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Together | ||||||
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Category: Post-DH/AB Characters:Harry/Ginny Genres: Drama, General, Romance Warnings: Death, Extreme Language, Intimate Sexual Situations, Mild Language, Mild Sexual Situations, Sexual Situations, Violence Story is Complete Rating: R Reviews: 128 Summary: "I've had enough trouble for a lifetime," Harry Potter tells his friends after the Battle of Hogwarts. Life, however, is not done with Harry. The Wizarding community is left in chaos and it's up to Harry to fix it, and there's the small matter of repairing his relationship with Ginny, strained after months apart. Will Harry ever be able to settle and enjoy a simple life with the ones he loves? Hitcount: Story Total: 59511; Chapter Total: 2939 Awards: View Trophy Room Author's Notes: Another chapter, this one titled after Needle in the Hay by Elliott Smith. I'm sorry if this is illogical or confusing, and give endless thanks to those of you who have stuck with this story for this long. |
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Harry cracked one eye open, only to shut it again immediately. The sound of rain beating against the window panes and the comfort of his soft quilt were fantastic incentives to remain asleep. Of course, the presence of Ginny beside him, her naked back to him as she slept soundly, was equally persuasive. He reached out and brushed some of her hair from her shoulder so that it fell across her back in a fiery wave onto the mattress. Harry sighed contentedly. His touch caused Ginny to stir, and an arm stretched out from underneath the quilt and into the air, her shoulder giving a faint pop and she stretched. "Whatimizzit?" she mumbled, bringing her arm back down. "Nearly eleven," Harry replied, checking his watch. Ginny rolled under the quilt so that she faced him, smiling brilliantly as she wrapped her hand around the back of his neck and drew him in for a kiss. "Hello," she said as she pulled away, leaving Harry feeling a bit dizzy. "Hi," Harry breathed, running a hand along the length of her hip. "Merlin, we slept late," Ginny said. "It's Sunday," Harry reminded her. "We can stay in bed all day if we want." "No," Ginny groaned. "We can't. We're due at the Burrow for dinner tonight, remember?" Harry sighed, flopping over onto his back. He had, indeed, forgotten about their commitment. Mrs. Weasley, very concerned that the family hadn't been united in full since Victoire's first birthday party that May, had invited them to a mandatory Sunday meal at the house, despite Christmas being just around the corner. Even Charlie had been roped in, coming all the way from Romania. "Well, at least you can tell everyone your big news," Harry said. Ginny smiled. "'Ginny Weasley: International Quidditch Star' certainly has a ring, doesn't it?" "Well, I don't know about star. I was thinking more along the lines of 'Ginny Weasley: Best Bum in International Quidditch', but whatever works, I suppose," Harry said, earning himself a slap across the chest. "That's not very nice," Ginny said with a giggle. "Your poor arse is so underappreciated!" Harry cried. "By you!" Ginny laughed. "Mister Tit Man!" Harry eyed the offenders for a moment, before letting out a long sigh. "That's me," he said. "Mr. Tit Man. And if you ever feel ready to marry me, just know that you can be Mrs. Tit Man." "Well, I can't deny that it does sound appealing," Ginny said sarcastically, rolling over on top of him and kissing him again. Harry raked one hand through her hair, placing the other gently on her waist so he could roll her back underneath him. She sighed, breaking away and letting her head fall back onto her pillow. Harry pressed his lips down her neck and onto her collarbone. "Have I mentioned how fucking proud I am of you?" he asked her in between kisses, before letting his head fall back to her chest. "Only once, or twice, or maybe a thousand times this weekend," Ginny replied breathily. She had gotten the news that she would play on the English National Team the next summer on Friday. She and Harry had celebrated by spending nearly the entire weekend in bed, summoning bottle after bottle of champagne from the kitchen in their naked reverie. "You're incredible," Harry said, rolling back off of her and staring at the ceiling in quiet contemplation. "My girlfriend in the Quidditch World Cup! It's bloody fantastic." Ginny smiled beatifically before flopping onto her own stomach and combing a hand through