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SIYE Time:21:29 on 28th March 2024
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Together
By glasscandlegrenades

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Category: Post-DH/AB
Characters:Harry/Ginny
Genres: Drama, General, Romance
Warnings: Death, Extreme Language, Intimate Sexual Situations, Mild Language, Mild Sexual Situations, Sexual Situations, Violence
Story is Complete
Rating: R
Reviews: 128
Summary: "I've had enough trouble for a lifetime," Harry Potter tells his friends after the Battle of Hogwarts. Life, however, is not done with Harry. The Wizarding community is left in chaos and it's up to Harry to fix it, and there's the small matter of repairing his relationship with Ginny, strained after months apart. Will Harry ever be able to settle and enjoy a simple life with the ones he loves?
Hitcount: Story Total: 59339; Chapter Total: 3589
Awards: View Trophy Room




Author's Notes:
I know, I’m full of crap. I’m sorry for how long it took to update. I love you all, and thank you in advance for any ratings and reviews. You are all fantastic. Chapter titled after the song by Soko.




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The Auror Office was buzzing with chatter as Harry stepped off the lift Monday morning. He could hear snippets of conversations: his coworkers mostly discussing how they had passed the week-long Easter Holiday. Harry felt no temptation to stop and join them, though his holiday had been exceptionally enjoyable.

The week had started with Ginny finally moving her things into his flat after the Harpies had failed to qualify for the League's finals. Ginny's spirits were rather low, but Harry's excitement of finally having her in the flat all the time was enough to rouse her from her upset at the defeat.

Further still, Teddy Lupin had come to stay with them on Thursday in a belated celebration of the boy's second birthday. Ginny had spent the day using her wand to adorn his tiny bedroom walls with extremely realistic dragons, which had delighted the toddler to no end.

"I didn't know you were able to draw like that," Harry had complimented.

"Er- yeah," Ginny had replied, the discomfort apparent in her voice.

"What?" Harry had asked.

"Dean Thomas taught me," she had admitted, blushing a bit. "He was always really artistic, making banners and things." She'd laughed at Harry's scowl.

Regardless, it had been a perfect week, and Harry knew he should've felt peaceful and relaxed as he made his way through the office. Yet he flew to his cubicle as quickly as possible, anxious to sift through the memos that had been deposited there over the holiday.

Ron was already sitting at his desk, bent over a report. He glanced up at Harry ask he passed through the cork half-walls of their station.

"Don't get your hopes up," Ron said, turning back to his paper. "There's nothing good from the holiday."

Harry sifted through a few memos sent through from the MACUSA reporting sights of the Lestranges near Miami.

"Florida?" Harry groaned in exasperation, holding a fistful of reports out in front of him. "How am I supposed to know which of these I'm meant to take seriously?".

"Perhaps we'll get a vacation out of it," Padma suggested, entering the cubicle and dumping her rucksack on the desk.

"Yeah, Robards'll definitely give us clearance to visit the sunny beaches after last year," Ron said, stretching back and putting his feet on Padma's chair. She picked up his legs by the ankles and dropped them back to the floor. At his own desk, Harry felt an odd twinge somewhere near his stomach that he was unsure how to identify.

He turned back to the memos on his desk; most of them detailing minor infractions that had been called in during the overnight shift. A small slip of parchment was stuffed amid the purple airplanes, and Harry picked it up eagerly.

It was a note from Bill, bidding him to lunch at the Leaky Cauldron this afternoon. Bill, attempting to secure a more stable life for his wife and unborn child, had decided to accept a management position at Gringotts, making his war-time desk job permanent and putting his Curse-breaking days officially behind him. It seemed, however, that Bill had grown quite bored in his new position, as he frequently solicited time during the workweek from his brothers and Harry.

As Harry scribbled out his reply on a piece of parchment before asking a passing secretary to post it back for him, he had to admit to himself that he didn't mind the new friendship. Bill had always been kind to Harry, and treated him with actual consideration, rather than just the friend of his kid brother, but there was a stark age gap between the two men, and spending time with Bill often made Harry rather anxious, as though he would suddenly be expected to buy a home in Cornwall and have a child in the next few months.

"But I'm his brother!" Ron said crossly, after Harry informed him that he wouldn't be able to listen to the Arrows game with Neville on their lunch break. "He never asks me to lunch!"

"Likely I'm just better company," Harry surmised, reading over a report on Antonin Dolohov, who had attempted to poison his Azkaban guard on Friday evening. "Damn it, I'm going to have to go all the way to Scotland to sort this! How the hell did he get aconite in the middle of the North Sea?"

"What?" Ron said, but Padma looked up from her blinking map.

"Wolfsbane's native to Scotland," she said. "It could grow on the grounds."

Ron chuckled darkly. "What was it you and Kingsley said about more outdoors time being reformative for prisoners?" he asked Harry sarcastically.

Harry groaned and banged his head on the desk.

"Don't be dramatic," Padma said. "I'll go to Azkaban today, but you owe me."

Harry smiled up at her, not lifting his head from the cool surface of the desk. "Thanks," he said.

"Yeah, well, I reckon we all owe you a few favors," she replied, gathering her things and marching out of the cubicle.

Harry sat back at his desk. It was nine now, and he and Ron decided to busy themselves with organizing the various reports of Lestrange and Rowle sightings, looking for patterns in the months since the skirmish in Barrowden. The work was boring and unsatisfying, and Harry found himself counting the minutes until he could go on his break. He never thought being an Auror would involve so much time sitting at a desk, but after a year of being qualified, he'd be surprised if he spent more than the equivalent of a few days actually in the field.

The clock struck twelve-thirty and Harry and Ron stood from their desks.

