Chapter 22
"Has Albus managed to convince you to return in September?" Filius asked as he and Harry were setting up the Great Hall.
"I wasn't aware Albus wants me to return," Harry replied.
Filius shot him a pointed look.
"You know as well as I do that is what he wants," he chided lightly. "Have you given it any thought?"
Harry shrugged.
"I've considered it," he admitted. "If he asks, then I might be tempted, but don't tell him that. It's fun to see him work for something."
"My lips are sealed," Filius assured him with a chuckle. "What is the plan for this evening?"
"Well, their aim is improving significantly, so we should probably give them something fun to begin working with."
"Such as?"
"Maybe we should let some of them duel each other," Harry suggested. "It will give us an idea of what each student needs to work on moving forward. Of course, we will be on hand to ensure nothing unpleasant is used."
"This could be messy," Filius pointed out.
"Where's your sense of adventure?" Harry asked amusedly. "We'll have to show them trust at some point. Better to do that now and set a standard than further down the line."
Filius nodded his agreement.
"Fine, but you will explain the injuries to Poppy if things go wrong."
Harry winced.
He'd never forgotten the bedside manner of the Healer he'd spent several days of care under throughout his own time at Hogwarts.
"Fine," he agreed. "I suppose we'd better let them in then."
He did so, and the students filed in once more, followed by Minerva and Horace, who had continued to attend the meetings.
Very few of the students who had arrived for the very first had failed to return, though most were first years. Even Rowle was here, and thus far, he'd kept his prejudices to himself.
"Settle down," Harry called as he stepped onto the platform. "To begin with today, we are going to complete the aiming exercise we have been working on, and then we are going to have some of you duelling one another. Form up into your groups," he added, raising his voice to be heard over the excitement that had ensued.
He watched as the students worked through the task, each of them showing significant improvement since the first meeting he'd held. Most were now able to hit the fourth target, and some up to the eighth, which was scarcely bigger than the size of a fist.
Nodding approvingly, Harry ended the exercise after each had completed it a few times and took his place on the platform once more.
"Good," he praised. "You are all getting better with your aim, but we will now see if it stays as accurate when you are under pressure. Not all of you will get to duel today, and frankly, some of you won't be ready for a while a yet, but you will get there, with continued practice. Mr Rowle, you're up first and will be facing off with Miss Black."
The two stepped onto opposite sides of the platform, the latter looking more pleased than the former.
"There will be no spells that are lethal, or that can cause lingering harm. You will keep your magic clean, and I will intervene if necessary. Now, you will each bow and begin on the count of three. If you do not comply with the count, you will be automatically disqualified. Understood?"
Both students nodded, offered the other a bow, and waited for the count.
Bellatrix was smiling excitedly, and Rowle seemed nervous, with good reason.
At her young age, the girl was an exceptional witch.
"Three, two, one…"
Bellatrix immediately unleashed a flurry of spells, and Rowle, in anticipation of this, erected a shield to block the onslaught.
It served to protect him for a short time, but his approach had been an error.
As expected, it eventually collapsed, and though he managed to block two more spells, he was sent skidding off the edge of the platform by the third.
The other students clapped as Rowle was helped to his feet, and Harry nodded approvingly, stepping back onto the platform.
"How can anyone hope to beat that?" the boy huffed irritably, pointing towards Bellatrix.
"No one can," the girl replied smugly. "I've been trained by my grandfather."
"You need a different approach," Harry explained to Rowle.
"What approach?"
"Using a shield against someone who likes to overwhelm is only effective for as long as you can maintain it."
"Then why don't you show us, Professor?" Rowle returned irritably.
Harry shook his head.
"Bellatrix would beat him," one of the other Slytherins goaded.
"I think I could," Bellatrix declared.
The other students let out a collective sound of agreement, and Harry shrugged.
"Fine," he sighed as he made his way to the opposite side of the platform. "The same rules apply. Professor Flitwick, if you don't mind?"
The diminutive man was smiling as he nodded and held up his hand, and the rest of those looked on excitedly.
Bellatrix continued to grin in anticipation, and Harry's own expression remained impassive.
The girl was going to learn a valuable lesson in the coming moments.
"Three, two, one…"
As expected, Bellatrix began with a lengthy onslaught of spells, and Harry diverted them away from her intended target and avoided the others he could.
