Bring the Rain by jardyn39

Rating: PG13
Genres: Romance, Mystery
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 30/05/2005
Last Updated: 16/06/2005
Status: Completed

Harry receives a belated invitation to join the Grangers for the Easter holidays. Looking
forward to helping out with their redecorating, he soon finds himself implicated in a bank robbery.
Arthur and Kingsley will help as soon as they extricate themselves from a certain cupboard, and
even Dumbledore may struggle not to laugh at Harry’s first and memorable attempt at Apparating.
Regrettably, though, Harry may just have come to the attention of his Eminence. Inevitably, Harry
finds himself trying to break into the very bank he was falsely suspected of robbing.




1. Introduction and Prologue
----------------------------

**Bring the Rain**

by Jardyn39


**Summary**


Harry receives a belated invitation to join the Grangers for the Easter holidays. Looking
forward to helping out with their redecorating, he soon finds himself implicated in a bank robbery.
Arthur and Kingsley will help as soon as they extricate themselves from a certain cupboard, and
even Dumbledore may struggle not to laugh at Harry’s first and memorable attempt at Apparating.
Regrettably, though, Harry may just have come to the attention of his Eminence. Inevitably, Harry
finds himself trying to break into the very bank he was falsely suspected of robbing.


**Introduction**


Peter Hammond is a character introduced in “
The Hunter,” and is
a Muggle policeman nearing retirement who helped Harry and in whom Harry confided before
introducing him to Dumbledore. Hammond is an acute observer and a clever and experienced
investigating detective.

In that story he gifted an old Hunter pocket watch to Harry that had magical properties,
including an anti-Apparition charm that prevents anyone Apparating or Disapparating close by.


The Hammond character was also called upon in “
A Pauper’s Time,”
where he helped solve the clues that lead to a rescue.

This story begins just before the Easter holidays in Harry’s Sixth year.

**Chapter 1: Prologue**

*Harry’s Sixth Year, Easter*


Detective Chief Inspector Peter Hammond smiled courteously as he walked through the fire door
being held open for him by his long time friend and fellow policeman Andy Pagelow.


Pagelow had been gushing his thanks ever since Hammond had arrived.


“I can’t tell you how grateful I am,” he continued as they walked along the corridor.


“It’s no problem, Andy,” said Hammond. “Sometimes a fresh pair of eyes can help, though.”


“The thing is,” Pagelow said quietly, slowing down as they reached the half glazed partitioning.
“I’m running out of ideas on this one. This is my first major investigation, after all.”


“We all have investigations that stop through lack of leads,” Hammond said encouragingly. “We’ve
worked on plenty like that together. It’s no reflection of you.”


“That’s the problem,” he replied. “It *is* reflecting on me!”


They entered the smallest of the three incident rooms on that floor, where they found a group of
three plain clothed detectives standing in front of the evidence board, chuckling amongst
themselves.


“Ah,” said one as they entered. “The *Great One* returns. Got any more suspects?”


“I hear there’s a kid in the school over the road who’s called Rob. He’s only five but you can’t
take any chances these days.”


“Clear out of here you lot, now!” said Pagelow loudly.


Then the third, who had just noticed Hammond’s visitor badge and his rank, cleared his throat
and said, “I need to get on,” before beating a hasty retreat. The others followed.


Pagelow tried to slam the door after them, but the hydraulic door closer refused to be hurried.
Meanwhile, Hammond was looking carefully at the spartan board where the notes of the evidence were
collated.


“I don’t see anything about a Rob here,” he commented.


“No, it’s just their little joke. Rob as in Robber, you see?”


“Sorry,” said Hammond with a smile as a dejected looking Pagelow slumped into a seat.


“Do you have any other help?”


“Yes. A Sergeant from uniform. She’s collecting some results from the lab.”


“Any good?”


“Reliable but inexperienced. Still, quite enthusiastic. I’m lucky to have her really. It’s only
because of the value of the stolen items that she’s been assigned to this investigation.”


Hammond sat, thinking that description of the Sergeant could apply equally to Pagelow himself a
few years ago when he had been assigned to assist him.


“Tell me what you have, from the beginning. You know I often do the same. I find that talking
things through often helps you see things more clearly.”


*


Hammond and Pagelow were sitting in silence looking at the evidence board when the door opened
and in came a smart young woman wearing a new looking, plain suit.


“Peter, this is Sergeant Trent. Susan, this is Detective Chief Inspector Hammond.”


“Hi,” she said dumping the plastic evidence bags on the table and holding out her hand. “Call me
Susan.”


“Hello, Susan,” said Hammond and his eyes glanced down to the table.


He did a slight double take.


Inside one of the clear polythene bags, he could clearly read a name. It was upside down.


Hammond reached down and slowly rotated the bag using the tips of his fingers.


There was no mistake. It read, “Harry Potter.”




2. Arriving
-----------


**Bring the Rain**


by Jardyn39


**Chapter 2: Arriving**


Harry Potter waited patiently at the back of the car for Mrs Granger to get out of the driving
seat and unlock the back of their large estate car. It seemed that Mr Granger, who had been sat
pinned under several bags of shopping for the last part of the journey, had finally expressed the
opinion that it might have been a better idea to go food shopping *after* they’d dropped off
Harry and Hermione’s trunks.


Privately, Harry thought he had a point. As large as their estate car was, it really wasn’t
quite large enough for everything they had just brought back with them.


Harry grinned as Hermione, having got out of the car as well, rolled her eyes at him and went to
unlock the front door.


He took a moment to look around the square which was entirely paved in pale grey coloured brick
paviors with occasional feature banding in dull red and yellow. There were about ten large nearly
new looking detached houses, each with a garage and most with small grassed front gardens with no
fences between the properties.


Harry also noted that there were no pavement areas and cars were parked around the square,
including along the single narrow winding approach road.


He could hear some children laughing somewhere in the distance, presumably playing in one or
more of the gardens. It was warm and sunny that day, perfect weather for school holidays.


Between the houses in three directions, Harry could see a few trees but no other buildings.
Looking back towards the approach road, Harry could see a couple of farm buildings and the high
spire of one of the village’s two churches.


The car doors opened and the Grangers got out and Mr Granger carried several bags of shopping
into the house.


Mrs Granger unlocked the back of the car and Harry immediately dived in to bet the trunks and
other boxes.


“No,” said Harry, “these are heavy. I’ll take the trunks.”


Harry heaved out his trunk, which happened to be the closer to him, and waddled his way with it
along the narrow path towards the front door. He heaved it into the entrance lobby and returned to
get Hermione’s trunk.


Thankfully, Mr Granger arrived back in time to help. Between the two of them they just about
managed to carry Hermione’s trunk into the house.


“What on earth has she got in here?” gasped Mr Granger.


Prudently, they decided to leave it downstairs for now.


Harry returned to the car. There was a large cardboard box to bring in next. It wasn’t heavy,
but it was awkward to carry and Harry had to guess his way back because he couldn’t entirely see
where he was going. He had a choice of seeing where he was going but not where he was walking. He
decided it would be better to see where his feet were, that was there was less chance of him
tripping and breaking whatever was in the box.


Just as he almost got to the garden path, Harry heard bike wheels and fast peddling that told
him a cyclist was approaching him at a rapid rate. At the last moment there was a long high pitched
squeak of brakes being applied and an impressively long tyre skid.


Harry just waited for the collision.


When none happened, he peered over the top of the box.


A small girl was studying him closely, standing astride a battered bicycle that had chipped
glitter paint and streamers on each of the handlebars.


“Are you moving in?” she asked, pushing up her safety helmet and brushing a couple of stray
strands of her long blond hair out of her face.


“Um, no I’m just staying for the Easter holidays,” Harry answered.


“I’m on holiday too,” she replied. “So’s my brother.”


“That’s nice.”


The girl nodded and then appeared to decide that she’d devoted quite enough time to him. She
pushed herself back onto her peddles and skilfully circled him before setting off again, once more
at the same break neck speed as before.


Harry hoped she wouldn’t need the elbow and knee pads she also wore, and set off up the garden
path with the box he was still carrying.


He was about to enter through the front door, when Harry heard a loud crash and looked up with
concern.


On the garden path leading to next door’s side gate, the bike lay stricken on its side, both
wheels still turning. There was no sign of the girl though. Harry decided that it must have been
her practised method of disembarking from her bike.


After a tricky moment, he managed to get the box through the front door and decided to continue
with it into the large kitchen. This was mainly because there was nowhere to leave the box without
completely blocking the entrance lobby.


Mrs Granger followed and closed the front door having locked up the car.


“Oh, thank goodness we’re home,” she sighed, switching the kettle back on. It boiled quickly so
someone else must have had a similar idea.


“Let’s have some tea, then you can have the grand tour,” Mrs Granger advised with a smile.


Harry nodded and looked out of the rear facing windows and Mrs Granger poured the boiling water
into a large stainless steel teapot.


“That’s some view you have!” he said.


“Yes, it is rather nice,” she agreed, pulling open the large glass sliding patio window. They
stepped outside into the warm late afternoon sunshine.


The patio was just high enough to see over the fence and across the fields. In the far distance
Harry could see hedgerows and occasional trees.


“What are they growing?” he asked.


“We’re not too sure yet,” she admitted. “We thought for a while it would be left fallow this
year, but they ploughed the field earlier.”


Hermione stepped out of the kitchen door followed by her father carrying a tray of four teas
which he placed upon the timber table.


“Thank you, dear,” Mrs Granger said warmly taking a mug of tea.


“Thanks,” said Harry, also taking a mug. His said, “*You’re sweet enough without sugar*!”
on the side.


“This place is much bigger than I’d imagined, Mum,” said Hermione, who hadn’t seen the Granger’s
new home before either.


Mr Granger’s snigger into his mug and Mrs Granger suddenly defensive look told Harry that this
might have been a sore subject.


“Well,” began Mrs Granger, “I know we were looking for something a little smaller, but once we
saw this place, we decided we had to have it.”


Harry fancied that Mr Granger was biting his tongue at this point.


“The garden’s certainly lovely,” said Hermione diplomatically.


Harry looked around. Most of the garden was green lawn with evergreen border plants all around.
There was a large timber storage shed to the side as well.


As Harry turned back to look up at the rear of the house, he glimpsed the girl he’d seen before
spying at them from an upstairs window in the house next door. He smiled and gave a discrete wave
before she disappeared from view.


*


After tea, Harry and Hermione were conducted on a guided tour of the house by Mrs Granger, who
pointed out every feature and insisted they look into almost every cupboard and cubby hole. Every
room was filled with an assortment of packing crates. Mrs Granger explained that most of their
furniture was in storage until they completed their decorations. The carpets were due to be laid
the week after Easter.


The house had three generously sized bedrooms and a smaller fourth that would be equipped as an
office. Harry actually thought the smaller one was the nicer room as the large rooflight in the
sloping ceiling gave a spectacular view.


“We thought it would be easier if we bought a place that didn’t need too much redecorating,”
said Mrs Granger, pointing out the freshly painted walls.


“Unfortunately,” she continued in an undertone, “I then decided I didn’t much like the original
colour scheme.”


Harry laughed and Mrs Granger smiled guiltily at him.


*


“Harry, where would you like to sleep?” asked Mrs Granger. “You can have the living room or the
small bedroom, although we’ll need to turf you out of either at some point.”


“The small bedroom will be fine,” said Harry, “although it isn’t that small.”


“Sorry about the bare floorboards everywhere,” said Mrs Granger apologetically. “It doesn’t seem
very hospitable, especially as we’re putting you to work as well.”


“It’s fine, honestly,” said Harry with a smile.


Just then the front door slammed shut indicating that Hermione and Mr Granger had returned with
their takeaway meals.


A few minutes later they were all sat around the round kitchen table as Mrs Granger unpacked
their fish and chips meals, and Mr Granger poured them ice cold apple juice from the fridge.


Before they began to eat, they all raised their glasses to each other and said, “Happy
Holidays!”


*


Early the next morning, Harry lay on his back on his narrow camp bed looking up at the sky
through the large sloping rooflight.


He reflected on the previous day, at the beginning of which he had absolutely no idea he would
be anywhere but Hogwarts.


After breakfast he had just waved off the carriages taking almost everybody else off to enjoy
their holidays. Now that Voldemort was back, Harry wasn’t surprised that families wanted to spend
as much time together as possible. As the carriages finally went out of sight, he found that he was
feeling a little envious. A moment later he had been summoned to the Headmaster’s office.


“My apologies, Harry,” said Dumbledore, as Harry entered the room. “I had hoped to be able to
give you the good news before now. I kept quiet because I was afraid you would be
disappointed.”


“What is it, Sir?” Harry asked.


“You are to spend the Easter holiday with the Grangers. That is, I assume you would like to do
so?”


“Of course I would!” said Harry loudly, suddenly finding himself with a grin that he wouldn’t
properly shake off for hours.


“Oh, good,” said Dumbledore with a smile. “The reason I haven’t mentioned anything is that we
had a report of some unusual activity a few miles from their new house. However, I’m pleased to
report that nothing was found.”


Harry nodded.


“I would ask you to agree to a couple of precautions, however. The first is that you must agree
to wear that excellent Hunter watch of yours at all times.”


“Yes, Sir,” said Harry.


“When I say *at all times*, Harry, I mean it. Do not go anywhere without it. If you go
swimming, wear it. It will not get damaged and could save both your life as well as protect the
Grangers.”


Harry nodded, remembering the anti-Apparition properties that the watch had.


“The second thing concerns staying in contact. You must report in to us at least three times a
day. Shall we agree eight o’clock morning and evening and again at two o’clock in the
afternoon?”


“That would be fine, Sir,” replied Harry at once. “Um, how will I be able to contact you? Could
I use the Granger’s telephone?”


Dumbledore shook his head and said, “I would like you to give me your twinned mirror and you
borrow Hermione’s mirror for the duration of your visit. I know it is a terrible liberty to ask,
Harry.”


“No, it’s fine. Does Hermione know?”


“I’m afraid not. She knew you had been invited, of course, but she believes I have continued to
refuse the visit. She has made several representations upon your behalf, though.”


Harry smiled.


“Now then,” continued Dumbledore. “May I ask you to go and pack your trunk and return here as
quickly as possible with the mirror? You will Portkey to the Grangers from here, and with any luck
you will all be able to meet with Hermione at King’s Cross station.”


Harry didn’t need telling twice. He dashed out of the door, skidding to a halt and returning
briefly to shout, rather more loudly than he intended, “Thank you, Sir!”


Fortunately, Dumbledore didn’t seem to mind being shouted at on this occasion.


Harry arrived back in his dormitory to find Dobby and Winky just finishing his packing.


“Wow, thanks!” exclaimed Harry, beaming at them.


“Dobby and Winky hope Harry Potter will enjoy himself!” cried Dobby, jumping up and down on the
trunk lid to help it close.


“I know I will, Dobby, thanks.”


“Will Harry Potter require his owl cage?” asked Winky.


“I’m not sure, Winky,” admitted Harry just as Hedwig arrived at the window. Harry dashed over to
open the casement and she hopped in onto his outstretched arm.


“Hedwig,” he said, gently stroking her feathers, “I’m going to stay with Hermione and her
parents for a few days during the holiday. You can either stay here or come with us. I’m going by
Portkey, so you would probably prefer to fly there on your own. Actually, I’ve no idea where they
live! Is that going to be a problem?”


Hedwig looked at him reproachfully.


“No,” he agreed, “you could find me anywhere, couldn’t you girl?”


Hedwig nibbled his ear affectionately and flew off. Harry watched her until she was out of
sight, musing that she was bound to get there hours before he did.


Harry looked around, thinking if he would need anything else. Then he remembered the mirror and
decided he should warn Hermione.


He took the small mirror out of his pocket and gently said, “Hermione,” into the glass.


Hermione replied at once, saying, “Harry? Is anything wrong?”


“No, quite the opposite. Dumbledore said I can come!”


“Oh, Harry, that’s wonderful,” she replied, coming into view in the mirror. “But you’ve just
missed the train!”


“It’s okay, I’m taking a Portkey,” he replied before noticing her eyes.


“Hermione, what’s the matter?”


“Oh,” she said wiping her eyes, “I was a little upset, that’s all.”


“Well, try and cheer up,” he said gently.


“Okay,” she mouthed with a tearful smile.


“Oh, I almost forgot. Dumbledore wants me to give him my mirror so I can use your mirror to keep
in touch.”


Hermione’s face dropped.


“It makes sense, Hermione. Besides, we won’t need a mirror in a few hours time, will we?”


“I know. It’s just that I’ve got rather used to having you in my pocket, as it were.”


“Well, if you’d rather not have the real thing, I’ll tell Dumbledore you don’t want me to
come!”


“Don’t you dare, Harry!” she replied laughing.


Harry had met up with Hermione’s parents hours before the train arrived at King’s Cross. They
had just parked their car when Harry stepped out of the red phone box he’d arrived in and greeted
them.


The Granger’s met him with enthusiasm and Mrs Granger proceeded to tell him that she intended to
drag them both around several clothes shops in search of clothes for Harry.


“Honestly, I’m fine,” said Harry as he heaved his trunk into the back of their car.


“Er, Harry, how on earth did this trunk fit into that phone box?” asked Mr Granger.


Harry shrugged and shook his head. He had no idea.


“Um, Harry?” he enquired quietly.


“Yes, Mr Granger?”


“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t make too many objections to clothes shopping,” Mr Granger said.
“It’s just that the alternative will be more DIY stores, and I’m not sure I could cope if she found
*another* colour she preferred.”


*


Harry grinned remembering, and looked over at the many small patches of sample colours that
adorned the once white walls.


Harry looked over to the small clockwork travel alarm clock that Hermione had lent to him, and
he realised it was almost eight o’clock. He would need to check in with Dumbledore.


He swung he legs out over the cot, trying not to make too much noise. Then he remembered,
Hermione still had her mirror. He had forgotten to check in last night as well!


Harry was about to get up when there was a soft knock on the door and in came Hermione carrying
the mirror.


“Thanks, Hermione,” he said taking the small glass object.


“Professor Dumbledore?” he said clearly into the mirror.


“Good morning, Harry. I trust you slept well?”


“Yes, Sir. It’s snowing now, see?” he said, holding the mirror up to the rooflight.


“Excellent. Well, I’ll speak to you later.”


“Oh, Sir, I’m sorry for not checking in last night.”


“That’s quite alright. Miss Granger reported in on your behalf.”


Harry put the mirror on the adjacent paint tin where he had placed his glasses.


“Harry, it’s not snowing.”


“I know it isn’t, but we agreed a sort of code that tells him that I’m not speaking under
duress.”


“Oh, that’s clever.”


“It’ll work so long as I remember what day of the week it is.”


Hermione hesitated and then made to leave.


“Stay a moment?” asked Harry hopefully.


Hermione sat next to him, but seemed a little nervous.


“Thanks for reporting in for me,” said Harry smiling. “Um, Hermione, what is it?”


Hermione brushed back her hair and said, “Well, the thing is, I haven’t actually got around to
telling Mum and Dad, yet.”


“Tell them what?”


“About us.”


Harry laughed quietly and took hold of her hand.


“I think they might have guessed, actually.”


*


When they ventured downstairs, they found Mrs Granger preparing breakfast and happily enthusing
about her decoration and furnishing plans for the new house to Hedwig, who was perched upon the
back of one of the high kitchen chairs.




3. The Vault
------------


**Bring the Rain**


by Jardyn39


**Chapter 3: The Vault**


Hammond looked around the opulent marble bank lobby while Pagelow made arrangements for them to
enter the vault. The uncooperative guard on duty was doing a great job of looking at once surly and
dozy, which Hammond thought was quite an achievement.


He looked around. There were at least a dozen video cameras that he could see. There were bound
to be many more that he couldn’t.


He looked down. Every so often along the skirting were protruding red disks. These he recognised
as laser beam emitters and detectors.


The windows were high and each had strong looking grilles.


He looked towards the entrance. The guard standing at the inner door was eyeing him
suspiciously.


A rather small man then appeared wearing a pinstriped suit.


“Please accept my apologies,” he said bowing. “You would like to see the vault again?”


Hammond tried to place his accent. He thought it sounded vaguely Eastern European.


A guard accompanied them down in the small lift. Hammond noticed two more cameras within the
lift car.


They went through a strong room and found themselves looking at a giant stainless steel safe
door. It was agar.


“Do you routinely leave this open during the day?” asked Hammond, noting more cameras and
sensors.


“Oh, no,” replied the Manager. “This vault is used mainly for our long term deposits and is
rarely opened. We use the larger vault for day to day transactions. That one is open most of the
day but under constant guard.”


Hammond was about to ask why this one was left open when the Manager heaved the door open enough
for them to enter.


He didn’t need to ask then. The floor of the vault was still lined with rubble and there was a
large hole in one of the reinforced concrete side walls.


“We have relocated all of the items of value that they didn’t take, including the safety deposit
items. Well, if you don’t mind, I’ll return to my duties. Smith here will wait for you at the lift
door. Please take whatever time you need. There is an emergency phone in each area in the event of
any problems.”


He bowed again and he and the guard left the vault.


Hammond walked over to where the vault had been breached.


“Impressive,” he said.


The vault wall consisted of at least two feet thick concrete reinforced with steel bars spaced
at no more than one inch apart in two directions.


He shone his flashlight into the tunnel beyond.


“Where does it come out?”


“We don’t know yet,” admitted Pagelow. “They must have caved it in. Uniform are still
searching.”


“I suppose it’s too much to hope it caved in on top of them?”


“No, we found a spare detonator. It was deliberate.”


Hammond looked around the vault.


“No cameras in here, right?”


“Correct. Something about the electrical interference affecting the other detectors in
here.”


“Heat, sound, movement. Not one of them went off?”


“Nope. The entire system failed, but the engineers can’t trace the problem.”


“Do we really know when this was done?”


“Actually, yes. The vault was opened on two successive days last week. It was fine the first
day. The next day they found it like this. It had been months since it was opened before then.”


“When was the security system last checked?”


“There was routine maintenance performed two months ago, but the computer system is in two
independent parts that work alternately. While one is working the other carries out a continuous
self diagnostic.”


“Could the diagnostic have been rigged? Maybe both systems were set to be in diagnostic
mode?”


“That was my first thought, yes. The security company have taken a copy of the software and are
checking it now. However the quick checks they did here would indicate it is fine. Something about
built in tampering checks to see if anything was reprogrammed.”


Hammond had a sinking feeling about this.


This appeared to be an impossible robbery. He had some experience with impossible things.


“How sure are we about what got stolen?”


“Not sure at all. The bank admitted to a few bars of bullion, that’s all. The deposit boxes were
whisked away before we got on the scene, but I think it is obvious that they were after something
in there.”


Hammond looked around again.


“Have you ever seen reinforced concrete cut like that?” asked Pagelow.


Hammond had just been re-examining the opening.


“No, I haven’t. I’ve seen a vault breached using a chemical means once. That was from above
though, and the gases produced almost killed the firm breaking in. Small holes can be burnt
through, sometimes but I’ve never seen a vault like this cracked with that. Besides, there are no
residue burns here.”


“I’ve seen a diamond cutter go through reinforced concrete like butter, though”


“Yes, but there aren’t any cutting marks. Besides, these vault bars are specified to dull a
diamond or carbide blade.”


Pagelow kicked a lump of concrete in frustration.


“My report is going to make me look stupid,” he complained.


Hammond frowned, looking around the floor.


“Where’s the reinforcement that was cut out of the wall?” he asked.


“This is as we found it, apart from the bits I’ve kicked around.”


“What if a weak point was built into the vault wall?” Hammond speculated. “There’s something
weird about this rubble.”


“How? These vaults take weeks to build. Someone would have noticed a dirty great opening left in
the side of the vault. Besides, these banks are insured and they require this kind of thing to be
inspected at every stage.”


Hammond knew this to be true and nodded, saying, “I’d still recommend you check the records when
the vault was constructed. Have all this rubble sent to the lab. Every last piece and get it
analysed.”


Hammond didn’t voice what he suspected. He wasn’t sure, but the rubble looked like something
that someone unfamiliar with Muggle construction techniques might assume came out of the opening in
the wall.


*


Hammond and Pagelow sat in front of the Manager’s desk. Pagelow had used every one of his hints
to get them offered a cup of tea with no success.


“Look, I know we can’t compel you to show us the deposit boxes,” said Hammond, “but it’s pretty
obvious that it was something other than the gold they were after. This must have been a very
expensive job to pull off. That bullion would barely cover their costs.”


“I’m sorry.”


“How many boxes were broken into?”


“I cannot say.”


“How big were the boxes?”


“That information is confidential.”


“We won’t report anything,” said Hammond quietly. “Just give us something to go on.”


The Manager dabbed his forehead nervously with his neatly folded handkerchief.


“I’m sorry, but that would be quite impossible. We only called you in to satisfy the insurers. I
can assure you that we accept that your investigation isn’t likely to go very far. We have notified
the deposit keepers of their losses and none of them wished for us to disclose any
information.”


“We could get a warrant,” said Pagelow.


“No you couldn’t, and you know it.”


Hammond shrugged as if admitting defeat, and they were then shown out personally by the nervous
manager.


*


Pagelow flashed his warrant card at the parking attendant who was about to write him out a
parking ticket. He had parked on a double yellow line right outside the bank.


They got in, but Pagelow didn’t start the car.


“What do you think?”


“Well, I think that guard looks remarkably like one of those mug shots on display at the
station. I was looking while I was waiting to sign in.”


“Really? How do you notice things like that?”


Hammond shrugged and pulled out a piece of folded paper.


“Pity there weren’t any finger prints.”


“I expect the bank wiped the place down before calling you, in case you identified any of their
illustrious clients.”


“Mm,” agreed Pagelow. “What’s that?”


“This?” asked Hammond with a smile. “This doesn’t exist.”


He handed Pagelow the piece of paper, saying, “We never saw this, okay?”


“How did you get this?” exclaimed Pagelow. “Hey, you didn’t nick it, did you?”


“No, I happened to find it in my hand after I shook hands with the manager in there.”


“This doesn’t get us very far, though, does it? And anyway, why didn’t he give this to me?”


“He’s scared,” observed Hammond, reaching behind and putting on his seatbelt.


*


They entered the incident room to find
Trent entering information into the computer.

“Susan, could you do us a favour? Go and have a look at the mug shots on the board downstairs.
The one we’re after is five down and three from the left. Claim that you think you might have seen
him and pull the sheet, will you? If asked, it has nothing to do with this lot, okay?”


“Sure,” she said getting up at once and leaving.


When she’d gone, Hammond went over to help the door close. When at last it had, Hammond went
over to Pagelow.


“Now, tell me about this name?” he said, holding up the evidence bag.


“It’s nothing. I thought it was a lead, but Harry Potter turns out to be some youth living in
Surrey.”


“Little Whinging?”


Pagelow looked at him with a stunned expression.


“How?” he asked feebly as the door opened again.


“That was quick,” said Hammond watching as Trent pushed the door closed.


“I got a name but there was someone around who seemed to be asking the same question as me. I’ll
get the information later.”


“Who was asking?”


“Don’t know. Not from this station.”


“Okay, come over here and listen, will you?” asked Hammond. “Tell me about this,” he asked
again.


“Harry Potter is the reason I’m derided around here,” admitted Pagelow. “We found that inside
the vault under some rubble. We traced every Harry Potter in the country, but there was one in the
same county. I assumed it wasn’t a coincidence.


“We weren’t too sure about his age, especially given what it was we found, but we assumed that
whoever dropped it might have known him.


“I didn’t want to take any chances, so rather than going around unprepared we got a search
warrant.”


Hammond raised his eyebrows.


“Anyway, we raided the place.”


“I bet that went down a storm with his Aunt and Uncle!” Hammond said laughing.


“You’re telling me!” agreed Pagelow. “The worst of it was, as soon as we turned the sirens on
out front, this bloke leaps out of the rear upstairs window, flattens the back garden fence and
legged it down the alleyway. We were sure we had our man!”


“It wasn’t him though, was it?”


“No, it was his cousin. All I have for that day’s work is a bill for the fence repairs.”


Hammond snorted.


“How come you know so much about this kid?”


“Well, I investigated when he was attacked a few months ago. He just got in the way during a
shop robbery and he spent a few days in hospital. I even introduced myself to his Aunt and Uncle,
although I never met the cousin.”


“He’s simply a delight, I can assure you!” said Pagelow sarcastically.


“I assume you didn’t get to speak to Potter?”