"I'm sure Bill wouldn't mind if you joined," Harry noted, gathering his things.

"Nah," Ron said. "I'm not about to miss the qualifying match to sit in a pub with you and Bill."

Harry understood Ron's hesitation. The semi-final match between the Tutshill Tornados and the Appleby Arrows would decide which played Puddlemere United in the final for the English National Cup. Harry had been forbidden from even mentioning the season in his flat.

Harry was clear to avoid any information that would clue him into the outcome of today's match as he situated himself comfortably in a booth of the Leaky Cauldron. Within moments, Bill Weasley was sliding himself in beside Harry.

"Glad you could meet me," he said curtly, gazing around the pub with a calculated irreverence.

"Sure," Harry said. Bill seemed odd, almost jittery, if Harry was being honest with himself. It seemed as though he was leaving the conversation entirely in Harry's court.

"It's bound to be any day now?" Harry wondered, knowing that Bill and Fleur's baby was meant to arrive around the holiday.

"Oh," Bill said, seeming genuinely surprised at Harry's comment, as though the birth of his child was far from his head. "Er, yes. Yes, any day now. Fleur says she's beyond ready."

He smiled mildly, and Harry raised his mouth in return.

"I expect you're not allowed to discuss Quidditch," Bill wondered as the barmaid brought Butterbeers to their table. Harry nodded, a smile on his lips.

"Ginny told me she's moved into your flat," Bill continued, smiling again. "Good luck hiding it from our mum."

Harry snorted. "Yeah, well, apparently we're quite fond of doing things on the down-low. And by 'we', I mean Ginny."

Bill laughed. "I made the mistake of showing off my relationship with Fleur in its early days. If I can give you or Ginny any advice, it would be to take the George and Angelina route."

Harry smiled and the two men were quiet for a moment, each taking a sip from their drinks.

"Well," Bill said. "If you can believe it, I asked you here for more than just to talk to you about your relationship with my sister."

"I can't pretend I'm not relieved to hear that," Harry joked, settling back. "I still have forty minutes before I need to be back."

Bill gazed into his tankard for a moment. "I'm unsure of how to best broach the subject," he admitted. "I returned to Gringotts today from the Easter holidays and was confronted with a surprising withdrawal on Friday."

"A withdrawal?" Harry asked. "From a suspicious account?"

Bill shook his head. "No," he said. "That's just it. We'd have notified the Auror Department immediately if it had been a monitored account. But it was the account of Dagmar Rowle and-"

Harry huffed in reply, realization dawning on him. "Don't bother," he cut across. "She's Thorfinn's great-aunt and has been interrogated about six times since the war. We made a huge effort to tie her down on some collusion charge after the war, but she was clean as a whistle."

"She took out a hundred thousand Galleons," Bill said. "She's been banking with us since the forties and closed the entire account. Surely that's-"

"She's within her right to do so," Harry interrupted again. For whatever reason, he felt frustration towards Bill bubble in the pit of his stomach. "Did she present proper identification?"

"She presented her wand for inspection," Bill said. "She was also visually confirmed by one of our desk goblins who has been managing her account for decades."

"I'm not sure I understand what the problem is," Harry said to Bill.

Bill sighed and raised his hand toward Tom, the toothless bartender, who was smiling happily at the pair of them. "There's not much of a problem," Bill said. "Only that I'm concerned the money is somehow making its way to her great-nephew."

"I'm concerned about that, too, but legally I can't make such a conjecture. All I've got from this conversation is that some batty old witch isn't going to continue banking with Gringotts."

"What do you want me to say?" Bill asked. "I thought this would be helpful information."

"It would be," Harry answered, "if we were capable of using it to consider her a suspect in Thorfinn's disappearance. But her banking is confidential information, and she appeared in person and presented her wand, and we're not already monitoring her account, so I can't use her closing her vault as a reason to bring her back in for questioning."

"Well," Bill said, rubbing his hands together. "I figured I should at least let you know."

Harry felt embarrassed for a moment at his own curtness. Bill wasn't trying to get a bit of glory or fancy himself an Auror. He was only trying to be helpful. Harry smiled at the older man and tossed a couple Sickles on the table between them.

"Perhaps Ginny and I could come to Shell Cottage before the baby comes," he said to Bill, standing and gathering his things. "I've been meaning to pay a visit to Dobby's grave."

"Fleur would love that," Bill replied, standing as well. "She's going a bit stir crazy. But if you do, please don't say anything about how big she's gotten."

"I wouldn't dare," Harry laughed, shaking Bill's hand and turning to leave the pub.

He was thoughtful on his walk back to the Ministry, unable to shake the anxious pit in his stomach. He entered his cubicle to find Neville sitting on his desk, a Snitch flying around the room as he spoke to Ron animatedly.

"Harry," Neville said happily. "Alright?"

"Yeah," Harry murmured, his brow creased in upset.

"'Yeah' my arse," Ron said. "How was lunch with Bill?"

Harry explained Bill's revelation to Ron and Neville, who were silent through his description. When he finished Neville cleared his throat.

"It is bizarre," he said, pulling at the neck of his robes. "I'll go see if Ernie's able to grab her file, and we can go over it again, just in case."

Harry nodded, knowing already that they wouldn't find anything.

Ron gave Harry a concerned look. "Are you sure you're alright?" he asked his friend.

"Yeah," Harry said. "I'm just not sure what to do."

"Why don't you just pay her a visit?" Ron said. "Auror business, you know?"

"Because Bill shouldn't have ever told me in the first place. If it was an official communication between Gringotts and our department, that'd be one thing, but I can't just go hammering on some old witch's door saying 'my best mate's brother's gone and told me you've closed your bank account.'"

