Title: Father's Day
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I do not own anything except for my computer. I don't even own my own connection to the internet. That is borrowed. So sue someone else.
Author's Notes: This chapter came to me pretty late last night, but I thought I'd treat you guys by writing it. There is one more chapter, and a short epilogue I will be writing. This chapter does end on a cliffhanger. Deal with it. ;)
Chapter 15: Shocking Revelations
Harry squinted against the darkness, trying to push away the darkness that threatened to envelope him. Slowly, his vision began to return, illuminating the blurry form of Madame Pomfrey as she leaned over Artie, examining his injuries. Harry groaned, shifting his weight as his stiff muscles cried out in protest. As much as he wanted to remain with Ginny, his first responsibility was to Artie. And so he had returned to Hogwarts, spending yet another night sleeping in the chair beside Artie's bed.
"His injuries are healing nicely," Madame Pomfrey noted as she poked the side of Artie's ribcage, eliciting a groan from the youngster.
"When will he be able to leave?" Harry asked, leaning forward on his chair as he adjusted the bridge of his glasses.
"In an hour or so," Madame Pomfrey responded. "I'd like to keep him longer, but no doubt he'll want to rejoin his friends as soon as possible."
Artie nodded eagerly, now fully awake. "Can I go yet?"
"Artie!" Harry warned, but the young Gryffindor gave him a "Who me?" look. Harry sighed, shaking his head lightly.
"I want you to go back to Gryffindor House and rest," Harry said warningly. Artie rolled his eyes. "I mean it, or I'll bring you back here myself."
"Okay, okay," Artie grumbled. Harry reached out and tousled the boy's hair, a grin spreading across his face.
"Maybe later I'll take you to go see your Aunt Ginny," Harry said. "She's at St. Mungo's."
"What happened to Aunt Ginny?"
"She's having some problems dealing with some things," Harry said, his mind flickering back to Hermione and Ginny. A pang echoed through his stomach at that thought. Hermione … who had broken up with him.
"Harry?"
Harry snapped out of his train of thought, his emerald gaze flickering to Artie's concerned expression.
"Does this have to do with Uncle Draco?" Artie scowled, his eyebrows furrowing at the mention of Draco's name. Clearly, he was more than happy to believe that Draco had murdered his father.
"Partly," Harry admitted, "but also partly because of what I did."
"But … he killed my dad," Artie protested.
"Sometimes, Artie, those things which seem the most obvious are actually the most confusing," Harry said.
"But I heard him," Artie argued.
"What if someone took the polyjuice potion, Artie?" Harry asked quietly. "Would you have been able to tell then?"
Artie frowned, crossing his arms in front of his chest, clearly not satisfied. But he didn't answer Harry. Harry let out a sigh, rising to his feet. He reached out with his left hand, giving a gentle squeeze to Artie's shoulder.
"Don't overdo it," Harry said quietly before turning to leave the medical ward.
* * *
Harry stepped inside Ginny's room, eager to check on his friend's condition. Draco was there, no big surprise, sitting in a chair by Ginny's bed, perusing the Daily Prophet. Molly had her knitting needles in hand, and Arthur was trying to make polite conversation with Draco, who'd occasionally nod or grunt in response to one of Mr. Weasley's inquiries. It would all have been very humorous, Harry mused, if one of their party wasn't comatose.
Slowly, Harry made his way to Ginny's bedside, giving Mrs. Weasley a weak grin as he leaned over the bed and gave Ginny a kiss on the forehead. Draco gave Harry a scowl, but a quick look at Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and he decided to remain silent.
"Hello, Harry dear," Mrs. Weasley said. "How is Artie doing?"
The Hogwarts professor gave Mrs. Weasley a warm smile. "He gets to go back to his dormitory today, but he's promised me he'll take it easy."
"That's good, dear," Mrs. Weasley said warmly.
"Where is Hermione?" Harry asked.
"She went back to Hogwarts to take a shower," Mrs. Weasley said. "She said she'd be back later."