“No. They just went mental whenever I mentioned his name. I couldn’t get any sense out of them
at all. Some gibberish about being at a secure centre, but he’s not on any of the juvenile
books.”


“No. He attends a private boarding school in the north,” advised Hammond. “I imagine he’s still
there.”


“Is this really worth pursuing though? I’m not just saying this because of all the derision I’m
going to get when our colleagues find out we’re following this line of enquiry again.”


“Well, let’s make sure they don’t find out, shall we?” suggested Hammond seriously. “Look, there
are three possibilities how these things found their way into the vault.


“One. Potter was there and he dropped it. Personally, I doubt a Sixth Former would be involved
in bank robbery,” *unless he had a good reason*, thought Hammond.


“Two. Someone brought it into the vault and dropped it, either by accident or on purpose.


“Three, and this I think, is more likely. This was in one of the deposit boxes that were broken
into.”


“I hadn’t thought of that. That thing is pretty old, isn’t it?”


Hammond found himself looking at the plastic bag again.


“What if?” he wondered aloud.


The other two looked at him expectantly.


“What would you say if I asked for some outside help?” he asked quietly.


Pagelow looked at him suspiciously. “Do you mean these spooks you’ve been working for?”


Hammond smiled to himself but said nothing.


“That’s what the rumour was, anyway.”


“I may have done a couple of favours for some people that don’t appear to exist.”


“Spooks,” said Pagelow smiling, utterly convinced they were talking about some branch of the
intelligence services.


“Seriously, though,” said Hammond leaning in and speaking quietly. “We won’t be able to record
anything nor use what they find in evidence. If you agree, I’ll make a few calls and open a
separate intelligence investigation. I’ll tell you where to look, but you’ll need to know when to
look the other way. These people don’t like being scrutinised, especially when they are breaking
and entering on our behalf.”


Pagelow thought for a moment, and then said, “Sure, what have we got to lose?”


“Okay,” said Hammond. “The trick is to look busy. Your leads must look like they’ve come from
your own investigations. Start by reviewing every surveillance video in the area and go back a few
months.”


“What are we looking for?”


“I’ll tell you when I know,” he said standing up. “I need to take this, okay?”


Hammond didn’t wait for an answer.


“Um, sure,” said Pagelow uncertainly. It was certainly not usual procedure to allow officers to
wander out of the building carrying evidence, especially when that officer was clearly concealing
it about his person.


“In addition, take another look at all the bank employees and the Directors too. I didn’t even
know there was a Merchant Bank there. It strikes me that it is located in rather an unusual place.
Look into that too. I also want to know who was asking questions about our security guard
friend.


“I’d recommend you piece together that concrete rubble and see of you can’t make a section of
wall again. That should take a little time and I’m sure there’s something strange about it.


“I would also like a complete set of photographs and a copy of the bank floor plans delivered to
this address,” Hammond said, handing Pagelow a card with a Post Office box address. “A detailed
plan of the local area would be good too.”


Pagelow held the card, giving Hammond a shrewd look.


“Is there more to this, Peter? I mean, it’s common knowledge that doors have opened for you
lately, haven’t they? You also get to pick and chose what to investigate, and that is rather
unusual.”


Hammond considered before responding.


“In truth, I only expected to leave here having given you my opinion of the evidence and perhaps
suggested what else you might look into. As it is, yes, I am going to investigate this. I’d rather
you didn’t speculate what my real interest is. If you become too curious, I’ll see that your
investigation is closed.”


“Are you threatening me?” bristled Pagelow.


“No. I’m asking you to investigate the criminal aspects of this case. If you wander off too far,
this investigation will stop. In fact, people will forget it ever existed.”


“Actually, from a career point of view, that might be best for me anyway,” said Pagelow
miserably.


*


Late that evening the sounds of a muffled crash and a short indistinct argument came from inside
the locked cleaner’s cupboard on the same floor.


The narrow cleaner’s cupboard door opened inwardly and out of the tiny room came two rather
unlikely looking cleaning operatives complete with a large trolley and an assortment of mops and
brooms.


Kingsley straightened his bright orange overalls and looked first at the trolley and then the
cupboard.


“No wonder it was a little cramped in there,” he said.


“Yes, I may have misread the plan,” admitted his companion. “Just look at that, though!”


“Get a grip, Arthur. It’s just a sink. We have those too, remember?” Kingsley whispered angrily,
rubbing his bruised shin.


“Yes, but the taps come out of the wall!”


Kingsley grabbed a mop, and for a moment it wasn’t clear which end he was going to use to hit
Arthur with.


“Um, I think it’s this way,” said Arthur, clearly hoping to distract Kingsley.


They walked confidently past the incident rooms, right down to the end of the corridor. Then
they went into the toilets and began cleaning, making sure they were seen. Hammond had given them
specific instructions, and one of them was that the best way to be inconspicuous was to be seen
doing what they looked like they were supposed to be doing.


It was touch and go, but Kingsley confidently washed the floor down and Arthur managed to polish
the mirrors despite his fascination with the hot air hand dryer.


After enough people had come in and promptly ignored them as predicted, they moved out into the
corridor.


Kingsley pulled rank and took control of the vacuum cleaner. Perhaps wisely, he thought Arthur
might get a little over excited with it.


They checked their ear muffs were in place, and proceeded down the corridor, pausing to vacuum
at each open doorway.


The noise this particular vacuum made appeared to be rather hypnotic, as each occupant within
the offices took on a relaxed, dreamy condition. That was probably just as well, though, because
otherwise someone might have noticed that the trailing electric lead hadn’t been plugged in.


“Which office do you suppose it is?” asked Arthur as soon as Kingsley had turned off the vacuum
cleaner.


“Well, it’s just a guess, but probably the one with Harry Potter written across the board in
dirty great letters.”


“Ah, yes,” replied Arthur, who was far too excited to notice the irritation in Kingsley’s
voice.


They entered the room and each drew out their carefully prepared list of things to do.


Kingsley went over to Trent who was sitting vacantly at her computer workstation.


“I want you to log out and the log in again,” he said gently, reading from his instructions.
“I’ll give you your new name and password.”


She obeyed at once.


Hammond’s instructions seemed to make sense to Kingsley, although he had to make him explain
them more than once. Hammond explained that they needed someone who knew how to use the computer
systems and that each change was recorded. They couldn’t just erase the information; it had to look
like someone else made the changes.


The access information Hammond had provided were for a systems operator who would not normally
have access to operational data. By the time they would finish, the records would show a routine
maintenance test.


Meanwhile, Arthur was using his wand to alter the coloured lines that formed the writing on the
white board. That done, he asked a dazed Pagelow to show him all his written notes. These were also
modified.


Finally, Kingsley performed memory charms on the two investigating officers, making sure they
understood the investigations Hammond wanted them to proceed with.


They would also make regular progress reports, although they wouldn’t know to whom they were
reporting, or why. Hammond wanted to make sure they benefited from anything they managed to turn up
but more importantly, he knew that Pagelow was a good investigating officer. Despite all their
precautions, Hammond felt it was more than likely that Pagelow could pick up the trail again.


Before they left, Kingsley picked up the demand from Mr Dursley for a new garden fence. They
could make a call to Little Whinging before dawn.


*


The next morning the two investigating detectives had a good, long overdue laugh at the expense
of their colleagues.


“Still looking for that Potter?” they had been asked.


“Potter? We were never looking for a Potter! No, it was Topper. Henry Topper.”


“Really?”


“Yes, look at the warrants. Honestly, if you can’t remember that, no wonder your own
investigation isn’t going anywhere.”


Pagelow was delighted to discover that his door now slammed properly as well. The only down side
was he spent the entire day looking for a claim he was sure he had received. He needn’t have
worried though, because a garden fence in Little Whinging had apparently repaired itself.


Eventually, Pagelow decided to go for the day. He felt frustrated that his investigation was
going nowhere.


What he needed was some good advice.


He usually called his old boss for that. Unfortunately, Peter Hammond was away on an
investigation.




4. Are you going to tell me?
----------------------------

**Bring the Rain**

by Jardyn39

**Chapter 4: Are you going to tell me?**

“Have you and Mrs Granger always worked together?” asked Harry.

“Not always, but we have since we set up our practice. At the beginning I wasn’t sure that was
such a good idea, but actually it has worked for us.”

“Why weren’t you sure?”

“Well, if you have an argument about something during the day, you tend to bring it home.”

“Oh, I see.”

“Fortunately, we never argue much. When we do, she’s always right.”

Harry snorted.

“Not really,” admitted Mr Granger with a smile. “In truth, we each have separate patient lists
and assistants. All we share really is the administration. We split the patient list fairly evenly,
except perhaps I tend to treat the older children and she’s really good with the younger ones. So
it kind of works.”

“How do you find the commuting from here?” asked Harry as he replenished his roller with
Eggshell paint.

“Oh, it’s actually about the same time as from our old place,” replied Mr Granger from the
corner of the room.

The two of them were painting the walls of the dining room and Mr Granger was doing the corners
and other more fiddly parts with a brush and Harry was doing all the wide expanses between.

“We did a couple of dry runs before we exchanged contracts so we could gauge the traffic on the
roads. I was a little concerned about being so isolated here.”

“Isolated?” asked Harry. The village didn’t seem to be that small.

“Well, unfortunately the travel options are rather limited here. The nearest train station is
miles away, the one bus that comes through the village takes the scenic route into the city and the
nearest taxi is three villages away.”

“Oh, I see.”

“Mm,” muttered Mr Granger. “Still, so long as she’s happy, that’s the main thing.”

Harry grinned at him before carrying on rolling.

“It wasn’t your idea to move then?”

“Actually, it was,” Mr Granger admitted. “All I said was that with Hermione away we didn’t need
such a big house. I was only having my usual spring cleaning moan, but this time something clicked
and she was off house hunting.”

Harry snorted, rather admiring that Mr Granger helped out with the housework.

“I must admit I was rather settled at our old place. My protests were totally ignored, of
course. Mind you, the village pub does do rather nice meals and the takeaway in the next village
isn’t too bad.”

“I didn’t notice many shops when we drove through the village,” agreed Harry.

“No, we don’t even have a Sub Post Office,” said Mr Granger. “Still, that supermarket is only
ten minutes away be car.”

“What kind of takeaway is it?”

“It does everything, all out of the same van.”

“Van?”

“Absolutely! Chinese, Indian and traditional fish and chips too. They tour around the villages
and it’s incredibly popular. To be honest, we only found it by chance the first weekend we were
here.”

“I’ve not tried much foreign food,” admitted Harry.

“Harry, Chinese and Indian cuisine isn’t foreign.”

“It is to the Dursleys!”

“Well, I suspect you may get to sample them quite a lot on this holiday. Mrs Granger certainly
isn’t going to be doing much cooking!”

*

Harry spent the rest of the day painting undercoat on woodwork around the house. Fortunately the
paintwork had already been prepared, so all Harry had to do was to keep painting.

Hermione, who was much more patient than Harry, spent most of her time painting the windows
having first carefully applied masking tape around each of the small glass panes.

When he had completed the second bedroom’s skirting, Harry stretched and groaned, having been
crawling around the room for some minutes.

“I think I’ll do the door next,” he said.

“Okay, but check what colour Mum wants first,” advised Hermione from her high stool. “I think
that door has a different colour on the corridor side.”

Harry went over to the schedule taped to the mirrored wardrobe door which was covered in
polythene to protect it from paint splashes.

“Yes, you’re right,” said Harry. “White the corridor side, but pale lilac this side. I wonder
what colour the skirting should have been in here?”

Hermione turned suddenly to see Harry grinning at her.

“Ha. Ha,” she said dryly but smiling.

Harry pushed the door until it was almost closed and went over to Hermione who had returned to
her painting.

He rested his chin gently on her shoulder and said, “That would be much quicker with a bigger
brush.”

“Yes, Harry, but I think Mum would prefer to have some glass that you can actually still see
through as opposed to just being painted over.”

Harry snorted and she turned to kiss him lightly on the cheek before continuing.

“So, are you going to tell me?”

“Tell you what, Harry?”

“Nothing important,” he said, still resting his head on her shoulder, but now leaning on the
back of her stool for support. “Only why, when our exams are only a few weeks away, you wanted to
come away and do some decorating?”

“You would rather be revising?”

“No,” he said honestly. “But I was a little concerned that you didn’t want too.”

Hermione didn’t answer right away.

“I suppose,” she said slowly, “that I’ve been a little preoccupied just lately. I was originally
planning on staying at school to revise, but Professor McGonagall suggested that taking a break
might help.”

Hermione spoke calmly and evenly, but her wavering brush betrayed how she was feeling.

Harry stood and reached out to gently take the small brush, placing it neatly on the tin lid. He
then held both her hands and said gently, “Tell me.”

Hermione twisted slightly and leaned forward to rest against him.

“The papers have been full of suspicious disappearances as well as all the people who have been
suffering sudden accidental deaths.”

“We knew this would happen.”

“Yes, but it doesn’t make it any easier.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“You’ve been working so hard on your defence training, though. You hardly have a moment for
yourself these days.”

“I’ll make more time for you, I promise.”

“That would be nice, but that’s not what I meant,” she said pulling away and looking up at him.
“I just feel I should be doing more; that all this schoolwork is really a waste of time. We should
all be learning to fight like you.”

Harry smiled sadly but shook his head no.

“Actually, I’m beginning to think the opposite. I’m more and more convinced that it will be
application and knowledge that will get us through this. Defensive training can only take you so
far. We know that Voldemort will do far worse in terms of offensive magic and cruelty than we can
ever defend ourselves against.”

“Everything seems to fall on your shoulders, though, Harry.”

“Hey, a few days of mind numbing boredom will do us wonders. Just you see. In a week’s time
you’ll be desperate to get back to your books and I’ll put the entire DA in the Hospital Wing next
time!”

“Harry, that sounds terrible,” said Hermione laughing. Harry had become a little frustrated at
the DA’s lack of progress a few weeks ago and had ended up giving more than a few members a lesson
they wouldn’t forget in a hurry.

Harry grinned and was about to answer back when the telephone rang downstairs.

“Did your Mum and Dad get back yet?”

Hermione dashed downstairs to answer the phone.

*

Harry, having cleaned out their brushes and resealed the paint cans, showered for dinner as
ordered while Hermione contacted her parents to advise them they would be having another guest for
dinner.

As Harry wiped the condensation from the bathroom mirror, he couldn’t help feeling a little
apprehensive.

Halfway through shaving, he decided to call Dumbledore.

“Professor Dumbledore?” he said into the mirror from within his makeshift bedroom.

After a short delay, Dumbledore answered.

“Yes, Harry? You appear to be a little steamed up.”

“Sorry, Sir,” he replied, wiping the mirror again. “We are having another guest for dinner.”

“Yes, Harry. I was expecting your call.”

“Is anything wrong?”

Dumbledore paused before answering, “Not wrong, exactly.”

“Do we have to come back to school?”

“You may decide that when you are made aware of the facts that are known to us,” the Headmaster
said with a small smile. “Harry, as it is almost six o’clock, may I suggest that you finish getting
ready for dinner, or is that the latest fashion?” he added with a subtle rub of his chin.

“Well, we are in the country, here,” Harry replied with a grin, going red.

*

By the time the doorbell rang at just after seven o’clock, Harry was almost ready. He heard Mrs
Granger open the door and greet their visitor.

Harry hurried downstairs and into the kitchen.

Hammond had placed the two bottles of wine he’d brought on the kitchen worktop and was just
shaking hands with Mr Granger.

“Hello, Harry,” he said warmly, extending his hand.

“Hi,” replied Harry, shaking his hand firmly.

Hammond was dressed casually today, but he always managed to carry himself with an airs of
authority.

“I wasn’t sure what we were having, so I brought both red and white,” he said to Mr Granger as
he put the white wine in the fridge to cool down. “I do apologise for inviting myself over like
this, I do hope I haven’t inconvenienced you too much.”

“Nonsense,” said Mrs Granger dismissively. “Come, let me show you around the rest of the
house.”

“If she hands you a brush, just run for it!” shouted Mr Granger after them before checking on
the dinner.

Harry smiled seeing the folded newspaper Hammond had brought in with him. The cryptic crossword
had been entirely completed.

*

At around ten o’clock they were sat around the kitchen table enjoying after dinner coffee and
finishing the wine.

“So, how are things coming along with the Circle?” asked Hammond. “Thanks for sending me your
latest newsletter, by the way.”

“Circle?” asked Hermione.

“Yes, dear,” said Mrs Granger.

“It was all your mother’s idea, actually,” said Mr Granger proudly.

“What was?”

“We’ve been forming a support group for non-magical families who have magical children and
relatives,” Mrs Granger explained. “We just wanted to keep them informed about what was going
on.”

“Mum, that’s a great idea!”

“Thank you, darling,” Mrs Granger replied smiling. “All we’ve done so far is translate some the
Ministry of Magic advice pamphlets and distribute descriptions of all the known Death Eaters. We’ve
also begun to put together a list of all the methods they might use to disguise themselves.”

“It’s not been easy to get off the ground,” added Mr Granger. “Professor Dumbledore insisted
that we not make the subjects of the newsletters too blatant.”

“Well, you wouldn’t want to provoke them,” said Hammond.

“So we’ve ended up pretending it’s an amateur literary group. That way we can say the news items
are actually story ideas.”

“Will that really fool them?” asked Harry seriously.

“Well, probably not. If Voldemort read a couple of them he’d know straight away, we suspect.
Dumbledore agreed though, that Voldemort is quite contemptuous of us Muggles, so he’s unlikely to
believe us a creditable threat.”

Harry turned to look at Hermione. She was being unusually quiet, perhaps wondering if this was
such a good idea after all. Harry discretely moved his hand under the tablecloth and gently placed
it on top of hers.

Mrs Granger stood to gather the last of the plates.

“Thank you, that was an excellent meal,” said Hammond appreciatively, “but I suppose I can’t put
off the real reason why I came here any longer.”

They looked at him expectantly and Mrs Granger promptly sat down again.

“A few days ago there was a police raid on Number Four Privet Drive.”

Harry just looked at him, feeling utterly stunned.

“Why?” asked Hermione.

“They were looking for someone. They had a warrant and everything. Unfortunately, the person
they were looking for wasn’t at home.”

Harry gulped.

“Your cousin made quite an exit. He jumped from an upstairs window and ran for it. He almost got
away too.”

“Why were they after Dudley?” Harry asked.

“They weren’t,” replied Hammond with a small smile. “The warrant was for one Harry Potter.”

“But why would a warrant be issued for Harry?” asked Mrs Granger.

“Harry was a suspect in a bank robbery.”

“No,” breathed Hermione.

“Is Harry still suspected?” asked Mr Granger. “If the warrant is still out for him we need to
get this cleared up as soon as possible.”

Mr Granger turned to Harry and said seriously, “It’ll be alright, Harry, but I think the best
thing would be for us to go voluntarily to the Police station. I can arrange for a solicitor
too.”

Harry turned back to Hammond and asked, “What do you think?”

“I think that would normally be excellent advice,” he replied. “Indeed, I would go with you
myself as well. In this instance, however, there is no need to do anything. The police are no
longer looking for you as part of their enquiries.”

Mrs Granger sighed with relief and said, “It was just a mistake then?” and Harry managed a weak
smile. He had recovered enough from the shock to feel rather grateful to Mr Granger for the support
he’d shown.

“I’m afraid not,” admitted Hammond. “The Order erased any records the investigating team had on
Harry and I took the evidence away with me.”

“Evidence?” asked Mr Granger.

“But Harry hasn’t robbed any banks,” said Hermione loudly. “Have you Harry?”

Harry managed to stutter, “N. No. Of course not.”

Hammond grinned and removed a clear polythene evidence bag from his pocket. He carefully placed
it in the middle of the table so the other four could see.

“We really were incredibly fortunate,” said Hammond before proceeding to explain how he came to
be in possession of the bag.

They sat in silence for a few moments after Hammond’s words, all looking down at the bag.

“Open it!” implored Mrs Granger.

Tentatively, Harry reached out and picked up the bag. He undid the seal and pulled out the
contents to get a better look.



5. No Graffiti?
---------------


**Bring the Rain**


by Jardyn39


**Chapter 5: No Graffiti?**


“Stolen?” the robed figure asked at last.


“Yes, your Eminence.”


“Impossible!”


“Improbable, perhaps, your Eminence, but not impossible.”


“Really? When was the last time Gringotts successfully broken into?”


“I do not know, my Lord. His Eminence will remember the items were not held at Gringotts,
though.”


“Not at Gringotts? Why ever not?”


“Forgive me for being so rude, but your Eminence will remember that he has not walked among the
living for some time. Ragnok would have been able to legally open your deposit vault.”


“Alright, Grublok, point taken.”


The goblin sighed with relief.


“So where was the item deposited?”


“In a Muggle bank, owned by private goblin financiers but administered by Muggles.”


The robed figure visibly sank in his throne. Grublok glanced sideways to the door and wondered
if it was too late to make a run for it.


“A Muggle bank?” he asked incredulously.


“A very profitable Muggle bank, your Eminence, and until a few days ago one with an impressive
record.”


“If it is a Muggle bank, there must be Muggle investigators. What have they found?”


“The police investigation hasn’t got very far. They were pursuing someone a few days ago but he
has been removed from their investigations.”


“He was eliminated?”


“No, my Lord, he was removed. He’s only a schoolboy.”


“If he wasn’t eliminated-”


“Actually, I do believe he would have been eliminated from their enquiries, anyway.”


“Grublok, in your haste to interrupt me, you have misunderstood me.”


“A thousand apologies, your Eminence!” grovelled the goblin, bowing again.


“What I was going to say,” continued the robed figure dangerously, “was, *if he wasn’t
eliminated, then I want him eliminated.* Kill him.”


“But, my Lord. We’ve spoken about this before,” pleaded Grublok.


“It’s alright. You don’t need to advertise the fact that I ordered him killed.”


“No, your Eminence! We’ve discussed Harry Potter before. We agreed that it would be prudent to
allow him to live for the present. After all, he was the one who almost vanquished Voldemort
before. It does seem likely he may yet eliminate Voldemort, when no one else appears to have the
remotest chance.”


“Yes, yes,” his Eminence agreed sounding quite weary. “But what on earth has Potter to do with
the theft of my-”


Grublok waited for the penny to drop.


“Are you seriously telling me that Harry Potter robbed my bank?”


“Well, we don’t know that. He was just sought in connection with their enquiries.”


“I’ve changed my mind, Grublok.”


“His Eminence is wise,” said the goblin, bowing low.


“I want him tortured first, then killed.”


Grublok groaned inwardly. It was going to be another long night.


*


Harry realised that there was actually another polythene bag inside the police evidence bag. He
pulled it out and found it was made from an unusually heavy plastic that was yellowing.


He opened the second unsealed bag and tipped out the contents.


A torn newspaper cutting caught his eye. He picked it up. It was the corner of a piece of
newspaper, and the date was clearly visible. It was a few days after his birthday.


“Oh, how sweet,” gushed Mrs Granger looking across at the fragment in Harry’s hand.


“You know what this is without seeing it close up?”


“Harry, look at the text,” advised Hammond with a smile. “It is less popular these days, but at
one time it was traditional to announce a birth in the Times newspaper.”


Sure enough, Harry found an entry that read, “POTTER, HARRY JAMES. To James and Lily, a son,
born 31st July.”


Harry shook his head.


“This can’t be right, though,” he said passing the cutting around. “My parents knew Voldemort
would be after me before I was born. There is no way they would announce my birth like this.”


“Even in a Muggle newspaper?”


“Actually, your parents might not have approved of this. Someone else could have done it,
perhaps maliciously or perhaps out of ignorance.”


Hermione was examining the entry carefully.


“What’s this symbol at the end of the entry?” she asked, handing the cutting to her father.


“I thought that was just a printer’s mark,” Mr Granger said. “We have a magnifying glass
somewhere but it’s probably in storage,” he added with frustration.


“Here,” said Hammond handing him a large circular magnifying glass from his pocket.


“Thanks Sherlock,” Mr Granger said with a smirk before looking closely at the paper as his wife
brought over an electric table lamp so they could see better by.


“It could be a symbol, I suppose, and none of the other entries have it. The print quality isn’t
great, though.”


“Didn’t you say that such announcements were placed in the London Times?” said Harry. “This
wasn’t placed in the Times, though, was it?”


“Well, no. But most local papers carry announcements like this.”


“Where did your parents live, Harry?”


“I don’t know,” Harry admitted, feeling a little ashamed.


“Dumbledore told me it was a place called Godric’s Hollow,” said Hammond. “I looked but I
couldn’t find it on the road atlas I have. It’s probably a small village.”


“The library would have information about the newspaper catchment area,” said Hermione
brightly.


“I doubt it, dear,” said Mr Granger. “It’s only a mobile one.”


“Actually, I was thinking about the one in the town.”


“Oh, I see. Yes that one probably would.”


“We can go tomorrow!” said Mrs Granger enthusiastically.


“Only if you absolutely promise not to buy any more paint,” said Mrs Granger dryly. “What else
have you got there, Harry?”


Harry reached down and turned over the item upon which was printed his name. It was a buff
coloured card, folded once.


The inside of the card contained a printed table of small rectangles, all completely blank. The
outside bore black printed text saying, “Name, Place of Birth, Date of Birth.” His name was the
only entry completed.


“I’m sure this was written with a quill,” observed Hermione. “Notice how the width of the
strokes varies with pressure.”


“But what is it?” asked Harry.


“I’ve no idea. Some kind of savings club?”


“No, dear,” said Mrs Granger warmly. “You had one just like it.”


“Really?” asked Hermione incredulously.


“Oh, yes. It’s an appointment card, I’m sure of it. Most of them have the name of the person to
whom the appointment is to be kept with, though.”


“Who would that be?”


“Possibly a doctor or a nurse,” she suggested. “Actually, I would bet it was for a midwife, as
it has Place of Birth.”


“We used to have something like this in the first hospital I worked for,” observed Mr Granger.
“It was an NHS hospital and just about every piece of stationery was like this, except I’m sure we
had the Hospital name printed on the front. Nowadays we just use business cards that have the
appointments written on the other side.”


“I wonder why it’s blank.”


“Maybe it isn’t!” said Hermione. “Perhaps the appointments were erased or concealed. If only we
were allowed to use our wands!” she finished with frustration.


Harry picked up the third item which was a colour photograph of a group of smiling young women
sitting with some very young children at their feet.


He quickly scanned the faces of the women but shook his head. There was no one he
recognised.


Harry was about to pass the photograph on when Hammond said quietly, “Look closer, Harry. Look
at the children.”


He looked again, but didn’t see anything remarkable. He guessed that two of the children were
siblings. One was just a baby with no significant features, and the other-.


“No!” cried Harry.


“I think it is,” said Hammond with a smile.


The Grangers lent in closer to see. The fourth child was pictured crawling towards the camera.
He had unruly jet black hair.


“You looked so cute!” said Mrs Granger.


“But, it can’t be me,” protested Harry. “My Mum wasn’t there.”


“Perhaps she took the photograph,” observed Hermione with a smile.


“That was my assumption, certainly,” agreed Hammond. “The others could well be family on your
mother’s side, Harry, but I think it much more likely that these were her friends.”


“But this is a Muggle photograph.”


“Perhaps these are friends she made before going to Hogwarts.”


“Or perhaps these are members of a mother and baby group. I used to take Hermione to one every
week, just for a coffee and a chat. We still exchange Christmas cards.”


Harry sighed deeply.


“Why would someone have kept these things?”


“Well,” said Hammond, “there are two obvious reasons that I can think of. Firstly, these could
be of sentimental value. Perhaps someone knew you as a baby and wanted some keepsake.”


“It’s true, Harry,” said Mrs Granger smiling. “I’ve kept all sorts of rubbish from when Hermione
was a child.”


“Except that whenever I suggest we might throw some of it out, they suddenly become the most
precious things we own!” added Mr Granger.


Harry smiled and looked back at Hammond.


“Secondly,” Hammond began but hesitated before continuing. “Well, you were something of a
celebrity as a child, weren’t you? Perhaps someone took these as an investment opportunity, hoping
that one day their value would increase.”


Harry blushed slightly.


“Either way,” said Hermione, “the person who took these originally was very close to Harry’s
family or acquired them from someone who was.”


“I think it was the former,” said Hammond. “These are too insignificant to pay for. I’ll bet
there are far more attractive Potter investments on the wizarding black market.”


“Peter, why on earth did the police go hunting for Harry on the strength of these items?” asked
Mr Granger shrewdly.