"Come up with some excuse," Ron said. "Tell Robards you want to pay home visits to all relatives of former Death Eaters, he'll let you."

"A bit old regime, isn't that?" Ernie asked, entering the cubicle with Neville and holding a thin manila folder.

Ron raised a hand in greeting.

"Dagmar Rowle," Ernie read, opening the file. "Pureblood. Born Dagmar Hrolf in Frankfurt, year 1910. Educated at Durmstrang Institute. Emigrated with Mads Hrolf, her brother and Thorfinn's grandfather, to Orkney in 1940, listed her reason for leaving Germany as Grindelwald's presence there. They all changed their names to Rowle in Orkney. She's never been married and has no children."

"If she's Pureblood, why was she fleeing Grindelwald?" Ron wondered. "I thought it was Muggles that bloke was after?"

Ernie shrugged, shutting the file. "That's all we have on her. Interrogation revealed nothing. We brought her into the office for the first time in December of '98 and she complained she hadn't left her cottage since the sixties. She didn't even know she had a great-nephew, let alone that he was a murderous Death Eater."

None of this information made the pit in Harry's stomach feel any better. Ron went back to his report and Ernie and Neville made their way back to their own cubicle. Harry found himself unable to finish any of his tasks, and by the time five o'clock hit, he practically ran out of the office.

This didn't do him much good though, as the moment he got to the lift it opened to reveal Hermione, who smiled brightly over his shoulder. Harry turned to see that Ron was standing just behind him, and with a sinking realization remembered that he and Ginny were hosting his best friends for dinner that night.

"Are you ready?" Hermione asked brightly, beckoning them into the lift. "I figured it would be quickest if we all Flooed."

"Wait until you hear about the day we've had," Ron grumbled, pushing Harry forward.

"Save it for Ginny," Hermione warned. "She's going mental with the season over, some drama will be good for her."

Harry sighed as they reached the Atrium, the trio walking towards the great stone fireplaces. Harry stepped in first, being quickly deposited into his sitting room, where Ginny reached out a hand and yanked him up, brushing soot off his robes.

"Alright?" she asked breathlessly.

"Just you wait," he said, stepping forward as Ron tumbled in after him, quickly followed by Hermione.

"We're having chicken!" Ginny cried happily. "I made it myself, and I bought good wine, too."

Ron and Hermione both smiled in appreciation as Harry went to the bedroom to change out of his robes. It was funny, he thought, how things changed as he got older. In school he craved the company of Ron and Hermione more than anything, but now, as he'd aged, he preferred to spend his evenings in his cozy flat, with only the company of Ginny.

He threw on jeans and a t-shirt and made his way back into the dinner room, where Ginny was setting dishes down on the table. Ron and Hermione murmured their thanks, and Harry couldn't help but smile at how excessively proud Ginny looked at her creation. He sat at the table and scooted forward, pouring himself a generous measure of wine.

Ginny returned to the table bearing beer for herself and Ron, and they all commenced eating their dinner with little fanfare.

"Do you want to tell them about Bill today, or should I?" Ron asked Harry.

Hermione and Ginny dropped their forks in unison.

"Has Fleur had the baby?" they cried simultaneously.

Harry and Ron shook their heads in great haste.

"Bill called me to lunch today with some news from Gringotts," Harry said, and leaned in conspiratorially as he described the conversation to Ginny and Hermione. They both seemed concerned, if not surprised.

"And there's nothing you can do?" Hermione probed.

"There's plenty we can try," Harry said. "I don't see anything doing much good, though."

Ginny's brow furrowed. "That doesn't sound like you at all."

Harry didn't say anything, trying to ignore the ever-gnawing pit in his stomach.

Hermione took a long drink from her wine. The silence nearly became unbearable until Ron spoke.

"What if we went, just us, to scope out the Aunt's house?" he suggested over his beer.

"We could be apprehended for trespassing," Harry reminded him, idly bringing some chicken to his mouth. He looked up to see Ginny gazing at him shrewdly. "We'd need a warrant from Robards first."

"Suddenly you care so much about the rules?" she wondered.

"Look," Harry said, putting down his fork. "The thing in Barrowden was a fucking nightmare. I still can't get Kingsley to look me in the eye and it's been eight months. I'm not trying to single-handedly cause yet another Ministry disaster, alright?"

Ron looked at Ginny with his eyes raised, and Harry could see he was trying not to smile. Hermione frowned. Ginny all but winked back at her brother before letting out a long, deep breath.

"I'd like to go," she said.

"You don't even work for the Ministry," Hermione said. Ginny smiled, shrugging her shoulders.

Harry felt himself suddenly seethe. "Why are you being so cavalier about this?" he asked her sharply. "D'you have any idea how dangerous it could be?"

"I'm not being cavalier," she fired back stoically. "But you've been moaning for months about having no leads and now Bill's gone and given you one."

"Bill's given me nothing!" Harry said. "Bill's given me an old lady withdrawing money from a bank!"

"You used to run off on less," Ginny reminded him.

"Ginny," Hermione said sharply. "It's not easy, after what happened last year."

"Oh, Bludger that," Ron said, standing from his chair. "It's personal with Rowle. I'm tired of the bureaucracy, honestly. I think I'll go, and there's an open invitation to the rest of you lot."

Ginny smiled at her brother and looked to the others.

"Well, there's no time like the present," she said, getting up from her chair. "Are you coming, Harry? Hermione?"

Hermione threw Ron a beseeching look.

"Now? Why?" she asked her husband.

"Because this is what we do," Ron said firmly, looking to Ginny. She turned towards her brother, her hair covering her face so that Harry couldn't see her. When she looked back to him, her hard stare pierced into him.

