Disclaimer : Harry Potter is not mine, never will be! Thanks to JK Rowling for such wonderful and interesting characters.
A/N. This Chapter includes a Harry-Hermione moment that isn't in the versions found on other sites. This is Portkey after all, the haven for Harmony shippers.
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Chapter 30 - Unmasking the Cardinal
As the spinning motion of his surroundings finally came to a halt, Harry understood what Hermione meant. Ron's memory, certainly, made a lot of things make more sense.
The Ministry was right about her wand; she had not used it for months. Unable to perform any spells, Hermione had to leave the career she had worked so hard for and sought Ron's help because she could not finish Lumos without it.
Thinking back, he never saw Hermione use magic in any of Ron's memories. It was Ron who put the spell on Ritchie to protect him from Obliviation and it was Ron who revived Ritchie when he got Stunned. Ron always assumed that he would be doing everything magic-related, which now seemed odd considering she was always better at it than he was.
He no longer wondered why Ron acted the way he did. Ron was neither supportive nor enthusiastic when Hermione decided to resurrect Lumos after the Cardinal sent her those notes, knowing it would just add to her frustration of not being able to do any magic. It brought new meaning to Ron's and Ritchie's disapproval on their way to the warehouse after Hermione went off to challenge the Cardinal on her own, unwilling to wait; the gravity of the matter multiplied many times over because she would not have been able to defend herself at all. The night Dorner was murdered Ron even went to the extent of Petrifying her, believing she would insist on going to her apartment no matter what he said.
And for Harry, it finally killed the ugly green monster within him, recognizing that Hermione did not actually give up magic for Ritchie or for anyone else. At that time, she was no longer a witch. She had no choice but to live a Muggle life.
However, the memory contained a strong implication, a suggestion, which was causing significant distress and turmoil within him. It did not escape Harry how Hermione chose to tell Ron about her loss. Had it not been absolutely necessary, she would not have told Ron about their night together, or even mentioned him.
Hermione loved him, he left, and she had to let go. In the process, she lost her ability to do magic. She lost it because she chose not to wait for him any more, believing he did not care about her.
She lost the one thing that she loved doing the most and went through hell because of his lapse in common sense.
The conclusion he had arrived at about what she implied was not that hard to make and it made him even more irate at himself and more remorseful about leaving two years ago than he thought possible. Her implication was absolutely not accusatory and even though the memory ran out before he could confirm it, he believed her allusion to be true, more so because he was certain of the exact moment she got her magical ability back. He felt a bit foolish now, asking her to tell him in no uncertain words how she felt about him. Words, indeed, wouldn't be nearly enough to describe this.
Harry looked over to her and saw her concerned expression. This happened to her and she was worried about him? How could she not tell him about this? And why couldn't she?
Fighting off intense raw feelings trying to break through, he said to her, calmly, "That day, in that secure room at St. Mungo's, when you used my wand so we could talk in private, that was first time you had used magic in a long while."
He paused, holding her worried brown eyes hostage, needing her to confirm. They were seated close, faces not even two feet apart. It was impossible for them to hide any emotion from one another.
"Yes," her voice was barely audible.
She was visibly making an effort not to cry.
"How long? Five? Six months?"
"A hundred and eighty-six days," she admitted with reluctance. She likely noticed him wince as he tried to play out in his mind what each of her days would have been like. Seemingly knowing what he was thinking, she quickly added, "It may just be coincidence. If you really think about it, my losing and regaining it may have nothing to do with you at all."
"Both times?" he was skeptical.
"They could be," she said, not very convincingly.
It was obvious to Harry what she was doing. It was an effort to make him rethink the conclusion he had already arrived at.
"Do you think they were?" he asked her pointedly, knowing that she wouldn't lie to him.
"Even if they weren't, you shouldn't feel bad. It's not your fault. And I have it back, it doesn't mat…" she was interrupted.
"Hermione, you're doing it again. I just want to know what you think."
He heard her answer, "No, I don't think they were coincidences, but, I could be wrong."
While Hermione admitted she was not a hundred per cent sure, knowing her, she would have read and researched this thoroughly to back up what she thought, and would have done everything to be as close to being certain as she could get. At one point in the past she would have even listed down salient points for him. By saying less, Hermione was trying to prevent him from feeling worse. But how could he not?
It was bad enough that it happened but he was in more agony as her belief of what caused the loss of her magical ability fortified his own. In his mind, theirs were the only two opinions that really mattered.
