|
Framed | ||||||
|
Category: Post-DH/AB Characters:None Genres: Action/Adventure, Romance Warnings: Dark Fiction, Death, Extreme Language, Mild Sexual Situations, Negative Alcohol Use, Rape Story is Complete Rating: R Reviews: 193 Summary: After the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry Potter is training to be an Auror, and he is finally back together with Ginny Weasley. But when a young woman dies of poisoning at the Ministry’s Midsummer Ball, Harry is the first suspect, and he can only uncover the true murderer by working with his childhood rival, Draco Malfoy. Hitcount: Story Total: 56278; Chapter Total: 1226 Awards: View Trophy Room |
Previous Next |
|
||||
|
Chapter 25: Socialites with Secrets June 29, 1998, 2:23 p.m. Ministry of Magic, Auror Department, Observation Room Under the pretense of giving Ron direction, Kelly held the door to the observation room open. “Weasley, don’t forget I need that report before the end of day, so finish it up once this interview is complete.” In actuality, she was allowing Harry an opportunity slide into the room while disguised under his cloak. Once he was in the room, he found it seemed much smaller once one was invisible. Most of Harry’s adventures under his cloak involved sneaking around Hogwarts while most of the school was asleep or as an added precaution while in wide open spaces during the Horcrux hunt. But moving inside a smallish room while it was quiet and occupied was a new challenge, and Harry was acutely aware of the slight rustling sound that his cloak made and hoped the sound of Anthony Goldstein sorting through parchment disguised the sound of his movements. With irritation, he finally understood why girls complained that boys took up too much space as he scooted sideways across the back wall, trying to not to scrape against the wall or let his cloak brush any of his fellow trainees. Ron, Neville, Anthony, and Terry all sat far back from the conference table and sprawled in their chairs. If Harry stood behind any of them, he would be in danger of being detected if they so much as shifted an inch. He scooted himself past Terry and Anthony to stand directly behind Susan, who was sitting very close to the table, her ankles crossed under her chair. Once he was settled, Harry looked through the one-way glass to see the woman being interviewed by Kelly and Daniel. Even if Daniel had not brought it up, he would have known instantly that she was from Witch Weekly. While Jasmine Weston was much younger than Sharon Vane or Valerie Hawkins–Harry estimated her to be about Fleur’s age–she had the same overly groomed look of deliberate simplicity. She was a pretty woman with glossy brown hair that fell halfway down her back. “Thank you, Miss Weston, for coming to the Ministry,” Daniel was saying. “I understand you have something to tell us.” “Might,” said Miss Weston, her hands placed on her lap. “Might what?” Kelly asked. “Might have something of interest,” she said. “The conversation I overheard was a couple of weeks ago, and it was only yesterday that it occurred to me that it might be of significance.” Daniel frowned. “Who was in the conversation?” “Sharon Vane and another woman. I didn’t see her face.” “Didn’t see her face?” “I was in the wardrobe room,” Jasmine said. “There was a photo shoot about to start in a neighboring park, and one of the models had damaged the beading on her robes. When I accepted the job as the fashion director’s assistant, I thought I would be styling the models for photo shoots, but mostly I do alteration spells when the clothes don’t fit well or repair the shoes that models break heels off of.” “So you were repairing the dress gowns of a model when you overheard the conversation?” Kelly asked. She had, Harry thought, the facial expression of a woman who did not care about Jasmine Weston’s job description. “Yes. I was at the work desk when two women came in. I couldn’t see them, but I recognized Sharon Vane’s voice at once.” “But not the other woman’s?” Jasmine shook her head. “The voice was familiar, but the woman wasn’t a Witch Weekly employee. I would have recognized it if she had been anyone who worked in the building. There were a few racks of clothing between me at the work desk and them, so we couldn’t see each other.” “But you are certain that one of the women was Sharon Vane?” Daniel asked. “Yes, she’s my boss’s boss. I’d know her voice anywhere.” “All right. So, we have two women, Sharon Vane and an unknown female, having a conversation in the wardrobe room,” Kelly summarized. “What were they discussing?” “Potions. Sharon