Harry looked up at Hammond, who was wearing a rather serious expression.


“Well, they were desperate to be seen to be doing something, I suspect.”


“Was that all?”


“Not entirely, no.”


Hammond reached into his briefcase and pulled out a small cardboard box file.


“This,” said Hammond, patting the box gently, “was logged in as evidence. Kingsley and Arthur
found it, fortunately, because I didn’t know anything about it. There was no mention of this being
recovered amongst the debris like those few items were. I think this was planted.”


Hammond lifted open the hinged top and pushed the open box towards Harry.


“Oh, Harry,” said Hermione seriously.


Harry looked into the box and couldn’t stop himself from laughing out loud.


“Harry, this is *serious*. It was found at the scene of a crime.”


Harry reached into the box and lifted out the Slinkhard book.


“I meant to throw this out at the beginning of the year, except I couldn’t find it.”


“When did you realise it was missing?”


“Not until September. I waited until I was back at school so I could use magic to destroy it
properly.”


“Harry, destroying books is not a good thing,” chided Mrs Granger.


“Actually, Mum, it is a rubbish book.”


“Harry, you’re missing the point,” said Hammond. “Someone took that book from you, didn’t
they?”


“I suppose they must have,” agreed Harry, opening the book.


On the inside of the front cover Harry had written his name.


“Harry, how come you haven’t written graffiti all over it, like you do with all your other text
books?” asked Hermione looking at the otherwise unmarked pages.


“Well, I didn’t like this one much. I suppose-” he said before stopping abruptly. “What’s
this?”


Harry had flicked through the pages and discovered the centre pages of the book cut out as if to
carry a concealed object.


“You didn’t cut those pages?” asked Hammond.


“No.”


“Do you recognise the outline? Could you guess what the object was?”


Harry stared at the outline. Whatever it was it was circular, for the most part, and about two
inches across. He shook his head.


“Take a look at the back pages,” suggested Hammond.


Harry did so and was astonished to find sketches and writing at the back of the book.


“What’s this?” he asked.


“That,” answered Hammond, “is a remarkably accurate plan of the bank vault. There are also
schedules of guard changes, vault use frequencies and that,” he said pointing at the page Harry had
opened, “is a circuit diagram of the security system.”


“But,” said Harry lamely.


There was a small *pop* from the hallway followed by, “Hello?”


Mr Granger got up and went back through the kitchen to investigate. He was soon back followed by
Kingsley Shacklebolt.


“I do apologise for Apparating directly into your home, but I didn’t want to risk being seen,”
he explained in his deep voice.


“That’s quite alright,” said Mrs Granger smiling.


“Ah, I see you’re examining our evidence.”


Harry suddenly had a sinking feeling. Had Kingsley come to arrest him?


“Harry,” said Hermione who was still examining the book, “this looks like your handwriting.”


Harry felt this was an unnecessary observation to voice, particularly in front of an Auror that
may have come to detain him.


“I didn’t write any of that stuff,” he retorted. “I have no idea what those circuit symbol
things are.”


“It is rather incriminating, though,” said Hammond.


“I had nothing to do with any robbery,” Harry said, a little louder than was necessary. “I was
at school the whole time.”


“The robbery took place some time between midnight on Tuesday and the early hours of
Wednesday.”


“I had Quidditch practice that evening.”


“Yes, that ended at around eight in the evening,” said Kingsley. “No one recalls seeing you
after.”


“I stayed out for a while,” said Harry, bristling that Kingsley had clearly checked up on him.
“I just felt like flying. I had some things on my mind, that’s all.”


Harry looked over to Hermione who was frowning slightly.


“I didn’t see you at all after dinner that evening,” she said quietly.


“I didn’t go anywhere,” he said with a hint of desperation. Hermione just had to believe
him.


“Of course you didn’t,” she agreed immediately. “I was just thinking how tired I thought you
looked the following day, that’s all. I remarked on how you looked, remember.”


“Yes, Hermione,” he agreed, closing his eyes, “you did.”


The living room clock chimed from within its packing case. It was eight o’clock. Time to check
in with Dumbledore.


*Dumbledore*!


Harry suddenly started, jumping to his feet and pointing his wand at an astonished looking
Kingsley.


“Harry, it’s okay,” Hammond said reassuringly. “We’re not going to arrest you.”


“It’s not okay!” shouted Harry, fumbling with his shirt pocket and tugging on a short heavy
chain.


Harry withdrew his Hunter watch, a gift to him from Hammond from when they first met.


“This watch has an anti Apparition charm. How did you Apparate so close?” he demanded.


“Harry, even Fudge was able to Apparate to within a few feet of the watch, wasn’t he?” said
Hammond gently.


“That was before Dumbledore enhanced it for me,” said Harry.


Hammond suddenly blanched and Hermione jumped up next to Harry, brandishing her own wand at
Kingsley. Mr and Mrs Granger looked on incredulously.


Kingsley slowly raised his empty hands and said carefully, “Harry, I’m not going to defend
myself in any way. Take my wand if you wish.”


Harry nodded and Hermione dashed forward to remove it from his pocket.


Harry relaxed a little when Hermione was back a safe distance away.


“I Apparated quite normally,” said Kingsley earnestly. “I did know about that watch, but to be
honest I forgot all about it. I didn’t feel anything at all.”


Harry reached into his shirt pocket with his spare hand and, without taking his eyes off
Shacklebolt, said, “Dumbledore?”


“Yes, Harry,” replied a familiar voice from directly behind them.


Harry and Hermione spun around. He was so surprised he almost dropped his mirror.


“My apologies,” said Dumbledore with a small bow. “I didn’t mean to surprise you.”


“I didn’t sense you that time, Sir,” gasped Harry.


“I’ve been practicing since the summer.”


Harry immediately turned back and asked seriously, “Is this Kingsley Shacklebolt, Sir?”


As Harry fought to control his breathing, Dumbledore considered his answer.


“He is,” he said simply.


“But my watch,” said Harry.


“Certainly, the watch I’m less certain of.”


“What?”


*


A few minutes later, they were all sat around the dining table with fresh drinks. Dumbledore had
kindly increased the size of the table as well as providing a few more chairs and Harry had
apologised to Kingsley who had, in turn, congratulated him on being so cautious.


Dumbledore was examining Hammond’s old Hunter watch with interest and Harry was looking on with
concern.


He had become very attached to the pocket watch, not because of its value, which was
considerable, but because it was a gift from Hammond, one intended to protect him.


“No,” said Dumbledore eventually, “I was mistaken.”


He looked up and explained.


“At first I believed that the charms placed upon the watch had failed. In order to increase the
anti Apparition range we removed the original charm and replaced it with a new one. Sometimes this
can produce unstable effects when the original charms are so old.”


He held the watch up by its chain and handed it to Hammond.


“I’m afraid, this isn’t entirely your watch. It is a partial duplicate.”


“It looks identical,” said Hammond, opening the golden outer case to observe the inside.


“I believe the watch is the same, but the chain and sovereign are different. Those were the
components we charmed to act as the anti-Apparition device. If you look closely, you will see that
the sovereign is actually a genuine replacement for the original fake coin. The chain looks very
similar though.”


Hermione opened the book again and pushed it towards Hammond who nodded and neatly dropped the
watch into the concealed opening. It fitted perfectly, except there was a space remaining for
something else to be concealed with the watch.


“What does all this mean?” asked Harry.


“It means we need to take a fresh look at all this,” said Hammond. “The good news is that,
although you didn’t need proof of your innocence, Harry, this book and watch together pretty much
puts you in the clear.”


“It does?”


“Of course it does, Harry,” said Hermione, as if this was obvious.


“I do wish I had a marker board,” Hammond mused as he gathered his thoughts.


“Draw on the walls,” suggested Mr Granger. “We’re going to paint them anyway,” he added in
response to his wife’s frown.


“May I?” asked Kingsley to Hermione’s parents.


They nodded at once and with a wide swish of his wand, Kingsley produced a row of three large
white marker boards, each complete with an assortment of pens and erasers. He had clearly been
paying attention to the boards in the evidence rooms.


“Thanks! That’s excellent!” said Hammond getting up as the others made themselves comfortable
again.


“Right, Harry’s watch was clearly transported in his text book. The book was last seen in
Harry’s possession in June?”


Harry shrugged but nodded.


“So, Harry do you think you brought the book home with you, or did it go missing before
then?”


“I honestly don’t know.”


“I gave you the watch in the summer and we know the complete watch was taken back to school
because Professor Dumbledore charmed the genuine article. Um,” paused Hammond, “when was it
enhanced?”


“I believe it was the second week of term,” answered Dumbledore, who had been sitting quietly
and enjoying watching Hammond at work.


“Good, that fits. Now, Harry, you wouldn’t have needed the watch while you were at school. Did
you wear the watch at all?”


“Um, no,” admitted Harry, “although I did take it out to clean it occasionally.”


“Who knew you had the watch?”


“I didn’t keep it a secret. I quite often cleaned it down in the common room, actually.”


“Did anyone take a particular interest?”


“No, not really. Neville remarked that his Uncle still preferred a pocket watch and a First Year
told me all about her Grandfather having a Hunter just like it.”


“She seemed knowledgeable about the watch?”


“Well, she certainly knew more than me. I got the impression it was a family heirloom.”


“What was her name, Harry?”


“I’m sure she had nothing to do with it,” said Harry resolutely. “She said her name was Julie.
Julie Graham.”


Hermione frowned and asked, “Harry, are you sure? I don’t remember Julie Graham, but I know all
of the First Years.”


Harry glanced over to Dumbledore who was looking suddenly very grave.


“I suppose I could have got her name wrong. She had dark hair with a single plat, like Parvati.
She had really striking blue eyes.”


“Harry,” said Dumbledore gently, “Julie Graham is not a First Year, but a girl of that name did
once attend Hogwarts. She was in the same year as your mother and father. You described her
perfectly.”


Mrs Granger grabbed the photograph they’d examined earlier and asked, “Harry, could this be
her?”


Harry looked closely at the young woman sitting and smiling in the photograph.


“Well, I suppose it’s possible,” he agreed before handing the photo to Dumbledore.


“She is older here than the last time I saw her,” Dumbledore admitted. “She left school early, I
recall.”


Hammond cleared his throat, having added her name to his board together with a few more
arrows.


“Let’s assume she had some motive to try to get the watch. Perhaps she took the watch from
Harry’s dormitory and took the opportunity to take the book as well. From the way that book is cut,
it looks like she intended to take the entire thing. Perhaps she became afraid you would miss it
and decided to only take that part she needed.”


“But, how did she even know I had it?”


“That, I can’t answer.”


“Perhaps I can,” said Dumbledore. “The watch casing has been charmed to act as a beacon. The
Order has known everywhere Harry has been while he wore it.”


Harry just rolled his eyes.


“I’m sorry, Harry,” said Dumbledore, “but perhaps she used the same method to trace the
watch.”


“So, she discovered the tracer and realised she couldn’t take the watch without advertising
where she and the watch had disappeared to.”


“Isn’t transfiguring precious metals very difficult, though, Professor?” asked Hermione.


“It is,” agreed Dumbledore. “She clearly has become considerably more skilful since she left
school.”


“Or had additional help,” added Hammond. “Is she known to the Ministry?”


“No, not that I’m aware of,” replied Kingsley. “I’ll check, though.”


“She attended school using her mother’s maiden name. Her father’s name was Edenhardt,” advised
Dumbledore.


“Now, that’s a name I haven’t heard in a while,” admitted Kingsley gently.


“Is there something in particular about the name Edenhardt we should know?” asked Hammond.


“Edenhardt is a rather notorious family name, mainly due to the activities of one of their
number,” said Kingsley. “He’s long dead, though.”


“He was Julie’s grandfather,” added Dumbledore. “Nobody knows what his motives were, but he had
quite a reputation for murder and torture. I don’t believe he was ever linked with other types of
crime though.”


“How sure are we, that he’s dead?” asked Hammond, voicing Harry’s thought to himself.


“I’ll pull the files,” promised Kingsley. “All that was years ago, though. Way before my
time.”


“Good,” said Hammond, “that might reveal the motive for this Julie to want Harry’s watch chain.
Now, is there anything you can tell us about the chain and that fake coin? I thought it was just a
heavy gold chain. I didn’t notice at all that the sovereign was faked.”


“It was rather subtle, but the usual gold sovereign depicts George and the dragon. Harry’s coin
showed St. George but I didn’t think it was a dragon he was fighting.”


Harry frowned, trying to remember the coin. He shook his head in frustration.


“What about the other face?” asked Hermione. “What was the date of the coin?”


“I just can’t remember,” he admitted. “It’s stupid. I spent ages cleaning it but I hardly took
any notice.”


The living room clock chimed once again. It was now late into the evening and Harry rubbed his
eyes with tiredness.


“I suggest we call it a day and reconvene tomorrow evening,” suggested Hammond. “I want to check
those Ministry records. Kingsley, is there any way I can take a copy of these white board
notes?”


“You can keep the boards,” said Kingsley with a smile and with a wave of his wand the three
boards and stands were shrunk down to pocket size.


They all bid each other goodnight and soon Harry and the Grangers were left alone again.


“You know? I never really believed Hermione when she said things keep happening to you like
this,” said Mr Granger with a grin.


Harry snorted and smiled despite his growing feeling of unease.




6. The Library
--------------


**Bring the Rain**


by Jardyn39


**Chapter 6: The Library**


Harry smiled seeing the grin that grew on Hermione’s face as they entered the city’s main
reference library the next morning.


They had just visited the local newspaper to see if they had records of birth announcements but
had little success. There were no records of people who had placed the announcements but they had
managed to locate a microfiche copy of the edition that had contained Harry’s entry.


Harry had no idea why, but Hermione wanted to pay for another copy, not only of the other
announcements that edition, but also the article that appeared on the other side of the page. He
rather assumed that Hermione was just curious to read the full article rather than the excerpt they
had, but he didn’t think it was worth paying for a copy.


The main library was a very modern looking building set back on the high street that looked
quite out of place. It struck Harry that it was hardly an inviting place from the outside.


Inside, though, was much better.


After passing through a short corridor with walls adorned with posters, they entered the library
proper. The spacious room was two storeys high and had an atrium level all around. High windows
gave the room a bright, airy feel.


Hermione went straight over to the librarian and waited patiently to be seen.


After a short whispered conversation, Hermione thanked the librarian and led Harry upstairs.


“Harry, this section has the geographic entries,” Hermione said when they arrived at the atrium.
“Would you like to look up Godric’s Hollow while I see what I can find on numismatics?”


“Numis-*what*?”


“Numismatics, Harry,” said Hermione with exasperation. “Numismatics is the science of money and
coins.”


“Oh, er, okay.”


They dropped their things at a table and went their separate ways looking for some useful
looking books.


Harry found a likely looking book with a series of detailed local maps of towns and villages in
the county. He was about to return to their table when another larger book caught his eye which he
took back as well.


Hermione returned with a dozen or so books.


“Isn’t that a little old?” she said, looking at the book Harry had brought back.


“Yes, but I wondered if Godric’s Hollow actually exists now. My parent’s house was destroyed,
and I’ve no idea how big the village was.”


“Good point,” said Hermione leafing through her first book.


*


Harry quickly discounted both the books he’d selected and returned to look for some more. When
he returned he found Hermione chatting to a young man dressed entirely in black. Harry noticed he
was wearing a cleric’s collar.


“I was just apologising to your friend,” he said to Harry. “We organise readings and colouring
sessions for the children during the holidays. It’s the only time I’m allowed to make any noise in
here, but it does help to stimulate interest if there’s a little excitement!”


Harry smiled and nodded, hearing some young children chatting and laughing downstairs.


“I understand you’re looking for a small village?”


Again, Harry nodded.


“I’d recommend looking through the Ordnance Survey maps. The library has a full set for the
county here, including all the rural areas. Where are you looking for, may I ask?”


“Godric’s Hollow,” said Harry.


The young man frowned and said, “No, that’s not familiar. There was a Saint Goderic, but he was
associated with London, not here. He walked to Rome carrying his barefoot mother and later became a
hermit.”


Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise.


“And they said my Medieval History studies wouldn’t come in handy,” quipped the young man.
“Well, I must be off,” he said before nodding his goodbye to Harry and then Hermione.


Harry sat and said quietly, “Probably not our Godric, then.”


The sounds of the children having a competition to see who could shout loudest reached them and
Harry and Hermione exchanged a grin.


Harry was about to ask whether Hermione thought Madam Pince would approve of a shouting
competition, when she slid a small book over to him.


Curious, Harry tilted his head to look at the open book which had a series of black and white
photographs of coins.


“Hey, that’s it,” said Harry pulling his watch out of his pocket.


The coin on the chain was much smaller than the photograph copies, but they could clearly see
they were identical.


“Unfortunately, the George and the dragon design has been the same one since 1816,” said
Hermione. “The original was by an engraver called Benedetto Pistrucci, and they’ve hardly ever
changed it.”


Harry stared at the photograph, casting his mind back. Saint George and his horse were exactly
the same, he was sure, just as Dumbledore had said. What had George been fighting, though?


*


Harry and Hermione decided to eat lunch in the park after buying some sandwiches in a nearby
delicatessen.


“Harry, don’t you think it was rather strange that Julie should have told you her real name?”
asked Hermione as they sat down on a park bench.


“Well, obviously she wanted us to know who she was.”


“Do you think she could have lied about her name?”


“Yes, but somehow I don’t think she did. I think she wanted me to know who she was. Maybe she
expects us to track her down or perhaps she just wanted me to know who framed me.”


“Could you manage my other sandwich, Harry?” asked Hermione as Harry screwed up his empty paper
bag.


“You’ve hardly had any,” he complained.


“I’m fine.”


“We’ll have half each then,” compromised Harry, realising he wouldn’t win an argument.


“Okay,” said Hermione smiling, and delicately tore the sandwich in two.


Harry took the empty bag, screwed it up and turned to throw it into the waste paper bin next to
their bench. He had almost missed with his last throw, and he thought he should aim this time.


Just as he turned, the shadow of the ornate wrought iron back rest caught his eye.


He suddenly remembered.


“That was it!”


“What, Harry?”


“I’ve just remembered what St. George was fighting. That shadow reminded me!”


“Well? What was it?” she asked impatiently.


“It was a coiled snake. A big one.”


Harry was sure he saw Hermione shudder at these words.


“Hey,” he said gently, placing his free hand over hers. “It was only a coin design.”


*


They were walking back to the library through an arcade full of small, exclusive looking shops
that each sold expensive luxury gift items when Harry noticed a jewellery shop with a small
collection of coins on display.


He led Hermione over to look in the window.


“Let’s go in and ask,” suggested Harry.


“No, Harry!” whispered Hermione. “We’re hardly dressed to go in any of these shops. Besides, we
can’t afford anything here.”


“We’re not buying today, Hermione. I just want to ask about the coin we have.”


“No, but don’t you think that the shopkeeper will wonder where we got a watch worth so
much?”


“They’ll think we stole it?”


“I would. Do you really want to attract the interest of the police so soon again?”


Harry considered Hermione’s words seriously for a moment before reaching for the door, saying
with a grin, “No, you look too honest, Hermione.”


Hermione whispered, “Reckless,” as she leaned past him to press the buzzer to request
admission.


“Thanks, I wondered why the door wouldn’t open. Anyway, we have to go in after spending so much
time in their doorway!”


The electronic latch buzzed and Harry pushed open the door.


The shop inside was very small. Glass cabinets surrounded them on three sides and the walls were
packed with clocks and assorted display items.


“Good afternoon,” said the shopkeeper. Harry was pleased to see he was a kindly looking
gentleman wearing a green overall with his shirt shelves held up by armbands. Both he and the
overalls looked a little frayed.


“Hi,” they both replied.


“I was just admiring the coins you have in the window,” said Harry. “I was going to ask if you
had any more but I can see you have,” he added with a smile and indicating the collection in one of
the display cabinets.


The shopkeeper smiled and gave a short bow.


Harry withdrew his watch from his pocket and the demeanour of the shopkeeper changed
immediately.


“I’m really not interested,” he said seriously and holding his hands up. It could not have been
clearer that Hermione’s suspicions had bee entirely correct.


“I’m not selling,” said Harry with a smile. “This watch was a gift. Unfortunately the original
sovereign was replaced and I was wondering if it was possible to obtain one that was closer to the
original.”


The shopkeeper eyed him suspiciously for a moment. Harry just shrugged and was about to pocket
his watch again when the shopkeeper appeared to relent.


“May I see that watch?” he asked.


Harry handed him the watch. The shopkeeper examined the watch closely with a jeweller’s eyepiece
that he took from the felt pad lying on the top of the display cabinet.


“This is a fine piece,” he observed. “I would recommend that you have the mechanism cleaned
professionally, though.”


He moved his attention to the gold sovereign and chain.


“This chain isn’t hallmarked, although I can tell it is of a very high quality. Curious about
the coin.”


“Excuse me, but what is curious?” asked Harry.


“Here,” said the shopkeeper handing Harry back the watch, “I’ll show you.”


He reached under the counter and pulled out a small plastic box through which Harry could
clearly see a gold coin.


“Do you see the highly polished surface?”


Harry nodded.


“Sovereigns are only produced these days for collectors. These coins are made to very high
standards and that includes this surface. At one time sovereigns were produced as currency, and
there was no need for the finish to be the same. It was the gold that was important.”


Harry frowned slightly.


“Un-circulated coins are certainly still collectable, but they don’t have the same attraction as
Proof coins.”


“I see,” said Harry.


“My point is, your sovereign was originally a Proof coin that has been aged artificially. Rather
a shame, really. Its value is now limited to the gold.”


“That doesn’t surprise me,” said Harry. “I think they just wanted something readily available.
The original coin had a slightly different design. It looked just like these except St George was
fighting a snake rather than a dragon.”


“Are you sure it was a genuine sovereign?”


“I didn’t know, but apparently it was a fake. Have you ever seen a design with a snake?”


“Not on a coin, no,” he admitted. “But by a strange coincidence, I do have a watch in for
cleaning that has a snake motif like the one you described.”


“May we see it?”


“Well,” said the shopkeeper hesitantly, “it does belong to a customer.”


Then he appeared to change his mind and quickly exited to fetch the watch. He was back almost at
once carrying a small felt pouch.


He carefully slipped a silver pocket watch out.


“Is that a Hunter, like mine?” Harry asked with interest.


“Yes, although a little older. The snake design is on the inside of the case, see?”


Harry and Hermione leaned in to see the watch held in the shopkeeper’s hands.


It was identical to the design on his missing coin.


“Who-” Hermione began to ask when Harry cut across her.


“How old is that watch casing?”


“Its hallmark indicates the casing is about seventy years old, although the mechanism and face
are considerably older.”


“Is that unusual?”


“Yes, but not unheard of. Some of these watches have a hard life.”


Harry nodded and became aware of Hermione’s unspoken impatience to get away.


“Well, thank you for your time,” said Harry. “I will take your advice and ask you to clean the
watch, but I shall need it for the next few days.”


“Just so you know,” said the shopkeeper with a small smile, “it is illegal to sell gold and
other precious metal items without a hallmark. That chain would easily pass the required standards
for workmanship but its gold content would need to be analysed before a hallmark could be
approved.”


*


They were out in the warm sunshine again before either of them spoke.


“I’m sorry I stopped you from asking who the owner was,” said Harry with a smile.


“It’s okay,” she replied taking his hand. “I should have thought before speaking.”


“I thought Kingsley and Mr Weasley might like to find out for us,” said Harry.


“That snake design was really rather creepy,” said Hermione. “I’m surprised you didn’t notice it
before.”


“Well, I quite like snakes, actually.”


“Even that basilisk?”


“Okay, the ones that are over fifty feet long aren’t my favourite,” he admitted.


Hermione snorted.


“You just need to be around them a bit. Maybe I could get you one for your birthday. There’s a
pet shop other there-”


“Don’t you dare!” warned Hermione, laughing. “Crookshanks might be upset.”


“You sure it’s only Crookshanks that would be upset?” Harry teased.


They spent the rest of the afternoon back in the library, fruitlessly looking through drawers
upon drawers of immaculately preserved large scale Ordnance Survey maps that Hermione had managed
to get them permission to view.


Late in the afternoon they gave up and, after thanking the librarian, left to meet Hermione’s
parents.


*


Harry picked up the callbox receiver and dialled the number from a small piece of parchment.


“Good evening,” said a cool clear female voice at the other end.


“Hi,” said Harry a little nervously. “I’d like to leave a message for Kingsley Shacklebolt,
please.”


“One moment, caller,” she replied. “Please hold.”


Harry heard a few clicks and peculiar whirling noises.


“Harry? You okay?”


Harry was rather taken aback by this greeting.


“Hello, Mr Weasley. Yes, it’s Harry. We’re fine, but I was hoping to speak to Kingsley
Shacklebolt. There’s a shop we’ve found that we’d like him to investigate.”


“Kingsley’s in a meeting,” said Mr Weasley. “Give me the details.”


“Okay,” said Harry, but then hesitated, wondering if he should wait to speak to Shacklebolt.


“It is okay, Harry,” reassured Mr Weasley, sounding like he was smiling. “Both Kingsley and
Dumbledore have stressed that I’m not to do anything unless Kingsley has approved it first.”


Harry laughed and told Mr Weasley everything about the shop and the second watch they’d seen
that afternoon.


“I’ve got all that,” confirmed Mr Weasley. “I’ll be along this evening for Peter Hammond’s
briefing at Hermione’s home. I’ll see you later.”


“Bye,” said Harry putting the phone down and leaving the call box he rejoined the Grangers who
were about to go into a restaurant for dinner.


*


Harry looked around at the extraordinary assortment of junk that was screwed to the walls for
suspended from the ceiling from steel wires.


“It’s not great, is it?” said Mrs Granger quietly with a smile.


“No, it’s fine,” protested Harry.


“It’s just that we thought we’d rather eat than go to the trouble of getting dressed up. We’ll
find somewhere better later in the holiday.”


Hermione and her father were examining the menu closely. Harry hoped they fancied a burger and
chips, since everything on the extensive and brightly coloured menu appeared to include both these
items.


“How was your day?” Harry asked.


“We found one thing, we’ll tell you later,” she added in an undertone, “but I ran into an old
school friend and we got chatting, so we didn’t get a lot done.”


Harry nodded.


“It was quite awkward, actually,” said Mrs Granger candidly. “I’d quite forgotten she’d moved
here after her third divorce. I spent the whole time trying not to admit we had moved up here.”


Harry snorted.


“Not close friends, then?”


“Well, we were at one time, but you grow apart, you know? Now, I feel we have hardly anything in
common.”


“We’ve almost decided that we’re going to have a burger,” announced Mr Granger with a grin.


*


The four of them got back to the car in the multi-storey car park after a most enjoyable meal.
They had been joking and laughing all the way from the restaurant.


On the drive back to the house, Harry joined in the happy conversation at first but as the town
roads quickly gave way to dark countryside, he looked out of the window and reflected on the
evening.


To Harry’s surprise, the burger meals had been not only excellent but also rather big. It took
them ages to work their way through them and none of them had room for a dessert.


Harry had enjoyed the evening far more than he could say. It wasn’t the meal, it was the
company. This was what a real family experienced together, and he was made to feel part of it.


The car was speeding along the well lit dual carriageway when they quickly drew towards a halt.
In front of them were two lines of red brake lights stretching far into the distance. Harry could
see blue and orange flashing lights far off into the distance.


Hermione and Mrs Granger were still engaged in conversation and didn’t notice Mr Granger
indicate and take the exit to the left.


“Not this one!” cried Mrs Granger as soon as she realised they were turning off the main
road.


“We’ll be stuck all night if we wait,” explained Mr Granger. “Taking the country lanes is a bit
farther but it’ll be much quicker this time of night, especially with that lot going on.”


“Yes, dear,” said Mrs Granger pointedly, “but have you noticed where we’re headed?”


The headlights shone on a road sign that announced a village they were about to pass
through.


“Oh,” said Mr Granger, pulling up.


Mrs Granger glowered at him.


“What do you want to do?” he asked. “The exit we came off at doesn’t have an access from this
way. I’m not even sure there is another way around. We can try, but it could be a few miles.”


Mrs Granger considered for a moment and Harry and Hermione exchanged quizzical looks.


“Let’s push on,” said Mrs Granger at last. “Lock all the doors and don’t stop for anything.
Here, you two,” she added looking behind to Harry and Hermione. “Get down and put our jackets over
you. Don’t look up or show yourselves. We’ll explain later, but it would be best if we get home as
quickly as possible.”


