where Amelia was concerned, Harry knew his old adversary was simply furious for Greyback's apprehension, but it wasn't lost on him that he would want to know how she'd managed to arrest him.
Whether she wanted to tell him or not, Tom would learn of what had happened, along with Harry's involvement.
That would've been enough to spur Harry into action. His primary reason for helping Amelia, however, was because he knew it was the right thing to do.
She was an exceptional witch, and though they hadn't spoken recently after he'd made it clear he wished to distance himself from her, he still considered her a friend after all they'd been through.
No, he wouldn't see her needlessly murdered by anyone, let alone the man who had made Harry's own life miserable throughout his childhood.
It was that very thought that resonated with him the most as felt the first signs of magic nearby. Already, it felt powerful, and he wondered if it would be possible to breach the defences without being detected.
The closer he got to the source, the more he realised that it was unlikely. The moment he placed even a fingernail outside of the cloak, he would trigger whatever defences were in place, and Harry suspected there were more than those he could initially feel.
Frowning to himself, he knew he needed to make a decision.
Firstly, he could throw caution to the wind and simply blast his way through in the hope he was not confronted by more than he could handle on his own.
That did not seem to be the appropriate course of action.
It was reckless, dangerous, and it could get both him and Amelia killed.
Worse yet, the men holding her could have a contingency in place, for if they were found and had arranged another location, she could be immediately taken to.
No, that wouldn't do, and though Harry was eager to get her out of there, he knew he needed to be more calculated in his approach.
A slight grin tugged at the corner of his lips as he reached a conclusion, one that would have Amelia returned as she was and ensure the men who had taken her paid the price for the act.
With a nod, he set to work, chuckling at his own genius.
(Break)
"Nothing!" Alastor growled as he threw the box of files across the room.
There was no record of any pureblood family owning property on the outskirts of Blackburn, and he wondered if Robinson had fed him a lie to get Alastor off his back.
He wouldn't put it past him, but he didn't believe it was the case.
Robinson was terrified of Alastor arresting him for any of the many petty crimes he committed, and he knew if he lied, it would be discovered.
No, the crook had told the truth, Alastor was just missing something.
What that was, he didn't know, and having seemingly hit another dead end, he hoped Jameson was having better luck than him.
"Come on, Jameson," he murmured as he picked the folders up, pondering his next move.
(Break)
It was rather precarious operating within such magical protections, and though Harry was no stranger to doing so, he'd never been in a situation where he was surrounded by so many hostile people.
He wasn't sure how many there were here, but he knew he was heavily outnumbered.
Usually, it wouldn't be such a problem, but with Amelia caught up in what he was doing, his options were limited. Already, he'd deduced the anticipated outcome was inevitable.
First, he needed to reach that forgone conclusion.
Toiling away, he edged his way closer, nervous but equally excited to see the fruits of his labour.
Despite not being raised by James Potter, there was no denying Harry had inherited the man's proclivity for creative chaos.
(Break)
With how cold it had gotten where she was being kept, it could only be the dead of night, and yet, the activity above her had not slowed. Amelia shivered from the chill in the air and shuffled in her seat as much as she could to stay warm.
It was no good, and she wondered if she would freeze to death before her visitor even arrived.
Still, the men holding her did not seem to be effective and had probably lit a fire to stave off the cold.
It was December, after all.
Attempting to loosen her bonds once more, Amelia huffed in frustration as they remained as unyielding as when they'd been tied.
More food had been dropped at her feet some hours prior, but she hadn't touched it. She had already accepted she'd eaten her last meal, and she had no intention of relinquishing the very limited control she still had over her life.
Releasing a deep sigh, Amelia leaned forward and shook her head.
Coming to terms with her own mortality was not something she'd expected to do so young, and though she knew her life was already all but forfeit, it felt so surreal to consider accepting what was to come.
No, she knew she couldn't give up hope, not until she felt the final breath torn from her lungs.
Amelia shuddered once more as another wave of coldness washed over her, the draft blowing into the room adding to her discomfort.
She involuntarily whimpered a moment later as she felt her blindfold being removed, and as her eyes adjusted to the small amount of light being let into the room through the ill-fitted door, her eyes widened at the sight of Harry Jameson.
He pressed a finger to his lips and pointed towards the ceiling with the other.
