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SIYE Time:9:31 on 28th March 2024
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Aurors and Schoolgirls
By Northumbrian

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Category: Post-Hogwarts, Post-DH/AB
Characters:Harry/Ginny
Genres: Drama, Romance
Warnings: Mild Language
Rating: PG
Reviews: 151
Summary:
The Wizarding War is over.

For some Auror training has begun; their lives are centred round London, and the Ministry of Magic. For others, there is the inevitable return to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry; their lives are centred around schooling in Scotland. Do these parted pairings, these divided duos, have different destinations and divergent destinies? When, where, and how can these separated souls meet? Holidays, Hogsmeade and Quidditch.

Hitcount: Story Total: 89054; Chapter Total: 6476





Author's Notes:
Thanks to AmelĂ­e and Andrea for their comments, corrections and input. Please review. Constructive criticism is always gratefully received.




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10. Grimmauld Place: Explanations

‘Sorry I’m late,’ muttered Ron apologetically as he hurried into the dark oak-panelled dining room on the ground floor of 12 Grimmauld Place. ‘I called in to see George, to go through the books with him again. It took longer than I expected.’

Ron looked at the four people sitting around the long, dark oak table; they were already eating. The table was much too large for the five places set. His fellow trainees were huddled at the end nearest to the only window.

It was late, and it was dark outside. It had been dark when Ron was released from duty, at six o’clock, more than two hours ago. It had been dark when they’d reported for duty at six this morning, too. Ron had seen little daylight, he’d been indoors most of the day.

The light from the chandeliers appeared to be being sucked into the darkness of the walls. Despite Kreacher’s best efforts, the room remained dingy. Ron shivered and hoped that this room would be the next to be redecorated.

The dining chairs were also dark oak. The two dozen chairs around the table were solid, cumbersome and high-backed. Above them he could see the backs of two heads. The flaxen hair, tied in a tight bun, belonged to Susan Bones and the cropped dark brown hair belonged to Neville.

Harry sat next to Neville, at the head of the table, the curtained window behind him. He looked up and smiled as Ron scurried around to the vacant place. Ron’s seat was next to Harry and opposite Neville. In the seat next to Ron, a head of close cropped brown hair lifted momentarily. The burly, plain featured and jug-eared young man, Terry Boot, acknowledged Ron’s arrival with a nod then went back to the serious business of eating.

Opposite Terry, dimple-chinned Susan had followed Ron’s hasty entrance with her piercing blue eyes.

‘Better hurry, Ron,’ she advised. ‘It’s Kreacher’s vegetable broth and Terry’s on his third helping.’

‘Fourth,’ corrected Neville. ‘There’s not much left.’

‘How much is not much?’ Ron panicked. He looked at their faces. They were teasing him, he knew, but he’d had nothing other than a hastily snatched ham sandwich since breakfast. He was starving.

‘Don’t worry mate,’ Harry told him, ‘I wouldn’t let them start without you.’

‘Start?’ Ron asked as he peered anxiously into the tureen, ‘It looks like you’ve almost finished.’

Everyone laughed at him.

‘We haven’t started anything important, Ron. Our guests are here to discuss today’s missions; remember?’ said Harry.

Ron ladled the steaming broth into his bowl, grabbed the remaining four crusty rolls and piled them on his side plate.

‘I’m starving,’ replied Ron unnecessarily. He broke a bread roll in half and cramming the largest part into his mouth while slurping the broth.

‘You always are, Ron. But don’t worry, there’s steak au poivre, chips and salad for the main course,’ Harry continued, ‘Why don’t you start, Terry? It will give Ron a chance to catch up with the food. I know from long experience that he doesn’t operate well on an empty stomach.’

‘Okay,’ Terry began; his voice a deep bass rumble. ‘Edmund Byers was in charge of my team, at least in theory,’

‘The potions expert?’ asked Neville.

Terry nodded, ‘He’s apparently brilliant in the laboratory, but I can see why Mister Robards likes to keep him there. He was pretty ineffectual in the field. We were outside Rowle’s place about an hour before dawn. I assume that you were all in position then, too.’

Everyone nodded.

‘I was with Byers, Ottilia Ball, Polly Protheroe and a couple of Hit Wizards. We used the standard approach and enter technique that Auror Fergus has been drilling into us for weeks.’ Terry paused and watched his fellow students smiling, Fiona Fergus liked rote-learning.

