Chapter 53: Dancing on the Edge
Starfox5
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Chapter 53: Dancing on the Edge
London, Ministry of Magic, December 16th, 1998
The bloody thieves had escaped again! And that damned Black was hindering the investigation! John Dawlish wanted to curse out loud as he walked from the Atrium of the Ministry towards the lift, but that would set a bad example for his young partner. He entered the lift and sighed as soon as the doors closed.
"It wasn't your fault that the thieves escaped," Bathilda said.
He snorted. "I know that. And Bones knows that. And even Fudge knows it. But that doesn't matter. The thieves escaped from a force I commanded. And that makes it my fault."
"But there was nothing else you could have done!" the young Auror exclaimed, shaking her head.
John smiled against his will - she was so earnest, almost naive. "I could have gathered more Aurors to chase them instead of letting Potter and Weasley handle it, and I could have had more of the area covered in Anti-Apparition Jinxes."
"But… more Aurors would have hindered each other because they would have been disillusioned while chasing after the same target. They might even have cursed each other by mistake since they would have been unable to tell friend from foe." Bathilda shook her head. "None of us were trained to fight in a big group. And we needed the Disillusionment Charms so the muggles wouldn't notice us."
"You've been talking a lot with Potter and Weasley, haven't you?"
She blushed but was saved from answering by the doors opening to Auror headquarters. "We started at the same time, and most of us take our breaks together," she replied as they left the lift and headed to their office.
A glance confirmed that she looked as worried as she sounded. He chuckled. "It's nothing to be ashamed of. For all their arrogance, Weasley and Potter were trained by Moody - they know how to fight." If only Moody hadn't taught them his attitude as well. Bloody loose cannons.
Bathilda nodded, smiling shyly. "And the female thief escaped Harry even though he prevented her from apparating!" she added as they entered their office.
John grunted. "She lured him there. There's no way Potter could have managed to keep her from apparating. Not at the speed they were going." Anti-Apparition Jinxes didn't cover that much space. No, the thieves had planned that.
"But… what for? Johnson and Brown haven't found any traps."
John grinned. "I don't know - yet. But this was a set-up. Trust me, I can feel it in my gut."
She nodded, but she didn't look convinced. He didn't mind - she'd come round once he gathered more evidence. Provided, of course, that he wasn't removed from the investigation by Bones. He sighed again. "I'll go and inform Bones and Scrimgeour. Get started on the report."
"Alright!" She smiled at him, doing her best to cheer him up as he nodded at her and left their office.
Sometimes he felt as if he didn't deserve a partner like her.
"...and based on the speed of the thieves' brooms, we can safely assume that they were using Firebolts. Auror Potter, who had the longest contact with the thieves, agreed with that conclusion. I've given orders to check the recorded sales with Spudmore." John doubted that the thieves had made legal purchases, but you never knew.
"I see." Scrimgeour nodded. "And you remain convinced that Potter's pursuit of one of the thieves was a set-up by them?"
John nodded. "The other thief managed to clear the area covered by Anti-Apparition Jinxes in less than a minute, and those were cast by half a dozen Aurors. The thief Potter was chasing would have been able to outrun his jinxes in the same time frame."
"But according to the Aurors at the scene there were no signs of a trap," Scrimgeour said.
"That doesn't mean anything. These thieves have demonstrated exceptional skill in Curse-Breaking and stealth," John said. He knew this was a set-up. "We only saw two of them. I wanted to search the house for the third thief, but Black refused to give us permission. Aurors Potter and Weasley are searching the house." Probably.
"That's not unexpected. By all accounts, the intruders were detected before they could break through the wards." Bones spoke up for the first time since John had started his report. "A similar situation to the attempted break-in at Longbottom Manor."
John shook his head. "The thieves robbed two Old Families. At Davis Manor, they were prepared for us and escaped easily. And they would almost certainly have been aware that Bellatrix Lestrange was discovered when she approached Black's house, so they must have been prepared for that as well. The missing third thief is the key to this; I'm certain."
"Well, if anyone is in their house, Aurors Potter and Weasley will find them," Scrimgeour said.
John refrained from scoffing. Potter and Weasley were good, but they were not perfect. And they were too arrogant to catch these thieves. "We should search the house with a larger force. Two Aurors are more easily fooled than a dozen."
"If Black refuses to let them search his house there's nothing we can do," Bones said.
"And it's not just Potter and Weasley - Black and his wife, as well as Potter's girlfriend, will support them, won't they?" Scrimgeour added.
This time, John scoffed. Civilians. Black might be a master of dark curses, but that didn't make him an Auror. And his wife was French - cut from the same mould. And Granger was a thief herself.
He blinked. He hadn't seen either Black's wife or Granger there.
Bones's question interrupted his train of thought. "Is that all?"
"Yes, Ma'am," he replied. "The investigation is just starting - we're still collecting all the reports and going through the evidence we secured."
"Good. I'll inform the Minister. With Potter, Weasley and Black involved so closely, I don't think there'll be consequences for this failure."
John nodded, but he wasn't as optimistic as Bones. Black hated the Ministry and especially the DMLE, and Granger shared those sentiments.
He shook his head as he walked back to his own office. Neither Granger nor Black's wife had been at home. Black had claimed they were in France, but… Black couldn't be trusted. He might have been innocent of the crime of which he had been accused, but John knew the man had done a lot of shady things in the conflicts with the Dark Lord. And he had taken Granger under his wing - a convicted thief - and paid her debts. She claimed to have been framed, but John knew better. No one who was innocent acted like that witch. She had been working for Dumbledore in that whole affair as well.
What if… He stopped for a moment, holding his breath.
What if this whole attempted robbery had been planned by the Blacks, Granger, Potter and Weasley to fool everyone else? What if they were the thieves? Merlin's balls, it all made sense! It explained how the thieves could fool the entire Auror Corps while robbing Old Families' manors! It was a conspiracy!
He turned around, starting to walk back to Bones's office, then stopped. No. He couldn't tell Bones or Scrimgeour, either. They wouldn't believe him. Not without proof. To accuse a member of the Wizengamot of robbing Old Families - and one of the richest wizards in Britain as well… He'd be ruined. Or worse.
No, he had to investigate this himself. Find evidence. Expose the whole plot and bring them to justice. Bathilda could… No, he couldn't even tell her. She was too close to Potter. And she was too naive - Potter would realise that she knew even if she didn't say anything. And Moody, who might believe him, was still in a coma in St Mungo's. Unless Moody was part of this as well - he had worked for Dumbledore, hadn't he?
John closed his eyes and cursed under his breath. He would have to do this alone.
London, No 12 Grimmauld Place, December 16th, 1998
"Yes, I'm alright," Harry Potter repeated, smiling at Hermione's face in the enchanted mirror.
She frowned, though. "Are you really?"
"Really. I wasn't hurt." He shook his head.
"You have a tendency to downplay your injuries."
"You can ask Ron if you don't trust me." He laughed at the scowl that caused.
"I'm just worried. You ran off in the middle of our talk, and I didn't hear anything until you called me." She was still looking upset - or annoyed - more than reassured, as far as he could tell.
"No one got hurt. Not even the thieves," he told her.
"Did you catch them?"
He grimaced. "They escaped."
"Again?"
Harry gritted his teeth. "Yes, they did. They had a head start, though."
She looked a little doubtful. "Who discovered them?"
He wanted to roll his eyes. "Sirius noticed that Crookshanks was hissing at the air above the house."
"Oh! Crookshanks spotted another intruder?"
"Yes," Harry admitted.
"First he discovers Lestrange, and now the thieves! He's such a great cat! Isn't he, Harry?" She was beaming at him.
"Yes, he is a great cat," Harry admitted. And an even greater pain.
"Is he with you?" she asked with a wide smile.
He blinked and glanced around. The orange furball was lying on the windowsill. "Yes, he is," he replied, suppressing a sigh.
"Oh, can you hold the mirror so he can see me?"
Harry Potter clenched and bared his teeth as soon as he turned the enchanted mirror towards the fat cat. Crookshanks ignored him, of course. He also didn't spare Hermione more than a bored-looking glance, but she didn't seem to care.
When he heard Hermione coo at her pet, he closed his eyes. "There you are! You're such a great cat! And such a vigilant guard! Harry will reward you for this with a special meal!"
"I will?" Harry replied before he could stop himself. He flipped the mirror back to face him and winced at Hermione's expression.
She huffed. "Yes, you will! It's the least that he deserves!"
"But aren't you returning in time for dinner anyway?"
She nodded. "Yes. But you rewarding him will improve your relationship. He senses that you don't like him, and this will help remedy it," she added with a sniff.
"I'm feeding him every second morning," Harry retorted, "and it hasn't helped his attitude."
"As hungry as he is when I get up, you probably don't feed him enough."
There was no use fighting this. Not when she was in this sort of mood. "I'll get him some treats," Harry said.
"Good." She nodded, then bit her lower lip. "Are you going to be in trouble because the thieves escaped again?" she asked in a lower, softer voice.
"I don't think so," he said, trying to sound confident. He had done his best, after all - no one else had come as close to catching the thieves.
She scoffed. "Sirius can settle matters if they try to blame you."
"I don't think that'll be needed," he said. He hoped it wouldn't.
She wet her lips with her tongue. "So…"
"So…"
"I'll wrap up things here with Jeanne, and we'll be on our way home."
"I'll have to head to the Ministry," he said.
"We'll meet at dinner, then?"
"Yes."
Both of them were smiling at each other as the enchanted mirror faded.
London, Ministry of Magic, December 16th, 1998
"...and once we finished the search of the building without finding any sign of intrusion, we returned to the Ministry," Harry Potter finished his verbal report.
Dawlish narrowed his eyes at him. "No sign of any intrusion? The wards of the vault were not disturbed?"
"We found no sign of any intrusion," Harry replied. He wasn't about to reveal any details about his home - that was none of the Ministry's business.
Dawlish pressed his lips together. "I see. And the thief you were pursuing managed to escape using Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder - the same powder they used in the Davis robbery."
"Yes." Harry clenched his teeth. "I sent conjured animals into the affected area to trigger any traps, but by the time I entered it myself, the thief had already escaped. Probably through the sewers."
"Probably?"
"I was watching the escape routes before I entered, but she might have escaped while I was inside."
"She?" Dawlish leaned forward. "I thought the thief was disillusioned during the entire chase."
"I recognised her voice when she ordered the thieves to split up when we rushed at them," Harry replied. "She was the thief I encountered at the Davis robbery."
"The one who escaped you." Dawlish stared at him.
"Yes," Harry spat out.
The other Auror leaned back.
"It doesn't sound like you could have stopped her," Bathilda said, looking up from the parchment she had used to take notes.
"Indeed." Dawlish nodded. "Unless you had a Hand of Glory."
"Those aren't easy to come by," Harry said. Rather dark, too. And disgusting - who would want to carry a mummified human hand round with them?
"A number of Old Families might have acquired one in the past," Dawlish said.
"The Blacks didn't," Harry replied, narrowing his eyes at the implication.
"Was anyone else present in the house during your search?" Dawlish asked, looking up from his notes.
"Apart from Kreacher, our house-elf, no. Both Hermione and Jeanne - Miss Granger and Madam Black - were in France, in our new holiday home," Harry said.
"Your girlfriend, or so I heard."
Harry gritted his teeth at the tone. "The details of our relationship are private."
"I see."
No, he didn't. Harry glared at him. "Do you have any other questions?"
"Not at the moment. Thank you." Dawlish nodded. "I'll get back to you if there's anything else."
Harry nodded sharply and left the office. At least the git hadn't brought up Hermione's conviction this time.
