A/N. Many thanks to those who have reviewed. I enjoy reading them and look to them for plot holes and ideas.
For the record, I prefer Jane but to keep it canon I'm using Jean.
A few have mentioned Ginny - I finally have her in here but I couldn't write her the way I thought I would.
Heavy angst warning.
XXXXXXXXXX
Chapter 5 - Jean Peverell
Ginny Potter woke up and instinctively reached across the other half of the bed. Her hands fell on the familiar cold unruffled pillow next to her. One would think that after seventeen years of experience as an Auror's wife she would be used to this. She really shouldn't feel so bad anymore.
She pulled the covers up to make herself warmer, causing a rustle somewhere nearby. That would be her notes falling onto the floor. For now, she decided to ignore them, still tired from their recent trip to the Bahamas and too tired from listening to hogwash at the Wizengamot courtrooms all day. She hoped the coziness she was felt at the moment would lull her back to sleep.
No such luck. After tossing and turning for a few minutes she was wide awake. She flipped the covers off her, freed up her long red locks from beneath her night gown and began magically gathering the parchments strewn on the floor. As weekly columnist for the Daily Prophet she had not yet decided if the next editorial would be about the rapidly declining relevance of the Wizengamot decisions and the need for an injection of progressive thinkers into the high court of Wizarding Law in Britain.
Writing about it would certainly stir things up a bit. M.A.Prewett, her pseudonym, started penning thought-provoking, bordering on incendiary, political insights by fluke. After Lily left for Hogwarts two years ago she needed something to fill the quasi-empty nest feeling she had, something more challenging than attending charities and galas, and writing about sports and Quidditch. As Mrs. Potter, she certainly dealt with politics almost every day, particularly because Harry refused to pay attention to anything remotely associated with it. She approached her editor-in-chief about being a guest columnist and gave him no choice but to say yes.
It eventually evolved into a regularly weekly and certainly kept her busier than she imagined it would. Today she spent hours researching at the Wizengamot gallery, listening to fuddy-duddies smite down any and all reasonable case that involved non-wizards. Nobody was saying it out loud but it was clear what was happening. The gains made in non-wizard relations, a focus of past administrations, were becoming undone and events were unraveling into one potentially volatile situation.
The first summarily dismissed was the suggestion to set up on British soil an Integrated School for the Magical and Non-Magical. Grawp the Giant, Winky the Free Elf and the Squib Brian Figg (a prominent Muggle barrister) made a valiant effort to point out that the idea had been embraced overseas and disallowing it was an infringement of equal rights to education. It was turned down for the third time in as many years citing that it was in violation of the Statute of Secrecy. The voting was too quick and too decisive. She knew for a fact that some Wizengamot members were even lobbying internationally to close the existing one in North America and to prevent the Asian branch from opening its doors, a reflection of the current state of politics in Britain that incensed much of the public nowadays.
It was sometime that morning during a court recess following Jurnuk's violent reaction to the dissolution of the Brotherhood of Goblin's legal status that she got an unexpected phone call from Hermione. Ginny thought Grawp had told Hermione she was in attendance and was calling about the Wizengamot decision on the Brit IMAN. Why she would even think that now seemed ridiculous but maybe it was because the last few times they talked their conversations had been about work and politics.
Hermione was calling about Hugo. She was asking if he could stay with them for a few days.
Ginny's anxiety level went up a significant notch and matched how Hermione was feeling. Hermione must have been desperate. It would have taken a lot for her just to make this phone call.
Upfront and honest, she told Ginny there was considerable tension in the air and she did not feel it safe for Hugo to be at school alone or at home with her. She also told Ginny what she was going to tell Harry and Ron. Co-conspiring to hoodwink the two wizards reminded Ginny of old times.
"I know it's a lot to ask," Hermione stated the obvious.
'Then why ask?' she groaned internally but instead replied, "Don't worry about it. I did agree to be his godmother."
"Thank you for doing this," Ginny heard her say, sensing her relief. "I'll pick him up in a week."
