Chapter 45 - The Third Suspect
Hermione asked that they drop by the pastry shop around the corner from her hotel. The choice of what dessert to bring their hostess in view of the fact that she did not know much about Andy was a difficult one. Harry must have sensed her conundrum and on his suggestion, they picked up a lemon meringue pie.
Harry thankfully thought it as prudent for them not to Side-Along Disapparate. They agreed not to for the sake of the...um...pie. He hailed a cab as they reached the street, helped her into the backseat and followed her in. They sat on opposite sides of the cushion and found interesting things to look at as the cab motored west down Gerrard and hung a right on Avenue at the light.
It would have been an understatement to say that the first part of the short ride through rush hour traffic was most uncomfortable. The windows were all closed, the heater was blasting warmth into their shared air as it should have, and she could not help but notice the new cologne he was wearing. She had to laugh inwardly as the scenario reminded her of cheesy telly ads. If he commented on her short and shallow breaths she'd have to say it was some allergic reaction.
Muggle music from the radio filled the cabin.
They say what you give is always what you need
So if you want me to lay my hands on you…
She rolled her window down slightly. That didn't help.
That was Lay Your Hands On Me.
I love that song, Stew. The man's a poet, what else can I say.
Lesson one. Never argue with Korinne about Bon Jovi.
Now on to our Easy Rock listener question for the night; we'd love to hear from you.
Give someone else ideas. Where were you Valentine's night last year?
She felt him cast a glance at her. It was hard but she didn't look back.
Yeah, where were you? I was calling you all night.
A pause.
Right. You were having an affair with a stranger who turned out to be my best friend. Now there's an idea. Call that in and see what they say about that.
There was mounting pressure to say something to keep her mind distracted. She had to make conversation and would have struck one with the cab driver had he not been talking with someone else on the phone. The hostess; might as well ask him about their hostess.
"So, how long have you worked with her?"
"Since I got here."
She nodded and they suffered through a long pause as they both looked out the window watching the slow passing of people, buildings and cars around them. Maybe he was still upset about what she did earlier that day.
"You two seem to get along very well."
"Yeah, we do."
Dismissive. Another break. Either he didn't feel like chatting or he was indeed still upset at her.
"Is she a good partner?"
"She's not bad."
Maybe he didn't want to talk about her. She really should apologize. If only she could figure out what she should apologize about.
"Who else is going to be at this dinner?"
"Just her family," he replied.
It was like pulling teeth talking with him tonight. Just her family. She imagined a long dinner table full of Andy look-alikes exchanging her trademark pleasantries. She thought it best to not know exactly and expect the worst.
The traffic had now crawled to snail speed and pedestrians were outpacing the motorists. Harry kept glancing at his watch and up ahead as if doing so would clear the road. They should walk if they were close enough and if they were still far off, she was willing to suffer the momentary closeness of the Side Along than this eternity of discomfort between them.
His phone rang and the awkwardness was momentarily pushed off to the side. It was Andy checking up on them.
"We're stuck in traffic."
His partner's voice was irritating, spilling over from the phone receiver, just enough for Hermione to hear her talking but not enough to make out what she was saying. Hermione heard him laugh at what Andy said.
"And you think I planned this all along. Very funny."
They could be less obvious.
"Do what you have to do, Mother," he teased over the phone.
Hermione was not listening to any more of that. She fumbled for her phone in her purse and rang Ginny, who she had been playing phone tag with all day. It was late. She meant to call in the morning but it was something to do to prevent them from continuing that non-conversation once he hung up.
Ginny picked up and Hermione tuned the other conversation out.
"Hi, I'm glad you're still awake."
"Well, I'm not," Ginny replied groggily, "I've been waiting all night for you to call back."
"I've been busy."
"So I heard. Kingsley called another meeting and told us about what's happening in Toronto. What the hell are you thinking agreeing to all this?!"
Not her too.
"It's not that I have a choice."
"You and him both, high maintenance, saviour complexes that need to be fed," Hermione had to roll her eyes because she knew what was coming. "You deserve each other. He's probably the only one who'll understand."
Judging from his displeasure, apparently not.
"So, how are things going with him? I got the incoherent message. Then there was the bad decision. I can only conclude you snogged him and your brain turned to mush. Am I right or am I right?" Ginny asked, sounding like she was stifling a yawn.
"I'd love to talk to you about that but it'll have to wait 'til the morning. We're in a cab on our way to dinner at his partner's house," she hoped Ginny would take a hint.
"I guess that's a 'yes' and from the sound of it you're still being stubborn and not hearing him out. It's been a year. Give the man a break."