London, No 12 Grimmauld Place, December 16th, 1998
Hermione Granger wasn't waiting in the entrance hall for Harry to return from the Ministry. He was fine, after all, and if she closed her eyes, she could still smell the horrible stench of that sadistic concoction he had used against her. Instead, she was sitting in her room, reading the latest of Malfoy's proposals for the next session in the Wizengamot - this time about the 'obvious need to implement stricter standards for promotions in response to the lowered hiring standards'. It was an obvious ploy to favour purebloods for promotion - well, obvious if one knew what all the 'familiar with Wizarding Britain's society', 'well-versed in etiquette' and 'undivided loyalties' selection criteria meant to a member of an Old Family.
She scoffed, then frowned. Part of the reason she was in her room and not in the study was that each time she breathed loudly, snorted or otherwise drew attention to her nose, the stupid dog snickered. As if her ordeal had been funny!
She huffed and put the parchment down. Sirius wouldn't have trouble blocking that proposal - it was a little too blatant. He would just have to point out that even with new employees, one should focus on their performance, especially in these 'trying times'. She grinned - even the Old Families were aware that nepotism could be their ruin now. But despite that, Sirius would have to spend time and gold dealing with this drivel - which is what Malfoy probably wanted all along. Well, thanks to Bulstrode and Davis, gold wasn't a problem.
She frowned. Between the crisis with Gringotts and the loss of the fortune of two Old Families, with a number of businesses' assets tied up in court due to Davis, the economy should start being affected. On the other hand, most of the gold had been sitting around gathering dust. She should look into this - although she wasn't certain if the Ministry was actually tracking any relevant statistics, apart from tax revenue. Not that she had any experience with economics either - although that, at least, was something she could easily remedy by studying the appropriate textbooks. Once she had the time.
Sighing, she closed her eyes, rubbed her nose and tried to focus on her work again. If she prepared a list of arguments to counter the proposal, Sirius would have an easier - and probably cheaper - time dealing with the wavering idiots in the Wizengamot. Now… She licked her lips and started making notes. Mentioning that dangerous criminals wouldn't be caught by Aurors more concerned with etiquette than duelling was an obvious opening line. Pointing out that adding vague criteria made it easier to sabotage careers to spite a rival was a logical argument, but wouldn't sway people who considered that the proper way of doing politics. Which was the majority of the Wizengamot. But leaving it out would be dishonest and make Sirius look stupid or callous. And that might backfire once the Wizengamot was reformed.
A knock on the door interrupted her. "Yes?" she called out.
"Hermione?"
Harry! She jumped up and quickly cast a cleaning charm on her house robes. "Come in!"
She hugged him before the door was fully open and was kissing him before it closed again. His arms around her, his warm body pressing against hers… she felt good.
Then she remembered the chase, the stench and her lies, and tensed.
"Is something wrong?" he asked as they separated.
"No," she lied. Nodding at her desk, she added: "Just the latest attempt by Malfoy to add more discrimination and nepotism to the Ministry."
To her surprise, Harry flinched slightly at hearing that. She cocked her head sideways. "Is something wrong?"
He shook his head. "No. Just Dawlish trying to find someone to blame for today's failure."
That git! She scowled. "He's trying to blame you?" Of course, the idiot would!
Harry shrugged. "He agreed with Bathilda that I couldn't have stopped the thief, but he still wanted to find any mistakes I might have made."
"Well, did you make any mistakes?" Hermione asked. He had almost caught her, after all - if he had gotten a little luckier with just one Stunner...
He sighed and sat down on her bed. "Apart from missing with my curses?"
She joined him, putting one hand on his shoulder. "Yes." It wasn't selfish - he wasn't hunting them, after all, but Crouch.
She felt him shrug, very slowly, under her hand. "I haven't been able to analyse it in detail with Ron. I'll have to do that once Ron has finished telling Luna everything she can't use in an article. But… anything I could have done would have endangered the Statute of Secrecy. Maybe if I had conjured birds to block her…"
She pressed her lips together. Birds? Crashing into her? That might have worked. She loathed the stupid animals even more for that. "Wouldn't that have had a high chance of seriously hurting the thief?"
"If I had hit her with a Stunner at the speed she was flying, she wouldn't have fared any better, I think."
And yet, he had cast at her. She frowned - she couldn't help herself - and tried to cover it up. "Wouldn't that have endangered the Statute of Secrecy as well?"
"She was disillusioned. I could have covered up a crash with a fallen street light or something." He grinned. "Besides, the Obliviators are good at handling such things. I'll get her next time."
That wasn't what she wanted to hear. "I thought you were investigating Crouch."
"Well, I don't think Dawlish will catch the thieves, and once Ron and I have caught Crouch, we'll probably replace Dawlish."
That wasn't something she wanted to hear either. Fortunately, Jeanne called them to dinner before Hermione had to think of something else to say.
London, No 12 Grimmauld Place, December 17th, 1998
"What happened? I managed to escape as planned, but you let Potter chase you through half of London before losing him."
Hermione Granger frowned at her tutor's implied accusation. "I didn't let him chase me - I couldn't apparate. They had covered the whole area in Anti-Apparition Jinxes. I tried multiple times, without success."
"That's not possible," Mr Fletcher retorted. "I had no trouble apparating as soon as I had left the vicinity. To single you out, they would have had to predict your route perfectly - and then they would have done the same to me."
"I know that!" If she were in her other form, her fur would have bristled. "But it's what happened - I was blocked from apparating. And since there was no one else around, and they didn't block you, it had to have been Harry who was doing it."
Mr Fletcher scoffed, but didn't contradict her. "Potter would have had to be on Dumbledore's level to keep casting so many Jinxes while chasing you - and casting Stunners at you at the same time."
"Well, he was personally trained by Dumbledore," Sirius cut in. "Who knows what tricks he learned? He didn't destroy Voldemort with spells you learn for your N.E.W.T.s, did he?"
Hermione had a well-founded suspicion about what Harry had used to destroy Voldemort. Blood magic. But that wasn't something she'd discuss with anyone. However, Sirius had a good point. "I underestimated Harry. That won't happen again."
"It better not," Mr Fletcher grumbled. "He almost caught you twice - and third time's the charm. You better find out what he can do."
Hermione pressed her lips together. She had escaped from Harry twice already, and she would continue doing so! But she wouldn't cheat and spy on him. At least not as Hermione - she already felt guilty enough keeping her secret from him.
And besting him in a fair competition felt too good to spoil it!
London, No 12 Grimmauld Place, December 25th, 1998
"Merry Christmas!"
"Merry Christmas!"
"Merry Christmas!"
"Joyeux Noël!"
"Open the presents!"
Hermione Granger rolled her eyes at Sirius's outburst, but smiled anyway. He didn't even make a token effort to rein in his exuberance. Just like a dog, really. She giggled at that, earning her a smile from Harry and a brief suspicious glance from Sirius before he continued summoning the presents.
She caught Harry looking at Remus.
"I've checked them. They're safe." The man nodded.
"I would never mar such a joyous occasion with cheap pranks!" Sirius lied as he started to hand out the gifts.
Hermione smirked when saw the dog's expression upon realising that the presents were actually safe - she had checked them herself. And dealt with Sirius's pranks - both the obvious decoys meant to fool Remus as well as the actual prank spells. Really, as if she'd let him turn Harry into a dog!
He should be glad that she had refrained from pranking him in retaliation. She smiled sweetly in response to him frowning at her, then opened the gift from her parents first. As soon as she pulled the wrapping paper away, she had to stifle a gasp. Enid Blyton's collected works!
"As expected - more books!" Sirius commented, ignoring the elbow Jeanne poked into his side.
"Of course!" Hermione replied, blinking a few times.
"Enid Blyton?" Harry craned his neck. "Aren't those books a little…" He trailed off, but she knew what he meant.
She smiled. "I had all of her series as a child. My grandparents bought me one series each summer. And now I have them again." With these, her book collection, lost with her home after Malfoy framed her, was completely restored.
"Ah." Harry wrapped his arm around her waist and briefly pulled her against him. He understood. "Don't worry - we'll get Crouch, and your parents will be able to return."
She nodded, feeling a slight pang of guilt at having sent them away in the first place - and at not feeling too guilty about that. If Crouch weren't still a threat, she would be celebrating Christmas with her parents. But she would want to be with Harry. She sighed as she carefully set the box with the books down next to her feet and started on unwrapping her other gifts.
Remus's gift was a rare book on Arithmancy - copied, as he explained, from Hogwarts' restricted session. She thanked him profusely and didn't mention that she had made her own copy a few years ago, thanks to Dumbledore granting her access to the library over the summer.
Jeanne's was a matching set of robes, shoes and underwear made by Francois Baletiers, one of Paris's grand couturiers. Very expensive and, as Hermione discovered when she pulled the garments out of their enchanted box, very sexy. She didn't have to fake her blush.
Harry's was a pair of books. A glossy, signed copy of 'Seven Championships' by Filius Flitwick. And a small, thin booklet, 'A quick guide to combat for Storm Wizards' by Hans Balzer.
"Moody translated it himself and made annotations," Harry explained when she looked at him and raised her eyebrows. "He wanted to give it to every new Auror, but the Ministry opposed it - apparently, no matter how insightful they were, texts written by Grindelwald's best combat instructor were deemed unsuitable for British wizards and witches."
Ah. That Balzer. The name had sounded somewhat familiar. "Duelling and combat," she said, "is there something you want to tell me?"
Harry cleared his throat. "Well… I thought you'd like some useful and interesting new books?"
She snorted. Harry wasn't subtle. But he meant well. And he cared so much… She leaned over and kissed him before opening Sirius's gift.
She blinked. And stared. "A Firebolt?" she asked, looking at the dog. She already had one!
He grinned at her, though she saw that it was slightly forced. "Now you and Harry have matching brooms. The fastest on the market!"
She caught him glancing at Harry, who was looking slightly embarrassed, and understood. "You told him to buy one for me?"
"You need the best broom available," Harry replied. "And I merely made a suggestion when he asked me what you'd like."
She forced herself to smile. Harry meant well. And he obviously thought she'd need the broom in case she had to flee from Crouch.
But he would want to fly with her, and she would have to put on an act on the broom or risk him recognising her flying style.
And, of course, Harry would want to put the information contained in his gifts into practice. Which meant more sandbagging.
Not that Harry knew any of that - he just wanted the best for her. She couldn't fault him for that. Sighing, she leaned into his side and watched him unwrap her own gift - a complete collection of Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes stories.
And giggled when he frowned at her and asked: "Are you trying to tell me something?"
Devon, Ottery St Catchpole, December 26th, 1998
"Here, Hermione! Our gift for you!" Luna beamed at Hermione as she handed over a gift wrapped in paper which glowed in all the colours of the rainbow. Harry Potter didn't have to use his glasses to know it was a book. By now everyone knew that the witch preferred books to almost any other gift. He was certain that an old, rare book would have impressed her more than the Firebolt Sirius had given her yesterday.
But a Firebolt could carry her to safety whereas an old book wouldn't save her if Crouch attacked her. Not even an old book on duelling or fighting - Hermione wasn't hopeless any more, but she wouldn't be able to defeat the likes of Crouch any time soon. Which was the reason Harry had urged Sirius to buy her a Firebolt. A lecture on how spending 'exorbitant amounts of gold on gifts defeats the spirit of Christmas' was a small price to pay for Hermione's safety.
"The latest edition of 'Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them'? Thank you!" Hermione's smile matched Luna's, Harry noted.
The blonde nodded happily. "It's even better than the latest edition - I've added corrections and annotations! You've got a unique edition!"