Having allowed her a moment to find a rhythm, he offered his rebuttal.
With an upward flick of his wand, the platform began to fold behind the girl, the groan of the wood catching her attention.
Before she could counter the spell, however, the section burst into a flurry of bats which swarmed Bellatrix.
She managed to incinerate them with a gout of fire but quickly found herself enshrouded in the resulting smoke. With her unable to see, Harry flicked his wand, and the remainder of the platform flung the girl into the air.
Bellatrix unleashed a scream, but Harry caught her with another spell, leaving her dangling upside down and bereft of her wand, which he had taken from her during his own onslaught.
With her eyes wide and breathing laboured, Bellatrix stared at him in disbelief, a sentiment shared by those looking on.
"What mistake did she make?" Harry asked as he lowered her back to the platform.
"She tried to attack you the same way she did Rowle," one of the Slytherin students answered.
"True," Harry acknowledged, "but it is much simpler than that."
"She wasn't prepared to defend herself."
"Again, true, but not quite what I'm looking for."
When no one offered another answer, Harry returned the girl's wand before speaking once more.
"You challenged someone you knew nothing about," he explained to Bellatrix. "You're very good for your age, but even the very best duellists research their opponents. It's one thing to be confident in your ability, but to allow your ego to get you into something you're unprepared for is dangerous. In a sanctioned duel, you could get seriously injured, and in a real-life situation, it will get you killed. In that short exchange, I could've ended your life three times, taken a limb four, cut you so deeply you'd bleed out eight, and cursed you with something you'd never recover from just as many. I'm not trying to discourage you, but I am urging a little more caution. It is good to be pushed, but you do not want to take on more than you can handle in a duel or in a fight."
Bellatrix nodded her understanding and continued to stare at him in awe.
"I think that's enough today," Harry announced. "We will be duelling more frequently from now on. Off you go."
The students chatted excitedly amongst themselves as they left, and Filius patted Harry on the elbow.
"She learned a valuable lesson."
"She did," Harry agreed. "All that remains to be seen is if she remembers it."
"And that is one of the reasons why you should consider returning. If Albus hasn't asked yet, he will."
Harry nodded.
"He did mention it a while back, but not since."
"Then I expect he will raise it with you soon enough," Filius chuckled as he followed the students and took his leave of the hall.
Harry expected it too.
He'd not spoken to the headmaster since the night he'd visited to ask for information pertaining to the murder of Amelia's parents, and although that had only been a week prior, Harry was waiting for Albus to come to him, hopefully with a meeting having been arranged with someone who could help.
It had been on his mind in the following days, and Harry still questioned if he was doing the right thing.
At the very least, he wanted to see if anything had been missed or if, as he suspected, something underhand had occurred during the investigation.
Until Albus came to him, however, there was little more he could learn without discussing it with Amelia, and that was something he was not quite ready to broach with her.
(Break)
They'd never been given a specific date that their parents had been murdered, so Amelia and Edgar treated the day they'd been informed of it as the anniversary.
Edgar would simply bury himself in his work and do his utmost not to acknowledge the day, and Amelia found she was particularly focused on her own.
Perhaps it was her own way to deal with it, but it never truly helped or made it easier to cope.
Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if they'd been given closure on what had happened, that they'd been given the chance to come to terms with it, at the very least.
They had not been granted that, and it hung over each of them like a dark cloud.
For Chris, it was different.
He had no recollection of their mother and father, and though he mourned for them, he'd always been rather distant from what had happened than the elder siblings.
Amelia knew Edgar carried the same anger as she did and that he coped with it by shutting himself in his study.
Both Eliza and Amelia accepted this, even if it wasn't the healthiest thing he could do.
Not that Amelia felt she was in a position to judge.
"How're you holding up?" Alastor asked as he peered into her office.
Amelia shrugged as she placed the final piece of parchment she'd been finishing on top of the pile she'd already completed.
"As good as any other year."
Alastor offered her a sympathetic smile.
"Aye, I thought as much," he murmured. "Well, you've got the day off tomorrow. Get yourself home, lass. It won't make you feel better being here."
"It won't make me feel better going there."
"Then don't," Alastor chuckled. "I didn't know your father well, but enough to know he wouldn't want you here moping around."
"You tell me that every year, Moody."
"And maybe one day you will listen."
"Maybe one day you'll let me deal with it in my own way!" Amelia snapped.