‘On approach, check the area for alarm spells,’ Terry began the chant.

‘When satisfied, cast an anti-apparition jinx over the area,’ Susan parroted.

‘Approach the target cautiously, continually detecting for dark magic,’ Neville added.

‘En’er kick’ly ‘n ‘nounce y’r ‘den’ty,’ mumbled Ron through a mouthful of broth, while Susan watched in disgust.

‘Rapidly secure the area using maximum force,’ Harry finished, smiling. ‘I expect that we all did the whole operation strictly by the book.’ His dinner companions all nodded.

‘We entered quickly, all right,’ Terry continued. ‘Ball blew out the door, and a good chunk of the wall, with the Reductor Curse. I’m glad that I was standing a long way behind her.’

Ron looked up and saw Harry lean forward, mouth half-open, obviously waiting for an opportunity to interrupt. He’d want to know about the Reductor Curse. Terry noticed, too. The burly trainee paused, looked at Harry and smiled.

‘I asked Ball about her Reductor Curse,’ Terry told them. ‘She uses a final wand-flick to increase the power. She said that it’s a trick she learned from old Mad-Eye during training. She agreed to show us how it’s done next weekend.’ There were murmurs of approval from around the table.

‘Byers announced our presence,’ Terry continued. ‘No one answered and he dithered, so Polly Protheroe took over.’

‘She’s the one who shaves the sides of her head and dyes her hair black, isn’t she?’ Susan observed. ‘She looks rather scary. But she’s not that much older than us.’

‘She’s got a blackbird tattooed inside her left ear, too,’ Terry observed.

‘She’s the same age as Tonks, they trained together,’ Harry supplied. Everyone turned to look at him and listened with interest as Harry continued. They always did, Ron knew, everyone did. Even the senior Aurors stopped and listened if Harry decided to speak. Ron listened to his friend, too, but didn’t stop eating; he had a lot of catching up to do.

‘We were alone in the office together a couple of weeks ago and she asked me if I wanted a cuppa. She knew I was Teddy’s godfather and we got talking,’ Harry explained.

‘The tattoo inside her ear is a raven, not a blackbird, Terry.’ Harry smiled wryly. ‘You should’ve known that, she’s one of your lot. She’s got a Raven’s claw on her left shoulder blade to prove it. And a dragon, a Hibernian Black, all the way up her right arm.’

Ron hastily swallowed his broth. ‘Did she ask if you fancied going to the pub later, or did she offer to show you her other tattoos?’ he teased Harry.

‘We just chatted, Ron, that’s all,’ said Harry, smiling.

‘She’s good, imposing,’ Terry continued his story, ‘There was only one person in the house, Einar Rowle. Protheroe located him. She told the two hit wizards to cover the door and we followed Rowle. He had disillusioned himself, but Protheroe didn’t let on that we knew where he was. She decided that he probably knew what we were after, so she ordered us to keep back. She used the Invisibility Revealer to keep track of him and realised that he was heading for the cellar. She was slick. We stayed on the ground floor, almost directly above him. When he stopped moving Protheroe guessed that he’d reached his files, so Ball blew out the floor and we stunned him. There was really no need for the stunning spells; the blast had already knocked him flat.’

‘Anyway, we found the list of names,’ Terry went on. ‘There were over eighty Muggle-borns on it. Byers brought Rowle round and told him what we knew. He tried to bargain with us, but Protheroe just laughed and told him that she was Muggle-born, that some of the names on the list were friends of hers, and that if he knew where any of them were, he’d better tell us. He did. We found ten of them locked in a barn, all wandless. He’d been using them as farm labourers. They were terrified when we broke in, he’d told them that…’

‘That Harry was dead and Voldemort had won, right?’ Neville interrupted grimly. ‘That he was keeping them safe from the Death Eaters who were rampaging across the country and slaughtering every Muggle-born that they could find; that they should be grateful little slaves!’

Terry nodded. ‘How many did you all find?’ he asked his friends.

‘There were more than four dozen in Pwhelli,’ Neville said angrily. ‘All malnourished and beaten, we had to pull in the entire Cardiff Law Office to help us. Auror Topping took six of the Muggle-borns straight to St. Mungo’s because they were so close to death. They were all former healers, too. All sold into slavery by Wylde. I thought that Madam Blood was going to explode. She told Uriah Smith the grisly details of the interrogation techniques she’d used on Death Eaters at the end of the first war. She told him that she was a little out of practice, so there was the possibility that she might accidentally kill him.’