Harry nodded, his gaze finally shifting to Draco as he made his way over to wear the Slytherin was sitting.
"Catching up on the news?" Harry asked, leaning against the wall and staring at the blond-haired wizard.
Draco scowled and looked up at Harry. "Reading the financial reports for my company." He threw the paper down on the small table beside Harry and muttered. "You're welcome to read, but I doubt you'd understand them."
Harry's gaze narrowed, but he said nothing, instead snatching up the paper, intent on proving Draco wrong, even though it was a foolish notion. He had no experience in financial matters and there was no possible way he could hope to top Draco. His eyes scrolled down the parchment as he scanned the row for "Revenues"
It read 123,000 Galleons.
Harry's eyes widened at the large figure, but quickly his eyes scanned the row for expenses.
34,501 Galleons.
Harry frowned. Something did not seem right about his numbers. In fact … they looked almost familiar.
He closed his eyes, thinking about the numbers as he briefly ran through various memories. It was an trick he had learned as an Auror to try to remember important details.
123,000 … 34,501 … No commas, he was positive.
123000 … 34501…nothing that short either.
12300034501…No, that wasn't it.
10543000123… No…that wasn't it either.
34501123000…
Suddenly, Harry's eyes snapped open. His eyes widened as he stared at the parchment, and his throat grew as dry as the Sahara. He had seen those numbers before. They had been on the parchment Hermione had decoded. The parchment the Deatheater had been carrying.
Draco's company was supplying the deatheaters with money.
Harry's eyes narrowed as his gaze flickered over Draco. His right hand curled into a fist, crinkling the paper as he turned to face Draco, his hands lowering.
"Did you approve these numbers, Draco?" Harry asked, his voice low. He wasn't sure how he managed to keep the rage out of his voice, but somehow he did. Hermione would have been proud.
Draco gave Harry a derisive snort. "You don't know anything about business, Potter. I've seen the figures,
but after they've already been approved. That's handled by my vice president."
Vice president…
Slowly, Harry reached into the pocket of his trousers, pulling out a folded card he'd gotten so many months ago.
Bartholomew Chambers, Vice President, Malfoy Industries, Inc…
Amelia's father was the source of the Deatheater's funding.
Harry opened his eyes to find Molly, Draco, and Arthur all regarding him with curious stares.
"Harry, dear, what's wrong?" Molly asked. Harry found himself at a loss for words. Instead, he thrust the paper at Draco. Draco gave Harry a curious glare, staring at the rumpled paper and snatching it from Harry's hand.
"What?" the young CEO spat out, scanning the parchment. Harry inhaled sharply as he tried to clear his mind.
"Your company … Your vice president has been channeling funds to the Deatheaters."
"What?!?" Arthur and Molly said in unison.
"That's not possible!" Draco shouted, his eyes scanning over the newspaper furitively, as if he was searching for something to absolve his employee.
"No, it's true," Harry said, his voice a bit stronger. "I tracked down the funds to Gringotts myself."
"There is no way!" Draco shouted, standing to his feet abruptly.
"Vault 345, 3000 Galleons," Harry said. "I tracked them myself."
Draco gave Harry a dirty glare, muttering several curses under his breath before disappearing with a pop. Harry stood there for a moment, staring at the space where Draco had been before turning to look at Mrs. Weasley. The older witch was sitting in her chair, her book laid flat in her lap. Her lips were pursed so tightly Harry wondered if even a crowbar would pry them open.
"Harry, are you sure about this?" Mr. Weasley broke the tense silence. Harry looked at the older man, giving him a slight nod.
"I should go tell Kingsley," Harry said quietly. "He may want to send some people to investigate this."
Mr. Weasley nodded, and after muttering a quick goodbye Harry closed his eyes, disappearing with a pop. He squeezed his eyes shut at the momentary disorientation that always happened when he apparated somewhere, fighting the queasiness that always came until his feet hit the ground.
Then that moment came and Harry lurched forward, nearly stumbling into the door of Kingsley's office. Harry straightened, brushing off his robe before opening the door to his former boss's office.