"Just be careful."
There was silence. Did she just say that out loud?
"I will. Thanks again."
Ginny hung up. That was weird. What stunned her was that she actually said it. Ginny had come a long ways from wishing Hermione dead to being concerned about her and now, letting her know she was.
The last time they spoke was during Hermione's Mum's funeral a year ago and they barely talked before that. Although it happened many years ago, appearances aside, it was still a sore point. It was hard finding something pleasant to talk about with her husband's ex-mistress even if said infidel used to be her closest friend.
Ginny had every right to be acidic and even vindictive but she was no longer angry. Time, maturity and a lot of counseling took care of that. Forgiveness did not come quickly either but it did after she stepped back and decided what was important. Maybe on some foolish level she actually understood. In the end she felt not hate for Hermione but an odd mix of pity and envy. And yes, when the anger subsided she missed the friendship but doubted very much that they could go back to the way things were.
She moved her notes onto her writing desk and found her phone amongst the clutter. There was a message from Harry from a few minutes ago, probably an apology for missing the St. Mungo Quidditch Match Charity event and the after-match party that followed.
Barely five seconds into the replay she got up, eyes wider and more alert than before. Something had gone wrong. Hugo was with him and he was sending Hermione's boy home with Ted. But they weren't expecting Hugo until midmorning, and Ted and Hugo should have arrived by now. She glanced up the wall and the special clock she inherited from her Mum indicated that Harry was out of the country.
Hurriedly, she called Harry back.
No answer.
Where are you? Answer dammit!
Her mind racing, Ginny gave up and scrolled down the list of contacts on her phone looking for Ted's name when it rang.
It was Ron.
XXXXXXXXXX
Just moments before at the 12th Level Ministry staff lounge, the reactivated Portkey turned blue and warped space. Harry held on to the laces, still stunned by the news about Hermione and miffed at himself for underestimating the kid's magical capabilities. The quick thinking Ted Lupin was able to grab the sneaker too. Within a few seconds, they were taken halfway across the world to the exact same place where the Portkey originated.
As per standard operating procedure, both Aurors had their wands drawn out even before they fully arrived at their destination but, surprisingly, the house was already deserted. Recognizing the absence of immediate danger, he nodded over to Ted who understood to step out and secure their perimeter.
Harry surveyed the eight by ten square foot space, the fast thumping against his chest not easing up one bit. The room was brightly lit, not only from the rays of the rising sun coming through the east facing window but also from the ones that seeped through the many bullet holes that punctured the thin wooden walls and ceilings. The gaps were formed by the snaking pattern of an automatic firearm discharged in a random fashion, as if a couple of gunmen stood by the doorway and strafed the confined space. Chunks of the room were also missing, blown off by magic, and an unmistakable stench of gunpowder intermixed with human blood lingered in the moist muggy air. The room smelled of death.
Hugo had done the same thing he just did but the panic and concern in his son's expression was a more accurate reflection of how Harry felt. The scene before them was troubling knowing that Hermione was there a couple of hours ago and even more so that it only told half of what the real story was. There was no body but Hugo was standing near the head of the bed beside a thick dark red pool that was slowly expanding on the floor, blood soaked mattress dripping into it. Bordering and overlapping the stain, a tracing of a human form was outlined with a white magical marker. It would be that of the victim's as found lying on his or her left side.
"She's not dead," Hugo insisted, tears welling up in his eyes again. Harry could tell he was trying to be 'brave' and not cry, "We have to find her."
"We will."
That being a given Harry reassured him but did not mention the obvious implication of the human outline. He hoped that wasn't hers and that the rouge liquid on the scene wasn't hers either. In his estimation, it was too much blood for one person to lose and still survive.
But something about the scene did not feel right. For a crime that happened less than two hours ago it was curious how quickly the property was processed and left alone without protection, particularly considering that a somewhat famous and influential figure was involved. The room was devoid of personal items and room furnishings to suggest who if anyone lived there. What exactly did the Minister know and how did he find out? How did the news leak out so fast and why was it so sure that it was Hermione who died?