Hermione blinked, then checked the book and froze for a second.
Harry craned his neck - indeed, almost every page had had notes added to it in Luna's handwriting.
"Thank you, Luna. I'll treasure it!" Hermione said.
Harry saw that Hermione's smile was a little forced, but Luna didn't seem to have noticed - she was still beaming at her. He was happy - the witch meant well and had obviously spent a lot of time and effort on her gift.
Ron nodded. "The original was great, but recent editions have failed to add the latest research and observations. Scamander has grown a little complacent."
Luna pouted. "They just don't want to acknowledge The Quibbler! Even though Daddy was the first since Newton Scamander to observe Three-leafed Pygmy Dryads in their natural habitat!"
Hermione frowned. "Really?" she asked as she flicked through the pages until she reached the creature's entry.
"Yes! Newton only observed the main variant, but didn't describe the yellow-leafed variant!" Luna nodded several times. "I wanted to glue a picture we've taken on to the page, but Ron said that would be too much."
"You've got pictures?" Hermione leaned forward.
Luna nodded once more and pulled out a thick envelope from her pocket. "Pictures of all the animals we observed!" She handed a stack over.
Hermione held up a picture. "This is you and Ron camping."
"Oh, yes." Luna nodded. "But there's a Hiding Humper behind the tent - if you wait long enough you can spot his shadow when he moves!"
"We totally missed it," Ron added, putting his arms around Luna, who leaned into him in response, "until we went over the pictures afterwards."
There was a moving shadow, Harry Potter thought, though it could have been a leaf or one of the tent's flaps twisting in the wind. He handed the picture back after another glance at Ron and Luna holding each other in front of the tent.
A year ago, he'd have been jealous of their obvious happiness. And ashamed of being jealous. But now he was with Hermione. His girlfriend, even though they weren't using that term.
But they cared for each other, and that was all that mattered at the end of the day.
Kent, Greengrass Manor, Britain, December 27th, 1998
Harry Potter couldn't help feeling a little jealous as he watched Ron and Luna dance in the middle of the ballroom in Greengrass Manor. His two friends looked happy together - happier, in his biased opinion, than most of the other couples surrounding them. If Hermione were here… He sighed. She wouldn't be happy here, surrounded by the the very people who had tried to destroy her life. He knew it, he understood it, but, seeing his friends dancing together, he still wished she were here.
He took a sip from his glass. Pumpkin juice wasn't the most posh choice of drink at a ball, but he wouldn't drink alcohol while technically on duty, and the only other non-alcoholic option would have been Butterbeer - and that wouldn't be posh enough for the occasion. And while Harry didn't care about the host family and their friends, he didn't want to damage Sirius's standing among the less bigoted members of the Wizengamot by playing the uncouth, muggle-raised half-blood. Of course, according to Hermione, Butterbeer wasn't completely non-alcoholic anyway.
That he had arrived without a date was as far as he could go - Sirius's friends and allies would understand that Harry wouldn't risk rumours of him dating someone else, and Greengrass's cronies would have to swallow the pointed hint at the fact that Harry was only present because he had been ordered to be by Scrimgeour.
Which was true. Otherwise, he'd be in France with Hermione, Sirius and Jeanne. Probably visiting Jeanne's family. A much more appealing prospect than standing guard over the Yule Ball in Greengrass Manor. If you could call it standing guard when he wasn't even out patrolling the wardline or checking the hallways. On the other hand, Dawlish was out there.
He let his gaze wander over the crowd filling the ballroom. He didn't know many of the guests. Not personally, at least - he knew the names and faces of the various Wizengamot members, of course. But not many of their younger relatives - few of the guests had been at Hogwarts with him.
But there was Bathilda, standing at the corner of the buffet, head almost swivelling round as she kept looking at every entrance. If she tried any harder to look like a guard she'd have to keep her wand drawn. He grinned and walked over, grabbing a canape on the way. "You know, you're not exactly blending in," he said after casting a privacy charm.
"Our duty is to guard the ball," she replied, briefly glancing at him.
"Without making it obvious," he said. "At least that was what Scrimgeour told me twice in person."
Bathilda sighed and turned her attention to him. "You know why he said that."
Of course, Harry knew that. "Would I make a scene?" he asked, grinning.
That earned him a frown. "You would - if you could blame someone else."
"Touché," he admitted. "Speaking of someone to blame - where's your date?"
"Theo's dancing," she replied, nodding towards the dance floor.
Harry saw Nott with Greengrass and frowned. "He's left you standing here, hasn't he?"
"I can hardly expect him to sacrifice his evening just to keep up appearances." She was frowning again. "It was nice enough of him to volunteer as my date."
Harry doubted that Nott would have found a better date anyway. "Still, that's both unprofessional and impolite."
"We have danced together. And I expect that we will dance together once more before the evening ends," she retorted.
Harry scoffed. "After he's danced with every daughter or granddaughter of an Old Family, I suppose."
"He isn't like that," Bathilda shot back. "And wouldn't you dance with your friends?"
Harry glanced at her. "I wasn't aware I had friends here. With a few exceptions." Among which Draco Malfoy, whom Harry could spot dancing with Parkinson on the other side of the room, definitely didn't number. Fortunately, Malfoy had avoided him so far - just like in their last years at Hogwarts.
"Oh, you!" Bathilda scoffed. "Everyone knows the Greengrasses aren't your favourite people, but they're one of the Old Families, and at least half the guests are friends of your godfather!"
Acquaintances would be a more correct description, Harry thought. Or allies of convenience. If they knew what Sirius and Hermione were planning… He snorted, then schooled his features and ended the privacy charm as he spotted one actual friend headed towards him.
"Hello, Neville," he greeted him. "Lavender."
"Harry! I've been looking for you for a while," the wizard smiled broadly, then looked at Bathilda.
"Neville, Lavender - this is Bathilda Meringworth. We're colleagues. Bathilda - Neville Longbottom and Lavender Brown. We were in Gryffindor together."
"Hello!" Lavender beamed at the witch. "So, you're covering for Nott, Harry?"
"Pardon?" Bathilda frowned.
Neville grimaced. "Sorry. Lavender noticed that you arrived with Nott, but haven't spent much time together."
"Not enough to be a romantic couple," Lavender cut in. "And if you were here as friends, you'd be chatting together with others more often. And you've been looking around with a more serious expression than Harry."
"Sorry," Neville repeated himself. "She's convinced that you're undercover Aurors."
"Well, she's right," Harry said. "Do you think I'd be here if I hadn't been ordered to attend?"
"You could be here for political reasons," Neville replied. "To make contacts and friends."
Which was probably what his grandmother had told Neville. Harry shook his head. "Do you think Sirius would send me if he wasn't going to bother attending himself?" Neville's grimace told him that his friend thought so. Probably another result of his grandmother's influence.
"He's visiting his wife's family, isn't he?" Lavender asked, leaning forward.
Harry had a brief flashback to Hogwarts' rumour mill. "Yes."
"And Hermione is with them, right?" Yes, Lavender had the same expression as when she had spread the latest news in their house.
"Yes," Harry said.
Lavender nodded, as if that had been a great revelation. "I knew for years you'd end up together, you know. Ever since you dumped Parvati for her."
"I didn't dump Parvati for her," Harry corrected the witch. "Parvati wanted me to break off my friendship with Hermione."
Lavender nodded. "As I said."
Harry frowned at her, but didn't bother trying to correct the witch. "So, are you a couple?" he asked instead.
Both nodded and Neville even blushed slightly.
"You make a nice couple," Bathilda said.
Harry glanced at her. He had heard her sound more convincing when defending Dawlish's latest stupidity.
"Thank you!" Lavender either was a much better actress than Harry had thought, or hadn't picked up on Bathilda's lack of honesty.
Neville, though, was wearing the same expression he wore in the Wizengamot when talking to Malfoy. Quite protective of Lavender, was he?
"Oh, there you are!"
Harry turned around. Luna was all but dragging Ron towards them. "Hello, Harry! Neville! Lavender! Auror Meringworth!"
And Bathilda's polite smile grew even more forced while Ron looked slightly embarrassed.
Luna was unfazed, of course. "Isn't it great of the Ministry to order their Aurors to attend the ball? We wouldn't have been able to attend otherwise! All the food, the music, the dancing - no wonder Ron likes being an Auror," she said, apparently without taking a breath, as she leaned over and started filling a plate with food. Harry noticed that she wasn't wearing her dirigible plum earrings, but quite tasteful silver earrings in the shape of snowflakes.
"Weren't we supposed to keep this a secret?" Bathilda asked, glaring at Ron.
Harry's friend shrugged. "She figured it out herself - she's a great journalist, you know."
"And it wasn't as if it was a big secret," Luna added, then stuffed a shrimp into her mouth. "It's all Harry's fault, anyway," she added after swallowing.
"What?" Harry stared at her.
"You wouldn't be here, without Hermione, unless you were ordered to attend," she explained. "Oh, delicious!"
Faced with Bathilda's frown, Harry shrugged. It wasn't his fault.
"It's a great party. Have you seen the gardens? They've covered them in Warming Charms!" Luna suddenly pouted. "And then they went and added wards against animals, so all the poor animals outside can't come in and escape the cold! Isn't that cruel?"
"It's for security purposes," Bathilda said. "So criminals cannot send conjured animals into the manor."
"And so all the animals in the forest have to suffer because of a few bad apples?" Luna shook her head. "That's not fair!"
"I don't think the guests want to share the gardens with all the animals of the forest," Neville said. "Most of them would eat the plants, too."
"Plants grow back," Luna retorted. "And the animals wouldn't hurt anyone - it's not as if there are dangerous animals in the forest."
"Unless someone conjures dangerous animals. Like venomous snakes," Bathilda said with a sniff.
"They can be handled with a bezoar."
Just when Harry thought the argument would grow heated, the band started another song and Luna perked up. "Oh, our favourite! Come, Ron! We have to dance!"
Harry resisted waving when Ron was dragged off to the dance floor. Instead, he handed Bathilda a glass of fresh juice. That earned him a smile.
"Oh, look - the rumours were true; Smith found a witch for the ball," Lavender said. "Poor thing."
Harry turned around. There was Michael Smith, talking to Malfoy, with a witch on his arm. "Poor thing?" he asked.
"I heard she's a recent emigrée from Québec. Rich, last of her family and absolutely naive. She probably has no idea that he cheated on his last girlfriend," Lavender went on.
The witch did look… Harry wouldn't call it naive. Honestly happy to be here, perhaps? She was striking, with a tanned complexion that perfectly set off her long, blonde hair.
"Her dress's French," Lavender said. "Madam Malkin's would never have such a risqué decolletage."
She sounded quite jealous, in Harry's opinion. Like Parvati had sounded when talking about that American witch. With good cause, in this case - the dress fit the witch like a glove, and she had the figure for it, too.
He briefly wondered if he should keep an eye on the couple, in case Smith started to bother his date.
Then he wondered why he thought that.
There's Harry!, Hermione Granger thought once she had spotted him. He was standing at the edge of the buffet, talking with Neville, Lavender and that female Auror friend of his, Meringworth. Didn't Meringworth have a fake date of her own? If she weren't playing the role of the naive, friendly Marie Levesque, she would have frowned. That Auror needed a clawing if she was trying to seduce Harry!
And Smith needed a lesson as well, she added to herself when she saw towards whom the pureblood ponce was steering them: Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson!
"Michael! So nice to see you!" Malfoy said with his snotty smile while Parkinson nodded with a rather vapid expression - the typical hanger-on. The witch would probably smile and nod if Malfoy introduced her as a minion.
