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Friends and Foes | ||||||
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Category: Post-Hogwarts, Post-DH/AB Characters:All Genres: Action/Adventure, Angst, Comedy, Drama, Fluff, Romance, Tragedy Warnings: Mild Sexual Situations, Violence Rating: PG-13 Reviews: 176 Summary: Harry and his friends finally know who killed Ginny and Luna's classmate, Colin Creevey. It is 2001, and the search has been ongoing for a year. Will those final few foes who escaped justice at the end of The Battle ever be brought to justice? Hitcount: Story Total: 56408; Chapter Total: 4333 Awards: View Trophy Room Author's Notes: As always, Amelie beta read this one for me. |
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8. Islington Evening ‘Cursed,’ Bobbie snorted dismissively. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. I want the truth. Who killed him?’ ‘My guess: and it’s just a guess, because I’ve absolutely no proof,’ Harry said, ’is that it was a wizard named Gregory Goyle. We went to school with him, too, by the way. It may have been another: Marcus Flint, or possibly even Miles Bletchley, but we won’t know until we catch them.’ ‘Wizard!’ Bobbie clenched her fists angrily and leaned forward. When she uncurled an accusatory forefinger Harry held up his hands in defeat and leaned back in his chair. ‘We usually order dessert, Bobbie, but I don’t think we will tonight,’ Harry said quietly. He turned to his friends. ‘Does anyone mind if we simply get the bill now, and go back to my place for coffee, cake and an interesting discussion with this inquisitive young lady? If we’re going to answer her questions honestly, we need to be somewhere private,’ he said. Bobbie realised that, because of her actions, they were being watched by almost everyone in the restaurant; she sat back in her chair and tried to relax. Hermione looked scandalised by Harry’s suggestion. ‘You can’t,’ she announced. ‘You simply can’t! It’s not possible. You’d be breaking the International…’ ‘Hermione, just look at what she’s found out,’ Harry indicated the photographs. ‘We need to talk to her, and we shouldn’t be doing it here.’ Harry argued. ‘Ron,’ Hermione turned to her boyfriend, looking for support. Ron was looking rather worried, his eyes flicked from Hermione to Harry and then to Ginny. His mouth opened, but no words came out. ‘Harry’s right, Ron,’ announced Ginny forcefully. ‘You know he is.’ ‘Harry’s right!’ Ron mimicked her tone sarcastically. ‘That’s all you ever say these days, Ginny.’ ‘No it isn’t!’ Harry and Ginny spoke simultaneously. Ginny smiled at her boyfriend, but he didn’t return the smile. ‘You should apologise to Ron, Ginny,’ Harry told her. ‘Apologise!’ she snapped angrily. ‘He started it. The first thing he said to me was “hello, loser.” Even before he even told us that he’d spotted her.’ Ginny’s fiery gaze scorched Bobbie. Yeah,’ Ron snapped. ‘But...’ ‘But you’re merciless to him when the Cannons lose, Ginny,’ said Harry cutting across Ron as Hermione continued to squeak in protest. ‘Which is most of the time,’ said Ginny, smirking. ‘See!’ said Ron triumphantly. ‘Just cut it out, Ginny,’ ordered Harry. ‘Live with it, please! The Harpies lost to the Bats, and the Cannons beat the Catapults, and Ron rubbed your nose in it! Ron takes worse from you, a lot worse, after almost every game.’ ‘That’s different!’ ‘No, Ginny, it isn’t,’ Harry said. ‘You’re a bad loser. I know that it’s hard, especially the way you were beaten. You were ninety points in the lead! You would have won, if they hadn’t caught the Snitch.’ ‘They wouldn’t have, if Claire O’Hare hadn’t blocked our Seeker...’ ‘She did exactly what you’d have done, if you hadn’t been at the other end of this pitch, scoring. Bobbie has no idea what we’re talking about, and this is important! Now, can we forget about Quidditch?’ Harry asked her. For a moment, Bobbie thought that Ginny was going to explode. ‘Forget about Quidditch!’ Ginny snapped, astonished. At the same instant, Ron said, ‘It’s not as important as Quidditch.’ The siblings stared at each other, and began to laugh. ‘I’m leaving,’ said Harry, sounding annoyed. ‘If you want answers, Bobbie, come with me. What about the rest of you?’ ‘I’m coming,’ said Ginny. ‘Sorry, Ron, gloat while you can. It won’t last long.’ Ron shrugged. He and Hermione exchanged a glance, and Hermione gave a reluctant nod. ‘Somebody has to watch your back, mate,’ said Ron. ‘And it looks like it’s up to me and Hermione again.’ Before anyone could change their mind, Harry called the waiter over and asked for the bill. This caused some confusion as the man had been expecting them to order dessert. After a curious glance at Bobbie, he left. The moment the bill arrived, Harry placed more than enough cash on the table to cover his and Ginny’s meal. Ron glanced at the total and pulled several more notes from his wallet. It covered the other three meals, and added a substantial tip.. ‘No,’ Bobbie began, reaching for her bag. Ron dismissed Bobbie’s protests with a wave of his hand. ‘I said I’d pay,’ Ron told her. ‘Keep your money, Bobbie. Just make sure that you collect all of your papers.’ He indicated the photographs scattered across the table. By the time Bobbie had replaced all of the photographs and newspaper cuttings back into her bag, the bill was paid. As they left, all four apologised to the waiter for their abrupt departure. He nodded politely to his regular customers, but remained stony faced when Bobbie passed. ‘You two go ahead,’ Harry told Ron and Hermione as they descended the stairs from the restaurant. ‘Ginny and I will travel with Bobbie in her car. She’ll need to be given directions.’ Ron and Hermione strode down the pavement towards her car, Hermione taking three steps to every two of her boyfriend. From the urgent movements of their heads, Bobbie was certain that they were discussing her. As she slowly walked towards her own car Bobbie wondered whether she was being incredibly foolish. She was allowing herself to be taken into the lair of her enemies. But her enemies were little more than two squabbling couples. She dawdled, allowing Harry and Ginny to draw slightly ahead, and she observed their behaviour closely. They were hand-in-hand, strolling unconcernedly towards her car, looking like an ordinary, if well-off, young couple. Their behaviour wasn’t that of two dangerous spies trying to kidnap her. She heard Ginny say, ‘Sorry.’ ‘Me too,’ said Harry. ‘But don’t blame Bobbie. She’s doing her job, and she’s certainly not to blame for the Harpies losing.’ ‘I know,’ said Ginny. She leant in to him and rested her head on his shoulder for a moment. She smiled, and simply moved closer to him. When they reached her car, Harry and Ginny turned and watched her approach. ‘You’re uncomfortable,’ Harry said to her. ‘What can we do to make you less suspicious of us? Should we walk? It will take almost half an hour?’ ‘Harry and I could sit in the back seat and snog. That’s what we used to do when Hermione got her first car,’ Ginny offered. ‘It used to drive Ron mad.’ ‘Except I need to direct her,’ Harry said. Ginny looked up and down the street, it was almost deserted. She shook her head. ‘No you don’t,’ she said quietly. ‘I’ll tell her now. She already knows where to go, Harry, she’s told us. She simply can’t find it.’ ‘Perhaps I should have suggested Hermione’s place,’ Harry said. ‘Trust your instincts,’ Ginny told him. She turned and looked up into Bobbie’s face. ‘Have you got a pen and paper?’ she asked. Bobbie scrabbled through her shoulder bag and handed Ginny a pen. She then tore off the top flap of the envelope full of photographs and handed it to Ginny, who wrote a short note on it. ‘Read this,’ she told Bobbie, holding it in front of her face. Bobbie did so. In a flamboyant scrawl, Ginny had written “Harry Potter lives at 12 Grimmauld Place”. As she read it, Bobbie lost her temper. She tried to grab the paper, but Ginny crumpled it up, threw it in the air and pulled an impossibly long stick from her tiny handbag. ‘Incendio,’ she said, and the paper ball burst into flames. Bobbie looked at her in astonishment. ‘Ginny!’ said Harry worriedly. ‘It’s the only way, Harry,’ said Ginny. She pushed the stick back into her bag, turned to Bobbie and waved an accusing finger at her. ‘You’re the one who’s been investigating us. You wanted to find out what was going on,’ Ginny told her, her eyes blazing. ‘Harry has never been a very good liar. He’s been telling you the truth, I’ve no idea why, but I hope he knows what he’s doing.’ ‘Ginny has given you the address, Bobbie,’ said Harry. ‘You’ve already tried to find it, so you know where to go.’ ‘You’ve interrupted our night out,’ Ginny said. ‘Our fortnightly Wednesday night meetings are just for the four of us, and they are not supposed to be about work. Now decide what you’re doing. Either drive us to Grimmauld Place, or leave us alone!’ ‘She’s always a bit on edge when her team loses,’ apologised Harry. Deciding not to revisit the bizarre conversation about Harpies, Catapults and Quidditch, Bobbie unlocked her car. She pulled the passenger seat forwards, and let them both climb into the back. As she walked around the car to get into the driver’s seat, she tried to gather her thoughts. Her car was a two-door, so she had them trapped. They wouldn’t dare do anything to her while they were moving, she could take them anywhere. But...what had she just seen? Had the paper had been chemically treated to burst into flames? It was her paper! Perhaps it was the ink in the pen? But it was her pen, too! It must be a trick, but how? Bobbie made her decision. She’d take them to the nonexistent house in Grimmauld Place and drive slowly past, when she’d proved that the house wasn’t there, she would drive them back to her own flat. She started her car and drove off. When she got back to her flat, what then? She didn’t know. They were so difficult to question, so self assured, so confident. She looked in her mirror at the couple on the back seat. And so busy snogging, she realised. She was driving slowly and carefully into Islington with a young couple she considered were potentially dangerous, yet all they were doing was snogging on her back seat. She snorted in frustration. This was insane. ‘Harry’s right. I’m always hard on Ron. But he’s my brother, he should expect it,’ said Ginny. ‘I’m simply trying to make Harry see my side of things.’ Bobbie ignored this remark and drove on in silence. As she made her way through the crowded streets, she tried to come up with a better plan, and failed. Eventually she was driving through a quieter, residential, area and turning into Grimmauld Place. She saw Hermione Granger’s red Mini immediately. It was parked … it was parked outside number twelve. The house which didn’t exist suddenly did exist! It seemed to have squeezed itself into existence between the two neighbouring properties. It was impossible! Bobbie knew there was no such address. She had walked up and down the street several times. There was no such property as twelve, Grimmauld Place. Now, somehow, there was! Stunned, Bobbie drove past the Mini and parked in the first available space, which was a little way beyond the house and on the opposite side of the road. Ginny and Harry were looking at her, they seemed concerned. ‘Are you all right?’ Ginny asked. ‘Come inside, coffee will be ready by now,’ Harry told her. When she finally let go of the steering wheel, Bobbie’s hands were shaking. She groped for the door handle and, eventually, opened it. She staggered out into the cool evening air and fumbled with the seat. Harry helped. He pushed the seat forward, climbed out and held onto Bobbie’s arm to steady her. Ginny followed Harry from the back of the car and took Bobbie’s other arm. Between them, they almost carried her up the steps to the front door. ‘I’ll apologise in advance,’ Harry said. ‘Because this is where things are going to get really weird for you. I remember how I felt when I was told I was a wizard. You probably don’t believe what’s happening, but when you see what’s inside, you’ll realise that the world doesn’t work in quite the way you thought it did. I’m sorry.’ He pulled a stick from his pocket and tapped the door. It swung open, revealing a long, brightly lit hallway. They stepped inside and the door closed. The hallway was painted a pale pastel green. The flickering light from dozens of what appeared to be gas lamps lit several photographs on the wall. Impossibly, these photographs were moving. The first photograph was a panorama, and a portrait. Over two dozen people stood in front of a huge, ancient, castle. Bobbie recognised many of them from the funeral photos. The photograph was labelled “Dumbledore’s Army Reunion: October 2000.” Next was a framed poster of Ginny. She was wearing long green robes and carrying a broomstick. Above her head were the words Holyhead Harpies. Below her feet she was identified as G.M. ‘Ginny’ Weasley — Chaser. ‘That’s the first poster they ever did. I think the later ones are better,’ Ginny said. ‘But Harry likes that one for some reason.’ Looking at it, Bobbie knew why. Despite the ridiculous clothes Ginny was wearing, the girl the poster looked slightly shy, a little unsure of herself, and very cute. Then she winked. Bobbie turned her attention to the next photograph. It showed a young couple with a baby. It was obvious that they were Harry’s parents. Then was a photograph of a gaunt, once handsome, dark haired man. The final photograph showed another family; father, mother and newborn baby. Both mother and baby had bubblegum pink hair. A cruel thing to do to a tiny baby, Bobbie thought. The man was a lot older than the woman. He looked thin and ill, but happy. At the end of the hall was a door and, leading back in the other direction stairs led to several upper floors. In the open area at the bottom of the stairs hung two paintings, both of the same room, a study. In both, however, there was nothing but an empty chair. As they approached the door, Bobbie’s head was spinning. Hermione Granger opened the door at the end of the hall and looked at then, concern etched across her face. ‘Harry,’ she said urgently. ‘There are dozens of anti-Muggle charms on the house. They’re all really old and I can’t shift them. I’ve spoken to Kreacher. He can lift them, but only if the Master of the house gives him a direct order.’ ‘Sorry Bobbie, I should have realised,’ Harry groaned. ‘Ginny, Hermione, take her down into the kitchen, please.’ The two girls helped her down a flight of stairs into a large kitchen. As they descended the stairs Bobbie heard Harry speak. ‘Kreacher…’ then the door at the top of the stairs closed and she heard no more. By the time she reached the bottom of the stairs Bobbie was beginning to feel better. Her hands were no longer shaking, her mind was beginning to clear and her visit to this strange house was beginning to lose its dream-like quality. Bobbie took stock of her surroundings. The kitchen was huge and very old-fashioned. Like the hall, it was lit by gas lamps. At the far end of the room were a huge fireplace and an old-fashioned black iron range. Gleaming iron and copper pots hung from hooks on the roof beams. A huge scrubbed wooden table stood in the centre of the room. Five sturdy-looking old chairs were drawn out at the far end of the table, where stood five mugs, five plates, a large chocolate cake, a jug of cream and a large cafetière of coffee. Hermione and Ginny guided Bobbie to one of the chairs. Ron Weasley was sitting at the table finishing a slice of cake. He helped himself to a second slice. ‘Great cake,’ he mumbled through chocolate smeared lips. ‘One of Kreacher’s best. You all right, Bobbie?’ ‘What happened, did you drug me?’ Bobbie asked angrily, reaching in her pocket for her pepper spray. The feel of it in her hand was enough to reassure her. ‘Your disorientation is my fault,’ Harry admitted as he descended the stairs into the kitchen. ‘You haven’t been drugged. This house is magically protected. Some of the protections were affecting you. I’ve had them temporarily removed.’ ‘There’s coffee and cake on the table as promised. The coffee is still in the pot, so it can’t be drugged. If you want some cake you’d better be quick. Otherwise Ron will eat the lot,’ Ginny told Bobbie. Harry sat down opposite her, and Bobbie realised that she was, once again, flanked by Ginny and Hermione. Hermione sat opposite Ron and glared at him, and the cake. He ignored her and finished his second piece of cake. ‘Now,’ Harry said. ‘You had some questions for us. Ask away.’ ‘Who are you?’ Bobbie started with the basics. Harry looked at Ginny, and suppressed a laugh. It was obvious that he found the question very amusing. So did Ginny, she grinned and winked at him. ‘You’ve never heard of the world-famous Harry Potter? Amazing!’ Ginny began impishly. ‘I’ll go first; I’m Ginny Weasley, professional Chaser for Holyhead Harpies and England. I ride a broomstick for a living. It’s the best job in the world.’ ‘Harry Potter, Auror. I work for the Auror Office, Department for Magical Law Enforcement, Ministry for Magic,’ Harry said promptly. ‘Ron Weasley, Auror, I work with Harry, same office, same team,’ said Ron as he ignored Hermione’s glare and picked up a third slice of cake. No one else was eating it. ‘Hermione Granger, I work in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, Ministry for Magic. We should not be telling you this, Constable Beadle, it’s a clear breach of the International Statute of Secrecy,’ said an unhappy-sounding Hermione. ‘Is it really?’ Harry sounded disappointed. ‘I was hoping that you’d be able to find me a loophole, Hermione. You have read the Statute, haven’t you?’ ‘Of course,’ said Hermione, sounding surprised. ‘Haven’t you?’ Her friends grinned at her. ‘You must have,’ she protested. ‘When you join the Ministry you have to sign to say that you’ve read it.’ ‘I’m not a Ministry employee,’ said Ginny. ‘And as for these two,’ she indicated Ron and Harry dismissively, ‘you’ve been doing all of the reading for these idiots since they were eleven! You can’t expect them to start now.’ Bobbie looked at them in disbelief. This was obviously a well-practiced story, they sounded sincere, matter-of-fact, and they were even making jokes. The photo of Ginny in the hall was a good trick, but the idea of a “Ministry for Magic” was preposterous. Suddenly filled with anger, Bobbie stood and clenched her fists. She wanted the truth, not some ridiculous fairy story. Harry instantly leapt to his feet, a wooden stick in his hand. His friends did the same. Bobbie remembered the blond young man in Belgravia Mews; he had also pointed a stick at her. She staggered as the foundations of her world were shaken by an earthquake of impossibilities. ‘I’ll show you, it’s the easiest way,’ he said. ‘This is my wand.’ He waved the stick, and then pointed it at each of the gas lamps in turn. As he did so, they went out, plunging the room into near darkness. ‘Lumos,’ he said, and the tip of his wand lit up bathing them in a low glow. Bobbie was still gasping when Ginny pointed her wand at the lamps, and the room was once again illuminated by their cosy flickering. Harry extinguished the glow on his wand. ‘Accio,’ he said. A pan hurtled towards the room towards him. With another flick he sent it back to the hook it had flown from. ‘Do you need any more demonstrations?’ he asked. Or should we just answer your questions now?’ ‘That … that … that …’ ‘That was magic,’ Harry told her, waving the stick he was holding. ‘And as I said these are wands.’ Her mind in turmoil, Bobbie looked at the four youngsters. They looked very serious, almost afraid. Harry looked at her sympathetically. ‘We’ve just ended your cosy Muggle view of the world, I’m sorry,’ he apologised. ‘Do you want something stronger to drink? I’ve got Butterbeer, elf wine and Firewhisky. I also have some decent French and Italian red wines, some Italian and German whites, a few bottles of IPA, and some other Muggle beers. Hermione’s dad is a beer drinker and I’m starting to get a taste for it myself.’ Bobbie gazed from face to face. They were nervous. If this was a trick, it was a good one. But she couldn’t think of any way they could have set up the show she’d just seen. She moved to the head of the table and sat down. ‘Sit,’ she ordered. They all did so. ‘You said that you work for the Auror Office, Magical Law Enforcement. What do you do, exactly?’ she asked Harry. ‘We investigate the use of dark magic,’ he told her. ‘Ordinary magical crime: thefts, assaults, minor hexings and stuff like that is dealt with by our colleagues in another section of Magical Law Enforcement; the sheriffs and bailiffs of the regional law offices. We only get involved in cases involving cursed items, death by curse, and dark magic assaults. Basically, we track town and capture dark wizards.’ ‘It was Harry’s idea to monitor the Muggle police,’ Ron added. ‘He thought it would be a good idea to check for curse deaths in the Muggle world, because Tom Riddle killed quite a few Muggles.’ ‘What are Muggles?’ Bobbie asked. ‘Non-magical folk like you, and most people in the world,’ Hermione said. ‘I was Muggle-born, so was Harry’s mum. The Weasleys are Purebloods, their family have lived apart from the Muggle world–the normal world–for centuries.’ ‘That’s why you couldn’t find any record of them,’ Harry added helpfully. ‘So who is this Tom Riddle character?’ ‘Very nasty dark wizard, Harry killed him,’ Ron said. ‘I did not,’ Harry replied hotly. ‘He tried to kill me. I tried to disarm him and his killing curse rebounded. He killed himself.’ Bobbie silently stored that piece of information, and moved on to another topic. ‘Why was Mr McCoy killed?’ she asked. ‘We think that he disturbed a burglar,’ Harry replied. ‘It was common knowledge–at least it was common knowledge in the magical community–that Justin was in Romania. He was attacked by a dragon, and it made the papers.’ ‘Dragon!’ Bobbie spluttered. ‘I suppose that would explain the burns,’ she added feebly. ‘Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures is Hermione’s area of expertise,’ said Harry. Hermione frowned, but spoke. ‘Given what Harry has already told you, I suppose I might as well let you know. My department looks after all magical creatures. I specialise in sentient beings, but another office ensures that the native British dragons are kept out of sight.’ Hermione had adopted a lecturing tone as she spoke. ‘Native British dragons,’ said Bobbie weakly. She gulped down some coffee and wished that she’d accepted Harry’s offer and that she was drinking something stronger. ‘There are two dragon sanctuaries in the UK,’ Hermione explained. ‘The island of Cantref y Gwaelod is hidden in Cardigan Bay, and it’s the home of almost all of the world’s Common Welsh Green Dragons. The majority of the Hebridean Blacks live on Suntkelda, the most westerly island of the Outer Hebrides. The islands don’t appear on any Muggle maps, of course.’ ‘Of course,’ agreed Bobbie. She was beginning to wonder if she was, in fact, drunk. ‘Justin has worked in both,’ said Harry. ‘But he moved to the world’s biggest Dragon Sanctuary in Romania.’ ‘My brother, Charlie, works there too,’ Ginny added. ‘Justin was injured on Easter Sunday,’ Harry said. ‘As I said, it made the papers on Monday. Not the ones you read, of course, the magical papers. Then, in the early hours of Tuesday morning, you disturbed the killer. We’re currently concentrating our investigation on those people who knew Justin’s address. Someone told the killer where Justin was living, and whoever did it must be able to contact the killer.’ ‘We reckon that it’s someone in the Improper Use of Magic Office,’ said Ron. ‘They keep a register of all magical addresses.’ ‘Improper Use of Magic,’ Bobbie repeated. She tried to concentrate. If this was a lie, it was a big and complicated one, and it would be easy to catch them out. ‘We think that the burglar had assumed that the house would be empty,’ Harry added. ‘He unlocked the front door and then used a Blasting Curse to blow a hole in the wall and steal various spell books and potion ingredients. McCoy must have heard the noise and come to investigate. The burglar killed him as he was coming down stairs. He drew his wand on you, too, didn’t he? He would probably have killed you, but he heard the sirens and decided that he needed to escape.’ ‘Unless he actually wanted to be seen,’ said Ron, turning to Harry. ‘Perhaps he wanted to leave a witness, to be recognised. He must have known we’d turn up and investigate a burglary at Justin’s place.’ ‘He just vanished. Where did he go?’ Bobbie paused in thought. ‘Don’t tell me,’ she said with a sigh. ‘He turned himself invisible!’ ‘That’s how I managed to sneak up on you tonight, while you were sitting in your car,’ Harry told her. ‘Actually, it was a Disillusionment Charm because I didn’t have my cloak with me. But I don’t think that’s what the man you saw did. I think that he Disapparated–transported himself elsewhere. He needed to get out of the mews before he could do it, because there was an anti-apparition jinx on the place. There is often a bang when someone Disapparates. I think that’s what you heard, not a gunshot.’ Ron, Hermione and Ginny nodded in agreement. ‘You’re our best witness, and it seems to me that you’re a good investigator,’ Harry continued. ‘Perhaps you could help us?’ ‘Me, a good investigator?’ said Bobbie, shaking her head dismissively. ‘I don’t think so.’ ‘You found us, didn’t you?’ Harry asked. ‘And it’s obvious that you want to catch the killer. I do too. I’d like you to work with us, exchange information.’ ‘Harry,’ Hermione said. ‘You don’t have the authority.’ ‘You’re right,’ Harry told her, he drew his wand and said, ‘Expecto Patronum,’ a silver bird shot out from the end of his wand and streaked out of the kitchen. ‘I’ll ask Kingsley.’ ‘What was that?’ Bobbie asked as the bird flew up the stairs and through the door. ‘A phoenix, my Patronus. It used to be a stag, but since Ginny and I, well, we both… You don’t need to know that, it’s a long story. The Patronus can be used as method of communication. I’m contacting the Minister for Magic,’ said Harry. ‘Of course you are,’ said Bobbie acidly. Her stomach knotted as she suddenly began to fear that he may, in fact, be telling the truth. Harry looked at her anxiously. ‘I know that it’s a lot to take in,’ he said. ‘If you want me to work with you,’ said Bobbie. ‘Let me try to identify the blonde guy I saw.’ Although confused and intrigued by Harry’s offer, she continued to question them. ‘You said that you had three names. Do you think that he could be one of them? I got a good look at him. I should be able to tell you which one it was.’ ‘It’s not that easy,’ Harry told her, ‘I’m fairly certain that the person you saw looked like Draco Malfoy. But I’m also certain that it wasn’t him. Ron and I have spoken to him.’ Ron gave a smug smile, and nodded. ‘He wasn’t at Justin’s place,’ Harry told Bobbie. ‘He’s under guard, and he was at home at the time. Besides, he’s never killed anyone. And if he had, I’d know, because he’s using my spare wand. Plus, his mother’s in charge now and she’s working hard to improve the families influence. They’ve had more than enough scandals.’ At that moment a silver lynx appeared in the room. It landed on the kitchen table, turned to Harry and spoke in a slow, deep voice. ‘Harry, I will personally authorise further contact with Constable Beadle. I would ask you to keep contact to a minimum. I would prefer if contact was restricted to yourself, and no one else. But if I’m any judge, Ginny, Ron and Hermione already know.’ The glowing semi-transparent lynx sighed, and somehow managed to look annoyed, but resigned. ‘Keep it between yourselves until I can speak to Robards. This is most irregular. I want you in my office at eight o’clock tomorrow, Auror Potter. That is an order,’ the lynx finished sternly. It then vanished. ‘That was Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Minister for Magic,’ Harry explained to an open mouthed Bobbie. ‘At least it was his Patronus.’ They continued talking for hours, answering the dozens of questions Bobbie asked. By midnight Bobbie had heard a short history of the defeat of Tom Riddle. She had also, by asking the same question in different ways at different times, tried to find a flaw in their story. She had failed. Either this was the most bizarre, and well rehearsed cover story she’d ever heard, complete with special effects to make her believe it, or the four were actually telling her the truth. ‘I need to be back in Holyhead by nine tomorrow, Harry,’ announced Ginny when the clock struck twelve times. ‘Let’s go to bed.’ ‘Do you want to stay over?’ Harry asked the others. Ron and Hermione nodded, ‘Yeah, thanks, Harry.’ Harry looked at Bobbie. ‘I’m on early turn. I need to be at work in six hours. I’ll go home,’ she stood. ‘Take this,’ Harry offered, passing her a card containing his name, and a telephone number. ‘If you want to talk, phone the number. You won’t get me, but I will get your message.’ ‘Thanks,’ Bobbie picked up the card. ‘I’ll see you out,’ Ginny told her. Harry stood to follow, but with a glance, Ginny made it clear that she wanted to speak to Bobbie alone. He sat down. ‘Harry has decided to trust you,’ Ginny advised as they walked along the hall. ‘Do not betray that trust, it will hurt Harry, personally and professionally. I will not allow him to be hurt.’ Unable to think of a reply, Bobbie nodded mutely. ‘You’re not stupid,’ Ginny continued. ‘You must realise that no-one would believe you if you told them. Everyone would think you were crazy. You can’t mention this house, either. That’s not advice, that’s a fact. This place is magically protected. You’ll find that telling anyone will be impossible, and possibly painful, so don’t try. If you do talk about us, you’ll get Harry into a lot of trouble.’ ‘He’s…’ Bobbie began. ‘Much too trusting sometimes,’ Ginny interrupted fiercely. ‘I was going to say that he’s serious about justice, about right and wrong,’ Bobbie told her. ‘Riddle killed his parents, when he was a baby,’ said Ginny simply, as if that explained everything. She watched Bobbie descend the steps. ‘Goodnight, Bobbie.’ The door closed, but the house remained. Bobbie wondered if she would always be able to see it. |
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