As usual, it was a mess. It was nice to see some things never changed. Kingsley's head snapped up and a brief scowl crossed his face as Harry entered. He had not been happy when Harry had asked him to release Draco. In fact, he'd almost gone through the roof. He'd adamantly refused Harry's request until Harry mentioned that it would not be good press if the Boy-Who-Lived went to the Daily Prophet and professed his belief in Draco's innocence. Reluctantly Kingsley had acceded, but he was less than thrilled about it.
"I have something that might make up for our argument yesterday," Harry said. Kingsley scowled.
"I doubt that," the Auror said, "but go ahead."
"Bartholomew Chambers is the one funding the Deatheaters."
Kingsley's eyes widened, his jaw going slack as he stared at Harry dumbfounded. "How … how did you find."
Harry unfolded a copy of the Daily Prophet off Kingsley's desk, opening the paper to the financials section and pointing to the lines he'd picked out. "They're matches, Kingsley. Identical to the code you gave me. Bartholomew approved these figures. He's the one you're after."
Harry expected his former supervisor to be thrilled. Instead, he looked positively furious.
"Well, this is just great!" Kingsley shouted, throwing the paper on the desk. "A major case solved and I have no one to stick on it!"
Harry frowned. "What do you mean 'no one?'"
"Exactly what I said!" Kingsley shouted, waving his arms in exasperation. "I just sent our last Aurors out on an undercover assignment. If I recall them now their cover will be blown," he glowered, turning his gaze to Harry. "The department has been extremely backlogged since you quit on us."
Harry closed his eyes, a feeling of dread and indecision passing over his body. He'd given it up his career for Hermione and for Artie. He couldn't very well go back on that now.
But what about Amelia, a voice in Harry's mind reasoned. She is going to be devastated by this news. If you can go in discreetly and get him, you might save her a lot of embarrassment.
The former Auror closed his eyes. This was not a decision he wanted to make. Every choice felt like a wrong one.
"Harry?"
Slowly the raven-haired wizard's eyes opened and he stared at Kingsley with a solemn gaze.
"I will bring him in," Harry said quietly. "This is the last time."
Kingsley's eyes widened. "You will! This is great. Let me get your badge."
Harry shook his head. "No badge, Kingsley. I'm not rejoining your force. I'm doing this for one of my students."
The head Auror frowned but settled down into his chair. "Okay, Harry. Be careful."
"I will," Harry said quietly as he turned and left the room.
* * *
Hermione had not bothered to change the code to her room, and so Harry walked in unhindered to find her drying her hair with a big fluffy towel. For a moment a pang shot through his chest as he looked upon his former fiancé, his eyes flickering down to the bare ring finger on her left hand. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, recollecting himself before he strode across the room and rested a hand on her shoulder.
"Hermione?" Harry whispered quietly. Hermione jumped, clearly lost in another world of thought. A look of surprise passed through her features as she saw Harry standing there, followed by what looked like (at least to Harry), a glimmer of pain before her normally stoic expression appeared.
"Harry, what is going on?" she asked, going straight to the point as always. Harry felt his throat dry, trying to formulate a way to tell her about this last job he wanted her to do with him.
"There's … Kingsley needs me one last time," Harry managed to get out. A frown immediately creased Hermione's features, and Harry quickly added before she could protest, "To bring in Amelia's father."
A look of horror spread across Hermione's features. "Amelia's father? Why?"
"That code you broke," Harry said softly, his emerald gaze flickering over Hermione's mahogany one. "I saw it today in the Daily Prophet. Amelia's father has been using his position at Draco's company to channel funds to the Deatheaters."
Hermione's eyes closed and Harry could almost feel her heart breaking for Amelia. He knew how horrible it was - his heart was breaking too. After a moment, Hermione opened her eyes and stared at Harry.
"Are you sure, Harry?" she asked. Harry merely nodded in response. At this, Hermione slowly slumped into her chair, resting her forehead in her hands as she tried to sort through this news.