"Good evening, Draco. Pansy." Smith nodded at both. "Marie - may I present to you Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson, dear friends of mine."
"Enchantée," Hermione said, her pleasant smile growing just slightly wider at the brief frown that crossed the two purebloods' faces when they were introduced to her, and not the other way around.
"She's from Québec," Smith added. "She had to leave after the recent unpleasantness."
"Oh!" It was impressive how quickly Parkinson recovered from the slight, fake compassion replacing fake politeness. "You're a refugee from the war?"
"Emigrée," Hermione corrected the witch. "I left after I lost my entire family. Sold the manor, transferred the vaults - I didn't want anything to tie me to a country that 'ad cost me so much," she added.
Malfoy's eyes widened for a moment - he must have realised that she was both the head of her family and rich - if the fact that she was dressed in the latest robes from Paris's most expensive couturier hadn't clued him in already. Parkinson was a little slower on the uptake, but Hermione didn't miss how the witch's smile froze for a moment before her pug nose wrinkled in a faint sneer. "How sad! You lost your entire family?"
"To dark curses, yes," Hermione said. Seeing Smith's eyes light up at that, she didn't have to fake her shudder.
Malfoy nodded in apparent sympathy. "My father fought in the war against the Dark Lord. He faced the Dark Lord himself and was almost killed by a dark curse. He did prevail, though. Without him, the war would have been lost."
Hermione had to struggle not to dispute those lies. Harry and Dumbledore had defeated Voldemort! With an effort - she hoped her hesitation would be attributed to Levesque's tragic past - she asked: "Oh?"
"Oh, yes. My father risked his life spying on the Dark Lord, discovering his weakness and luring him into an ambush. Each time he met the Dark Lord, he was facing the Unforgivable Curses!"
Hermione shuddered once more, remembering her own brushes with dark wizards and witches. Or vampires. She felt Smith's arm tighten around her waist. "Enough of those dark tales," he said. "This is a ball, after all. We should dance!"
Hermione nodded with apparent eagerness. Dancing was much more preferable to talking to Malfoy and Parkinson. Or discussing the Dark Arts with anyone.
And Smith, for all his disturbing fascination with the Dark Arts, could dance, as he now demonstrated. Hermione didn't make any missteps which she would have had to blame on unfamiliarity with British dances, but she wasn't on his level. Which, she told herself, helped maintain her cover. Cats were graceful, but they also didn't dance that often.
A song later, Smith was steering her towards the buffet again - although not towards the corner still occupied by Harry and Meringworth. And Ron and Luna, Hermione noted with slight satisfaction. Instead, Smith introduced her to the host, Balthasar Greengrass, and his wife, Mirabel.
This time, Hermione curtsied - Marie Levesque was a guest, an emigrée and lower-ranked than a member of the Wizengamot.
"You're from Québec?" Greengrass asked.
"Yes, sir," Hermione answered. "I emigrated after my family died in the recent war." That would prevent further questions into her past - unlike Parkinson, the Greengrasses would be too polite to pry. "I'm planning to start a new life in Britain - we 'ave distant family 'ere. France is a possibility as well, of course."
"Britain is a land of opportunity," Smith said, a little too quickly - he almost cut off the host, Hermione noticed. Though, judging by the smiles and glances the Greengrasses exchanged, they didn't take offence.
"Indeed." Greengrass inclined his head.
"But what about those 'Death Eaters' I 'eard about?" Hermione asked with wide eyes. "Aren't they still a danger?"
"There's only one of them left, and he won't last much longer," Greengrass said. He sounded confident - but Hermione knew how many Aurors were placed around the manor. "The others have already been killed by the Aurors."
She couldn't resist. "And those thieves?"
That made Greengrass frown slightly. "They aren't that dangerous. If our best Aurors were not focusing on the last Death Eater, they would have been arrested already."
His wife nodded. "They were lucky to escape so far - they managed to rob two manors, but failed twice and had to run with their tails between their legs."
Those were planned deceptions! Hermione forced herself to nod in apparent agreement. "I see."
"And France is, honestly, not a good place to live," Madam Greengrass added. "Unlike Britain, it is a monarchy. The current Duc d'Orléans is a decent man, but who knows if his successor will be as adept at governing? France is always just one step away from a revolution."
Smith nodded. "The French are belligerent. Britain is much more peaceful - we've learned our lesson in the last war, while the French didn't. They are far too aggressive."
"There 'asn't been a revolution in France in centuries," Hermione pointed out. Not counting the muggle ones, of course.
"Then there's bound to be one soon," Smith said. "They've been harbouring criminals as well - they refuse to cooperate with our Ministry so we can't prosecute them."
She blinked. "You mean those thieves are French?"
"That would certainly explain their audacity," Greengrass said.
As they left the Greengrasses to talk with other guests, Hermione hoped that she hadn't inadvertently drawn attention to Jeanne as a suspect. But even with her padded catsuit, Jeanne was both taller and curvier.
A few minutes later, she found herself alone at the buffet while Smith dealt with a call of nature. She eyed the food with a snort - for all their remarks about France, the Greengrasses certainly didn't seem to eschew French cuisine.
"Miss Levesque?"
She turned to find herself facing Malfoy again. "M. Malfoy?"
"Did Michael leave already?"
Hermione didn't have to fake her surprise. "Bien sur que non!" she exclaimed. "'E just had to step out." What was Malfoy insinuating?
"Ah." Malfoy nodded, then leaned forward and lowered his voice. "I was merely concerned that he might have committed a faux pas."
"A faux pas?"
He nodded again. "He did cheat on his last girlfriend, you know. It's why we were surprised he found a date for the ball."
So that was the little backstabber's angle. "'E did?" she asked, moving her hand to her lips with a gasp.
"Oh, yes, he did. It was quite the scandal, actually - in our circles." Malfoy smiled in what he probably thought was a comforting manner. "I wanted to let you know, in case he strayed again."
And he probably wanted to sabotage Smith's possible marriage to a rich foreign witch, who would be easier to take advantage of than a witch with close ties to other Old Families and who would rely on her husband's advice. "I… I see." She nodded, a little shakily. "He didn't mention anything."
Malfoy's smile slipped a little. "It might have been an oversight - he was probably too overcome by your beauty. Please don't mention it to him, lest he misunderstand my intention."
As close as Malfoy was, and with how his eyes strayed towards her bust every few seconds, Hermione doubted that she misunderstood his intention at all. But Parkinson would probably believe that Malfoy had only acted to sabotage Smith's relationship. Typical. "Thank you." She slowly, hesitantly nodded.
As soon as Malfoy turned away, she glanced at the corner where his father was talking to his allies and cronies. The elder Malfoy didn't seem to be paying any attention to his son, but that could be an act - unlike his son, Lucius Malfoy was quite gifted at intrigue.
But Hermione didn't have time to deal with this. She had to proceed with the plan's next step. As soon as Smith returned.
Where was he, anyway? She looked around, then froze.
Harry was headed her way.
"Excuse me for a moment," Harry Potter told Bathilda, "I have to check something."
"Ah, OK," she replied as he was already turning away, headed towards the young witch who had come with Smith. The witch had looked rather disturbed during her brief chat with Malfoy, and the way she froze when she noticed him walking towards her wasn't a good sign either.
Harry smiled at her as he bowed with a flourish. "Harry Potter, at your service." It was a slight breach of protocol, to present himself like that - but then, leaving your date alone instead of with friends was a worse faux pas.
She curtsied in return. "Marie Levesque. Enchantée." She had a husky voice, in addition to her striking appearance, he noted. A round face - but then, she had a curvy figure. A moment later, she blinked. "'Arry Potter?"
He was tempted to answer 'the one and only', but smiled instead and nodded. "Yes. You might have heard of me." His fame might be of use, for once.
"Of course! The Boy-'Oo-Lived!" She nodded, smiling.
She wore heavy makeup, Harry noted. It suited her, though. "You're French?"
"Québecois," she corrected him.
He nodded. That explained the slightly different accent from Jeanne's - practically every French wizard or witch he had met had had the same accent after seven years at Beauxbatons. 'Court French', Jeanne called it - no one wanted to sound like an uneducated provincial witch in France, or so she claimed.
"Do you… wish to dance?" she asked.
Now it was his turn to blink. He had only planned to check on her - who knew what Malfoy was up to - but now… He nodded and held out his hand to her. "Indeed."
She took it, and a moment later, they were on the dance floor.
Not a moment too soon, either - he spotted Smith glaring at him from where the wizard had left Miss Levesque.
"I couldn't help noticing," Harry said, leading them into the midst of the dance floor, "that you looked a little shocked after Mr Malfoy talked to you."
"Ah…" She hesitated a moment.
"I'm an Auror," Harry said.
"Oh. It wasn't… 'e just informed me of a rumour. A private rumour," she added before he could pry.
"About your date's recent affair?" Harry took a guess.
That earned him a frown. "Does everyone know about this but myself?"
He couldn't resist. "Yes." His smile earned him another frown. "I take it Mr Malfoy warned you not to trust him?"
"Yes."
The git probably had ulterior motives, but Harry couldn't prove it. "Wasn't his girlfriend with him?" he asked instead.
"No…"
He could see from her expression that she had come to the same conclusion. He nodded with a wry grin as he led her into the next song. Whatever Malfoy was planning, she would no longer be an unsuspecting target.
Hermione Granger knew she shouldn't be dancing with Harry. She shouldn't even be talking to him - she had taken great care with her disguise, using heavy makeup and cheek inserts to change the appearance of her face, not to mention the padding in her dress, but no disguise was perfect.
But she loved every moment on the dance floor with him. The thrill of the danger she was courting only added to the exhilarating feeling. She did control herself when Smith cut in, though - she had a plan to execute, after all.
A plan which was delayed for a little longer, now, since Smith led her through several dances in an obvious attempt to upstage Harry - even though it was quite widely known that Harry was in a relationship. But then, Smith would probably cheat on her in Harry's place.
Finally, though, they were back at the buffet, and Hermione sighed in quite an obvious way. "I need a drink, I believe," she said. "I enjoyed the dancing very much, but it left me a little thirsty."
"Understandable," Smith told her, with a wide smile, as he snapped his fingers, ordering one of the servers carrying a tray full of slender wine glasses towards them.
Hermione took one, drank it quickly, then grabbed another. "Oh… I'm sorry," she said. "I was just so thirsty."
Smith's smile grew wider. Of course, he wouldn't have missed that she hadn't eaten much - the inserts in her mouth which changed the shape of her cheeks made eating a hassle - and two large glasses of wine on an empty stomach would have left her quite tipsy, if not for the potion she had taken beforehand.
And as she expected, he proposed getting some fresh air in the gardens. She agreed, of course, and took care to lean more strongly against him as he led her outside. And then acted as if she didn't notice how he was leading her away from the other guests enjoying the gardens.
"It's remarkably warm for the season," she said, once they were sitting on a bench in an artificial clearing.
"Warming Charms, my dear," Smith replied. "Not everyone can be expected to cast them themselves."
Especially after imbibing copious quantities of alcohol, Hermione thought. And it would be terribly embarrassing for the Greengrass family if a drunk guest passed out in their gardens and died from exposure. She nodded and took a deep breath, then leaned back on the bench, arching her back as she stretched.
And while Smith's eyes were glued to her chest, a flick of her wrist had her wand slide into her hand from the enchanted holster inside her glove.
"Stupefy! Obliviate!"
It took her less than a minute to bind, paralyse and silence the wizard and stash him inside a dense bush. And two minutes to change into her catsuit.
Five minutes later, she was back in the manor - through a window on the first floor.