"Yeah, the dinner would be a nice break," she replied, "We're meeting an informant after. I hate keeping you up at this ungodly hour. Is there anything more important you'd like to tell us?"
"Alright, I get it, you can't talk about him with him listening in," Ginny replied then ordered, "Put him on the phone."
"Absolutely not."
"Hermione, I'm tired and have no patience for bullshit. I do have his number if I wanted to talk to him about you behind your back, which I have in the past. Just put me on speaker. It's about the Gringotts robbery. I told Kingsley already but I want to tell the both of you, too."
Slightly embarrassed, she told her to wait while she got Harry's attention and cast a Muffliato spell so the cab driver would not hear.
"Go ahead," Hermione prompted.
"Hey Harry. How's it going?"
That sounded way too nice. She wouldn't dare…
"Oh, you know, could be better. How are you?"
"Today has just been horrible. It started off really bad…"
Here she goes…
"First, I got this disturbing early morning phone call about Mexico…"
It was past 8; it wasn't that early.
"Then was shocked to be reading about it in the morning edition of the Prophet…"
That they guessed right about that was not my fault.
"The boss had me doing fillers…"
You should interrupt her now…
"I've been chasing after Bruins, worrying about this impending social upheaval, mourning the loss of friends…"
"Ginny!" she tried.
"And on top of that you two have not patched things up!"
Too late.
"Gin…" Harry tried to calm her down.
"What will it take to make you realize that life is short, there's no sense crying over spilt milk and that what happened is all water under the bridge?! We're human; we all make mistakes! We move on! There is absolutely no excuse that you can't at least be friends again!"
As Ginny ranted, Hermione looked up and found it irresistible not to return Harry's gaze. Each word was meant for her; each thought rang true and made her flinch. They were certainly ones he had expressed to her one way or another before.
"Gin, we're working on it," he said firmly as he held her eyes with his.
Then he asked her, mouthing the question that was meant only for her, "Are we?"
Harry wasn't sure if they were.
"Yeah, we're working on it," she answered them both.
Ginny picked up on it.
"Stop covering for her. Jeez, between the both of you…" Ginny couldn't finish, an irritated incomprehensible sound came over the receiver, then a moment of silence, "Fine. So, did you really run into the Bruins?"
"Once, maybe twice. The ones we met are anti-potion, at least we think they are," she replied, thankful that Ginny let it go, for now, "Tell us about Gringotts."
"It's about Sir Isaac Umber."
"The guy Gringotts just absolved from involvement in the robbery?" Hermione heard it on the Wizard News.
"Yes. I was in his office today; saw the Bruin crest on an out of place area rug and an old copy of the Story of the Magic Pill. He's definitely a Bruin and I think so is Ecruminus Brown. Kingsley said he was at that meeting. Brown was one of the handful who Umber invited to his knighthood ceremony; he was in the background of a picture taken for a local newspaper covering the event. So I looked into the Squib and found a Halloween party photograph in his Muggle high school yearbook of him wearing wizard robes with the Bruin crest. Travel records confirm they're very close."
These Bruins seemed to be coming out from the woodworks.
"Interesting," Harry interjected, "Brown is staunchly anti-potion which will put Umber in the same category."
"Most analysts think Lestrange robbed Gringotts to finance her retirement party and framed Umber to prevent goblin backlash," Ginny explained. "The guy is squeaky clean and that made everyone wonder why Umber? Whatever is going on between them it has to do with Sophie's potion. The only reason I can think of is that Umber is interfering with her retirement and Umber is interfering because it has something to do with the Bruin potion. But why she just won't kill him is baffling. Then today, Umber does the shocker, points the finger at Lestrange and convinces the goblins it is her."
Hermione summarized, "So we have Umber, Brown and the alley Bruins on one side, Lestrange, the purple potion maker who may or may not be Lestrange's Potion Master, Mystery Witch and Floyd on the other."
"What mystery witch?"
Harry told her a brief summary of his dealings with who they had named Mystery Witch. She forgot that as much as Ginny knew about the Bruins and the current events in London, she did not know much about Waxball and Floyd.
Ginny asked, "How did they get Sophie's potion recipe?"
Hermione replied, "We think it was stolen two years ago from a German Healer who was murdered by Floyd here in Toronto. We're almost sure she was a Bruin."
"Helga Braun?"
Harry was as surprised as Hermione was and inquired, "How do you know this?"
"I was in Germany last year to look her up only to find out that she had died the year before in Toronto."
"The dead end," Hermione remembered that conversation at Ron's last Quidditch match.
