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Hollow Ash
By FloreatCastellum

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Category: Post-Hogwarts
Characters:Harry/Ginny, Neville Longbottom, Other
Genres: Drama
Warnings: Dark Fiction, Death, Disturbing Imagery, Extreme Language, Mild Language, Mild Sexual Situations, Sexual Situations, Spouse/Adult/Child Abuse, Violence, Violence/Physical Abuse
Story is Complete
Rating: R
Reviews: 131
Summary: When a mysterious woman comes to the Auror office claiming to be the victim of a terrible crime, Theia and Harry want to do everything they can to help her. The problem is, she has no memory of what has happened. As they piece together the sinister events, their own troubles and traumas rise to the surface, causing them to question who they really are. Sequel to The Aurors.
Hitcount: Story Total: 41498; Chapter Total: 2107
Awards: View Trophy Room






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It was warm in bed, and he was still in those groggy, golden moments before truly awakening. He rolled over and found himself nose to nose with Ginny. He stared for a few moments at her freckles and then moved a slow, heavy hand to her stomach. The baby must have been asleep too, and part of him was almost tempted to make some kind of loud noise so he could feel it kick him again, but he wasn’t sure that it was worth Ginny’s wrath. Instead, he settled for stroking the backs of his fingers just below her belly button.

‘That tickles,’ she mumbled irritably, without opening her eyes.

He stopped but grinned. ‘Sorry.’

‘Go and put the kettle on instead,’ she said, still refusing to open her eyes.

He kissed her on the nose. ‘You’re so grumpy.’

‘Someone slept on my bladder all night.’

‘I said I was sorry,’ Harry joked, but she didn’t find it funny.

He rolled back over, took his wand from under his pillow, and pulled himself out of bed with a yawn, before plodding down to the kitchen. It was a shame Teddy wasn’t staying with them because he was in a good mood and thought dealing with a high energy child would be a good start to the day.

Something blurry in the shape of an owl was waiting for him in the kitchen, sitting patiently on the back of a chair. Harry pointed his wand lazily at the kettle and squinted at the brown blob, holding out a hand carefully.

It was not until he returned to the bedroom with the tea that he could put on his glasses to read the letter.

Dear Mr Potter,

Thank you for your enquiry regarding wizard social and children’s services, and I respect your request to keep this confidential. I can confirm that we are not aware of any past records concerning Marcia Staindrop or any of her dependent’s welfare, including any past adoptions, transfers of custody, or guardianship matters, either from her childhood or more recently.

Furthermore, I thought I would make you aware that legal protections for children, at least in the wizarding world, have only developed recently. The legal matters yourself and Ms Andromeda Tonks pursued some years ago in regards to Edward Lupin were some of the first following new legislation, which we continue to refine. Previously, children at risk fell under Muggle protections and informal adoption was common and rarely monitored by the Ministry. Your own transfer of guardianship from your parents to Ms Petunia Dursley was initiated on an informal basis, and monitored predominantly by Professor Albus Dumbledore. More formal legislation was proposed shortly before the war in mid-1995, and enacted with the support of the Minister for Magic shortly after your defeat of He Who Must Not Be Named. I am unable to help with your second enquiry for this reason; any claims to guardianship or adoption are likely to have been made to Professor Dumbledore. The Ministry itself has no record of any guardianship claims or welfare checks on yourself.

Again, the team thanks you for your support on many of the life-changing policies you helped influence. We hope that you will continue to support us creating a new, robust legislative standard for a fairer, stronger society over the coming years. May I also take the opportunity to congratulate you on the upcoming birth of your first child.

Please do let me know if there are any other matters I can help you with.

Kind regards,

Alys Callahan
Families and Muggleborns Team, Post-war Recovery
Magical Law and Policy
Ministry For Magic


‘What’s that?’ Ginny asked, now sitting up in bed and looking far more cheerful with a cup of tea.

‘Nothing,’ he said. ‘Work stuff.’ His good mood had gone, and he held the letter limply by his knee as he ran a hand through his hair.