‘Minister Shacklebolt has banned all dangerous and violent interrogation techniques,’ Susan interjected angrily. ‘The Deputy Head Auror shouldn’t be…’

‘I know,’ interrupted Neville, smiling apologetically. ‘Deputy Head Auror Blood told him that, too … but not until after he’d turned green and confessed. He’s in the Auror cells at the Ministry now.’

‘Parkinson had no slaves.’ Harry was next to take up the story. ‘He didn’t even put up a struggle; he just sat quietly in his living room and confessed. Robards was astonished, and really annoyed. He was expecting a big fight. I think that he was hoping for a big fight, he’s been trying to arrest Parkinson for years apparently.’

‘Parkinson claimed that he’d been blackmailed into helping the gang by Wylde. He admitted that one of his great grandmothers was Muggle-born and claimed that Wylde had found out. It was a rather disappointing raid, nothing exiting happened. Everyone was in bed when we blasted through the front door. We hauled everyone downstairs, kept them separated and questioned them all individually. Pansy and her mum did nothing but cry the whole time we were there, it wasn’t pleasant.’

‘No Muggle-borns?’ Neville asked.

‘No, we looked everywhere, too. Piers Parkinson claimed to have wanted nothing to do with the slave trade. He seemed genuine, but he’s a really arrogant sod,’ Harry observed. ‘He reminded me a lot of Lucius Malfoy, the old supercilious version, not the babbling drunkard Lucius was the last time I saw him. But Parkinson co-operated with us and it looks likely that he’ll get off with a hefty fine.’

Ron hastily gulped down his broth. ‘There were no Muggle-borns in Birmingham either,’ he told his friends. ‘Ezekiel Smith denied all knowledge of any criminal activities. He even invited us to search the place, the smug git; not that we needed his permission. We searched for hours; we didn’t even stop for lunch! But we didn’t find anything. Eventually, Phillipa Fortescue left me and Keen to question the greasy little pillock while she went for a cuppa. At least, that’s what she said.’

‘We were getting nowhere;’ Ron continued as Kreacher cleared their plates away and began serving the main course. ‘He just denied everything. Then Gryfudd Llewellyn, from Nev’s team, arrived with the evidence from Pwhelli. We confronted him with it, but he claimed that his cousin, Uriah, must have been doing it without his knowledge.’

Ron paused, broke the last bread roll in half and used it to mop the last drops of broth from the tureen before Kreacher removed it. He hastily swallowed the roll, hardly bothering to chew, and continued his story. ‘We thought that we’d have to let him go, but Phillipa turned up with all of Smith’s files. They gave us proof of his involvement, so we arrested him. It turns out that Phillipa had asked Smith’s secretary to make them both a cuppa. While they were drinking tea, she managed to persuade the secretary to tell her where the confidential files were hidden. It turns out that Wylde, Parkinson, Rowle and Nott, had quite a business going, I’m not sure how they started…’

‘I am,’ Susan continued the story, ‘Wylde was the Muggle-born Registration Commission’s representative in St Mungo’s. He was sent lists of suspected Muggle-borns by Umbridge’s office. He passed the names to his gang before summoning any of the Muggle-borns before the Commission. That allowed Parkinson to arrange “escapes” for the Muggle-borns and their families. They handed over all their money for safe passage, then they had their wands taken and were effectively enslaved. Wylde used Parkinson because unlike both Rowle and Nott he’s never been associated the Death Eaters.’

‘But the Law Officers are certain Parkinson is linked to a lot of criminal activities,’ Harry observed.

‘Criminal,’ Susan pointed out, ‘not Death Eater or Dark Magic, so that’s for Magical Law Enforcement, not us. The Sheriff of Yorkshire might not have been able to catch Parkinson, and Robards may be a friend of the Sheriff, but it looks like he hasn’t found much, either. But what was Smith’s involvement?’

Smith was simply in the market for cheap labour, no questions asked,’ Ron said.

‘During the war he had them mass producing anti-Muggle-born pamphlets for the Ministry,’ Neville said, holding his steak knife like a dagger and waving it violently. Ron was glad that none of those arrested in Wales were in the room.

‘Theodore Nott,’ Susan announced, ‘is completely innocent.’

‘Really?’ Ron asked.