"You have the best instincts of anyone I've ever known," Ginny said, and something about her frankness made Harry blush. "Do you really believe that all of that money being withdrawn has nothing to do with Rowle?"

Harry felt a moment of anger at being questioned, yet again, but her blazing expression continued to bore into him, and he felt his own gaze become more clear. Of course he found it suspicious; of course he believed it was connected to Rowle. Harry knew he had been trying, without really realizing that he was trying, to play the straight game, to put Rowle out of his head, because it was his impulsivity that had gotten Ron so terribly hurt last summer. But he also knew that Ginny was right, that his sense of when to go running off after the darkest of wizards was almost nearly impeccable.

"I suppose we should go," Harry said. Hermione sighed and looked out the window onto the street below.

Ron smiled, clapping his hands together. "Just like old times," he said.



The sun was setting as the four wizards rematerialized before Kirkwall Harbor. Harry felt Ginny stumble as she appeared on the curb beside him; he reached out to steady her, and then pulled her into a brief embrace.

"Stay close to me," he murmured, entwining their fingers. She nodded into his chest.

"Right," Harry said, looking up to Ron. "Where are we going?"

Ron grabbed a slip of parchment from the depths of his robes and consulted the writing.

"Dagmar Rowle, Victoria Lane," Ron read confidently, depositing the slip back into his pocket. "Let's go."

They traveled down the narrow roads of Kirkwall, all aware of even the slightest sounds or movements. It was hardly eight, and yet most curtains were drawn and they ran into no other people on the street. Harry felt miserable, unable to help being reminded of their trek into Barrowden, which had been utterly boring under his team had suddenly found themselves under attack from every side. He felt Ginny squeeze his hand under his cloak, and he gratefully returned the pressure. He couldn't explain why he felt safer having her present, but he knew that together, nothing would happen to them.

They passed storefronts and homes, the streets becoming smaller as they moved from the harbor. All four jumped as a cat upset a dustbin on the side of the road, but Ron shushed them as he pointed to the street sign above them, indicating they had reached their destination.

Victoria Lane was hardly a roadway, rather more of an alley that was lined on one side by whitewashed cottages and on the other by a chest-high stone wall, behind which was a vast garden, complemented with hanging laundry.

"Quaint," Harry said as Ron walked along the way of the cottages.

"I think this is it," he whispered, reaching a green door. Hermione hurried anxiously to him, standing at his side.

"Lumos," Ginny whispered, raising her wand. The others followed suit.

Gently, Harry raised his hand, tapping quietly at the door. They waited a few moments, but there was no response.

"Try again?" Ginny suggested.

Ron scoffed. "Yeah, right," he said, aiming his wand at the door knob. It unlocked with a click, and Harry opened the door.

The first thing he noticed was the smell. It was like rotting food, perhaps eggs, mixing with feces. Beside him, Hermione retched.

Ginny waved her wand and several handkerchiefs appeared. Each grabbed one out of the air and pressed it to his or her face, and Harry led them forward into the tiny sitting room.

"Someone's definitely croaked in here," Ron said, his voice muffled from the kerchief.

Ginny nodded solemnly, raising her lighted wand so that it shown across the living area. There was a small loveseat and chair positioned in front of a fireplace, a wooden table and chair, and an old-fashioned stove. The room could've been from the eighteenth century, but this wasn't unusual by wizarding standards.

What was unusual was that nearly every surface, including the floor, was covered by books; novels, pamphlets, and encyclopaedias of every variety. They weren't laid out with the careful and yet chaotic nature of an eccentric bookworm, but rather as though they had been shaken out and then thrown across their room when their contents hadn't revealed the desired information.

Ginny stepped around the piles of literature to a small door in the corner that Harry had not noticed. She opened it gingerly, as if the knob would burn her flesh, but her shoulders visibly relaxed as she took in the contents of the next room.

"Harry," she called. "She's - she's here."

Harry knew from Ginny's tone that she had discovered Dagmar Rowle, or whatever was presently left of her.

Hermione reached the doorway first, then Ron, and then Harry. The great wrought iron bed frame bore a body that was clearly in the later stages of decay, for it was badly bloated, and the room was full of flies. Hermione gasped and turned away, and Ron placed a bracing hand on her shoulder.

"How can we be sure that's Dagmar?" Hermione asked.

"I've seen her," Ron said. "I saw her two of the times that they brought her into the office for questioning."

He stepped forward towards the bed, clutching his handkerchief even closer to his nose as he peer into the grotesque face resting on the lace pillow.

"It's her," he confirmed, looking back at them.

"Does she look injured?" Hermione asked.

Harry wasn't concerned much about Dagmar's physical appearance. The moment they entered the house and were confronted with the smell of death, he began to treat the area like a crime scene. Wizarding murders typically left very few clues on the actual body.

"I want to find her wand," Harry mumbled to Ginny. His girlfriend nodded, and set about sifting through all the items scattered across the nightstand and vanity table, opening drawers and cabinets.

"It looks like a Killing Curse," Ron said, stepping back from the body. Besides him, Hermione nodded solemnly.

"Harry," a voice said sharply. Harry turned to see Ginny peering onto the floor of the closet, looking extremely concerned. "Harry, come see this."

Harry moved quickly across the room to stand at Ginny's shoulder, looking down to where she was pointing.

A cauldron sat on the floor of the wardrobe, and its contents were a thick and mud-like potion that was terribly familiar.

"Bill said Dagmar Rowle closed her account on Friday?" Ginny asked.

"Yeah," Harry said uneasily. "Yeah, he did."

"And she presented her wand for inspection?" Hermione questioned.

Ron nodded. Hermione stepped forward to inspect Dagmar's body for a second time.

