Chapter 23
It was the thirst from her parched mouth that woke her, and the smell and taste of stale alcohol assaulted her senses as her eyes fluttered open, only to snap shut from the headache the light induced.
Amelia stretched, wracking her brain for how she'd ended up in such a drunken state.
She wasn't one to take to drink to deal with her problems, but she had the previous night, and whatever it was she had indulged in had certainly left its mark.
She stilled as a wave of memories came to her.
She'd come to visit Jameson, though that didn't explain why she was asleep on his sofa rather than in her bed.
Amelia remembered taking her first drink, followed by another.
The conversation they'd had was hazy, but she had asked him to dance with her.
She groaned internally at the memory of her holding onto him to stop herself from falling over, and horror followed as another came to the forefront of her mind.
"Coffee?" Jameson's amused voice questioned.
"Could you just kill me instead?"
He laughed.
"I did consider it."
Amelia opened one eye and glared at the man.
"Do you remember when I said that you walking in on me after my shower was the most embarrassing moment of my life?"
"Vividly."
"I think this has it beat."
He laughed again, and Amelia joined in, plucking up the courage to sit up and accept the offered mug of coffee.
"Merlin, I feel rough," she grumbled.
"What do you expect after drinking as much as you did?"
"You don't seem so bad?"
"I drank water before bed," Jameson explained.
Amelia released a deep breath and took a sip of her drink.
"I can't even look at you," she sighed. "Did I really…?"
"Did you what?" Jameson asked confusedly.
"Don't you remember?"
"Well, that depends on what it is I should be remembering."
"Jameson, don't play games with me and give me hope that I dreamed the whole thing."
He took pity on her and nodded.
"I remember."
Amelia leaned back on the sofa and looked towards the ceiling.
"Well, shit," she cursed.
"That is one way of putting it," Jameson replied.
Amelia frowned as she looked at him.
"Was it really that bad?"
He shook his head.
"No, not at all."
Amelia looked away again to hide her blush.
She remembered everything she felt in that moment: the fear, the excitement, the desire, and the need for him.
It wasn't just a passing fancy that would fizzle out, even if she had tried to convince herself otherwise or even outright deny what she felt for the man before her.
He'd felt it too, well, she hoped.
Jameson was too nice to make a fool of her in such a way, and Amelia found herself hoping further that he hadn't kissed her just to spare her feelings and blushes.
"I'm really not good at this," she huffed.
"You seemed fine last night," Jameson returned.
Amelia shot him a look of exasperation.
"It seemed like a good idea at the time."
"So, it wasn't?"
"No, yes. I don't know. You tell me."
She felt nervous again, and though she did her best to hide it, Amelia knew she wasn't doing a very good job.
"What's worrying you about it?" he pressed gently.
Amelia shrugged.
"That I made an idiot out of myself and that you didn't want what happened," she answered, not looking at him.
"Have I ever given the impression I would let something happen that I didn't want to?"
"No."
"Shouldn't that ease your worries then?"
"I suppose so," Amelia answered. "I mean, that happened, and we just kind of sat down and fell asleep."
"That's about it," Harry chuckled.
Amelia could only shake her head.
She couldn't believe that even in a drunken state, she'd done what she had, though she could not deny her thoughts and feelings on the matter.
It wasn't as though she'd fantasised about kissing Jameson, well, the thought may have entered her mind once or twice, but to act on such an uninhibited impulse was unlike her.
Nonetheless, she remembered every second of it: the nervousness, the softness of his lips, and just how easy it had felt to fall into him. With it had come an ignited passion, that sense of need she'd never experienced, and as she thought about it, those very feelings and desires flared once more.
"I don't know what to say."
"Why don't you finish your coffee and take a shower," Jameson suggested. "Maybe that will help clear your head."
Amelia nodded and handed him her empty coffee cup, pausing as she caught the faint aroma of his scent.
"What is it?" he asked.
"Nothing," Amelia answered as she left the room, chastising herself for her lapse in concentration.
Closing the door to her room behind her, she idly considered climbing out of the window and never coming back, but she knew she couldn't do that.
She'd instigated whatever had happened between them the night before, and she needed to deal with it.
