Hall of Records
Harry looked up as Ginny walked into the office. She looked a little put off, but she forced a smile and sat down at Hermione's desk. Harry could see her out of the corner of his eye and she seemed to be busying herself with paperwork. He knew she would be cold and distant as long as he didn't acknowledge her. The pansy in him wanted to just that, but as the leader, he was responsible for his team, and that meant keeping them pacified.
"Are you mad about something?" Harry asked as he turned to her. Ginny looked up from her paperwork, slightly startled.
"No," Ginny lied. Harry couldn't help but smile. Ginny was a terrible liar. They both were. That was probably one of their greatest downfalls as a couple. She had asked him if he loved her. He had said yes, but he wasn't in love with her. Not the way she meant. He was fond of her, greatly fond of her, but there was more to a relationship than fooling around and loving her. Aside from Quidditch and a few other things, they had little in common and little to talk about.
"Ginny," Harry said as he raised his eyebrows at her. She rolled her eyes.
"Its only, you could have woke me up before you left," Ginny stated. "I was trying to come and talk to you last night, nothing else."
"Nothing else?" Harry challenged. Ginny blushed and smiled.
"Harry, you know I won't lie to you," Ginny said as she touched her collar. Harry's eyes instinctively went to her fingers, seeing a rather healthy amount of her cleavage peaking from the shirt. He pulled his eyes back to her face.
"I know," Harry replied.
"The offer always stands," Ginny said shrugging. Nothing more needed to be said between them. They had known each other long enough and quite intimately enough to know exactly what that meant. Harry shook his head slightly with an apologetic look on his face.
"I am so sorry I am late," Ron said breathlessly as he ran into the room. He sat down at desk and began searching through his bag for something. "Rebecca didn't wake me on her way out this morning."
"There seems to be a lot of that going on," Ginny grumbled as she turned back to her files. Ron looked at Harry pointedly, but Harry just shrugged before he too turned back to his own paperwork.
"So, when do you think Hermione will be coming back?" Ron whispered as he threw a glance in Ginny's direction. Ginny was working away at a huge stack of papers and didn't seem to hear him. Harry shrugged.
"I can ask about her when I ask Shacklebolt about a case he sent me on," Harry whispered back. He glanced at Ginny, who seemed to have paused in the middle of writing. She still had her back to them, but Ron glanced at Harry in a way that they both knew that she was hearing them. "I'll be back in a little while, ok?"
"Yeah, man, no problem," Ron said. "I'll keep Ginny in check."
"Hey, Gin?" Harry said. Ginny turned and looked at him.
"Yes?" She said almost hopefully.
"Oh, keep Ron in check while I am gone," Harry said as he retrieved the letter from his top drawer and placed it in his pocket. Ginny rolled her eyes and turned back to her work. Harry glanced at Ron before he headed out of the office.
Thankfully, it seemed like the elevators were working just fine and Harry was thankful he didn't have to climb all of those flights. He didn't want to be huffing and puffing in Shacklebolt's office as he questioned him about his daughter. The doors slid open to an empty car and Harry quickly got onto it. He glanced at the button for the floor that Kingsley Shacklebolt's office was on, but instead of mashing it, he hesitated.
The Hall of Records seemed like a better place to go. Harry pressed the button for the ground floor and with a jolt, the elevator car started descending to the ground floor of the ministry. The door slid open soundlessly and Harry climbed out of the elevator. He saw the huge doors that led to the Hall of Records and headed toward them, stopping just to wave at a random colleague.
"Harry!" A voice called from behind him. Groaning, Harry turned to see Neville coming towards him. Harry waved back and waited for Neville to catch up with him.
"Hello, Neville, how are things in the research department?" Harry asked casually. Neville scowled.
"We just can't manage to hang on to our interns!" Neville said with mild amusement. Harry raised an eyebrow at them.
"You aren't getting them eaten by anything sinister, are you?" Harry asked. Neville grinned.
"It is, after all, the research department," Neville teased. He shifted the box he was holding on to his other hip.
"What's that?" Harry asked curiously. Neville glanced around and then signaled for Harry to come closer and take a peak. The box contained a ball, perfectly round and the color of tarnished silver; it was cuddled among some towels.
"It is our newest little disaster, I fear," Neville said as he shut the box. He shrugged.