"Friday was just over three days ago," Hermione said. "I don't know much about the decomposition of corpses, but I doubt Dagmar was living three days ago."

"There's no wand anywhere I can see," Ginny said. "If she died of natural causes wouldn't it likely be around her somewhere?"

"Likely," Ron said.

"Shouldn't we alert the Ministry?" Hermione asked, her voice sounding slightly strangled. "Or at least send a Patronus to Kingsley? This is a murder scene. It's not just checking out the old witch, is it?"

"Hermione's right," Harry said. "Why don't we get Kingsley down here and figure out our next step."

"I'll send the message," Ron said. "Let's get out of this bleeding room, shall we?"

They all nodded in assent, and Ginny led the way from the bedroom back into the sitting room, shutting the door firmly behind them. Ron went out into the garden, ostensibly to send Kingsley a Patronus, though Harry privately suspected he simply wanted to escape the stench of death that permeated the house.

Ginny and Hermione had both busied themselves by rifling through the papers covering every inch of the sitting room, and Hermione held up an old volume curiously to the light cast by Ginny's wand.

"This one was open on the coffee table," Hermione told Harry as he approached. "It hadn't been flung about like the others."

"What's it called?" Harry asked curiously. Hermione stuck a finger onto the open page and flipped the cover of the book over it. Ginny brought her wandlight closer.

"Great Wizarding Families of Scandinavia," Hermione read before flipping the book open again to the marked spot. "It's open to the page on the Rowle family."

Harry looked over her shoulder as she traced her finger down the page.

"Someone's circled all the relatives educated at Durmstrang," he said.

"It seems like most of them," Hermione noted.

"And?" Ginny said, as Ron reentered the house. "I assume most Scandinavian wizards and witches are educated at Durmstrang."

"But why would someone circle it?" Harry wondered.

"Kingsley's on his way," Ron said.

"I want to keep looking around," Hermione said. Harry nodded, setting about picking up other titles and examining them for anything suspicious.

"None of this makes any sense," Harry muttered under his breath. "Why would he leave the place such a mess. He had to know that closing out that account would arouse suspicion."

Ron shook his head. "Kingsley was at Azkaban when my Patronus found him. Apparently the aconite had been added to all of the food and water sources used by the guards; the whole place is a mess. If I had to guess, I'd say that our friend Dolohov was creating some kind of distraction for Rowle to get out."

"So you think he's gone?" Harry asked.

"Well, he's certainly not here," Ron said.

"Harry," Ginny said urgently, her voice far more alert than when she had found the stash of Polyjuice Potion. Harry's heart leapt and he turned towards her again.

"Look at this," she said, holding up a wrinkled envelope. Harry stepped closer to read the address on the front.

Mr. Filen Hornwort

Victoria Lane, Kirkwall

Orkney


"Filen Hornwort?" Harry asked.

"Probably had a rough time on the schoolyard," Ron said. "Where's it from?"

Ginny flipped the envelope over, her eyes widening. "Irina Sokolova, Headmistress, Durmstrang Institute," she read, looking up at Harry in terror.

"So someone living here was getting mail from Durmstrang?" Harry asked.

"How do you spell Filen Hornwort?" Hermione asked.

Ginny handed her the envelope. She read it intently, before handing it back.

"So why was Filen staying here and getting mail from the Headmistress of Durmstrang?" Ron asked.

"Thorfinn Rowle," Hermione said.

"What?" Ginny asked.

"Thorfinn Rowle," Hermione repeated. "Filen Hornwort and Thorfinn Rowle; both names use the same letters the same number of times."

"What?" Harry said. "Give the envelope here!"

Ginny frowned at his command, but handed the envelope back to him nonetheless. Harry opened it, already knowing it would be empty, turned it over several times.

"Okay," Ron said. "Now we're getting somewhere. Why was Thorfinn Rowle staying here and getting mail from the Headmistress of Durmstrang?"

"Who cares why!" Harry exclaimed. "We need to go, now."

"Go?" Ginny asked. "Go where?"

"Durmstrang," Harry said. "To talk to this Sokolova woman and figure out what the hell she was sending to Filen Hornwort."

"Harry," Hermione began slowly as Ron rolled his eyes. Ginny, however, was smiling.

"Glad to have you back," she said gratefully.

Ron and Hermione ignored her.

"Harry," Hermione began again. "We're meant to be waiting for Kingsley to see what he wants us to do about Dagmar."

"Nevermind that," Harry said. "He's got nearly four days on us. We might actually be able to get him, Hermione. We've got to get to Durmstrang."

Ron frowned. "Someone needs to wait for Kingsley and explain to him what's going on. We don't want another repeat of Barrowden."

Harry nodded, already itching to leave.

"I'll stay," Hermione said. "You three go."

"What!" Ron cried gallantly. "You can't stay here by yourself."

"You and Harry need to go," Hermione said. "You're both trained to deal with this. I'm not. And I can tell by Ginny's face she's not letting Harry go anywhere without her."

"Oh, but you're alright with me going without you?" Ron asked.

"I know you'll be okay," Hermione said confidently.

"I'm staying," Ron said firmly. "Harry and Ginny can go to Durmstrang."

"No," Hermione said. "There's no danger here. I can take care of myself and Kingsley will be here any moment. Go, you lot."

"Hermione-," Ron began.

"Go," Hermione interrupted, swallowing thickly. "Don't you dare let anything happen to him, Harry. I'll be fine here with old stinky."

"Are you trying to make a joke?" Ron asked. Hermione laughed and kissed him.

"Go," she said, breaking away. "I'll join you when I've spoken to Kingsley."

Ron, Harry and Ginny walked from the house and Disapparated with three loud cracks.