her hair. "I'm proud of you too, you know," Ginny said. "You're doing fantastically, especially with everything you're working on for the arrest procedures." Kingsley had, as Arthur had suspected, bypassed Robards and offered to put Harry back on the Tuft murder case, but Harry had declined. He was mostly doing desk work with Padma now, monitoring illegal uses of magic in Wizarding communities, as well as working with Kingsley and Proudfoot to come up with even more reforms for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He was home before six o'clock most nights, and it had been nearly three months since he'd been to the office on a weekend. He willfully ignored office gossip about the Tuft case, but it had reached him that Williamson was making little progress in tracking down the Lestranges. Thankfully, there had been no incident since March, and Padma confided to Harry that Williamson and Savage believed the brothers had left the country after the murders. Still, mention of the Lestranges always put a small knot in Harry's stomach, and he insisted on casting one or two protective spells over the flat every night. He turned back to Ginny, regarding him carefully. "I'm proud of you," she repeated. "But if you want to get back on the case, Harry, you know all you need to do is ask Kingsley." Ginny had supported Harry's decision to step away from the case, but he knew she was concerned at his relative detachment to any news of the missing Death Eaters. It was fundamentally unlike Harry to be aware of a problem and not go running off to solve it. Harry smiled. "I'm happy where I am," he said, and it wasn't a lie. The extra time with Ginny had been lovely, and he felt they were closer than they ever had been before. Ginny smiled and sat up from the bed with a sheet wrapped around her torso. "I want to go to Diagon Alley and get Bill a birthday gift," she said. Harry groaned. "But that means we have to get out of bed now if we're going to make it to dinner on time." "We could save some time by showering together," Ginny suggested with a wink, letting the sheet fall back to the bed, exposing her naked chest. Harry raised his eyebrows and surveyed the image before him. "I suppose that would be the most practical thing to do," he said in his best Percy voice, smiling mischievously. The sun was just beginning to disappear beyond the hills as Harry and Ginny trudged up the front steps to the Burrow, bearing wine and Bill's birthday gift. Harry could hear the merry chatter from within as they approached the house, and before Ginny could let them in, the door was thrown open by Mrs. Weasley. "You're late!" she accused, though she was smiling happily. "Oh, you've brought wine! Thank you, Harry! How kind." "The wine was my idea," Ginny grumbled, kissing her mother on the cheek and depositing Bill's gift onto the kitchen table, before disappearing into the sitting room, likely in search of her niece. Harry let Mrs. Weasley verbally worry over his nutrition for a few moments as he set the wine down on the table. He then followed Ginny into the sitting room, where most of the family had taken up residence. There was a general cry of greeting as he entered the room. Ginny had located Victoire and was sitting cross-legged on the floor as the blonde toddler took uneasy steps between her aunt and her mother. Harry smiled as Victoire reached Ginny's outstretched arms and Ginny plucked her up, holding her in the air and blowing a raspberry on her tummy. Victoire cackled in laughed. "Alright, Harry?" Charlie asked, approaching Harry from the side. He passed Harry a beer and clapped him on the back. "Can't complain," Harry said with a smile. "How're the dragons?" "Good, good," Charlie answered happily. "We've just hatched a Romanian Longhorn that was abandoned by her mother while still an egg. Claws are measuring at three inches already!" "Nice," Harry said appreciatively, noticing a rather surly-looking scratch on Charlie's left cheek. He turned around to see Bill unwrapping the new Hobgoblins album that Ginny had bought that afternoon in Diagon Alley. "Brilliant!" he said happily. "Thanks, Ginny. Did you hear Stubby Boardman's doing his first tour in twenty years? Apparently he's finally recovered from that incident with the turnip." "I remember that," Mr. Weasley said with a laugh. "I thought Stubby was going to hex the whole audience when that turnip hit him." "I'm not surprised you remember, Arthur, given that you snuck out to that concert with Bilius, and he was the one who threw