How she would do that, she didn't know, but as she turned the shower on and began undressing, she allowed herself to ponder it without thoughts of denying herself what she may just want.
Amelia had enjoyed the kiss, more so than any other she'd experienced, and even though she perhaps should, she didn't regret it.
She wished she'd have been sober when she'd initiated it, but she knew she'd never have been brave enough to do so.
She bit her lower as she relieved the moment they'd shared, and she shook her head.
Was she blinded by lust, or was it much more than that?
Thinking of Jameson, she already knew the answer.
That stupid grin he offered when he was being mischievous, how he looked out for her, and how he'd opened up his home so that she always had somewhere to go whenever she felt like getting away…
All of those things warmed her, and yet, he had that strong, silent prowess about him that she equally admired.
He was a fool at times, making jokes and doing silly, boyish things, but she liked that too.
More than any of those things, however, was that somehow, despite everything he'd been through, he was one of the kindest and most caring people she'd ever met.
It certainly helped that he was easy on the eyes and could make her smile, no matter how bad her mood was.
Amelia released a deep breath as she finished showering and began drying herself off.
She liked Jameson more than just as an acquaintance, and maybe, just maybe, her feelings went beyond simply taking a fancy to him.
What that meant moving forward, she didn't know, but given what she'd done and how she could no longer deny it, even to herself, things had changed for her.
Maybe she had been living in a state of denial.
What had become clear, however, was that now she had taken a step she never thought she would, she didn't want to undo what had happened.
Did Jameson feel the same?
Amelia had kissed him after all, and neither of them had said much after.
Dressing in some clean clothes she always ensured were here, she returned to the kitchen where the man was reading The Daily Prophet.
"Anything of interest?" Amelia asked.
"If you find the Wizengamot discussing a standard thickness of cauldron bottoms interesting, it's riveting."
"I can't say that I do," Amelia replied as she took a seat next to him.
Without saying a word, he removed the sports section and slid it towards her.
Although Amelia didn't have the chance to attend the Quidditch games outside of being an Auror very often, she was still an avid fan of the sport and liked to keep abreast of what was happening.
"Thank you," she offered appreciatively.
"Feel better?" Jameson asked.
"Physically, yes."
She could feel him smirking from behind the newspaper.
"Something to say, Jameson?"
"No," he denied. "Do you?"
Amelia narrowed her eyes at the newspaper before swiping it away.
"Can't you even look at me anymore?" she asked.
He met her gaze, and Amelia immediately felt the urge to kiss him rise again.
"You're blushing, Auror Bones," Jameson teased.
"You make me blush, and I'm not sure whether I like it or not."
"I think last night answers that, don't you?"
Amelia nodded as she poured herself another coffee.
"Was it so unpleasant?" she asked casually.
"No, but it took me by surprise," Jameson admitted, folding up the newspaper. "Honestly, I've never experienced anything like that."
"You expect me to believe you've never kissed a woman?"
"I've kissed more than my fair share, but none of them have been like that."
"I'm sure most of them were drunk when they kissed you, Jameson."
"True," he conceded, "but they still lacked whatever last night was."
"What do you mean?" Amelia asked shyly.
Jameson shrugged.
"Make of it what you will."
"You're so frustrating!" Amelia huffed. "Can you not just give me a straight answer?"
Jameson nodded thoughtfully.
"Fine," he agreed. "I've never experienced anything like that. It wasn't just a drunken, lust-filled kiss that meant nothing. It felt like you kissed me because you really wanted to, not just because it was in the heat of a fleeting moment. Better?"
Amelia nodded, surprised by the frank response and that Jameson seemed to be almost as nervous as her discussing it.
It was rather endearing seeing his confidence waver, and Amelia wondered why he would be so nervous about such things.
He was always so self-assured with everything. It seemed she found something he was not so certain with.
"I may have thought about it before last night," she admitted. "I meant what I said. I don't think I ever would've been able to say anything if I hadn't drunk half a bottle of whiskey."
"Why not?"
"Are you really going to make me answer that?"
"I am," Jameson replied with a teasing grin.
"Fine," Amelia sighed. "Because you're so different to me. You're so organised, brilliant, and frustrating. I don't know. I look at you, and I see this aloof, easy-going, and unshakeable man that I really admire."