It was nearing midnight as Harry, Ron, and Ginny made their way through a winding path towards the great castle of Durmstrang. It was more imposing than Hogwarts, despite being smaller. There were no towers, only great stone walls with small windows. Some had candles lit, and Harry wondered if the students here were studying late into the night for final examinations as he once had.

"I thought this castle was meant to be Unplottable," Ginny said as they made their way closer and closer from the thicket where they had Apparated.

"Luckily," Ron said pompously. "Your beloved older brother is in charge of keeping tabs on all international Dark Arts affiliates. The Institute itself believes it to be Unplottable, but Ministry Intelligence uncovered the location years ago, and it was in my cubicle waiting for me when I started in the office. Some suggested my responsibility wasn't as glamorous as, say, prison reforms," here, he shot a smug sidelong glance at Harry, "but here we are."

"Alright, Percy," Ginny smirked. "Good job blowing intelligence the Ministry's been saving for years."

Ron flushed red, but they were approaching the great doors to the castle now, which swung open in invitation.

Unlike Hogwarts, which often seemed vast and imposing from the outside, but warm and merry within, the Entrance Hall of Durmstrang was like a prison. Candles burned in candelabras hanging from the ceiling, but the walls were devoid of tapestry and the floors had no rugs.

"How do you think we find the Headmistress' office?" Ginny wondered. But they had little time to contemplate that question, for a man in a thick fur coat was approaching them. He was short, with a small pointed beard, and looked startlingly familiar to Harry.

"Hva vil du?" the man asked aggressively, raising his wand at the trio. Harry instinctively pushed Ginny behind him, reaching towards his pocket, but before he could even grasp the thin, holly handle, Ginny's wand was drawn out in front of him.

"We're here to see the Headmistress," she said firmly.

The man's eyes widened in surprise. "English?" he asked.

Ron nodded.

"We were surprised to see you pass through our Concealment Charms," the man admitted in heavily accented English. "I am Poliakoff, groundskeeper here at Durmstrang."

Harry realized suddenly why the man seemed so familiar; he had come to Hogwarts for the Triwizard Tournament when the false Moody had put Harry's name into the Goblet. Harry instinctively smoothed his hair over his scar. Poliakoff caught the motion and his eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"Poliakoff," Harry said. "We are delegates from the British Ministry of Magic. We're here to speak with your Headmistress on a matter of international importance."

Harry thought he sounded rather smooth, but Poliakoff didn't lower his wand.

"Certainly," the groundskeeper said. "If you will follow me."

Ron turned to Harry, raising his eyebrows. This seemed nearly too easy. Harry continued fingering his wand in his pocket as the trio followed Poliakoff down a long corridor.

"I must ask, how did you manage to locate our castle?" Poliakoff asked them. Neither Harry, nor Ron, nor Ginny answered. Poliakoff seemed unperturbed.

They reached a staircase at the end of the long corridor and Poliakoff led them up. They were deposited in a vast hallway, and Ginny gasped audibly at the image that they were confronted with.

The wall before them had the sign of the Deathly Hallows carved into it, reaching from floor to ceiling. Harry froze at the sight, though he was unsurprised. Viktor Krum had told Harry of the existence of this mark years ago. Still, it was an imposing thing to behold, and Harry's mind flashed to Grindelwald. The reason Dagmar Rowle had fled Germany. They were in the northernmost reaches of Norway now. Grindelwald's reach had been vast.

Harry closed his eyes for a moment, as though he had anticipating that his scar would suddenly begin to hurt, but Poliakoff had not noticed the reaction from Harry, Ron, and Ginny. Continuing to walk on, Ron gestured that Harry and Ginny needed to keep up, so Ginny grabbed Harry's hand and pulled him along.

Finally, they reached the end of a particularly long corridor that displayed a great wooden door at its culmination. There was a notice board next to the door with a great list written in a Cyrillic alphabet that Harry couldn't identify.

"Wait here, please," Poliakoff bid them, before opening the door a crack and letting himself into the chamber beyond.

The moment the door shut behind him, Harry turned to the others.

"We're not safe here," he said. "They're far too comfortable with our presence, which means they're not expecting us to leave."

Ron swore quietly, but Harry raised his wand and pointed it at the notice board.

"Revelio," he muttered. The words on the board were quickly transfigured into English.

"He's here," Ginny said excitedly, reading faster than Harry could. "Filen Hornwort, Office 232."

"Let's go," Harry said, yanking out the Invisibility Cloak.

"You're joking," Ron said. "We can't all fit under there."

"You and Ginny then," Harry said. "I'll walk alongside and if anyone says anything I'll pretend I got lost."

"Oh, that makes a load of sense," Ginny whispered. "The most recognizable wizard in the world just happens to be walking around lost inside Durmstrang. You two go under the Cloak and I'll play the fool. People tend to assume women are confused anyways."

They were losing time, and instead of arguing with her, Harry threw the Cloak over himself and Ron.

They made their way down the halls, back the way they had come, with Ginny silently revealing all of the numbers to the classrooms and offices along the way.

"We're heading in the right direction," she mumbled in the direction of the invisible Harry and Ron.

It was late, and thankfully they met no others on their way. Office 232 was located on the building's third floor. They reached it quickly, and Harry pulled the cloak off of himself and Ron.

"Right," Harry said. "What's our plan of action?"

"Walk in and see if he's there," Ron said, cracking his knuckles.

"Great," Harry said, raising his wand and pointing it at the door. Behind him, Ron and Ginny did the same. The knob unlocked with a click.

"Here goes nothing," Harry said.

They walked into the office. The room was devoid of any embellishment, home to only a desk and a chair. A briefcase sat on the desk.