Susan scornfully raised a fine blonde eyebrow. ‘I doubt it, but we’ll probably never know. We “checked the area for alarm spells,” but we must have missed something, because when we approached the house Nott opened the door and invited us in. Williamson was livid; he blamed McLoughlin for some reason. Nott invited us in. He’s a cool one, Theodore Nott. Did any of you get to know him at school?’ asked Susan.

The young men all shook their heads.

‘He was a real loner,’ Terry declared.

‘I saw him hanging around with Zabini sometimes,’ Neville observed, ‘but I think that they were just together because they didn’t want to hang around with Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle.

‘Theodore Nott certainly didn’t have the reputation among the girls that Zabini had,’ Susan observed.

‘Reputation? What reputation?’ Neville asked. Susan, to everyone’s amazement, blushed.

‘He was supposed to have had lots of girlfriends, that’s all,’ she explained. ‘He could be a real charmer.’

‘Speaking from experience?’ Ron grinned.

‘He didn’t get anywhere with me,’ said Susan matter-of-factly, pursing her lips and looking very severe. ‘But he did try. Parvati said that I should be honoured, that he was very picky, but I’m not so sure. Last year he got off with Daphne and Pansy and…. But that’s not important, and it has nothing to do with Nott. He answered all of Williamson’s questions quickly and, apparently, honestly.’

‘Theodore Nott claims that his father, Thornton Nott, forbade him from having anything to do with Voldemort and that his father rejoined the Death Eaters simply because the alternative was death,’ Susan announced.

Ron grumbled under his breath while cramming steak into his mouth.

‘He came up with a plausible story,’ Susan said quietly. ‘His father was a Death Eater, we all know that. Thornton Nott had joined Riddle early on, even before Malfoy.’

‘Theodore — I’ll call him Theodore and his dad Thornton to avoid confusion.’ Susan sounded unhappy about using the young man’s first name. ‘Theodore claims that, after Voldemort’s first defeat, his dad decided that the unbeatable “You-Know-Who” wasn’t unbeatable after all.’

Ron snorted disbelievingly, dribbling pepper sauce.

‘Ron, you are the most disgusting eater I’ve ever seen.’ Susan shuddered before returning to her story.

‘Unlike the Malfoys, Thornton Nott kept in the background. He did what he was ordered, but no more. He didn’t offer Theodore a chance to join, in fact he told him to keep out of it. Theodore is actually proud of his father. He admitted that if Voldemort had won, he would have joined his father in the ranks of the Death Eaters, but he lost, and Theodore, unlike Draco Malfoy and Gregory Goyle, remains blameless.’

‘I wish we knew where Goyle is hiding,’ Harry grumbled. ‘I can’t believe that he’s still on the run.’

‘I thought I saw him the other day,’ Ron observed, ‘in the gorilla enclosure at the zoo, but it was just an exceptionally ugly gorilla.’

Neville and Terry snorted with laughter.

‘He’s still free,’ Harry reminded them seriously. ‘But what about “Theodore”, he must have known something.’

‘About Voldemort? Lots, but he claimed to be too frightened to talk and we know how good that defence is. It was true for a lot of people, “keep quiet or die!”’

‘I meant about the slavery business,’ corrected Harry.

‘That’s what Williamson argued, too,’ Susan replied. ‘But Nott claimed otherwise and he was at school when all of this was going on, as he reminded us. He asked us what we wanted, so Williamson told him.’

‘Why,’ Terry grunted.

Susan shrugged as she delicately chewed a small piece of steak. ‘We hadn’t found anything during the search. He had no choice, really.’

‘When Williamson told Theodore, he summoned a house-elf, Shilly, and asked her if his father had ordered her to hide any papers. The poor thing started hitting her head on the table. Nott ordered her to stop and reminded her that, as his father would never be released from Azkaban, he was now the head of the house. To cut a long story short, old man Nott had. Theodore ordered her to retrieve them and handed them all over to us. They confirmed his story. They did it brilliantly, it’s as though his father had written them to make certain that Theodore had no case to answer.’

‘He probably did,’ observed Harry.

‘This all confirms Wylde’s story,’ Ron pointed out. ‘Just because his Missus thinks he’s innocent, it doesn’t mean that he is. We’ve got his confession under Veritaserum, it’s an open and shut case. He agreed to take Veritaserum, too. I still think that Kingsley’s made a mistake banning its use without agreement from the suspect.’

