Chapter 18
If there was one thing Harry had not been prepared for when planning his stay in Canada, it was the cold he would have to endure. Even having been here for six months now, it was something he'd not gotten used to.
As such, his first priority had been ensuring the accommodation of the werewolves was suitable and warm enough that they would be comfortable here.
That alone had taken close to a month to achieve. He'd spent days insulating houses and teaching others who wished to learn how to do so and how to light safe fires to heat the homes.
The time investment was not something he'd anticipated, but the housing needs had been only the first of several setbacks.
Fortunately, the acquisition of the land had not been problematic, but erecting the required greenhouses and preparing the farming areas was an ongoing struggle.
With so few of the werewolves capable of using magic, progress was slow.
Only three of the initial twenty-five greenhouses were completely built and in use, and the others were barely empty shells, still requiring considerable work, and yet, this was not the most pressing of Harry's problems.
Harry didn't expect working with werewolves would be the easiest of undertakings.
He knew that for at least a week out of the month, they would be able to do little, but the problems of dealing with a pack went beyond the drawbacks of the disease they lived with.
What became clear to Harry quickly was that, although he was the most unpleasant of people, Greyback was the glue that held the group together.
Without a strong alpha, the disagreements amongst the werewolves were plentiful, and quite the rift had formed, and the pack had all but split up into three different groups.
Two of them were grateful for what Harry was doing for them, but the third was proving to be resistant.
There were those among the latter who had been content living as Greyback intended and did not like the idea of working the farm.
Arguments had ensued, and though violence had not erupted, the atmosphere was undeniably tense.
Harry hoped that when the building was complete, they would come around, but there were those he certainly had his doubts about.
What he would do about them, he didn't know, but he would not allow them to spoil the opportunity for the others who were willing and pleased to have been given such an opportunity.
"Come in," he called as a knock sounded at the door to his cabin.
"Hello, Harry, I brought you some breakfast."
"Thank you, Hanna," Harry replied gratefully. "How are the plants?"
Hanna had been only six when she was bitten and taken by Greyback from her home in Krakow and had been a part of the pack since.
She was one of the werewolves who was keen to learn a skill, and Harry had put the young woman in charge of one of the greenhouses, which was being used to grow ingredients for potions.
Hanna was one of the werewolves with magic, but she'd never had her own wand until Harry had taken her to purchase one.
Although she was still struggling to use it, she was practicing every day and learning quickly.
"We have some saplings of dittany, mandrakes, and venomous tentacula," she revealed. "From what I have read, most of the plants won't show growth for several weeks yet."
Harry nodded.
"Good work," he praised. "What of the fields?"
It had taken days to turn over the first layers of soil to begin growing crops, and much of the work had been done by hand through a combined effort of the pack.
If the crops were successful, there would be ample to feed to the pack and have surplus left over to sell.
"The vegetables are coming in, and the wheat too," Hanna answered.
"That's something, I suppose," Harry murmured. "This is all going to take a while, isn't it?"
Hanna nodded.
"Well, when we get the other greenhouses functioning, and the livestock, it will feel more positive. I bet even the rest of the pack will more willing to help when they see the results of what we're doing."
"I Hope so," Harry replied.
"They will, you'll see," Hanna said encouragingly. "Anyway, I'd best get back to it. I'll be seeing you, Harry."
He ignored the flushing of her cheeks, and she took her leave of the cabin.
Harry appreciated her hard work and dedication, but the same could not be said for many others.
Those that had supported Greyback so ardently would continue to be a problem, and it was only a matter of time before tempers flared and Harry would be forced to act.
He'd given all the werewolves here a second chance, but his patience was not limitless.
If they didn't want to accept his help, then he couldn't force them, but he wouldn't allow the negativity to effect those who wanted a life free from violence and persecution.
Harry had hoped the others would come around, and still did, but he knew there were those that never would and the resistance would continue until he did something about it.
It was moments like these that he longed for home.
He missed the serenity of his house and he missed teaching at Hogwarts. He even missed Amelia, who he wrote to regularly, but he'd not seen the woman for months now.
She often checked in with the elves to ensure everything was going well, and even with the Hippogriffs, who seemed to prefer her company to Harry's.
Still, he knew what he was doing here was a good thing, despite the stress and adversity he was having to overcome, and though it would be easier to quit, Harry knew he couldn't.