"What is it?" Harry asked. Neville shook his head.
"You know, I can't tell you. God, if Mott even knew I showed you he'd have my head. You know how secretive we get in our little departments," Neville said rolling his eyes. Harry had to laugh. If Neville had it, it couldn't be that much of a secret. He hadn't been able to keep track of the passwords in their third year. He knew that they would never trust him with something that was a dire secret.
"Yeah, I know how it is," Harry said as he inched toward the Hall of Records door. Neville took his hint and waved him off before Harry could say another word.
"You have to come by and see the place Luna and I have downtown," Neville shouted as he stepped onto the elevator. Harry rolled his eyes, but smiled. Neville and Luna were probably the two strangest, yet sweetest people he knew.
Harry pushed the doors open to the Hall of Records, kind of expecting that it would look like the library at Hogwarts, full of huge, dusty bound books and a crotchety old caretaker. He hesitated as he stood just inside the doors, looking around. The place wasn't dark and dusty, as he had expected. Tons of natural light poured in through skylights and there were rows of desks and lots of happy looking witches and wizards running here and there.
"Can I help you?" A woman's voice pulled Harry from his thoughts. Harry turned to see a witch, probably ten years older than him standing there with a clipboard and quill in his hand. She was smiling at him, but her smile did not seem to continue up to her gray eyes.
"Yes, I was looking for some information," Harry said suddenly nervous. He wiped his sweaty palms on his pants. She looked at him blankly, that same polite smile plastered on her face.
"This would be a good place to start looking for information," she stated plainly. She looked down on her clipboard. "Do you have an appointment?"
"I am from the Auror's office," Harry said weakly. She smiled again at him, almost though she pitied him slightly.
"I gathered that from your badge, Mr. Potter," She said referring to his badge he had swinging from a lanyard around his neck. Harry looked down at it momentarily, before looking up at her again. "You have to make an appointment so that we can have a clerk at you beck and call, Mr. Potter."
"Well, I don't have an appointment," Harry said quietly. "I don't really need someone to sit and watch me do my research."
"Sorry, it is department protocol," she said though she really sounded like she was rather enjoying telling him so and not sorry at all.
"I just have to look up one fact," Harry protested.
"I can make you an appointment," she said. She sounded like she was forcing the niceties but that she really was loosing her patience with the raven-haired wizard that stood before her.
"You can't make an exception? For me?" Harry said in a rather sick-sounding sugary voice. She made a face and smiled.
"Just as I am sure that the Aurors have their policies and procedures, so do us lowly record keepers," she said. Her voice dripped with loathing for the Aurors and Harry knew that he wasn't going to get anywhere with her. "So, how about that appointment?"
"Sure," Harry sighed. She pulled out her wand, placing the clipboard on the counter behind her. She drew what seemed to be an invisible box in the air and proceeded to flick her wand as if flipping pages.
"I can do three weeks from today at nine thirty with Draco," she said. She raised an eyebrow at him to see if he would protest.
"Do you not have one soon, preferably with someone other than Draco?" Harry asked hopefully. She didn't even smile.
"Take it or leave it, Mr. Potter. We are very busy, and if you do not show for your appointment, you will have a three year ban to the department," she said with annoyance evident in her voice.
"Three years? Isn't that harsh?" Harry asked.
"No," she said flatly. "It was seven, but the ministry made us shorten it. So do you want the appointment or not?"
"Yes, sure, please," Harry said as politely as he could muster. He rolled his eyes while the witch wrote in what seemed to be thin air his name and badge number. "So this is it? This is the only way to go about getting the information I need?"
"Unless Shacklebolt himself gives you permission, yes, I am the final word," she said with that same pathetic fake smile. She guided him out the door and closed it on his face. Harry stood at the door for a minute.
"What a witch," he murmured. He laughed to himself and waited for the elevator. This time, the elevator was brimming with witches, wizards, and memos. It was quite claustrophobic in there. At each stop, people would either get on or get off, and Harry was quite certain that they had already met their weight load after the third portly witch had climbed aboard.
Harry stepped off the elevator and took a deep breath. He felt like he had been holding his breath the entire ride and his chest burned a bit. Coughing a moment, he waited a moment. He tried to convince himself it was because of his inability to breathe freely on the elevator and that it had nothing to do with the nerves that seemed to be stirring his insides like a cauldron.