She shook her head and released a deep breath.
"I'm sorry. I know you're only trying to help."
"Aye, I am," Alastor sighed. "I don't know what it's like to lose my parents the way you did, but the way you deal with it is shit, Bones. I'm no expert on it, but maybe you should go and see that counsellor of yours again and find a better way. You can't keep doing this to yourself."
"I know," Amelia replied as she stood. "What else can I do, Alastor?"
"Only you can figure that out, Bones. Find someone you can talk to about it, or someone who can at least take your mind off it."
Amelia nodded.
"I will," she assured him. "I'm sorry for taking it out on you."
"Think nothing of it, lass," Alastor insisted. "I know this isn't an easy time of year for you. I just wish I could help you more."
"Me too," Amelia murmured as the man took his leave of the office.
She felt guilty for snapping at Moody. He didn't deserve it, after all.
Eyeing the pile of completed paperwork, she decided to file it before her day off, though when the short task was complete, she was at a loss as to what she should do.
She could go home and wallow in her own misery along with Edgar's, but she didn't want to intrude on her brother, and in truth, she didn't need to be around someone in a similar mood to herself.
No, that would serve no purpose.
Instead, she decided she would visit the two herds at Jameson's house.
He would be at Hogwarts this evening, and the thestrals and hippogriffs brought her something of a sense of peace.
With her mind made up, Amelia left the Department of Magical Law Enforcement in the hopes of at least distracting her mind from the dreaded anniversary that seemed to come by quicker with each passing year.
(Break)
"Have you had a good day?" Harry asked Zelda, who had coiled herself around him.
"Yes," she replied contentedly. "I found a very large rat in the fields."
"Good," Harry chuckled.
Although progress with her continued to be slow, Zelda spoke more and was happy to venture out into the grounds and hunt for her own food.
Her wings had not grown back, but she was no longer as needy and clingy as she'd been when he'd first brought her home.
"The big birds still chase me."
"That's because they think you will eat their babies."
"I might."
"I'd rather you didn't."
"Okay," Zelda sighed. "I won't eat the babies."
"Thank you."
"Stupid birds."
Harry could only shake his head amusedly.
He'd seen the hippogriffs, especially Albert, chase the large serpent away from the herd when she got too close to them.
"I think we have a visitor."
"It will just be the red lady."
"Why do you call her the red lady?"
Zelda had always referred to Amelia as such, and Harry didn't know why.
"She's always red."
Harry didn't understand the answer, and as he placed the occamy back on her enormous basking log, he didn't press the matter. She liked to speak in small bursts but would become shy again if the conversation continued for too long.
"Is there anything else you need?"
"No."
"Then I will see you in the morning," Harry assured her as he left her room.
Making his way into the kitchen, he paused when he realised Amelia wasn't in there. Usually, by now, she would be waiting at the table whilst Helga prepared her a meal, but she wasn't anywhere to be seen.
"Miss Amelia is outside," the little elf informed him. "She is very sad today, Master Harry."
"Sad?" Harry asked, a frown marring his features. "Oh," he added in realisation.
Releasing a deep sigh, he exited the kitchen into the grounds and spotted the woman sitting amongst the thestrals just a short walk away.
He'd not been around the previous year when the anniversary of her parent's death had come around, and the lost expression Amelia wore was reminiscent of his own after he'd entered the wizarding world and learned of the Potter's fate.
Harry had often spent time with Hedwig in the owlery on Halloween, unable to share in the joy of the other students, who celebrated the holiday and the fall of the Dark Lord.
For Harry, Halloween had become a day of mourning for the parents who had given their lives for him, though the deaths of James and Lily had been only the very beginning of the misery that had followed.
"Does it ever get any easier?" Amelia asked when she became aware of his presence.
"No," Harry answered simply. "Even after I killed him, it doesn't take it away."
Amelia nodded and continued petting the foal sitting in front of her.
"I hate feeling like this," she murmured. "I wish I could forget about it…"
"Then you wouldn't be who you are," Harry broke in. "Everything we experience in life shapes us, both good and bad. You do what you do because of what happened to them, and you're damned good at it. I have no doubt that you would bring them back in a heartbeat, and I would do the same for mine, but not even magic can do that."
"I know."
"It's alright to feel lost, alone, and that unending frustration."
"What about anger?"