"Come with me, please?" Harry asked, and Hermione slowly brought her gaze up to meet his.
"I don't know," Hermione said, her eyes filled with pain. "I think I should go talk with Amelia first."
"I'll go with you," Harry said quickly, drawing a surprised glance from Hermione. Feeling the need to explain himself, he continued, "I think I should talk to Amelia before I arrest her father, so she understands why I'm doing this."
Hermione closed her mouth, her eyes darting to the ceiling as she quickly contemplated this idea. She gave a curt nod and Harry averted his gaze as she hurriedly threw on a shirt and a pair of pants, not bothering to protect her modesty from the man she'd made love to numerous times. Together, the two professors headed towards Gryffindor house, their grim footsteps echoing along the stone walls of Hogwarts.
The common room was empty, save for Todd, who had a set of books open on a big wooden table in the corner. His eyes widened as he saw his professors enter the room.
"Harry!" Todd shouted, his eyes widening in shock. "But you were hurt!"
Harry frowned, his eyebrows furrowing. "Hurt? Todd, what are you talking about?"
Todd frowned, "But Amelia's father came in here and said that you'd been hurt. He took Artie and Amelia to go see you in St. Mungo's."
Harry and Hermione cast a guarded glance at each other before returning their gaze to Todd.
"How long ago did this happen, Todd?"
"Just a few minutes ago," Todd said, still clearly very confused. His expression turned sour for a moment. "I wanted to go but Amelia's father said there wasn't time." Todd scowled. "I don't know why he let her go and not me, but why are you here? Does this mean you're better? Or you weren't hurt?"
Harry barely heard Todd's questions as he grabbed Hermione's arm and began dragging her out of the common room.
"Harry, where are we going?" Hermione said as soon as the portrait of the Fat Lady had closed behind them.
"There's only one place he would have taken them," Harry muttered under his breath, icy tendrils of fear gripping his heart. "He would have been ready for this to happen. He would have had Galleons stashed in his office in case he wanted to disappear. Draco must have surprised him, and so he immediately came here to collect Amelia."
"But Artie…"
"He knows we're coming," Harry said, the anger coursing through his body. "He's going to use Artie as bait."
* * *
The trip to Malfoy industries was the longest Harry had ever taken in his life. Though it lasted only a few short seconds, his mind had time to race through a dozen different scenarios he'd encounter. None of the outcomes were good. But now adrenaline was surging through his body. Bartholomew had taken Artie, and it was up to Harry to save him.
He and Hermione rushed past the guard's booth, ignoring the shouts and calls of the watchmen as they rushed into the office building and up what must have been a dozen flights of steps. Harry barely felt the ground beneath his feet as he flew up the stairs, his mind focused solely on Artie. He didn't even register surprise as Hermione kept up with him, even though her legs were shorter and she couldn't run as fast.
Together they arrived at the doorway to the executive floor and together they went through it, stumbling into a hallway. The pair rushed down the corridor, scarcely registering names carved onto the ornate doors until they came across a door that read "B. Chambers, CFO." Hermione gave Harry a slight nod and together the two rushed into the office.
"But I don't understand why we have to stop and get money, Dad," Amelia's voice ran out.
"I told you, honey, I had to make a stop before we go see Harry," Bartholomew's harried voice came out strained.
"I'm right here," Harry said loudly, startling Artie, Amelia, and Bartholomew. Artie's eyes widened in shock and relief when his gaze settled on Harry. Amelia simply stared at him in surprise. The three were next to what appeared to be a wall safe, which was opened and Bartholomew had quickly been scooping Galleons out of.
But Bartholomew was quick, and in an instant he had dropped into a crouch, dropping the sack and pulling Artie in front of him as a shield. Amelia barely had time to register the change in her father's demeanor before he had his wand out and leveled on the back of Artie's horrified head.
"Toss your wands over here or he dies!" Bartholomew shouted, jerking Artie back towards the wand to emphasize the point. Harry felt his heart drop to his toes. Amelia simply looked horrified.
