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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: 227432; Chapter Total: 17431 Awards: View Trophy Room |
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Harry Potter stared at the Daily Prophet in astonishment, amazed as he was with the nerve of the writer. “Minister Shacklebolt unfit to rule? Lord Castlereagh slams the Minister in his manifesto; calls for return to traditional values”, read the title. That was the first oddity of the day. Intrigued, Harry leafed to the last pages and read the lord’s announcement. His mood, which had been so good when he woke up that morning, soured quickly. Castlereagh called Kingsley out on failing to capture all the remaining Death Eaters, and simultaneously criticized his harsh policy in reforming the Wizarding world after the war. With words like “soft power,” “appeasement,” and “cooperation,” the man called for the Minister to restore relations with the traditional core of the Wizengamot. While the title was sensationalized, Castlereagh was clear in his more conservative political positions. The accusations still rang in his head as he pulled on his crimson Auror robes. He made sure the Elder Wand was strapped securely to his left arm and still invisible to everyone else before he Flooed out of Grimmauld Place and appeared in the Ministry's entrance hall. As always, his gaze was drawn to the enormous fountain in the middle of the Ministry hall. It was a massive glass ball, with a gold ring embedded in it and water shooting out the top. The ball floated gracefully above the fountain pond beneath it, and had wings attached to it that stretched through the great Ministry hall all the way to the ceiling. It sparkled in the sunlight that beamed down from the magical glass ceiling up above. Harry remembered, and not with fondness, the process that led up to this memorial. The war still weighed heavily on him. His relationship with Ginny wasn’t going as well as they had imagined it, and he was still having trouble adapting to his new job as an Auror. And then the committee responsible for the new monument in the Ministry hall had presented him their plan: a larger-than-life scene in which Harry was on his knees, surrounded by wicked forces as he killed Voldemort. He had shot that idea down immediately, and he was very glad that Kingsley had supported him and forced them to come up with another design instead. He didn’t think the committee would have taken his wishes all too seriously otherwise. They liked their own design too much for that. He shook off that old bitterness and stepped into an elevator crammed with witches, wizards, and other magical beings. It was just another day at the office. He greeted a few people that passed by in the narrow corridors, and received his usual warm welcome as he stepped into the Auror office. Leslie Proudfoot, Jordan Bennett and Ron Weasley were all there, as well as some of the new recruits that had filled in the gaps left behind by the deaths last summer. Watching those empty desks all day had been tough, and always brought him back to that fateful day when he and Ginny had been chased down by an insane billionaire in a helicopter. But watching new recruits and interns sitting at the desks of old, trusted colleagues and friends wasn’t any easier. His melancholic mood surprised him, and that was the second oddity of the day. His coffee helped him break through his dip, and he dug into the paperwork in the filing cabinet at the back of his office. Working through the wide range of documents, and filing them away once he was done with them was probably his least favourite part of the day, but it was one of those things that just had to happen. He denied another parole request from a dodgy potion seller, checked the documentation of the latest arrests for any inconsistencies or poor handling, and worked his way through his daily stream of work-related mail. He closed it off by reading up on the progress of the new recruits from the Auror academy. This, on the other hand, had become his favourite part of the day lately. The office had had a serious lack of recruits for the longest time, especially during the generation that went to Hogwarts at the time of Voldemort’s second rising. But that problem seemed to be ebbing away now, and everyone in the office was pleased with the quality agents the academy consistently sent them now. It was much too early for Harry to think about retirement, but this work gave him the reassurance that this office would be in good shape when that day eventually came. Those reports, as well as a good lunch with his co-workers, with many jokes made about the manifesto of Castlereagh, drove the last vestiges of his troubled morning away, and before he knew it, it was time for his weekly