‘The court is told if the accused refuse to take Veritaserum, Ron,’ Harry pointed out.

‘Is there any way to fool Veritaserum?’ Ron began, ‘I’ve often wondered what would happen if…’ He stopped mid-sentence and watched Kreacher enter the room with Harry’s newspapers; the Evening Prophet and the Muggle Evening Standard.

‘What does that headline say?’ Ron spat angrily.

Harry took the papers from his house elf and swore. He showed the front page headline to his friends.

“Peeping Potter”

Harry read the first few sentences of the article aloud, his voice trembling with anger. ‘I suppose it’s too late for me to tell you that I did drag Pansy from her bed,’ he sighed. ‘But she wasn’t naked,’ he shuddered at the thought. ‘She was wearing pyjamas, purple ones I think, I wasn’t paying attention I just wanted to get her out of there and downstairs so that Fiona Fergus could search the place.’

Ron burst out laughing, ‘I believe you, mate, it looks like you’re going to be sick at the thought of it.’ He moved his fork hopefully towards Harry’s plate, and his still unfinished main course. ‘If you are feeling sick, I can finish your steak for you.’

Harry grinned and protected his food from his friend. ‘Gerroffit, Ron. The thought of a naked Pansy isn’t quite enough to put me off my dinner.’

‘That’s ridiculous!’ Terry snapped. ‘We raid five properties, rescue more than sixty imprisoned Muggle-borns and finally announce the capture of one of the only two known Death Eaters still on the run. But the paper prints that as its main headline!’

‘Welcome to the world of Potter, mate,’ Ron grinned. ‘It doesn’t matter what we do, if Harry’s involved, he’ll get the headlines … and they’ll be wrong.’

‘Sorry, Terry,’ Harry apologised. ‘Like I said, it’s not even true, I can try to get Pansy to withdraw her allegation, but I can’t make the papers print what they should.’

‘It’s not your fault, Harry,’ Neville said. It was the same when we went to the Ministry, and after the Battle, it’s like the rest of us are all invisible.’

‘IT’S WRONG,’ Harry shouted angrily. ‘Why do they do this? Why did Pansy lie?’

‘She got her name on the front page, Harry,’ Susan said quietly, her voice a sarcastic hiss. ‘That’s probably all that “attractive eighteen-year-old Pansy Parkinson” wanted.’

Harry swore under his breath. ‘I’ll have a word with Kingsley, tonight. We’ll get a factual press statement out for tomorrow’s Sunday Prophet. But first I’d better write to Ginny and explain.’

‘She’s not daft,’ Ron reassured his friend, ‘she’ll know that it’s a load of bollocks. Look on the bright side, we’ve all got through our first proper mission, and it’s been a success, apart from the headlines.’

‘Not completely, Ron,’ Harry said morosely, ‘I was convinced that either Nott the Death Eater, or Parkinson the criminal were behind the slavery business and that Wylde was just a stooge.’ Harry shook his head sadly. ‘I know that Wylde has confessed, but I’ve talked to his wife several times, she’s completely convinced that he’s innocent and he just doesn’t seem the type to me.’

‘There are still a lot of people missing,’ added Neville grimly. ‘Wylde claims that he has no idea where they are.’

‘We’ve been through the paperwork, Ron,’ said Harry. ‘There are eighty-four Muggle-borns named on the lists we recovered from Rowle’s places. We’ve found sixty-three of them. There’s no sign of the rest. Twenty-one men, women and kids have just — vanished. Katie and Leanne have been preparing a list of “The Missing” for the Society for the Assistance of Muggle-borns, too. Not everyone we’ve found was even reported missing, but Katie reckons that there are probably still more than a hundred Muggle-borns missing, or dead.’

‘We could torture Umbridge until we find them,’ Ron suggested.

‘Ron,’ Susan was shocked. ‘She doesn’t know where they are, she was simply the reason that they fled.’

‘It would make me feel better,’ Ron scowled.

‘It wouldn’t, mate,’ Harry said quietly.

‘I know!’ said Ron, nodding sadly. He crashed a fist down on the table in frustration. ‘It’s just the … injustice … of it all. That evil bloody woman! It might’ve been Hermione in one of those places! She might be missing, or worse. But we’re better than Umbridge, we pursue the guilty, not the innocent, don’t we?’

‘I hope so, mate,’ Harry said.