Jameson positively beamed at her, though it lacked any of the usual cockiness or mocking.
"Is that what you really think?" he asked.
Amelia nodded, and he laughed.
"You've been fortunate enough to see the very best of me," he continued, his demeanour sobering. "I have fumbled my way through life, for the most part, and I'm certainly not unshakeable. Things get to me as they do anyone else. The difference between us is that I never had anyone to turn to. I was never allowed to be weak, and even though there have been times I thought it would be easier if I were killed, there is something inside me that would never allow me to quit. Call it stubbornness or whatever you like, but I have been at the very bottom. I had to claw my way back."
It truly was odd to hear him speak with such rawness, to get a glimpse of the vulnerabilities he had overcome.
"I know," Amelia answered quietly. "You've told me about your nightmares and reliving what happened to your parents. You told me about spending so much of your life fighting against the man who murdered them. I never thought for one moment that it was easy for you or that you just got on with it without overcoming adversity. You became what you are in every way because of everything you endured. That's one of the reasons I admire you, Harry. You persevered, and you didn't let any of that beat you."
He nodded.
"Well, that certainly got deep," he chuckled. "I'm sure I have another bottle of whiskey here somewhere," he added amusedly.
"Don't," Amelia groaned. "Just the smell of it will make me throw up."
She could see that Jameson had become rather uncomfortable talking about himself.
He never really took praise well, even when it was given sincerely.
Perhaps there was a reason for it, but it was not something he'd mentioned to her.
"Do you regret it?" Amelia asked, nursing her cup of coffee.
"The kiss?"
Amelia nodded, and Jameson shook his head.
"No, but doesn't that make things complicated?"
"Does it have to?" Amelia returned. "It was a kiss. I'm not going to lie and say that I regret it, and honestly, I'll be more than a little disappointed if it doesn't happen again. I've already been lying and tried to convince myself there was nothing between us, but there is, isn't there?"
"There is," Jameson agreed.
"So, what's your excuse?" Amelia pressed. "Why didn't you, well, you know?"
"There's a few reasons," Jameson said with a frown. "I suppose the obvious is that you're a pureblood. I'm not insinuating that you or your family are prejudiced in any way, but when it comes to relationships, I know most purebloods don't approve of relationships outside of their own little circle."
"That is true," Amelia conceded. "For Edgar, he knew he had to keep up the tradition, but it is not the same for me. I'm not in the direct line of succession. If Edgar doesn't have children, the Lordship will pass to Chris or his children."
Jameson nodded.
"Does it bother you that I'm an Auror?"
"Why would that bother me?"
"It puts most people off," Amelia sighed. "Being an Auror is seen as a man's job by most."
"No, that doesn't bother me," Jameson assured her with a chuckle. "I respect what you do."
"So, it was just the pureblood thing?"
"Not just that," Jameson answered. "You're a very serious person, most of the time. You're not easy to read, and that can be quite intimidating, I suppose. I thought you were not interested in the opposite sex or that you were just focusing on your career."
"You're not wrong," Amelia replied. "I have been focused on my career. I still am, and I haven't really been interested in anyone. I work long, difficult hours, and it's not been a priority."
Jameson nodded his understanding.
"What are your plans for today?" he asked curiously.
"I haven't thought that far ahead. You?"
"Me either," he replied, stepping around the counter and reaching for her cup.
Amelia's hand instinctively closed around his as he did so, and she made the mistake of looking up at him.
With him being so close, she could no longer ignore the very same urge from the night prior.
She didn't know who initiated it, but before she could comprehend what was happening, her arms were wrapped around his neck once more, and their lips pressed together in a searing kiss.
It felt so natural, so simple, and yet, it was so deeply passionate and intense that it almost overwhelmed her senses.
"Well, that's not a bad start to it," she murmured when they broke apart.
"No, it's not," Jameson agreed.
(Break)
"You seemed to recognise him," Albus pointed out. "He was familiar to you."
Ghost nodded.
"Do you remember during the earlier years of the Grindelwald conflict, there was a lot of whispering of a man who was causing the Dark Lord all manner of problems?"