the bloody thing!" Mrs. Weasley said with an air of consternation as her children howled with laughter. "Yes, well, Bilius did always have a rather juvenile sense of humour," Mr. Weasley said, turning a bit red. "Humour is one word for it," Mrs. Weasley said with a scowl. "Anyways, dears, dinner's ready." The family migrated to the table, each holding quiet conversations between one another. Harry noticed Ron and Hermione seemed to be avoiding each other like the plague. From what Harry had picked up from the both of them, Ron's decision to leave the Ministry had done very little to improve upon their tenuous relationship. Ginny was becoming increasingly concerned as Hermione spent more and more hours at the Ministry and Ron visited Harry and Ginny's flat several times a week, seeking refuge from her various frustrations. They all took seats around the table, chatting merrily as Mrs. Weasley passed around dishes of delicious-smelling entrees. Harry happily scooped a large portion of shepherd's pie onto his plate as Molly looked fondly around the table at all of them. "Thank you all so much for being here," she said happily, leaning over to ruffle Victoire's little blonde head. "It looks wonderful, Mum," George said. "Fantastic, Molly," Angelina added. The pair of them were both exceptionally giddy, and kept sharing private, happy smiles with one another. The meal passed easily, Harry spending much of it explaining all the new reforms he and Kingsley were trying to get through at Azkaban to Bill and Charlie. The Ministry were holding the first open elections for the legislative body of the Wizengamot soon, and it was a major topic of conversation for all at the table. As Mrs. Weasley began to levitate desserts over, Ginny cleared her throat, attempting to get the attention of the various occupants of the table. Several heads turned in her direction. "Oi!" Ginny cried, causing Ron and George, who had been hotly debating whether or not Chudley was going to qualify for semifinals after the holiday, to turn in her direction. Ginny smiled, finally having the audience she desired. "You all heard that Keaton Flitney got Vanishing Sickness in September?" Ginny asked. A mournful attitude descended over the entire table. Flitney was one of the best Chasers in England, and the English National team qualifying for the 2002 World Cup could be largely attributed to his strengths on the pitch. The last the Prophet had reported, he was still in St. Mungo's, the right half of him completely missing. "We're having a nice time, Ginny," Ron remarked with a tone of profound loss. "Why'd you have to bring that up?" "Because Flitney was a reserve Chaser for Hawksworth, after Hawksworth got the sack for transfiguring that referee into a kiwi, and they didn't have a reserve in place for Flitney," Ginny explained. "So they held an open trial last month for Chaser for the English National Team, and I heard on Friday that I got it." There was a moment of silence as Ginny's news was processed by her family, until a great crash sounded across the room as Ron pushed himself back from the table, knocking over a potted plant in the process. "WHAT?" he shouted in disbelief. Bill and Charlie both gave great whoops of excitement, and even Percy stood from beside Ron, leaning towards Ginny from across the table to hear her better. "You're playing in the World Cup?" he cried. "Audrey, did you hear that?" Audrey, who had been pouring herself a rather generous measure of wine, looked startled at being addressed. "I quite like Posh and Becks," she said with a titter, earning herself a few confused looks from her brothers-in-law. Ginny laughed as the family erupted in chatter and cheers. A toast was quickly arranged. "To Ginny!" Bill roared. "The best Chaser in Europe!" "To Ginny!" echoed from around the table. The excitement died down as a bit as the family dug into dessert. Ginny, clearly ecstatic at the response from her family, grinned at Harry as Angelina suddenly leaned across the table. "Not to take away from Ginny's announcement, but George and I have some news we'd like to share, as well," she said happily, looking over to her boyfriend, who grinned happily. "Yeah, yeah, well, you could actually argue that Ginny went and stole our thunder," George said seriously. "I don't know if having a sister playing in the World Cup next summer is bigger news than a brother that got married yesterday." You could hear a pin drop as the family processed what George had just revealed. "A - a brother who did what?" Ginny