Harry remembered what she said to him at her apartment the other night; she said she had just moved on and she couldn't go through it again, describing this as a most cruel fate she wouldn't wish on her worst enemy. This was what she went through the past six months; letting him go, accepting and living with the fact that she couldn't do magic anymore, and trying to figure out what to do with the rest of her life.
He could only imagine what that was like for her and he wanted to hear it in her own words, if she could tell him.
"What happened?" his voice was still, quiet, controlled, "Tell me everything."
She didn't want to answer, "It really doesn't matter, Harry. It's enough that you know I didn't give up magic for Ritchie. It's enough that you know how much I love you."
"Stop saying it doesn't matter because it matters to me. You matter to me."
He loved her and he wanted to know everything about her living nightmare.
"Harry…", she begged.
"Please," he pleaded back.
Finally, Hermione relented, having some difficulty keeping her composure, "After I decided to let you go, everyday was a constant battle keeping thoughts of you away. It seemed that they just wouldn't leave me alone. Memories of you were entwined in everything I did and do. I realized I couldn't imagine a past without you. And because you had left, I couldn't imagine a future with you. I just remember being so sad it had come to that. The memories stayed and the magic left instead."
"It first happened at the Ministry around the time I was wrapping up Lumos, sealing the report. The confidentiality spell worked on the first five pages and on the sixth one, it just didn't. I thought I was just tired and imagining things but within the same hour, I couldn't charm or transfigure anything, couldn't Apparate to my apartment, couldn't unlock my front door. It didn't take long. My wand was completely useless the day after."
She let out an amused laugh, "And just to add insult to injury, after I lost it all, I had so much time on my hands, I thought about you even more."
"At first I had myself convinced that this was a mere fluke, but I couldn't lie forever. I read articles and researches about loss of magic and talked to Tom, because he knew first hand what it was like. I saw specialists in Toronto, Sydney and Tokyo, who poked, prodded and tested, seemingly forever. It was not fun having to bare my soul to a bunch of strangers. All the ones known to have experienced this had a significant emotional upheaval of some sort. Aside from what I was trying to do about you, I couldn't come up with any other noteworthy personal disturbance in my life to explain it."
"There was no known spell or potion to cure it and the experts weren't optimistic about a recovery. At any rate, I wasn't waiting for anything anymore."
"You had to leave the Ministry and you needed Ron's help," Harry said.
For the most part he was content to just listen and let her tell her story, letting her fill in whatever blanks he had in the version he pieced together since his arrival.
She nodded, "To finish Lumos and my other minor projects. But with each passing day everyone and everything reminded me of what I couldn't do anymore, and not being able to do magic reminded me of you and of what we lost because of what I did."
"I was furious and had only myself to blame for the predicament I was in. With blame came the guilt. Then all I could be was sorry. Sorry that I offered you the potion, sorry that you left, sorry that I had let go, sorry that I lost what I lost and finally sorry for myself. I couldn't look past that to even think about what to do with the rest of my life. All I knew was that I had to get away from here as quickly and far away as I could."
Ginny had been right; she felt it was her fault.
"At that point, it was suffocating being around magic and I had a depression that was spiraling out of control. It felt like I was dying inside. Ron tried to help but he too reminded me of you and what I was sad about. He wanted me to stay at the Ministry, certain that Scrimgeour could use a Muggle on his staff. He just didn't understand why I couldn't stay."
"Two months ago, Ron and I finally finished my projects. I was about to leave and go where there would be no reminders of us, hoping that would help me move on. Then I got those notes from the Cardinal."
"You had to stay."
Hermione buried her face in her hands and through muffled crying Harry heard her say, "All those people, dead because of me. I couldn't leave because of the murders. But I couldn't do anything either. I was just so incompetent, so powerless to stop the homicidal monster I helped create…"
Harry sat beside her and she leaned against him as he put his arm around her shoulders, stroking her hair. He could imagine how her frustration of not being able to perform magic grew worse. Hermione's appearance in Ron's memory two months ago on that day she showed him the Cardinal's notes was telling of when she was likely at her lowest low. She was gaunt, having lost a lot of weight and looked even more sleep deprived than she was in the memory he just saw. Her last contribution to magic was being used to murder. That would certainly give her sleepless nights and if she did not get involved to resolve it, it would do that eternally.
She moved back and turned towards him slightly as she stopped sobbing so she could look at him as she continued.
"It was Ritchie who persuaded me to stop feeling sorry for myself long enough to realize that I could conceivably live the rest of my life without magic. It helped that he's a Muggle and he got through me by loving me unconditionally, despite knowing I didn't feel the same way about him. He found me the job at the bookstore, helped me pick out the course at the University and more importantly, convinced Ron not to fight the process. I would have stayed with him had you not come back because if I was ever capable of falling in love with anyone else it was going to be with him."