"Unfortunately in the literal sense. Classic Bruin cover-up. Death records list her as having died from natural causes which in most cases is Bruin code for having ingested too much of the experimental poison. The Braun family was very tight lipped but I spoke with a close Braun family friend who swears the Healer was a late bloomer everyone thought she was a Squib. I never thought twice to ask more questions about Toronto."
Harry spoke, understanding what Ginny was implying, "So, she was a maker and a user. What made you go to Germany to look her up in the first place?"
She sensed Ginny hesitate, then finally decide to tell them, "Daughter Helga's family tree led me to her."
"You have a copy of the Bruin family tree?" she had to ask; Ginny never said anything about this, not that Ginny shared all work secrets with her.
"Part of the Bruin family tree," Ginny corrected, "And it's illegal to own one, so I'd have to say 'no' to that. Some Bruins keep track, to find the granddaughter who, depending on which Bruin you ask, will make them proud or cause more disgrace. I can't tell you where I got it, it's old and incomplete but I've been adding on to it and it led me to Germany last year. Helga Braun was a Bruin, a pro-potion one."
"She travelled a lot, too; attended every major potion conference ever organized in her adult lifetime. The same family friend said that Helga was obsessively looking for a long lost relative and was hoping to find her at one of the meetings. I think she was looking for the one prophesied to make the potion that Sophie Bruin intended to make. The Healer had very high hopes about finding her in Toronto."
Harry was puzzled, "Even if the prophecy were to come true, what made her think this granddaughter was already born and would be attending potion conferences?"
He obviously had not read the compilation of probable Hufflepuff's prophecies.
Ginny tried to explain, "After Helga Hufflepuff made the prophecy about the potion and the Bruins to Sophie's daughters, Sophie's youngest, also named Helga, broke off ties with her anti-potion sisters. It is said that related prophecies were made Helga to Helga, and these have been passed on from generation to generation of pro-potion Bruins. Supposedly, some of these provided specifics about who this Bruin granddaughter was and when she would come. Only her descendents would know and who knows how accurate the current versions are after all these years."
"Aren't there actual records of these prophecies?" Harry asked.
"They were housed in the London Ministry of Magic Department of Mysteries up until about ten years ago when a bunch of teenagers smashed the orbs which contained them. The misfits had some lame excuse about needing to escape Death Eaters."
"That's unfortunate," Harry mumbled, knowing fully well which bunch of teenagers Ginny was referring to.
Hermione had to put things in perspective, "These are prophecies. We really should take them with a grain of salt. They're like horoscopes; they tend to ring true if someone wanted to read something more into them."
"Harry, and Hermione knows this, you have to be very careful around these Bruins, particularly the anti-potion ones. I've heard stories and some of them are certifiable. There are Bruin zealots who will do everything for the prophecy, including murder."
Hermione had heard Ginny's Bruin horror tales and thought it unfortunate that so many Bruin lives were affected adversely by a mere prediction. She felt sorry for Helga Braun, not only because of how she died but because she started the cascade of events that could make the initial Hufflepuff prophecy of chaos to come true. That was tragic.
Ginny initiated the next round with a question, "So, Helga loses the recipe to a bunch of con men and the con men went to Lestrange who then had Potion Master brew the potion?"
"Lestrange did not know about the Ghoul Potion until after the fact," Harry explained. "The con men were working for Mystery Witch."
Ginny understood, "So who do you think it was who followed Helga's recipe?"
Hermione replied, "We don't know."
"Neither Floyd nor Waxball knew how to make potions," Harry answered.
"Neither has been associated with anyone who could have," she added.
"So the Ghoul potion maker was either some other player we don't have a clue about or the Mystery Witch herself, who we don't know much about either."
They really didn't have much to go on.
Hermione tried to find something positive, "At least we know for sure that the Mystery Witch cannot be Lestrange's Potion Master."
Harry concurred, "You're right. Lestrange hates women too much she has none in her inner circle to succeed her. She can't be the anointed one."
She continued, "And we also know that Lestrange's Potion Master has got to be the potion maker who concocted the batch that Floyd currently has."
He added, "Yes, because the fact that the potion was made in London means Lestrange knew about it. Something this big would have Lestrange's permission. We know she's retiring. We know she wants to go out in a big way. We know she knows about the potion and this thing between her and Umber suggests that her plan has something to do with the usually low key Bruins. And whatever this plan is, her successor, the Potion Master, has got to be neck deep in it. We're talking about the Squib Holy Grail, the magic enabling potion. If her Potion Master is not the purple potion maker, he really should change his moniker. It would be too embarrassing to continue to use it."