asked, looking between George and Angelina in disbelief. "Got married," George answered pompously. "We figured we'd go ahead and make the whole thing official." "Congratulations!" Harry said loudly, for most of the family was still staring at George and Angelina open-mouthed and silent. He nudged Ginny. "Er - congratulations," she said quietly. Felicitations emerged slowly from the rest of the table while Mrs. Weasley procured her favorite scrap of lace and began quietly weeping into it. "I just don't see why you couldn't tell us," she cried softly. "Merlin, Mum, no one's died," George said in an irritated tone. "We just wanted to avoid all the hoopla, that's all." Angelina smiled kindly. "We thought maybe we could have a kind of party at our flat in a few weeks' time! Everything happened so quickly - we don't want anyone to feel left out." The family had little to say, but Charlie tactfully arranged another toast. It wasn't that Angelina was disliked, or that anyone begrudged their decision, it was simply just such a shock that no one knew exactly how to respond. Dishes were cleared away and plans were made to visit the newlywed's home in Diagon Alley next weekend for a small celebration. Ginny stood from the table. "I'm going out for a breath of air," she announced to no one in particular. She exited the room, leaving Harry to help Mrs. Weasley bring the pie dishes to the sink. When the work was finished, he grabbed his jacket and scarf off the coat rack and made his way outside as well. He found Ginny standing on the fence near the apple orchard, her arms wrapped tightly around her as the night breeze coursed over the field. "Are you alright?" he asked, taking off his jacket and placing it over her shoulders. "Thanks," Ginny said, shrugging her arms into the sleeves. "I'm fine," she continued looking out across the hills. "Just thinking about Fred's funeral." Harry smiled sadly at the memory. "I think Lee and Angelina did a good job that night," he said after a moment. "They did," Ginny agreed. "And you came to my room after and told me you wanted to be with me." "I did," Harry said, remembering the rawness of those first few days after the Battle of Hogwarts. "Why couldn't he tell us?" Ginny asked quietly. "Why didn't he want us there?" "I don't think he didn't want us there, Ginny," Harry replied. "I just think it would've been too hard for him to have the everyone there except Fred. It was probably easier having all of us absent than just that one, glaring absence." Ginny nodded, quiet for another moment. The wind whipped through her hair, bringing it up from her shoulders so that it was parallel to the rich earth of the Burrow's garden. "I've been thinking," she began, before stopping suddenly and taking a deep breath. "I've been thinking that once everything with the World Cup is over… regardless of how England competes... maybe we could start thinking about getting married." A lump formed in Harry's throat. Not turning his head, he glanced over to Ginny. A blush was beginning to creep up her neck, but she faced him with her characteristic blazing look. "Hang on a second," he said in a somewhat strangled voice. "Are you proposing to me?" Ginny cheeks flushed a deep crimson. "No, you muppet," she said. "I'm just saying that after the Cup's over… maybe you could propose to me." "So you're proposing that I propose to you?" Harry asked. Ginny giggled. "Yeah," she said. "Yeah, I suppose I am." "After the World Cup?" Harry asked, his voice still slightly more high than he preferred. "Yes," Ginny repeated slowly, looking as though she was actually rather concerned with his processing abilities. "I think, after the World Cup, I'd be ready to get engaged." "Oh," Harry said, feeling a bit as though he wanted to cry with joy. "Alright, then." Ginny gave a small smile. "Alright," she said with a nod. Harry strung his fingers through hers then, and she rested her head on his shoulder, and the two stood at the edge of the orchard for a long moment, admiring the night stars. Harry arrived to work Monday morning feeling invigorated. He and Padma were scheduled to give a lecture on Defensive Magic to a group of first-year trainees, and he couldn't be more excited to put on his old teaching hat, taking a moment to feel nostalgic for the D.A. He entered his cubicle and threw his rucksack under his desk, taking a deep breath before beginning to sort through the memos that had been deposited there over the weekend. A couple of newly of-age wizards had snuck off Hogwarts grounds on