wanted to buy a potion off the other woman, but she was nervous about it.” A potion. Could the answer be as simple as Sharon Vane all along, while they had been busy attempting to work out the hierarchy of the Hogwarts rapists? As the investigation went on, Harry had taken on Daniel’s theory on Sharon Vane: that she was hiding something, possibly something of great significance to the investigation, but she wasn’t a likely murderer. “How did you know she was nervous?” Daniel asked. “Because she asked the other woman, ‘What do I do if I can’t get her to drink it?’” He imagined Sharon Vane carrying around a vial of potion around during Romilda’s last few days, pondering putting it in her morning tea or her lunchtime pumpkin juice, until it occurred to her that the best place to murder her own daughter was in public, where countless suspects would be around. As for placing the Imperius on Eddie, she could have done it. She could have pulled him aside, asked about the calories in the shrimp cocktail, placing the Unforgivable Curse on him once she had his attention. But how would she have poisoned just the right glass? And why would she kill her own daughter? Daniel frowned. “Did she ever specify who the drinker was to be?” Jasmine shook her head. “No, I assumed they were talking about Sara at the time. I was trying to go unnoticed. When they first entered the wardrobe room, I thought about letting them know I was there as a courtesy, but they started talking right away and the topic was obviously personal, and it seemed too awkward to let them know.” “Are you referring to Sara Vane? Why did you think they were discussing her?” The young woman looked uncomfortable. “It’s an open secret at Witch Weekly that Sharon has had her daughter on diet potions since she was eight. It was rumored that Sara got sent to Camp Porcus the summer before she went to Hogwarts?” “Camp What?” Daniel asked. “Fat farm,” Kelly said. “It’s where pureblood families send their daughters when they think they are too fat to be married off.” You could always count on Kelly to be as tactful as Ron, Harry thought. He couldn’t help but feel sympathy for Sara. If the Dursleys had heard of a camp that turned wizards into Squibs, he knew they would have packed him off in a similar manner. Daniel did not appear interested in learning more about fat farms. “So you thought she might have been purchasing a diet potion. When you begin to suspect that it wasn’t?” Jasmine shrugged. “I don’t know that she wasn’t. It is the most logical explanation.” “But you’re here,” Kelly pointed out. “No one asked you to come in. So you must feel there is a chance that they were discussing something other than a diet potion.” Jasmine nodded. “A couple of evenings ago, some of us–the younger girls at the office–went out for drinks after work. Some of the girls started expressing the opinion that Sharon had killed her own daughter. At the time, it struck me as absurd.” “Why absurd?” Daniel asked. “Romilda was the golden child,” Jasmine said. “Her mother doted on her. She also just signed a very lucrative contract with Teen Witch. Why would Sharon kill her favorite child?” “But?” Kelly prompted. “But it occurred to me that neither women mentioned the name of the potion they were discussing, nor did Sharon name the person who it was intended for.” “Jasmine, we need you to tell us exactly what you remember these women said. Do you think you can recall the wording?” Jasmine nodded, looking nervous. “I think so. I remember the door closing with a thud. It startled me. Then Sharon spoke first. She said, ‘Can you get it?’” Kelly and Daniel were both listening intently. Around Harry, his classmates were scribbling madly even though a transcription charm was listing the conversation word for word. “Then the other woman spoke. She had a low, husky voice. A sexy voice. She said, ‘You know I always keep that in my potions store, Shari,’ No one at Witch Weekly ever called her ‘Shari.’ No one would dare. She was either ‘Sharon’ or ‘Mrs. Vane,’ depending on who you were.” “And what was Sharon Vane’s response?” “She said, ‘I’m not sure if I can do this.’ I don’t think I can recount word for word what the other woman said. I know she said something about the pain being minimal, that Sharon would be grateful later, and that she uses this item every two to three years.” “On herself? Or on other people?” Kelly asked. Jasmine frowned, trying to remember. “I don’t know. I think she said, ‘I use it myself every two or three years.’ I don’t know if she said she used it on herself.” “And what was the response?” Daniel asked. “Sharon said, ‘What do I do if I can’t get her to drink it?’ Then the other woman said, ‘Then you’ll have to use force. Unless you are prepared to deal with the alternative.’ Then Sharon said, ‘She’s my own daughter.’ At that point, someone burst in the wardrobe room, told Sharon the photographers were waiting for her, and both women left without realizing I was there.” “And you definitely didn’t recognize the voice?” Kelly asked. “It was familiar, but familiar in a I-think-we’ve-met-before way. Had the woman worked in reception, in the finance department, or been one of the cleaners, I would have recognized the voice. My initial theory of diet potions could be accurate here. Apart from fashion designers and cosmetics companies, makers of diet potions are some of the biggest advertisers in Witch Weekly. I could have easily met a potion maker in passing, but not spend enough time in conservation with them to recognize their voice weeks later.” “Do you still think they were discussing diet potions for Sara?” “I don’t know. I hope that’s all that it was. Sharon Vane is . . . not the most popular of bosses.” “You don’t need to tiptoe. Your colleagues have lined up to talk about her,” Kelly said. “Yes, I have heard. While she isn’t the nicest person, she did appear to love her oldest daughter, so I am hoping the conversation that I overheard was more mundane than I have made it out to be. There are any number of reasons why a person might choose to bypass the apothecary to buy a potion.” “Yes, of course, there are many reasons. Simple embarrassment being the most common,” Daniel said. “But you did the right thing in coming here. Like you, we hope there is a simple explanation. However, if there isn’t one, it’s best that things come to light sooner rather than later.” 6:00 p.m., The Burrow “So, Sharon Vane might have poisoned her own daughter?” Ginny demanded, pulling a loaf of bread from the oven. It was just before dinner time. Mrs. Weasley and Ginny were busy in the kitchen. Harry and Ron had got home from the Ministry, and Mr. Weasley was expected within the half hour. George was tinkering with a fake wand at the table, Bill and Fleur had just arrived with a pie, and Percy was planning to stop by after a late meeting. “Well, she definitely bought some potion for one of her daughters,” Ron said. “We don’t know what kind of potion, or which daughter it was for. But she definitely bought it secretly, so either the potion can’t be purchased legally or else she didn’t want to be seen buying it in an apothecary.” “So suspicious definitely and murderous possibly,” Ginny said. “I don’t see why she would murder ‘er own daughter,” Fleur said. “‘Er ‘usband iz an awful leetle man. Everyone would understand if she killed ‘im.” Harry turned to Fleur and Bill in surprise. “I completely forgot that you both know Mortimer Vane. Why is he awful?” “Because ‘e is still alive,” Fleur said darkly. “Mortimer is . . . not popular with female Gringotts employees,” Bill said. “‘E has ze wandering eyes. And ze wandering hands.” Fleur pantomimed smacking a bum. “When I get called to ‘is office, I bring Bill wiz me.” Harry had not paid much attention to Romilda’s father during the interviews at the Vane house. His more theatrical wife had drawn the attention of the Aurors. Mortimer had been quiet and at least a decade older than his wife. He had a distinguished look, like Laurence Olivier, one of the classic film stars Aunt Petunia had liked. Harry would have never guessed that the man preyed upon twenty-something women in his employ. Mrs. Weasley crossed her arms over her chest. “And no one has done anything about that? That’s a terrible abuse of power.” “Mortimer reports only to the goblins,” Bill explained. “There have been complaints about him, and the goblins can’t help but notice female employees don’t last very long. But they make it a point not to get involved in what they view as wizarding personal affairs, and at the end of the day, Mortimer Vane is the best at defending goblin interests in spheres where goblins cannot move freely.” “Well, that’s just awful. And a man with three daughters!” Mrs. Weasley said. “That is consistent with what Valerie Hawkins told us,” Ron said thoughtfully. “I thought she was trying to make Sharon Vane seem controlling when she said didn’t want her husband at the Witch Weekly offices.” “Oh, she definitely was,” Harry added. “But that doesn’t mean Sharon Vane couldn’t have a valid reason not to have her husband around models.” Just how young did Mortimer Vane like women? Fleur was young enough