The werewolves deserved a life worth living without bringing harm to others, and there certainly wasn't any other who was willing to give it to them.
Harry was, and he was working tirelessly towards doing so.
He just wished there were fewer hiccups along the way and hoped all he'd experienced thus far was teething problems in his latest yet most challenging venture.
(Break)
It had been another long day, and Amelia couldn't help but feel that there had been too many of them recently. With the admittedly sporadic but ongoing protests still taking place and catching up with the backlog of cases which required her attention when she could give it to them, the days seemed to drag at a snail's pace.
Maybe it was that there was no reprieve from the drudgery that made it so seemingly dull.
Until he was gone, Amelia didn't realise just how much relief Jameson provided her with.
Even when she didn't see him, knowing he wasn't far away was enough to know he was around if she needed him for anything.
What she could possibly need from him, however, she didn't know, but she couldn't deny he brought a certain zest to her life.
Admittedly, being kidnapped was not the most ideal of circumstances, but that notwithstanding, he made her realise there was more than just work.
Nonetheless, he was gone now, and though spending time in his home when she stopped by somehow helped in the moments she was there, it was noticeably absent of Harry Jameson.
Six months.
Jameson had been gone for six months, and it seemed the longer he was away, the duller life became.
"What do you need me for, Jenny?" Amelia asked as she entered the examination room.
The woman pointed to a large stack of folders on one of the tables.
"I've been instructed to clear my reports, whether the cases have been solved or not."
"Are these all unsolved cases?" Amelia gasped.
"No," Jenny chuckled. "The unsolved cases are on the other table."
Amelia breathed a sigh of relief that the second stack was considerably smaller, and as she leafed through them, she shook her head.
There were more than she'd like, dating back to almost two years prior and the murder of a wizard in muggle London.
He'd been shot, and the Prime Minister had been most uncooperative.
There were other cases: burglaries, assaults, arson attacks, and even blackmail, none of which were likely to be solved unless new evidence came to light.
Amelia paused as she came upon one of hers from the not-so-distant past.
Although Jenny had been able to identify that part of the coast, the murder of the man dumped in Diagon Alley had taken place, there had been no sign of a struggle along the stretch of the beach.
Whoever had killed the man had cleaned up after themselves and was still at large.
It was the first in what had become a string of neglected cases, largely due to the protests.
Amelia released a deep breath.
Six businesses owned by muggleborns had already closed, and she feared only more would follow.
The purebloods were getting what they wanted.
"How are things?" Jenny asked, pulling Amelia from her thoughts.
"The same as usual, I suppose."
Jenny shot her a pointed look.
"So, dull, unpleasant, and you're overworked?"
"That about sums it up," Amelia sighed.
Jenny offered her a smirk.
"Still missing him?"
"Missing who?"
"Oh, come of it, Amelia, we both know who I'm talking about."
"I have no idea what you mean."
Jenny hummed.
"You're a terrible liar."
"I'm not lying."
"If you say so," Jenny snorted. "Will you be going to his tonight, even though he isn't there?"
"I might be."
"And how many times have you slept there since he's been gone?"
Amelia had not expected such a question, and she busied herself by gathering up the files.
"I haven't," she denied. "Well, not much."
"Five times?"
Amelia scowled at her friend.
It was more than five, but she wasn't going to tell Jenny that.
"It's okay to miss him."
"I don't miss him, not the way you think."
"Really?"
"Really," Amelia replied firmly. "I'll admit, it was interesting having him around, but he's not here, is he?"
"Do you wish he was, even just a little?"
Amelia rolled her eyes.
"Give it a rest," she huffed. "I'll take your files, but I'm not discussing this with you anymore."
"Of course you're not," Jenny grumbled. "You'd rather be miserable than admit you miss him."
"I'm not miserable."
"You're not as chipper as you were when Jameson was here."
"It's been a stressful time at work."
"And he would've made it easier for you with a few of his jokes and a little of his teasing."
Amelia levelled a glare at the grinning Jenny.
"Dinner tomorrow?" she asked.
Jenny nodded.
"But only if you don't mention Jameson," Amelia warned.
"My lips are sealed."
"I'll believe that when I see it," Amelia mumbled as she left the examination room.
It was only a few moments later that she arrived at Harry's home.