Harry began to understand what Ritchie did for her. Ron, the one person she trusted with this secret at that time, would have been ill equipped to help her considering he lived with magic all his life. Worse, Ron, reminded her of him and of what she could not do. Ritchie came into her life in her darkest hour and did what Ron couldn't; help her survive and fight the awful events that Harry's leaving and staying away caused to happen.
"That day at St. Mungo's when you came back, there was no denying I still loved you. But I wanted you to leave, not only because I couldn't risk the possibility of you being hurt like Ron did, but more so because I didn't think I could live through that again."
Hermione fell silent after that but her last words hung in the air and stung him. It was too late. She had experienced it and he could not change the past. He was livid at himself for playing a part in all this. Granting that there was no point in finding fault and gauging who bore the graver of errors, he could not help but think how something simple, like a note from him, could have avoided everything. Just one of those crumpled unsent letters in the bottom drawer of his desk in New York could have made a huge difference. Just one.
Harry took her hands in his and looked at her with more tears in his eyes, so many thoughts swimming in his mind and he did not know where to begin. A voice from within him was asking, how could she look at him and not be revolted? Surely, he reminded her of what she went through.
Hermione had been watching Harry since he came out of Ron's memory and he was responding to the memory just as she expected he would. Guilt, remorse, anger, pity. And that last one, what was that? That one she did not anticipate.
And now, he was looking at her with that expression. No, she would not allow him to wallow as she did.
"Harry, don't."
"Don't what?"
"Don't look at me like that."
"Like what?"
"Like I'm the most unfortunate person to ever walk on earth. You have the same woeful look Ron had each time he spoke to me until I threatened to stop seeing him altogether if he couldn't wipe it off his face," Hermione replied, as firm and as clear as she could possibly be. "If I wanted people to feel sad for me I would have told everyone I knew about it."
"I can't help feeling the way I feel. Was that why you were avoiding Ginny?" Harry asked her.
"At that time, I couldn't afford to let anyone else make me feel more sorry for myself than I already was," she explained.
It would have pushed her over the edge.
"Ginny could have helped."
She expected Ginny would share that opinion. Hermione had thought it through when she made the decision and she disagreed.
"I couldn't imagine how, seeing that Ron tried and couldn't," she answered, thinking Ginny would have rallied others to get involved and she really couldn't handle the circus. "The fussing from Ginny would have just made it more unbearable."
"I'm so sorry."
Somehow, she had to make him stop.
"It wasn't you fault, Harry."
"That's debatable. I should have stayed. I should have come back sooner."
"But you didn't. I should have told you about Ron and about how I felt. But I didn't," she stressed her regrets about what happened two years ago. Then she told him what she finally concluded to be able to move on. "It's done. There's nothing we can do about that. There's no point dwelling on something we can't change."
"You lost everything because of it!"
"Not everything; just my ability to do magic and the job I needed it for. It's in the past. I have it back," Hermione tried to put things in perspective, "I know what you're going through. I went through the exact same emotions myself when I finally accepted why I lost it. But you shouldn't feel that way."
"Why shouldn't I?"
"Because you have nothing to gain. Tell me how the guilt or pity you're feeling right now is a good thing? I needed to go through them to move on. They are absolutely of no use to you except make you feel miserable."
"I am responsible so I should at least feel miserable."
Hermione tried to reason with him, "You couldn't possibly have envisioned this. You left because you thought it was the right thing to do. It was never your intention so stop blaming yourself for what happened to me."
Harry didn't answer, maybe the idea of him not being at fault was starting to take root.
He asked her instead, "Was this why you didn't want to tell me? So I wouldn't feel guilt or be sorry for what horrors you went through?"
"Ron never did understand and by giving you the phial, Ritchie proved he didn't really get it either," she said and wondered what she would have done had Harry come tonight having already seen the memory.
He insisted, "Try me. I may not agree but I just want to hear why keeping this a secret was more important to you than us being together."
Hermione explained, "I've known you for most of my life. When bad things happen to people around you and people you care about, you almost always feel responsible and immediately conclude that it's your fault."
"What do you mean?"
"I witnessed what you went through with Cedric, Sirius, and Professor Dumbledore. If I, your best friend, told you I utterly and hopelessly loved you, lost my magical ability when I lost you, you, being you, would blame yourself like right now, and feel what you're feeling right now."
