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On the Woodway | ||||||
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Category: Alternate Universe, Post-DH/PM Characters:Harry/Ginny, Hermione Granger, Other, Ron Weasley Genres: Action/Adventure, Drama Warnings: Death, Disturbing Imagery, Extreme Language, Intimate Sexual Situations, Mental Abuse, Sexual Situations, Violence, Violence/Physical Abuse Story is Complete Rating: R Reviews: 44 Summary: A gruesome murder at Hogwarts disturbs the peaceful summer, and Head Auror Harry Potter struggles with the dark secret he carries with him. Kingsley Shacklebolt's Ministry hangs by a thread as old foes once again seek to reclaim power. Ancient and eternal forces are changing the world once more, and Harry is caught in the midst of the storm. Hitcount: Story Total: 227437; Chapter Total: 15704 Awards: View Trophy Room |
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Monday morning greetings around the office were awkward. The knowing stares from Hammond, Livermore and Proudfoot and the lack of reaction from Johnson chased him into his office. After getting a cup of coffee, he started the mundane tasks of sorting his inbox and a few loose files, but it was never his favourite part of the day. Halfway through, he forcefully pushed the tasks aside. He set his half-empty cup aside, stood up, and entered the main room again. "Auror Johnson?" "Yes?" two people said. "Claire Johnson," Harry clarified. "My office, please." He felt the eyes of the office burning into his back as he retreated behind his desk. Johnson entered soon after, looking like this was the last place she wanted to be right now. "You asked to see me, sir?" She asked, steadily looking down at the floor between them. "Close the door, please, and take a seat." She did as he asked, and sat down, fiddling her hands. "Now, your first pub night wasn't quite what we hoped it would be —" "I'm sorry," she blurted out before he could continue. "Excuse me?" "I'm sorry," she said again, wringing her hands together. "I went too far, and I shouldn't have said those things. I just haven't really had the time to talk to anyone about this, and it kind of tumbled out. It was really unprofessional, and it won't happen again. But I understand if you don't want me back in the office anymore." "Johnson," he said after her rushed monologue, running his hand through his hair. She didn't look up. "Claire?" This time she did, allowing him to see the tears shining in her eyes. He coughed. "First of all, you're not fired. I don't fire people just out of anger. I'm not that kind of boss. As for last Friday night…" he sighed. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry as well. I shouldn't have lost my temper. I think it's best if we put the matter to rest from now on, if you're alright with that." "Definitely," she said, sighing in relief. "Thank you, sir." "I do want to talk to you for a while longer, though," he said, inwardly cursing his role as Head Auror for these moments. "Specifically how your personal situation is affecting your work here." "Oh." Her happy expression was nowhere to be seen anymore as she despondently inspected the cabinets to their left. "I want you to know that I am purely speaking as your boss here," he emphasised. "Your trial period is coming to the halfway point soon, and while your time here has been satisfactory, it has not as fruitful as I expected it to be, considering your excellent academy reports." Johnson's ears reddened, and lines started to show at the corners of her mouth. He paused to gather his troubled thoughts and translate them into office jargon. "There is a new generation of enthusiastic, and extraordinarily capable Aurors coming up, and you're part of that. But the problem with that is that it sets a very high standard. Given your current situation, I have my doubts that you are able to meet that standard." "Sir —" "Please let me finish," he interjected. "I've spent a lot of time near Albus Dumbledore growing up, and he always believed in giving people second chances. So do I." He sighed. "You have three months left on your trial. I hope you can use that time to prove my doubts wrong, and show me the Auror you can become. Otherwise, I'm afraid I'll have to give your place to another Academy member." "I understand," she said, her eyes shining with unshed tears. He wished he could comfort her, but considering his experience with girls not named Ginny, that would probably only make things worse. "Good," he said instead, standing up. She followed suit. "I really think you can still make it, you know," he said, deciding on the spot to speak his heart. "I know there's a great Auror in you. You just need to start believing that yourself as well. Don't be afraid, just let it come out more." "I'll try," she said. "I know you will," he said, smiling at her. "I need to speak to our department head now. But one last thing before you leave: I must ask you whether there is anything you'd like to tell me," he said gently. "Anything at all." She paused, rocking back and forth on her feet. "No, sir," she then said. "And thank you." "Any time," he said, not missing her sincerity. She turned around and closed the door behind her. He sunk down again, massaging his temples. One difficult conversation down, and the next one