"Hello, Miss Amelia," Helga greeted her. "Would you like some dinner today?"
"Only if it wouldn't be too much trouble."
The little elf nodded, and her large ears flapped comically.
"I will fetch it for you, and your room is ready."
Amelia offered the elf a smile and took a seat at the table.
One of the many photos that had been taken during Christmas the previous year was exactly where she'd left it during her last visit, and Amelia picked it up.
It was an image of her looking particularly sullen with her antlers intact.
Jameson had refused to remove them until she'd taken a photo with him to commemorate the moment.
Amelia could've removed them herself, but there had been something rather contagious about his boyish ways at that moment, and she'd found it to be rather endearing.
She sighed as she put it down.
She was not ashamed to admit that she missed his company, even if she'd been unable to enjoy it as much as she'd liked in the weeks leading up to his departure.
"Here you go, Miss Amelia," Helga declared as she placed a plate of spaghetti in front of her. "Master Harry likes this one."
"Thank you, Helga," Amelia replied appreciatively. "Is Bart with the herds?"
"He is," Helga confirmed. "The little thestrals aren't so little anymore."
"I noticed," Amelia chuckled. "How is Albert?"
"As Grumpy as ever," Helga answered.
"I thought as much," Amelia returned amusedly. "Thank you for this, it has been a long day."
"You are very welcome, Miss," Helga replied before vanishing with a gentle pop.
Amelia snorted.
Helga and Bart were both very accommodating to her, mostly because Harry had told them to be.
Regardless, he'd had the foresight to tell them she would likely be stopping by occasionally, though it was unlikely Harry had expected her to spend the night as frequently as she did.
Even now, Amelia wasn't sure why she did.
Maybe it was because she sometimes still had bad dreams of what had happened to her, or it was just that this was just about the only place she ever felt completely safe.
Of course, she felt that in her own home, but being here was different.
It was where she'd been following the abduction.
Not that Harry would mind if she stayed here.
He had told her that she could come and go as she pleased while he was away.
Still, it wasn't quite the same without him.
Yes, he knew how to get on her nerves, he was often childish, and he was aloof, but those were the things Amelia realised she missed about him.
Not that she would tell him or anyone else that.
It would only make him do it more when he eventually returned to Britain.
(Break)
"How is Professor Dodson doing, from what you have seen?" Albus asked.
"Well enough," Minerva answered tightly.
"But?"
Minerva released a deep sigh.
"He struggles to build any rapport with the students," she explained. "His teaching is methodical and acceptable, but he fails to inspire."
Albus hummed as he nodded his agreement.
He'd observed several of the man's lessons for himself, and his thoughts mirrored those of his deputy.
"Did you read through the latest OWL and NEWT results?" he asked interestedly.
"I did," Minerva confirmed. "They were some of the best I've seen since you stopped teaching."
"Indeed," Albus agreed. "Transfiguration scores had improved by almost eleven per cent across the board."
"And Defence Against the Dark Arts by twenty-four," Minerva pointed out.
"A considerable increase," Albus observed satisfactorily.
"Do you think he will come back to Hogwarts?"
"I do," Albus answered confidently.
Minerva nodded.
"I expect if he was here, there would be less of the unpleasantness."
Albus frowned at the mention of the bigoted behaviour that had been on the rise since the students had returned.
Bigoted slurs from pureblood students towards muggleborns and even half-bloods had become a problem that he wished to quell.
With what was happening outside the castle, Albus wasn't truly surprised, but this was a place of education, and not somewhere any should flaunt their politics or prejudices.
If something weren't done, it would become rife, and with the house system in place, there was already a culture of separation amongst the students.
Albus did not want that rift to widen, and he certainly did not wish for the world's problems to spill into the school.
"What would you suggest we do to tackle it?"
"They must be punished harshly," Minerva answered. "We must make it clear that using such derogatory language will not be accepted."
"I agree, but I fear it will do little," Albus sighed. "This is language that has been picked up at home, so they are likely echoing the views of their parents."
"It's the protests," Minerva grumbled.
Albus nodded.
"Alastor says they are becoming more violent," he informed her, "but the hands of the Aurors are tied. There are those on the Wizengamot who support the behaviour and punishing them beyond a fine is proving to be impossible. I do not like it, Minerva, and I fear it will only worsen."