"That too," Harry assured her. "I used to try and swallow it all down, but that didn't help. It would eventually overwhelm me, and I'd have horrible outbursts."
His own was partly due to the Horcrux that was attached to him, but his anger remained palpable even after he was rid of it.
"Have you eaten?"
Amelia shook her head.
"Then you should," he urged. "Come on, I've not had anything either."
He offered the woman his hand, and she rolled her eyes as she accepted it.
"You should eat, Jameson," she chided.
"Look who's talking."
She smiled somewhat, and Harry wrapped his arm around her shoulder.
"What are we going to do with you, Bones?" he sighed.
"It isn't your problem."
"Well, when you arrive at my house, it becomes my problem," Harry pointed out. "Besides, it's no good trying to deal with it by yourself, especially when you have someone who won't let you mope around."
"I'm not moping."
"What would you call it then?"
Amelia shrugged.
"I don't know."
"Moping it is then," Harry returned with a grin. "What would you like to eat?"
"I'm not hungry."
"I know, but you're going to eat something. How about some pasta?"
"Fine," Amelia agreed.
"Some pasta, please, Helga," Harry requested as they entered the kitchen, leading the woman to a chair. "Drink?"
"Something strong."
"A lady after my own heart," Harry chuckled, summoning a bottle of whiskey into his hand.
"How do you do that?" Amelia asked curiously.
"Do what?"
"Summon things without a wand."
"Oh, well, just practice," Harry answered.
In truth, he just found he could do it without much difficulty when the Horcrux had gone.
He suspected that given the number of hours he'd practiced the charm in preparation for the first task of the Triwizard Tournament, it had come naturally to him without a wand.
"Is it just one of those Jameson things?"
"Jameson things?"
"It's just what I call all the things you seem to do easily that others would struggle with."
"Very little has come easily to me," Harry returned amusedly. "I've had to work really hard for most things."
Amelia nodded.
"I know, but you make it look easy."
"Well, that sounds like a compliment."
He poured them both a generous measure of whiskey and handed a glass to Amelia. She drained it in a single gulp, and he placed the bottle beside her.
"I'll just leave that there, shall I?"
"It will be more convenient," she replied, pouring herself another and nodding towards Harry's glass. "You're not going to make me drink alone, are you?"
He drained his, and Amelia immediately poured him another.
"They say drinking doesn't help," Harry said with a frown as he eyed the amber liquid. "I say that's bollocks. Drinking has helped me more than once."
"I've not seen you drink much."
"Not long before we met, I drank more often," Harry explained. "There was a muggle bar I used to frequent."
"Why did you stop going?"
"I suppose I found a purpose," Harry murmured. "I think I was lost for a while. The world passed me by, and I was stuck in my own."
"What changed?"
Harry chuckled at the question.
"Too much all at once," he sighed. "Anyway, this isn't about me."
He emptied his glass once more, and Amelia refilled it.
"Keep up, Jameson, I'm already two ahead."
"I didn't realise this was a competition."
"It's not," Amelia said dismissively. "I just don't want you to fall behind."
Harry quirked an eyebrow at her before finishing another drink taking the bottle from the woman and pouring another. He narrowed his eyes at Amelia and repeated the feat.
"Now, we're even."
She nodded and raised her glass.
"To us," she toasted.
"Don't you have work in the morning?"
"No."
Harry merely shrugged in response as he mirrored her in drinking his next measure.
"To us," he agreed.
"How did the duelling club go?"
"Well enough," Harry sighed. "Most of them think they're better than they are, but that's just being a teenager, isn't it?"
"I was a good duellist when I was a teenager," Amelia replied. "Not as good as I am now. I've been practicing a lot more after what happened."
"I was never much of one," Harry admitted. "I learned most of what I do by being in life-threatening situations. I suppose I just got used to them that I got better and better."
"Do you think I could beat you?" Amelia asked.
"I don't see why not," Harry replied with a shrug. "As skilled as any duellist is, it only takes one mistake to be beaten, even by someone less skilled."
He had defeated Voldemort, after all, and Harry was under no illusion that he was the better duellist or even close to the man's ability with magic.
Things were different now, but even so, after all Tom had done, Harry still wasn't convinced he'd beat the Dark Lord.
"We could always find out," Amelia said challengingly.
"I don't think us duelling after drinking so much is a good idea," Harry snorted, nodding towards the empty bottle of whiskey.