"I do."
"That man was Harry Evans, known to the rest of the world as The Serpent."
"The Serpent," Albus whispered.
It was a moniker he'd not heard in some two decades.
He'd been a Hit-Wizard in the thirties and early forties. The Serpent had garnered quite a reputation for himself for being incredibly gifted and had even been commended by the ICW for his efforts.
"If this Jameson were not so young, I would've sworn it was him who came in here," Ghost spoke once more, pulling Albus from his thoughts. "It may be more than twenty years since I last saw him, but the resemblance is uncanny."
"Why did Evans vanish?"
Ghost shrugged.
"Nobody knows," he sighed. "When the department was decimated, he never reported in, but his remains were never found. Fox believed him to be dead, but I don't think so. Evans would not have been caught out like the others. I suppose he took the chance to get out of the game. Maybe he discovered his lover was pregnant and didn't want his child raised with hi living as he was."
"You think that Harry is his son?"
"I don't know," Ghost said thoughtfully. "He certainly looks like him. It's like looking into the past, Albus. You say he's talented. How talented is he?"
"He tracked and captured Greyback, all without killing a single werewolf in the pack," Albus answered. "He even saved the life of an Auror from a dire situation and did so rather quickly and efficiently against multiple assailants. He's exceptional and lives up to your namesake. He can even get into the castle without being detected."
"Is that so?" Ghost asked interestedly. "Well, I suppose I will see for myself."
"Are you going to recruit him?"
"That remains to be seen," Ghost answered dismissively as he stood. "You know the nature of the department, Albus. Even if I wanted to tell you, I can't. Good evening to you."
With that, the mysterious man had vanished, and Albus had spent many of the next waking hours pondering the conversation.
Ghost seemed somewhat certain that Harry Jameson was connected to Harry Evans, and Albus couldn't refute the claim.
The man had simply appeared and made quite the name for himself.
Still, the headmaster felt guilty for using Ghost in his attempt to learn more about his former professor, a position he hoped Harry would soon reclaim.
Nonetheless, Albus was curious about Harry and where he'd come from.
He was an enigmatic man and one of few words. Even more so, he was very private, and though Albus didn't suspect he was involved in anything nefarious, he still remained something of a mystery he wished to solve.
Maybe Ghost would have something new to tell him after he'd met with Harry again, but Albus doubted it.
Ghost had reminded him of the nature of the department he headed, and it was unlikely that he would hear from the man again outside of his capacity as the Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Warlocks.
(Break)
"Didn't you have a day off today?" Jenny asked as Amelia entered the examination room.
"I did."
"Then what are you doing here, and at almost midnight?"
Amelia shrugged as she perched herself on the edge of one of the several tables.
"You're smiling," Jenny said suspiciously.
"Are you saying I never smile?"
"Not like that. Come on, Bones, out with it."
"Out with what?"
Jenny narrowed her eyes at her.
"I have a room full of sharp objects here, and I have been working for almost sixteen hours. Unless you want to find some of these instruments inserted into various parts of your anatomy, I would start talking if I were you."
Amelia said nothing, and despite her best efforts, she couldn't prevent herself from smiling.
"Fine, have it your way," Jenny huffed. "Let's start with the obvious, shall we? You had a day off. You're a workaholic, Bones, but even you don't visit me here on your days off."
"True."
"You have a stupid smile, which means you had a good day."
"I did."
"And the only person who makes you smile like that is a certain bachelor by the name of Jameson."
"How has your day been?" Amelia asked.
"So, you don't deny it," Jenny said triumphantly.
"I'm not saying anything."
Jenny scowled at her.
"Listen to me, Bones, if you came here to gloat and not tell me what you're gloating about, I will not be happy."
Amelia deflated and took pity on the woman.
"I may have done something stupid last night."
"And you're grinning like an idiot?"
"Well, it could have been stupid, but it turned out to be good, I think."
Jenny huffed, and Amelia held her hands up placatingly.
"It was the anniversary yesterday, and I may have gotten very drunk."
"Never," Jenny gasped dramatically, clutching her chest.
"Shut up," Amelia groaned. "It's what I did when I was drunk."
Jenny looked at her pointedly and waited for Amelia to speak.