Hermione could not have reasoned that out more clearly. Ambitious wannabe Dark Lords would want to at least live up to their chosen alias. Otherwise they'd be a joke.
She thought out loud, "That also means Lestrange is supporting Floyd in whatever plan the Squib has to disrupt the research conference. But last year, Lestrange did not find out about the Ghoul potion until after the fact. Whoever it was who brewed that first batch did so without Lestrange's knowledge or blessing. Very few Death Eaters would be able to do something like that and live."
"So, we may have two different potion makers..."
"Or her Potion Master was the same potion maker from the Floyd-Waxball Operation, someone unknown, got recruited and rose quickly within the Death Eater ranks to become her heir," Hermione finished the sentence for him.
Harry said to them, "My gut says there's only one potion maker."
Hermione hoped he was right. Without discounting the possibility of there being two, it was much more desirable to be looking for only one person.
"So how do we prove or disprove that?" Harry asked.
"Maybe the answer lies in the answer to this other question. Lestrange clearly does not want this potion used in London, at least not yet. Why make the potion in Britain, risk the Ministries intercepting it during various stages of shipping, and deal with having to keep the potion's existence off London streets? The potion can be easily made here where it is obviously meant to be used."
"The Potion Master lives in Britain. Maybe he couldn't take time off his real life to come over, kill off magical creatures and make the potion," Harry reasoned.
She thought it conceivable that nefarious criminals could have busy normal lives.
"Upstanding citizen by day, conniving evil potion maker by night."
"Or maybe evil potion making is just a hobby; something to fill spare time," Harry was only half joking.
"If only we knew where the Ghoul potion was made," she said wishfully, "There's not much comfort to know it could have been from anywhere in the world. It is somewhat easy to move phials of potion around."
Harry had an idea, "The phials are easy to move but the same can't be said for magical creature tissue. That's it. That's how we track down the maker of the original Ghoul potion."
She realized what he was thinking.
"The same way we're tracking down the Potion Master."
"It will take time, but it's worth a shot," he said.
"We can narrow down the search, start from a set radius from Toronto and hope it was made more locally than the current batch."
"If the Toronto and London potion paths converge to one person then we know there's one maker."
"And if the paths stay separate then we know there are two."
"Either way identifying the maker or makers should lead us to Lestrange or the Mystery Witch."
"Or both."
"Then maybe we'll have some suspects to consider for Mystery Witch."
The way they completed each others' thoughts off was exhilarating. They paused, excitement replaced the uneasiness that was present before.
The sound of throat clearing interrupted them and they realized Ginny was still on speakerphone. Ginny had not said anything in a long while and Hermione wondered if she had dozed off.
"Are you still listening?" Hermione asked.
"I was but you stopped talking, it made me wonder," Ginny commented. "That was good and I didn't have to call a pay per minute number."
Hermione thought it best not to respond to that. Harry got on the phone and spoke with someone at the Ministry about doing a search on any reported deaths or disappearances of house-elves, goblins, centaurs and giants in eastern Canada and the United States from the day Helga Braun died to the day he saw the potion at the Ghoul.
As Harry was on the other line, she heard the now familiar purring in the background and they talked as they waited for him to finish.
"You sure are spending a lot of time with Cat Man."
"It does seem like it, doesn't it?"
"I feel like I know his cat more than I know him," Hermione said to her, "When do I get to meet the man?"
"When you get back. Just don't do anything too crazy while you're there, like get yourself killed, okay?"
"Not planning to."
Harry was off the phone and asked, "So Gin, what do you really think?"
"You're definitely onto something. Come to think of it, that would be a way to find pro-potion experimenting Bruins too, although I would hope not all of them would resort to killing for ingredients," Ginny replied then added, "I hate to be the one to point this out but Lestrange seems to be contradicting herself. If she is backing Floyd, why did she put a lid on the potion last year and why is she continuing to do so in London? What's changed in a year and why have her retirement party in Toronto? And Hermione, if Lestrange is part of what Floyd is planning there and Floyd needs you for it, why didn't she attempt to take you while you were still here?"
"I don't know," she admitted.
Hermione still didn't know what Floyd wanted from her.
"Any other leads on Lestrange's Potion Master?" Harry changed the subject.
"Loads," Ginny replied, "Winky was examined after the ceremony. You're right; she did not have her organs either."
Ginny continued, "The Auror office has cordoned off the Hogwarts kitchen, maybe a bit too late, and are interviewing potential witnesses. And I know Kingsley told you about Filch already."