was planned five minutes from now. "Things are not going well," Amelia Bones said. "I wholeheartedly agree," he said. "Exactly one week from now, students will be leaving for Hogwarts. Have you come any closer to solving the elf case last week?" "No." She pursed her lips. "What about Ollivander's case? The Veritaserum still needs two weeks to prepare, is that right?" "Yes. We've got interrogations planned for when it's done." "That's not good enough," she said. "The mood is tense on the streets, Harry. I haven't seen Diagon Alley as miserable during the holidays since Voldemort's second rise." "I know," he said. "Me and my godson were almost the victim of mob violence, if you can remember." "Vividly. Kingsley is very anxious for any progress. He's been constantly breathing down my neck this past week." "Yours too? He's got a long breath, hasn't he?" "Why do you always get so snarky in these times?" she asked. "Part of the charm," he shrugged. "But yeah, he's said the same things to me. The opposition is really milking Ollivander's murder." "Of course they are," she said. "It's their best weapon for the time being, and they don't even know about the Hogwarts case." "So we have to solve it quickly," he concluded. "Exactly. So what are you doing to speed up the process?" "Well, everything I can, but we're at a complete dead end for now," he argued. "We've analysed all the evidence from both cases multiple times, and we've interviewed everyone who might've seen or heard something; some of them multiple times. There's nothing more to be done until that bloody serum is done!" She steepled her hands together and leaned back in her chair. "Who are your suspects so far?" "We're going to interrogate bookshop owner Julie le Clé and jeweller Gerard Bonham." "But you're not convinced it's either of them?" She asked. He frowned, and briefly looked away. "No." "I can see that you have someone in your mind, so out with it." Harry regarded her shrewd expression again while he considered his options. Mentally apologising to Ron, he chose to speak up. "This is not based on any evidence," he said. "But I think it's Yaxley who's behind both murders." She showed no real reaction to that except maybe she leaned forward slightly. "What makes you think that?" she pressed. "It's just a feeling I have. I —" he paused. "I can't imagine who else would be capable of breaking into Hogwarts unnoticed, without leaving a trace." "What about Lucius Malfoy?" "Malfoy's still in France, and hasn't done anything noticeable ever since he fled there, according to the French Aurors." She absently leafed through some papers on her desk, a sign that she was trying to make a decision. "Thank you for telling me," she eventually said, her expression unreadable. "Auror Robertson is still working on locating Corban Yaxley, I presume?" "Yes he is." "And I seem to remember telling you a while back to do things by the book?" "I believe so, yes," he replied carefully. "Good. I think that's it for today, then. I'll see you next week." "Have a good day," he said, feeling a headache coming on. After a frustratingly slow work day, dinner, a nightmare about Sirius, and a rushed breakfast, Harry found himself once again in the Hogwarts Headmistress' office, seated across from a grim-faced Professor McGonagall. "Things are not going well," she said. "I've heard that before." "Your report about the progress of Bilfy's murder was worrying, Mr Potter, and for the first time in thirteen years, I'm dreading the arrival of students next week." "So am I, Professor," Harry said seriously. "Which is why we're here to discuss Auror patrols." "Indeed. Have you reconsidered my request for six permanent on-duty Aurors?" "I have. I think we can afford it for the time being, seeing as we're unable to progress any further in the cases. However, we will probably need to recall a few should there come any change in that." "And when do you expect that change to happen?" "Two weeks from now, at the bare minimum, but realistically I think we'll be stuck with what we have for three, maybe even four weeks. So I propose we make a schedule for September, and plan a new one at the end of the month." The Headmistress twirled her wand in her wrinkled hands. "Those initial few weeks should be enough deterrent for our unknown killer. I think I can agree to your proposal, although I do want to make this quite public." "To give the killer a clear signal to stay away?" "Indeed." "Chances are, and this depends on their personality, it'll serve more as an invitation." "I've thought of that, but I'm willing to take the risk. Reluctantly so, might I add. That's why I want so many Aurors here." "I understand. Alright, agreed, on one condition." "Yes?" "This murder case stays a secret." She looked ready to explode. "I beg your pardon?" she asked with a tight voice. "Professor," Harry said, trying to placate her. "There is more at stake here than just this case." That did not help. "I will not take part in your underhanded political games, Mr Potter!" she cried, interrupting whatever excuse he was planning to string together. "I thought better of you, and Kingsley even so!" "Then don't take part," he said, swallowing the sting he felt at her remark. "All it takes is one statement, and if that's too much for you as well, let me do the talking. But this