Hermione hesitated but shifted and lay down across the rear seat. Harry did the same, laying
behind her, although being taller he was a little uncomfortable with his legs cramped up
awkwardly.


Once Mrs Granger was satisfied that Harry and Hermione were adequately concealed, they sped
off.


Harry reached over and took hold of Hermione’s hand. She was shaking.


He had no idea how far they had travelled, but he had the feeling that Mr Granger wasn’t hanging
around.


Soon, Harry heard the familiar rumbling sound of their tyres on the brick pavior paving that
formed the courtyard outside their new home.


The moment the car stopped, Harry lifted the jackets and looked up to see Mr Granger hold out
his hand to his wife. She was visibly shaking, although quite silent.


Harry saw him mouth, “I’m sorry.”


Mrs Granger nodded shakily and opened the door. By the time Harry lifted off the jackets, she
had composed herself.




7. Lost
-------


**Bring the Rain**


by Jardyn39


**Chapter 7: Lost**


Once they were safely inside the house they discovered Dumbledore, Kingsley Shacklebolt and
Arthur Weasley waiting for them. They had been sitting in the dark as far as they could tell.


“I do apologise for us letting ourselves in,” began Dumbledore as Arthur insisted upon helping
Mrs Granger and Hermione made some hot drinks. “Is anything the matter?” he enquired gently of Mr
Granger.


Harry thought a rather guilty look passed across Mr Granger’s face before he replied, “I’m
afraid I took us on a detour this evening, on the way home. We hit the end of some traffic that was
at a standstill and I turned off without thinking.”


“Ah,” said Dumbledore as Mrs Granger carried a tray of assorted mugs into the living room where
Hammond’s restored whiteboards stood again. Harry noticed a good deal more writing had appeared on
them.


“Thank you,” said Harry as he took one of the mugs offered.


“Hammond will be back shortly,” explained Kingsley. “He’s gone to telephone from the
village.”


“He should have just called from here,” said Mr Granger.


“No, he said the call could be traced so he wanted to use a public call box.”


“Perhaps while we wait,” said Dumbledore, “you’d like to hear how Kingsley and Arthur got on
this evening.”


Kingsley took a quick sip of hot coffee and began.


“We waited until the shop was quiet after it closed and then Apparated directly inside.”


“Wasn’t it alarmed?” asked Mrs Granger.


“Well, we didn’t break any door and window contacts, so the only things we had to contend with
were movement detectors and pressure mats. If you freeze a movement detector it just stops working
until it thaws out again. We avoided stepping on any mats, so there were no problems.”


“There were security cameras in the shop as well,” added Hermione. “We saw them as well as a
monitor.”


“Yes, but none in the back rooms. We didn’t find the watch you saw but we did find a desk diary
with an entry that indicated the shopkeeper was due to return the watch this evening. His receipt
book gave us three possible names. Three people had their watches repaired or cleaned recently. One
gave an address abroad but the other two were for cash.”


“Did they leave any names?”


“Two Smiths and a Powell.”


“I see. Anything else?”


“Well, his desk diary was full of weird notes. Maybe he was a crossword nut or something, but
almost every day for the last week was full of crossed out notes.”


“Did any stand out?”


“We made a note of these,” said Arthur going up to a blank corner of one of the marker boards.
He wrote just five groups of three letter words.


“*sun sec neo mil foe*”


“Those were engraved on the watch!” cried Harry. “They were around the rim of the snake design,
I’m sure of it.”


“But what could they mean?” asked Hermione frowning and turning to Dumbledore, who was looking
intently at the words.


Harry watched Dumbledore’s lips form words. Then as a realisation appeared to dawn upon him,
Dumbledore grew perceptively graver.


Just as Harry was about to ask what it was, the doorbell rang.


*


Hammond sat down and gratefully accepted a cup of tea from Mrs Granger. He looked quite
exhausted.


“Well, the mystery deepens,” he announced. “I got an acquaintance in the local constabulary to
call the shop manager at home on the pretext that I’d seen a couple of suspicious character’s
taking an interest in the shop after it had closed.”


Kingsley and Arthur exchanged grins.


“Unfortunately his wife said he still hadn’t returned home. She said he had been due to deliver
an item that had been repaired. She had no idea what it was, nor who the customer was. At the time
they spoke he was only just overdue and didn’t want to make a fuss.”


“Might he be at risk? I mean, if he mentions us taking an interest in the watch?” asked Hermione
with concern.


“Well, he would have known that the watch wasn’t his to show off, so hopefully he’ll have the
good sense not to say anything,” said Kingsley.


“I believe it more likely that he’ll ask about the watch inscription,” said Dumbledore,
“especially if he’s been obsessing about its meaning.”


There was a sound of a muffled whistle that filled the room. Dumbledore reached into his robe
pocket and brought out a delicate silver instrument.


“Someone is trying to contact you, Peter,” he said to Hammond. “A message has been left with the
Ministry telephone answering service.”


“May I use your phone?” asked Hammond.


“Of course,” said Mrs Granger. “Use the hall extension.”


“Thanks.”


After he’d left, Dumbledore said seriously, “Harry, I think we should reconsider whether here is
the best place for you, right now.”


Harry had been expecting something like this to be said, and unfortunately this expectation
didn’t make the observation any more welcome.


At least Dumbledore hadn’t ordered him to leave.


“I’d like to know the truth about wherever we passed through this evening,” said Harry.


Dumbledore sighed but nodded.


“In truth, we do not know if there is indeed a risk to you associated with that village. Last
night we spoke of Julie Graham’s grandfather. He was the leader of a group of self styled fanatics,
the last of whom was believed to have perished many years ago.


“I cannot say what motivations nor what common ideals the group had, since the then Minister of
Magic ordered Edenhardt’s writings to be destroyed, lest some disciple decided to pick up the
mantle.


“I can confirm that Edenhardt dedicated his final years to torturing many of his own followers.
It was said he was driven by paranoia to suspect his flock was wavering in their beliefs. The
Ministry stepped in when the death toll became too great for them to ignore.


“At the time, the press and public feared that the group had been driven underground and had
re-formed as a secret society.”


Dumbledore’s eyes were drawn back to the circle of words on the marker board.


“Edenhardt himself evaded arrest for some time, I recall.”


At that moment Hammond returned to the living room. He sat down quickly to allow Dumbledore to
continue.


“The reason for my delay in telling you about the Granger’s kind invitation, Harry, was that a
village a few miles away was known to be the family home of a suspected Death Eater. By
coincidence, this family was also suspected of sympathising with Edenhardt.


“In the event, the Order searched the village thoroughly and found the principal suspects had
left, presumably to join Voldemort. I still felt it prudent to inform Hermione’s parents of our
concerns.”


Harry nodded and turned to give a small smile to Mr and Mrs Granger, who were sitting together
and holding hands.


“The thing is,” said Mr Granger, “the house you pointed out clearly wasn’t empty this evening.
It had lights in all the front windows.”


“Are you sure you got the house right, Mum? Dad was driving fairly quickly tonight.”


“Yes, dear,” she replied with a sad smile. “We’ve seen it many times. It’s a beautiful three
storey late Victorian building. It’s the most striking house in the village.”


“Moody has been posted in that village for a couple of weeks now,” said Dumbledore. “He only
reported activity this evening. It was all quiet before.”


Dumbledore fell silent for a moment.


“Professor,” asked Harry, “what was the name of the family who lived in the house?”


“Powell,” he replied simply.


“Um,” Harry continued, “Was there any known link between Edenhardt and Voldemort?”


“Quite the opposite,” said Dumbledore. “Voldemort has always craved the power to control people.
Edenhardt didn’t care about anyone outside his immediate circle.”


“So the watch we looked at today might just have been a keepsake or maybe the current owner
knows nothing about Edenhardt or anything,” suggested Harry hopefully.


“The watch is linked to that house, Harry,” said Dumbledore gently.


Harry nodded. No, he agreed, it could not be a coincidence.


“You said Edenhardt was into torturing his followers. Did they ever extend this activity outside
their circle?”


Dumbledore looked over to Kingsley, who said, “We looked through the records today. With one
notable exception, the Edenhardt group didn’t ever hurt anyone outside their group. Even three
captured Aurors were released unharmed except for having their memories modified.”


“What was the exception?” Hermione asked before Harry had the chance.


“Something was stolen from them once. This was before they were outlawed themselves, but they
tracked down the thieves and made an example of them.”


“Just great,” muttered Harry to himself.


“I was about to suggest that if they restricted themselves to torturing each other, there
shouldn’t be a problem. As it is, I suppose we must assume that Edenhardt’s followers had something
stored in the bank vault?”


“We can do better than just assume,” said Hammond. “Powell was one of the names of the deposit
box holder’s the bank manager tipped me off about.”


Harry’s shoulders sagged a little.


“The telephone message was from the jewellery store manager’s wife,” advised Hammond. “She
called to say that he had returned and was fine except he was behaving a little oddly. He was sort
of vacant and denied having any watches to clean.”


“Memory modification,” said Kingsley. “Well, at least he’s safe.”


Harry looked directly at Dumbledore who returned his determined look with a slight frown to
indicate he knew exactly what Harry was about to propose and didn’t approve one bit.


“What are the significance of those words?” asked Hammond, pointing to the circle of letters
that Arthur had copied out onto the marker board.


Before anyone could answer though, the doorbell rang again.


Mrs Granger went to answer the door as Kingsley waved his wand reducing the marker boards once
more. Dumbledore, Kingsley and Arthur stood and made ready to Apparate away if necessary.


Harry couldn’t hear the conversation that Mrs Granger was having, but he picked up that someone
was upset. Mr Granger left at once to join his wife.


*


Mr Granger opened the living room door and popped his head around it. He was looking grave.


“Harry, I could use a hand.”


Harry stood at once.


“The little girl from next door is missing,” he explained. “I said we’d search the garden and
the sheds. Hermione, you’d better check the house, top to bottom.”


Hermione nodded seriously.


“If we can’t find her we’ll join the search parties looking in the immediate fields.”


“Have the police been informed?” asked Hammond.


“I’m not sure. Her parents are quite fraught.”


“Leave the parents to me then,” he said confidently. Harry realised they were lucky he was
there. Not only would he know exactly what to do and who to contact, he also had enough experience
and tact to extract any information he needed from people who were bound to be upset.


There was a flash and instantly Kingsley and Arthur appeared wearing Muggle clothes.


“We’ll join the searchers in the field,” said Kingsley.


“Dumbledore, could you pop over to the Burrow and rouse everyone? Charlie’s home for Easter, but
Bill’s away. Send them all along, will you.”


Dumbledore bowed and Disapparated away silently just as Hammond pulled open the door fully.


*


Harry looked around as soon as he went out into the cool night. Every room in the house had its
lights blazing now. He could hear Hermione and her mother checking every room and every possible
hiding place.


He instinctively looked over to the neighbouring house and up to the window that he’d seen the
little girl spying on them from.


The lights in their home were all on too, as were the lights in all the houses.


Harry could hear distant hails as the villagers gathered out in the square.


Mr Granger appeared and handed him an electric torch.


“Good job we had these on charge,” he said as they walked over to the two sheds.


“Both these are locked, but we should check in them anyway,” Mr Granger said fumbling with the
keys.


“I’ll check around the back,” said Harry.


He walked around to the end farthest from the house and shone his torch down behind the back of
the old timber sheds. The gap was narrow, but a small child could easily get down there.


With some difficulty, Harry squeezed himself between the sheds and the thorn bushes that
protruded through the garden fence.


He scratched his bare arms several times but found he could crawl along fairly easily. He shone
the light under the sheds. The skirting was missing here, but there wasn’t room enough to hide
under the first shed.


He continued on and found, as he had suspected, that there was more room under the second,
larger shed.


He could hear Mr Granger shifting boxes of rubbish inside.


Harry shone the torch around under the final shed. His heart missed a beat when he thought he
saw a bundle of rags. He gingerly reached out, but found he’d been mistaken. It was just a dirty
polythene sheet.


Harry reversed his way out again and joined Mr Granger who was now looking under and around all
the bushes in the garden.


“Let’s join the others,” said Mr Granger. “It sounds like the others are gathering in the field
out the back.”


“Okay,” agreed Harry.


“Do you want to see to those scratches?” said Mr Granger seeing Harry’s arms.


“No, let’s just go.”


“Okay, I’ll tell the others. See you out front.”


Harry went around to the side gate and went through. He was just in time to see Mrs Granger and
Hermione take a distraught woman into her home. It looked like she had just finished speaking to
Hammond and the others. They were followed by several other women.


In the middle of the square, Hammond was giving orders to the assembled volunteers.


“Remember,” he was saying, “she may be hurt and unable to respond to hails. Look everywhere. If
you find anything suspicious, do not touch it. Just call for assistance.


“Finally, form a group and stay together for the entire search. Follow the directions of the
police with regards to where you search. You will find that more searchers will join us later and
there will be a greater police presence here shortly.


“Please remember, we are here to help them, not the other way around.”


Behind Hammond a marked patrol car was parked and two uniformed policemen were studying a map on
the bonnet.


They nodded to each other and came over to exchange a couple of words with Hammond.


Mr Granger came out of the house and locked the front door. They walked over together.


One of the policemen was giving the initial search instructions.


Harry realised that several of the volunteers had probably been drinking in the local pub.
Everyone looked sober and attentive, though, apart from two individuals who were sniggering and
swaying slightly.


Hammond walked over and said something inaudible to them that appeared to have a remarkably
sobering effect on them. Harry had never seen such a threatening look on Hammond’s face before.


Just then Harry felt a tap on his shoulder.


He turned to see a group of people grinning at him.


“Alright, Harry?” said Charlie, holding out his hand which he shook at once.


“Thanks for coming,” Harry said, “all of you.”


Harry shook hands with the twins, whom he hadn’t seen for ages. Behind them were Ron and
Neville.


Hermione had emerged from the neighbouring house to greet Ginny and Luna.


Harry quickly introduced Mr Granger to everybody before Hammond came over to them.


“Everybody ready?”


“Yes,” said Charlie. “Dumbledore gave us each a Muggle torch and whistle.”


“Excellent. We’ll look together as a group. We’ve got the far field at the back to begin with.
Watch your conversation until we get out into the fields. Sorry, but I decided my inebriated
friends over there should stick with me.”


*


As they hurried along out towards the fields, Harry could see flashing torchlights far off into
the distance and accompanied by distant hails.


“Good holiday, so far, Harry?” muttered Ron.


“Up to now, it’s been good,” replied Harry, noticing Neville position himself on Harry’s other
side.


“Thanks for coming, Neville. How did you know?”


“I, er,” was all that Neville managed to say.


Harry decided not to push for an answer.


They searched through the night until dawn. During the night, Harry managed to have snatched
conversations with most of the search party members, including the two drunks who were actually
quite affable once they’d sobered up a little. They particularly enjoyed telling tall tails to the
girls as they searched the hedgerows and amongst the growing crops that could so easily hide a
small child.


Harry learned that Dumbledore had sent Mrs Weasley on an errand and so she wanted to let their
nearest neighbour, the Lovegoods, know that they would be away. Luna had come over at once to
volunteer.


Harry still had no idea how Neville came to be there, although he was extremely grateful to him
for coming. He did notice, however, that things seemed to be a little strained between Neville and
Ron for some reason.


During the night they had met up with a couple of other search groups who had requested more
people to search some woods. Charlie, Fred, George and Mr Granger had joined them.


Just as it barely began to grow lighter on the horizon, they waited at a crossroads between two
narrow country roads while Hammond received further instructions from a patrol car. The two locals
were also busy talking to some friends from another group that had also convened at the
crossroads.


“Rumour is they’ve found her,” one whispered as they rejoined them.


Hammond came over as the patrol car sped off.


“No, she hasn’t been found yet,” he said. “We’ve been stood down so we can go and get some
breakfast and some rest. We’ll continue after a couple of hours rest.”


They all got up to follow Hammond who was thanking the two locals. They would be going back to
their cottages along a different route, but had promised to catch up with them later.


Hermione hung back to wait for Harry who was staring at a distinctive building in a village not
far off.


“We’ve come further than I thought,” he told her, nodding to indicate the village.


Hermione realised at once why the building had caught his eye. It was an elegant red brick three
storey building with a slate pitched roof and large windows.


“That must be the Powell house,” she said.


Harry looked over as the others trudged off down the road. Fortunately, they were moving off in
pairs well spaced apart. Harry felt there was a good chance he wouldn’t be missed for a while.


“No, Harry!” said Hermione, as if reading his mind.


“I just want to take a look,” he said. “Catch up with the others and make an excuse for me when
they notice I’m gone.”


“I’m not letting you go alone.”


“Well, come on then.”


He crossed the road, careful to note that none of the others were watching, jumped the ditch and
ducked through the hedgerow.


Harry turned to help Hermione to her feet as she came through behind him.


“It’ll be quicker if we cut straight across the field.”


“Okay. I wonder where Moody is hiding.”


Harry snorted and said, “I’d forgotten about him. Hey, has that bull got a wooden leg?”


“BULL?!”


Hermione swiped at him as soon as she saw Harry grinning at her.


*


The back of the house and the surrounding buildings were shrouded in darkness. None of the
lights were on and everything was quiet.


They crept around the side of the house and emerged on the road that passed through the village.
The scene was lit by a solitary lamp post. Although the sky was becoming gradually brighter, deep
shadows surrounded them.


The only other light was a dim bulb in a welcoming lantern on the house itself.


Harry stopped and listened.


Everything was quiet apart from some birds that were beginning to welcome the new day with
birdsong.


As they watched the hall light inside the building came on.


“If anything happens,” said Harry, reaching for the low garden gate, “just run for help. Got
your wand?” he asked with a smile.


“Of course I have.”


They entered the front garden and Hermione carefully closed the sprung gate, making sure they
made no sound.


The front door was a heavy black painted panelled door with an assortment of ironmongery that
included a lion’s head knocker and a lever handle that looked quite out of place.


Harry reached out and hammered the door knocker three times in quick succession. The noise it
made was considerably louder than he had expected.


They waited. He was about to try again, when the door opened and light flooded out into the
garden.


“Good morning,” said a middle aged man wearing a smart suit and tie. “I don’t wish to be rude,
but isn’t this a little early to be making calls?”


“I’m sorry,” said Harry. “You probably don’t know but a small girl went missing from the next
village. There have been volunteers out searching all night.”


The man opened the door wider, an obvious look of concern on his face.


“I had no idea,” he said leaning forward and allowing Harry to catch a glint of gold in the half
light. Harry decided to throw caution to the wind.


“Nice watch,” said Harry with a smile. The man immediately lifted his hand to cover the chain
extending from his waistcoat pocket. Harry continued knowing he had guessed correctly. “Mine used
to have a coin with a similar decoration.”


“I suppose you’d better come in.”


He led them through the spacious hallway into the warm kitchen.


“Is a girl really missing?” he asked.


“Yes, but the search hasn’t been extended out this far yet. I expect it will unless she’s found
soon, though.”


“What do you want?”


“Well, I think we should search the outhouses. Could she have got into the house?”


“We generally don’t bolt the back door until we go to bed.”


“Is there anyone else in the house that can help look while we look outside?”


“Yes, my wife should be down in a couple of minutes. Let’s have a drink. It’ll be easier to look
when the morning light gets a little brighter anyway.”


Harry nodded and withdrew his wand. Hermione did the same.


“Ah, I was right,” said the man, also taking out a wand. “At least tea will be quicker. Even
after all these years I still find tea bags a mystery.”


He waved his wand and a tray of four teas appeared on the kitchen table.


“Help yourselves,” he said. “My name is Giles Powell, by the way.”


Harry and Hermione both took a cup but waited for the man to drink himself before taking a
sip.


“I suppose you saw my watch when it was cleaned?”


“Yes,” admitted Harry.


“Mm,” mused Powell. “It was rather a risk having it cleaned, but I am rather fond of this
watch,” he said taking the watch out of his pocket.


“I inherited it from my father, along with this house. I know it’s rather sentimental, but I
couldn’t bare it if I lost it. The Ministry would destroy it at once if they knew it existed,
because of its, er, associations,” said Powell.


“You mentioned a coin with a similar design?”


“Yes,” said Harry, pulling out his own pocket watch. “That coin was stolen and replaced with a
real sovereign while I was at Hogwarts. The chain was also replaced.”


“The design is rather similar,” agreed Powell.


“To change the subject,” said Harry, “you had a deposit box broken into recently?”


“I don’t have a deposit box, and never have.”


“It was in the name of Powell.”


“I’m sorry, but it wasn’t mine.”


Harry couldn’t tell if he was lying or not.


“The person who took my things gave me her name. Perhaps you have heard of her? She gave her
name as Julie Graham. We later found out she was Edenhardt’s granddaughter.”


Powell just stared at him in utter shock.


“No, you must be mistaken,” he insisted as the kitchen door opened.


“What did you let them in for?” spat the woman, brandishing a wand at them.




8. Found
--------


**Bring the Rain**


by Jardyn39


**Chapter 8: Found**


“What have you done?” breathed Powell.


“I was trying to take our revenge,” she replied through gritted teeth.


“What?” asked Powell weakly. “But we agreed to put all that behind us, didn’t we?”


“Why do you want to take revenge against me?” asked Harry, recognising the woman as she stepped
into the light of the kitchen.


“I don’t,” she replied, her voice dripping with emotion. “You were merely an instrument.”


Harry had no idea what she was talking about.


“Shouldn’t our first priority be to find the missing girl?” said Hermione. “I suggest we all put
our wands away and begin looking.”


Hermione pocketed her wand and waited.


“Yes,” agreed Powell, lowering his wand and clearly trying to get a grip on the situation.
“Let’s make sure she isn’t here and then we can talk and sort all this out. There’s a girl missing
from a local village,” he explained.


“I know,” replied the woman.


“Oh. Was there something on the radio?” he asked.


“I found her last night.”


“What? Where is she?”


“I locked her in The Room.”


“No!” cried Powell in alarm, rushing past her. Harry and Hermione followed at once. From the
lobby they hurried down some steps into the damp smelling basement. Here, there was a narrow
corridor that lead to a single closed door.


All the way there they could hear Powell say, “No, she can’t have done. She just can’t,” over
and over again in a panicked voice.


The woman was following at an easy pace.


Powell tried to open the door. It was locked. He pointed his wand at the lock and said loudly,
“*Alohomora*!”


The door still would not open.


Powell turned back to the woman and pleaded, “Open it!”


Meanwhile, Hermione tried to open the door herself.


“*Alohomora*!” she cried.


The door frame glowed slightly this time with the strength of the spell, but the door still
refused to open.


“The room is protected. This is the only way in,” explained Powell. “Please, Julie, please let
her out,” he pleaded anxiously.


“I survived that room, didn’t I?” she retorted. “Stupid girl, coming wandering in here uninvited
spoiling my plans. Let’s leave them to get her out and go before-”


“She must be terrified, all alone in there,” Powell cut across her.


“Who said she was alone?”


That was the final straw for Harry.


He pointed his wand at the centre of the door and shouted, “*Reducto*!”


The emotion he was feeling was reflected in the power of the spell that erupted from the end of
his wand. The door simply exploded.


“*Lumos*,” said Harry and Hermione together as they rushed inside through the splintered
remains of the door frame.


The large square room had a stone floor and the bare brick walls were covered with an assortment
of sharp and lethal looking instruments. The only other feature was a dentist’s chair that had been
adapted with hand and angle restraints.


At first sight the room appeared to be empty, but Hermione rushed over to the far corner. There,
curled up in a ball, was the girl.


Harry hurried over after satisfying himself that the room was indeed empty. A circular iron
floor grating gave a dull bang as he trod on it. It banged again immediately after as it returned
to its original seating.


The small girl was incredibly dirty, and had obviously been crying. She continued to try and
hide her face, clearly terrified that some new harm was about to come to her.


“It’s alright,” said Hermione gently.


“We’ve come to get you out of here,” added Harry, trying to sound reassuring.


The girl appeared to recognise his voice and looked up at once. After a moment’s indecision, she
threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck.


“Let’s get you home, shall he?” he asked gently.


Crying freely now, she just nodded against him. Harry reached down, put his arm around her legs
and picked her up.


Hermione led the way out.


Before them, the woman appeared to be hurrying to make her escape. Harry heard hurried footsteps
climbing the stairs.


“Wait!” Powell was crying as he chased after her. “You can’t just go!”


Harry knew his priority had to be the girl at that point. He was just reassuring himself that
they would catch the woman again when it sounded like the front door was being blasted in.


Whatever happened was over by the time he got to the top of the basement steps.


Ginny made to rush forward as soon as she saw the girl in Harry’s arms but Neville pulled her
back saying, “Give Harry room to carry her outside.”


Harry hurried through and out into the cool morning air just as the patrol car skidded to a
halt, almost demolishing the garden fence. The WPC, who had opened her door before the vehicle had
stopped, rushed over.


“She was locked in overnight,” explained Harry, “but I don’t think anything else happened.”


“Hey, sweetie,” she said gently and checking visibly that the girl was physically unhurt. “Let’s
get you to your mum and dad, and then you can all go to the hospital together.”


She didn’t let go of Harry.


“Put her in the patrol car and we’ll take you both,” the policewoman suggested. “She’ll be fine
once she sees her mother.”


Harry carried the girl over and with some difficulty he manoeuvred them both onto the back
seat.


A blanket was immediately thrown over them both and the car sped off.


“It’ll be two minutes,” promised the driver. “Sorry about the blanket, but we spotted a
journalist earlier. They aren’t too distinguishing when it comes to taking and selling
photographs.”


“Tell me about it,” muttered Harry.


The car skidded to another halt, this time almost ending up on the Granger’s front lawn.


The girl released Harry as soon as she heard her mother’s voice. After an emotional reunion,
Harry was being rushed back to the house they’d found her in. It seemed safer travelling that fast
when he had a blanket over his head, thought Harry.


Thankfully, they didn’t encounter any oncoming traffic as they hurtled down the narrow county
lanes that were barely wide enough for one car. The dense hedges either side of the road were just
a blur.


They arrived to find Hammond and Mr Granger waiting outside for them.


Hammond leaned in to have a word with the two officers as soon as Harry got out and Kingsley
casually sidled up to the open passenger window, his wand held below the window cill.


The patrol car sped off again almost at once. Harry was a little surprised, but he presumed they
needed to tell all the other search parties the good news.


“Sorry about sneaking off like that,” said Harry sheepishly.


Hammond just rolled his eyes.


“Moody told us where you were.”


“Where is he?”


“Gone for a shower and a change of clothes. He’s been living as a tramp in that barn over
there,” he said pointing. The dilapidated barn looked disused, probably because it barely had a
roof and walls any more.


“Did the woman get away?”


“No, your friends are standing guard on them inside.”


“I’d like a word with her. I honestly think he had no idea the girl was here, though.”


“Hurry, will you? Kingsley has bought us a little time but they’ll soon be back and those two
will be taken in for questioning.”


*


“Now, where were we?” asked Harry lightly as he walked into the living room.


Powell immediately looked up and asked, “How is she?”


“I’m not sure, but hopefully she will be fine.”


“Nothing happened to her,” spat Graham, who was sitting next to him on a small settee in the
middle of the room. “She was just shut in for a while.”


Harry felt everyone around them in the room bristling with anger towards this woman.


“Being locked in a dark room for hours isn’t nothing,” said Harry evenly. “I speak from personal
experience.”


Graham looked up defiantly like she was about to call him a liar, but she caught Harry’s eye and
appeared to realise he was telling her the truth.


As Harry looked into her troubled eyes he realised she was no stranger to that room. He wondered
just what it was she had survived in there. He felt his anger dissipate a little.


“I assume you used Polyjuice potion to make yourself look younger?”


“Actually, no. I just used a temporary regressive draft.”


“But how did you get into the common room?”


“It was easy. I just attached myself to a group of First Years and looked lost. I just followed
them inside. That was the evening you showed me your watch. That was useful because I could only
trace it to within a few feet.”


“Why did you take my book?”


“I needed it to hide the watch in. I stole the watch the next day but as soon as I was about to
leave the common room I realised that a tracing charm was active. I’d seen that book in your trunk
and I had the idea that I could charm the book to shield the tracing effects. That didn’t work but
I kept the book in case you found the cut pages. After that I left and had a replacement chain and
pendant made up. I switched them two nights before the robbery.”


“Where is my watch chain?”