"So, yes. I didn't want to tell you because you were the last person on earth I would want to feel guilty about it, be miserable for no good reason and pity me. It made even more sense not to tell you when I got it back. There was just no point, especially when it seemed you would rather not be saddled with a baggaged version of me. But I would be lying if I said it was all about you," she admitted. "I wanted to keep the truth away from you, mostly for me."
Hermione could see Harry was struggling to follow what she was getting at.
"I did it for the same reason I didn't wake you that morning two years ago."
"You wanted to know how I really felt about you?" his tone laced with frustration. "You could have just asked me. What's wrong with asking me?"
"I couldn't. Had you known about this all along and I asked you how you felt about me, either way I would have found your answer difficult to live with," Hermione was trying her best to explain.
"You were concerned that I would say I didn't want to be with you?" he asked her.
Hermione replied, "A rejection would have been devastating, but no, I couldn't imagine ever hearing that from you. I was more concerned that you would say you did want to be with me and that I would never know why."
She continued, "If I told you I would have speculated forever if you really loved me, or merely felt sorry for me, like it was your duty, that you had to repay me for some sort of debt for my going through all that. I didn't want to see this look of sadness and sympathy in your eyes and wonder if this is the reason why you hug me, kiss me, bring me flowers, make love to me, marry me and have children with me. I'd rather we weren't together if it was going to be a lifetime of that."
"Until I realized you were so unsure about how I felt about you, it was my every intention not to let you know, so I wouldn't ever have to face the possibility of that imperfection between us. I love you, Harry, and I want to be with you. But what I desperately needed was for you to be certain that you want to be with me and come to that conclusion on your own, without having to deal with all these emotions you have about what happened to me. And I'm relieved you did."
She waited, as she searched for some hint of understanding from him, finally seeing the tension from his face subside and the perplexity in his eyes disappear. He pulled her towards him and they embraced for quite some time.
"I guess, in a way, you wanted to make sure you were not going to be my lost cause, either," Harry replied without moving away, alluding to the fact that he had thought he was hers. "Had I known this insecurity of yours about how I feel could cause us so much trouble I would have just told you how I felt that day at Madame Puddifoot's."
They had a laugh about that. She made a mental note for them to talk about that some other time.
He looked into her eyes and said, wistfully "You do realize that I may not be able to stop feeling guilty about your one hundred and eighty-six days without magic and you may still have a lifetime of me looking at you this way."
She appreciated that he actually remembered the number. Truly, she still wished she didn't have to tell him, but it was a compromise that she could live with.
"It helps knowing that your choice to be with me right now isn't about what happened. I figured, if I could stop feeling sorry for myself you could do the same eventually. And if you can't, then you can't."
It was one of those unknowns she couldn't really think about right now.
Then he asked, "How can you look at me and not hate me?
"I can't hate you, it wasn't your fault," she guessed it would take some time for that to sink in.
"Don't I remind you of what you went through?"
So, that was what he was thinking about, what she didn't expect. The truth of the matter was he did remind her of it, but now knowing without a doubt that he loved her made a big difference in how she viewed her horrific experience.
"I do remember, Harry, and remembering what I went through makes me cherish every moment that we're together even more."
On those words, Harry leaned over and kissed her, sweet and deep, signaling his acceptance of what had transpired and their new beginning. She replied in kind, tasting and imbibing all the wonderful emotions he had for her and wanted her to know, feeling his love search and quash any residual pockets of pain and misgivings about what had occurred between them, fervently hoping that he was feeling the same.
It did not take long for their kiss to become one of yearning and utmost need. His every touch seared through her nightgown, and as their bodies strained against each other, trying to eliminate what little space there was between them, she knew for a fact that his longing was as potent as hers.
At the first opportunity to break their passionate kiss, she stood in front of him, their breaths laboured, eyes drunken and ablaze with desire only for each other. Slowly, she slipped off the little she had on and watched him as his eyes wandered all over her, allowing him to see her fully uncovered. There was nothing about her that she wanted hidden from him ever again.
Soon after, Harry joined her, a mere shaving of air separating them; the intense heat from his body radiating as he took off his shirt and his trousers. As she suspected from their unbridled physical tryst at her apartment the night before, he had changed in the two years he was away, becoming even more physically attractive, at least to her. Their bodies brushed lightly as he walked around and paused right behind her, not yet touching but so near she could feel his fully aroused state through his black boxers, which he chose to leave on for now. She closed her eyes, trying to picture what he was doing, feeling his piercing gaze bathe her, anticipating what he was going to do, thinking if it was not going to be soon she would burst.