"You're not scared, are you, Jameson?"
She was grinning at him.
"Scared?" Harry chuckled. "I'd just rather not burn my house down. I'm rather fond of it."
"Me too," Amelia agreed. "I don't know what it is about being here, but it's so peaceful, like nothing outside of these four walls matter."
"That's what I was hoping for when I bought it."
"Was hoping for?"
"Well, it keeps being invaded by the magical law enforcement," Harry replied with a smirk. "I'm just glad I'm not up to anything illegal. It would be bad for business."
"Invaded?" Amelia scoffed. "I was invited once or twice," she added indignantly.
Harry held up a placating hand.
"I told you that you're welcome whenever you like."
Amelia hummed and looked confusedly at the empty bottle.
"Jameson, it's all gone," she pointed out, her words slurring slightly.
"I can see that."
"Did we drink all of it?"
"We did, and you didn't eat your pasta," Harry chuckled, nodding towards the plate Helga left a while ago now.
"Neither did you," Amelia returned. "I need to use the restroom."
"You're not going to be sick, are you?"
She offered him a pointed look as she left the kitchen and vanished down the hallway.
He heard her stumble, and Harry poured her a glass of water for when she returned.
Drinking an entire bottle of whiskey between them was probably not the best idea, but it had succeeded in taking her mind off what had happened to her parents for a short time, at least.
Amelia's steps were uneven as she entered the kitchen once more, and she held on to the counter to assist her back in her seat.
"Are you alright, Bones?"
She tutted at him.
"I'm fine. It's not the first time I've been drunk, Jameson."
"Ah, so you admit it?"
"Would there be any use in denying it?"
"Not really," Harry chuckled as he handed her the water.
Amelia took a sip and grimaced.
"I thought it was more alcohol."
"I don't think that's a good idea."
Amelia scowled at him and kicked off her shoes.
"Do you dance, Jameson?"
"Not well," Harry replied amusedly.
"Will you dance with me?"
Harry imagined his expression was deeply uneasy.
The only time he'd ever danced had been at the Yule Ball with Parvati Patil and again with Ginny at Bill's wedding.
"Come on, you can't be that bad," Amelia huffed as she stood and held out a hand. "You're supposed to be trying to cheer me up."
"Fine, but I won't be held responsible for any broken toes."
"I've had worse," Amelia replied airily, almost tripping as she took a step towards him.
Harry caught the laughing woman, and she clung to his shirt to keep herself upright.
"You might have to hold me up a little," Amelia murmured. "Music?"
With a flick of his wand, the radio began playing a slow, soft number, something Harry was grateful for. He didn't think Amelia was capable of much more, and neither was he, for that matter.
He wasn't losing his footing, but he couldn't profess to be sober.
It had been some time since he'd drunk so much, and the whiskey was having an effect on him too.
"See, you're not so bad," Amelia complimented as Harry did his utmost not to trod on her toes.
"I suppose I'm not as bad as I remember," Harry returned, trying to maintain his concentration. "Nope, just as bad," he added as Amelia winced.
"It seems as though we have found something that Harry Jameson isn't so good at," she teased.
"There are lots of things I'm not good at," Harry returned. "I'm quite terrible at Potions, I can't sing, and, as you can see, I can't dance."
Amelia nodded and lost herself in the music for a few moments, leaning her head against his chest.
"You know, I'm still trying to figure out if I like you or not," she murmured.
"If you like me?"
"You know what I mean."
"I really don't."
She released a deep breath.
"I don't know if I like you because of all the things we've been through and you've done for me or if it's just you."
"I'm confused," Harry chuckled.
"Is it really so confusing? I think you know what I mean, Jameson. You're not going to make me spell it out for you, are you?"
"Don't you think this is a conversation to have when we are both sober?"
Amelia shook her head.
"I couldn't say this if I were sober," she snorted. "No, I don't think I'd ever be able to do that. I can arrest criminals but not deal with things like this."
Harry was taken aback and found himself lost for words.
"Can I try something?" Amelia asked, looking up at him.
"What do you want to try?"
"Just…something," Amelia replied curiously.
She looked up at him from beneath her lashes, her blue eyes meeting his before they fluttered closed.
Harry didn't know what to think, but as her arms folded around the back of his neck, and she pressed her lips to his, he simply found himself focused on the tenderness of the kiss.