How he knew where to find her, Amelia didn't know, but she'd never been happier to see the man.
She remained still as he cut away her bindings with a knife, and from both relief and the numbness of her legs, she collapsed into his arms as he helped her to her feet.
He tried to usher her through a tunnel he'd carved into the basement, and Amelia shook her head as she pointed to her ankle.
Frowning, Jameson lifted her dress, and Amelia blushed in embarrassment as he did so.
She didn't know how long it was since she'd washed, and she was far from looking her best.
Reading the runes on the band that had been placed on her, Jameson nodded his understanding and released a deep breath.
Drawing his wand, he waved it in an intricate pattern before placing a metallic stag in her hand.
"Don't speak, just listen and do what I say," he whispered firmly. "I've managed create a small pocket in the defences, but it will last around another thirty seconds," he explained. "I'm going to shrink your foot to remove the band, and then you need to activate the portkey. Whatever you do, don't leave the room you arrive in."
"What about you?" Amelia asked.
He shook his head.
"This lot needs to be dealt with. They will only come after you again, and I suspect it won't be to kidnap you. Don't argue, Bones, just get out and let me handle it."
Amelia could only nod.
She was in no fit state to help Jameson, and he was assertive as he was certain.
"Ready?"
"Ready," Amelia whispered.
"Go."
The portkey activated, and Amelia screamed into the void as a sudden, shooting pain shot up her left leg.
Before she could register what happened, however, she arrived at her destination with a dull thud as she hit the ground.
For a moment, she thought the portkey had failed but realised she was in another basement entirely and to safety.
She sobbed in relief for a moment before remembering that Jameson was still where she'd been held.
Amelia felt a new sense of dread fill her.
They'd not spoken for months, and yet, he'd come for her once again in her moment of need.
What Jameson was going to do, Amelia didn't know.
All she could do was wait and hope that he would arrive in due course.
Until then, it seemed she was stuck somewhere else, though now, she did not have the threat of further torture and death hanging over her.
(Break)
The moment Amelia vanished, the magical backlash reverberated throughout the house, and everything above him fell immediately still and silent. Harry had planned so meticulously to get the Auror out, and now, as it had been many times, he would be relying purely on his instincts to see him through.
The first thing he needed to do was ensure he had control of the environment, and with the formidable defences still intact, he knew he would not get that here.
No, he needed to clear the proximity of the house but also ensure he had the opportunity to eliminate the threat.
That had been a lesson he'd learned during his training as an Unspeakable.
'Never leave anything in question when it comes to combat, Potter. If there is even the slightest of chances of further danger, remove it, and then remove it again.'
Harry nodded to himself, clutching the odd anklet Bones had been wearing as the thudding of footsteps sounded from above.
Without hesitation, he sprinted into the tunnel he'd created to enter the property beneath the defences and withdrew his Firebolt. Mounting it, he couldn't help but grin as he made short work of the journey that had taken him hours to take.
As the winter wind brushed his cheeks, he laughed into it joyously.
He'd missed flying and had only stopped to avoid the memories doing it evoked.
Now, however, was not the time to focus on them.
Circling around, his wand became a blur as he began laying traps for those pursuing him.
Harry, as ever, found himself against the odds, and these moments would be invaluable to his success.
When he spotted the light in the tunnel of the approaching captors, he used the last of his time to discard the anklet somewhere they would find it within the confines of the defences.
He needed them to believe that Amelia was still close enough to catch.
With the anklet gone, he concealed himself within the cloak and waited.
"She can't have gotten far!" a voice growled as a large group emerged. "How did she even get out?"
Harry counted around twenty lit wand tips.
"Was she checked for an extra wand?"
"Of course she bloody was!"
"Then someone found her! Where's Adrian?"
"He left the day before yesterday."
"Idiots! He was supposed to be back by yesterday morning. You've really fucked this up!"
"Stop bickering, you tossers, and get looking. She's nearby, I can feel it. Groups of four, MOVE!"
Harry grinned as the men spread out, and he began stalking the first of them, the one with the man giving the orders.
Without a leader, any organisation would crumble.
"The tracker is close. Just in there," one of the men whispered, pointing towards the bush Harry had concealed it in when they came upon it a few moments later.
The leader made a gesture, and the four men surrounded it. Raising his hand, he counted back from three, and as one, they pounced.