meeting with Amelia Bones, head of the DMLE. The old, respected witch was still the powerful politician she always was, and still knew every little thing that went on in this institution. They shared the happenings of that week as well as their plans for the next, discussed the prosperous state of the office, and Harry politely parried any subtle hint that he should take over her chair after her impending retirement. He made his way back to his desk afterward, but the moment he sat down, Ron entered his office. “Harry, mate, are you busy?” he asked. “I just sat down.” His gaze fell on the way his friend was wringing his hands. “What’s the matter?” “Just wanted to talk with you. D’you have a minute?” “Sure, I’ll just…” He glanced at the file he’d dug into before the meeting, and pushed it aside. “I’ll do this later. Do you want to go somewhere?” “Yeah, I was thinking we could get a coffee above ground.” “Sounds like a plan.” “Everyone’s talking about Castlereagh,” Ron noted as they exited the office. “I’m not surprised,” Harry said. “This is the first real sound of opposition against Kingsley since we got rid of most of the old guard from the Ministry. It’s absolute drivel, though. Castlereagh purposefully ignores why exactly we reform so much.” “Yeah, but don’t you think we could do with improving relations with the Wizengamot? They’re blocking every policy they can at the moment because they hate Kingsley’s guts — and yours.” “No,” Harry said firmly. “They’ve had their moment in the sun for long enough, and we all know where it lead to.” Ron refrained from further comment. They sat down a while later at a small table against the wall of a quaint cafe as they discussed Amelia’s retirement plans. “I still don’t understand why you won’t take the job, you know,” Ron said. “Well it’s like I said, I just can’t see myself withering away behind an office desk for the rest of my life. I didn’t become an Auror for that, you know?” “Yeah, I know, mate, and you’re right at that. But you don’t have to be there all the time, right. You could at least take it off her for now, and let her retire before she gets too old, and then stay at that position for a couple years at most. Rake it in for a while, you know? No one’s gonna stop you from going back to the Auror office after that.” Harry paused to take a long sip of his cappuccino. “That might not be a bad idea. You should listen to Hermione more often.” Ron’s ears reddened and he quickly took a large gulp of coffee. In the past, that wouldn’t have bothered Harry that much, but Ron was not supposed to act like that anymore now that they were in their thirties, and this behaviour didn’t suggest that. Another oddity. “What’s wrong, Ron?” he asked. “Well… thing is…” “C’mon spit it out.” “What, the coffee?” “Yeah, why not? All over the table, if you please.” Ron chuckled, and Harry was a bit more relieved. “Right, so there’s a couple things I wanted to say, but they’re a bit big.” “This better not make me spit out my coffee,” Harry commented as he took a sip. “That sip is at your own risk,” Ron said. “Cause, erm…” He took a deep breath. “I want to quit.” Harry didn’t spit out his drink, at least. He quickly swallowed it instead. “Uhm… didn’t see that coming. That’s…” he tried to think of the appropriate words, but they escaped him. “What do you think of it?” Ron asked nervously. “Well, I dunno what to think, really,” Harry said. “That’s a really big decision, I mean… What are you gonna do after this? What made you decide this?” “That’s the second thing I wanted to mention,” Ron began. “Mate, you’ve got a lot on your plate, haven’t you?” “You have no idea,” he chuckled. “Well, go on then, tell me,” Harry said. Ron opened and closed his mouth a few times, his eyes darting around the room as he tried to say the obviously very troubling words. “Hermione’s pregnant.” This time Harry did spit out his coffee. Into the cup, luckily. Mostly, anyway. “Blimey!” Harry uttered. “A baby… Ron… God, I guess, congratulations! That’s… wow!” He stood up, and Ron followed, and they exchanged a back-slapping hug. They sat down again, Ron beaming at him, his red ears and cheeks clashing with his hair. Harry felt himself mirroring that stupid grin. “Yeah, it’s… I think I reacted about the same way when she told me,” Ron said. “I just… I’m gonna be a dad, Harry! And you’re gonna be Uncle Harry!” “A dad…” Harry repeated. “And Uncle Harry, blimey… Do your parents know? Does anyone else? And when did you find out?” “Hermione told me last week, but we haven’t told anyone yet. We wanted to do it appropriately, you know? Lots of people to tell, right, so we thought it’d be best to tell it at the Weasley dinner coming Sunday.” “Yeah, good shout, that. So that’s why you want to quit, then?” Ron’s wide grin dimmed somewhat. “Yeah. I had a bit of time