London, Ministry of Magic, December 16th, 1998
The bloody thieves had escaped again! And that damned Black was hindering the investigation! John Dawlish wanted to curse out loud as he walked from the Atrium of the Ministry towards the lift, but that would set a bad example for his young partner. He entered the lift and sighed as soon as the doors closed.
"It wasn't your fault that the thieves escaped," Bathilda said.
He snorted. "I know that. And Bones knows that. And even Fudge knows it. But that doesn't matter. The thieves escaped from a force I commanded. And that makes it my fault."
"But there was nothing else you could have done!" the young Auror exclaimed, shaking her head.
John smiled against his will - she was so earnest, almost naive. "I could have gathered more Aurors to chase them instead of letting Potter and Weasley handle it, and I could have had more of the area covered in Anti-Apparition Jinxes."
"But… more Aurors would have hindered each other because they would have been disillusioned while chasing after the same target. They might even have cursed each other by mistake since they would have been unable to tell friend from foe." Bathilda shook her head. "None of us were trained to fight in a big group. And we needed the Disillusionment Charms so the muggles wouldn't notice us."
"You've been talking a lot with Potter and Weasley, haven't you?"
She blushed but was saved from answering by the doors opening to Auror headquarters. "We started at the same time, and most of us take our breaks together," she replied as they left the lift and headed to their office.
A glance confirmed that she looked as worried as she sounded. He chuckled. "It's nothing to be ashamed of. For all their arrogance, Weasley and Potter were trained by Moody - they know how to fight." If only Moody hadn't taught them his attitude as well. Bloody loose cannons.
Bathilda nodded, smiling shyly. "And the female thief escaped Harry even though he prevented her from apparating!" she added as they entered their office.
John grunted. "She lured him there. There's no way Potter could have managed to keep her from apparating. Not at the speed they were going." Anti-Apparition Jinxes didn't cover that much space. No, the thieves had planned that.
"But… what for? Johnson and Brown haven't found any traps."
John grinned. "I don't know - yet. But this was a set-up. Trust me, I can feel it in my gut."
She nodded, but she didn't look convinced. He didn't mind - she'd come round once he gathered more evidence. Provided, of course, that he wasn't removed from the investigation by Bones. He sighed again. "I'll go and inform Bones and Scrimgeour. Get started on the report."
"Alright!" She smiled at him, doing her best to cheer him up as he nodded at her and left their office.
Sometimes he felt as if he didn't deserve a partner like her.
*****
"...and based on the speed of the thieves' brooms, we can safely assume that they were using Firebolts. Auror Potter, who had the longest contact with the thieves, agreed with that conclusion. I've given orders to check the recorded sales with Spudmore." John doubted that the thieves had made legal purchases, but you never knew.
"I see." Scrimgeour nodded. "And you remain convinced that Potter's pursuit of one of the thieves was a set-up by them?"
John nodded. "The other thief managed to clear the area covered by Anti-Apparition Jinxes in less than a minute, and those were cast by half a dozen Aurors. The thief Potter was chasing would have been able to outrun his jinxes in the same time frame."
"But according to the Aurors at the scene there were no signs of a trap," Scrimgeour said.
"That doesn't mean anything. These thieves have demonstrated exceptional skill in Curse-Breaking and stealth," John said. He knew this was a set-up. "We only saw two of them. I wanted to search the house for the third thief, but Black refused to give us permission. Aurors Potter and Weasley are searching the house." Probably.
"That's not unexpected. By all accounts, the intruders were detected before they could break through the wards." Bones spoke up for the first time since John had started his report. "A similar situation to the attempted break-in at Longbottom Manor."
John shook his head. "The thieves robbed two Old Families. At Davis Manor, they were prepared for us and escaped easily. And they would almost certainly have been aware that Bellatrix Lestrange was discovered when she approached Black's house, so they must have been prepared for that as well. The missing third thief is the key to this; I'm certain."
"Well, if anyone is in their house, Aurors Potter and Weasley will find them," Scrimgeour said.
John refrained from scoffing. Potter and Weasley were good, but they were not perfect. And they were too arrogant to catch these thieves. "We should search the house with a larger force. Two Aurors are more easily fooled than a dozen."
"If Black refuses to let them search his house there's nothing we can do," Bones said.
"And it's not just Potter and Weasley - Black and his wife, as well as Potter's girlfriend, will support them, won't they?" Scrimgeour added.
This time, John scoffed. Civilians. Black might be a master of dark curses, but that didn't make him an Auror. And his wife was French - cut from the same mould. And Granger was a thief herself.
He blinked. He hadn't seen either Black's wife or Granger there.
Bones's question interrupted his train of thought. "Is that all?"
"Yes, Ma'am," he replied. "The investigation is just starting - we're still collecting all the reports and going through the evidence we secured."
"Good. I'll inform the Minister. With Potter, Weasley and Black involved so closely, I don't think there'll be consequences for this failure."
John nodded, but he wasn't as optimistic as Bones. Black hated the Ministry and especially the DMLE, and Granger shared those sentiments.
He shook his head as he walked back to his own office. Neither Granger nor Black's wife had been at home. Black had claimed they were in France, but… Black couldn't be trusted. He might have been innocent of the crime of which he had been accused, but John knew the man had done a lot of shady things in the conflicts with the Dark Lord. And he had taken Granger under his wing - a convicted thief - and paid her debts. She claimed to have been framed, but John knew better. No one who was innocent acted like that witch. She had been working for Dumbledore in that whole affair as well.
What if… He stopped for a moment, holding his breath.
What if this whole attempted robbery had been planned by the Blacks, Granger, Potter and Weasley to fool everyone else? What if they were the thieves? Merlin's balls, it all made sense! It explained how the thieves could fool the entire Auror Corps while robbing Old Families' manors! It was a conspiracy!
He turned around, starting to walk back to Bones's office, then stopped. No. He couldn't tell Bones or Scrimgeour, either. They wouldn't believe him. Not without proof. To accuse a member of the Wizengamot of robbing Old Families - and one of the richest wizards in Britain as well… He'd be ruined. Or worse.
No, he had to investigate this himself. Find evidence. Expose the whole plot and bring them to justice. Bathilda could… No, he couldn't even tell her. She was too close to Potter. And she was too naive - Potter would realise that she knew even if she didn't say anything. And Moody, who might believe him, was still in a coma in St Mungo's. Unless Moody was part of this as well - he had worked for Dumbledore, hadn't he?
John closed his eyes and cursed under his breath. He would have to do this alone.
*****
London, No 12 Grimmauld Place, December 16th, 1998
"Yes, I'm alright," Harry Potter repeated, smiling at Hermione's face in the enchanted mirror.
She frowned, though. "Are you really?"
"Really. I wasn't hurt." He shook his head.
"You have a tendency to downplay your injuries."
"You can ask Ron if you don't trust me." He laughed at the scowl that caused.
"I'm just worried. You ran off in the middle of our talk, and I didn't hear anything until you called me." She was still looking upset - or annoyed - more than reassured, as far as he could tell.
"No one got hurt. Not even the thieves," he told her.
"Did you catch them?"
He grimaced. "They escaped."
"Again?"
Harry gritted his teeth. "Yes, they did. They had a head start, though."
She looked a little doubtful. "Who discovered them?"
He wanted to roll his eyes. "Sirius noticed that Crookshanks was hissing at the air above the house."
"Oh! Crookshanks spotted another intruder?"
"Yes," Harry admitted.
"First he discovers Lestrange, and now the thieves! He's such a great cat! Isn't he, Harry?" She was beaming at him.
"Yes, he is a great cat," Harry admitted. And an even greater pain.
"Is he with you?" she asked with a wide smile.
He blinked and glanced around. The orange furball was lying on the windowsill. "Yes, he is," he replied, suppressing a sigh.
"Oh, can you hold the mirror so he can see me?"
Harry Potter clenched and bared his teeth as soon as he turned the enchanted mirror towards the fat cat. Crookshanks ignored him, of course. He also didn't spare Hermione more than a bored-looking glance, but she didn't seem to care.
When he heard Hermione coo at her pet, he closed his eyes. "There you are! You're such a great cat! And such a vigilant guard! Harry will reward you for this with a special meal!"
"I will?" Harry replied before he could stop himself. He flipped the mirror back to face him and winced at Hermione's expression.
She huffed. "Yes, you will! It's the least that he deserves!"
"But aren't you returning in time for dinner anyway?"
She nodded. "Yes. But you rewarding him will improve your relationship. He senses that you don't like him, and this will help remedy it," she added with a sniff.
"I'm feeding him every second morning," Harry retorted, "and it hasn't helped his attitude."
"As hungry as he is when I get up, you probably don't feed him enough."
There was no use fighting this. Not when she was in this sort of mood. "I'll get him some treats," Harry said.
"Good." She nodded, then bit her lower lip. "Are you going to be in trouble because the thieves escaped again?" she asked in a lower, softer voice.
"I don't think so," he said, trying to sound confident. He had done his best, after all - no one else had come as close to catching the thieves.
She scoffed. "Sirius can settle matters if they try to blame you."
"I don't think that'll be needed," he said. He hoped it wouldn't.
She wet her lips with her tongue. "So…"
"So…"
"I'll wrap up things here with Jeanne, and we'll be on our way home."
"I'll have to head to the Ministry," he said.
"We'll meet at dinner, then?"
"Yes."
Both of them were smiling at each other as the enchanted mirror faded.
*****
London, Ministry of Magic, December 16th, 1998
"...and once we finished the search of the building without finding any sign of intrusion, we returned to the Ministry," Harry Potter finished his verbal report.
Dawlish narrowed his eyes at him. "No sign of any intrusion? The wards of the vault were not disturbed?"
"We found no sign of any intrusion," Harry replied. He wasn't about to reveal any details about his home - that was none of the Ministry's business.
Dawlish pressed his lips together. "I see. And the thief you were pursuing managed to escape using Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder - the same powder they used in the Davis robbery."
"Yes." Harry clenched his teeth. "I sent conjured animals into the affected area to trigger any traps, but by the time I entered it myself, the thief had already escaped. Probably through the sewers."
"Probably?"
"I was watching the escape routes before I entered, but she might have escaped while I was inside."
"She?" Dawlish leaned forward. "I thought the thief was disillusioned during the entire chase."
"I recognised her voice when she ordered the thieves to split up when we rushed at them," Harry replied. "She was the thief I encountered at the Davis robbery."
"The one who escaped you." Dawlish stared at him.
"Yes," Harry spat out.
The other Auror leaned back.
"It doesn't sound like you could have stopped her," Bathilda said, looking up from the parchment she had used to take notes.
"Indeed." Dawlish nodded. "Unless you had a Hand of Glory."
"Those aren't easy to come by," Harry said. Rather dark, too. And disgusting - who would want to carry a mummified human hand round with them?
"A number of Old Families might have acquired one in the past," Dawlish said.
"The Blacks didn't," Harry replied, narrowing his eyes at the implication.
"Was anyone else present in the house during your search?" Dawlish asked, looking up from his notes.
"Apart from Kreacher, our house-elf, no. Both Hermione and Jeanne - Miss Granger and Madam Black - were in France, in our new holiday home," Harry said.
"Your girlfriend, or so I heard."
Harry gritted his teeth at the tone. "The details of our relationship are private."
"I see."
No, he didn't. Harry glared at him. "Do you have any other questions?"
"Not at the moment. Thank you." Dawlish nodded. "I'll get back to you if there's anything else."
Harry nodded sharply and left the office. At least the git hadn't brought up Hermione's conviction this time.