"I kissed Harry."
"Jameson?" Jenny gasped again, this time without the additional dramatics. "You really kissed him?"
Amelia nodded.
"I'm just as surprised as you are," she admitted. "I don't know what the hell I was thinking."
"Well, I'm assuming he didn't throw up."
"No, he did not throw up!"
Jenny grinned amusedly.
"How was it?"
Amelia shook her head.
"I honestly don't even know how to describe it," she replied. "We were dancing, and then it just happened, and again this morning. I spent the day with him."
"Doing what?" Jenny asked accusingly.
"Not what you are thinking," Amelia sighed. "Get your head out of the gutter. We just spent time with the creatures, we had lunch and dinner and just spent time together. It was just…"
"Just?"
"It felt so right."
Jenny offered her a sincere smile.
"You finally admitted to yourself that you liked him? I did try to tell you, but you're either ignorant or stupid."
"Probably both," Amelia said with a shrug. "Anyway, I don't know why, but I had to tell someone."
"Well, I'm happy for you," Jenny assured her. "I don't think I've ever seen you smile like this, but I am wondering why you are here and not with him?"
"I have an early start, and so does Harry."
"So, it's Harry now, is it?"
"It feels strange calling him Jameson…"
Given your new-found intimacy?"
"I knew I shouldn't have told you," Amelia muttered.
"I'm only teasing you, Bones," Jenny replied, giving her hand a squeeze. "I'm happy for you, surprised, but happy. So, what now? Are you dating?"
"I don't know," Amelia answered with a frown. "We didn't really say much about what happens next."
"But you want to date him?"
Amelia nodded.
"I really like him, Jen. I didn't realise how much until I couldn't ignore it anymore."
"I did tell you," Jenny pointed out. "For the better part of two years, I've been telling you."
"I know, and now you get to be smug about it."
"Oh, I'll never let you live it down. So, when are you going to see him next?"
Amelia shrugged.
"I don't know."
"Bloody hell, that must've been some kiss if it's made you both so stupid," she chided lightly. "Are you just going to go on as you did? You know, just show up at his place whenever you like."
"Maybe," Amelia answered. "I'm not sure."
"Then maybe the two of you should talk about it instead of trying to eat each other's faces."
Amelia shot her a glare and fought the blush that formed on her cheeks.
"I suppose we should," she agreed.
Jenny nodded.
"So, was it just kissing?" she asked with a smirk.
Amelia merely rolled her eyes in response to her friend.
Jenny would be getting no more out of her than she'd already told.
(Break)
He eyed the portkey resting on the counter in front of him.
Although being with Amelia had somewhat distracted from the dilemma he faced, Harry had scarcely been able to forget about the metal shield resting in his pocket.
If what this could lead to wasn't so important to him or the redheaded Auror, he wouldn't even entertain accepting the invitation by the ominous man.
'Does the name Evans mean anything to you?'
Of course, he'd denied it, but how had the man made such a connection?
It was unsettling, to say the least, though Harry knew if he wanted answers to that and anything to do with what happened to Amelia's parents, he had no other choice but to activate the portkey.
He shook his head as he reached for it, pausing only a few inches away.
Just when he felt he was finally getting some balance in his life, yet again, something unexpected came along to offset it.
He'd been content running the duelling club, knowing that Thomas was running the restaurant successfully and that the werewolves were managing the farm.
He'd felt, albeit too briefly, that he'd accomplished something of the peace he sought, and now, it seemed as though he would be throwing himself into something else that would bring only more chaos.
If it wasn't for Amelia, he could discard the metal shield and never look back, but if there were even a glimmer of hope that it would give Harry what he needed to bring the woman the peace she deserved, he would not squander it.
Steeling himself for whatever was to come, he released a deep breath and activated the portkey with a tap of his wand, ready to defend himself is necessary.
It proved not to be.
He found himself in an office of sorts. The décor was rather pedestrian in nature, simple but clean, and complete with an oak desk, where the same hooded man was waiting for him.
"Thank you for joining me, Mr Jameson," he greeted Harry cordially. "Please, take a seat."
Harry did so and noticed the thin folder resting between the two of them.