“In the desk,” she replied, nodding towards a scroll desk in the corner of the room. Ginny leapt
up and opened it. After searching through a few tiny drawers she turned and held up the chain.


“I assume its anti-Apparition properties prevented you from escaping?” said Harry, taking the
chain and pendant from Ginny who sat down again.


Graham nodded angrily.


“Why did you need it?”


“The coin. It’s a key.”


“A key to where?”


“The deposit box,” she answered miserably.


“What box?” asked Powell.


“My father had a deposit box, or rather, he controlled the box that was opened in your father’s
name, Giles.”


“Why on earth would you want the key?”


“To get into the box, obviously.”


“What did you find?”


“A booklet. Just a list of my Grandfather’s associates.”


Powell looked simply appalled and said, “Some of the people on that list would kill to ensure
that they remained unknown.”


“Why did you leave those things implicating me?” asked Harry.


“Well, they were all I had. Lily gave them to me.”


“I still don’t understand.”


“I opened the box whilst I was still in the vault. I knew they kept that box hidden from the
Ministry. Father always said they kept their greatest assets there. I should have known it wasn’t
gold. They were fanatics, after all. I kind of panicked when a saw the list. Those things were all
I could find at such short notice.”


“What made you panic?”


“The book was dated. It was just a year old. He’s still alive,” she added with a nervous look at
Powell.


“No,” he breathed.


She nodded tearfully back at him before looking up at Harry again.


“I knew you were the one who got rid of *You-Know-Who* when you were a baby. It seemed
obvious that if you could do that, you could get rid of *him* too.”


“Voldemort is back, in case you hadn’t noticed,” Harry said dryly.


“I’m more scared of *him*.”


“How was I supposed to even find Edenhardt?”


“Oh, no. He’ll find you. He’ll know that you did it, and he’ll come for you, just like he did
before.”


“But no one could think that I’d take such things with me on a bank robbery, would they?” he
asked more gently.


“I always carry them. Once I decided to use you, I just left them. I managed to plant the book
afterwards, just to make sure. It had one of your old essay drafts tucked inside so I could copy
your handwriting.”


“But why on earth did you carry those things around with you?” asked Harry.


“They were a reminder of the kindness Lily showed me,” she admitted. “She was one of the few
people to see past my eccentricities when we were at school. I didn’t find it easy to fit in. Abuse
victims have that problem, you see?”


“I’m beginning to. Where’s the list?”


She shook her head, but her eyes darted towards the desk for an instant.


Harry walked over and looked at the desk. A small black book caught his eye. He picked it up and
flicked through it. It was the list, although he was relieved to find that it contained relatively
few names.


The book’s pages were made from a heavy, high quality parchment. The inside fly sheet was
embossed with the knight and snake motif.


He held up the chain and rested the coin next to the embossed copy.


They looked identical.


Harry made to pocket the chain again when his fingers momentarily brushed the fake coin.


Instantly he felt the now familiar tug of a Portkey.




9. His Eminence
---------------


**Bring the Rain**


by Jardyn39


**Chapter 9: His Eminence**


Harry stood in the darkness, listening for any clue as to where he might be. There was nothing
but silence and the air smelled damp and stale.


“*Lumos*!” he whispered.


He appeared to be standing in a small, windowless cell. The only door was closed.


He pushed the door, but it would not open. It clanged dully against the metal frame. Indeed,
from the small amount of movement the door made, he wondered if it was locked at all. The door on
his side was completely flush, but Harry managed to pull the heavy metal door open inwards using
his fingertips.


The hinges were stiff and slightly rusted but he was thankful that the door opened almost
silently.


Harry peered cautiously down the long corridor before stepping out. At the far end one way a
wall was bathed in what looked like lantern light. Harry looked the other way. That was darker but
he began to hear distant footsteps approaching. It sounded like they were coming from the darker
end.


He hesitated, trying to decide whether to run or confront whoever was approaching.


He decided not to run. It was his intention to speak to Edenhardt anyway. It seemed likely that
was where he had been brought anyway.


Harry extinguished his wand and stepped out into the corridor.


He listened intently as the footsteps grew much closer. Gradually, he could see a flickering
light reflected off the stone walls. It looked like someone was carrying a lantern.


Harry raised his wand and waited in the darkness.


“Good day,” said the goblin.


Harry spun around. He had been expecting the person with the footsteps to approach from the
other direction entirely.


The goblin was smiling, clearly pleased with himself that his deception had worked so well.


“Um. Hi,” replied Harry, composing himself and lowering his wand. “I appear to have arrived here
by accident.”


“It was no mistake,” replied the goblin. “My name is Grublok. May I escort you to his
Eminence?”


“Sure,” said Harry, pocketing his wand. He realised that if the goblin intended him harm he had
given him plenty of opportunity to attack his back.


They walked up several flights of stone steps and out into a large hallway. An ornate staircase
led upstairs and a large circular rooflight gave the area a welcoming appearance. The walls were
adorned with Muggle portraits and landscapes.


Grublok walked over to a pair of doors and knocked lightly. Without waiting for a response, he
entered.


The goblin bowed deeply to the back of the chair in front of the blazing fireplace. The room was
incredibly warm.


“I have the honour to present Mister Harry Potter, your Eminence,” said the goblin before
leaving. Harry noticed him bowing again just before closing the doors behind him.


Harry looked back to see a frail looking figure rise out of the chair and hold out his hand.


Harry walked confidently over and shook his hand. The old man’s skin was like ice.


“I’m sorry that Grublok didn’t wait to introduce us properly,” he said with a smile. “My name is
Edenhardt. Please, take a seat. Perhaps you would do me the honour of your company for a few
minutes before you leave.”


Edenhardt sat down again, and Harry sat in a nearby chair.


“I’m sorry it’s so warm in here, I do feel the cold these days.”


Edenhardt smiled warmly and said, “As I expect you realise by now, the coin acts act a Portkey
when being touched by someone also touching an embossed emblem inside a certain booklet.”


Harry nodded and took out the booklet from his pocket.


“Professor Dumbledore recognised it as a Portkey when I first got my watch. He thought it was
dormant, though.”


“Dumbledore? I regret never meeting him. He has a reputation for being an excellent teacher.
Dear Julie thought the world of him.”


“May I ask what this membership list represents?”


“Oh, those names aren’t members. Those are just people that are still evading us. Look on the
second page.”


Harry did so. The top line read, “Powell, Giles.” The second line read, “Powell, Julie née
Edenhardt.”


A chill went through him, despite the heat.


“Grublok has begged me not to put your name in there all week.”


“Do so, if it makes you feel better,” said Harry, offering him the book.


“You aren’t afraid of me at all, are you?”


“No,” replied Harry honestly, “but these people are. What did they do to deserve this? She’s
obviously quite disturbed by her experiences with you people. Why not let them have a life?”


“Aren’t you angry with her for trying to implicate yourself?”


“I was, but right now I just pity them. They’ve both been living in fear all these years.”


“Indeed. It might have been more sensible to live somewhere less conspicuous, though, don’t you
think?”


“I think she wanted to take revenge. Staying there just increased the chances of them capturing
you there.”


“Very well, cross out their names and insert your own if you wish.”


Harry went over to the desk and wrote his name in the book. He hesitated before crossing out the
names.


“See?” he said holding up the book.


Edenhardt nodded with a quizzical expression. Harry tossed the book into the fire.


“But, you crossed out all the names.”


“I thought it would simplify things.”


“How kind.”


“So, how do you want to do this?”


“I’m not going to fight you, Mr Potter. Besides, could you really attack someone without any
magical ability?”


“You can’t perform magic?”


“No, I lost all my magic when I died.”


“I don’t understand.”


“My corpse was reanimated.”


Harry sighed and sat down again.


“I gave my word to Grublok that I would not hurt you, nor allow you to be harmed, while
Voldemort lives. I will not break my word.


“You have ensured that none of the names you crossed out are harmed, even those that are
currently supporters of Voldemort.”


“Some of them were really supporters?”


“Yes. I won’t tell them they are in the clear, if you don’t.”


Harry smiled.


“I also freely promise that none of your friends or family will suffer at my hand. I will also
promise not to harm you, even after Voldemort’s final defeat, but only in exchange for one
thing.”


“What is that?”


“The Ministry persecuted me while I was alive. The only version of myself and my actions, that
you think you know, comes from them. I’d just like to explain my actions and views from my
perspective. I don’t ask you to believe, just to listen.”


Harry considered this request and finally said, “I don’t need your promise, but I will
listen.”


Edenhardt’s ancient face broke into a smile.


*


Edenhardt stared into the fire, collecting his memories.


“In truth, I am guilty of many things. However I have been somewhat irked to have been falsely
accused of so much. Before those false accusations I honestly believe I never acted immorally nor
broke any just law.


“It all started many years ago, when a group of us came together to buy a modest area of land
where we proposed to live and work away from the magical community.


“I was a widower with two small children at the time, and I was very glad of the support I
received from my friends.


“I suppose I first came to the attention of the Ministry when they insisted that we had to
obtain their permission first. They said we were a potential risk and that the magical community
would be discovered.


“It seemed to us that all they wanted was a bribe to look the other way. My public comments did
not go down at all well with the Minister.


“Anyway, we set up our little commune in spite of the Ministry’s objections. For a few years
things went well. Unfortunately there was a new election and both main candidates decided to make
us their main campaigning issue.


“The most extraordinary stories filled the newspapers. They printed nothing but lies and rumours
and they were entirely deaf to my objections.


“When the elections were over, we were declared an illegal organisation. Everything I owned and
had worked so hard for was confiscated overnight.


“The thing that really made me angry, though, was the destruction of my published works. You
know, I no longer even possess a copy myself?


“These days, everybody thinks my works contained some diabolic message. In truth, although you
will never read it, they were merely some texts on setting up a community and advice on
planning.


“After that, things started to get out of control.”


Edenhardt’s look became harder.


“As we were thrust amongst people who lived outside the law, our attitudes began to change. We
introduced new members and, I must admit, our common aims changed. Personally, I wanted revenge
against the Ministry. Most of the others wanted personal gain.


“To my shame, I permitted this to happen. Worse, I encouraged us to exploit the fear with which
we were greeted.


“It was the Minister who coined the name *Eminence* for me. He promoted me as some leader
of a religious cult. I used it against him, though, and it gave me no end of pleasure to hear him
utter that name with his dying breath.


“Gradually, altogether too late, I came to realise the harm that was being done in my name. Our,
or rather, my reputation had gone from being entirely false to entirely true. I blame the Ministry
for that, but I now accept that I had a responsibility too.


“The end, for me, came after I discovered my own son had developed something of a taste for
cruelty. Poor, dear, Julie. What he did to her was quite unforgivable. He died at my hand.”


Edenhardt wiped his face with a shaky hand.


“Don’t repeat my mistakes, Harry,” he said using his first name for the first time. “It is
likely that you will be called upon or provoked into doing some terrible things in your future.
Don’t lose sight of what is really important, as I did.”


*


“Thank you, Harry Potter,” said Grublok as they stood together in the deserted chapel.


“I only listened to him.”


“I think that is what he’s been holding out for, all these years. Just the chance to tell his
side of the story. I am glad you met him on a better day. Just lately he’s been regressing back to
his old manic self.”


Harry pushed the heavy coffin into the opening.


Grublok flicked his fingers and the Edenhardt family crypt sealed itself again.


“He really is dead this time, isn’t he?”


“Oh, yes.”


They turned and walked slowly away. Harry realised that Dumbledore was sitting and waiting
patiently for him in the aisles. He must have traced him through his watch.


“His Eminence made a list of books you might like to have from his library,” said Grublok. “He
thought you would like the defence books and there is a rather fine set of warfare strategy books.
If you approve, I will send them to Hogwarts for you.”


“Thanks, I’d like that,” said Harry. “I’d also like to thank you for persuading Edenhardt not to
attack me.”


“It seemed the sensible course,” said Grublok with a smile. “You will defeat Voldemort, won’t
you?”


“You say the name?”


“Yes, I decided there was less to fear that way.”


“Well then, I’ll try not to disappoint you. What else did you get from the vault?”


The goblin looked at him with indignation before breaking into a sly grin.


“I merely provided a service,” he said evasively. “The gold barely covered my expenses.”


“Nothing in the other boxes, then?”


Grublok shrugged and Harry held out his hand with a smile.


“Good luck, Harry Potter.”


“You too,” Harry replied and he watched as the goblin walked out into the sunshine.


Dumbledore rose and came over to him.


“You had us all a little worried, for a while,” he admitted. “Clearly the trace charm can be
blocked. You only appeared to us when you came out of the house.”


Harry nodded.


“I think we should return to the others. They are bound to be worried.”


“Okay.”


“I believe you should Apparate, Harry. You’ve broken the *Decree for the Reasonable
Restriction of Underage Sorcery* enough times today for one more offence not to make a
difference.”


“I don’t want to lose this, though,” holding out his watch chain.


“Harry, that chain was charmed to prevent anyone else Apparating, not you.”


“Really? You didn’t say!”


“Well, I thought you might be tempted to try too early.”


Harry snorted and pocketed the chain.


“I’m not sure I’m ready, though. I couldn’t do it when we practised in class. I haven’t even
managed to do any of the preparation exercises.”


“That’s because you were distracted. It’s nothing serious; many young men have the same
problem.”


Harry blushed.


“Take you wand and hold it to your side. That will give you focus. Close your eyes and think
about where you want to go. Take your time, and permit me to talk you through the process.”


Harry thought of the Granger’s living room.


“Now, extend your mind.”


Harry felt himself rushing towards the Granger’s house. He was flying at hedge height across the
fields. After a couple of course corrections, he recognised the square.


“Now,” said Dumbledore, “enter the house. Things will appear hazy, because you aren’t close
enough to see yet. Walls, people and other solid things will feel harder to go through. In time,
you will recognise people you know well.”


Harry walked through the external wall and entered where the living room should be.


Everything was hazy and undefined, but he could tell when he had cleared the wall. Several
bundles of energy were dotted around the room. They were moving. One was pacing the room. He waited
for the centre of the room to become clear.


“Now, don’t worry about making a noise the first time. I woke the entire house on my first
attempt. When it is clear,” Dumbledore continued gently, “will your body to catch up with your
mind.”


*CRACK!*


Amongst the shouts and cries of surprise, Harry recognised Ginny’s loud scream and, louder
still, the sound of the living room window being blasted out.


Harry opened his eyes.


“Sorry,” he said rather sheepishly, looking around at everyone’s shocked expressions.


Harry noted with some concern that the door had flown open and the closed side of the large
glass patio door that was next in line from him had also been blown out. He wondered if *any*
windows had survived his arrival.


“Wow, Harry,” said George laughing. “You just have to show us how you do that!”


Dumbledore Apparated silently next to Harry, desperately trying not to laugh.


“You left before I warned you about arriving too quickly within an enclosed space.”


“I’m going to get you some L plates to wear,” said Mr Granger, still rather red in the face and
looking at the pattern his drink had made on the wall.


“Sorry about all the windows, Mr Granger.”


“We can repair them as soon as it gets dark enough for the neighbours not to notice,” promised
Dumbledore.


Mrs Granger came into the living room and hugged him, apparently unconcerned about the damage
he’d just caused.


“Hermione’s upstairs,” she whispered.


While the others inspected his damage, Harry hurried upstairs.


He knocked gently on her bedroom door and entered. Hermione was just stirring. He went over and
took hold of her hand.


“Harry!” she whispered in a strained voice. She looked like she had been crying for some
time.


“How are you?” he asked with concern.


“Never mind me,” she said pushing herself up, “Where have you been?”


“The Portkey only took me a few miles away, to Edenhardt.”


“You got away, though.”


“He’s dead, Hermione. Actually, he was dead before, but his corpse was reanimated. This time,
he’s really dead though.”


“Y- You killed him?”


“No, he just died. He may not have been the monster the Ministry made him out to be, Hermione.
He just wanted to tell me his side of the story. He didn’t ask me to believe him, just that I
shouldn’t loose sight of what is important, whatever I have to do in the future.”


Harry leaned in and kissed her, never in less doubt as to what was most important to him right
then.


“Hey, your window is still intact!”


“Why wouldn’t it be?”


“I blew most of the downstairs ones out, when I Apparated back.”


“You Apparated? But you’ve never been able to do it before!”


“Yes. Dumbledore thinks I may have been distracted in class,” he said grinning as Hermione
blushed. “You won’t be too offended if I go back to getting Ron or Neville to partner with me, will
you?”


“Of course I will!” she teased before saying, “I suppose I could let you, just for the one
class, though.”


From downstairs they heard more greetings. It sounded like Mrs Weasley had arrived.


“Gosh,” said Hermione, pushing Harry away. “I need to get up and help Dad with dinner.”


Harry moaned with obvious annoyance.


“Hey, you broke all the windows, remember,” said Hermione with a grin. “The least you can do is
give Mum an opportunity to show everyone around the house. How do I look?”


“Pink and pretty.”


“Thank you,” she said, kissing him on his cheek before hurrying towards the door.


They were at the top of the stairs when Hermione saw herself in the mirror in the open bathroom.
With a shriek, she dashed into the bathroom, cursing Harry for not telling her about the state of
her hair.


He continued downstairs.


*


“Hi, Ron,” said Harry, finding him alone in the dining room.


“Hi.”


“Where’s Luna?”


“She’s outside with her Dad. I think he’s after a story, so watch out.”


“Thanks, I will. Ron, why are things so strained between you and Neville?”


“Oh, it’s nothing, really. We kind of had words.”


“What about?”


“Me,” said Ginny, dragging a very reluctant Neville into the room.


“We’re going to sort this out,” she commanded. “Now!”


“I’ve tried to tell each of you individually, and neither of you listened or believed me. This
time you are both going to listen and neither of you is leaving this room until you do.”


“Do you want me to go?” asked Harry.


“No Harry, I’d like you to witness how stupid both of your friends have been. Go and sit next to
Ron, Neville.”


Neville sat and both of them looked away from each other.


“It was *my* fault,” began Ginny, addressing Harry who was the only one prepared to look at
her. “I was wrong. Ron asked me why Neville was hanging around with me so much and rather than
admit the truth to him I lied and led Ron to believe Neville was bothering me. All I intended to do
was give myself a little more time to consider my own feelings. I should have realised that Ron
wouldn’t have the sense or decency not to stick his nose in and warn Neville off.”


Harry nodded in understanding. That was exactly the kind of thing Ron would do.


“So,” continued Ginny, “when I finally realised I did like Neville, my idiot brother insisted
upon telling Neville that the only reason I wanted to go out with him was to spite *him*.
Honestly! What should I do with them both?”


“Well,” said Harry with a smile, “I’m not sure. I do think they should be rather glad you aren’t
allowed to perform magic during the holidays, though.”


Both Ron and Neville smiled at this.


“Still, they do still have a few days to make things up,” added Harry. “I’m sure you could
forgive them provided they forget their differences before the next term starts.”


Harry smiled at Ginny and left the room.


*


Out in the garden, Harry was greeted by Mrs Weasley while the others were putting up a marquee
on the lawn.


He had to chuckle at their antics.


“I say, you wouldn’t happen to have another eight foot tent pole in that shed, would you?” asked
Fred loudly.


“Hang on,” replied George loudly from within the smallest shed that was no more then four feet
wide, “I’ll look.”


There was then a great sound of scraping.


“Hey, I found one,” shouted Charlie, “it was hiding in the corner!”


Out they came with another impossibly long and unlikely item from the very small shed.


This continued for some time as lanterns, a dozen chairs, a giant table and two large beer kegs
all emerged from the tiny shed.


Harry just sat on the patio steps and enjoyed the show next to Luna and her father.


“Have you heard how the girl is?” asked Harry as Fred insisted they look for a different colour
jukebox.


“Your friend, the policeman, said they were keeping her in hospital overnight but that she’s
fine. Her parents are staying the night too. He mentioned that they often try to protect families
away from the paparazzi at the beginning.”


Mr Lovegood turned and appeared to be burning to ask Harry something.


“Have you seen Ron, Harry?”


“Yes, he’s inside being told off by Ginny.”


“Oh, I’d better go and rescue him again.”


She got up and entered the house. Mr Lovegood casually slid over to speak quietly to Harry.


“What do you know about Edenhardt, Mr Lovegood?”


“Very little,” he admitted. “By reputation he was an evil maniac with a predilection for torture
and murder.”


“That’s certainly the Ministry account. Unfortunately, they destroyed everything they could find
that was associated with him, so it is a little difficult to tell what version is the truth.”


“I’ll print what you think was the truth.”


“I’ve a better idea. Edenhardt told me his side of the story, but didn’t insist that I believe
him. I’d rather you published both accounts and let your readers decide.”


“That’s a great idea. I’m sure I could get a Ministry spokesperson to give an interview. It
would be better if the didn’t know about Edenhardt until we publish, though.”


“Nobody but us knows. A goblin knows I met with Edenhardt, but he’s unlikely to speak to the
Ministry.”


“Good. I’ll go and set up the interview now. Would you mind if I came back later this evening,
for your interview? It could be quite late.”


“No problem. Bring a camera and you can include a photo of the snake emblem.”


“Thanks, Harry. I will.”


*


To Harry’s surprise, Mr Lovegood was back in time for dinner. He appeared as they were all
seated ready to begin eating, and sat down to loud cheers from everybody.


“Did things not go to plan?” asked Harry.


“No. Even better,” Mr Lovegood replied with a smile. “The idiots handed me a bunch of their old
press statements, including an old interview with the Minister he gave when he was just a
Department Head. They said it was old news and that their position was unchanged. I’ll reproduce it
word for word opposite the new stuff.”


“Is that entirely fair?” asked Hermione.


“Is this a new campaign, Hermione?” asked Ron loudly from across the table. “I’m not joining the
*Society for the Protection of Useless Ministers*.”


“That’s a terrible name, Hermione,” said George.


“How about the *Betterment of Useless Ministers*?” suggested Fred.


“Better, but it needs to be ruder before I’d subscribe.”


This continued for some time, with everyone suggesting unsuitable names for Hermione’s new
society, until Mrs Weasley finally put a halt to any further suggestions.


Ages later, a more subdued group listened intently as Mr Lovegood conducted Harry’s interview
while they drank their after dinner coffee.


Harry related everything he could remember, including details of the original bank robbery and
the involvement of Powell and his wife.


Hammond interjected at that point and insisted that no one but Harry and Edenhardt be identified
in the article. There also mustn’t be any locations identified. He suggested that Julie Graham was
made out to be someone unrelated.


Harry asked what he thought would happen to the Powells. Hammond said he was sure that Powell
knew nothing and that she would be judged to have had diminished responsibility.


Hammond also explained that the girl had run off after an argument with her mother. She had
become disoriented in the fields and had sought shelter in the house.


Mr Lovegood consulted his notes.


“Harry, what did the watch inscription mean?”


“*sun sec neo mil foe*,” is an anagram of, “Eminence of Souls.”


Mr Lovegood wrote it down but looked up again.


“I don’t get it. What does that mean?”


“Edenhardt told me that the Minister gave him the name Eminence, because he was making him out
to be some religious zealot. Edenhardt told me that originally, eminence meant high status. It just
means high status of their souls.”


“Why did they use the snake emblem?”


“I asked him about that. Edenhardt said it actually belonged to a much older organisation that
revered and fought snakes. They adopted it.”


“How can you revere and fight something at the same time?”


“He said that was the whole point. In the beginning, the snake represented the Ministry.
Something evil to be fought by a righteous hand. Then the symbols were switched. They became the
snake fighting the Ministry by any means.”


Mr Lovegood shook his head.


“I really don’t know what to make of him. Parts of his story make me feel sympathetic, other
parts just make my skin crawl.”


“We’ll never know the truth now,” said Harry. “To be honest I don’t think he was that bothered
what people think. I was convinced that he regretted allowing himself to be consumed by hatred and
revenge. Of course, that was only after he’d disposed of almost everyone he wanted to.”


“Almost?”


“The list wasn’t a list of sympathisers, it was a list of proposed victims.”


“It was *that* book? Are they still at risk?”


“No, I crossed out all the names and destroyed the book.”


“He let you do that?”


“I asked to substitute my name for theirs. I wish I’d read the list first, though. Apparently,
there were a few Death Eaters in there too,” he added with a laugh.


To Harry’s surprise, no one appeared to share the joke.


“You actually wrote you name in the book?”


“Look, I wasn’t about to let innocent people fall victim to him and it seemed a good way to
bring things to a head. Then, I found out he couldn’t defend himself with magic, so my only option
was to listen to him.”




10. Socks
---------


**Bring the Rain**


by Jardyn39


**Chapter 10: Socks**


The “Extra” edition of the Quibbler arrived at dawn the next day just as Harry was making tea
for Mr Granger and himself.


He opened the rolled up magazine but didn’t open its pages. He placed it on the kitchen table
with the much enlarged photograph of the Knight and Serpent motif emblazed on the front.


Harry wondered what the reaction would be. Many people, like himself, would have no idea what it
represented.


Mr Granger came into the kitchen yawning widely.


“Morning,” said Harry with a smile.


“Mmmn,” replied Mr Granger, heading straight for his tea.


“That’s better,” he continued. “I said we were going to get some shelving materials, so we
should be in the clear for a couple of hours.”


“Oh, I told Hermione we were getting some more paint.”


Mr Granger looked at him uneasily for a moment, but then said, “Well, it’s not like we need
permission to go out, is it?”


“I think the side gate is still open,” suggested Harry as the sound of someone coming down the
stairs reached them.


“Good idea,” said Mr Granger, grabbing the car keys.


*


“Harry, this place looks expensive.”


Harry pressed the bell push on the side of the door go gain admittance to the jeweller’s shop.
The loud buzzer sounded and Harry pushed open the door once more.


“Good morning, Sirs,” said the manager.


“Hi,” said Harry. “I wonder if you could clean my pocket watch?”


“Of course, Sir. It will take a couple of weeks, I’m afraid.”


“That’s no problem. I’ll leave you a telephone number. I’d like you to leave a message when it’s
ready and Mr Granger here will pick it up for me.”


“As you wish, Sir. Is there anything else?”


“Um, yes. I’d like to look at those, please,” he said pointing down into one of the display
cases.


*


Their next port of call was the library. Hermione had mentioned she needed to return some books
that she hadn’t been able to resist on their last visit.


Harry found the librarian looking quizzically at a large timber crate in front of her desk.


“Is anything wrong?” asked Harry.


“I’m not sure. I found this box here when I opened up this morning. I’ve no idea how it got
here.”


There was an elaborate letter, “E,” branded onto the lid.


“Why don’t you open it?”


“It won’t open. Mrs Bandy should be in later. She usually has something useful in her
handbag.”


Harry put aside his vision of some old woman with a crowbar in her handbag, and lightly lifted
the lid. He felt Grublok’s sealing charm dissipate as his fingers touched the timber.


“I think I found the weak point,” said Harry casually.


He pulled open the lid fully and the three of them peered inside.


A large envelope was on top of some brown waterproof paper. Harry reached in. The envelope had
been sealed with a red wax seal, again with the same elaborate, “E.”


Harry handed the letter to the librarian with a smile.


“Should I?” she asked nervously.


“Definitely.”


She tore open the envelope and read quickly.


“It’s from a Mr Grublok. He’s a solicitor. A wealthy client of his died recently and asked for
part of his book collection to be donated anonymously to a worthy cause. Mr Grublok says we may
either have the books to keep or sell, although he recommends we auction them because some of them
are extremely rare. Goodness!”


Mr Granger guided the shocked woman to a seat as Harry reached into the crate and lifted out the
top volume.


Edenhardt had told him that these were the only things of value the Ministry hadn’t confiscated
and destroyed. They had no interest in Muggle artefacts.


The librarian’s eyes lit up as Harry gently placed the book before her. She knew at once what it
was.


“We’ll have to sell them,” she whispered. “There’s no way we could ever afford to insure
these.”


Mrs Bandy arrived and came over to enquire what was going on. Her heavy handbag chinked as she
placed it on the floor and Harry was utterly convinced she had an entire toolkit in there.


“We were hoping to return some books, but you probably don’t want these back now you got those!”
joked Mr Granger.


“Oh, I’m afraid we do!” said the librarian with a smile, getting up and returning to her
desk.


“Is there someone you can call about these books?” asked Mr Granger seriously. “They really
should be stored properly and securely. In fact, you really should have some security here before
too many people find out.”


“Gosh,” she said. “I suppose I should call someone.”


“Is there a secure store you could put the crate in for now?”


“Yes, but Mr Smith won’t be in until later, and I’m not sure I should let him carry that heavy
box what with his back.”