While he had been an Auror long enough to deduce what had likely happened in the room, there was a need to be organized and not jump to conclusions. As he already said to himself, Hermione was too smart and too cautious a witch to be blindsided by something like this. But if she wasn't dead, then where was she?
As question begat question he fumbled through his pockets only to realize that he dropped his phone in the lounge as he was rushing to get to Hugo earlier. It was then when Teddy rejoined them.
"We're secure. I've set up temporary wards."
"Good. I need your phone."
He found Ron's number and connected. He told Ron where he was.
Ron's voice cracked, "Tell me it's not true."
"I don't know, Ron," Harry looked around as if grasping for an acceptable answer, "The place is smashed but she's not here. Nobody's here."
"I called the IMAN," Ron replied in a panic, referring to Hugo's school, "The Headmaster said Hugo was with Hermione..."
"Hugo is with me."
"Is he okay?"
"He isn't hurt," at least not physically, Harry added in his mind catching Hugo's eye as the latter anxiously listened in, probably wondering if he was going to tell Ron their little secret, "He wasn't here when it happened."
"Thank goodness," he heard Ron sigh with relief, "He knows?"
"He saw the news."
"How's he taking it?"
"He's taking it as badly as you can imagine."
Harry replied honestly but didn't want to add to Ron's distress and withheld much of what Hugo told him about Hermione's state when the boy saw her last. That and how Hugo ended up with him were not conversations for right now.
Ron had asked to speak with Hugo but the boy shook his head and walked away. He wasn't ready. Ted went off to follow him as Harry made some forgettable excuse, reassured Ron that he'd look after Hugo and asked him about the Minister.
He told Harry what the Minister told him. That the Malay Ambassador's office received word from the South Asian Magical Police that a Brit civilian being found dead in her house and there was overwhelming evidence of foul play. The house was registered under Hermione's name and local forensics confirmed that the woman found lifeless on the scene was her. The SAMP was following protocol, asking for a liaison officer to help with family and media. Upon receipt of the request, the Ambassador contacted the Minister's office for direction and, as Ron was brought in to be informed, the news leaked out to the press.
Red flags kept popping up as Ron told him the story. Granting that Hermione was a controversial figure, he found it odd that the Minister would allow himself to be bothered about news from across the world at such an unholy hour. Leo found out too quickly, the crime scene was cleared too expediently and the story got to the news too swiftly. Maybe Hugo was telling the truth, that she had gone back to work for the Ministry. But he did not have enough facts and his thoughts kept spinning in place. He couldn't think like an Auror at the moment, especially not when he still didn't know what happened to her.
"Where was the body taken?" he asked, hanging on to the possibility that, despite what the Minister said, the corpse found was not her.
"The Morgue at the SAMP HQ. They asked me to come and identify her," Ron relayed, "I don't think I..."
Ron started bawling again and Harry felt for him. They had accompanied families to ID dead loved ones countless times and they knew what it was like. It was always painful to watch and irrefutably more painful to be on the other side of the fence. Hermione's parents were gone and Rosie and Hugo weren't of age. The task fell upon Ron by default.
"I'm here. I'll do it," Harry offered, not thinking twice.
Ron thanked him and said that he'd send word to the SAMP that he was on his way. They would go there next to do that and perhaps get some answers.
"He'd want to see the body, too," Ron said of Hugo, "I want you to look first and if it is her, I want you to think what Hermione would want for him, okay?"
Harry felt guilt eat him up as he mumbled something affirmative. That never crossed his mind and the realization that it should have left him annoyed at himself. It still had not sunk in that Hugo was his flesh and blood. Switching from caring uncle to estranged father was slow in coming, particularly now that Hermione was 'missing' and that Hugo had chosen to remain as his unnatural self. It was as if he was waiting for Hermione to tell him and for them to talk about Hugo for it to be real.