"Two magical beings murdered within Hogwarts grounds, and Filch killed in a more personal manner," Harry said more to himself. "Whoever killed them, he or she knows Hogwarts pretty well. A former student, a former employee, someone familiar. It's evident who Kingsley should ask first, if he can be found."
"It's not the Professor," she declared.
Harry countered, "He's the most obvious one. In my books he's still an evil git."
They could have easily fallen into a debate about innocent until proven guilty had Ginny not intervened.
"Neville and Professor McGonagall said he visited Hogwarts the day before Firenze was found dead in the Forbidden Forest. And Aberforth thought it curious to see him having a drink with a visiting half giant at Hog's Head last week. Same half giant has since gone missing."
Even Hermione thought that strange. But then again, Severus Snape was an obvious scapegoat. Too obvious.
"Snape's smart. He would not do something like that and leave footprints to get caught," the evidence even made Harry doubt, "Any other suspects."
"Dennis," Ginny said softly.
"Dennis?" Hermione could not help but feel an upwelling of emotion to defend her assistant.
Ginny gave them reasons why Dennis was a suspect.
"The Unbreakable phials you said he ordered from Romania are not in your St. Mungo's Lab. Dennis can make potions and you yourself said he's pretty good. We know he worked in a Detroit hospital before working for you. If he was the one Potion Master you are looking for, then that explains why the current batch was made in London. And he is missing. His phone was found in an abandoned meat processing plant. They traced one frequently called number to a Death Eater relay and he has received a lot of calls from someone he has identified on his phone as BB."
Bellatrix Black.
"Was there anything about him that seemed suspicious," Harry questioned.
Dennis? She couldn't begin to think of him as a Death Eater.
Hermione shook her head and answered truthfully, "No."
Ginny asked her, "You are sure you purchased the phials, right?
"That's not something I would forget. Why do you ask?"
"There is no record of you ever ordering or purchasing anything from Romania."
Even Harry knew that was not right, "We checked. The phials found here were traced to her name."
"The Romanian company has retracted. They now say those serial numbers that you gave them do not belong to any of their phials."
"Another Bruin cover-up," Harry concluded.
"Likely. What did the Bruin woman in the alley tell you exactly?"
"That they trusted I would do the right thing."
Harry opined, "If I were a Bruin I would say you did not disappoint. If not for you, the potion would have been analyzed and it would have been all over the news right now. Maybe they're repaying you a favour so you would not get in trouble."
Hermione did not answer, too distressed at the fact that Dennis was missing. She thought of him being another victim in all of this as she listened to Ginny tell Harry there were no other real suspects and that she would send over a copy of the Bruin family tree.
Ginny said goodbye, reminding her to be very careful. Sensing she did not want to discuss Dennis further, Harry shut her phone off for her and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. She looked at him and found his unspoken concern a comfort. His phone rang.
"Yes…right…I do and I agree…okay…"
He hung up.
"Andy's place isn't far from here. Let's walk," he suggested and paid the driver.
It must have been Andy. They were late. She followed him out, pie in tow, taking the hand he offered as she alighted from the cab. He tugged at her gently, pulling her towards the sidewalk. After walking a block or so, they got off the main road and turned onto a side street. They walked in silence for sometime, hand in hand, his grip firm, strong, secure…
Keeping her close, Harry did not want to let go and he did not want to say anything that would make her. Moments ago, in the cab, he realized just how much more involved Hermione was with the case, and she already was even before she arrived in Toronto without her knowing it.
He could not believe that Dennis Creevey was the Potion Master either. Even Snape was sounding like a fall guy. He had another suspect whose name was not brought up in the conversation. He even asked Ginny again and she said there was no one else. But when Ginny called him almost immediately after hanging up, his concern for Hermione's safety increased a hundred fold.
"Don't let her know it's me," Ginny said in a hushed tone.
"Yes…"
"Your to and fro discussion with her made me think of one more Potion Master suspect."
"Right…" they were thinking the same thing.
"There is a wizard who lived in Michigan and moved back to London three months ago. He's good at potions, has lots of magical creature contact and he's the most obvious successor to Lestrange if people would only see him for who he really is. You know who I'm talking about.
"I do and I agree…"
"She won't be as open to the idea so you can't tell her, not until we have proof. And there's more to this that I have to tell you about the Bruins. If we're right about him then I think I know what Lestrange wants out of all this. Call me when you get a moment away from her."
"Okay…"
"And Harry, take care of her. Stay close. Malfoy is in Toronto."
Harry glanced at Hermione from the corner of his eye. He was going to stay close, as close as she would allow him to be. Instinctively, he held her hand more firmly and he felt her hand hold his back.