"F. Hornwort," Ron confirmed, moving over to read the label embossed on the front of the bag.

"Look," Ginny said, gesturing to the door in the corner of the room. Harry felt his heart jump. If it was really Rowle, and he was just there, this nightmarish saga could finally be over.

Ron drew his wand high and aimed it at the door. Harry did the same, and Ginny cast the spell that caused it to swing open.

Harry rushed forward and Ron flicked his wand, causing the lamps on the walls to alight. Harry was startlingly reminded of the day of Ron's injury.

The light revealed a bed, and the figure who had moments earlier been asleep sat up quickly.

Thorfinn Rowle reached for his wand on the nightstand, but Harry disarmed him quickly, and Ginny reached up to catch the wand as it hurled towards her boyfriend.

"Fancy seeing you here," Harry said. "Get up."

Rowle had the decency to look shocked for a moment, but quickly set his face with a hard sneer, throwing back the blankets and standing from the bed. He slept in not nighthings but traditional professors robes. It struck Harry as being particularly sinister.

"You've come a long way, Potter," Rowle said.

"You didn't make it particularly difficult to track you down," Harry answered.

Rowle sighed. "No, I suppose I didn't," he admitted. "I committed two years after the war to wreaking as much havoc as possible, but even I got tired of doing so without purpose."

"You were hoping to make a quiet exit?" Ginny wondered. "Come here to lead a simple life teaching Dark Arts to Swedish children."

"I've long admired the philosophy of the Institute," Rowle said. "When I saw the position was open I saw fit to apply."

"You've just given up?" Harry asked. "After two years on the run?"

"I figured I could do more for our mission out of Azkaban than within," Rowle answered, stretching.

"You didn't try to fight until the end?" Ginny asked.

Rowle smiled. It was an ugly sight, reminding Harry somewhat of Umbridge.

"Who says I didn't fight until the end?" he asked.

"You're here now. You were there, in the Forest. We captured everyone who was in the castle when Voldemort died," Harry said, raising his wand and noting Rowle's flinch at his old master's name. It brought Harry a definite satisfaction. "You saw the spell hit me, and you saw me come back. Is that why you ran?"

"I left long before you revealed yourself in the Great Hall," Rowle admitted again, looking nearly reflective for a moment. "When the Longbottom boy killed Nagini. I myself believed that snake, so dear to the Dark Lord, to be indestructible. I knew then that I would make it my imperative to survive the Battle so that I could carry out the Dark Lord's wishes for as long as possible."

"Some would call you a coward," Ron murmured from his place near the door. Harry turned, having nearly forgotten his best friend was even in the cramped bedroom. Ron's expression was unreadable.

Rowle looked unperturbed. "Some would," he agreed quietly. "As I said, I thought it better to remain operative than fight to the death. I believe the effects of my efforts are apparent here, though."

He gestured to Ron as he finished speaking, and a look near excitement crossed his rosy face.

"I imagine the scar must be very long," he said.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Ron stiffen just as his vision clouded over with red. His own hand flew to his wand, ready to blast Rowle into nothingness, but some unforeseen force stopped him. He turned to Ron.

"Do you want to take over?" Harry asked his best friend through gritted teeth.

Ron, who had gone quite pale, merely shook his head, and Harry turned back to the Death Eater.

"You're under arrest," Harry said evenly. "For the murder of Dagmar Rowle, for the murders of the wizards at the memorial unveiling, for the imprisonment, torture, and murder of innumerable Muggles and Muggle-born wizards during the war."

Ron stepped forward. "Incarcerous," he said, aiming his wand at Rowle. Thick cords sprung from Ron's wand, wrapping themselves around Rowle's hands and ankles.

Ron opened his mouth again.

"Hold on," Harry said, looking Rowle in the eye.

"The Azkaban guard?" Harry asked. "Did you set Dolohov up to poison him so you'd have a distraction to run?"

Rowle smiled his wide, sickening smile. "How would I have managed that?" he wondered. Harry rolled his eyes.

"Silencio," Ron said, and Rowle was quieted.

Harry looked at the other two. For two years of chasing down this madman, the entire arrest had seemed eerily anti-climatic. Ginny looked frightened, and Harry was tempted for a moment to comfort her. She quickly revealed the nature of her concerns.

"How the hell are we supposed to get out of here?" Ginny asked.

"We could talk our way out," Ron suggested. "He's a citizen of Britain; he's under arrest. Trying to stop us could cause an international catastrophe."

"Something tells me these people don't care much about that," Ginny said shortly.

"Merlin," Harry said. "Can we stop bickering for five minutes?!" He took the Cloak from Ron's hands and threw it over Rowle.

"Don't let go of him," Harry warned.

Ron nodded.

"Let's go," Harry said, stomping out of the bedroom and into the office. He cracked open the door to the corridor before throwing a glance back to Ron and Ginny. Ron looked utterly suspicious, holding onto what appeared to be thin air.

"Fuck," Harry muttered.

"Just go," Ginny said. Harry marched into the hallway, followed by Ron, Ginny, and the invisible Rowle. They had made it down the only the first flight of stairs before a voice cried out from behind them.

"You!" Poliakoff cried. "You left the Headmistresses office!"

"Er-," Ron said, closing his eyes in distress. "Er- yes, or Minister made contact with us and said that this issue was resolved, we were instructed to return to Britain immediately. If you'll excuse us-"

"Certainly," Poliakoff said in his thickly accented English. "But I'm afraid you must comply with a Memory Modification charm. It is our Institute's policy, you see, for visitors to have their memories wiped at the end of a visit, so that no Durmstrang secrets are revealed to those who are undeserving of such information."

Ron looked at Harry in terror for a minute just as Harry watched Ginny step forward and raise her wand.