to be his daughter, but the models ran even younger. By all records, many were girls under the age of 17. A wave of revulsion swept over Harry. Surely, he wouldn’t . . . no, Harry didn’t want to even think about that. With the year that Romilda had, surely not that. Not even if she might have conceived over the Easter holiday when she’d been at home. And if that had happened, wouldn’t Sharon Vane be in danger of murdering her husband, and not her daughter? Harry noticed Ginny looked troubled as she stirred the stew her mother had abandoned in her anger against Mr. Vane. Was it possible she’d had the same thought about Mortimer Vane? June 30, 1998, 1:00 p.m. The Ministry of Magic, Auror Department Kelly had a harder time sneaking Harry into the observation room the next day. Not only were his fellow trainees there to see Sharon Vane’s first interview on Ministry premises, so were several senior Aurors, as well as Gawain Robards himself. Harry held his breath, squished himself into a back corner very carefully, and hoped for a sneeze free hour. He hoped Kelly knew what she was doing. If Gawain caught him here, his career as an Auror would be over before it began. Sharon Vane did not look quite as effortless as she had in the Ministry ballroom or even in her own home. Her clothing and hair were perfect as ever, but there were dark circles under her eyes and even Harry could tell she had been biting her nails. Could it be guilt? Or panic? “What is it?” she asked. “Is there news? Why didn’t you ask Mortimer to be here as well?” “I’m afraid we don’t have news at this time.” It was Dawlish who was to lead this investigation, with Williamson as back up. “However, a few things came up during interviews that we need to ask you about.” “What kinds of things?” “One person reported hearing a conversation between you and another woman approximately two weeks ago,” Dawlish continued. “What?” Sharon looked bewildered. “Have you purchased an off-market potion to use on one of your daughters?” Sharon put a hand over her mouth. “I wouldn’t! Well . . . I thought about it, of course, but I wouldn’t have been able to do it in the end. Some things a mother just can’t do.” “So you admit to considering the poisoning of your own child?” Williamson asked. “Poisoning!” Either Sharon Vane was an excellent actress or else she was genuinely shocked. “Am I to be a suspect in my own child’s death? Are you so eager to wrap this up tidily that you have no regard for the truth?” “Please forgive Auror Williamson. He sometimes jumps to conclusions,” Dawlish said, causing Williamson to glare at him. “We brought you here to ask what you had purchased.” “Not a poison! Oh, I could have bought it at St. Mungo’s, but people talk, and I was so frightened that it would get out.” Dawlish frowned. “St. Mungo’s! Are you saying the potion you purchased was medical in nature?” Sharon nodded, looking miserable. “A week ago, some of your colleagues asked me if I knew my daughter was pregnant. I lied to them. I did know. I just didn’t think it would matter to admit it then. She was dead, after all.” “The potion was related to Romilda’s pregnancy, then?” Dawlish pressed. “Yes, it was an abortive potion. Perfectly safe, perfectly legal.” “Yes, assuming the person who takes it made the decision,” Williamson stated. “Was this Romilda’s idea?” “She said she wanted the baby. Sixteen years old, a freshly signed contract with Teen Witch. I tried to explain to her that it wasn’t like getting a cute doll. Her entire life would be defined by this baby. Her career prospects would go out the window. Her marital prospects would narrow. She was so stubborn, wouldn’t even tell me who the father was.” While Harry thought it was disgusting that Sharon Vane had attempted to force her daughter into an abortion, he too could not quite picture Romilda as a teen mother. “I told you she was hiding something!” Daniel said within the safety of the soundproof observation room. “Pay up, Higginbotham!” In the interrogation room, Williamson opened his mouth, but Dawlish shot him a look, and he closed it quickly. “Did you think she would drink it willingly?” Dawlish asked. Sharon nodded. “She wasn’t herself this summer. Minerva McGonagall wrote to me to tell me that she’d released Romilda’s Hogwarts records to you, so you know what those boys did to my beautiful girl. All of her decisions were made through fear. I thought, at some point, she might start thinking rationally and make the right decision for her future. “She didn’t trust me though. I sent up breakfast trays with the maid every morning