Saturday and had a one-on-one game of Quidditch somewhere over Sutherland, mystifying Muggles. Beyond that, it seemed like a largely uneventful few days. Harry paused, however, as he unearthed a thick and glossy piece of parchment from underneath all the memos. The great seal holding the parchment together was a family crest, embossed with the initials D.L.M. "D.L.M.," Harry read to the empty cubicle. "No way…." He ripped the parchment open. I was hoping you could join me today, at your earliest convenience, at the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade. I will be there all day. I have a matter of great importance I wish to discuss with you. Come alone. Draco Malfoy Harry set the note down on his desk, utterly dumbfounded. He hadn't heard from Malfoy since the Battle. During the first of the depositions in the Death Eater trials of the late-nineties, Harry had testified to Draco's refusal to identify him during the skirmish at Malfoy Manor, and Narcissa's lie to Voldemort that bought the fighters the time to kill the final Horcrux, Nagini. Both had been spared time in Azkaban because of Harry's statements, but he knew the Lucius had an upcoming trial, and he had no desire to make any such statement for the elder Malfoy. Still, he was eager to see what Malfoy could possibly want, and why he would request Harry come alone, so he quickly gathered his things and stood from his desk chair, exiting the cubicle just as Padma was entering. "And where do you think you're going?" she asked. "Don't forget we're giving that lecture today!" "I haven't forgotten!" Harry huffed as he darted past. "I need to go down to evidence." "Sure," Padma said sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "Don't make me do it alone, Harry!" But Harry was already halfway to the door of the office, and he hurried to the lifts, pacing around in agitation as his mind spun, trying to guess why he'd been summoned by Malfoy. He fingered his wand, tucked safely in the pocket of his robes. He nearly ran into the great stone fireplace closest to the lifts and clearly declared "the Three Broomsticks" as the green flames engulfed him. He managed to step out into the pub somewhat gracefully, and luckily ignored by most of the patrons of the quiet bar, nearly empty this early on a Monday. It was not difficult to locate Malfoy, though Harry was surprised to see not one, but two golden heads sitting side-by-side in a booth near the bar. The ravages of war and the loss of most of her station in life had not treated Narcissa Malfoy kindly. She and her son both had dark circles under their eyes, and both gave a great jump as Harry approached the table. "I had to come alone, but you've brought Mummy along?" Harry asked, sliding into the seat across from them. Draco merely rolled his eyes at Harry's jab, but his mother scowled. "Potter," Malfoy said. "I admit, I didn't expect you so early." "Your note piqued my curiosity, Malfoy," Harry said with a shrug. "Why don't we get right to it; what is it that you want?" Malfoy had the decency to blush, but only just. Narcissa leaned forward, a note of urgency to her voice. "My husband's trial date has been set for next summer," she said. "I'd heard," Harry replied drily. "It's been postponed several times, because he's been suffering from Spattergroit for nearly two years now," Narcissa continued. "I'd heard about that, too," Harry said. "Is that why you've brought me here?" Madame Rosmerta ambled over and set a tankard of butterbeer in front of Harry. "On the house," she said with a wink. Narcissa glanced at the landlady before looking back to Harry. "The Wizengamot is seeking a ten-year sentence," Narcissa said. "Lucius won't survive. He's weak, and the Dark Lords followers have not forgotten how I assisted you during the final battle." "So you want me to testify for him? I told the Wizengamot everything I witnessed during the war. They still saw fit to prosecute your husband." "We heard a rumour that you offered Thorfinn Rowle a more lenient sentence in exchange for information on the Lestranges," Narcissa said. Harry sat up straighter now. "Look," he said. "If you have any idea where Rodolphus or Rabastan are, you are legally obligated to report it to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement or you will be considered an accomplice and-" "Give it a rest, Potter, we don't know where they are," Draco interrupted. "Do you really think they'd've come knocking on our door after Mother lied to the Dark Lord about your death?" "Fine," Harry