"Someone is pushing this agenda."
"Indeed," Albus murmured. "It has become apparent that it is an organised movement of sorts, but Minister Leach is unwilling to take firm action."
"He's a coward."
"He is the Minister, and he must be seen to be doing his utmost to appease both sides."
Minerva snorted derisively as she stood.
"The muggles tried appeasement a little over twenty-five years ago, and I don't think we will forget how that turned out in a hurry."
Offering a final pointed look, she took her leave of the room, and Albus leaned back in his chair.
Minerva wasn't wrong, but the war between the muggles was of such a large scale that it was all but inevitable.
This was not the same, and Albus remained hopeful that a peaceful solution could be reached.
He did not wish harm on any, and yet, as he pondered what could be done about the brewing conflict amongst the witches and wizards of wizarding Britain, he found himself at a loss.
(Break)
"…and then you cut it just here to prune it without getting any of the thorns stuck in your hand," Harry explained as he trimmed the venomous tentacula. "If you do get pricked, you'll need some dittany for the wound, and the anti-venom is next to it in the potions cabinet. Any questions?"
"Is it fatal?" Hanna asked.
"Not fatal, but it will make you violently sick for a few days."
"Ah, it's nice to know it's not so dangerous," the woman returned sarcastically.
"Just wait until the Mandrakes need to be re-potted," Harry snorted. "Now, that can be fatal."
"You're not joking, are you?" Hanna asked worriedly as she took hold of his wrists.
"No, I'm not joking, but it's not so difficult. You'll be fine," Harry assured her.
Hanna nodded, though she didn't seem convinced.
"You're doing really well," Harry praised. "You'll pick everything up as we go along. By the time I leave, you and the others will know what you're doing."
"When are you leaving?" she asked with a frown.
Harry shrugged.
"When I know this place can function."
'That could be never," Hanna replied amusedly. "There's still so much to do."
"There is," Harry agreed, "but once we get the greenhouses up, they won't take so long to establish, and the fields will mostly maintain themselves. I'm already looking for livestock, so I'd say in around six months to a year at most, this place will be self-sufficient with you lot running it."
"Why are you helping us?" Hanna asked curiously. "Greyback used to tell us that no one else would ever help us the way he did and that he was our only option."
"He was right, for the most part," Harry admitted. "Most people will shun you because of what you are."
"But not you."
Harry shook his head.
"I knew a werewolf once, and the world had treated him terribly, other than his friends," Harry explained. "He wasn't a perfect man, but he could've been much better if he'd not been pushed away and discriminated against for what he was."
"And that's why you want to help us."
Harry nodded.
"Everyone should be given a chance to live a life where they can put food on the table and not have to be scared that they will be driven from their home. Remus helped me, and I was never able to help him. I suppose I'm doing this for him in a way."
"Well, I'm grateful," Hanna declared, "and so are most of the others."
Harry nodded and turned towards the door as it was opened.
"Harry, there's trouble at the new greenhouse."
Harry frowned as he followed Armin.
He was a German who'd been welcomed into the pack after some tough years on the streets Munich.
"What the bloody hell is going on?" Harry snapped.
Igor, one of the main antagonists towards those who were trying to make the farm work, leered at him.
"I was just having a word with some of my pack," he snarled.
"Your pack?" Harry asked. "The last time I checked, Greyback was your alpha, and he's not coming back."
"Because you took him from us!" Igor hissed. "You fucked everything up for us! Everything was going well…"
"You mean when you were killing innocent people?"
Igor bared his teeth at Harry.
"We are werewolves!"
Harry chuckled humourlessly.
"For one night a month," he returned. "For the rest, you are human, just like everyone else. Now, you can either accept what I am trying to do for you and make the best of it, or you can piss off. If you choose the latter, you are no longer under my protection. The world will eat you alive, and there's the fact that if you harm a single person, I will find you."
"And then what?" Igor snorted.
"I'll cut your fucking throat."
The two stared at one another for a moment before the werewolf launched towards him.
With a flick of Harry's wand, Igor found himself dangling upside down, foaming at the mouth in fury as he swiped at Harry, who was just out of reach.
"I'm getting tired of this bullshit."
Harry was seething, but he would not show Igor just how much.