case will not become public." He met her furious gaze challengingly, reminding himself that he could always Floo in Kingsley should she need more convincing. "Merlin help me, it's the last thing I want to do, but alright," she said eventually, still staring him directly in the eyes. "Thank you," he said. "You will give the statement, but I will review it before you present it to the press." "Of course," he said. "Very well, then. Off you go." "Have a nice day, Professor," he said as he stepped into the fireplace. She didn't reply. Steam billowed up to the arched ceiling of King's Cross station. The Hogwarts Express was to leave in five minutes. After his weekly talk with Amelia, which had been growing ever more strained as the school year approached, Harry had rushed to Andy's home in Pembrokeshire. He'd expected to find a panicked Teddy desperately searching for the last few things he'd forgotten to pack, but that hadn't been the case this year. His dull brown hair clued Harry in that something was wrong today. "Excellent timing, for once," he told his godson, walking by his side toward the train. "I'm glad you're beginning to learn." But a despondent "yeah" was the only reply he got from Teddy. Harry and Andromeda shared a worried look. The boy had been in a strange mood all day, and it left them puzzled. The upside to that, of course, was that he didn't get distracted by everything while packing. Teddy normally had the attention span of a squirrel. "C'mon," Harry said, patting him on the shoulder. "Let's find you a compartment before they're all full." "Alright," Teddy sighed. They set off again, walking past posters of a serious-looking Harry and McGonagall talking to a number of journalists. "Auror guards at Hogwarts following wand-maker's murder!" read the subtitle. The press had bought the connection to Ollivander's case, and he thanked his lucky stars for that. "Oh, I think I see Jenny Carr over there! I'll go and have a quick chat. Don't leave without saying goodbye, though, mister!" Andy said, wagging her finger at Teddy. Harry took this one-on-one moment, kindly given to them by Andy, to cast a few privacy charms around him, his godson, and their luggage cart. "Alright, Teddy. What's wrong?" He shrugged in reply, purposefully looking away. "You said I could tell you anything, right?" "Yes, that's right." "And that you wouldn't be mad at me?" "I could never be mad at you," Harry said, the word "son" on the tip of his tongue. "Only disappointed," he cheekily added. "That's even worse!" Teddy said, and finally he cracked a smile. His hair even got a shade lighter. "It's supposed to be," he replied mock-sternly. "So you promise you won't be cross with me?" "Promise." He visibly steeled himself. "Well, it just hit me yesterday, y'know, when I was packing my trunk. I had it last week and yesterday as well, but…" Harry suppressed a stab of annoyance at his godson's habit of beating around the bush. "But I… I just sometimes wish my parents were here… instead of you." Harry swallowed at the sight of his forlorn godson. "I see." "And it's not because you and Andy have been bad to me," he hastily added. "It's just…" "That we can't fill that void?" "Is that bad?" he asked in a small voice. "Bad? No, no, of course it's not bad!" Harry said. "I reckon it's completely normal to feel that way from time to time. I had that too with Mrs. Weasley, you know. Doesn't matter how kind they are to you, and how much they do for you, you always wish for that something more." "Yeah." They were silent for a moment. Harry glanced at his watch. Two minutes left. "Harry?" "Yes?" "How come I miss them, even though I've never met them?" That brought him up short. He opened his mouth, but words evaded him as he tried to grasp at fleeting thoughts he normally kept locked away in the dusty attic of his mind. "Sorry for asking," Teddy mumbled, his downcast expression and dark hair colour returning in full force. "I reckon I should leave now. Look, Andy's coming back." Harry wanted to explain his silence to Teddy, but there was no time. He reluctantly cancelled the privacy charms as Andy emerged from the bustling crowd of parents and children hastily saying their goodbyes. "Good, you didn't leave while I was gone," she said. "She has so much trust in us, doesn't she?" Harry asked Teddy. The corners of his godson's lips twitched faintly in reply. Then Andy descended upon him and wrapped him in a big hug. "Now be good this year." "Yes, Andy." "Write loads." "Every week." "And do your best in class." "I will." "I love you very much, my dear," she said, planting a firm kiss on his cheek. She said not a word about the dangers and Aurors at Hogwarts, Harry noticed. "Love you too, Andy," Teddy murmured. She let him go and stepped aside for Harry. Before he hugged his godson, he fished the Marauders Map from his pocket, but he held his finger up to stop Teddy from grabbing it. "I will not hear any more stories of you breaking into other common rooms, you hear me?" "Loud and clear." "And I want you to be extra careful this year. No more nightly trips around the castle." "I guess," he said, looking down at the concrete floor. "Look at me." Teddy looked up, but it was clearly the last thing he wanted to do. "Promise me. Please." That last word did the trick. "Alright," he said reluctantly. "But