They finished their meal in a morose silence. Neville, Terry and Susan stayed late, drinking butterbeer and re-analysing their missions. It was almost midnight when the three visitors left Ron and Harry alone in Grimmauld Place.

Ron watched Harry carefully. His friend was sitting at the dining table once again looking through the list of those missing. Ron recognised the signs; Harry was beginning to obsess, to push himself. It was hard for anyone not to get emotionally involved, but for Harry, it was impossible. He would never give up, Ron realised.

‘We’ll find ‘em, mate.’ Ron said quietly.

‘Dead or alive?’ Harry asked bleakly.

‘A lot of people were killed, Harry,’ Ron told his friend gently, ‘it’s possible that the best we’ll be able to do is find out where they were buried, and, hopefully, who killed them. Today was a good day, half-a-dozen people arrested and more than sixty freed. And…’ he grinned, ‘it’s not every day that you get to see Pansy naked!’

‘I told you I didn’t…’ Harry began angrily, before seeing the mischief on Ron’s face. Harry laughed. ‘This is just great! It’s bad enough when you take the mickey about the things I have done.

‘It’s Mum you need to worry about, mate,’ Ron smiled, ‘and Bill, probably, but me and Ginny, we’ll just…’

‘Tease me unmercifully. I know,’ Harry smiled. ‘So, how’s George?’

‘Business isn’t getting any better, so I spoke to the staff, told them that we can’t afford to pay them and asked if any of them wanted to work part-time. Turns out that Verity had been offered a better paid job at Honeydukes, but she was frightened to tell George. We let her go immediately, George wanted to give her a month’s pay, but she wouldn’t hear of it, bless her,’ Ron began.

‘Big Mac and little Mac have both agreed to go part time ... Gordon McNamara and Tammy MacLeod,’ he explained to a puzzled Harry. ‘It’s not enough, we’re still making a loss, but it will help.’

Ron stopped and looked carefully at his friend. ‘I’m in trouble with the Portkey Office, too,’ he admitted. ‘I was looking through some experimental stuff and I found a book…’

Ron looked around the room and made sure that no one else was listening, though there was no need as there was no one else, other than Kreacher, in the house.

‘George’ll tell you anyway,’ he whispered. ‘The book was called Witches Wearing Nothing. I opened it.’ Harry sniggered.

‘You would’ve too!’ Ron protested. ‘Anyway, as soon as I opened it there was a blue light and I ended up in the street, but my robes stayed behind, I was in the middle of Diagon Alley in nothing but socks and boxers, and still holding the bloody book. I Apparated straight back to the shop but the Porkey office had spotted the unauthorised Portkey and they sent some of their staff to both origin and destination. That’s the real reason I was late.’

Harry howled with laughter.

‘The Portkey guys told me that it was impossible, that Portkeys could only be operated by either touch or a timed switch, not by opening a book. But nobody had bothered to tell Fred and George that it was impossible, so they did it anyway. The pages were blank by the way, Fred’s a… Fred was a… bollocks, I can’t call a dead man names.’

‘I really don’t think he’d mind,’ suggested Harry quietly. ‘I reckon that he’d probably be pleased.’ Ron nodded thoughtfully.

‘You’re still a pain in the bum, Fred,’ Ron said, smiling sadly.

‘I’ve been thinking,’ Ron continued, looking serious. ‘I think that we could enchant our handcuffs as Portkeys so that as soon as we close them the suspect is sent to a cell.’ Ron looked carefully into Harry’s face and watched his friend see the possibilities.

‘That’s brilliant, Ron.’

‘Thanks,’ Ron grinned, ‘I thought so, too. Don’t tell anyone until we have a prototype ready to demonstrate to the Ministry. This might be the thing me and George need. We could save the company and, because that Portkey book was Fred’s idea, George will be up for it.’

‘Save the business?’ Harry asked. ‘Are things really that bad?’

‘Almost; we desperately need some money spinners and less staff,’ Ron admitted. ‘If the company goes bust then you’ll never see the money you gave the twins.’

‘I don’t want it back, Ron. I never did.’

‘You’re going to get it,’ Ron replied forcefully. ‘You’re going to get it from me and you’re not going to tell George until after I’ve paid you back. Because then he’ll owe me that money, not you! That’s when the stubborn one-eared sod will discover that he has a banker who wants to get involved in the business. Me!’
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