to think about what I was gonna do, y’know. ‘Cos I can’t be fighting dark wizards anymore, right. I’m gonna be a dad!” “No, I understand completely, more than I’d like,” Harry told him, his grin also fading as he thought of his godson, Teddy Lupin. “Yeah… So I figured I’d get a safer job. Maybe I could help George out in the shop for a while. Lord knows he needs an extra pair of hands. He’s got them full of Angelina already, eh?” Harry snorted. “She’s a handful, yeah, lucky bloke. But good luck convincing him, though. He is a Weasley after all.” “I’ll choose to ignore that,” Ron said good-naturedly. “It’ll be alright, I think.” “Yeah… Ron and Hermione, parents… Who’d have thought?” “I still can’t believe it at times, you know?” Ron sighed. “Hang on, is that our caller?” “You felt it too?” Harry asked, veering up in his seat. He grabbed the small round transmitting device that he and Kingsley had added to the standard Auror gear set last year. It vibrated and chirruped shrilly, the signal that they were needed back in the Ministry immediately. “Must be urgent, then. C’mon, let’s go back.” They arrived back in the office to find one of the callers waiting for them at the entrance. “What is it, Suzie?” Harry asked. The long-term DMLE caller’s grim look didn’t bode well. “A house-elf has been murdered — at Hogwarts,” she said quietly as she followed Harry and Ron into the office. Several Aurors within hearing range looked up in shock. Ron muttered a curse next to him. “I see,” Harry said slowly. “How long ago was this?” “McGonagall said the blood had already dried by the time she discovered it. I’ve opened up the Floo in your office, it’ll send you straight through into the Headmistress’s office.” “Thanks.” She gave him a short nod and strode back the way she came. “What d’you want to do?” Ron asked. “This is Hogwarts,” Harry said as he marched into his office and shut the door behind him. “A murdered house-elf usually isn’t a case for us, but this is Hogwarts. I’m making this my case. You have time as well, right?” “Mate, I’ve had absolutely nothing to do the past month or so. This summer’s been quiet.” “That’s good,” Harry said distractedly, stashing away the open file on his desk. “You’re with me. I’m thinking Proudfoot as well, and maybe one of the new recruits. That girl, Claire Johnson, she sounds ready for field work I think.” “You sure?” “Yeah. Come on, let’s go.” “This feels oddly familiar,” Leslie Proudfoot said. “This one’s a bit less torn apart, though,” Ron added. “More cuts, less bites.” “This one is called Bilfy!” an affronted Minerva McGonagall interjected. “And I expected more professionalism from experienced Aurors!” “Apologies, Professor,” Harry said before Ron could open his mouth again. “It’s just that the shock has worn off after all these years, and we’ve gotten a bit less overwhelmed by sights like this. I assure you that Aurors Weasley and Proudfoot take their jobs very seriously.” “I should hope so,” McGonagall bristled. “I can’t look at this sight for too long, gentlemen. I’ll be in my office if you need me.” “Didn’t get any more relaxed with her age, did she?” Ron muttered the moment she disappeared around the corner of the seventh-floor hallway. “Never was, never will,” Harry said. “Considering a house-elf was murdered in her school, it’s not really surprising she’s upset. And you two,” he said, pointing at his two colleagues, “need to remember to act with more discretion when you’re around others. We see this stuff often enough, but they don’t. Try to remember that, okay?” Ron had the decency to look somewhat contrite, but Proudfoot just shrugged. Harry sighed and turned towards the body of the house-elf. “So, dead house-elf, died last night, appears to be cut up with a big knife, and no witnesses to be found. Any ideas? Johnson?” Claire Johnson, the rookie, looked up from the body, appearing somewhat startled. “No, sir,” she said quietly. “Maybe there was a fight among the elves,” Proudfoot suggested. “Do elves fight?” “Dunno,” Ron said. “I suppose we could ask Hermione.” “This one’s gonna be kept under covers for now,” Harry said. “The letters to the new students are being delivered right now, don’t want to cause a panic if we can avoid it.” Claire looked somewhat troubled at that. “You’re not the first one to react like that,” Proudfoot said, having noticed it as well. “Our society is a small world. Too much bad news every day and people will get paranoid and start speculating about everything. Best to not shout around this kind of stuff.” She didn’t comment, but didn’t look convinced in the slightest. “What’s our motto, lass?” Proudfoot asked her. “Erm, it’s Semper tuebor,” Claire said. “I will always protect.” “Protect, maintain, yeah. Try to remember that. You’ll get used to this part of the job before you know