"You're so beautiful," he whispered into her left ear, his warm breath glancing over her skin where the words fell, sending a trail of enjoyable shivers down her spine. As his lips started nibbling her ear, on instinct she leaned back and craned her neck to allow him better access. A strong warm hand pulled her in tighter to his frame, her back feeling his muscles tense up as his mouth gently grazed the length of the side of her neck while a hand cradled one of her pert breasts, its fingers rubbing her highly sensitive nipple. She could only moan in pleasure as his other hand began to explore, stroke and caress every other part of her, seemingly intentionally avoiding the one place she wanted him to touch.
Unable to contain her own desire, she turned and pressed up against him, the feel of his taunt muscles and bare skin on hers evoking senses she never thought she had. She took his roving hand and led it to touch her in the one place he had not yet done so. Sounds of delight escaped from within her, savouring the titillating sensations as he finally fondled her there with tenderness.
He grinned, "A little impatient, are we?"
"Tease," she accused him as she found his mouth with hers, his tongue immediately meeting hers halfway.
Recognizing his unreasonable advantage, her fingers worked on getting rid of the last piece of garment between them.
"Not yet," he murmured against her lips, one of his hands on hers, preventing her from completing the task, at least trying to. "Not until you're ready. It's been so long, I can't be responsible..."
His voice trailed off as she persisted and finally succeeded, unfairly magically causing the offending piece to disappear. She couldn't help a smile. How could she think he was just shy?
Typical Harry, so considerate.
"Stop worrying about me," she tried to reassure him, then added impishly, her lips brushing against his as she spoke, "And whatever you do, I promise not to hold it against you. You have total absolution, at least for the next 24 hours."
"You might just regret you said that," he said, meeting her gaze.
"Stop talking and make me," she challenged.
As if that was what Harry was waiting for, he smooched her mindless and laid her on the bed a few feet away. To Hermione's surprise, he was not done. He continued to kiss and caress every inch of her nakedness, her body writhing under him with his every touch, involuntary incomprehensive sounds escaping her throat every now and then, certain she was being set on fire. Barely managing to perform a discrete nonverbal contraceptive spell, she had totally lost all control; her every action and every deed now purely instinctive.
"Harry…please…" she moaned softly into his ear, stroking him, imploring him to fulfill the immense longing that he had stirred up from within her.
Hearing this, Harry seemed persuaded at last that Hermione was ready for him. Hermione obligingly made room, opening herself up as he slid in between her legs. She welcomed him in her moist inner space, his every thrust harder and deeper than the preceding one, touching her where no one but him had ever before. His intense expression matched his quickening pace and she allowed herself to bask in the emerald sea of his affectionate and loving eyes, until infinite gratifying vibrations exploded throughout her entire being, perpetuating, as she heard him adoringly say her name the same time he peaked and filled her inside with his warmth, completely!
There were tears of happiness in both as they held each other and kissed, both preferring to stay in the intimate connection they were in as long as they could. All she could think of at that instant was that it was definitely a moment she would treasure forever.
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Ritchie's blue Saab pulled into a parking space a few meters from the Saint Lamb Homes Foundation building. He looked at his watch. 8:28.
He was finally discharged from the hospital around five in the morning following a sedative induced rest. After retrieving his car from near the Screeching Moon, he went home, took a shower, and received a message from the Yard. There was nothing suspicious about how the Goodriches passed away and there was no record of any Theresa Lane.
Maybe Lane was fictitious. Or maybe someone magical. He would need Harry or one of the Aurors to check that out.
He took the fisherman's hat he had on the passenger's seat, wore it, and looked at himself on the rear view mirror. Ritchie never fished a day in his life. An expletive escaped his mouth in the same breath as 'Harry Potter'.
Taking a sip from the cup of inferior java he bought at a local café, it reminded him of her and how they were never going to have early morning talks over coffee. He resisted the urge to call her. He had already taken a couple of painkillers that morning and while that had done wonders for his bodily aches, the one inside his chest was as raw as it was last night as it finally sunk in that she would never be his.
As he walked from his car to a better vantage point, he saw a few cloaked figures exit the Foundation, two broke off and walked towards him. The rest went into an alley and likely Disapparated. He immediately recognized Tonks and Melissa; both had grave expressions.
"Whoa!" Tonks couldn't hide her surprise at what she saw, "What happened? Did a truck run you over?"
"Sounds like a good excuse to me," he replied, deciding that was what he was going to tell Jane when she asked, though that might not explain everything. He diverted the conversation to the case at hand, thankful that Jane had nullified that magical contract he signed two months ago. "What's going on?"
Melissa answered, "Cleaning witch found Gomez dead this morning."
"Greed?"