“We’ll carry the crate for you,” offered Mr Granger.


They picked then crate up just six inches from the floor when they were interrupted.


“Wait! Wait!” cried a voice from behind them. “We must have a picture of when it was found!”
exclaimed Mrs Bandy, pulling a camera from out of her handbag.


She then insisted that Harry, Mr Granger and the librarian pose beside the crate.


*


Harry groaned seeing the empty cardboard bin in front of him. How on earth could a superstore
the size of this run out of gift wrapping paper?


He looked along the row. There was plenty of the more expensive paper left, but that was quite a
bit more than he’d budgeted for.


He walked further along, hoping to find something cheaper. Unfortunately the paper got more
expensive, not less.


Harry looked around and spotted some children’s party things. Perhaps he could find something
there.


He went over and scanned the display. Party hats, candles, paper plates, balloons, noise makers,
bunting. *There*! Right at the end of the row were an assortment of paper gift bags. The
smallest one would do nicely, and it was only two pounds.


Harry picked one out feeling a little relieved. He had declined Mr Granger’s offer to loan him
some money and had begun to wonder if he had been a little rash.


He had spent quite a bit in the jewellers, and estimated that he would need around forty pounds
for that evening, he hoped. That left him the princely sum of four pounds, one of which had gone
into the bucket of the person standing outside collecting for charity.


Harry was on his way to the checkouts when he saw a giant sign suspended over the clothing
department. There was obviously a sale on.


He continued on for a few steps, and then decided to return the fancy gift bag. He retraced his
steps and soon found himself rummaging around in one of the three enormous baskets. Over his one
was a sign saying, “Sale: Socks £1/pair.” The next basket was actually better value, but he really
didn’t need three pairs, even if the price was only two pounds.


Laughing to himself as he picked out a pair with a lurid purple colour, he made for the
checkouts once more.


The supermarket had almost twenty checkouts, but only four were actually in operation. He looked
down the row and as there appeared to be a queue at the far end and he was right at the other end,
he made for the nearest.


Harry found that he converged with a young woman who appeared to have been making the same
calculation. Curiously, she was also clutching a pair of socks, although hers were of a more
tasteful colour.


He smiled and indicated for her to go in front.


She smiled back at him and nodded. As she placed her socks on the conveyor, she noticed that
Harry too was buying socks. She acknowledged this with another nod and a smile before studying the
shopper in front of them intently.


The two checkout assistants were sitting back to back as they scanned the goods. In the adjacent
isle, the conveyor was now stacked with six giant sized jars of mayonnaise, a dozen bottles of red
wine and a single roll of the expensive wrapping paper that Harry couldn’t afford. He vaguely
wondered what kind of evening the customer was planning for.


The customer in front of them paid for their groceries and they moved forward.


“Ah, soooks,” said the cashier with a heavy Scottish accent. “Soooks hav’ bin popular
t’day!”


The girl in front looked utterly perplexed. It took Harry a moment to realise what she was
saying as well. It wasn’t helped by the adjacent cashier echoing, “Sooks,” in an effort to get the
girl to understand. Her heavy northern accent wasn’t helping much.


The scanner beeped as the socks were read.


“Four Poonds, please.”


Harry started. *Four* pounds?


“Net,” the girl said. “Not correct,” she added in a clipped accept.


Rather unhelpfully, the two cashiers exchanged a few more rounds of, “Soooks,” and “Sooks,”
comments at that point.


“I do not understand,” she said when at last they’d finished. It sounded like a phrase she had
learned to say phonetically. Harry then realised that this was probably as strange to her as it was
to him. She had hardly spoken a word, but Harry realised somehow she probably had no or very little
English.


Mr Granger, who had obviously wondered what was holding Harry up, walked up on the other side of
the checkouts.


“Vone pound,” she said. “Basket socks vone pound.”


Harry was almost at the point of leaving the queue and going back for the gift bag. Indeed, the
two people behind him obviously decided that this was going to take a while to sort out and headed
for the other checkouts.


The cashier tied to explain, saying slowly and almost incomprehensively, “Some of the baskets
have got mixed up. Nay all of them are in the sale.”


The girl looked at her blankly.


“You have to have a yellow sticker, dear.”


Harry looked at his socks, and felt relief that by chance his selection had indeed got a yellow
sticker.


“Excuse me,” he said, interrupting. “Like this you mean?”


The girl looked around and realised that Harry was pointing to the sticker.


She let out a moan of frustration and moved out of the queue, turning to say, “*Spasibo*,”
to Harry as she passed.


When the chorus of, “Soooks and “Sooks,” died down, he paid for his socks.


Mr Granger managed to get a few paces away before bursting into laughter. Harry just rolled his
eyes.


“I was going to ask why you are buying socks instead of wrapping paper,” he managed to say
before adding, “but I really prefer not knowing.”


Harry threw his last pound coins into the collecting bucket as they passed.


*


They had driven almost the entire way home before Harry remembered that they hadn’t bought any
of the things they’d said they were going out to buy.


A hasty U turn later, they bought a set of shelf brackets and some roller heads at the local DIY
store.


As they entered the village the second time, Harry said, “Could you drop me here, please?”


“Sure, Harry,” said Mr Granger pulling up just outside the pub. “Bit early for a drink,
though?”


Harry snorted and said, “I want to try and book a table. I wanted to ask Hermione out to
dinner.”


“See you later, then.”


Harry shut the car door and walked into the lounge bar. Unfortunately, this bar was empty and
quiet. The only sign of activity was the steaming coffee machine.


He looked through the roped off archway that led to the dining area. It actually looked quite
welcoming, although again there was no sign of anyone.


He decided to walk around to the Public bar.


He walked inside and was immediately struck by the smell of stale beer. This bar was much
plainer than the lounge bar. In place of a carpet was a sticky linoleum floor.


Harry wasn’t entirely surprised to find the two jokers that Hammond had singled out propping up
the bar and telling some story to the landlady.


He went up to the bar and hoped to have a quiet word. This was quite impossible of course.


“Fancy a beer, Harry?”


“No thanks.”


“Ignore these two idiots,” she said. “What can I get you, my dear?”


“I was hoping I could book a table for dinner this evening.”


“Sorry, we don’t accept bookings unless there’s a party of seven or more,” she replied
firmly.


“We’ll come, Harry!” interrupted the other drinker.


“Tables are available on a first come, first serve basis.”


“I see. What time would I be sure of getting a table?”


“Eight’s good for us, Harry.”


“We open at six, dear,” she replied, rolling her eyes.


“Thank you,” said Harry, turning to leave.


He was rather glad to get back outside into the fresh air. He let the door close and walked back
slowly. He really wanted to book a table. That way they could be sure of not hanging around for
ages. Harry knew that as this was the only place in the village that did evening meals, it would be
very popular.


Harry was interrupted from his reverie by a shout from behind him.


He turned and was rather alarmed to see the landlady running towards him.


“Stop!”


“What’s the matter?”


She caught up with him and grabbed his shoulder; apparently to make sure he didn’t run off
before she caught her breath.


“Is it true, or are those idiots having me on?” she gasped.


“Sorry?”


“Is it true that you found that little girl?”


“Oh, that. Yes, two of us found her.”


“What time would you like your table for?”


*


Harry was quite relieved to get back to the house. It was still early, but it had felt like a
full day all ready.


He thanked Mrs Granger for letting him in and immediately went in search of Hermione.


Harry went upstairs and called, “Hermione?” on the top landing. His voice echoed around as there
was no carpet on the floor.


“In here, Harry.”


He pushed open her bedroom and found her sitting on her bed reading The Quibbler.


“Hi,” said. “Hermione, I was wondering if you’d like to-” he said before hesitating and saying,
“Hermione, is anything wrong?”


“I’ve been reading the articles about Edenhardt,” she said seriously.


“Oh, yes,” he said gently, going over and sitting on the small rug at her feet. “I imagine you
heard much the same thing during the interview with Mr Lovegood.”


“He’s published quite a bit more than just your interview, Harry.”


“The Ministry statements?”


“Well, yes. But I didn’t mean those.”


“What then?”


“Can I read you an extract from the editorial?”


“Sure, if you’d like.”


Hermione turned a few pages back and began to read aloud.


“*When I interviewed Mr Potter, I asked him how he thought we should portray Edenhardt to our
readers. He expressed the opinion that The Quibbler should not pre-judge Edenhardt and that the
reader should be given the opportunity to form their own opinion based upon the many and
conflicting views that are available. This, we trust, we have done*.”


Hermione paused and said, “Mr Lovegood refers to you as Mr Potter all the way through. It comes
across like he’s maintaining a professional detachment.”


Harry nodded and Hermione continued.


“*Whilst we have not commented on Edenhardt, we feel obliged to our readership to make an
observation about Mr Potter himself*.”


Harry felt his neck suddenly feel a little stiff. What on earth had Mr Lovegood said about
him?


“*I interviewed Mr Potter while he was surrounded by some of his closest friends as he
described the events of his rather long day, not all of which can be reported. He was relaxed and
candid. Perhaps, if he hadn’t been, he might have realised the shocked impact that some of his
words had on those around him*.


“*To say that Mr Potter made light of his encounter with Edenhardt is an understatement. His
description of how he struck a bargain with Edenhardt to substitute his name for all the others in
Edenhardt’s infamous book sent a chill around the gathered company that this reporter will remember
for a long time*.


“*Readers will recall that Mr Potter has long been known for his ability to survive in extreme
adverse conditions. Whilst we trust that Mr Potter’s luck and many strengths will carry him through
whatever should come his way, we cannot help but wonder if he is quite prepared to meet this new
adversary*.


“*However, if Mr Potter is unconcerned and believes that dismissing the legend will keep the
beast at bay, then this publication supports him entirely*.”


They sat in silence for a moment.


Then Harry cleared his throat and said, “Hermione, there are a couple of points there I’m going
to ask you to clarify for me. The thing is, though, I really need to ask you something much more
important.”


“Yes, Harry?”


“I, er, was hoping you’d come to dinner with me. Tonight.”


“Harry, I think this is serious.”


“So am I, Hermione. Please say you’ll come out with me. I’ve booked a table,” he added
hopefully.


Hermione’s serious expression relaxed into a smile and she said, “Thank you, Harry. Yes, I’d
love to go to dinner with you.”


Harry sighed with relief and got up to sit on the bed next to Hermione.


“Okay, so who’s this new adversary and what’s this beast of theirs?”


Hermione rolled her eyes and said, “I really think you should read the article.”




11. Gold
--------


**Bring the Rain**


by Jardyn39


**Chapter 11: Gold**


It had been Hermione and her mother’s turn to sneak out of the house later that day. Hermione
left Harry the copy of *The Quibbler* to read, but he preferred instead to continue
painting.


Harry made cheese sandwiches for himself and Mr Granger for lunch, but they had barely sat down
when the phone rang. One of Mr Granger’s private patients was pleading for some emergency treatment
and this soon left Harry alone in the house.


He inspected the paintwork again, but it still wasn’t dry enough for another coat yet. He didn’t
dare continue Hermione’s immaculate painting of the windows, so he found himself sitting at the
living room table looking at The Quibbler’s distinctive front page again.


He got up and went over to the window overlooking the square.


There was no sign of life at all. He looked to the side and could just make out the girl’s house
next door, the first along the adjacent side of the square. The house had been deserted ever since
the girl had been returned.


Harry hoped she was feeling better.


He vaguely wondered if The Quibbler had a crossword puzzle he could do to while away the time,
when he noticed that the Granger’s front lawn was a little overgrown. Remembering the electric
mower in one of their sheds, he decided to cut the grass.


*


Harry had just started to pack up the mover, when a car entered the square.


The front lawn was rather small and it had probably taken him longer to get the mower out of the
shed and find Mr Granger’s extension lead, than do the actual mowing. Still, Harry thought, at
least it had kept him busy for a while.


The car drew to a halt and the driver’s door opened.


A woman walked hurriedly from the car to the neighbouring front door. Harry straightened and
smiled, recognising her as the girl’s mother.


She shot him a nervous look and Harry realised she probably just wanted to get what she came for
and go without too much attention. He busied himself rewinding the orange lead around the mower,
but soon became aware that the woman was approaching him.


“Pardon me,” she said, “but I couldn’t be sure. You are the young man who brought Victoria back
to us, aren’t you?”


Harry smiled and said, “Yes, my friend and I found her.”


“Um, will you come in for a moment?” she asked uncertainly. Harry noticed the girl peeping
around from the back of her mother. He hadn’t noticed her at all before then.


“Sure.”


The small girl flew ahead of her mother as soon as she opened the front door. Harry followed
them into the neighbouring house. The layout was very similar to the Granger’s home, although they
didn’t have quite so many toys strewn over the floors.


“I just wanted to thank you properly,” she said placing her keys on the worktop and putting the
kettle on. “I must have seemed terribly rude, ignoring you like that.”


“Not at all,” he said gently.


“Well, please be sure to pass on our thanks to your friend as well. We were due to stay away for
the whole two weeks, but there are some things you just can’t do without.”


Harry nodded, and not seeing Victoria asked, “How is she?”


“Oh, a little nervous but otherwise fine,” she replied, opening the fridge and pulling a face.
“Oh, dear. No milk.”


Harry smiled and said, “I’m fine.”


“Would you mind watching Victoria why I collect some fresh clothes from upstairs?”


“Sure. Er, where is she?”


She pointed and Harry realised Victoria was under the kitchen table, barricaded behind some
chairs.


Harry walked over and sat on the tiled floor with his back to the kitchen base units.


“Hi,” he said gently. “That’s a good hiding place. I didn’t see you under there at all.”


They were quiet for a few moments. They could hear the girl’s mother padding around
upstairs.


“What’s *diminished responsibility*?”


“I’m not sure,” replied Harry. “I think it means that she didn’t know what she was doing,” he
added, thinking there was no point in pretending that there weren’t talking about Julie Powell. “I
think she was shut in that room when she was a little girl, only she wasn’t in there for just a few
hours. Some terrible things happened to her in that house. Hopefully, she can get some help
now.”


“How did you break the door in?”


“I probably just kicked it in.”


“No, you didn’t. I was watching and it just blew in, and there were loads of sparks around the
frame just before.”


Harry didn’t answer, but she persisted.


“How did you do it?”


“It’s a secret. I can only tell people who keep secrets.”


“I can keep secrets.”


Harry put on a sceptical look and Victoria crawled out from under the pine table to face
him.


“I can keep secrets,” she said again.


“I can see that. Alright, I’ll tell you, but only if you promise not to tell anyone, ever.”


“I promise,” she said expectantly.


Harry looked from side to side as if to make sure the coast was clear, and then leaned
forward.


“I’m a wizard,” he whispered.


He leaned back, waiting for the girl’s reaction.


She was giving that same appraising look she had given him the first time they had met.


Eventually she nodded and said, “Yes, I believe you are.”


Harry smiled at her as her mother returned with three large plastic bags full to bursting with
clothes.


“Right, this should do us,” she announced.


Harry got to his feet and then remembered something in his pocket.


“Um, would it be alright to give Victoria something?” asked Harry fumbling around in his jeans
pocket.


He brought out the small object to show her and she nodded with a surprised look on her
face.


Harry handed it to Victoria.


“Is this gold?”


“Yes. That is, or was, a sovereign. Sovereigns are made from 22 carat gold, and this one has
been made into a pendant. I’m sorry I can’t give you a necklace to go with it, but it would be a
little heavy to wear. Most people use half-sovereigns as jewellery,” Harry replied, repeating the
information the jewellery shop manger had told him.


She nodded.


“It isn’t just a pendant, though,” he said gently, and she looked up at once. “Think of it as a
good luck talisman. I have one too,” he added, pulling out his watch chain and fake sovereign which
he still carried for its anti Apparition properties.


“Is it magical?” she asked, and her mother snorted.


Harry smiled and said, “Who can say? I was lucky enough to find you when I was carrying it,
wasn’t I? I’m hoping it will continue to bring *you* luck as well.”


Victoria’s small fingers closed tightly around the coin, and she beamed at him.


“What do you say, young lady?”


“Thank you,” she said timidly before throwing herself at Harry and hugging him tightly.


*


Harry was sitting in the living room when Mrs Granger shouted, “Bye! Have a nice time!” before
being hurried out of the door. They had booked a table for themselves at a restaurant on the other
side of the city. Apparently, it had been a favourite of theirs while they were courting.


He looked again at the twenty pound notes that Mr Granger had insisted he take, “For
emergencies.”


Harry stuffed the notes into his pocket and watched as the Grangers drove off. The sound of the
living room door opening caused him to turn to see Hermione.


“Wow, Hermione. You look amazing,” he blurted out.


Hermione gave an embarrassed smile and smoothed the front of her black evening dress.


“Thank you, Harry. Shall we go?”


Harry checked his pockets for the umpteenth time and said, “Sure.”


They stepped out into the unseasonably warm evening air and Hermione looped her arm around
Harry’s as they walked across the square.


“I can’t believe how nice the weather has been,” said Hermione looking up into the darkening
sky.


“Yes,” agreed Harry. “I suppose Easter being later this year helps.”


They made their way along the winding access road, past a rusting gate that gave a clear view of
an ancient looking and overgrown tractor in a back garden, and up to the main road.


They turned the corner, stepping onto the pavement and walked along for a few yards until they
were opposite the brightly lit pub. Harry waited for two cars to pass before leading Hermione
across the road by her hand.


“I think the way in is through the Lounge Bar,” said Harry, not stopping at the Public Bar
entrance.


They walked along and Harry noticed that the hanging flower baskets were still dripping,
presumably having been watered earlier.


They got to the Lounge Bar entrance just as two familiar figures came out.


“Hi there, Harry!” shouted the first.


“Hermiminy!” said the other.


“Hello Jack. Hello Bill,” said Hermione, sounding amused.


“Shorry we’re not join’g you,” Bill managed to say.


“Yeah, only she’s banned us from this side again. We were just making sure she hadn’t changed
her mind since lunchtime. She hasn’t,” he added unnecessarily.


“Oh, that’s a shame,” replied Hermione, sounding genuine but wearing a grin. “Still, at least
you can get a drink in the Public Bar.”


“Drink!” echoed Bill with purpose.


Jack grabbed one polished brass handle to the door and pulled the leaf open for them. Bill
copied and on only his second attempt grabbed the other handle. They both bowed them inside.


“Thank you,” said Hermione, trying not to laugh as they passed through. “Perhaps we’ll see you
later.”


Inside, the bar was packed with people. There was a wall of drinkers standing in front of the
bar and it looked like all of the tables were occupied.


Hermione looked through the archway into the dining area.


“It looks very busy,” she said. “We might have to wait for a while.”


“Sorry,” said Harry, “I should have realised.”


“No, it’s fine,” said Hermione with a warm smile.


Harry was wondering about barging his way to the bar to get them drinks, when there was a roar
of cheers from behind the glass screen dividing the two bars. Clearly, Jack and Bill had arrived at
their destination.


“My Dears!”


They turned to see the landlady beaming at them as she came through the archway. She came
straight up to Hermione and kissed her before quickly moving onto Harry.


“Come on through,” she said warmly and beckoned them to follow.


They struggled to keep up with her as she weaved her way through the diners. She wasn’t exactly
a slim woman, and Harry marvelled how she squeezed through the narrow gaps between tables, chairs
and diners.


She led them along a narrow corridor and into a smaller additional dining area where there were
a couple of spare tables. Harry was expecting her to guide them to one of these tables, but she
kept going.


They passed the toilets, along another corridor and around a couple of bends. Harry was sure
they would come out where they started.


Finally, they arrived.


The room was small and quite cosy with a single small table in the centre set out with a placing
for two.


The landlady rapped on the small hatch which quickly opened inwards.


“Harry and his friend are here!”


“Ah!” said someone inside.


Almost immediately the adjacent door opened and out came a man in a chef’s uniform.


“Hi!” he said warmly, extending his hand to Harry. “My name is Geoff. I’m Maggie’s husband. I do
the cooking around here.”


Harry shook his hand, and said, “Hi. This is Hermione. I hope you didn’t go to too much trouble
for us.”


“Nonsense,” said Geoff as he shook Hermione’s hand and added, “Hermione? That’s a much prettier
name than the versions Bill and Jack tried to remember for us!”


Hermione laughed and said, “Thank you.”


“We met them on the way in,” said Harry with a grin.


“Yes, they said they were hoping you’d lift their ban,” added Hermione.


“Those two!” said Maggie. “I only agreed to lift their ban in the Public Bar for telling us a
little of what happened.”


“How is the little girl?”


“I think she’ll be fine,” said Harry. “I saw her and her mother earlier today.”


“Poor dear,” said Maggie with obvious feeling.


There was then some shouting from within the kitchen.


Geoff started and said, “I’m sorry, but I need to get on. Anything you need give me a knock.
I’ll speak to you again when it gets a little less mad!” before vanishing back into the
kitchen.


“Make yourselves comfortable,” said Maggie. “The menus are on the table. What can I get you to
drink?”


“Um, lemonade, please,” said Hermione.


“Same here,” added Harry. “Thank you.”


Maggie scribbled a note on her pad and hurried off.


“Um, Hermione?” whispered Harry. “I hope you don’t mind but we’re down to my last forty pounds
for this evening. Your Dad did make me take some money for emergencies, but I’d rather not use that
unless we really need to.”


Harry looked at her hoping she would understand.


Hermione smiled warmly and said, “That should be fine.”


Harry sighed with relief and said, “Thanks.”


“No, I’m glad you said. We don’t have to have a starter or a sweet if you’d rather?”


“Oh, no. I mean, yes, we should have a starter. Actually, from what your Dad said about the size
of the meals they serve here, we may not have room for afters!”


“Actually, Mum gave me some money for emergencies too, but I spent most of it this
afternoon.”


“Was this an emergency in a bookshop?” Harry asked with a smile.


“Well, yes,” Hermione replied with a slight blush.


Maggie returned with their drinks and said a waitress would be along shortly for their
order.


“Thank you,” they both managed to say before she rushed off again.


They perused the menus and a few minutes later a waitress came along to take their order of
starters and main course.


“So, Hermione. Would you like your sock now or later?” Harry asked with a grin just after she’d
gone.


“Did you say, sock, Harry?”


Harry nodded and handed her the short sock, saying, “Happy Valentines, Hermione.”


Hermione’s quizzical look changed at once as she laughed and took her gift.


“Yes, I suppose we do need to catch up,” she agreed.


“I really didn’t intend to spend that evening in the Hospital Wing, you know? I had everything
planned as well.”


“Even the socks?” she asked with a smile.


“Er, no, the socks were a recent idea.”


“Shouldn’t there be two?” Hermione asked, unrolling the material.


“I left the other one back at home. I didn’t think you’d want to wear them this evening.”


“There’s something in this one,” Hermione said absently, rolling the sock inside out so she
could reach the contents.


“Oh, Harry,” she breathed.


“I hope that was the one you were looking at.”


“You know it was. Thank you, this is lovely.”


“Put it on.”


“Help me?”


Harry got up and took the necklace. Hermione had her hair up, so all he had to contend with was
the delicate clasp.


“Alright?” he asked.


“Almost,” said Hermione.


Harry frowned slightly, wondering what he had got wrong. Hermione smiled and beckoned him down.
Harry bent expecting her to whisper a prompt to him, but instead he placed her hand on his shoulder
and kissed him chastely on the lips.


“Thank you, Harry,” she whispered. “You can sit down now,” she suggested with a wide smile.


Harry managed to get to his seat as their waitress appeared out of the kitchen door with their
starters.


*


“Why socks, Harry?” asked Hermione as they ate.


Harry snorted and told the tale of his little misadventure in the supermarket earlier in the
day.


“At least this way, I put a couple more pounds into the charity bucket,” he concluded.


“And I’ll have nice pair of socks,” agreed Hermione.


Harry laughed and said, “You don’t have to take them. I didn’t expect you to wear them.”


“Well, perhaps they aren’t really my colour, but I definitely still want my other sock. I shall
enjoy wearing them in private. I’ll wear them for you later, if you’d like.”


Rather too late, Harry realised he was blushing furiously.


“What ever is going through your mind, Harry? You looked quite absorbed for a moment there.”


“You are a terrible tease, Miss Granger.”


Hermione smiled wickedly at him and replied slowly, “All I said was-”


“*Hermione*,” pleaded Harry.


“Alright,” she relented, still smiling. “Tell me about Victoria. I didn’t think they would be
back before the end of the holidays.”


Harry took a moment to compose himself before answering.




12. Exclusive
-------------


**Bring the Rain**


by Jardyn39


**Chapter 12: Exclusive**


“I was cutting the front lawn when they arrived earlier,” continued Harry.


“Did the grass need cutting?”


“Not really, but it was either that or read *The Quibbler*.”


Hermione just rolled her eyes.


“They just popped back for a few things. I think they were hoping to get away again without
being noticed. She recognised me and asked me in. Oh, and she asked me to forward their thanks to
you too.”


Hermione smiled and nodded.


“I was a little worried about Victoria, though. She was very timid and I wondered how she was
coping, especially when her mother pointed out she was hiding under the kitchen table.”


Hermione lowered her fork to listen.


“But, I think she’s on the mend,” Harry added quickly. “When her mother went off to pack, I had
a chat with Victoria. She asked me what *diminished responsibility* was and I told her what I
thought had happened to Julie Powell.”


Harry smiled remembering and said, “Then she asked me how I opened the door. I tried to fob her
off but she described seeing flashes around the frame as well as the door disintegrating.”


“Whatever did you tell her?”


“Well, I asked if she could keep a secret.”


“You didn’t tell her?” asked Hermione incredulously.


“Yes, but she wasn’t the least bit surprised. Anyway, when her mother came back I asked if I
could give Victoria that sovereign as a gift. You know, the real one?”


“That was generous.”


“The first thing she asked was if it was really gold. Then she asked if it was magic.”


“What did you tell her?”


“Her mum was there, so I just said it gave me luck, because we found her with it, and maybe it
will bring her luck as well. Mind you, I showed her my fake sovereign too, so she’s probably
convinced it is magical.”


“Well, I think it was a nice gesture. Let’s hope she doesn’t tell anyone.”


Harry shrugged his shoulders.


“You really haven’t read *The Quibbler* yet?”


“No.”


“I think you should. I’m not saying the legend is real, but parts of it might be. If anything
happened, you might be better prepared.”


“Or just become paranoid?” he countered before adding gently, “Look, Edenhardt have me his word
that he wouldn’t allow any of my friends to be hurt. He also gave Grublok his word that he wouldn’t
attack me until I’ve finished with Voldemort.”


“But how much influence can he maintain now that he’s dead and buried?”


“Who needs to be influenced? There isn’t anyone associated with Edenhardt with a real motive to
harm me.”


“What about the thing in Mr Lovegood’s article? Or, maybe, Edenhardt’s surviving associates may
believe you could identify them.”


Harry thought. Hermione just might have a point there. The Powells were on the list because they
knew too much, not because they presented any serious threat to Edenhardt.


“If it will make you happier, I’ll read the article. One thing, though?”


“What is it, Harry?”


“Well, you remember the editorial? Did people really react to what I said?”


“Well, it really wasn’t that noticeable. I mean, not everybody reacted.”


Harry frowned slightly and looked down.


“I honestly didn’t notice,” he said sadly.


“Hey, cheer up,” said Hermione, reaching out for his hand. “I still want to know why you didn’t
deface your Slinkhard book.”


Harry looked up and returned her smile.


*


They stepped out into the cold night air having exchanged extended goodbyes with Maggie and
Geoff. It had taken the efforts of both harry and Hermione to get them to take any money at all for
their meals, which, they both assured them, were excellent.


Harry took off his jacket and placed it on Hermione’s shoulders for the short walk home.


“Thanks,” she said with a shiver. “This is nice.”


“Yes, your Mum insisted on buying it for me. She even found time to sew me a deep inside pocket
for my wand.”


There was no traffic at all now and they crossed the road hand in hand at an easy pace before
making their way towards the approach road, which was lit only by house lights.


The square was lit by four lamposts as well as the house lights.


“Your Mum and Dad must be back,” said Harry, seeing the Granger’s living room lights on.


“But where’s the car?” asked Hermione. “Did you leave the lights on?”


“No, I’m sure we left them off. Perhaps they got a cab back.”


“Well, that would be unusual. Mum drives if Dad has a drink.”


Harry pulled Hermione to the side.


“Let’s be a little cautious. It may be nothing, but we shouldn’t take any chances.”


Hermione reached into Harry’s jacket and handed him his wand before holding up her own.