It was like no other he'd ever experienced.
With Cho, it had been rather aggressive and filled with anger.
With Ginny, almost possessive and alien.
With the muggle girls he'd liaised with, it had merely been hungry and lustful.
This was somehow a mixture of all of these, though the most overwhelming thing Harry felt was desire. Not so much in the physical sense as it was that Amelia wanted every part of him, that everything she felt was being transmitted to him in one simple gesture.
"Oh, I shouldn't have done that," she whispered.
Amelia had broken away before Harry could really indulge himself in the moment.
"Have you found something else I'm not very good at?" he asked teasingly through the disappointment.
She shook her head.
"No, but it makes everything just that more complicated."
"How?"
Amelia released a deep breath.
"I'd just about convinced myself that I liked and cared about you so much because of what you'd done for me," she admitted. "Merlin, was I wrong."
Her eyes remained closed, her breathing was laboured, and Harry found himself lost for words.
Amelia's lips were still slightly parted, and even through the haze of the alcohol, he'd never seen such a beautiful sight.
Harry hadn't been foolish enough to ignore her beauty or that he found just about everything about the woman to be exceptional.
Perhaps there had been a time when they'd first met that he'd been unable to separate the Amelia here from the one he'd met very briefly, and when that had ceased to be, he didn't know.
What he did know was that, somewhere along the way, the dynamic of their relationship had irrevocably shifted, and both had chosen to ignore it for their own reasons.
"Should we just pretend this didn't happen?" Amelia asked.
She was looking up at him again, and Harry felt his hold on her tighten.
Even if he wanted to, he knew that there was no going back for him.
He wanted her.
Not in the same way he'd drunkenly wanted any of the muggle women or even his inexperienced and immature crushes he'd had on Cho and Ginny.
What he'd experienced from Amelia reflected exactly what it was he wanted, and though it had been intense, overwhelming, and something he'd been unwholly prepared for, it was something he'd undeniably been deprived of his entire life.
For Harry, there was no doubt that Amelia wanted him merely for who he was, for the wise-cracking, caring, able man he'd grown to be over the past several years.
Here, he wasn't Harry Potter, the-boy-who-lived, the vanquisher of the Dark Lord Voldemort, the Chosen One, or any other stupid moniker he despised.
He was simply Harry Jameson, just one of many other men she could've chosen without any influence from who he once was.
"Can you forget it?" he asked.
Amelia swallowed deeply as she looked up at him and shook her head.
That was all Harry needed to urge him on to kiss her, and instead of thinking about what was happening, he allowed all thoughts to escape him as they just fell into one another once more.
(Break)
"I'm thankful you managed to find time to meet with me," Albus offered sincerely, gesturing for the man to take a seat.
He did so after removing his cloak.
"And you have my apologies for the delay," he replied. "Things have been increasingly busy."
"I expected as much," Albus sighed. "Any luck thus far?"
"None," the man grumbled, "but that is my problem to solve. What is it I can do for you, Albus? It is not often you reach out."
The headmaster nodded.
"I was hoping you would meet with an associate of mine. He is investigating a rather delicate matter and one I'm certain you will remember. The murder of Lord and Lady Bones."
The man hummed.
"An unpleasant business," he sighed. "But from me, there is little I can give on the matter, and certainly not to a civilian. You know how we operate, Albus."
"I do, but this man is not just a regular civilian. He is the very same who orchestrated the capture of Fenrir Greyback."
"Is that so?" the man asked interestedly as he scratched his beard beneath his cloak. "He's good then?"
"Young and as exceptional as any I have met. I assure you; your time will not be wasted."
The man hummed once more as he nodded to himself.
"I will meet with him, Albus, but I make no promises that I will help him, and certainly not without something in return."
"What would you ask of me?"
"Not of you, Albus," the man said dismissively. "If there is something I require, it will be from your associate if I deem him worthy. Send for him. I will wait."
Albus felt a sense of apprehension wash over him as he did so, though he did his utmost not to let it show.
The man before him was perhaps the only one who had access to the vital information Harry so sorely needed, and yet, the two of them meeting could prove to be quite disastrous, in more ways than one.
(Break)
Neither had said much as they broke the second kiss, choosing to just relish in the closeness of one another. In truth, no words had felt necessary, and eventually, both had dozed off on the sofa sometime after they'd taken a seat.