because she never came down before noon. But she never drank the tea, never ate the toast. It wasn’t just the morning sickness. She didn’t trust me to leave her tea alone.” Williamson looked like he didn’t blame Romilda, but Dawlish had not altered his sympathetic expression once throughout the interview. “And by the time of the ball?” he asked. “She hadn’t budged. I thought she’d have second thoughts when her dress robes no longer fit, encasing a new belly. She was indifferent. I . . . lost my temper. I put her in a corset, tied it tighter than I should have. Once we got to the Ministry, and Romi looked so pale, I felt so guilty, but there was nothing I could do. When she collapsed on the table, I thought she’d passed out from the corset. I didn’t believe it when that healer said she was dead.” She was weeping. Not the pretty tears that Harry had seen back in her elegant townhouse, but the genuine ugly tears of a woman who had spent the last ten days facing her own failures as a mother. After the Sharon Vane interview, Harry returned to the Hall of Records, but there was no concentrating on Animagi now. If he hadn’t believed Sharon Vane before, he did now. His previous sense of insincerity made sense now, just not in a homicidal way. Did it bring things back to the Hogwarts rapists? Things always seemed to return to the Hogwarts rapists. He pulled out the map he’d been working on for the last few days so he would look like he was busily at work when the next person walked into the records room. It was the dumbest assignment, he thought. He should be out, finding out who was framing him, not mapping Animagi. The only semi-interesting that came out of this exercise was that Harry had learned the witches and wizards who lived in coastal areas were more likely to turn into birds like owls, eagles, and hawks, while witches and wizards who lived inland were more likely to turn into mammals. Owls . . . Oh, bloody hell . . . “It was watching us,” Ginny had said of the mystery owl at the Burrow. When a tawny owl had delivered a letter to him, he had found it strange that a non-Ministry owl could get through the barriers set up by Bill and Kingsley. But the cryptic contents of the letter had completely driven the mystery of the animal out of his mind. Even when that same owl had returned to deliver two more letters. Had it been a wizard delivering those little notes and not a post owl? Animagi were at an advantage with protective spells, Harry knew. Sirius had been able to sneak out of Azkaban because the spells designed to keep wizards in did not extend to dogs. And Rita Skeeter had been able to sneak in and out of Hogwarts during the Triwizard Tournament because even protections created by Dumbledore himself could not keep beetles out. And Harry was willing to bet that spells meant to control the behavior of post owls wouldn’t extend to owls that were actually Animagi. Would an Animagus have been able to enter the Ministry the evening of the ball? While the Ministry charmed paper airplanes for interoffice notes, they did still use owls for any correspondence that went outside the Ministry. Harry had, in fact, received his Hogwarts expulsion from a Ministry owl three years before. The evening of the ball, there could have been any number of owls flying to and from the Ministry. The security guards would not have been interested in testing whether they were all actually birds. While the killer would have had to revert to his human form at some point, as it would be difficult for a bird to poison a champagne glass, he could have avoided the ballroom altogether. All he had to do was blend in with the catering staff in the kitchen to poison Romilda’s glass and to place the Imperius Curse on Eddie Sommers. “Potter!” Kelly had returned to the records room. “Kelly!” Harry said, getting up so quickly he nearly knocked over his chair. “I have a theory. Romilda’s killer is an Unregistered Animagus.” His mentor rolled her eyes. “That’s what you got out of the Sharon Vane interview? You’re spending too much time with the Animagi records.” “No! Sharon Vane was there in the ballroom with us, and nowhere near the glasses. How could she have poisoned her own daughter when she was in sight the entire time? He’s an owl. Or he becomes one. He’s been taunting me for weeks now.” Harry realized how crazy that sounded when he took in his mentor’s facial expression. “Potter. You aren’t even making sense now. I came here because I have good news. Alison decoded Romilda’s diary. And the diary is no longer damning for you.” |
| Reviews 193 |
Previous Next
|