"We pride ourselves on our meticulous vetting, Mr Jameson," the man spoke once more, tapping the folder with his forefinger. "Imagine my surprise when there was so little to discover about you. No record of birth, no country of origin, not even a medical file. There is no listed establishment of education, but some very impressive examination scores. That is all."
Harry nodded, and he felt the man smirk from beneath his hood.
"Do not mistake my curiosity for disappointment, Mr Jameson. The nature of my job and those within my department relies on the utmost secrecy. Although yours is an unusual existence, to say the least, it is not an issue. Now, it says here that you are a restaurant owner and that you own considerable land in Canada."
Harry was surprised that the man had discovered that information.
"Your personal affairs are none of my concern, Mr Jameson, so long as they do not impact your capabilities," the man said dismissively. "You also taught Defence Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where you continue to host a duelling club. For one so young, that is rather impressive. Albus is not a man who speaks highly of those who do not deserve it."
Harry nodded.
"Is there anything I am missing?"
"I expect so," Harry replied cautiously.
The man chuckled.
"I do not doubt it," he replied. "I have already established you are an expert in the Mind Arts. That will serve you well. Now, to the reason you are here."
"Dumbledore said you seemed keen to recruit me."
The man nodded.
"Perhaps," he replied. "That solely depends on how you perform today. What you are asking of me is not negligible. If I am to help you, it could result in severe complications in international relations. If you wish for me to be frank with you, Mr Jameson, I will do so."
"I would appreciate that."
"Then frankness is what you shall have after you have completed the tasks I have set for you. To begin with, Mr Jameson, I'd like you to tell me what you can about this room."
Ghost, as he'd introduced himself in Dumbledore's office, waited.
Harry nodded.
"The desk was originally a lighter brown, the chair you are sitting on is not really a chair. It is a stool that you have transfigured. The charms on your robes change your voice and have four other spells to conceal your identity, prevent it from being removed by anyone other than yourself, regulate your temperature, and is lined with demiguise hair, allowing you to become invisible for short periods of time of need. You have used it only once in the last year. Your boots are German-made and are imbued with magic to silence your steps and leave no prints behind. You are carrying two wands, one up your right sleeve and one holstered on your left ankle. Oh, and there is a woman standing in the corner under an invisibility cloak, pointing her wand at me. She has used scent-masking charms to hide her presence."
The man chuckled once more and leaned back in his chair.
"How very perceptive, and all without casting a single detection spell," he commented. "Before we move on, I will require you to sign this," he added, sliding a sheet of parchment towards Harry. Please, take your time to read it."
Harry did so and found it to be a simple contract that prevented him from discussing anything he saw within the department, and subject to an offer of employment, he would be unable to speak of his work but could inform a spouse of his position.
Checking it meticulously, there was no hidden magic concealed within the document. And though it was with reluctance, he signed it, reminding himself of why he was here.
"Thank you, Mr Jameson," Ghost offered appreciatively. "If you would kindly come with me."
Harry followed the man from a room into an unassuming corridor and through another door, where he found himself in what appeared to be an empty room, save for a podium in the very centre.
Sat atop it was a porcelain figure.
"All you have to do is retrieve it," Ghost instructed.
With a nod of understanding, Harry drew his wand and closed his eyes, feeling for the different magicks present within the room.
He identified several traps designed to catch him out and some very subtle charms that would make him forget why he was here.
Those were the least concerning.
In each corner of the room was a person waiting to attack him when he triggered certain spells within the room, and there was no clear path to the podium. On the very surface, it was a complex labyrinth of magic he was supposed to navigate, but for Harry, there was a much simpler solution to the problem laid before him.
It would be dangerous to attempt to untangle the confusing web, but he didn't need to.
There was only one spell he needed to negate, and it was one he wished he had knowledge of several years prior when it would've been invaluable.
Ensuring the spell was not connected to anything less pleasant, he waved his wand in a deceptively intricate pattern, rendering the magic obsolete, before simply summoning the figure into his outstretched hand.
"You would be surprised how many fall at this hurdle," Ghost murmured. "Those who wish to join us either overcomplicate the solution in their mind or try a more visually impressive display. Simplicity is often the key, Mr Jameson. Why overcomplicate something unnecessarily?"