it, so just follow our lead, and you’ll be fine.” “But back to Bilfy here,” Harry said. “Let’s do a search around the hallway, look for any clues, tracks, traces, and let’s take a sample of his blood as well. And after that…” he paused to look his colleagues in the eye. “We’re all interviewing some house-elves.” Three groans followed that statement. “Are you sure you didn’t see anything?” Harry asked the wide-eyed, trembling house-elf in front of him. The elf looked around the classroom, nervously fiddling with its floppy ears. “No, sir. I’s not seen strange, sir. Wilpsy is a good elf, sir!” “Tell me what you did last night, then,” Harry said patiently, making notes at the same time. “I’s not supposed to say, sir. House Elves do never betray their master’s trust!” Wilpsy said. “That’s all right, Wilpsy, I have a document from Professor McGonagall here, with permission to know her Elves’ tasks.” He pushed a hastily scribbled note with the Headmistress’s seal stamped on it towards the trembling elf. He picked it up, sniffed it, inspected it closely, and then gave it back to Harry. “I’s a cook, sir,” he said. “But I’s not having much work in the summer, so I’s help the Professors restore the castle instead, sir.” “Were you doing that last night as well, then?” “Yes, sir. Wilpsy was help Professor Hagry with the painty’s on the sixth floor. Then I’s went to sleep with the other elves, sir.” “That means you were only one floor below where the murder took place,” Harry said. The elf wilted away before his eyes, so he hastily continued. “Don’t worry, this is just a simple interview. I’m just trying to figure out what happened, and you’re helping immensely with this.” “Is I?” Wilpsy asked, perking up. “Yes, you are. Now could you tell me if you’ve heard any ruckus last night while you were helping Hagrid?” The elf took on a look of concentration. It looked comical on his pointy, rat-like face. “No, sir,” it said. “But I’s not working at dark. I’s went sleeping before the evil thing happened, sir.” “I see. And at what time did you and Hagrid stop working?” Again the elf looked pensive. “It was three hours after third cooking time, sir.” “And at what hour do you cook?” “Six hours after second cooking time, sir.” Harry balled his left fist under the table and breathed in and out slowly. “Alright. Thank you for your help. It was much appreciated. You can go.” The elf thanked him, hopped off the stool, and toddled away. He buried his head in his hands after Wilpsy left the empty classroom. He was going to have to ask McGonagall for the elves’ schedules if he were to make any sense of these testimonies. He crossed Wilpsy off the interrogation list and asked the next elf in. It was going to be a very long afternoon. He took a quick pause in between the interrogations of the elves to return to the Ministry and discuss the situation with Kingsley. He marched quickly across the hallways from the emergency Floo in the DMLE towards the Ministerial office, carefully schooling his features to not show any distress as he passed various Ministry employees. As he stepped inside Kingsley’s office, the undersecretary looked up from a list of forms on her desk. “He’s expecting you, you can go right through,” she said. He nodded at her and pushed open the door to his suite. “Ah, Harry, come in,” Kingsley said. He stood in front of one of the tall windows, watching the charmed view over a small city park. “Still not finished at Hogwarts?” he asked, turning to him and leaning over his broad leather chair. “No, it’s taking a while. Is this about how we’re going to make this case public?” “Then we’ll keep this short, and yeah, it is. We’re keeping total silence about this case, at least until we’re sure this wasn’t the work of the last remaining supporters of Voldemort.” “I thought the same thing.” “I knew you would. The Wizengamot is getting louder and louder now that the war is becoming a distant memory. You’ve read the Prophet today, right?” “Castlereagh?” “That man is every bit as extreme as the most conservative members of the Wizengamot,” the Minister said harshly. “His talk of moderation and dialogue is just their first step in making the institution the most powerful force in the Ministry again. “Moderation and dialogue” is just a thin veneer to bring back exactly what we’ve tried so hard to remove. And this elf case will only give them more ammunition to ruin both me and what we’ve achieved so far. The Ministry is more tolerant and humane than it has ever been, and they will not take this away from us again.” “Are you sure about this?” Harry asked, slightly intimidated by the man’s intensity today. “If this leaks it’ll only get worse.” “It won’t leak out,” Kingsley said. “We’ll make sure of that, I trust you.” “Then I’ll go back to Hogwarts now.” “Good man. We’ll speak