He needed a cool head to prevail, and he did not want to give the other werewolves the impression he wished them harm or would hurt them unless necessary.
"LET ME DOWN!" Igor roared.
Harry's nostrils flared as he fought the urge to curse him.
"I'll let you down, but if you attempt to attack me again, I will not be so lenient, understood?"
"I'll tear your fucking face off!"
"Now, that's just rude," Harry sighed. "You've heard my warning. Whatever happens next is on you."
He released the spell, and Igor crumbled to the ground with a dull thud and a grunt.
Harry remained ready to defend himself, but Igor merely snarled at him before storming away, evidently thinking better of trying his luck once more.
"I am not here to keep you prisoners or have you acting as slaves. Even when the farm is making money, I will continue to feed you, cloth you, and house you. I will even be paying all of you, and you have the benefit of having all this land to yourself where you are free from persecution. What life did you have out there? How many of you could get jobs you could keep? Well?"
A few of the werewolves murmured under their breaths but said nothing else on the matter.
"I am not your enemy," Harry reiterated for the dozenth time since arriving in Canada. "I am trying to help you because no one else will. If you're not willing to accept my help, what is it you want?"
The gathered werewolves remained silent for a moment until Timo, an old Dutchman, stepped forward.
"I've seen the best and worst of the world we live in," he declared. "I've been spat on, shunned, hunted, imprisoned, and even tortured for what I am. All I ever wanted was to earn an honest living and have a home to go home to at the end of the day where I'd be safe. As long as I've got food in my belly, clothes on my back, and somewhere to rest my head, I'm the happiest I've ever been. There's just not much chance of that for us, Mr Jameson, so you'll understand if we are a little sceptical."
Harry nodded.
"I get it," he assured Timo. "This arrangement will benefit all of us, and although I will provide you with the basic necessities, I expect you to earn your wages. Between all of you, you can create a thriving community, but that is up to you all to make that happen. This can be a haven for your kind if you want it to be. This isn't a handout or charity; it is a hand up from living the shit life you had before. It's up to you whether you want to accept it or not. I've said my piece, and I'm always happy to answer any questions or listen to requests and suggestions. You all know where I am."
With that, he walked away and returned to the greenhouse he and Hanna had been working in, wondering if he'd overestimated his ability to make this venture work at all.
(Break)
"Moody, Bones, I want to know what you plan on doing about this stack of files?" Grimm asked.
"They're not all our cases, sir," Alastor pointed out.
"I know that, Moody," Grimm sighed. "I just want to know what is being done about the damned things."
"Well, we can split them amongst the department," Alastor suggested. "It might help to get some fresh eyes on them."
Grimm nodded his agreement.
"Go on. I want the focus today to be…"
He was cut off by the sound of an alarm blaring across the length and breadth of the offices, and Grimm released a deep breath.
"Why won't they just give it a bloody rest?" he huffed irritably. "This is what you get when you have too much time on your hands to be a pain in the arse. Go on, you'd better get out there, hadn't you? I'll deal with the bleeding files!"
He stalked away unhappily, and Alastor gestured for Amelia to follow him into the large group of Aurors preparing to leave the department.
"He's not wrong," Moody growled. "I'm getting bloody sick of protesters."
"It's going to be one of those days today, isn't it?"
"Aye, lass, one of those days," Alastor agreed. "Come on, best get ourselves out there."
They made their way to the room they could apparate from and were at the arrival point in Diagon Alley only a moment later, where they were greeted by a veritable sea of people descending upon those who had come to shop.
"Merlin," Amelia whispered as she took in the sheer number of those carrying signs, banded together in an enormous group.
The Aurors were significantly outnumbered.
This wasn't something new when it came to these protests, but the disadvantage was glaring today.
Many of those within the crowd had covered their faces with white masks, and the signs some carried were outright provocative.
"Well, I can't say I like the look of this," Alastor grumbled.
Amelia nodded her agreement, and she took some calming breaths to lower the sudden anxiety that washed over her.
Even now, she struggled to be in crowds, especially when so many seemed to be rather hostile.
"That will be our first group of troublemakers. Come on," Alastor instructed, nodding towards a small group who were attempting to force their way into the nearby Apothecary.
Amelia knew the owner of the business.
She was a muggleborn woman who was undoubtedly being targeted because of it.