‘Work stuff? Why didn’t you get it sent to the office? We’ve been through this…’

‘Yeah, I know, sorry,’ he said heavily. ‘It’s just that Susan checks all my post and I didn’t want anyone reading this one.’

He felt her reach out and touch his arm. ‘Harry…?’

‘Why was the pre-war Ministry so shit?’ he blurted out. ‘They just didn’t seem to bother keeping tabs on anything.’

‘Well, I suppose Fudge-’

‘Not just Fudge. This goes beyond that.’ He turned to look at her. ‘You know what an orphanage is, right?’

She looked bewildered. ‘Of course I do.’

‘But there aren’t any wizarding ones?’

‘Well, no not here, not for a very long time. Not really enough people for orphans to be such a problem.’

‘What about a children’s home? Fostering?’

‘Eh?’

‘Like a smaller orphanage, for kids that don’t have parents or don’t have good ones. Meant to be temporary until they can go back or find someone else who will care for them. Someone Muggle social services deems good enough.’

‘Is it a Muggle thing?’

‘Apparently,’ he said bitterly, turning back to the letter.

‘What’s going on?’ she asked him. She sounded worried - perhaps, thought Harry, she was worried he wanted to give the baby away, or give Andromeda full custody of Teddy. Muggle social services would have been checking he was fit to be a parent after all, if they had known. Nobody had ever come round to check that he wasn’t hitting him or not feeding him enough or locking him up or getting drunk or any of that.

‘Are you all right?’ Ginny asked again.

‘I’m fine,’ he said. ‘Just trying to find out how Marcy went from being a neglected squib to living with another wizarding family and no one seemed to know about it. And,’ he added grumpily, ‘why no one in the history of wizarding Britain has ever thought there should be policies in place for children who aren’t treated right.’

‘It’s left mostly to Hogwarts, isn’t it? The teachers usually know the children best,’ said Ginny, her voice gentle. ‘Harry, it’s just not like the Muggle world. There really aren’t many of us at all, I think things like that have always been handled on a case by case basis.’

‘Well, they shouldn’t have been,’ said Harry, his voice higher and more rapid than usual. ‘And what about before Hogwarts? Someone should’ve - they should’ve been looking out for- for Marcy.’

‘The Swindlehursts looked after her, didn’t they?’ said Ginny. ‘Like we looked after you-’

He rose. ‘No,’ he said abruptly. ‘It’s not the same. Dumbledore knew about me staying at the Burrow, and anyway I’m not sure the Swindlehursts cared for her.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘There’s something familiar in their utter lack of concern,’ he muttered. He wrenched open the wardrobe. ‘I have to go into work early, I’m sorry.’

‘When will you be back?’

‘I don’t know. Not late,’ he added quickly as he saw her crestfallen face.

‘Good, because don’t forget-’

‘Dinner with George and Angelina, I know.’ He dressed quickly and in silence, but before he left, thought better of it. He turned back to her. ‘I’m sorry. I just never really thought about it.’

‘About what?’

‘About why it was Dumbledore. Who left me there.’

She looked at him, her eyes meeting his. ‘Mum tried, you know. The same year I started Hogwarts. And a few times after that. To talk to Dumbledore about it.’

‘I know,’ he said. He hadn’t, not really, but he didn’t feel surprised. His mind was going at a hundred miles an hour and he felt sick. ‘Let’s talk about it later.’

She smiled. ‘Yes. Get yourself to work. I’ll see you at George’s.’

***

The Loney was as grey and windswept as usual, but this time Harry could hear commotion when he knocked on Marcy’s door. Judy, the trainee he had picked up from the office, shifted uncomfortably - still rather starstruck around him.

‘I’m getting it, I’m getting it!’ he heard Theia screech.

‘There’s someone at the door!’

‘I know, Marcy, I’m getting it!’

Harry couldn’t hide his smile as the door was pulled violently open and a sour-faced Theia appeared. ‘Morning,’ he said, in a comically-cautious voice.