why are there Aurors at Hogwarts? Apart from Mr. Ollivander's murder?" "It's safer that way," he said evasively. "Oh. Will you be there as well?" "No, I can't," he said sadly. "I'm sorry." "Oh." He took the map from him, and Harry embraced him tightly. Teddy never even returned the hug. They separated soon after, and started carrying the trunk towards the train, just as the final whistle blew. Teddy only half-heartedly waved back at them as the train pulled away, and he disappeared from the window all too soon. "What was it?" Andy asked him after the Express fully left the station building. "He misses his parents," Harry replied. "I thought so. These sort of days have always been hard on him," she said. "He'll be back to his bouncy self in no-time." "I hope so, Andy," he sighed. "I'm worried for him." "You always are. And now we know where he gets his moodiness from," she teased. "Yeah, and we both know where he gets his sprightliness from." She snickered. "Come on, grump," she said, hooking her arm around his. "You need to get back to work." Unfortunately there wasn't much to do at the office. The Veritaserum still had to ripen for a good while, and there were otherwise no new developments in the case. Harry instead instructed the others who had nothing on their hands to finally start sorting out the mess of props and things at the far end of the office, and then he visited the Auror Acadamy to take his mind off things. Not much had been cleaned up by the time he returned. He figured it wouldn't hurt to leave work a bit earlier than usual. Ginny wasn't due home for another hour, and that gave him a perfect opportunity to once again test the Elder Wand in the attic. He hadn't had time for that the past few weeks, and he was eager to see if there was any change in the wand's behaviour. But his session, which included attempting to levitate old, dusty books, was just as fruitless as before. He angrily banished the books to the other end of the attic and stormed downstairs again. He knew he was missing something important, but it evaded him, to his utmost frustration. In his anger, he added more spices to the curry than he should have, but he evaded explaining his mood to Ginny. "You're a spicy girl," he said. "Thought it was fitting." "Ha ha," she replied sarcastically. But he saw his own sadness reflected in her eyes. Of course she knew, and he was abusing her willingness to let it go. He vowed, like he'd done so many times before, to tell her about the wand soon. He had no excuse. Distraction came in the shape of a bombshell of an article. The latest edition of The Quibbler opened with an in-depth analysis called The Dark Side of Shacklebolt's Reign. It wouldn't be a Quibbler piece if it didn't miss the point entirely, but it did raise Harry's eyebrows when Hermione pushed it under his nose during lunch. "Everyone's talking about it," she said, looking at him worriedly while he quickly read through it. "This is all bollocks, isn't it?" "Of course it is," Harry said dismissively. "No, I can assure you that there's no secret deal with a galvanist sorcerer from Geneva to try and resurrect Dumbledore and reinstate him as Supreme Mugwump." "But—" Harry stopped her and cast a Muffliato after making sure no one was watching them. "But are they onto something? There's a lot of secrecy around Kingsley and you. Too much, Harry. You won't even share some things with Ron and me." Harry's eyes unconsciously drifted to her belly, which had started to strain her muggle three-piece suit, and then up again. "There's only one thing right now that we have to keep secret," he said. "But that's only temporary, and—" "It's got to do with what I had to look up for you, isn't it?" she interrupted him. "About the house-elves? I can help you, Harry. I always have." "You know I can't answer that," he said. "It'll pass soon, and then I'll tell you all about it. Promise." "This isn't just about me. I'll hold you to that, but people are becoming suspicious of you and Kingsley, and it directly feeds the attention Lord Castlereagh is getting now." "Trust me, we know," he said morosely. "Is Luna back home again, by the way?" "You want to talk to her about this?" she asked, nodding at the magazine. "No, she's still in Ecuador as far as I know. I haven't heard from her in ages, though." "I got a letter from her a week or two ago," he said. "She said she had a brilliant idea as she was climbing a volcano called Chimborazo there, something about how the magical animals were all connected somehow." "We'll no doubt read about it when she gets back, then," she said, still with that twinge of annoyance at their eccentric friend, even after all those years. "Anyway, lunchtime is over." "Could I keep the magazine for a bit?" "Of course." He leafed through it on his way back to his office. Fortunately, the conspiracy theories cooked up by Xenophilius Lovegood were too outlandish to be believable. But the man had nonetheless laid out perfectly what everyone's role was in the Minister's inner circle, and it crept on his nerves. Sometime later that week, just before he entered the Auror office to start the day, Harry thought he saw Castlereagh and his well-dressed consorts disappear around the corner. Pondering the appearance of the Wizengamot prominent in this part of the Ministry, he didn't