"Get out of it," Alastor growled, seizing one of the group's members by the scruff of the neck and hurling him away.
Amelia quickly stunned the man before he could retaliate and inserted herself into the fray.
Bodies were everywhere, and she pushed through so as not to lose sight of Alastor, who was forcing his way towards those at the front and attempting to breach the defences.
What they intended to do when they were inside, Amelia dared not guess, but they would eventually make it through if they were not stopped.
"KEEP UP, BONES!" Alastor called.
Amelia was doing her utmost to do so, but the crowd were pushing back, and though she managed to stun another few of them, the sea was never-ending, and it was only a moment later that a wave crashed over her and sent her sprawling.
She was struggling to breathe beneath the pile of bodies atop her, and yet, Amelia somehow managed to free herself and make her way to her feet.
"AVADA KEDAVRA!"
Everything seemed to come to a standstill as Amelia's gaze swept across those surrounding her.
All eyes were on her, but the faces were concealed beneath masks, and as she was blinded by the jet of green light, Amelia hurled herself to the floor in a final desperate bid to save her own life.
Somehow, the spell missed her, and Amelia rolled away, casting a stream of fire as she did so.
Already, those within the alley were screaming and fleeing, even many of the protesters, and Amelia used the chaos to her advantage.
Knowing it would be foolish to remain where she was, she tapped the spot on her wrist where her bracelet was hidden and was swept away from Diagon Alley.
Arriving in Jameson's basement, her breathing was laboured, and she trembled fearfully at what had just transpired.
Someone had tried to kill her, and they weren't alone in their efforts.
Everything had gone by in a blur, but Amelia was aware of what had happened.
Swallowing deeply, she checked to ensure she wasn't injured, and she shook her head, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill.
All the progress she'd made in dealing with her abduction had all but evaporated in a single moment, and once more, she felt that very same vulnerability wash over her.
(Break)
A deep frown wrinkled Harry's brow as he felt a sudden disturbance within himself.
For a moment, he thought that perhaps Igor or one of the other antagonists was causing trouble on the farm again, but the unsettling energy that made itself known was almost distant, as though it was far away.
"What's wrong?" Hanna asked worriedly.
"Amelia," Harry whispered in realisation, storming from the greenhouse.
He could not activate any portkey within as it would likely compromise many of the sensitive saplings, but when he was far enough away, he did so.
After a dizzying delay of being pulled through the darkness, Harry found himself in the entrance hall of his home.
Without delay, he ran towards the basement, and cleared the descending staircase in two long strides.
At the bottom, he came upon the sight of the redhead sitting against the wall with her knees pulled to her chest.
"Amelia?" he whispered as he approached. "What happened?"
She was much paler than usual, and her blue eyes were filled with tears.
Swallowing deeply to prevent them from spilling, she shook her head.
"I don't know," she murmured. "Someone tried to kill me."
"Who?" Harry demanded as he took her hands.
Amelia shrugged.
"I don't know, they were wearing masks."
Harry felt a cold fury begin to coarse through his veins, and he squeezed her hands gently.
"It's alright," he soothed. "Take as much time as you need and tell me what happened."
In truth, he needed a moment to calm himself.
If Yaxley had gone back on his word, it would be the last thing the man ever did. Harry would tear his home down brick by brick and bury what remained of him in the rubble.
"It all happened so fast," Amelia murmured. "There was a protest, and I got separated from Alastor. The next thing I knew, I was on the ground, but I managed to get up. Someone fired a Killing Curse at me."
She was in shock, and Harry knew that would wear off soon. When it did, and the reality set in, Amelia would feel even more vulnerable than she did now.
"Give me the memory," he requested. "I'll see it for myself."
Amelia nodded and used her wand to draw the silvery tendril from her temple.
Harry caught it on the tip of his own wand and summoned his pensieve.
"I'll be back in just a minute," he assured Amelia before adding the memory and plunging his face into the swirling mass.
(Break)
Amelia could not describe the sense of relief she felt when she'd heard Harry's hurried footsteps approaching, and the calm demeanour with which he had spoken to her helped maintain her own composure.
Nonetheless, as he disappeared into the pensieve, she wiped away the tears that eventually fell, and she once more felt the terror of the moment she'd experienced grip her.
How long Amelia waited for Harry to return, she didn't know, but when he did, his expression was grim, and his eyes alight with anger.