Ron, on the other hand, thought about Hugo first and Harry felt an inadequacy he had never felt ever in his life. He had always been a good parent to James, Al and Lily, but with them he had the advantage of being so from the very beginning. He had never been that for Hugo and he had no idea how to begin being one to a thirteen year old under such strained circumstances.
Judging from Hugo's reaction, his son preferred not to have anything to do with him. What was the term he used? The 'perfect life'." Harry didn't know how much Hermione told Hugo about what happened but could not imagine her deliberately badmouthing him to their son. This animosity was all Hugo.
And Harry understood his point of view. Yes, Hermione kept the truth hidden from him but that was irrelevant. Harry was guilty by ignorance, by absence and by the fact that of the three of them he was the only one who up until today did not have to live with the truth. To a thirteen year old those were unforgivable and even Harry agreed. 'I didn't know' was a lame excuse that would not make up for what Hugo had gone through, was going through and was about to go through.
Hugo saw him as the bad guy, the one to blame for all the wrong things in his life and, to be honest, Harry wasn't totally guiltless for Hermione's decision to keep the truth hidden. As much as he felt betrayed he knew exactly why she did it. He suspected that Hugo knew the reasons too and resented him for being the one Hermione chose to protect.
He heard Ron manage a thank you. Ron was devastated and his lack of hope was contagious but Harry told himself that he had to see proof. He had to see the body.
"It might not be her," Harry reminded him.
"Then where is she and why isn't she letting us know that she's alive?"
"There could be many reasons."
Yes and all of them not pleasant. They both knew she would have turned up already if she physically could, even if just to send word that she was okay, to give them, especially Hugo and Rose, peace of mind.
"You're right," Ron finally acceded. "It may not be her. But if it is her, just look out for Hughie, okay?"
"I will. I'll call you back as soon as I have something."
He hung up. For a moment he thought about contacting Leo but decided against it. That was something he had to do face to face, not only to ensure a private conversation but also to better assess if the Minister was being completely truthful or not. Harry found Ted and took him aside, handing the phone back to the visibly affected Auror.
"Are you okay?" Harry asked him once they were out of Hugo's earshot.
"I think so," the young man replied, "You?"
"Not really," Harry thought it would be obvious if he lied anyway.
"Do you think she's dead?"
"I hope not," he answered sincerely.
There was an unspoken gloom between them as they looked at the crime scene again. Having seen so much death Harry found himself wishing he had the unadulterated optimism that Hugo had.
He told Ted where they were going next. Ted quickly identified a safe Portkey drop off location and in no time they were at the SAMP office. They found the officer-in-charge who escorted Harry into the morgue as Hugo anxiously waited with Ted outside. Harry was worried. The boy had been very quiet for a long time, too quiet.
"Harry," a soft spoken voice greeted him somberly as he got through the swinging double doors.
"What are you doing here?" he responded, perplexed at the sight of the Brit Chief Forensics Officer this far from her London lab.
"I told Leo I had to do this."
Jessie was a close friend of Hermione's, at least up until Hermione left London four years ago. It was plain that she had been crying, too.
"Ron said you're to ID the body."
Jessie waited for his answer. He took his place across from her on the opposite side of the table on which an unmoving figure lay covered under a thin white sheet. She looked at him intently, as if judging if he was the right person to be doing this. He and Jessie got along but occasionally, like right now, he would get this feeling that she disapproved of him.
Although he would never announce it, Harry felt he was the most qualified, even more so than Ron. He had known Hermione for thirty years and she had always believed him to be the one person who truly did. He would know if this was her.
Harry steeled himself and nodded to the CFO. Jessie hesitated.
"You saw the crime scene, Harry. There's not much left to..."
He sensed where she was going with this. She already saw the body.
"Just let me see her."
Harry cut Jessie short, his gaze now poised over the sheet. He wanted this over with.
"I repeated the tests, reconfirmed identity against our Ministry database dental records and through accelerated DNA. We've pulled every Muggle file we could find to cross match..."