It was an error on their part, and their screams of surprise lasted but a second as they were hurled in various directions by the explosion that rent the air.
One of the men was slammed into a tree with the unpleasant sound of his spine snapping.
Not that he'd experienced the pain. He was already dead before the collision.
"What was that? DARCY?"
As expected, the other men were in a panic, and as Harry ensured the first group was indeed dead, he lay in wait for the others, like a viper preparing to strike down his prey."
"DARCY?"
Harry placed his hand over the man's mouth as he drove the blade through his spine.
He struggled briefly but soon fell limp, and he too collapsed to the ground, twitching in his final throes of life.
With five down, there were only fifteen left, and already, their fate had been sealed.
By the time Harry was finished, none would remain, and the house they'd kept Amelia in would be reduced to ashes.
Yaxley had lost this round.
Voldemort had lost this round, but Harry knew it was far from over.
If the Dark Lord decided he wanted someone dead, he usually got his way.
Unfortunately for Tom, Harry was the one person who'd unwittingly become adept at surviving against the odds, and he was adamant that Amelia would not fall victim to him.
How he would manage that, he was unsure, but he would not see her killed if he could help it.
(Break)
In the several moments she had been alone and finally free from her hellacious experience, Amelia had managed to calm herself enough to understand what had just happened.
Jameson had come for her.
She had many questions she wished to ask the man, but for now, she was content to revel in her liberation, though she didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
The experience had been surreal and terrifying, and yet Amelia had endured it.
Nonetheless, she idly wondered where Jameson was and what he was doing.
Moreover, she was wondering how she could ever repay him for what he was doing for her. He was risking his life, and he'd already saved hers.
Amelia was in no doubt that she would've been killed if Jameson had not found her.
"Harry!"
He'd appeared whilst she was pondering the past hours of her life, and without thinking, she threw her arms around him.
She'd never looked to anyone to make her feel safe. Amelia had always prided herself on her ability to handle any situation she found herself in but being in his presence and with him holding her tightly after such an ordeal, she realised this was what she needed in the moment.
"Are you hurt?" Jameson asked.
She shook her head against his chest.
"Nothing I won't recover from," she sighed. "How did you find me?"
"Moody came to me," Jameson explained. "Speaking of which."
With a flourish of his wand, he sent off his patronus before taking in Amelia's appearance.
She once again became very conscious that she hadn't washed, that her dress was torn, and that her hair was a mess. It was a ridiculous thought given how they'd spent the better part of a week in the forest with one another, but this felt decidedly different.
"Here," he murmured, resizing her foot. "Would you like a shower?"
"Do I smell that bad?"
"Dreadful," Harry replied with a grin. "Come on, I'll get some food ready for you whilst you get cleaned up."
Amelia nodded as he led her from the basement.
"Where are we?"
"My home," Jameson answered. "I'll give you a tour in the morning."
"I'm staying?"
He nodded solemnly.
"I expect there will still be people looking for you," Harry sighed. "I will need a little time to deal with it."
"You don't have to…"
He cut her off with a shake of his head.
"It's easier to do that than have to find you again," he snorted.
Amelia frowned but nodded when she realised he wouldn't change his mind.
"Could you get a message to my brother? He must be worried."
"Of course. What's his name?"
"Edgar."
He sent off another patronus and showed Amelia into a beautifully decorated bathroom.
"You'll find everything you need in there, and I'll fetch you some clothes. I'll be able to pick up something more suitable in the morning."
Amelia nodded and took him by the arm as he made to leave.
"Thank you, Jameson," she said gratefully. "For coming for me."
He offered her a smile as he deflated.
"Don't thank me yet," he urged. "There's still work to do. Anyway, forget about that for now, that's something for me to handle. I'm just glad you're alright. You are, aren't you?"
Amelia swallowed deeply as she nodded, though a few tears managed to break free.
She wouldn't deny she was traumatised by what had happened, but as Harry wrapped her in his arms once more, she knew she was safe.
"Take as long as you need," he urged. "The kitchen is just through the hall at the bottom of the stairs. Is there anything else you need?"
Amelia shook her head.
"No," she answered. "I don't think so. What happened?"
Harry's expression darkened at the question.
"They won't be bothering you again," he answered ominously.
With that, he left her to take a much-needed bath, and Amelia found her thoughts drifting to exactly what Harry had done after he'd sent her away.