Both nodded. Jane was right. If Ron survived last night, Gomez was likely the family the Cardinal was referring to. This was not good in many levels. It meant that Cardinal was now solo, had likely lost a few more screws, gone way over the edge, and was just two deaths shy of completing the set. It meant that there was one less finger that could help point them in the right direction.
"Surveillance?" he inquired, knowing Kingsley sent someone after the meeting.
"Flint took the shift last night. All was quiet when he arrived at eleven and was first on the scene when the witch started wailing at seven," Tonks shared the information with him.
Melissa postulated, "It must have happened after you left and before Flint arrived."
Great. One of the individuals he saw last night was probably Gomez and the other was the Cardinal. Did that mean he actually owed Harry his life for calling him at the exact moment he was about to barge in on them? The thought was leaving a very bad taste in his mouth.
"I'm guessing the place is clean," Ritchie knew that the Cardinal was trying to get rid of evidence that would reveal identity.
"Totally empty, as if nobody had used the property for decades," Tonks answered, "Except..."
Tonks took from within her cloak an evidence bag containing a small, circular, patch-like device with a concavity at its centre and held it up.
"What's that?" Ritchie asked, thinking it looked like an eye patch, with a Velcro strap.
She tossed the bag over to Melissa to examine.
"It was concealed. I found it clasped tightly around Gomez's left hand. So, what is it?" she challenged her trainee.
Melissa seemed stumped and baffled, finally saying "I don't know."
Tonks replied, "I guess they don't teach this at the Academy anymore. It was way before your time; actually, way before mine. Hold the hollow part up against your throat and talk."
Melissa did as Tonks instructed and asked, "What do you want me to say?"
Ritchie's eyes widened as he heard a chilling voice that, since two weeks ago, sometimes haunted him in his sleep.
He coached her, "Say, 'You will regret this'."
She did and it confirmed his suspicion.
"Voldemort."
Tonks explained as she took the bag back from Melissa, "It's a voice altering device. When Voldemort first disappeared years ago after trying to kill Harry when he was a child, the Aurors needed a lot of help to flush out Death Eaters who were pretending to have been Imperiused. It had lost its anonymity and became a liability after an Auror using it was killed."
"So really, that person, who we presume is Didler, that you encountered at the warehouse, could have been a man, a woman, old, young, or anyone; could have been us," Tonks opined. "But whoever it was, it was definitely someone familiar to Ron and Hermione to go through all lengths to put up a disguise."
"Interesting," was all Ritchie could say.
He wondered if they missed any potential evidence in the two weeks that they narrowed their search to a bloke. If the Cardinal was a woman, voice alteration was actually quite ingenious.
"One a day. At this rate, Harry, within forty-eight hours," Melissa calculated. "If he's with Hermione, I hope he's been practicing."
Ritchie doubted that very much.
Tonks had a knowing smile on her face, "I'm sure he's doing what he's supposed to be doing."
He pondered which one Harry would get of the two remaining curses, anger or lust. From what he knew about him and from personal experience, his money was on the former.
"Any clues as to who the next victim will be?"
Melissa showed him a piece of parchment. On it was one word.
FRIEND
Tonks said, "You'd think a lunatic like that wouldn't have friends."
"This friend does not have much time. Any more leads on Didler?" Melissa asked.
Ritchie shook his head. After Dean's appointment book disappeared yesterday, Jane had suggested that it was better for Neville's impending list to remain known only to five people: Jane, Harry, himself, Neville and Professor McGonagall. That was to protect Neville and his students, all of whom would be in grave danger at least until the list actually existed. And Jane had not yet had the opportunity to sort out Dean's memory since the incident last night.
His eyes watered in pain as he suddenly let out an involuntary sneeze. Both witches felt terrible for him, prompting Tonks to ask.
"Are you waiting for Hermione to fix you up, because Melissa can do it, too? She's our resident mediwizard," then noticing his skepticism, added, "She is, really."
Actually, it was an offer he could not refuse. Going through what he endured last night made him regret his decision to not let Harry do his thing and he would rather not have Jane see him like this.
Before proceeding Melissa asked, "What about the…um…hair?"
Tonks jested, "It's a lovely shade of magenta. You may want to keep it. This was Harry's handiwork, wasn't it?"
Ritchie had this fixed fake smile on his face. He prided himself to be an excellent judge of character but this time he was so wrong. He found out quite unexpectedly at 2am at the East London General Hospital Emergency Room through a reflection of his image that when sufficiently provoked, it wasn't beneath Harry Potter to jinx a mere Muggle like him.