"Daddy?" Amelia said, her expression one of horror.
"It's over, Bartholomew," Harry said, his voice shaking as his gaze remained on Artie's terrified face. "Turn over your wand and we'll take you in quietly."
"You have until the count of three!" Bartholomew shouted. "One…"
Harry glanced quickly at Hermione, his eyes filled with fear. Hermione bit her bottom lip, as if trying to make a decision. Neither of them could cast a spell with Artie standing as a shield in front of Bartholomew.
"Two…"
Giving Harry an encouraging nod, Hermione slowly turned to face Bartholomew. Harry did likewise, and together the two tossed their wands in that direction. The wands rolled to a stop in front of Artie's feet.
"Amelia," Bartholomew barked sharply. "Bring me those wands. Hold them by the tips please."
Shaking, Amelia slowly made her way to the wands, tears streaming down her face as she grabbed them as her father instructed and slowly laid them by his feet. A second later he pushed Artie forward, sending the boy flying towards Harry, who quickly scrambled forward, dropping to his knees and catching the young wizard. On cue, Hermione rushed towards Amelia, carefully drawing the crying girl into a hug while casting a dirty glare in Bartholomew's direction.
The dark wizard didn't seem to notice. Instead he focused his gaze on Harry, his wand leveled at him as he slowly turned to face the four across from him.
"You, mudblood," Bartholomew barked. "By Harry and the boy now."
Hermione cast Bartholomew a dirty look, but she reluctantly released Amelia, crossing the room and kneeling by Harry's side, her arms wrapping protectively around Artie.
Bartholomew's wand never left them but his gaze flickered towards his daughter. "Amelia, come here sweetie."
But the tearful girl simply shook her head, taking a step back as the horror of the situation struck her. Bartholomew issued a scowl but said nothing as he focused his gaze on Harry, Hermione, and Artie.
"I should have known you'd never give up Potter," he hissed. "You were always too persistent for your own good."
"The Deatheaters are a dying breed, Bartholomew," Harry said quietly, drawing Artie into a hug and wrapping his other arm around Hermione as he gazed spitefully at the man who now held them hostage.
"You are a fool, Potter," Bartholomew hissed. "You just can't leave things alone, can you? Not even after your friend's death."
Harry's eyes narrowed. "What do you know about Ron's death?" Artie's back went rigid.
"You wouldn't give it up, would you?" Bartholomew said. "Not even after I ordered his death. You wouldn't give up the case, would you? Not Harry Potter the Hero - the Boy Who Lived."
"You…" Harry hissed, the hatred boiling in his body. He could feel Hermione's body stiffen at the revelation.
"No, Potter, you did," Bartholomew said, a malicious grin crossing his features. "It's your fault Ron is dead. You said the curse the moment you made the decision to pursue this case."
Harry's heart felt numb at the accusation, and even though his mind screamed in protest, guilt tore at his body. Had he caused Ron's death by becoming an Auror? His mind was swimming with thoughts.
"Don't you dare blame Harry for something you caused," Hermione's said, her normally calm demeanor hinting of barely restrained fury. "You're the reason Ron is dead, not Harry."
"Actually, that's not quite true," a sickeningly familiar voice piped up from the shadows behind Amelia. Dread gripped Harry's heart as his gaze turned towards the shadows.
"You see," the voice said. "I was actually the one who killed Ron."
"I knew it!" Artie shouted.
"That can't be," Hermione murmured, disbelief etched across her features.
"Oh, but it is," the voice said as the person belonging to it stepped out of the shadows right behind Amelia. The younger girl jumped at the sound of footsteps behind her, spinning around quickly as her head snapped up to stare at the wizard in horror. Harry's eyes narrowed at the sight of the wizard, his mind racing as the form of his nemesis emerged from the shadows.
"You see," Draco Malfoy said, his wand held tightly in his left hand and leveled towards. "I am the one who actually killed Ron Weasley."