notice Craig Robertson waiting for him at the door to his office. "Morning, Potter," he said conversationally, dragging him back to the present. "Oh, morning. D'you have any news?" "Let's discuss it in your office," he said, glancing at passers-by in the hallway. "Good idea," Harry said, ushering them both inside. "It's been a while since you've had any updates. How's it going?" Harry asked as they sat down in the leather chairs opposite each other. Robertson took off his worn blazer while Harry grabbed a notebook. "Frustrating, but that doesn't matter now," the old man said, enthusiasm dripping from his voice. "I think I found a way to contact Yaxley." Harry's head snapped up from the notebook. "How?" he demanded. A tingle of excitement sparked to life in his stomach. "I followed a lead to Peckham. There's a pub there, run by non-Hogwarts-goers. Proper sleazy, run down, hidden away in a dark alley, you know the deal. They say he was spotted there a couple weeks ago." "Of course it's in Peckham," he commented, hastily scribbling down the details. "Go on." "I went there, singled out a regular who was completely out of it. Charmed him when no one was looking, followed him home, and asked him about Yaxley. Are you gonna file this, by the way?" "Depends," Harry said carefully, scratching his quickly-growing stubbly beard. "Why?" "I might've used the Imperius Curse on the bloke." "Then let's not write that down. What did he say?" "Said he saw him a couple times. Better yet, he thinks he'll come back again," he said, sounding just as excited as Harry felt. "This is it, Potter! We've got him!" He lost control over his arms and slapped the desk in ecstasy. "Bloody hell Robertson, you genius!" he exclaimed. "We'll have to look at what to do with this now. In fact, I'll do that right away." He stopped writing and looked up at the man in front of him. "You're a bloody genius," he repeated. "Take the day off, I'd say. Spend some time with the missus." "I think I might head off to that fancy restaurant in our street," he mused. "Assuming it'll be on the cost of the Ministry?" "I'll see to it," he said merrily. "Thank you, Craig. You have no idea how much of a blessing this is." "I don't think I want to, if I'm honest with you. But thank you, Harry. Have a good day." "You too!" He replayed the conversation in his mind as he marched through the Ministry halls towards Kingsley's office. After a quick word with the secretary, and much urging that this could not wait, he stepped inside. His eyes grew wide when he saw Castlereagh standing in the middle of the office, gesturing wildly at Kingsley, who sat in his chair with his arms crossed. Conversation between the lord and a clearly irritated Kingsley halted as they both turned to Harry. "What is the meaning of this?" Castlereagh demanded. "Auror Potter, this is a closed meeting, so I demand you leave until we're finished." "Actually, Lord Castlereagh, I believe we were just finished," Kingsley said. "Thank you for your time, and I will consider your offer." Castlereagh closed his mouth, his thick beard bristling at the dismissal. He then swerved around on the spot, jacket billowing around him, and stalked out of the room. "Thank you, Harry, for that interruption," Kingsley said. "Have a seat." "What was that all about?" "A proposal for peaceful transition of power," the man said tiredly. "He didn't like my answer. But enough of that, what brings you here?" "Oh," he said, dragging his thoughts back away from the politician. "Did you read The Quibbler?" "You're the third to ask today," he said, accepting the magazine from Harry. "But I never thought I'd one day be the target of Xeno's conspiracies. Let's see here; the galvanism is rubbish of course, and so is this secret deal between an Austrian minister and us to exterminate all the last remaining Snorkacks living in Europe. But it does worry me how he knows exactly who my contacts are." "I thought Harry the Henchman Head Auror was a bit over-the-top," he supplied. "Obviously. But how did he know our eyes within the conservative wing of the Wizengamot? We're lucky it's The Quibbler, otherwise we might've lost our only eyes in those circles." He closed the paper. "Anyway, I can't imagine this is the only thing that brought you here." "No, I saved the best for last," Harry said. "You're not gonna believe this, Kingsley, but we've found Yaxley." "What?!" the man roared, veering up. "How? Where?" "Robertson found a bloke in Peckham who saw him in a pub a few times. He thinks he might return there soon." "Incredible," Kingsley breathed after a short pause. "Peckham, of all places. We should have monitored those kind of pockets of magicals more, but that doesn't matter now. Thank you, Harry." "Thank Robertson," he replied. "By the way, I told him he could have dinner on the Ministry's cost." "He could order fifteen hookers and a bucket of coke on our budget and I still wouldn't care," Kingsley stated. "But really, thank you. I'll handle it from here. Do expect a message tomorrow from me." "Alright," Harry said. The slightly ominous implications didn't damper his excitement, but later that day, as he came home and snogged Ginny senseless on the couch, he still felt the foreboding feeling niggling at the back of his mind. |
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