*****
London, No 12 Grimmauld Place, December 16th, 1998
Hermione Granger wasn't waiting in the entrance hall for Harry to return from the Ministry. He was fine, after all, and if she closed her eyes, she could still smell the horrible stench of that sadistic concoction he had used against her. Instead, she was sitting in her room, reading the latest of Malfoy's proposals for the next session in the Wizengamot - this time about the 'obvious need to implement stricter standards for promotions in response to the lowered hiring standards'. It was an obvious ploy to favour purebloods for promotion - well, obvious if one knew what all the 'familiar with Wizarding Britain's society', 'well-versed in etiquette' and 'undivided loyalties' selection criteria meant to a member of an Old Family.
She scoffed, then frowned. Part of the reason she was in her room and not in the study was that each time she breathed loudly, snorted or otherwise drew attention to her nose, the stupid dog snickered. As if her ordeal had been funny!
She huffed and put the parchment down. Sirius wouldn't have trouble blocking that proposal - it was a little too blatant. He would just have to point out that even with new employees, one should focus on their performance, especially in these 'trying times'. She grinned - even the Old Families were aware that nepotism could be their ruin now. But despite that, Sirius would have to spend time and gold dealing with this drivel - which is what Malfoy probably wanted all along. Well, thanks to Bulstrode and Davis, gold wasn't a problem.
She frowned. Between the crisis with Gringotts and the loss of the fortune of two Old Families, with a number of businesses' assets tied up in court due to Davis, the economy should start being affected. On the other hand, most of the gold had been sitting around gathering dust. She should look into this - although she wasn't certain if the Ministry was actually tracking any relevant statistics, apart from tax revenue. Not that she had any experience with economics either - although that, at least, was something she could easily remedy by studying the appropriate textbooks. Once she had the time.
Sighing, she closed her eyes, rubbed her nose and tried to focus on her work again. If she prepared a list of arguments to counter the proposal, Sirius would have an easier - and probably cheaper - time dealing with the wavering idiots in the Wizengamot. Now… She licked her lips and started making notes. Mentioning that dangerous criminals wouldn't be caught by Aurors more concerned with etiquette than duelling was an obvious opening line. Pointing out that adding vague criteria made it easier to sabotage careers to spite a rival was a logical argument, but wouldn't sway people who considered that the proper way of doing politics. Which was the majority of the Wizengamot. But leaving it out would be dishonest and make Sirius look stupid or callous. And that might backfire once the Wizengamot was reformed.
A knock on the door interrupted her. "Yes?" she called out.
"Hermione?"
Harry! She jumped up and quickly cast a cleaning charm on her house robes. "Come in!"
She hugged him before the door was fully open and was kissing him before it closed again. His arms around her, his warm body pressing against hers… she felt good.
Then she remembered the chase, the stench and her lies, and tensed.
"Is something wrong?" he asked as they separated.
"No," she lied. Nodding at her desk, she added: "Just the latest attempt by Malfoy to add more discrimination and nepotism to the Ministry."
To her surprise, Harry flinched slightly at hearing that. She cocked her head sideways. "Is something wrong?"
He shook his head. "No. Just Dawlish trying to find someone to blame for today's failure."
That git! She scowled. "He's trying to blame you?" Of course, the idiot would!
Harry shrugged. "He agreed with Bathilda that I couldn't have stopped the thief, but he still wanted to find any mistakes I might have made."
"Well, did you make any mistakes?" Hermione asked. He had almost caught her, after all - if he had gotten a little luckier with just one Stunner...
He sighed and sat down on her bed. "Apart from missing with my curses?"
She joined him, putting one hand on his shoulder. "Yes." It wasn't selfish - he wasn't hunting them, after all, but Crouch.
She felt him shrug, very slowly, under her hand. "I haven't been able to analyse it in detail with Ron. I'll have to do that once Ron has finished telling Luna everything she can't use in an article. But… anything I could have done would have endangered the Statute of Secrecy. Maybe if I had conjured birds to block her…"
She pressed her lips together. Birds? Crashing into her? That might have worked. She loathed the stupid animals even more for that. "Wouldn't that have had a high chance of seriously hurting the thief?"
"If I had hit her with a Stunner at the speed she was flying, she wouldn't have fared any better, I think."
And yet, he had cast at her. She frowned - she couldn't help herself - and tried to cover it up. "Wouldn't that have endangered the Statute of Secrecy as well?"
"She was disillusioned. I could have covered up a crash with a fallen street light or something." He grinned. "Besides, the Obliviators are good at handling such things. I'll get her next time."
That wasn't what she wanted to hear. "I thought you were investigating Crouch."
"Well, I don't think Dawlish will catch the thieves, and once Ron and I have caught Crouch, we'll probably replace Dawlish."
That wasn't something she wanted to hear either. Fortunately, Jeanne called them to dinner before Hermione had to think of something else to say.
*****
London, No 12 Grimmauld Place, December 17th, 1998
"What happened? I managed to escape as planned, but you let Potter chase you through half of London before losing him."
Hermione Granger frowned at her tutor's implied accusation. "I didn't let him chase me - I couldn't apparate. They had covered the whole area in Anti-Apparition Jinxes. I tried multiple times, without success."
"That's not possible," Mr Fletcher retorted. "I had no trouble apparating as soon as I had left the vicinity. To single you out, they would have had to predict your route perfectly - and then they would have done the same to me."
"I know that!" If she were in her other form, her fur would have bristled. "But it's what happened - I was blocked from apparating. And since there was no one else around, and they didn't block you, it had to have been Harry who was doing it."
Mr Fletcher scoffed, but didn't contradict her. "Potter would have had to be on Dumbledore's level to keep casting so many Jinxes while chasing you - and casting Stunners at you at the same time."
"Well, he was personally trained by Dumbledore," Sirius cut in. "Who knows what tricks he learned? He didn't destroy Voldemort with spells you learn for your N.E.W.T.s, did he?"
Hermione had a well-founded suspicion about what Harry had used to destroy Voldemort. Blood magic. But that wasn't something she'd discuss with anyone. However, Sirius had a good point. "I underestimated Harry. That won't happen again."
"It better not," Mr Fletcher grumbled. "He almost caught you twice - and third time's the charm. You better find out what he can do."
Hermione pressed her lips together. She had escaped from Harry twice already, and she would continue doing so! But she wouldn't cheat and spy on him. At least not as Hermione - she already felt guilty enough keeping her secret from him.
And besting him in a fair competition felt too good to spoil it!
*****
London, No 12 Grimmauld Place, December 25th, 1998
"Merry Christmas!"
"Merry Christmas!"
"Merry Christmas!"
"Joyeux Noël!"
"Open the presents!"
Hermione Granger rolled her eyes at Sirius's outburst, but smiled anyway. He didn't even make a token effort to rein in his exuberance. Just like a dog, really. She giggled at that, earning her a smile from Harry and a brief suspicious glance from Sirius before he continued summoning the presents.
She caught Harry looking at Remus.
"I've checked them. They're safe." The man nodded.
"I would never mar such a joyous occasion with cheap pranks!" Sirius lied as he started to hand out the gifts.
Hermione smirked when saw the dog's expression upon realising that the presents were actually safe - she had checked them herself. And dealt with Sirius's pranks - both the obvious decoys meant to fool Remus as well as the actual prank spells. Really, as if she'd let him turn Harry into a dog!
He should be glad that she had refrained from pranking him in retaliation. She smiled sweetly in response to him frowning at her, then opened the gift from her parents first. As soon as she pulled the wrapping paper away, she had to stifle a gasp. Enid Blyton's collected works!
"As expected - more books!" Sirius commented, ignoring the elbow Jeanne poked into his side.
"Of course!" Hermione replied, blinking a few times.
"Enid Blyton?" Harry craned his neck. "Aren't those books a little…" He trailed off, but she knew what he meant.
She smiled. "I had all of her series as a child. My grandparents bought me one series each summer. And now I have them again." With these, her book collection, lost with her home after Malfoy framed her, was completely restored.
"Ah." Harry wrapped his arm around her waist and briefly pulled her against him. He understood. "Don't worry - we'll get Crouch, and your parents will be able to return."
She nodded, feeling a slight pang of guilt at having sent them away in the first place - and at not feeling too guilty about that. If Crouch weren't still a threat, she would be celebrating Christmas with her parents. But she would want to be with Harry. She sighed as she carefully set the box with the books down next to her feet and started on unwrapping her other gifts.
Remus's gift was a rare book on Arithmancy - copied, as he explained, from Hogwarts' restricted session. She thanked him profusely and didn't mention that she had made her own copy a few years ago, thanks to Dumbledore granting her access to the library over the summer.
Jeanne's was a matching set of robes, shoes and underwear made by Francois Baletiers, one of Paris's grand couturiers. Very expensive and, as Hermione discovered when she pulled the garments out of their enchanted box, very sexy. She didn't have to fake her blush.
Harry's was a pair of books. A glossy, signed copy of 'Seven Championships' by Filius Flitwick. And a small, thin booklet, 'A quick guide to combat for Storm Wizards' by Hans Balzer.
"Moody translated it himself and made annotations," Harry explained when she looked at him and raised her eyebrows. "He wanted to give it to every new Auror, but the Ministry opposed it - apparently, no matter how insightful they were, texts written by Grindelwald's best combat instructor were deemed unsuitable for British wizards and witches."
Ah. That Balzer. The name had sounded somewhat familiar. "Duelling and combat," she said, "is there something you want to tell me?"
Harry cleared his throat. "Well… I thought you'd like some useful and interesting new books?"
She snorted. Harry wasn't subtle. But he meant well. And he cared so much… She leaned over and kissed him before opening Sirius's gift.
She blinked. And stared. "A Firebolt?" she asked, looking at the dog. She already had one!
He grinned at her, though she saw that it was slightly forced. "Now you and Harry have matching brooms. The fastest on the market!"
She caught him glancing at Harry, who was looking slightly embarrassed, and understood. "You told him to buy one for me?"
"You need the best broom available," Harry replied. "And I merely made a suggestion when he asked me what you'd like."
She forced herself to smile. Harry meant well. And he obviously thought she'd need the broom in case she had to flee from Crouch.
But he would want to fly with her, and she would have to put on an act on the broom or risk him recognising her flying style.
And, of course, Harry would want to put the information contained in his gifts into practice. Which meant more sandbagging.
Not that Harry knew any of that - he just wanted the best for her. She couldn't fault him for that. Sighing, she leaned into his side and watched him unwrap her own gift - a complete collection of Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes stories.
And giggled when he frowned at her and asked: "Are you trying to tell me something?"
*****
Devon, Ottery St Catchpole, December 26th, 1998
"Here, Hermione! Our gift for you!" Luna beamed at Hermione as she handed over a gift wrapped in paper which glowed in all the colours of the rainbow. Harry Potter didn't have to use his glasses to know it was a book. By now everyone knew that the witch preferred books to almost any other gift. He was certain that an old, rare book would have impressed her more than the Firebolt Sirius had given her yesterday.
But a Firebolt could carry her to safety whereas an old book wouldn't save her if Crouch attacked her. Not even an old book on duelling or fighting - Hermione wasn't hopeless any more, but she wouldn't be able to defeat the likes of Crouch any time soon. Which was the reason Harry had urged Sirius to buy her a Firebolt. A lecture on how spending 'exorbitant amounts of gold on gifts defeats the spirit of Christmas' was a small price to pay for Hermione's safety.
"The latest edition of 'Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them'? Thank you!" Hermione's smile matched Luna's, Harry noted.
The blonde nodded happily. "It's even better than the latest edition - I've added corrections and annotations! You've got a unique edition!"