"Stupefy!" she cried, and Poliakoff collapsed.

"Fuck, Ginny!" Ron said. "Some warning would've been nice."

"GO!" Ginny cried, waving her wand at the space where Rowle stood, bound and gagged.

"Petrificus Totalus!" she cried. "Wingardium Leviosa!"

The air shifted slightly as the invisible form of Rowle was immobilized and floated into the air.

"You'll have to push him, Ron," Ginny said, setting off at a run, with Harry and Ron flying behind her.

They made their way past the sign of the Deathly Hallows, down the first staircase and into the Durmstrang Entrance Hall.

The doors flew open, and Harry allowed himself to feel relief as he turned to watch Ron dragging Rowle along. They were really going to make it. They really had him.

They tumbled out onto the grounds, still at a sprinting pace, and made for the boundary of the campus.

Harry could see the thicket they had Apparated into when the first beam of light soared over their heads.

"Get down!" Harry cried, and Ginny immediately ducked, but not before a second jet of light collided with her face.

"Ginny!" Harry said, as she cried out, turning to run towards her.

"It's just a scratch," she panted, wiping blood off her cheek. "Keep going!"

Harry did not want to think what it could've been if the caster had sent anything more sinister than Diffindo, but suddenly they had made it to the copse, Ron's hands still clutching the invisible Rowle, and Harry pulled the Cloak off the Death Eater at the same time that Ginny grabbed her boyfriend and her brother, turning on the spot.

Harry's face collided with the cool, marble floor of the Atrium.

"Thank God!" a voice cried from above them, and suddenly Harry was yanked from the ground and pulled into the grip of Hermione, Ron crushed beside him. Harry looked around desperately for Ginny, who had landed a few feet away and was holding the sleeve of her t-shirt to the gash in her cheek. Harry extracted himself from Hermione's grip to run towards her, just as Kingsley Shacklebolt ran by and waved his wand at Rowle, who's bonds were resecured with additional cords.

"You're okay?" Harry asked Ginny, oblivious to the other bodies in the Atrium, far too many for this hour of night, that were beginning to clamor around the immobile form of Rowle.

"I'm fine," she said, smiling weakly. "Really, Harry, it's just a scratch."

"I've got dittany somewhere," Harry said, shoving his hands in his pockets. He pulled them out to realize that they were shaking.

Ginny reached out and grabbed them. "I'm fine," she said again. "You're not the only one who's allowed to have scars."

Harry smiled weakly. Ginny pulled herself up a bit more from the ground and gestured behind him. "You did it," she said. "You got him."

"Me?" Harry asked, not tearing his eyes from her. "You were incredible."

Ginny smiled happily. "It felt good to stretch my legs again."

Suddenly Kingsley was towering over the pair. "Alright, you two?" he asked, proffering a hand to each of them. They both declined, pushing themselves up from the ground and standing. Robards and Savage were hovered anxiously around Rowle, still floating prone in the air above the Atrium's tile floor. Several Unspeakables had also been called to the scene, though Harry could not fathom why. As he contemplated the scene, a lift opened and a team of Hit Wizards poured out.

"We want him held in the Wizengamot chambers for trial until we can sort the aconite at Azkaban," Kingsley announced to the Hit wizards. On nodded, reaching forward to grab Rowle. Hermione pulled Ron back.

An Unspeakable suddenly leaned forward and spit at Thorfinn's face.

"Murderer!" he cried.

Harry felt livid. If himself, Ron, and Hermione could keep themselves composed throughout this debacle, why were others unable to? He felt Ginny's hand suddenly on his back, a calming presence as they made their way through the Atrium.

"Let's go home," she said, steering him towards the fireplaces. Harry nodded, suddenly feeling crushed with how exhausted he was.

Ginny raised a hand in silent farewell to Hermione, who was similarly directing a dazed Ron to a different fireplace.

Ginny pushed him into the grate, tossing the Floo powder for him as she called their address.

Harry stepped out into the sitting room quickly, collapsing onto the settee as Ginny followed. The sun was just beginning to rise over the surrounding rooftops. Ginny regarded it silently for a moment.

"That was easier than it should've been," Harry said, articulating what had been on his mind since they'd entered Rowle's bedroom.

"I know," Ginny said quietly. "I don't think he intended to be a hold-out for too long. He seemed tired."

"I just can't help but think of the Lestranges," Harry said. "I'm trying to feel pleased about what we just accomplished but…."

"But Rowle had given up," Ginny said. "And Rodolphus and Rabastan never will."

"Never," Harry said. "It's the two year anniversary of the Battle."

Ginny snorted. "Did you think I could forget?" she asked him.

Harry stood from the settee and walked towards the bedroom. Ginny followed.

"I suppose… I just wish… I don't know, with today being today, and with everything that just happened, I wish I could feel more relief," Harry admitted. "More closure."

Ginny didn't speak.

"Well," Harry said, feeling bad for harping on. "Small victories, right? Anyways, it hardly matters now. I just need sleep."

"Go," Ginny said. "I'll bring tea."

However, they were both prevented from their goals by an old Barn owl hooting at the window. Ginny cranked the glass open, and the owl lifted his leg to reveal a roll of parchment. Ginny snatched it up and read it quickly, her face turning from confused to concerned to positively delighted in mere seconds.

"Poor Harry," she said, her voice rife with happiness. "You're going to have to delay sleep a few hours longer."

"How d'you figure?" Harry asked dubiously, stripping off a sock and throwing it across the bedroom, where it missed the hamper pathetically.

"We're going to Shell Cottage," Ginny said, handing the parchment over to him. "Fleur had the baby just after midnight. A girl."

Harry groaned, falling back onto the bed.
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