‘She’s driving me mad,’ Theia hissed, but Marcy’s smiling, slightly vacant face appeared over her shoulder.

‘Oh, it’s you. Theia was going to make me some tea.’

Theia closed her eyes and exhaled slowly. ‘I said I will, Marcy.’

‘Actually, I was hoping I could borrow Theia for a while, Marcy,’ said Harry kindly. ‘Judy here could make you a cup of tea, though.’ Judy smiled at Marcy, who seemed to stare right through her.

‘Theia will come back?’ she asked, clutching Theia’s arm.

‘Of course,’

Marcy looked doubtful, even afraid, but Judy stepped forward with a bright and cheerful tone. ‘How do you take your tea, Marcy? I like sugar in mine.’

Harry walked away with a grateful Theia, leaving Marcy looking a little abandoned behind them.

‘How was your first day with her?’ Harry asked.

Theia sighed. ‘She’s still sweet, it’s just so frustrating. She’s so childlike and confused all the time. I don’t understand how the Healers let her go.’

‘They said she can take care of her basic needs,’ said Harry. ‘Is that not the case?’

‘I suppose she can,’ said Theia uneasily. ‘It’s more like… I don’t know. She asks me to do things about twenty times because she’s forgotten she’s already asked me, even if I’ve done it.’

‘And you haven’t seen the person that was watching us last time we were here?’ he asked in a low voice.

She shook her head subtly. ‘No. Although… You know that little old lady? Pauline’s mum?’

‘The one who could barely see, hear or walk?’

She nodded, and told him the story about the sheep Ben had divulged. ‘Weird, isn’t it?’

‘That doesn’t sound like any magic I’ve ever heard of,’ said Harry darkly.

They had to go further down the valley than before, past Ornella’s house, down a path so steep that they felt the need to outstretch their arms slightly for balance.

‘Keep your wand at hand for this one,’ Harry muttered as they approached the house. The garden was chaotic - tangled weeds and dumped, broken furniture. The windows were so dirty they were almost black, and a thick, soft green moss grew over the slate roof and down the west side of the building.

Harry thumped hard on the door. ‘Mr Swindlehurst,’ he called. ‘Oeric!’

They heard grumbling and curses, a stumbling noise like something being knocked over, and the door opened with a creak.

Oeric Swindlehurst had a red face surrounded by a tangle of long grey hair. His bleary eyes looked over them suspiciously. ‘And what? What have I done now?’

‘We just want a chat,’ said Harry. ‘About Marcy.’

‘That stupid bitch,’ said Oeric, his face contorting into disgust. ‘I want nothing to do with her.’

Harry and Theia glanced at each other. ‘Then I think it would be best if you let us in and told us why, Mr Swindlehurst,’ said Theia.

‘I don’t have to let you in,’ said Oeric. ‘Not without a warrant. I’m not some Muggle-brained halfwit.’

‘Yes, you’re familiar with your rights, aren’t you, Oeric?’ said Harry. ‘You’ve done a few stints in Azkaban for violent crime towards Muggles. Usually women.’

‘Fuckin’ liars,’ said Oeric. He was swaying. ‘And so is Marcy. Don’t believe a word she says.’

‘What do you think she’s said about you, Mr Swindlehurst?’ asked Theia, who was unable to hide the disgust on her face.

‘Don’t know, don’t give a shit,’ he said. ‘Useless girl. My sister should never’ve taken her in.’

‘Why not?’ Harry asked.

‘Constant whining, ungrateful little slut.’

‘What did she whine about?’

‘Just fuck off, will yer? Come back with a warrant or leave me alone.’

He slammed the door in their faces.

‘See if you can-’

‘Ask Marcy about him, got it,’ said Theia smoothly. ‘What were the crimes he was convicted of?’ she asked as they walked away. ‘I didn’t get the file from Susan.’