replied, crossing his arms across his chest. "Then what information does Lucius have that he thinks will save him? And why couldn't he come here himself to tell me?" "Spattergroit, Potter, remember? Merlin, you Gryffindors were always thick as bricks. Once it reaches your uvula you can't speak," Malfoy spat angrily. "Draco," Narcissa laid a hand on her son's arm. He seemed to calm slightly. Narcissa turned towards Harry. "My husband has been communicating largely in writing," Narcissa said. "When the news that the Tuft family had been murdered in Holyhead, he was very surprised. I myself didn't realize that the Tuft family were still in England. There were a few Ministers back in my day with the name, but I thought the family had died out years ago." Harry leaned forward, intent on understanding what Narcissa was trying to say. Narcissa took a deep breath before continuing. "When the news broke of the murder, my husband conveyed to me something that he had overheard during the war, that he believes may be pertinent information now. When Malfoy Manor was the headquarters of our side-" "Hang on, Mother," Draco interrupted. Narcissa looked upset for a moment, but allowed her son to continue. "Father doesn't want to reveal the information until there's a deal on the table," Draco said, looking to Harry. "Loyal until it suits him not to be?" Harry asked bitterly. "It's his only bargaining chip!" Malfoy said, clearly agitated. "Tell me what you know, and I swear to you I'll keep him out of Azkaban," Harry said. "If I can find the Lestranges on your information we may be able to throw away his entire trial." Narcissa's eyes grew wide. "I have your word?" she asked, her voice much higher than usual. Harry nodded. "My word." Narcissa glanced at her son uneasily before she started speaking. "Lucius overheard an argument between Bellatrix and Rodolphus a few weeks before the Snatchers brought you to our home in March of 1998. Bella was furious, for she had discovered that Rabastan was having an affair with a young girl in the Tuft family. The girl, Desdemona, was a werewolf, and because of our niece's recent marriage to the werewolf Lupin, Bella was concerned about falling from the Dark Lord's favor due to one-too-many half-breed connections in the family." Harry felt himself stiffen at Narcissa's description of Remus as 'the werewolf Lupin,' but he fixed his gaze ahead before speaking. "Desdemona was one of the witches identified in the murder last March," Harry confirmed in a monotone. "The Ministry has no record of her being a werewolf." "She was," Narcissa confirmed with an air of great conviction. "Bella demanded that Rodolphus force his brother to sever ties with the young witch. Specifically, Lucius heard my sister demand that Rabastan 'stop meeting his whore in that thatched barn before he brings about the ruin of us all.'" Harry blanched at Narcissa's harsh tone. "Thank you for providing such a vivid description," he said, before asking, "Thatched barn?" "Their meeting place," Narcissa said. "A barn somewhere near the Tuft home." Harry was quiet for a moment. "So the Tuft girl was Rabastan's lover?" he asked, more to himself than Draco and Narcissa. "Why would he kill her, then?" "He never spoke of her," Narcissa said. "I doubt it could've been too strong an attachment." "But why kill her after so long? You believe the Tufts were hiding the brothers? You do know where they are?" Harry asked sharply, attempting to uncover whatever information Narcissa was holding back. Narcissa had turned back to her son, but she threw a piercing look in Harry's direction. "No," she said firmly. "I think the brothers were using the Tufts as cover." Harry was quiet for a moment, taking this in. "You think Desdemona discovered him?" Harry said. "In their old hiding place? They'd been staying there so they could use magic under the cover of the family, and Rabastan knew it was a good hiding place because Voldemort had never tracked him and his unworthy lover there?" Narcissa and Draco had both flinched visibly at Harry's use of Voldemort's name, but neither countered his deductions. "But why? Do you know their endgame?" Harry pressed. Narcissa looked uneasily at Draco, whose lips were set in annoyance. She took a deep breath. "The Rowle family was always very good at ensuring that the women of the family were never connected to anything incriminating in the slightest. Your department," Narcissa said with an air of disregard, "may want to look in on Euphemia Rowle." "Euphemia?" Harry asked. "Why?" "She's