Hermione blinked, then checked the book and froze for a second.
Harry craned his neck - indeed, almost every page had had notes added to it in Luna's handwriting.
"Thank you, Luna. I'll treasure it!" Hermione said.
Harry saw that Hermione's smile was a little forced, but Luna didn't seem to have noticed - she was still beaming at her. He was happy - the witch meant well and had obviously spent a lot of time and effort on her gift.
Ron nodded. "The original was great, but recent editions have failed to add the latest research and observations. Scamander has grown a little complacent."
Luna pouted. "They just don't want to acknowledge The Quibbler! Even though Daddy was the first since Newton Scamander to observe Three-leafed Pygmy Dryads in their natural habitat!"
Hermione frowned. "Really?" she asked as she flicked through the pages until she reached the creature's entry.
"Yes! Newton only observed the main variant, but didn't describe the yellow-leafed variant!" Luna nodded several times. "I wanted to glue a picture we've taken on to the page, but Ron said that would be too much."
"You've got pictures?" Hermione leaned forward.
Luna nodded once more and pulled out a thick envelope from her pocket. "Pictures of all the animals we observed!" She handed a stack over.
Hermione held up a picture. "This is you and Ron camping."
"Oh, yes." Luna nodded. "But there's a Hiding Humper behind the tent - if you wait long enough you can spot his shadow when he moves!"
"We totally missed it," Ron added, putting his arms around Luna, who leaned into him in response, "until we went over the pictures afterwards."
There was a moving shadow, Harry Potter thought, though it could have been a leaf or one of the tent's flaps twisting in the wind. He handed the picture back after another glance at Ron and Luna holding each other in front of the tent.
A year ago, he'd have been jealous of their obvious happiness. And ashamed of being jealous. But now he was with Hermione. His girlfriend, even though they weren't using that term.
But they cared for each other, and that was all that mattered at the end of the day.
*****
Kent, Greengrass Manor, Britain, December 27th, 1998
Harry Potter couldn't help feeling a little jealous as he watched Ron and Luna dance in the middle of the ballroom in Greengrass Manor. His two friends looked happy together - happier, in his biased opinion, than most of the other couples surrounding them. If Hermione were here… He sighed. She wouldn't be happy here, surrounded by the the very people who had tried to destroy her life. He knew it, he understood it, but, seeing his friends dancing together, he still wished she were here.
He took a sip from his glass. Pumpkin juice wasn't the most posh choice of drink at a ball, but he wouldn't drink alcohol while technically on duty, and the only other non-alcoholic option would have been Butterbeer - and that wouldn't be posh enough for the occasion. And while Harry didn't care about the host family and their friends, he didn't want to damage Sirius's standing among the less bigoted members of the Wizengamot by playing the uncouth, muggle-raised half-blood. Of course, according to Hermione, Butterbeer wasn't completely non-alcoholic anyway.
That he had arrived without a date was as far as he could go - Sirius's friends and allies would understand that Harry wouldn't risk rumours of him dating someone else, and Greengrass's cronies would have to swallow the pointed hint at the fact that Harry was only present because he had been ordered to be by Scrimgeour.
Which was true. Otherwise, he'd be in France with Hermione, Sirius and Jeanne. Probably visiting Jeanne's family. A much more appealing prospect than standing guard over the Yule Ball in Greengrass Manor. If you could call it standing guard when he wasn't even out patrolling the wardline or checking the hallways. On the other hand, Dawlish was out there.
He let his gaze wander over the crowd filling the ballroom. He didn't know many of the guests. Not personally, at least - he knew the names and faces of the various Wizengamot members, of course. But not many of their younger relatives - few of the guests had been at Hogwarts with him.
But there was Bathilda, standing at the corner of the buffet, head almost swivelling round as she kept looking at every entrance. If she tried any harder to look like a guard she'd have to keep her wand drawn. He grinned and walked over, grabbing a canape on the way. "You know, you're not exactly blending in," he said after casting a privacy charm.
"Our duty is to guard the ball," she replied, briefly glancing at him.
"Without making it obvious," he said. "At least that was what Scrimgeour told me twice in person."
Bathilda sighed and turned her attention to him. "You know why he said that."
Of course, Harry knew that. "Would I make a scene?" he asked, grinning.
That earned him a frown. "You would - if you could blame someone else."
"Touché," he admitted. "Speaking of someone to blame - where's your date?"
"Theo's dancing," she replied, nodding towards the dance floor.
Harry saw Nott with Greengrass and frowned. "He's left you standing here, hasn't he?"
"I can hardly expect him to sacrifice his evening just to keep up appearances." She was frowning again. "It was nice enough of him to volunteer as my date."
Harry doubted that Nott would have found a better date anyway. "Still, that's both unprofessional and impolite."
"We have danced together. And I expect that we will dance together once more before the evening ends," she retorted.
Harry scoffed. "After he's danced with every daughter or granddaughter of an Old Family, I suppose."
"He isn't like that," Bathilda shot back. "And wouldn't you dance with your friends?"
Harry glanced at her. "I wasn't aware I had friends here. With a few exceptions." Among which Draco Malfoy, whom Harry could spot dancing with Parkinson on the other side of the room, definitely didn't number. Fortunately, Malfoy had avoided him so far - just like in their last years at Hogwarts.
"Oh, you!" Bathilda scoffed. "Everyone knows the Greengrasses aren't your favourite people, but they're one of the Old Families, and at least half the guests are friends of your godfather!"
Acquaintances would be a more correct description, Harry thought. Or allies of convenience. If they knew what Sirius and Hermione were planning… He snorted, then schooled his features and ended the privacy charm as he spotted one actual friend headed towards him.
"Hello, Neville," he greeted him. "Lavender."
"Harry! I've been looking for you for a while," the wizard smiled broadly, then looked at Bathilda.
"Neville, Lavender - this is Bathilda Meringworth. We're colleagues. Bathilda - Neville Longbottom and Lavender Brown. We were in Gryffindor together."
"Hello!" Lavender beamed at the witch. "So, you're covering for Nott, Harry?"
"Pardon?" Bathilda frowned.
Neville grimaced. "Sorry. Lavender noticed that you arrived with Nott, but haven't spent much time together."
"Not enough to be a romantic couple," Lavender cut in. "And if you were here as friends, you'd be chatting together with others more often. And you've been looking around with a more serious expression than Harry."
"Sorry," Neville repeated himself. "She's convinced that you're undercover Aurors."
"Well, she's right," Harry said. "Do you think I'd be here if I hadn't been ordered to attend?"
"You could be here for political reasons," Neville replied. "To make contacts and friends."
Which was probably what his grandmother had told Neville. Harry shook his head. "Do you think Sirius would send me if he wasn't going to bother attending himself?" Neville's grimace told him that his friend thought so. Probably another result of his grandmother's influence.
"He's visiting his wife's family, isn't he?" Lavender asked, leaning forward.
Harry had a brief flashback to Hogwarts' rumour mill. "Yes."
"And Hermione is with them, right?" Yes, Lavender had the same expression as when she had spread the latest news in their house.
"Yes," Harry said.
Lavender nodded, as if that had been a great revelation. "I knew for years you'd end up together, you know. Ever since you dumped Parvati for her."
"I didn't dump Parvati for her," Harry corrected the witch. "Parvati wanted me to break off my friendship with Hermione."
Lavender nodded. "As I said."
Harry frowned at her, but didn't bother trying to correct the witch. "So, are you a couple?" he asked instead.
Both nodded and Neville even blushed slightly.
"You make a nice couple," Bathilda said.
Harry glanced at her. He had heard her sound more convincing when defending Dawlish's latest stupidity.
"Thank you!" Lavender either was a much better actress than Harry had thought, or hadn't picked up on Bathilda's lack of honesty.
Neville, though, was wearing the same expression he wore in the Wizengamot when talking to Malfoy. Quite protective of Lavender, was he?
"Oh, there you are!"
Harry turned around. Luna was all but dragging Ron towards them. "Hello, Harry! Neville! Lavender! Auror Meringworth!"
And Bathilda's polite smile grew even more forced while Ron looked slightly embarrassed.
Luna was unfazed, of course. "Isn't it great of the Ministry to order their Aurors to attend the ball? We wouldn't have been able to attend otherwise! All the food, the music, the dancing - no wonder Ron likes being an Auror," she said, apparently without taking a breath, as she leaned over and started filling a plate with food. Harry noticed that she wasn't wearing her dirigible plum earrings, but quite tasteful silver earrings in the shape of snowflakes.
"Weren't we supposed to keep this a secret?" Bathilda asked, glaring at Ron.
Harry's friend shrugged. "She figured it out herself - she's a great journalist, you know."
"And it wasn't as if it was a big secret," Luna added, then stuffed a shrimp into her mouth. "It's all Harry's fault, anyway," she added after swallowing.
"What?" Harry stared at her.
"You wouldn't be here, without Hermione, unless you were ordered to attend," she explained. "Oh, delicious!"
Faced with Bathilda's frown, Harry shrugged. It wasn't his fault.
"It's a great party. Have you seen the gardens? They've covered them in Warming Charms!" Luna suddenly pouted. "And then they went and added wards against animals, so all the poor animals outside can't come in and escape the cold! Isn't that cruel?"
"It's for security purposes," Bathilda said. "So criminals cannot send conjured animals into the manor."
"And so all the animals in the forest have to suffer because of a few bad apples?" Luna shook her head. "That's not fair!"
"I don't think the guests want to share the gardens with all the animals of the forest," Neville said. "Most of them would eat the plants, too."
"Plants grow back," Luna retorted. "And the animals wouldn't hurt anyone - it's not as if there are dangerous animals in the forest."
"Unless someone conjures dangerous animals. Like venomous snakes," Bathilda said with a sniff.
"They can be handled with a bezoar."
Just when Harry thought the argument would grow heated, the band started another song and Luna perked up. "Oh, our favourite! Come, Ron! We have to dance!"
Harry resisted waving when Ron was dragged off to the dance floor. Instead, he handed Bathilda a glass of fresh juice. That earned him a smile.
"Oh, look - the rumours were true; Smith found a witch for the ball," Lavender said. "Poor thing."
Harry turned around. There was Michael Smith, talking to Malfoy, with a witch on his arm. "Poor thing?" he asked.
"I heard she's a recent emigrée from Québec. Rich, last of her family and absolutely naive. She probably has no idea that he cheated on his last girlfriend," Lavender went on.
The witch did look… Harry wouldn't call it naive. Honestly happy to be here, perhaps? She was striking, with a tanned complexion that perfectly set off her long, blonde hair.
"Her dress's French," Lavender said. "Madam Malkin's would never have such a risqué decolletage."
She sounded quite jealous, in Harry's opinion. Like Parvati had sounded when talking about that American witch. With good cause, in this case - the dress fit the witch like a glove, and she had the figure for it, too.
He briefly wondered if he should keep an eye on the couple, in case Smith started to bother his date.
Then he wondered why he thought that.
*****
There's Harry!, Hermione Granger thought once she had spotted him. He was standing at the edge of the buffet, talking with Neville, Lavender and that female Auror friend of his, Meringworth. Didn't Meringworth have a fake date of her own? If she weren't playing the role of the naive, friendly Marie Levesque, she would have frowned. That Auror needed a clawing if she was trying to seduce Harry!
And Smith needed a lesson as well, she added to herself when she saw towards whom the pureblood ponce was steering them: Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson!
"Michael! So nice to see you!" Malfoy said with his snotty smile while Parkinson nodded with a rather vapid expression - the typical hanger-on. The witch would probably smile and nod if Malfoy introduced her as a minion.