Harry was silent for a few moments, deciding how to phrase it. He didn’t want to say the actual words himself. ‘He used the Imperius Curse on Muggle women,’ he said finally. He was sure that Theia could fill in the gaps.

‘I’ll ask her about him,’ she said quietly.

‘Make sure you do, carefully,’ he said. ‘She should never have been anywhere near him. She was vulnerable.’

‘I will,’ she said. ‘It might take some time though.’

The air was cold and fresh that day. Harry vaguely thought that it would have made for good Quidditch conditions, were it not for the occasional gust that sent the heather rippling towards them, and Theia’s hair flying wild behind her.

He wondered what it was like for the children that grew up here, muggle and wizarding, so far removed from concrete and bricks and general civilisation. Part of him thought it would have been wonderful; he had hated Surrey, not only because of the Dursleys but also by how everything looked the same, and the constant inability to be truly alone. He and Ginny lived in a similarly remote area not far from the Burrow, but he realised that, like he had assumed when he had first come to the Loney, the fantasy of children delighting in the wilderness and solitude was his own. Perhaps they would be bored. Perhaps they would feel as trapped as he did at Privet Drive. Was he being fair to his unborn child? How could he make sure they were safe?

‘Boss?’

He felt himself jolting back to earth and glanced down at Theia, who was looking at him uncomfortably.

‘I said, “which house are we going to next?”’

‘Oh, right. Our friend Mr Osman.’ He pointed, at the very flat of the valley, almost hidden in heather, the last cottage. ‘I got his records from Susan. His full name is Ralf Berold Osman, and he doesn’t have any criminal record, though on occasion he has refused to pay taxes. Susan thinks he might be a live off the land, hermit type.’

‘Ah, lovely. I expect he will be just as welcoming as Mr Swindlehurst,’ she said.

But to their surprise, when the reached the cottage, Mr Osman was outside on the front step. Pipe in his mouth, he barely glanced up from the chicken he was plucking, the feathers falling between his worn boots. A labrador lay beside them, thumping his tail lazily at them, and to the side of the door a homemade windchime made out of sea shells swung gently.

‘Good morning, Mr Osman.’

He forcefully blew smoke from his nostrils, his hands still working the chicken roughly. Harry thought the house and surrounding yard was messy, but in a way that suggested it was well-worked rather than neglected. A pile of potatoes, mud still clinging to them, buckets and garden tools - it almost reminded Harry of Hagrid’s hut, were it not for the feeling that guests were very much not welcome.

‘Told you to stay away,’ he mumbled through his pipe.

‘Unfortunately we’re Aurors, we have an annoying habit of sticking our nose in things,’ said Harry pleasantly. ‘Making lunch? Why not use magic to do that?’

‘Just ask me yer soddin’ questions,’ he said, still refusing to look at them.

‘What do you know about Marcy Staindrop?’

He shrugged. ‘What do I know about anyone, really? Keep to meself.’

‘Were you aware she had a baby recently?’

Harry thought one of his hands fumbled over the feathers. ‘Not my concern,’ he said. ‘She mebbe did. I dunno.’

‘Do you know who the father was?’

‘Marcy’s a tramp, couldda been anyone,’ he said brusquely.

Harry looked around the wild landscape. ‘Not many opportunities to be a tramp here, are there?’

Mr Osman didn’t answer; he continued to wrench feathers from the chicken, it’s head wobbling by his knee. He must have wrung its neck.

‘And Ornella, we’re not clear on who the father of her children are either.’

‘Dunno. Don’t care.’

‘Can you tell us why you warned us to stay away from the Swindlehursts?’ Theia asked.

‘Because their affairs is their own,’ he said. ‘Just like mine.’

‘We appreciate that, but-’

‘Look, what is it y’want, eh? What is it yer looking for?’

‘Well, we have a woman who apparently had a baby recently, but there’s no sign of it. She also can’t remember anything.’

‘Good,’ he muttered.

‘Excuse me?’ When Mr Osman shook his head, Harry pressed harder. ‘What do you mean, “good”, Mr Osman?’