"He was foreign," he murmured confusedly.
"What does that have to do with anything?" Amelia asked.
"I don't know, but I'm going to find out," Harry muttered. "Here, it will help," he added, offering her a vial of a gently shimmering blue potion. "It's just a calming draught."
Amelia accepted and drained the little glass bottle.
After only a moment, a sense of calmness filled her, and her thoughts were much more relaxed.
"Alastor!" she said in realisation. "He will be looking for me."
Harry nodded.
"Expecto Patronum," he whispered, sending a jet of silver light through the wall. "I don't think this was because of Greyback. The man's accent was Eastern European. All of the werewolves that were a part of his pack are with me, and none would be able to leave without me knowing.
"Eastern European?"
"Is that significant?" Harry asked.
"Maybe," Amelia replied. "From what I know about my parent's murder, I suspect there is Eastern European involvement."
"And have you made any enquiries about it?"
"Not recently," Amelia answered. "Not for years. That was before I was an Auror."
"And what was the response when you did?"
"Nothing. I didn't hear a thing."
Harry nodded thoughtfully.
"Then it was either ignored, or it reached people who have a vested interest in keeping their involvement quiet," he mused aloud. "That's both a good and bad thing."
"Good and bad?"
"It means they've taken note of it and have acted because they think you know something they don't want you to know, and bad because they are clearly willing to do whatever it takes to silence you."
"Do you really think it is that? It's been years," Amelia pointed out.
"Use that brilliant Auror brain of yours, Bones," Harry urged. "The most clever and dangerous of people will bide their time and act when the finger of suspicion will not be pointed at them. If this is what it is, they've played their hand when those around you will blame others."
"Because of what happened with Greyback."
Harry nodded.
"It made international news," Harry reminded her. "If someone wants to keep you from looking into what happened to your parents, this was about the perfect time for them to act."
Amelia saw the logic in doing so, but it did little to comfort her.
"Not that we know for certain this is that," Harry spoke once more. "I will look into it, and I will have an answer soon enough."
Amelia nodded tiredly.
"You must think I'm pathetic," she sighed.
Harry shook his head and took her hands once more.
"What you just did to escape from that is remarkable," he said sincerely. "You avoided the curse expertly, and you demonstrated great situational awareness. You might not have noticed, but there were twelve of them, and your fire spell was inspired. What you did takes exceptional skill, and a lesser person would not have made it out at all. You should be proud of yourself."
Amelia appreciated his words.
It wasn't often Jameson offered praise so freely, and he only ever did so if he meant it.
"Come on, I don't think sitting in the basement is doing you any good," he chuckled as he stood and offered her his hand.
Amelia accepted it, and Harry pulled her to her feet.
"What happens now?" she asked.
"You have to be vigilant, Bones," Harry replied simply. "I will ascertain the reason behind what happened, and then we go from there."
Amelia nodded and gripped his hand tightly.
"Not yet," she requested. "I'd rather you stayed with me for a while if you don't mind."
Harry nodded.
"Of course," he agreed. "It can wait for a little while."
(Break)
"BONES! WHERE ARE YOU?"
Diagon Alley was awash with activity.
Aurors were scattered as they searched for whoever it was who had cast the Killing Curse in the crowded street, but Alastor suspected they were long gone.
In all his years as an Auror, he'd never seen such a large group of people scatter so quickly, and in the chaos, he'd lost track of Amelia.
"BONES?" he called again.
"Moody, where is Bones?" Grimm asked as he stalked towards Alastor with his wand drawn.
"I don't know, sir," Moody answered. "She was with…"
"Bloody hell," Grimm cursed as an enormous, white stag appeared in front of them.
'Bones is safe, she's with me. I will fill you in later.'
"Jameson," Alastor grumbled. "She's with Jameson."
"Why would she be with Jameson?" Grimm asked confusedly.
"Because that Killing Curse was aimed at her," Moody deduced.
"Greyback's lot?"
"I don't know," Alastor grumbled, "but I'm guessing it has something to do with it. Bastards!"
Grimm nodded his agreement.
"So, we wait for Jameson?"
"It's all we ever can do with him," Alastor huffed.
Whatever happened in those moments of chaos was lost on Moody, and he couldn't help but feel guilty that he'd lost track of Amelia. He'd been so intent on preventing the protesters from gaining entry to the Apothecary he'd been unaware of everything around him.