not as innocent as she seems," Narcissa said mildly. "And neither was Dagmar. She knew full-well that her Gringotts account was a fund for the Dark Lord's scheme in case the Ministry was ever able, as they have now, to freeze our own accounts." "Hang on," Harry said. "The Lestranges have Dagmar's money?" Draco scoffed. "You Aurors must have your heads so far up your own arses you could lick the back of your own eyeballs." Harry narrowed his eyes at Malfoy, trying to pretend that he wasn't starting to agree. "You have to understand," Narcissa said, disregarding her son's comment. "That we weren't allowed to entertain even the slightest possibility of failure. After you were dead, the plan was to extend the Dark Lord's reach to Europe, and then beyond, with the help of paid mercenaries. That was what the money was for. And I don't doubt that my brother-in-law is giving his best effort to continue the plan." "To what end?" Harry said. "Voldemort's dead. What can they possibly hope to achieve?" "They can wreak havoc and cause chaos," Narcissa said simply. "Their goal would like be to have a less-progressive government installed in the Ministry, or to feed funds to pure-blood regimes in Eastern Europe. Anything Rodolphus and Rabastan can do to undermine those who brought them down, they will." Narcissa was quiet for a moment, before looking up and taking a deep breath. "Everything they lived for is gone. That makes them more dangerous than you or I could possibly imagine." Harry reentered his cubicle after returning from Hogsmeade, still finding it hard to believe that Narcissa was as afraid of the Lestranges as he was. He looked down at his rucksack, where he'd made notes of all of her claims, working to connect the dots between what she had revealed and what they knew. Harry knew he should likely hand the information over to Williamson immediately, but he was afraid to waste good intelligence on another bungled mission. Harry agreed with Narcissa, that if the Lestranges believed their hiding spot good enough to avoid detection during not one, but two investigations into Barrowden, they would likely remain there, though certainly surrounded by protective enchantments. There had to be a weakness though - there always was. Harry threw himself down into his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose and wracking his brain as to how they'd gain entry into this barn that Narcissa had mentioned. Harry agreed - Desdemona Tuft must've sealed her own fate by stumbling upon her old lover. Padma trudged into the office. "Oh!" she cried. "Look who it is! Thanks for making it to the training today!" "Padma, listen, you're not going to believe the morning I've had," Harry said, turning towards her. "Is Ernie around? He'll likely want to hear this." Padma obliged and grabbed Ernie from his own cubicle, dragging him over to theirs. He recounted the information Narcissa shared; the secret account of Dagmar Rowle, the overheard argument between Bellatrix and Rodolphus, and Narcissa's suspicions about the brother's hiding place. "But Harry, don't you think we would've discovered them if they were still in Barrowden?" Padma asked as Harry finished speaking. "It seems too easy." Harry nodded. "I know, I've been thinking the same thing. But, think about it, they've really insulated themselves well. Rowle was clearly there protecting them when he triggered the Taboo, and the Tuft family accounted for any magic in the area. They certainly venture out when they want to make a scene, like the attack at Honeydukes, but I think they would've been much easier to find if they didn't have someone doing their dirty work for them." "But who?" Ernie asked in a hushed whisper. "Rowle's been behind bars for over a year." Harry thought for a moment, reflecting on the last three years, all of his terrible encounters with Rowle, his sneering smile in the Atrium of the Ministry, in the house in Barrowden - "Merlin!" Harry said, smacking himself in the forehead. "Merlin, I've been so bloody stupid!" "What?" Padma asked. "The Snatchers," Harry cried. "I thought they were working for Rowle, but they weren't. Rowle and the Snatchers were all working for the Lestranges. The house was a lookout for the Lestranges who were hiding in the village, relying on the Tuft family and their clean record to cover up any magic they were doing!" "Rowle, a Death Eater, ranking as high as some Snatchers trying to avoid Azkaban?" Padma asked dubiously. "I thought he was in the inner circle." Harry shook his head. "Have