soon.” Harry nodded and went straight back to the wizarding school to finish up the interviews. After a few long hours of talking to house-elves in various states of distress, the four Aurors gathered up in the Headmaster’s office with Professor McGonagall to share some of their findings with her. “The elves saw or heard nothing coming from the seventh floor,” Harry said to her, rubbing his eyes. “But Auror Johnson interviewed an elf who worked near the entrance. Johnson?” Johnson breathed in shakily and sat up straighter in her chair. “Erm, yeah. One minute.” She leafed through her neat set of notes with shaking hands. Harry wished he could make her more at ease. He had absolutely no use for frightened Aurors. “Hooky was working in the greenhouses, and she said she saw something moving around near the edge of the forest towards the end of her shift.” “Thank you,” he said with what he hoped was a friendly smile. “So as you can see, Professor, it’s a true mystery. We know two things: that Bilfy was on cleaning duty when she died. It looks like she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. And Hooky’s story tells us that our killer may have snuck in and out of the castle. But we’re far from sure about that, so I do want to come back tomorrow and interview the teachers as well, if that’s alright with you. Just to be sure.” The Headmistress’s lips pressed together tightly. “That is a grave situation, Mr Potter. It will have serious repercussions. We might be forced to close the school until the killer is caught, if what you’re saying is true.” “It won’t have repercussions for now,” Harry said. “Oh?” McGonagall asked. Her disapproving gaze almost made Harry back down. “I’ve had a word with Kingsley,” he continued. “He wants to keep this under wraps from the Ministry until we have a suspect.” “And do you agree with that decision?” McGonagall demanded. Harry swallowed. “It’s not my decision to make, Professor,” he said, hoping she would relent. She crossed her arms and kept staring at him. He cleared his throat. “Kingsley’s been under fire lately. The Wizengamot thinks he didn’t do enough to catch the remaining Death Eaters after the War, and they’re using that to try and discredit him. Have you read Lord Castlereagh’s manifesto in the Prophet today?” The Professor nodded stiffly. “We just want to make sure we’re not dealing with a Death Eater here before we make the case public. It would only feed the cause of the Wizengamot.” “Then we’d better hope that we aren’t dealing with one,” McGonagall said. “I tell you, though, this secrecy won’t do you any good!” Harry briefly touched the second wand hidden under the sleeve of his left arm. “We’ll be leaving, Professor, if that’s alright with you,” he said carefully. “Yes, it’s already past six. You all have families waiting for you. Though I presume you cannot divulge them anything either?” “Err, no.” McGonagall sighed, pinched the bridge of her nose, and stood up to lead them to the hearth. “Very well then. Good night, Aurors.” “We’ll try to keep you updated, Professor. And we’ll be back tomorrow at eleven to interview the teachers,” Harry said as his colleagues stepped through the fireplace. “I genuinely hope you and Kingsley know what you’re doing,” the Headmistress said tiredly after the others had gone. Harry smiled a weary smile, and Flooed back to the office. His watch showed 6:30 as he stepped past the Fidelius Charm and pushed open the door to number 12, Grimmauld Place. He was glad he and Ginny were late eaters, otherwise he’d have missed loads of meals over the past few months. “Is that you, Harry?” he heard her yell as the door closed behind him. “Yes, it’s me!” he called back. He hung up his coat, took off his shoes and padded into the living room. “Scoot,” he said as he approached the couch. “Good to see you too,” Ginny snorted. He sunk down next to her and gave her a peck on the lips. “Yeah well,” he said. “You try being cheerful after interviewing loads of house-elves all day.” “Oh dear,” Ginny chuckled. “Don’t let Kreacher hear you moan like that about his kin.” “Kreacher doesn’t hear anything unless you shout at him these days,” Harry retorted. “Hardly leaves his room anymore either.” “True, poor thing. Big new case then?” “Yeah,” he sighed, his smile fading a bit. “Anything you can tell me?” “Nah, Kingsley wants to play politics.” Ginny pouted. “Not even a teeny hint for your poor old girlfriend?” Harry shook his head sadly. “Sorry, Gin. My lips are sealed.” “Mm. Best put them to use in another way then,” Ginny said, leaning towards him suggestively. Harry pushed back and turned her on her back. “Oh, Miss Weasley, I will,” he growled. They needed to start cooking soon, but at the moment, he really didn’t care about that. |
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