“Where did you keep that?” asked Harry.


“Is this really the time?”


“Er, no. Let’s go right around the square so anyone inside won’t have a clear view. Perhaps we
can sneak a view into the windows before going inside.”


“Okay.”


They walked around using the shadows to conceal them where possible. They also walked on the
grass verge to avoid making too much noise.


When they finally got to the Grangers house, Harry crept along the front under the windows
before cautiously peering into the living room.


He allowed himself a small groan, got up at once and went over to join Hermione.


“It’s alright,” he assured her. “We have company. I’m sorry, but you probably won’t get your
other sock this evening.”


They unlocked the front door and went inside to find Neville and Ron playing chess at the
kitchen table.


“There you are!” said Ginny, coming down the stairs to join them. Luna then appeared from out of
the living room where Harry had just seen her.


“We didn’t think you were coming home at one point,” said Ron. “Luna said she saw you come into
the square and then duck into the shadows.”


“Well, we didn’t know who you were, did we?” said Harry. “How did you get here, anyway?”


“Mum was worried,” said Ron. “The newspaper thing, you know?”


“That doesn’t actually explain *how*, but thanks for saying *why*.”


“What’s the matter with you?” asked Ron. “If you want us to go, just say so.”


“Thanks, I want you to-” Harry began before saying, “Ow!” as Hermione pinched him.


“Of course we want you all to stay,” said Hermione walking over and putting the kettle on.


“We think that thing’s broken,” said Ron.


Hermione just pushed the kettle plug into the wall socket and flicked the switch.


“Oh, *that’s* what you do,” said Ron.


Harry rubbed his arm and said, “Look, I don’t know why she’s upset. She was there when Luna’s
Dad interviewed me. It can’t have been too much of a surprise.”


“She wasn’t upset by *The Quibbler*, Harry,” explained Luna.


“But Ron just said,” Harry began as Ginny handed him a newspaper.


It was the *Daily Prophet* and the front page had a copy of the photograph Mrs Bandy had
taken earlier that day.


“How on earth did they get a copy of this?”


“Well, the Prophet never likes to be second when it comes to a story. Dad’s extra edition caught
them napping and they’re trying to catch up.”


“But this photo was only taken this morning when the library had only just opened. No one there
knew who I was.”


He looked down at the headline. It read, “*Potter takes up Edenhardt mantle*.”


Harry threw the paper down and muttered, “I need to check in with Dumbledore,” before heading up
the stairs.


*


“Yes, Harry.”


“Hello, Sir. We just got back.”


“From your tone I assume you’ve read the headlines?”


“Yes, Sir. But that’s not it.”


Dumbledore raised his eyebrows.


“I suppose I’m mostly upset that our evening got interrupted.”


“Don’t be too harsh on them, Harry. They are there because they care. I’m sure there will be
other evenings.”


Harry resisted the temptation to kick the paint can beside his camp bed. Lightning flashed
silently outside. He looked up at the rooflight. It wasn’t raining yet.


“Do you know how they got hold of the photograph?”


“Not yet. Kingsley and Hammond are making separate enquiries.”


Harry squinted out of the rooflight towards the horizon. Dark clouds were gathering and the wind
was picking up.


“Sir? I need to go and check something. I’ll call you back within the hour.”


Harry slowly pocketed the mirror, all the time watching the approaching storm. Something didn’t
feel right.


He hurried downstairs, ran through the lobby and into the kitchen. To everyone’s surprise, Harry
threw open the sliding patio window and stepped outside.


Crookshanks darted towards him but stopped to look up him before going inside.


“I know,” Harry said gently. Crookshanks dived inside and headed for a dark chair to lie
underneath.


“Hedwig?” Harry shouted into the night.


Nothing.


“HEDWIG!” he shouted louder.


Then he saw her. Flying fast towards him, low over the back field. She barely cleared the garden
fence and flew right past him onto Hermione’s outstretched arm.


“Take her inside,” said Harry, still looking out into the night.


“She looks distressed,” shouted Hermione from inside.


There was another flash of lightning and the wind blew strongly. Harry realised he had yet to
hear any thunder but he did hear a crash coming from within one of the two sheds.


Harry withdrew his wand and walked cautiously down the steps and along to the sheds. One of the
doors had been forced open. He flung the door open and found a figure hunched inside.


“*Reducto*!”


The parchment and quill the stranger was holding instantly burst into flames.


“Argh!” he shouted as the flames licked his hands.


“Get out of there, now!” ordered Harry angrily.


“Who are you?” demanded Hermione, angrily brushing her windswept hair out of her face. “Why did
you break into my parent’s shed?”


“My name is Rabble, and I’m a reporter for the Daily Prophet,” he said defiantly, as if that was
all the justification he needed for breaking and entering.


“You’re in trouble this time, Potter. You performed magic and I know you are still underage.
Worse, you destroyed my copy for tomorrow’s edition.”


“Hermione,” Harry shouted to make himself heard above the howl of the wind. “Get inside and
close the windows. The electric will fail shortly, but don’t worry about it.”


“Harry, come inside!”


“No, *we* are staying out here for a bit,” she shouted, grabbing Rabble by the shoulder to
stop him following. “Come on you, let’s go for a walk.”


“Where?”


Harry grinned and pointed out into the rear field.


There was another flash of lightning and suddenly all the electric lights went out, plunging
them into darkness.


The wind dropped abruptly, and there was an eerie silence.


“So, shall we go and see what’s out there?”


“No!”


“What kind of talk is that coming from an ace investigative reporter? Don’t you want to see me
fall victim to Edenhardt’s beast?”


“That was The Quibbler’s angle. We’re reporting that you now control the beast. You’ll set it on
me!”


“Don’t tempt me. What is this thing supposed to be, anyway?” asked Harry as he pushed the
reporter towards the side gate.


“You don’t know?”


“I never got around to reading any of the articles.”


“I’m not going! I feel faint!”


Rabble slumped in a heap onto the hard concrete pavings.


Harry grabbed him by his collar and dragged him along the path, back around to the patio window.
There, they were soon lit up by five narrow wand light beams. Hermione threw the window open.


“Take him inside and tie him up. Here, Hermione,” he said handing her his mirror as Neville and
Ron dragged Rabble inside. “Call Dumbledore and get the Ministry over here to arrest him.”


Hermione grasped his sleeve.


“Don’t go, Harry,” she pleaded.


“This has to end somehow, Hermione. I wrote my name in the book. It’ll be better if I face
whatever this is out there, rather than here.”


Tears were welling in her eyes as Harry mouthed, “I love you.”


He Disapparated silently, leaving her fingers grasping thin air.


*


Harry Apparated into the middle of the field, snorting with amusement that when he’d finally
been able to Apparate properly, no one was around to see it.


He looked up at the angry storm clouds. Immediately above him, a swirling dense cloud vortex
descended towards him.


“Harry Potter,” said a slow, distant voice.


Harry looked around, trying to locate the source of the voice. It sounded low and ethereal.


The vortex hit the ground and Harry coughed as the dust filled the air.


He turned slowly, trying not to stumble over the furrows ploughed into the earth. He couldn’t
make out anything in the distance now.


“I’ve come for you, Harry Potter.”


“Well, hurry up then,” muttered Harry.


“What did you say?” asked the voice, sounding much closer now. Harry spun around and squinted
into the darkness.


“I said, *hurry up then*,” he shouted. “Is all this wind really necessary?”


“Don’t you like it?” asked the voice from behind him. Harry turned around quickly again, this
time dropping low.


“Not much,” Harry replied. As he did so, the wind quietened down.


The blackness of the night appeared to press against his eyes. Harry couldn’t see anything at
all now.


“*Lumos*!” he whispered, and was shocked to hind himself staring into a pair of large,
emotionless black eyes.


Harry froze.


The large scaly head tilted to the side, as if questioning his behaviour.


“*You* wrote your name in the book?”


Harry cleared his throat in an attempt to find his voice.


“My name is Piente. I believe you were expecting me?”


“Yes. Edenhardt gave me his word, though.”


“Edenhardt had only one influence upon me, but he is finally gone now. I have no obligation to
keep his word, whatever it was.”


“He promised me that my friends would be safe from him.”


“Well, since he’s dead, they should be on no danger from him. For myself, I have no interest in
hurting anyone,” the beast said calmly, “except, if you’ll permit me to state the obvious,
yourself. I hope this eases your mind.”


“Um, it does, actually. Thank you.”


Piente bowed his large head.


“Your portrait doesn’t do you justice,” said Harry.


“Portrait?”


“Edenhardt’s motif. The knight and the serpent.”


“That was not Edenhardt’s. He borrowed it from an ancient cult when he captured me.”


“He captured you?”


“Yes. He had me trapped in a lair guarded by many wards. There was only one entrance. I was
allowed out when Edenhardt wanted a name eliminated from the book.”


“Why did you co-operate with him?”


“It is an obligation and my punishment for allowing myself to be captured.”


“How can you be set free?”


“I am free, Harry Potter.”


“Well, at least one of us is,” Harry replied sarcastically.


“I believe it was you who rescued the little girl?”


“How did you know?”


“I was there with her, although I retreated when I heard you coming.”


“The entrance to your lair was in that cellar?” Harry asked incredulously.


“Indeed. I sang to her to keep her company, but she couldn’t hear me.”


“You weren’t tempted to hurt her?”


“Certainly not,” Piente replied sounding quite indignant. “I do not attack the innocent, nor
would I have allowed any harm to come to her.”


“I’m sorry, Piente. You are a Basilisk aren’t you?”


“I am,” Piente replied imperiously, “although I am surprised you recognise me.”


“Well,” said Harry feeling embarrassed, “I have met one other Basilisk at Hogwarts. Salazar
Slytherin locked this one up in the Chamber of Secrets. Someone arranged to let it out though.”


“Does my brother enjoy living at Hogwarts?”


“Erm,” Harry began hesitantly. “I locked him back in, after I, er, killed him.”


Piente turned suddenly and stared at Harry.


“Well, Slytherin was rather twisted,” said Piente eventually. “Being locked up for years would
not have helped much, either.”


“Just a minute,” said Harry suddenly. “How come I’m not petrified?”


“That is a defence mechanism. I have to *will* you to become frozen.”


“Oh, I didn’t know that. I never got the chance to talk to the other one. He only took orders
from the Heir of Slytherin. You know, Voldemort.”


“Tell me about Voldemort.”


“What?”


“I want you to tell me about Voldemort. This is one of the reasons that we are talking rather
than fighting right now.”


“Oh, um, right.”


“Well?”


“He’s a dark wizard. His powers grew until he heard part of a Prophecy about himself and me. He
murdered my parents and then tried to murder me when I was a baby. His curse backfired and he fled
after giving me this scar. A couple of years ago he returned. He has a body now and he’s intent
upon killing me.”


“Ah, now that is interesting. It makes more sense the way you tell it.”


“Well, the facts aren’t widely known. Who told you?”


“A rather annoying goblin. He kept hectoring me to leave you alone.”


“Was his name Grublok?”


“I was too busy trying to eat him.”


“You didn’t?”


“No, he escaped,” said Piente sounding quite disappointed. “I just couldn’t understand why a
goblin would risk his life to help a wizard.”


“I think he rather dislikes Voldemort,” said Harry.


“Clearly. Oh, well.”


“Um, what will you do now? I mean, after today? You have your freedom, don’t you?”


“I have no idea. There are few places where I can remain concealed.”


“I could ask Professor Dumbledore if you can come and live in the Forbidden Forest, if you’d
like. I’m sure he would agree provided you promised not to hurt any of the students.”


“That is most thoughtful, but perhaps unrealistic. He would not be too keen on providing me with
a home after killing one of his students.”


“He’s remarkably tolerant, actually. Maybe I could write a note. Hey, are you laughing at
me?”


Piente finished chuckling and said, “Just a little.”


“Harry!”


He looked around as a distant shout reached them.


Harry’s heart sank. The last thing he needed was for his friends to be put at risk as well.


As Piente began to move off, Harry shouted, “Hey, wait! You promised. Leave them alone.”


“I did not say I would not defend myself, Harry Potter.”


All too quickly, thin wand lights scanned out towards them. One looked way ahead of the others.
Harry guessed that was Hermione’s.


“Stay back!” shouted Harry at the top of his voice. “He’s a Basilisk! Go Back!”


The distant wand lights appeared to hesitate for a moment, but the nearest one honed in on his
position. Piente slid off into the darkness as Hermione ran up and collapsed into Harry’s arms.
They both fell to their knees onto the dry dirt.


Hermione was gasping for breath.


“I wanted you to stay safe,” said Harry gently.


“I saw you,” she panted, “from an upstairs window. I had to come.”


By the time she had caught her breath, the others arrived. Harry looked up as sheet lightning
lit the darkness. His four friends were thrown into silhouette for an instant.


“Put your wands away,” ordered Harry. “You’re safe so long as you’re not a threat.”


Their wand tips were extinguished as one by one they reluctantly obeyed.


Harry looked down to Hermione and whispered, “Please.”


There was another loud crunch as Piente scraped quickly towards them. This time when he appeared
he appeared to be glowing. Harry reached down and gently pulled Hermione’s wand out of her hand.
She did not resist.


“I meet to stand, Hermione,” said Harry, and he waited patiently for her to release his arms
before getting up again.


“Why is this ground so dry?” she asked. “It was raining earlier.”


“I don’t like the rain,” said Piente absently.


“Can we please get this over with?” demanded Harry. “If you are intent upon attacking me, do it
now.”


“Yes, Harry Potter. It is time, but not for me to attack you. I realise that now. Did you know
that your name was the first one ever to be written in that book as a selfless act? Every other
name was written out of revenge, malice or fear. I think that is what broke the enchantment, more
than actually destroying the book.”


Harry lowered his wand. He suddenly had a terrible feeling about something.


“Wait,” said Harry. “It does not have to be like this.”


“Yes, Harry Potter, it does. I was created out of evil and then manipulated all my life. Now,
thanks to you, at least I can end it on my terms.”


“Come with us back to Hogwarts.”


“No. I am tired of this existence.”


Harry shook his head, searching for an argument he could employ.


“Tell me, Harry Potter. How did you know?”


“Your feelings. I have never spoken to a snake with feelings before. You say one thing, but
another meaning is expressed.”


“Bring the rain, Harry Potter.”


Harry lifted his arm and pointed his wand directly upwards. A blue lightning flash erupted from
the tip of his wand and extended far up into the dark clouds. Instantly the wind picked up again
and a bolt of lightning flew down towards Harry but appeared to freeze upon contact with the tip of
his wand.


Harry hesitated.


“Now, Harry Potter. Thank you.”


Harry flicked his wand, throwing the lightning at Piente. The Basilisk writhed for a moment as
an incredibly loud clap of thunder sounded. The snake fell still.


Harry walked over. Piente was quite dead.


Nearby, Harry heard the dull thud of a heavy rain drop hitting the dry earth. A second later,
more fell. Soon after, it began to rain heavily.


As the rain hit the Basilisk’s body, it began to burn fiercely. Soon, not even ashes
remained.


“So that’s what a Basilisk looks like,” said Ron from behind him.


“Don’t be so insensitive!” barked Ginny.


Harry blinked and tears were washed away by the torrent of rain pouring down his face. He felt
so sorry for Piente and angry that he should have chosen death over life.


It was a few moments before Harry realised Hermione was standing next to him, holding his
arm.


He looked down at her and she said, “No hurry,” with a smile.


She looked incredibly wet, wearing his jacket over her nightdress. Both looked ruined. As he
came back to his senses he realised he was rather wet as well.


He looked around to see his four friends waiting patiently for them.


“We should go back,” he said, his voice uncertain and breaking.


They nodded. Ron and Luna set off back across the field, continuing to look around. Harry waited
for Neville and Ginny to move but they didn’t.


“Come on,” said Hermione gently. “They’ll follow.”


She tugged on his arm and Harry took a step. Once he was moving, Hermione didn’t let him stop.
Ginny and Neville followed a few feet behind. Harry realised that the five of them clearly intended
to escort him back to safety.


Harry wiped his glasses with his free hand. He then wiped his eyes because that hadn’t made him
see very much clearer. Through his smeared glasses, Harry could see that the electricity was back
on in the village. He also thought he could see some flashing lights reflected off a couple of
roofs, but wasn’t sure.




13. Robbery
-----------


**Bring the Rain**


by Jardyn39


**Chapter 13: Robbery**


It took only a few minutes for them to walk back to the village across the fields. It was much
easier now that there were lights to head for.


As they walked through the narrow alley that led from the fields into the square, Harry thought
he must have been mistaken about the flashing lights. Then, as they turned into the square, he saw
the patrol cars. They must have turned their lights out when the electricity returned to the
houses.


Harry hesitated but Hermione said, “No, come on. I’ve just seen Hammond looking out of our
living room window.”


The six of them trudged over towards the house. Before they got halfway up the garden path Mrs
Granger had opened the door and leapt outside to embrace Harry and Hermione in a tight hug.


“Oh, I was so worried!” she gasped.


“We’re fine, Mum, honestly.”


“You’re all soaked!” she added with concern, releasing them. “Come in and get dry.”


They removed their muddy shoes in the hallway and were shooed upstairs by Mrs Granger. Harry,
though, went through into the kitchen having seen Hammond.


“Hello, Harry,” Hammond said with a small smile. “Nice weather to go for a walk in.”


Harry snorted and brushed his wet hair back.


“Harry, I’d like to introduce you to Andy Pagelow and Susan Trent. They are colleagues of
mine.”


Harry shook each of their hands.


“We’ve been investigating an incident that happened a few days ago,” said Pagelow. “Our computer
systems had an audit a couple of days ago and we had a report that the records may have been
changed.”


“Really?” said Harry.


“Yes. The records appear to have deleted your name and substituted another. We believe the
substitute name is fictitious, but we were surprised when your Aunt and Uncle referred us to Peter
here, when we inquired as to your whereabouts.”


“Oh,” said Harry as Mr Granger came into the kitchen and threw a dry towel at him. “Thanks.”


“We understand you attend a private school in the North.”


“Yes,” replied Harry, draping the towel around his neck.


“When was the last time you were in Pike Street, Harry?” asked Trent.


“Where is Pike Street?” asked Harry.


“That’s where the bank that was robbed is located.”


“I’ve never heard of it,” said Harry.


“Perhaps you forgot the name of the street,” suggested Pagelow. “When was the last time you
visited the bank, Harry?”


“I’ve never been to any bank in Pike Street, wherever that is.”


“But you have an account there.”


“No, I don’t!” said Harry with half a laugh.


Seeing that Pagelow and Trent were looking at him utterly unconvinced, he turned to Hammond.


“Are you sure the account is mine? I really don’t know anything about it.”


“The accounts were opened some weeks ago,” said Trent, “a deposit was made just before the
robbery.”


“Harry’s name wasn’t on the list of account holders the bank manager gave us.”


“He gave us a list for the vault that was broken into, not the other vault. He conveniently
forgot about the Potter accounts. His box was moved to the long term vault. That is why it was
opened just before the break-in.”


“Was there an address given?” asked Hammond.


“Yes, it was care of a solicitor. A Mr Grublok. We have been unable to locate him just yet.”


“So, although Harry’s name was used, there’s nothing to tie him with the robbery.”


“It seemed clear to us that the firm who robbed the vault used the Potter deposit box to store
some of the equipment in. Then, they put the items that were stolen back into the same box knowing
the bank would relocate it before we got there.”


“But,” pressed Hammond, “they were unlikely to use the name of a person actually involved in the
robbery.”


Pagelow sighed and nodded. Harry let go the breath he’d been keeping.


“We just wanted to be sure,” he agreed. “We both had a weird feeling after we interviewed your
Aunt and Uncle. It was like they also knew every question beforehand, like we’d been there
before.”


“The other strange thing was the complete absence of photographs of you,” added Trent. “We
wondered if you really existed for a while.”


Harry looked down.


“Well, I’m glad you got *something* out of your investigation,” said Hammond brightly.


“Yes, it was rather fortunate that Susan spotted that security guard. He has admitted selling
details of the patrol times but I can’t see how he was of much more help to them.”


Mrs Granger appeared and scowled at them.


“Harry, you are soaked. You’ll catch pneumonia. Go and get changed at once,” she ordered.


Harry smiled warmly at her and nodded.


“Well, we’re done anyway,” said Pagelow. “We’ll say goodnight and leave you in peace. Enjoy the
rest of your holiday.”


Harry shook their hands before Hammond escorted them out to their car.


“Where’s that reporter?” Harry asked as soon as they had gone.


“It’s okay,” said Mrs Granger. “Kingsley spirited him away just before the police arrived.
Harry, please go and get dry.”


*


Harry squelched his way upstairs and found Neville and Ron waiting in his makeshift bedroom.


“They’ve gone,” he advised, peeling off his wet clothes.


“Who were they, Harry?” asked Neville.


“Police. They linked me to the bank robbery after all. I’ll tell you everything, but I need to
visit the bathroom first.”


“No chance, mate,” Ron said with a grin. “The girls are in there.”


“What, all three of them?”


“Yup.”


Harry hurried to change and go to the ground floor lavatory. As he passed the stairs, loud
giggles emanated from the closed bathroom door.


He emerged in less of a hurry and went into the utility room where he found Mrs Granger sorting
out their wet clothes.


“I’m sorry,” he said picking up the jeans he’d just thrown inside when he was passing.


“It’s alright,” she replied with a laugh. “I could tell you were in a bit of a hurry. Go and
drink your chocolate while it’s hot. I’ve almost finished here anyway,” she added taking the jeans
he’d just folded and throwing them into a basket.


Harry entered the kitchen just in time to see Kingley Apparate into the hall. He immediately
looked up and grinned seeing Hermione, Ginny and Luna coming down the stairs, each adorned with
bath robes and towels.


“I’ve just been interviewed by your Dad, Luna,” he said brightly as he followed them into the
kitchen.


“Oh, that’s nice.”


“Good grief, girls,” said Mr Granger, looking at his watch. “That must be a record.”


“No, Dad. We’re just taking a break for drinks and to catch up on what’s happening.”


“Oh, before I forget,” said Kingsley, “Luna’s Dad asked if it would be okay for Luna to stay
here tonight because he’ll be rather late back.”


“Of course it’s okay,” said an unseen Mrs Granger from the utility room. “You’ll all stay, won’t
you?”


“What are you looking so pleased about?” asked Hammond with a suspicious look at Kingsley.


“Well, it looks like we got away with it,” Kingsley replied. “As far as we can see, no one is
any the wiser.”


“What have you been up to?” asked Mrs Granger coming into the kitchen. When he didn’t answer,
she added, “Well?”


“Um,” said Kingsley looking suddenly rather uncomfortable. “We closed the Potter accounts
yesterday.”


“What?” said Harry.


Ron laughed and said, “You robbed them again!”


Kingsley just grinned and nodded.


“Oh, no,” said Hammond quietly.


The others were laughing now, other than Harry, Hammond and Mrs Granger. Hermione stopped seeing
Harry’s expression.


“What did you get away with?” asked Mr Granger, smiling.


“Well, the deposit box was almost empty but the account had quite a bit of cash in there.”


“What was in the box?”


“A letter, addressed to Harry, and the Deeds to Edenhardt’s properties.”


“What will you do with the money?”


“Dumbledore said that was entirely up to Harry,” said Kingsley, handing him a thick
envelope.


Harry turned the letter over and broke Edenhardt’s wax seal on the back. He pulled out the
letter and read. The others waited expectantly.


“Did Dumbledore know what you were going to do?” asked Harry seriously.


“No. He wasn’t too pleased actually, but why should we let them keep the money?”


Harry looked behind him up to the kitchen clock over the window.


“At ten o’clock tomorrow morning a money transfer will take the money from the account you
emptied. That transfer was set up to close that account. The money was intended for two Trusts. The
main one is for a housing and low income support trust. The other smaller one was to support Julie
Powell and the other victims of Edenhardt’s people.”


Harry handed the letter to Mrs Granger and there was a light rap on the patio window. Mr Granger
slid open the window and Grublok entered.


“Hello, Grublok,” Harry said with a smile.


“We have been robbed, Harry Potter,” he replied seriously.


“You were expecting the deposit box to be emptied, or you wouldn’t have left my letter in
there,” said Harry.


“True, but why did they empty the other account. It wasn’t even in your name.”


Harry frowned and looked over to Kingsley.


“What was the name of the account holder?” asked Harry.


“We got the right account,” said Kingsley indignantly. “It was called the Edenhardt-Potter Trust
fund, but you and Grublok were the Trustees.”


“The new Trusts are established under Muggle law,” said Grublok firmly. “If the transfers fail
their legal status will be irrevocably compromised. Edenhardt is dead, so he cannot now countersign
the legal documentation. Not only that, but the Muggle financial authorities will have to
investigate. It will look like a massive fraud with Harry Potter the only one culpable.”


Hammond swore.


“Grublok? How did Edenhardt set this up?” asked Harry.


“He didn’t. I suggested you as a trustee months ago. Actually, it was Julie Powell who gave me
the idea. Edenhardt’s memory was beginning to fail him towards the end, though. At times it was
like he was back to his old manic self. I felt it prudent not to mention that he wished to turn
over a new leaf.”


“Grublok, will you please help me to rectify this tonight?”


“That would be imprudent, Harry Potter. There is little time and we do not know how they removed
the money nor where the money is now.”


“Yes, how did you get the cash out?”


“Well, we created some fake identity papers in your name and I went in and withdrew the money,”
admitted Kingsley. “I had all the account details. It was easy.”


“You took the money in cash?”


“Yes, it had to be untraceable. Arthur gave me a hand. We hired a security van to carry it
all.”


“So, you’re both on the security cameras?”


“No, they had another technical failure at the time.”


“Well, at least that’s something. What do you suggest, Grublok?”


“I think we had better hurry. Where is the money at this precise moment?”


“We deposited in Gringotts for safe keeping.”


“Then, that is our first port of call. Please give me the account details.”


Kingsley fumbled in his pocket and handed over a slip of paper. “Gringotts is closed, Harry. How
will you get in?”


“Well, I was a suspect in a bank robbery, remember. This time I’ll be slightly more than
that.”


“I can’t let you attempt a robbery at Gringotts,” said Kingsley seriously.


“We ready?” asked Harry.


Grublok nodded and with a flick of his long fingers was gone with a crack.


“Harry, wait. We need to plan this properly,” pleaded Hammond.


Mrs Granger smiled warmly at him and said simply, “Good luck, dear.”




14. Reception Committee
-----------------------


**Bring the Rain**


by Jardyn39


**Chapter 14: Reception Committee**


Harry Apparated silently into the dark, deserted street in front of Gringotts bank in Diagon
Alley. It was strangely quiet and Harry realised he had never visited here at night before.


“You did that rather well,” said a familiar voice from out of the shadows.


Harry turned suddenly to see Albus Dumbledore emerge from the shadows. He lowered is wand.


“Thank you, Professor.”


“Can we get on with this?” asked Grublok impatiently, making Harry start. He had no idea where
the goblin had just come from.


“Um, how do we get in?” asked Harry uncertainly, looking up at the bank. All of the windows were
shuttered and there were no lights on the building outside.


Grublok marched up the steps and rapped loudly on the closed doors. To Harry’s utter amazement,
it opened and a goblin beckoned them inside.


“Hello Griphook,” said Harry warmly as they entered the dimly lit banking hall.


“Welcome, Mr Potter. Mr Dumbledore,” replied Griphook bowing deeply to each of them. He just
looked suspiciously at Grublok without saying a word.


“This is Grublok, Griphook. He’s a friend of ours,” said Harry.


“Griphook knows Grublok, Sir,” Griphook replied coldly.


“We understand some Muggle money was deposited in my name a few hours ago. Is that correct?”


“Yes, Sir. Kingsley Shacklebolt and Arthur Weasley made the deposit.”


“We need to withdraw that money and return it to its rightful place. Is that going to be a
problem, only we don’t have much time?”


“What currency do you need the money in?”


“Muggle British Pounds, please.”


“Very well, however we will have to deduct a small fee for utilising our night service.”


“No, I’ll pay any fees out of my own account.”


“As you wish, Sir. The fee will be Two Thousand Five Hundred Galleons.”


Harry gasped but fortunately Grublok stepped in and negotiated a lower fee.


“How much did Kingsley take, anyway?” asked Harry in a whisper as Grublok concluded his
deal.


“It was a rather significant amount,” agreed Dumbledore as Griphook wheeled out five large
trolleys all stacked with high denomination notes. Harry simply couldn’t believe the amount of
money he was looking at.