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Around the same time, Hermione woke up in the arms of the man she loved. She turned to face Harry and watched him sleep for a couple of minutes before finally getting up. By the time she had showered and dressed half an hour later he was still sound asleep.
A slightly embarrassed smile formed on her lips as she remembered the last time he woke her up. It must have been close to six o'clock and wherever it came from it was amazing that they, well mostly he, had the energy to make love a third time.
"Harry?" she knew he was still awake.
"Yes, luv?" he acknowledged opening his eyes to meet her questioning stare.
"It's not in any way a complaint but how…do you…," she didn't quite know how to ask the question. "When you said it's been a while, how long exactly has it been since you last slept with another woman?"
"You don't really want to know," he replied.
"No," she said incredulously when she realized what he was getting at.
"Yes."
"Really?"
"Really, though it wasn't for lack of trying."
She said to him jokingly, throwing a pillow at his face, "I can't believe you're making me feel guilty!"
He was laughing, and caught the pillow just before it hit him "Hey, you asked the question! I'll make you a deal. You can stop feeling guilty about it after I stop feeling guilty about what happened to you."
She was fine with that, him joking about it, tastefully; anything to help make him get over it.
"But that's not much of a deal!"
They kissed each other back to sleep.
She was expecting Neville's list today and because she was still a fugitive she had asked him to have it delivered to Harry. At some point during the early morning they did get a chance to talk about the case, sharing what they found out and what they thought. To her it was almost a certainty that the Cardinal was Didler. She looked at the faded Ministry picture of Gomez with the foster children he took to a Ministry function a while back. She found it difficult to imagine that one of the innocent faces on it could be a murderer.
Hermione put the picture back in Harry's cloak pocket and as she was about to leave, she kissed him. He stirred but must have been so tired he did not wake up. She was on her way to St. Mungo's to see Ron and see if Ginny was back. She couldn't stop smiling.
XXXXXXXXXX
The Cardinal was on time for the meeting at Number 12 Grimmauld Place last night and was quite relieved that Granger had survived the Dementors and the Tunnel. However, there was a bit of startling news.
Granger and company had figured out the Gomez connection to the Saint Lamb Homes Foundation. That in itself was not a surprise because it was plainly visible on Gomez' Ministry charts and explicitly connected to T.M.Didler. However, there had been no surveillance assignments coming from Shacklebolt last night and there was no concern meeting a reluctant Gomez there. What was unexpected was that the Tilly had been doing some extracurricular snooping of his own and had almost walked in on them. Sometimes it was good to be lucky. That would have been most unfortunate for him.
Seeing Gomez's lifeless body that morning with the other Aurors was a bit unnerving and brought back what happened last night.
"Miguel, I'm afraid I don't have much time to discuss this. This is not a negotiation," the Cardinal said, looking at a timepiece on the office wall.
"But I raised you as if you were my own," Gomez was pleading, trying to reason out.
"I doubt that if I were your own you would have allowed Lowes to teach me how to murder and asked me to kill all those Muggles and Dorner," bitterness filled the air.
"That was my mistake. I failed you as a parent."
"A mistake?" the Cardinal laughed sardonically. "And everyone makes mistakes, right?"
"I'm sorry, Terry. Your Mum was a sweet and gentle soul who cared about life and about people. She would be more forgiving," Gomez was begging for understanding.
"Stop calling me that! I know what you're trying to do. It's not going to work."
"You're a good person," Gomez seemed to want to believe it, too.
"You have no idea what doing those curses over and over again did to me!"
"You can go back to who you were before. No one has to know you did this."
"I will! And very soon everyone else will! You panicked and sold me out! I know you released your Ministry files to Kingsley."
"It was an error…we can still fix this…there is time," Gomez sputtered, obviously making up something out of nothing, "We…we can find another T.M. Didler for them to chase after…"
Gomez was foolishly reaching for his wand but he was not quick enough. Didler blocked a stunning spell, then briefly allowed Gomez to do what he could to save his pathetic existence.
In a rush, Didler with finality pointed a wand to Gomez, his death quite intended and his life of greed in mind, said as the horror in Gomez's eyes changed to acceptance, "Utile Avaritia!"
As the green flash of light hit him, the Cardinal, as with previous victims, could see and hear Gomez's thoughts as he was going to go through them. His mind filled with racing, garbled views about becoming Minister for Magic, Minister for all of Europe, Magical Leader of the rest of the World…having unimaginable power and wealth…hunger filled his entire being…desiring it…wanting it so much it ached…his chest was tightening…excruciating, tormenting, consuming pain…it was necessary to live…imperative to possess it…to make this violent pain go away…a thought of his heart being on fire and exploding…then non-existence…
Last night, a few tears fell onto Gomez's body as Didler shoved a piece of parchment into his cloak pocket. He was the one constant that bridged the Cardinal's life from childhood to present and now, he was dead.