‘Nought,’ he snapped. ‘All you need to know is that family is ruthless, and everything has got a price. I’ve got nothing to do with any of it, so leave me alone.’

He rose, and opened his door. Harry craned his neck to peek in, and saw his walking stick in the porch, leaning behind something shiny and red.

‘Mr Osman!’ exclaimed Theia. ‘That bicycle! A little boy in the village is looking for it. Where did you find it?’

‘It’s mine,’ he said dismissively.

‘It’s clearly for a child,’ said Harry. ‘Come on, Mr Osman, where did you get it?’

‘Out on the fells,’ he said. ‘It’s mine now.’

‘Don’t be odd,’ said Theia sharply. ‘It belongs to a little boy. Where on the fells?’

‘On a crag above the creek. It’s mine.’

‘Let me take it, Mr Osman. I’ll return it to the little boy.’

But Mr Osman ignored them and, like Mr Swindlehurst, slammed the door in their face.

‘Well,’ said Theia irritably. ‘At least I can go and tell Ben and he can get it back for the little boy. So odd that a grown man would take a little boy’s bike.’

‘Never mind that,’ said Harry quietly. ‘A few days ago he was hobbling up the road. We just saw him get up off a bottom step and walk into his house - the walking stick was behind the bike.’

‘Why would someone lie about limping?’ asked Theia. ‘Perhaps he was injured and has recovered?’

‘I imagine he’s lying about something bigger,’ said Harry.

‘So,’ said Theia with a heavy sigh. ‘We’ve got three women, all a bit odd, in the same family that on the one hand took her in, but also seemed to neglect her… Which is weird. Why would you agree to take in a child but then not look after her properly?’

‘It’s common,’ said Harry, and Theia made a face that made him think he may have accidentally snapped at her. ‘We also have a man closely related to the family with a violent history and a hatred towards Marcy.’

‘And another man who seems to be hiding something and refuses to talk about any of them - but has still chosen to live near them,’ continued Marcy. ‘That’s a lot of suspects.’

‘But no clear crime yet,’ said Harry. ‘We’ve got everything back to front.’

‘We have a victim though,’ said Theia. ‘I’ll keep chatting with her to see if she remembers anything else. Maybe the familiar surroundings might spark something.’

‘Good,’ said Harry. ‘I’ll be back tomorrow. Let’s go rescue Judy and get you back to your schedule of making tea.’

***

That evening, his tongue loosened by the wine they had at George’s, Harry apologised to Ginny as they walked back to their cottage.

‘I couldn’t speak to the woman in person, because she sits near Hermione and she might have seen me, and… I don’t know, I just didn’t want her to. But Susan opens all my post, so-’

‘So that’s what you were writing when we got home from St Mungos,’ said Ginny patiently. ‘But what made you ask about yourself? Why didn’t you just ask about the case?’

‘I don’t know. Opportunity? Morbid opportunity? I wish I hadn’t. I don’t know what I expected.’

‘What did you want it to say? You knew it was Dumbledore that arranged it for you, and you knew why.’

He couldn’t think. ‘I don’t know. I just...’ He trailed off. The night was cool and dark, he could only just see Ginny’s silhouette, but he could feel her hand firmly in his. ‘I just can’t believe there was nothing. But I can believe it really, because I’ve seen it, in Snape and Riddle and… There must be others.’ Even to Ginny, he did not want to admit that part of him had hoped there would be some record of someone, anyone, trying to get him out of the Dursley’s home, even though it had not been possible.

‘Things are different now,’ said Ginny.

‘But they could have been different a long time ago. And I don’t know what happened with Marcy, but whether it happened recently or a long time ago, something did.’

‘You’ll figure it out. You always do.’

They were silent for several moments, only their footsteps echoing down the shadowy lane and occasional rustles from the hedgerows. Harry had not expected the letter to shake him so much, and he wished he had the courage to ask Ginny to elaborate on what she had said earlier - that Molly Weasley had tried to speak to Dumbledore.
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