either of you seen him in battle? He's a loose canon! He killed those Muggles in Barrowden and drew attention to the whole operation, and that's why the Lestranges sent him away after they got ahold of Dagmar's money. They probably told him he was meant to recruit Scandinavian mercenaries for this scheme of theirs." "Well, that's all well and good," Ernie said. "But how are we going to get ahold of the Snatchers protecting the Lestranges. They Disapparated before we could identify them." Padma thought for a moment, and Harry watched as her eyes lit up in excitement. "Wait!" she cried. "Ernie, that's not true! We disarmed two of them! The wands are still in evidence!" "Did anyone ask Ollivander to identify them?" Harry asked. "I'm sure," Padma said confidently. "They usually put a tag on the wand in the locker. But Harry, whoever they are, they've been without wands for over two years. How could they possibly be doing anything for the Lestranges without wands?" "Maybe they got new wands," Ernie reasoned. Harry was quiet for a moment. "I want to go to the evidence locker," he said finally. "And then I want to visit Ollivander." He looked up into the eager faces of his friends, and realized with a pang that he had been expecting to see Ron and Hermione in front of him, not Ernie and Padma. He shook his head for a moment and cleared his thoughts before grabbing his wand and standing from his desk. The bell to Ollivander's shop chimed happily as Harry, Ernie, and Padma walked in. Harry took in the sight of the boxes of wands piled all the way to the ceiling. "Merlin," Ernie said. "You know, I don't think I've been in here since I was buying my wand." "Me either," Harry said in a hushed, reverent whisper. He clutched his holly-and-phoenix wand in the pocket of his robe, taking a moment to contemplate the moment the he first held the thin piece of wood. Alerted by perhaps the bell or perhaps the sound of their voices, Ollivander himself appeared from behind the counter, a great cloud of dust following him. "Harry Potter," he exclaimed in wizened excitement, before taking in the presence of Ernie and Padma. His face fell. "On Ministry business, I presume?" "Er- yeah," Harry said, feeling suddenly embarrassed. "Mr. Ollivander, we're here because you helped the Ministry identify two wands belonging to Snatchers who are evading capture for crimes against humanity they committed during the war." Ollivander's brow furrowed for a moment, before it raised again in recognition. "Yes," he said. "Yes, I recall now. Savage from your office brought the wands in, July of 1999. One, pear wood with a unicorn hair, medium-flexibility, belonging to Giles Duncan. The other was birch with mermaid hair, exceptionally swishy, sold to Tarquin Stuart." "And you remember these men?" Padma asked. "Did they ever come back into your shop after purchasing their wands?" "No," Ollivander said. "I have not seen them since they were boys." Harry pulled out a quill to make a note in his notebook, just as Ollivander began to speak again. "Though," the old wizard continued, "what was perhaps most curious, was that two wands of very similar descriptions were stolen from my shop, not two months after the visit I received from Mr. Savage." Harry looked up from his notebook. "What?" he asked. "Yes," Ollivander said. "He came in the dead of night, but after my time in Malfoy Manor I have always taken additional precautions, and had a Caterwauling Charm in place. The thief tripped the alarm, but by the time I arrived downstairs, he was already gone and down the Alley. I saw him weeks later at the Leaky Cauldron and confronted him, but he denied the entire event." "You knew who robbed you?" Harry asked. "But you didn't report it?" "Wherever Mundungus Fletcher travels, a certain stench is never far behind," Ollivander said with an air of great disdain. "Dung's been a thief for many years longer than you've been alive, my dear boy, and he has yet to face any justice for his crimes. Beyond that, I'm sure you can understand that I have a certain distrust for the Ministry, which I hope you won't take personally, Mr. Potter." Harry smiled kindly. "Not at all," he said. "We appreciate your help this afternoon, at any rate." "Anything, my dear boy, anything at all," Ollivander said. "Let me show you to the door." The bell of the shop door echoed behind the trio as Harry turned back to Ernie and Padma. "We need to find Mundungus Fletcher," he told them. |
| Reviews 128 |
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