Harry was in between a state of sleep and wakefulness when he felt a sudden surge of warm magic burst in front of him, and he narrowed his eyes at the corporeal phoenix floating above him.
'You have my apologies for disturbing you, Harry.' It spoke in Dumbledore's voice. 'There is a man who is willing to meet you to discuss what it is you asked me about. He is not so readily available, so I would take advantage of the opportunity whilst it presents itself.'
With a sigh, he looked towards Amelia, and his mind was made up quickly.
Nodding, he eased his arm from around her shoulders and allowed her to fall onto the pillow he hastily conjured. Covering her with a blanket, he tucked an errant lock of hair behind her ear.
If it pertained to anything else other than Amelia, he would not even be tempted to leave her here and venture out at this ungodly hour.
Albus, however, had evidently gone to much trouble to help him, and it would be a poor way to repay the man by being so dismissive of it.
Besides, this wasn't for his own gain.
No, this was all for Amelia, and she deserved the justice she sought for herself and her family.
Casting a sobering charm on himself and freshening his breath, he gave the sleeping woman a final look as he threw a handful of floo powder into the fireplace.
"Hogwarts, headmaster's office," he murmured.
He stepped into the flames as they turned green and braced himself for his arrival.
Much to his relief, he'd gotten much more proficient at stepping out on the other side, and as he did so, the sight that greeted him was of two men, one being Dumbledore and the other a robed figure, his face shrouded by a large hood.
"Thank you for coming so quickly, Harry," the former offered. "This gentleman has agreed to a meeting with you."
Harry felt the gaze of the man shift towards him, and he paused as though he was eyeing him curiously.
"Does the name Evans mean anything to you?" he asked.
Harry was taken aback by the question, but he did not allow it to show.
"Should it?" he returned.
The man shook his head.
"Not necessarily," he said dismissively. "You simply remind me of someone I knew, but no, you couldn't be him. He was around your age some twenty years ago. Anyway, Mr Jameson, I understand it was you who managed to apprehend Fenrir Greyback, despite another taking credit."
Harry looked towards Dumbledore, who nodded, urging him to be truthful.
"Amelia made the arrest," Harry replied, "but I did track him down and neutralise the threat of his pack."
"Impressive," the man replied thoughtfully. "My very best had been tracking him for some years, and none had come close to capturing him. It is quite the feat that you managed it."
"Harry is an exceptional wizard," Albus interjected.
"That remains to be seen," the man returned evenly. "Well, Mr Jameson, I understand you have a vested interest in the murder of the former Lord and Lady Bones. Is this a personal undertaking?"
"In some ways," Harry answered honestly. "From what I have already learned, which is very little, the entire affair reeks of corruption, and it is far from over. An attempt was recently made on Amelia's life, and though on the surface it seemed to be linked to her arrest of Greyback, I believe otherwise."
"Is that so?"
Harry nodded.
"Those who attacked her were Eastern European, and none of them were a part of Greyback's pack. All of them are accounted for, and Amelia admitted she had been making enquiries with the Ministries involved in the investigation. It seems to me that someone wants to silence her the same way they did her parents."
The man hummed as he continued to gaze at Harry.
"That is a rather perceptive mind you have, Mr Jameson. You have already demonstrated that you are an expert in the Mind Arts, and you have me curious. However, if you want my assistance with your investigation, then you will do something for me."
"What do you want?" Harry asked cautiously.
"The day after tomorrow, you will activate this portkey," he explained, placing a metal shield on Dumbledore's desk. "It will bring you to an undisclosed location. If you pass my test and agree to my terms, you will have my help."
"And if I refuse or fail?"
"Then you get nothing, Mr Jameson," the man answered simply. "If I were you, I would accept. This could prove to be beneficial for both of us. Until we meet again, Mr Jameson."
The man made his way towards and paused as he looked towards Harry a final time.
"You didn't even introduce yourself," Harry pointed out.
He could almost feel the man smiling at him from beneath the hood.
"For now, you may refer to me as Ghost, Mr Jameson."
With that, he vanished, and Harry turned towards Dumbledore, who released a deep sigh.
"Is this legit?"
Albus nodded severely.
"Who was that man?"
"He is the Head of the Department of Justice for the ICW, Harry. It seems as though he is quite keen to recruit you."