Still, Amelia was safe, and in their field of work, that was what truly mattered.
Now, he would have to wait for Jameson to fill him in on what had happened.
(Break)
Amelia woke in a cold sweat, her breathing laboured and her bed absent of Jameson's presence.
After they'd left the basement, he'd run her a bath and left her to calm down from what she'd endured. When she'd come out, he had food waiting for her on the kitchen table.
They spoke little, and Amelia had begun to crash from the adrenaline that had been rushing through her.
She remembered Harry almost carrying her to her bed, and he'd even commented that it appeared she'd been sleeping in it regularly.
Amelia had been too tired to respond, but she remembered asking him not to leave her, and she was certain he'd given her some Dreamless Sleep.
Checking her watch, she realised she'd been asleep for hours, and Jameson had evidently left her to rest.
Still, his scent wafted from the other side of the bed, and though it wasn't the same as him being here, it brought her some comfort.
"Is Miss Amelia okay?"
Amelia nodded.
"I'm fine, Helga. Where is Harry?"
"I don't know, but Master Harry was very angry when he left," she explained. "He asked me to look after you and said he'd be back soon."
"How long has he been gone?"
"Almost four hours."
Amelia released a deep breath.
"Do you know if he is okay?"
Helga closed her eyes for a moment before nodding.
"Master Harry is well but still very angry, Miss."
Amelia nodded once more.
"Would Miss like some coffee whilst she waits?"
"Yes, please, Helga."
The little elf vanished with a gentle pop, and Amelia leaned against her pillows, waiting for Harry to return and tell her where he'd gone.
He'd never been one to stand on ceremony, so she was not surprised that he was taking immediate action.
Nonetheless, Amelia felt as though she would be the one to be investigating what happened to her.
She'd never been used to anyone looking out for her in such a way, not until Harry Jameson had come into her life.
It was nice to know he seemingly cared so much to do so, and yet, she didn't want him to see her as a damsel in distress who needed him to fix her problems.
Amelia was far from such.
Still, it warmed her to know he was there for her when she needed him, and he always seemed to be.
"Idiot," she snorted fondly.
(Break)
He drained his third glass of whiskey of the evening before placing the tumbler on his desk with a dull thud. Whatever fool had cast the Killing Curse in the middle of the protest had ruined what the Dark Lord was trying to achieve.
He wanted chaos, but he wanted it to escalate incrementally, and what had happened today had been anything but.
The aim of the protest was to ruffle some feathers, to show how passionately they opposed muggleborn businesses, and hopefully encourage the owners of these businesses to close.
To attempt to murder someone in broad daylight and in a crowd was as utterly reckless as it was stupid.
Yaxley released a breath of frustration as he picked up the bottle of liquor once more, only to release a yelp of shock and pain as his head was slammed into his desk.
"We had a deal!" a familiar voice snarled. "Bones is to be left alone."
Yaxley whimpered as a gentle hissing filled the room, and he found himself face-to-face with a large black cobra.
"I d-don't know what you're talking about," he protested. "We've left her alone!"
"Then why did someone try to kill her today?"
Yaxley swallowed deeply.
"I don't know, I swear! It was nothing to do with us," Yaxley said truthfully. "The Dark Lord told us to take care of her, but we decided against it. Killing an Auror would draw too much attention to us."
The man hummed.
"I'm not sure I believe you."
Yaxley whimpered again as the snake lunged at him, but it struck short.
"Fucking hell, it wasn't us!"
"Make sure it stays that way."
A sudden coldness filled the office, not so dissimilar to the darkness that seemed to cling to Tom Riddle, and Yaxley once more found himself alone.
With a trembling hand, he picked up the whiskey and took a deep swig straight from the bottle.
He'd considered the possibility that this mystery man and Riddle were one and the same, but Yaxley knew it was merely wishful thinking.
This man was not Riddle, even if he was equally intimidating.
No, this was another, likely a relative of Tom, who did not share his ambition.
Once more, Yaxley considered telling Tom about this man, but with the permeating magic and the threat still ringing in his ears, he decided against it.
If there was an unknown family feud taking place between Riddle and another of the Slytherin line, that was something Yaxley did not want to involve himself in.