Shacklebolt's secretary was not at her desk, and Shacklebolt's door was open. Harry walked to it, seeing the man sitting behind his desk. Harry knocked softly on the wood. Shacklebolt looked up and signaled for Harry to have a seat in one of the chairs in front of his desk. He was in the middle of writing something and finished before addressing Harry.
"What brings you to my office, Harry?" Kingsley Shacklebolt said as he looked at the young man that sat across from him. Harry hesitated before fishing the well-folded letter from his pocket. Harry slid it across the desk towards Shacklebolt and waited a moment as the man picked up the letter and read it. Harry watched his face.
"I am here for my debriefing, sir," Harry said hoping that he came off sounding even and balanced. Shacklebolt proceeded to stand and to cross to his office door, shutting it. Harry watched as Kingsley returned to his seat and pushed the letter back to Harry.
"I didn't write this, Harry," Shacklebolt said quietly. Harry looked at him a moment, as if it took him that long to comprehend what Shacklebolt was saying.
"Wait? What? What do you mean you didn't write it?" Harry asked with confusing written on his face.
"Well, son, I mean I didn't write you that letter, and I certainly didn't send you to look in on the suspected dark, under-age magic of Ava D'Agostino," Kingsley said flatly. Harry looked at him, but Kingsley fell short of meeting Harry's gaze.
"Do you know who Ava is?" Harry asked. Kingsley met his eyes this time.
"An under-aged witch?" Shacklebolt replied weakly. Harry's eyes narrowed.
"No. Kingsley, Ava is my daughter. Well, mine and Hermione's daughter," Harry said as he watched Shacklebolt's expression. Shacklebolt didn't respond instead he stood and walked to his windows.
"I wasn't aware that you and Hermione were in a relationship," Shacklebolt said quietly.
"We weren't aware, either," Harry said with a slight annoyance creeping into his voice. "I take it you are standing behind the position of not knowing anything?"
"How could I, the minister of magic, know about the relationship of every witch and wizard I am responsible for?" Shacklebolt defended. Harry made a noise of outrage.
"We're not talking about any witch or wizard," Harry snapped. "We are talking about me and Hermione, and about us having a daughter that we know nothing about. We are talking about you sending me on a mission to find her, and now standing her and denying it."
"Harry, I assure you I did not send you on that mission," Shacklebolt said as he crossed to his office door. He opened it and looked at Harry. "If you don't mind, I am quite busy."
"But it was your seal on the letter!" Harry exclaimed. Shacklebolt shook his head.
"I really am quite busy, and I again assure you that it must have been a mistake or perhaps a cruel joke, I didn't send you on that mission, I didn't know about your relationship, and I don't know about any daughter that you would have had," Shacklebolt defended. Shacklebolt tilted his head at the door, signaling the end of the conversation.
Harry stood and went to exit through the door that Shacklebolt was now holding open for him. Harry stood just outside the door, facing the man that he once thought of as a person worthy of his trust and admiration with a look of almost contempt. Harry knew that Shacklebolt was hiding information from him. He had enough experience of that as a child; he didn't need it as a man.
"Fine. You say you don't know about Ava, Hermione, or me, fine," Harry said as he stared the man down. "Just give me a pass that allows me access to the Hall of Records. I can prove Ava is mine if I look up her records."
"I'm sorry, Harry," Shacklebolt said as he denied Harry's request. "Perhaps you should make an appointment, though I doubt the records will clear any additional information up for you."
"Thank you for your time, minister," Harry said with loathing dripping from his voice. Harry stalked away from Shacklebolt without another look or word. He was fuming. So, Shacklebolt was denying that he sent Harry on the mission. Harry paced in front of the elevators, occasionally mashing the button rather aggressively.
"Hey, they're not working again today," a wizard from the accounting department told him as he brushed past Harry on his way to the stairs. Harry growled and headed toward the stairs.
`I have to find out who gave Malfoy this damn letter then, or why he lied about it,' Harry thought patting his pocket as he took the stairs two at a time on his way back down to his floor. `Damn, he and Hermione are gone on a trip together and won't be back until next week. What does she see in that creep? I can't stand him.'
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