"Just show me!" Harry snapped at her roughly, the woman's thoroughness was killing him.
Without another word, the CFO slowly unveiled the corpse's face. Harry looked and had to will himself not to turn away. Jessie was right. There wasn't much left to ID. From the intact areas of the pale visage and partially exposed upper torso all he could tell was that she was Caucasian. A familiar mass of brown hair with dried and drying blood splayed on the cold white tile. Her eyelids were shut but he could only imagine seeing brown eyes under the lids.
His throat tightened up as he took the covering off entirely. He had to see the rest and as he did he blinked off the tears that had pooled in his eyes. The gory sight before him took his breath away, the mere possibility of the lifeless woman being Hermione overwhelmed him. It can't be her. It just couldn't. It had to be someone else.
He stepped back and gathered himself, wiping the wetness off his face with a sleeve. The Auror in him rationalized that if this were about someone he didn't know he wouldn't be thinking twice. A bullet riddled Caucasian dead woman found in this part of the world was rare and that coupled with the fact that the vic was in Hermione's house after Hugo saw her there with a gunshot wound would draw the logical conclusion. The evidence proved that.
But as he stood there gazing at the pallid empty human shell before him, he did not feel that familiar connection. He did not have the compulsion to touch her, the craving to see her smile or the urge to take her in his arms and embrace her. In spite of the proof, he didn't feel this was her. It was against logic and undermined all objectivity.
Maybe it wasn't her or maybe he was in classic denial.
There was no knowing. Seconds turned into minutes and frustration took over as he remembered how much the family was depending on him to say 'yes' or 'no', not this uncertainty muddled by his personal feelings. When he volunteered to ID her he was sure he'd know right away. Yet, here he was and he couldn't tell. He couldn't tell and he felt that he failed, not only her family, but Hermione on some level. And he had failed her so many times already.
His immediate concern went to Rose and Hugo. It was one thing if he himself remained conflicted but it would cost way much more if his failure to accept that she was dead gave them hope when all evidence pointed that there was nothing to hope for.
He gently covered up her body again.
"I can't tell," he admitted, gritting his teeth and willing himself not to weep as he looked at Jessie, "I can't..."
"I thought as much. That's why I ran the tests again," Jessie did tell him so.
"Any personal items?"
Jessie had a crestfallen look. She had wished he didn't ask.
"Nothing in the room but she had this around her neck."
She took out a transparent bag and a familiar object winked back at him. He took it out. It was the golden locket, the one he gave her years ago. He felt his chest tighten again. She still wore it. He didn't even know. After all this time she still wore it.
"Is it hers?" Jessie asked only because she had to for the record.
Harry turned it over, wiped the fresh red stain off with his thumb and read the inscription it concealed. He lost himself staring at the two words for so long they faded into a blur.
"Is it hers?" Jessie repeated the question.
He must have not been breathing for a while because he had to take a deep one.
"Yes," he replied, barely a whisper. "May I?"
Jessie nodded and Harry put it in his pocket. He would have taken it anyway even if she disagreed.
Harry said, "I don't see any point of having someone else come to look. Do you?"
"No," she answered then she hesitated before continuing, "The evidence says it's her. Harry, I have to call it, unless you tell me it's not."
"I have no proof that it isn't her. Do what you have to do."
She nodded. His answer would be equivalent to him saying the dead woman was Hermione. He took another uneven breath in. God, he needed a break, some respite, something familiar that he could deal with.
"Did you…um…process the scene?"
Jessie seemed relieved too that they were retreating behind the job they had to do.
"No. But I've gone over what was done and I'm reprocessing once my team gets here."
"Who found her?"
Jessie looked over his shoulder to a figure behind him. Harry had forgotten but the man who escorted him in had been standing in the shadows all this time. Harry vaguely remembered that his first name was Bomber. The wizard was a short pudgy fellow with a wide girth, receding hairline and a permanent smiley face for an expression that was so inappropriate at that particular moment.