Harry nodded his agreement.
"That concludes the tasks set for you," Ghost informed him. "It gives me great pleasure to inform you that you have performed admirably. Please, follow me, and we can discuss just how we can help each other moving forward."
Once more, Harry complied and was led back to the office he'd arrived in, where Ghost gestured for him to retake his seat.
The woman who had been present previously no longer was.
"You wished to have a frank discussion, and I will grant you that, Mr Jameson," Ghost sighed. "This department operates under the authority of the ICW. Think of us as an agency similar to a regular Auror department, only ours is comprised of particularly talented people who undertake the most difficult aspects of law enforcement. Do you follow?"
"I do."
Ghost nodded.
"Much of what we do involves bringing the most unpleasant international criminals to justice, those whom local Auror departments are having a difficult time apprehending, and those who are of a particular threat to national and international security. We operate in secrecy to protect the identities of our agents, mostly due to the nature of those we target. They are the most dangerous of groups and individuals."
Harry nodded his understanding.
"I am sure you are aware of Grindelwald's uprising some two decades ago," Ghost continued. "During the conflict, a severe breach of our security occurred. Grindelwald took it upon himself to eliminate all but three of our agents; myself, Fox, the woman who was present here, and one other. The rest, along with their families, were murdered in cold blood. They came for me here, but fortunately, Fox managed to notify me of her own escape, and I followed suit. Ever since, we have been doing all we can to build the department back to what it was. We lost many exceptional witches and wizards that night, Mr Jameson, and adding someone of your calibre to our ranks would be most useful."
"And you won't help me unless I agree?"
Ghost nodded.
"Mostly because of protocol. If it is discovered that I gave you access to a highly restricted file and you are not an official part of the department, losing my job would be the least of my worries. Besides, I understand that you have your other commitments, and in a way, those would be beneficial in providing you with plausible deniability should the worst happen. We take our security very seriously, Mr Jameson, but one can never be fully assured that a breach is impossible. I am not proposing you dedicate yourself full-time to the department, but on a basis in which we would call upon you when needed. This would be a most practical agreement for us both, I believe."
Harry nodded thoughtfully.
He needed access to the file, and it wasn't as though he wasn't experienced in such matters as Ghost had described.
"I'll do it," he agreed.
"I am so very pleased we have reached an accord, Mr Jameson," Ghost replied as he removed a roll of parchment. "This is little more than an extension of the document you already signed, but with it, a section for me to sign to ensure your continued anonymity. It is an agreement between the two of us that neither can disclose information to a third party that could put the other at risk. Yours stretches to the security of the department, those who work for it, and any information learned from within. Mine ensures that I cannot identify you by name, by appearance, or in any other manner without your permission to any outside the department."
Ghost signed the document without hesitation and handed it to Harry, who perused it before doing so.
"Welcome aboard, Mr Jameson," Ghost offered, extending his hand.
Harry accepted it, already questioning whether he'd made a mistake.
"So, what happens now?" he asked.
"Now, I can give you this with a clear conscience, though I urge you to be very careful. You could well find yourself involved in something you wished you never disturbed."
He produced a file from the top drawer of his desk and gave it to Harry, who pocketed it.
"I will be in touch, Mr Jameson," Ghost spoke once more. "In the meantime, I suggest you come up with an alias. We do not deal with civilian names here."
Harry nodded as he stood, though he paused as he reached the door.
"You mentioned that Grindelwald wiped out all but three of you."
"I did."
"The third person was Harry Evans, the man that you mentioned, wasn't it?"
"Indeed," Ghost confirmed. "I must say, the resemblance between the two of you is quite uncanny."
"Interesting," Harry murmured to himself as he took his leave of the office.
The man Ghost was referring to could not be related to him; of that, he was certain.
On his mother's side, Lily and Petunia had been the only children, and their father had been the only child born to his own parents.
If this Harry Evans was somehow connected to him, Harry could not fathom how.
It would make more sense if, somewhere along the line, he'd been sent further back to when Grindelwald was conducting his war, and the man Ghost had known was Harry.
If that was true, and given what Harry himself had experienced, whatever had happened to Harry Evans?