"Good evening, Draco. Pansy." Smith nodded at both. "Marie - may I present to you Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson, dear friends of mine."
"Enchantée," Hermione said, her pleasant smile growing just slightly wider at the brief frown that crossed the two purebloods' faces when they were introduced to her, and not the other way around.
"She's from Québec," Smith added. "She had to leave after the recent unpleasantness."
"Oh!" It was impressive how quickly Parkinson recovered from the slight, fake compassion replacing fake politeness. "You're a refugee from the war?"
"Emigrée," Hermione corrected the witch. "I left after I lost my entire family. Sold the manor, transferred the vaults - I didn't want anything to tie me to a country that 'ad cost me so much," she added.
Malfoy's eyes widened for a moment - he must have realised that she was both the head of her family and rich - if the fact that she was dressed in the latest robes from Paris's most expensive couturier hadn't clued him in already. Parkinson was a little slower on the uptake, but Hermione didn't miss how the witch's smile froze for a moment before her pug nose wrinkled in a faint sneer. "How sad! You lost your entire family?"
"To dark curses, yes," Hermione said. Seeing Smith's eyes light up at that, she didn't have to fake her shudder.
Malfoy nodded in apparent sympathy. "My father fought in the war against the Dark Lord. He faced the Dark Lord himself and was almost killed by a dark curse. He did prevail, though. Without him, the war would have been lost."
Hermione had to struggle not to dispute those lies. Harry and Dumbledore had defeated Voldemort! With an effort - she hoped her hesitation would be attributed to Levesque's tragic past - she asked: "Oh?"
"Oh, yes. My father risked his life spying on the Dark Lord, discovering his weakness and luring him into an ambush. Each time he met the Dark Lord, he was facing the Unforgivable Curses!"
Hermione shuddered once more, remembering her own brushes with dark wizards and witches. Or vampires. She felt Smith's arm tighten around her waist. "Enough of those dark tales," he said. "This is a ball, after all. We should dance!"
Hermione nodded with apparent eagerness. Dancing was much more preferable to talking to Malfoy and Parkinson. Or discussing the Dark Arts with anyone.
And Smith, for all his disturbing fascination with the Dark Arts, could dance, as he now demonstrated. Hermione didn't make any missteps which she would have had to blame on unfamiliarity with British dances, but she wasn't on his level. Which, she told herself, helped maintain her cover. Cats were graceful, but they also didn't dance that often.
A song later, Smith was steering her towards the buffet again - although not towards the corner still occupied by Harry and Meringworth. And Ron and Luna, Hermione noted with slight satisfaction. Instead, Smith introduced her to the host, Balthasar Greengrass, and his wife, Mirabel.
This time, Hermione curtsied - Marie Levesque was a guest, an emigrée and lower-ranked than a member of the Wizengamot.
"You're from Québec?" Greengrass asked.
"Yes, sir," Hermione answered. "I emigrated after my family died in the recent war." That would prevent further questions into her past - unlike Parkinson, the Greengrasses would be too polite to pry. "I'm planning to start a new life in Britain - we 'ave distant family 'ere. France is a possibility as well, of course."
"Britain is a land of opportunity," Smith said, a little too quickly - he almost cut off the host, Hermione noticed. Though, judging by the smiles and glances the Greengrasses exchanged, they didn't take offence.
"Indeed." Greengrass inclined his head.
"But what about those 'Death Eaters' I 'eard about?" Hermione asked with wide eyes. "Aren't they still a danger?"
"There's only one of them left, and he won't last much longer," Greengrass said. He sounded confident - but Hermione knew how many Aurors were placed around the manor. "The others have already been killed by the Aurors."
She couldn't resist. "And those thieves?"
That made Greengrass frown slightly. "They aren't that dangerous. If our best Aurors were not focusing on the last Death Eater, they would have been arrested already."
His wife nodded. "They were lucky to escape so far - they managed to rob two manors, but failed twice and had to run with their tails between their legs."
Those were planned deceptions! Hermione forced herself to nod in apparent agreement. "I see."
"And France is, honestly, not a good place to live," Madam Greengrass added. "Unlike Britain, it is a monarchy. The current Duc d'Orléans is a decent man, but who knows if his successor will be as adept at governing? France is always just one step away from a revolution."
Smith nodded. "The French are belligerent. Britain is much more peaceful - we've learned our lesson in the last war, while the French didn't. They are far too aggressive."
"There 'asn't been a revolution in France in centuries," Hermione pointed out. Not counting the muggle ones, of course.
"Then there's bound to be one soon," Smith said. "They've been harbouring criminals as well - they refuse to cooperate with our Ministry so we can't prosecute them."
She blinked. "You mean those thieves are French?"
"That would certainly explain their audacity," Greengrass said.
As they left the Greengrasses to talk with other guests, Hermione hoped that she hadn't inadvertently drawn attention to Jeanne as a suspect. But even with her padded catsuit, Jeanne was both taller and curvier.
A few minutes later, she found herself alone at the buffet while Smith dealt with a call of nature. She eyed the food with a snort - for all their remarks about France, the Greengrasses certainly didn't seem to eschew French cuisine.
"Miss Levesque?"
She turned to find herself facing Malfoy again. "M. Malfoy?"
"Did Michael leave already?"
Hermione didn't have to fake her surprise. "Bien sur que non!" she exclaimed. "'E just had to step out." What was Malfoy insinuating?
"Ah." Malfoy nodded, then leaned forward and lowered his voice. "I was merely concerned that he might have committed a faux pas."
"A faux pas?"
He nodded again. "He did cheat on his last girlfriend, you know. It's why we were surprised he found a date for the ball."
So that was the little backstabber's angle. "'E did?" she asked, moving her hand to her lips with a gasp.
"Oh, yes, he did. It was quite the scandal, actually - in our circles." Malfoy smiled in what he probably thought was a comforting manner. "I wanted to let you know, in case he strayed again."
And he probably wanted to sabotage Smith's possible marriage to a rich foreign witch, who would be easier to take advantage of than a witch with close ties to other Old Families and who would rely on her husband's advice. "I… I see." She nodded, a little shakily. "He didn't mention anything."
Malfoy's smile slipped a little. "It might have been an oversight - he was probably too overcome by your beauty. Please don't mention it to him, lest he misunderstand my intention."
As close as Malfoy was, and with how his eyes strayed towards her bust every few seconds, Hermione doubted that she misunderstood his intention at all. But Parkinson would probably believe that Malfoy had only acted to sabotage Smith's relationship. Typical. "Thank you." She slowly, hesitantly nodded.
As soon as Malfoy turned away, she glanced at the corner where his father was talking to his allies and cronies. The elder Malfoy didn't seem to be paying any attention to his son, but that could be an act - unlike his son, Lucius Malfoy was quite gifted at intrigue.
But Hermione didn't have time to deal with this. She had to proceed with the plan's next step. As soon as Smith returned.
Where was he, anyway? She looked around, then froze.
Harry was headed her way.
*****
"Excuse me for a moment," Harry Potter told Bathilda, "I have to check something."
"Ah, OK," she replied as he was already turning away, headed towards the young witch who had come with Smith. The witch had looked rather disturbed during her brief chat with Malfoy, and the way she froze when she noticed him walking towards her wasn't a good sign either.
Harry smiled at her as he bowed with a flourish. "Harry Potter, at your service." It was a slight breach of protocol, to present himself like that - but then, leaving your date alone instead of with friends was a worse faux pas.
She curtsied in return. "Marie Levesque. Enchantée." She had a husky voice, in addition to her striking appearance, he noted. A round face - but then, she had a curvy figure. A moment later, she blinked. "'Arry Potter?"
He was tempted to answer 'the one and only', but smiled instead and nodded. "Yes. You might have heard of me." His fame might be of use, for once.
"Of course! The Boy-'Oo-Lived!" She nodded, smiling.
She wore heavy makeup, Harry noted. It suited her, though. "You're French?"
"Québecois," she corrected him.
He nodded. That explained the slightly different accent from Jeanne's - practically every French wizard or witch he had met had had the same accent after seven years at Beauxbatons. 'Court French', Jeanne called it - no one wanted to sound like an uneducated provincial witch in France, or so she claimed.
"Do you… wish to dance?" she asked.
Now it was his turn to blink. He had only planned to check on her - who knew what Malfoy was up to - but now… He nodded and held out his hand to her. "Indeed."
She took it, and a moment later, they were on the dance floor.
Not a moment too soon, either - he spotted Smith glaring at him from where the wizard had left Miss Levesque.
"I couldn't help noticing," Harry said, leading them into the midst of the dance floor, "that you looked a little shocked after Mr Malfoy talked to you."
"Ah…" She hesitated a moment.
"I'm an Auror," Harry said.
"Oh. It wasn't… 'e just informed me of a rumour. A private rumour," she added before he could pry.
"About your date's recent affair?" Harry took a guess.
That earned him a frown. "Does everyone know about this but myself?"
He couldn't resist. "Yes." His smile earned him another frown. "I take it Mr Malfoy warned you not to trust him?"
"Yes."
The git probably had ulterior motives, but Harry couldn't prove it. "Wasn't his girlfriend with him?" he asked instead.
"No…"
He could see from her expression that she had come to the same conclusion. He nodded with a wry grin as he led her into the next song. Whatever Malfoy was planning, she would no longer be an unsuspecting target.
*****
Hermione Granger knew she shouldn't be dancing with Harry. She shouldn't even be talking to him - she had taken great care with her disguise, using heavy makeup and cheek inserts to change the appearance of her face, not to mention the padding in her dress, but no disguise was perfect.
But she loved every moment on the dance floor with him. The thrill of the danger she was courting only added to the exhilarating feeling. She did control herself when Smith cut in, though - she had a plan to execute, after all.
A plan which was delayed for a little longer, now, since Smith led her through several dances in an obvious attempt to upstage Harry - even though it was quite widely known that Harry was in a relationship. But then, Smith would probably cheat on her in Harry's place.
Finally, though, they were back at the buffet, and Hermione sighed in quite an obvious way. "I need a drink, I believe," she said. "I enjoyed the dancing very much, but it left me a little thirsty."
"Understandable," Smith told her, with a wide smile, as he snapped his fingers, ordering one of the servers carrying a tray full of slender wine glasses towards them.
Hermione took one, drank it quickly, then grabbed another. "Oh… I'm sorry," she said. "I was just so thirsty."
Smith's smile grew wider. Of course, he wouldn't have missed that she hadn't eaten much - the inserts in her mouth which changed the shape of her cheeks made eating a hassle - and two large glasses of wine on an empty stomach would have left her quite tipsy, if not for the potion she had taken beforehand.
And as she expected, he proposed getting some fresh air in the gardens. She agreed, of course, and took care to lean more strongly against him as he led her outside. And then acted as if she didn't notice how he was leading her away from the other guests enjoying the gardens.
"It's remarkably warm for the season," she said, once they were sitting on a bench in an artificial clearing.
"Warming Charms, my dear," Smith replied. "Not everyone can be expected to cast them themselves."
Especially after imbibing copious quantities of alcohol, Hermione thought. And it would be terribly embarrassing for the Greengrass family if a drunk guest passed out in their gardens and died from exposure. She nodded and took a deep breath, then leaned back on the bench, arching her back as she stretched.
And while Smith's eyes were glued to her chest, a flick of her wrist had her wand slide into her hand from the enchanted holster inside her glove.
"Stupefy! Obliviate!"
It took her less than a minute to bind, paralyse and silence the wizard and stash him inside a dense bush. And two minutes to change into her catsuit.
Five minutes later, she was back in the manor - through a window on the first floor.
*****