"A neighbor from the valley down the foot path. Lisa Husta, Muggle," the officer replied, "She goes down that trail everyday on her way to the market and noticed the house for the first time today. She called the local Muggle police and we flagged it in time. The witness checks out."
Like most locals he spoke pretty good English. The city was a school town. Several Muggle universities and colleges made it their home and was the reason why Hermione chose the area to host the Asian IMAN.
"What about suspects?"
"The Malvados claimed responsibility for the hit. They're really the only ones with the balls to assassinate with such viciousness."
Harry had heard of the Malvados, the faction of dark magic practitioners and their non magical supporters which was on the international law enforcement watch list. Their goal was to destabilize governments and create anarchy akin to the medieval dark ages. They were considered the biggest threat to worldwide peace this half of the world.
"Why her?" he asked, wondering if it was the obvious.
"Beats me. She must have really pissed them off. Though I can't imagine how she could have done that considering she's only a teacher," the man shrugged, obviously not well informed about who Hermione was, "The case becomes even more interesting. While we were processing the scene someone snuck into HQ and left a message."
Bomber showed him a photo of the squad room wall. Written on it in human ink was a statement.
Goodbye Jean Peverell.
Harry steadied himself and tried not to look astonished.
Jean Peverell.
"We have one hit on the name from a place called Godric's Hollow and the records show she's been dead for more than fifteen years."
Seventeen to be exact, unless Hermione decided to resurrect an old alias he was almost sure she never would. Jean Peverell was one of the 'casualties' in the Morpheus Gaunt case. Harry did not believe in coincidences.
There were jurisdictions to be crossed, protocols to be violated and toes to be stepped on to get to the bottom of this. He wanted to see what else the SAMP had and where Leo fit in all of this. But first, he had to take care of Hugo.
Harry turned back to Jessie and asked her, "Anything else you want me to tell the family?"
"I'll take her back to London, look for curse signatures, scan her internal organs and get a few samples," Jessie shared what the plan was, "I'll wait the mandated twenty hours before I sign off."
He nodded, thanked her and walked through the swinging doors. He almost bumped into a charging Hugo on his way out. Harry could not bear to look at the eager anticipation he knew he would find and immediately wipe off without even saying a word.
"We're going back to London," Harry said.
"I want to see!"
Ron had called it right. Hermione would not want this.
"No," Harry said firmly.
He intended to take Hugo as far away from here as possible.
"I don't care what you say! I want to see her! I need to know it's her!"
The boy was not going to be denied. Hugo shoved him aside and tried to get through the doors. Harry grabbed him brusquely by the shoulders and got in his face.
"There's nothing to see! There's no one there but an empty body of a woman who resembles your mother. You don't want that to be your last memory of her!"
As his grip slackened, Hugo pushed his arms out of the way and stormed off crying. It hurt realizing that at the moment backing off was all he could do for his son. His son…their son…
He borrowed Ted's phone again. Ron. Finding an alcove to make the private call, he stared blankly at the keypad for a long time thinking of how best to break the news to his best friend. Then it hit him. There was no best way.
The numbers became fuzzy as he thought of what to say. If he let himself he would lose it and not be able to tell Ron. Jaw clenched and breath controlled, he choked on the ringing phone and put the receiver against this ear. Ron answered.
"There wasn't much left..."
"Merlin..."
He closed his eyes and let it go.
"Forensics confirmed and…and will make the call in twenty-four..."
For a long time there was only sobbing on the other end, then he heard a click. It was just as well that Ron hung up. He didn't know what else to say.
Harry flipped the phone shut, thought of Hermione and cried some more.
XXXXXXXXXXX
A/N. As most of you have probably guessed by now, I will be going back in time for this one and then come back to the present. I originally thought the Ginny here would be more Sue-ish but just couldn't imagine her knowing about the affair and still being friends with Hermione - although time seems to have taken the edge off a bit.