“No wonder they needed to hire a security van,” Harry mused. “Surely withdrawing this amount of
cash had to look suspicious?”


“Perhaps that particular bank is used to suspicious withdrawals,” offered Dumbledore. “However,
I agree, we should look out for any notifications the bank may be required to provide the financial
authorities regarding large cash transactions.”


“Would Sir like to count it or may I bag it for you?”


“No, I don’t need to count it, thanks. Sorry, but what do you mean *bag it*?” asked
Harry.


Griphook help up a small blue envelope and flicked his fingers. The stacks of money leapt into
the air and flew into the envelope. Griphook the closed the blue envelope and carefully placed it
inside a slightly larger green envelope.


He handed it to Harry and said, “No extra charge. Just touch the blue envelope and the cash will
fly out and stack itself up as before. I have taken the liberty of including a list of serial
numbers that can be transferred as required.”


“Wow, thanks,” said Harry, signing for the money and transferring the fee from his account.


*


Outside, Grublok Disapparated away quickly but Dumbledore remaining behind to speak with
Harry.


“Harry, you don’t know where the bank is and in addition you have not Apparated that distance
before.”


Harry nodded, expecting Dumbledore to create a Portkey for him.


“In a moment I’m going to Disapparate but hold myself here. I want you to Disapparate and follow
me. If you become lost, simply Apparate to a safe point and wait for me to find you.”


“Okay,” said Harry uncertainly, taking his wand out again.


Dumbledore smiled and vanished.


Harry took a steadying breath and concentrated. He too then Disapparated and held himself there.
Dumbledore was a clear presence then as a glowing golden flame.


Dumbledore’s outline turned and flew high over the Diagon Alley rooftops. Harry followed and
soon they were speeding towards Surrey.


An instant later, Dumbledore slowed and then vanished again. He had Apparated. Harry did the
same and found himself in a shop doorway standing next to his Headmaster.


“Excellent, Harry,” said Dumbledore. “I can see it’s time to advance your tuition.”


Grublok coughed pointedly.


“Indeed,” agreed Dumbledore, “perhaps we should conclude our business here first. Shall we
proceed inside?”


“There’s a problem,” said Grublok.


Dumbledore turned to Harry and asked, “Did you see them?”


“Yes, three of them are in that van parked over there, one is in a doorway and I suspect that
two are in a car down that way.”


“Yes. There are also two up on the roof over there.”


“Sorry, I forgot to look up as I passed,” admitted Harry.


“So, we have a reception committee.”


“Give me a moment to disable the alarms,” said Grublok, “then follow me in.”


“Is that wise?” asked Dumbledore. “I suspect they will be alerted as soon as the alarm system is
disabled.”


“True, but I can freeze the sensors for a few minutes. Besides, it will take them a while to
react, anyway.”


“Harry, I suggest you go directly to the vault. There are no alarm sensors in there.”


Harry nodded and Disapparated. He flew into the building remembering the layout from the plans
drawn into the back of his Slinkhard book.


He quickly made his way down the lift shaft and attempted to pass through the great shiny steel
vault door. For some reason he was unable to get through, though. There was a kind of resistance
that kept pushing him back.


Determined to get inside, Harry went instead through the lightly reinforced side wall and around
to the back of the vault. It was easy passing through the earth but the heavily reinforced walls of
the vault gave him more resistance. Harry pushed himself through and realised there were two people
waiting inside for him. Concentrating as hard as he could, he Apparated silently behind them.


Harry looked around. The vault was bigger than the sketch plans had led him to believe. He was
standing inside an open cage beside an assortment of strong boxes. He carefully edged his way out
into the vault central area, thankful that the two were facing away from him, towards the vault
door.


“I spy with my little eye,” said a bored sounding Pagelow, “something beginning with
*M*.”


“Money?” suggested Harry.


“No, I already did that one,” said Trent before they both fell off their crates with
surprise.


“Sorry,” said Harry apologetically, but he couldn’t help grinning at their shocked faces.


“*Accio*!” he whispered and their walkie-talkies flew into his free hand. The pair of them
looked too stunned to resist.


“Are you armed?” asked Harry.


“Y- You!” stammered Pagelow. “I knew you were mixed up in this!”


“I told you we should have checked those boxes!” said Trent, clearly convinced Harry had been
hiding all the time they’d been waiting.


“Pardon me for asking, but why are you waiting in here?” asked Harry.


“We knew you’d be after the money in that account, obviously. You had to get it tonight, didn’t
you? After tomorrow morning the money will be moved over to a Trust and the new Trustees will have
control over it.”


“Er, actually, that money was withdrawn yesterday, during normal banking hours.”


“What?”


“Yes,” replied Harry, adding an apologetic, “Sorry.”


“But the transfers are due to happen tomorrow morning,” argued Trent.


“That’s why I had to return the money tonight. The people that took the money thought they were
helping, but actually they just made things a little more complicated. I am a Trustee of the new
Trust, actually, if that helps.”


Pagelow and Trent just looked at each other.


“Where shall we leave the money?” Harry wondered aloud. “Those side cages look about the right
size.”


He walked past them and pulled out his envelope. The cages were locked but he hoped that
wouldn’t matter. He gingerly opened the outer envelope and pointed the open end towards the empty
cages. He gently brushed his fingers against the blue envelope. Instantly the money flew out of the
envelope in a blur and stacked itself neatly inside the cages.


“Right,” Harry said turning and folding up the envelope. “That was the easy part. Now all I have
to do is amend the records to credit this money to the account.”


“Unfortunately, you are trapped in here with us,” said Pagelow. “The time lock will not open
until tomorrow morning.”


Harry grinned as the vault door clicked and slowly opened.


Dumbledore pointed his wand and said calmly, “*Obliviate*!”


*


“Sir, what are you doing?”


“I don’t like leaving them locked inside like this.”


“The emergency phones will work as soon as we leave, won’t they?”


“Yes.”


“Look, the two full breakfasts you’ve left might be appreciated,” said Grublok with some
annoyance, “but the two loungers do look rather out of place.”


“Have you amended the transfer details?” asked Dumbledore.


“Yes, as far as I can. There will be an anomaly in the computer accounts but I’m hoping they
will assume the computers are wrong. They’ll have the cash and all the paperwork, so that shouldn’t
be too much of a problem.”


“What about the cashiers and manager who paid the money out?” asked Harry.


“They should assume it was a separate transaction.”


“But that vault isn’t that big. You couldn’t get enough cash for two transactions that size in
there!”


“Except, it couldn’t be your account, because your account was closed. Banker’s logic; never
fails. Well, I believe we should be going. We have only minutes before the security switches
over.”


Dumbledore closed the vault door and joined them.


“Well,” said Grublok, “I believe this is goodbye.”


“Wait a moment Grublok,” said Harry, kneeling down in front of the goblin. “I want to thank you.
I know you you tried to stop the Basilisk from seeking me out. Thank you,” said Harry holding his
hand out for the goblin to shake.


“We all do what we can,” Grublok said modestly. “Voldemort ordered most of my family to be
killed. I’m sorry to use you to get to him.”


“I’ll try not to let you down.”


“Remember that Voldemort isn’t the only thing you must live or die for. I made you a Trustee to
remind you of that. You will need to select the other Trustees, but I suspect you have already
decided.”


Harry grinned and nodded.


“What about you, Grublok? You received a rather frosty reception at Gringotts tonight. Is there
any way I can help there?”


“No, that is a personal matter.”


“Well, if you ever need anything, just ask, okay?”


“I will. Goodbye, Harry Potter. Goodbye, Professor Dumbledore,” he added with a short bow before
Disapparating with a snap of his fingers.


“That was the first time I’ve seen him bow to anyone but Edenhardt,” observed Harry.


“According to the bank clocks, Harry, we have twenty seconds to leave.”


“After you, Professor.”


Dumbledore vanished. Harry looked around once more before Disapparating directly back to the
Granger’s house.


*


Harry Apparated silently into the middle of the room, feeling slightly disoriented. The room was
in complete darkness, but something told him that something wasn’t quite right.


There was a click and Hermione’s bedside lamp blazed into life.


“There you are, Harry. Hermione’s been so worried about you,” said Ginny.


“Can we assume you weren’t caught?” asked Luna.


Harry realised he was standing between their two sleeping bags.


“Sorry,” said Harry. “I’ll speak to you in the morning.”


“We can pretend to be asleep if you want to kiss her goodnight,” offered Luna as Ginny stifled
her giggles in her bedclothes.


“Or I could go and say goodnight to Neville again?”


“I’m not sure he could manage that again quite so soon,” pointed out Luna. “He went terribly red
last time.”


Harry thought it would be best if he made a quick exit. He stepped over Luna towards the door
when an owl flew in through the open window and dropped a scroll on his head. The owl didn’t wait
for a reply.


“That’ll be your latest reprimand from the Ministry,” said Hermione sleepily. “You have a few
more downstairs that came earlier.”


“Thanks, I’ll go and read them. Goodnight.”


As he closed the door behind him, the girls erupted into guffaws of laughter. He headed
downstairs.


*


Downstairs, Harry made himself a mug of coffee and sat at the kitchen table, staring at the
small pile of Ministry reprimands.


He was barely aware of the shuffling slippers making their way towards him.


A pair of hands held his shoulders as he received a peck on his cheek.


Harry started when Mrs Granger said, “You look tired, Harry,” before sitting down opposite.


“Did everything go okay?”


“Yes. Well, I think it did. The Police were waiting for us. They didn’t know that Kingsley had
taken the money.”


“Gosh.”


“Mrs Granger, you know the letter from Grublok said I had to select the remaining Trustees?”


“Yes, Harry.”


“Well, I’d like you and Mr Granger to consider becoming Trustees for both the Trusts.”


“I’m sure we’d be honoured, but I rather assumed you’d want Hermione and your friends to become
Trustees.”


“They are Muggle Trusts. They’ll need help and I think your compassion and experience will be of
great benefit.”


“You’ll be here to help too, though.”


Harry looked at her for a long moment before looking down at his coffee again.


Mrs Granger frowned slightly, but decided to change the subject.


“Hermione says these reprimands may be quite serious.”


Harry shrugged his shoulders.


“Actually, Mum, I said they would be quite serious for anyone else.”


Harry snorted and looked up.


“Harry gets them all the time these days,” Hermione said yawning widely.


“Oh, we have a visitor,” said Mrs Granger, jumping up and sliding the patio window open. In
hopped an owl carrying a rolled up magazine. Mrs Granger untied the magazine and the bird flew off
at once.


Hermione slouched into the chair next to Harry, resting her head on his shoulder.


“It’s the latest Quibbler edition,” said Mrs Granger. “Oh, I love the headline. *PROPHET
REPORTER CAUGHT*.”


“*The Ministry of Magic last night formerly charged Daily Prophet Reporter Henry Rabble with
breaking into the Muggle residence where Harry Potter was enjoying the remainder of his holidays.
Rabble confessed to Aurors that he fabricated his last Potter story and was intending to do the
same for today’s edition when he was caught red handed by Potter himself*,” she continued to
read.


“*Rabble also accused Potter of using magic to assist his capture, but Auror Shacklebolt
praised Potter, saying that the* International Statute of Secrecy *took precedence over
the* Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery*, and that Potter did no more
than uphold the law*.”


“This is wonderful,” enthused Mrs Granger. “I’m so glad that ghastly man is getting his just
deserts.”


She wandered off upstairs, still reading passages out aloud.


“Poor Dad,” said Hermione with a smile. “He’s going to be woken up now and have the entire
magazine read to him.”


Harry smiled as Hermione reached out and put her arms around his neck.


“I lost it, Harry,” she said sadly.


“Lost what?”


“My sock. I think it fell out of my pocket while we were in the field.”


“We still have one left,” he said, pecking her on her lips.


“But I was going to wear it for you, remember?”


“You’ll look just as good in the other sock, Hermione.”


Harry felt her smile widen as she said quietly, “I’ll feel rather underdressed in just the one,
though.”


“Okay, Hermione. One more reprimand, just for you.”


He pointed his wand out over the garden fence towards the fields behind the house and said
firmly, “*Accio sock*!”


“No, Harry!” Hermione shouted as she jumped up and slid the window closed just in time.


A wide assortment of muddy socks and tights slammed into the window, leaving muddy trails as
they slid down the glass.


Harry looked on in bemusement as Hermione collapsed in fits of laughter.


“Harry, I think some of these were still being worn. Ew! Look, that one’s still steaming! They
are probably coming from all over the county!”


He got up and went over to her. Harry offered his hands and pulled her up, trying to ignore the
garments still hitting the window with dull thuds.


“How about we do without the socks tonight?” he suggested.


Hermione smiled up at him and put her arms around his neck once more.


“Thank you for a lovely evening, Harry.”


“Sorry about all the interruptions.”


“Just so long as you’re safe and back with me.”


“Nothing could stop that.”


“That basilisk dying upset you more than you wanted to show, didn’t it?”


“Yes. Piente chose to die rather than kill me and go free.”


“Let’s go into the living room,” she said gently. “You can tell me all about it.”


Harry nodded and Hermione pulled herself up to kiss him. They went into the living room and
closed the door behind them, leaving Crookshanks to watch the growing pile of socks building up
outside the house.


*One more Chapter to come…*




15. Holiday End
---------------


**Bring the Rain**


by Jardyn39


**Chapter 15: Holiday End**


Harry sat quietly on the groundsheet sorting out his Ministry reprimand letters. Next to him
Hermione was lying on her back, peacefully asleep, surrounded by an assortment of books.


Hermione’s parents were out looking for more paint after Mrs Granger had another rethink on the
master bedroom colour scheme. Still, they had finished redecorating the rest of the house without
incident. It was now Saturday and they would be travelling back to school tomorrow, ready for the
start of term on Monday.


Even now, he wasn’t entirely sure that Mrs Granger hadn’t just said she had changed her mind
about the colours just so that they could enjoy their last day doing nothing.


Harry thought it would have been a little less confusing if the Ministry had continued to time
as well as date the letters. He supposed it was getting too confusing for the Ministry to keep
track of as well. As it was, Harry was struggling to remember exactly what he had done and in what
order.


As he held his sixth letter, he realised this was something of a mute point.


He only knew it was the sixth letter because it began with the phrase, “*Further to our five
previous letters*,” and appeared to let him off at least part of his transgressions on account
of their finding Victoria, the small girl next door.


Unfortunately, Harry knew that he had performed magic *after* the sixth letter. Indeed,
that letter told him in no uncertain terms not to expect such forgiveness the next time he broke
the law.


Crookshanks wandered over and Harry scratched him absentmindedly.


Harry looked up to the sky, as he had done several times that morning, waiting for the next
Ministry owl to arrive. He wished for it to hurry up. Anything to distract his worrying.


His latest transgression had only occurred that morning and, Harry kept insisting to himself,
had been a complete accident. If only he knew how he had done it. He would risk a dozen more
reprimands to know how to reverse it.


Next to him, Hermione gave a quiet snuffle from underneath her sunhat, but didn’t wake.


Harry looked down at her and reinstated his worried frown.


He kept going through what happened in his mind. He had been reading through Hermione’s Advanced
Charms books and had practised pronouncing a charm. Hermione had suggested that he also practise
the wand movement without his actual wand.


Hermione slowly began to stir from her nap.


Harry wondered hopefully if she would be any better this time.


Suddenly she flung out her arms to steady herself and said in a fearful voice, “Ooo, make it
stop!”


“It’s alright, Hermione,” Harry said gently, taking hold of her hand. She grabbed him at
once.


“Harry, the ground’s still moving!”


“No, Hermione, the ground is perfectly still.”


“It’s too fast! I’m going to fall off!”


“Then we’ll fall off together,” he assured her.


With a great effort she reached over with her other arm and clung onto his arm.


“Don’t you dare let go of me,” she said, pulling herself closer.


“No, I won’t. Hermione, I’m so sorry. Are you sure you wouldn’t like to go inside?”


“What and fly off into the ceiling? No thank you!”


Harry wrapped his arms around her and gently stroked her back, totally at a loss what to do for
her.


There was a slight rustling and Harry looked up to see Victoria peeping over the top of the
fence between a couple of tall prickly bushes. He wasn’t sure what she was standing on behind
there, but she didn’t look too stable.


“Hi,” said Harry. “Be careful up there, won’t you?”


“I’m looking for Kim. Have you seen her?”


“I don’t know her, sorry. What does she look like?”


“She’s our tabby cat.”


“Oh. No sorry I haven’t seen,” he began to say but trailed off as there was no one to speak to.
A moment later, Victoria was letting herself in through the Granger’s side gate. She skipped along
the side path and down to the bottom step of the patio.


“What’s wrong with your friend?”


“She’s not quite feeling herself today, that’s all.”


“Why, isn’t she feeling well?”


“Sort of.”


“She should see a doctor. I saw a doctor when I was unwell.”


“Hermione isn’t exactly sick.”


Victoria frowned and the reached into her pocket. She held up the gold sovereign that Harry had
given her and whispered, “Can this help? I haven’t told anyone!”


Harry smiled and said, “I don’t think so. Step onto the grass and see.”


Victoria stepped lightly off the last step and suddenly froze as her long hair flew upwards. For
a long moment she held her breath before shrieking with laughter.


“Open your eyes,” directed Harry.


Victoria squinted at first, and then managed to open her eyes.


“Help!” she managed to say as she laughed. “Everything’s upside down!”


“Lift one leg off the ground,” Harry said gently.


“No, I’ll fall!”


“You’ll stay like that forever then. You have to prove to your mind that you know it isn’t real.
Go on, take a step forward.”


Victoria took a step forward and her hair fell around her shoulders.


She collapsed with laughter but a few moments later she recovered herself and crawled over and
turned her attention back to Hermione.


Reaching out and gently stroking Hermione’s hand, which was still white from gripping onto
Harry, she said reassuringly, “It’s easy. All you have to do is stand up, open your eyes and walk
forward.”


Hermione just shook her head.


“Here, borrow the gold coin Harry gave me for luck. It’ll make you brave.”


Victoria hesitated, wanting to hand the coin to Hermione, but when she realised the Hermione
wasn’t about to let go of Harry, she dropped the coin into Hermione’s cardigan pocket and ran off
towards the gate.


“Hey,” cried Harry, “where are you going?”


She stopped and looked back at him with a grin and said, “I’m getting all my friends. They’ve
just got to try this!”


“No! Wait!” shouted Harry. “You’ll just get me into even more trouble!”


The gate slammed shut behind her.


“Just great!” muttered Harry and looked down to Hermione.


She was looking up at him from under the brim of her hat with a wide grin on her face.


“Hermione, how long have you been winding me up about this?”


“Only a couple of hours. Why, Harry?”


Harry couldn’t get angry with her.


“How can I get rid of the charm? I’ve no idea how I did it in the first place, actually. I was
just reading the passage again and thinking how similar it was to the one I went through in the
maze. I didn’t even have my wand, did I? Er, Hermione, I don’t mind if you want to cut off my
circulation to my arm, but since you are only faking maybe this one could have a rest?”


Hermione snorted and released his arm. A moment later he was flattened by another hug to his
chest.


“Er, the grass, Hermione?”


“It won’t hurt. We’re almost on the groundsheet anyway.”


“Actually, I was referring to the charm on the grass. How do we remove it? I think I can hear
them coming!”


“Oh, don’t be a spoil sport, Harry. The charm has almost worn off now. It’ll be gone in a few
minutes. Let them have their fun.”


Harry could hear what sounded like a small army of over excited girls grouping on the other side
of the square, making ready for their advance.


“I’m going to get in so much trouble for this,” mused Harry as an owl swooped down and landed
next to them. The owl dropped the letter and flew off at once.


Harry sighed deeply.


Hermione pushed herself up and smiled down at him.


“Cheer up, Harry,” she said leaning down to kiss him before getting up.


“Where are you going?” he said with a hint of desperation in his voice. “You can’t leave
me!”


The girls were definitely getting closer now.


“I’m going to make some fruit juice,” she said, removing her sun hat and placing it gently on
his head before slowly making her way towards the steps. “They are bound to be thirsty after. Open
the letter, Harry,” she added picking up her books and carrying them inside.


Harry groaned and reached out for the letter just as the side gate opened.


“Go on! Step onto the grass!” yelled Victoria, pushing one of her friends forward. This was
followed by the first of many high pitched screams and much laughter as they all stepped off. The
only complaint would be that once they had stepped forward, the girls could no longer experience
the illusion.


Harry glanced down at the letter. It had the now very familiar Ministry wax seal.


Another high scream caused him to look up again. He smiled seeing Victoria and her friends
enjoying themselves so much. Many of them were practising hand stands to duplicate the effect
again.


He slipped his thumb under the envelope flap and began to tear it open. He looked down and
turned the envelope over before pulling his reprimand out.


Hermione stepped out through the patio window carrying a large tray with a pitcher of orange
juice and stacks of tall plastic beakers.


Leaving the girls to help themselves she rejoined Harry who was staring at the reprimand.


He reached out and took hold of her hand.


“What is it, Harry?”


He was unable to speak immediately. Instead he just waved the letter.


“Ah.”


“I get the impression that you’re feeling ready to get back to your books.”


“Really?” said Hermione innocently. “What gives you that idea?”


“Oh, the little signs, like, say, using my wand to charm the grass and tricking me into thinking
I did it.”


Hermione struggled to maintain a straight face.


“I’m sorry, Harry, but you must be mistaken. After all, you got the reprimand for that.”


“Actually, no I didn’t. I got my reprimand for trying to *remove* the charm.”


At that moment Victoria came over to say goodbye as she and her friends were going over to one
of the other’s houses.


Hermione slipped the sovereign into her hand and said, “Thanks. It really helped.”


“I don’t think it did,” Victoria replied shrewdly. “Is Harry always that gullible?”


“Most of the time, yes,” Hermione managed to say, laughing as Harry playfully tried to swipe her
with her sun hat.


Hermione walked the girls to the side gate and watched them safely across the square before
bolting the gate closed and returning to Harry.


“You didn’t get another one already?” she asked, seeing him reading another Ministry letter, the
earlier one at his side.


“No, this one was in the same envelope. I think I’ll frame this one.”


“Why?”


Harry offered Hermione’s reprimand to her.


“How did they know?” she asked, reading quickly. “Oh, well, never mind,” she added and began
screwing up the parchment.


“Hey!” cried Harry, grabbing it back. “I want this!”


“Why?” asked Hermione, laughing and wrestling Harry for the reprimand.


“Well, I did wonder if Ron might like it as a present.”


“No! You wouldn’t tell Ron about my reprimands would you? He’d be simply impossible, especially
after I told him off so many times!”


Harry laughed and rolled them back onto the groundsheet. They lay together quietly for a few
moments, Harry feeling quite lost in her eyes.


“It’s been a nice break, hasn’t it?”


“Yes, Harry. I didn’t realise how much I needed one.”


“Me too. Shame I didn’t manage to stay out of the papers, though.”


“Well, you can’t have everything. What did Kingsley want this morning? He went before I came
downstairs.”


“Well, he was kind enough to remove our sock mountain.”


Hermione snorted. She had noticed the pile that Harry had discretely placed out of sight behind
the side of the far shed had mysteriously vanished.


They had jokingly referred to the great pile of socks as a *mountain* even though the pile
barely reached the ground floor window sills. Harry spent an entire morning moving them and
searching for Hermione’s sock, although he hadn’t found it.


Harry had been terribly relieved that all the socks looked old and tattered. He had dreaded the
thought of the girl in the supermarket losing her socks after having so many problems buying them.
Thankfully, his summoning range could not have been that great after all.


“Then he took those things back to Julie Powell,” he added.


“The photograph and the other things?”


“Yes. It was your Mum’s idea that she should have them back. She said she must have got some
comfort from them to carry them around like that, so they may help her now as well.”


“That was nice. Maybe they will.”


“I suppose you’ll be wanting to draw up revision timetables now?”


“Actually, I did them this morning. I did one for Ron too,” she added, sitting up. “I need to go
and get ready. Mum and Dad are taking us to that posh restaurant in the City this evening.”


“We have *hours* yet, Hermione. Stay a while longer?”


“It’s alright for you,” she replied with a grin, “you don’t have to find an outfit to match your
*single* favourite sock!”


Harry laughed and pulled her down to him again.


“Thirty minutes,” she warned, “not a minute more.”


Harry wrapped his arms around her.


“Tell me about the others?,” Harry said, gently kissing her neck.


“What others, Harry?”


“You didn’t want me to tell Ron about your reprimands.”


“That was just a slip of the tongue.”


“I know. How many have you got?”


“None for ages, actually.”


“Oh.”


“But I got five before we took the train in our First Year. I didn’t even know I’d got them, but
Professor McGonagall argued that I couldn’t have been expected to know about the wizarding laws
then.”


“Five!”


“And then I got a couple more that Christmas. One of them was for trying to vanish the Ministry
letters I’d got before!”


Harry laughed and listened as Hermione recounted her transgressions which she clearly felt
guilty about but had hardly been very serious. In any event, they had ceased before the end of
their First Year, when, he recalled, they had received their letters warning them not to perform
magic outside school.


They were quiet for a moment as Hermione toyed with Harry’s hand. Harry lifted his head slightly
and propped himself up slightly with his free hand.


“Your parents are back,” he observed, seeing movement in the kitchen window.


Hermione immediately stiffened and said, “I didn’t hear them pull up.”


She kept her back towards the house but moved Harry’s hand down out of view.


“What?” asked Hermione in response to Harry’s grin.


He laughed silently before replying, “I think you’re a little ashamed of me.”


“Nonsense. It’s just that I’m a little uncomfortable sometimes. You don’t like it when your Aunt
and Uncle eavesdrop on our telephone conversations, do you?”


“No, but that’s hardly a fair comparison. Your parents *love* you. They just want you to be
happy and safe.”


“I know,” she said quietly, blushing slightly. “I just wish Mum wouldn’t keep spying on us,
though. I bet she’s looking at us now, isn’t she?” she added in a whisper.


“I can’t see.”


“I know when you’re lying!”


“No, I really can’t-” he began before Hermione began twisting his little finger.


“Ow!” Harry cried, laughing and finally admitting, “Well, maybe she is there.”


“See, I told you,” Hermione said, tenderly soothing his finger.


“I was going to suggest a way to stop her, if it bothers you so much.”


“How?”


“No, my finger isn’t well enough yet,” he replied playfully.


Hermione grabbed his ring finger and smirked at him.


“How about this one?”


“Okay! Okay!” he replied, sitting up and laughing.


“Erm, so do you want to give my idea a try?”


“I suppose. What is it?”


*


“Come away from the window,” pleaded Mr Granger.


“Shh,” she whispered, “they’ll hear you!”


“Give them some privacy.”


Mrs Granger remained crouched down, mostly hidden by the end of the kitchen base units but still
with an excellent view of the garden.


“Any moment now,” she breathed, clutching something Mr Granger couldn’t see in her hands.


“Come on, be reasonable,” asked Mr Granger. “That boy only has to sneeze and its headline news.
Harry’s more than earned our trust, not that you really deserve it right now.”


“Be quiet,” she hissed.


“In that case, I think I’ll take a walk around the garden,” said Mr Granger, getting up from the
table and making for the open patio window.


Mrs Granger shot him a dangerous look.


“When they find out what you’re up to,” warned Mr Granger.


“Harry already knows, I think,” replied Mrs Granger, advancing herself to the window and
silently slipping off her sandals for a stealth approach out onto the cool paving flags.


*


“Tell me, Harry,” demanded Hermione in a quiet undertone.


“I’d rather whisper it.”


Hermione leaned closer to listen but Harry held up his hand to stop her.


“Don’t look around, but your Mum is looking again. It might be best if she didn’t know we are on
to her. Sit up and face the fence so she can’t see your reaction when I tell you.”


“Um, okay.”


Harry lifted himself onto his hands and swung his legs under himself before moving on his knees
right next to Hermione. He looked up to see Hermione eyeing him quizzically.


He smiled and lent towards her, tilting his head and gently lifting her hair away from the side
of her head. As he moved his head towards hers, Harry noticed Hermione’s expression relax as she
closed her eyes.


Harry almost changed his mind, seeing Mrs Granger move catlike out onto the patio. However, as
soon as Hermione parted her lips slightly, everything except her went from his mind.


Harry closed his eyes and kissed her.


*Click!*


Neither Harry nor Hermione noticed the silent victory dance performed by Mrs Granger on the
bottom step of the patio before Mr Granger dragged her and her camera back into the house.


END