On the way out, all records contained within the edifice were expunged. It was unfortunate that Aurors found the voice alteration device. But it was only a matter of time before Granger found out who T.M.Didler was and there would be no need for disguises anymore. Didler was in a race to murder numbers six and seven and put away Granger before she could unmask the Cardinal. And the next person on the Cardinal list had just made contact to meet.
But before that, Granger needed a lookout while performing the healing spell and the Cardinal had volunteered.
XXXXXXXXXX
Harry woke up close to eleven a.m. It was a good thing he did not have to report to the Ministry today, so he and Hermione could start working on the curses. With his eyes still closed, her smell, her feel and her voice buzzed him senseless. He couldn't stop smiling. He reached over to where he last felt her and came up with air.
The bedroom was empty and the place felt the same. He thought about the events of yesterday and last night, lingering on Ron's memory and how it could have actually ruined everything for her had he looked at it before coming over. He could relate to that; being with someone, have them look at you and wonder if they were with you only because you suffered so much as a child, because you had an evil wizard out to kill you or because you were famous.
Grabbing a sheet to cover him up, he walked out onto the living area. No sign of Hermione. His heart skipped a beat as he noticed a cup on the counter with a note pinned under it.
Not again.
Harry,
I guess you're absolutely beat. I couldn't wake you. I'm on my way to see Ron and hopefully Ginny. Call me when you wake up. By the way, relax. It's only coffee.
Love,
H
He laughed at his initial reaction, imagining she was too as she wrote the last part of her note. He was actually contemplating if he should convince Hermione to always wake him if she needed to leave, and never, ever leave him notes on the kitchen counter. Or maybe, he'll get over the bad taste of that first one. Now, where did he leave his phone?
As Harry searched his clothes on the bedroom floor, someone started knocking on the door. He quickly dressed, suspecting that it was Ritchie, not wanting him to think he was gloating.
Ritchie walked in, looking a lot more normal than when Harry left him at the hospital.
He asked, "Where is she?"
"With Ron or Ginny. I was about to call her. Do you want some coffee? She made a pot," Harry offered and felt an abruptness in Ritchie's refusal.
"Let's get her on the phone. Gomez is dead."
Ritchie told him what Tonks and Melissa told him, including the voice altering device found on Gomez, as Harry tried to get her on the phone. It was ringing.
"Who fixed you up?" Harry couldn't contain his curiosity, quite impressed.
Ritchie told him, "She's pretty good, apparently comes from a family of healers. I guess Jane had to re-do yours."
Hermione was not answering. The phone indicated that she was still at St. Mungo's. He was about to try again when a barn owl swooped into the room through the small kitchen window and headed for Harry. It was the list from Neville.
Neither spoke a word as Harry sat at the kitchen table with Ritchie after the owl left. Harry opened Neville's list containing the names of the first years from 1994 without matching admission letters. There were eighteen names, most of them quite familiar to Harry.
He summoned the yearbooks from the bedroom, too late to realize that Ritchie saw the evidence of their frenzied lovemaking through the open doors.
"Sorry," was all he could he say.
"Look, I'm not fine, but I'll be," Ritchie replied of their awkward situation, then opened the yearbook from when Didler would have been a 1st year.
Neville's list was arranged by houses. First on it were Gryffindors, followed by Ravenclaws, Slytherins and Hufflepuffs. They went through it one by one, matching each name on the list with the ones on each of the yearbooks, both of them trying to look for something, anything, suggestive or suspicious.
Harry was about to give up when the second to the last name on Neville's list jumped out at him. His pulse quickened as he took from his pocket the faded picture of Gomez posing with foster children that he got from the Ministry Social Functions Office, flipped the yearbook hastily to the page with that person's first year picture.
"It can't be," Ritchie said in disbelief as he saw the similarity that Harry had seen as well. Harry, too, was in disbelief.
Visibly upset at himself after realizing what he missed, he said to Ritchie, "And we had Didler's current alias all along!"
He wrote something out in the air with his wand.
SAINT LAMB HOMES
With a flick of his wrist, the letters rearranged themselves and revealed almost the exact same name of the first year on the yearbook and on Neville's list. St. Mungo would be rolling in his grave had he known that his name, though rightfully belonging to the Cardinal by blood, would be connected to such gruesome atrocities against society.