A/N. Harry and Hugo talk more about Hermione and about Warren. With Harry too busy I've got Ted helping him out. Then Warren Gates makes an appearance in the end.
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Chapter 8 - Uncle Warren
It was six when Harry got back to the Pitch. The interview with the thief Montague had taken longer than he thought and he took some time to review the initial reports on the deaths of Grawp and Phil 'the Daily Prophet Elf'. He should have been beat but he was still high on adrenaline and the desire to get to the bottom of what happened to Hermione was keeping him up. Following the interrogation where Montague said Borgin hired him and Bole to steal indiscriminately, he began to see the bigger picture but needed Hugo's help to tie Hermione's murder into all of this.
When he arrived there was activity in the kitchen. Ginny turned as he pushed the swinging doors in.
"Hey," he greeted, the smell of bacon, eggs and hash browns filling him.
"Breakfast?"
He stood beside her as she directed some fresh oranges and peaches into the sink. The expanded breakfast counter was filled with an assortment of choices set up like a buffet. He didn't have much of an appetite.
"Maybe later," he replied, "I have a 7am at the Ministry."
She looked at the clock then nodded.
"I see we're having company."
It was after all a Weasley tradition to come together during times like this.
"Ron just called from St. Mungo's. Rosie she seems well enough and wants to leave. They'll be here soon. Neville's bringing the children over. Percy and Audrey will be here in a few minutes, Fleur and Bill are coming and so are George and Angelina."
"Ron and the kids will appreciate that. How's Hugo?"
"He was tossing and turning a lot but he was still asleep when I peeked in a few minutes ago."
Harry decided he would ask him after the meeting. He used the back stairs that led from the kitchen to the second floor bedrooms, set on getting a shower before heading back. As he got to the landing he heard a stir from within Al's room. The door was ajar a couple of inches, the lights were on and Hugo was awake.
The boy had his back turned away from the entrance and he was sitting on Al's bed. His empty rucksack was on it; several books, a wand, clothes and its other contents spread on the covers. He was hunched over an item in his hands and he was crying again.
Hugo didn't notice him come in until Harry got to the other side of the bed and sat beside him. Even then, Hugo did not acknowledge Harry's presence and continued to sob, his tears falling steadily on the framed moving image he was holding.
It was a magical picture of Hermione with Hugo taken recently. The backdrop where it had been taken was unfamiliar and it was one that Harry had not seen before. They were in a restaurant and in the foreground of the snapshot there was a small cake packed with candles that had just been blown off.
Hermione was smiling but appeared embarrassed as their son looked on with a mischievous grin on his face. Her last birthday, Harry gathered, and it was probably a surprise because she always preferred not to make a big deal of it. Nobody else but Hugo had been there for her last one…her last one…
Hugo noticed he was staring and offered him her framed image. An unsteady hand took it and as he ran his fingers over her face he was overwhelmed by a myriad of emotions. She was smiling…despite everything that she had gone through she was smiling...then for a brief moment, when the Hugo in the picture wasn't looking, he saw sadness in her eyes and felt her regret. Underneath it all was a desperate hope that Hugo would be alright. Then it happened. Tried as he might he failed to reserve his tears for a more private time.
Merlin…where this was coming from he didn't know but he just had to weep for the woman on the picture. He wept for her acceptance of the cruel hand fate had dealt them so many years ago, bearing it more graciously than he did and ensuring he would come to the same sane and moral conclusion. He wept for how she could not find true happiness of her own…how she tried but could not bring herself to fall in love again. He wept for how she went…how she sent their son away and then died by herself…alone as she had been all this time...besieged by enemy fire. He wept thinking about what her final thoughts were as she lay injured and slowly felt her light go…
The fact that she was bravely hiding her sorrow from Hugo made him ache for her even more. It was not fair her living that way. It was not fair her dying this way. It was not fair.
And all that for what? She kept Hugo away because of him, because she wanted him to be happy, to have that chance of an ideal life with the family he loved and was committed to. She did it for Ginny and for their children, forsaking her own and Hugo's, and in the end she realized it wasn't an even exchange.
An image of her came to mind. She was explaining, pleading, and begging him.
I can't be the other woman. I would hate myself. Don't make me be that woman.
He really shouldn't have.
As he blinked off the remaining tears he handed the picture back.
"Keep it," the boy said coldly pushing Harry's arm away as he stood, "I was there. You weren't."
Sharp, cutting. You raised him well.
Hugo started putting his stuff back into the pack. Their son was obviously hurting maybe even more than he was but neither of them would be capable of giving the other comfort. They were strangers and the boy had just pointed out to him what the picture glaringly said. He was an outsider and Hugo made sure he would feel that he was one.
"Thanks," Harry said anyway then got up, closed the door and Imperturbed it wandlessly, thinking he had to do this now, "Let's talk about your Mum."
Hugo walked towards the window away from Harry, leaned on the ledge and brought his arms across his chest. It was clear Hugo was on his guard and didn't really trust him.
"Where do you want me to start?"
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The magical perpetual clock read six thirty. Ted was already at the Ministry Atrium trekking with purpose past the fountain and to the lifts. He had slipped out of the house quietly, careful not to wake his wife up. It worried him when she was worried and she was very much so after hearing of what had happened to Hermione.
Seeing all that yesterday was surreal. Hermione was one of his favorite 'aunts' although after he got his letter to attend Hogwarts Hermione ask him to stop calling her that. It was difficult for although she wasn't a blood relative, he had grown up knowing her as his Aunt. She was part of the extended family who embraced him and his grandmother after the war took his mother, father and grandfather away. It was through her that he learned about his parents, well, the version he liked the best, because she was detailed and vivid in her accounts. It amazed him how she remembered everything.
And he had always admired her for the work that she did for non-wizards in the Magical World. When he was about fourteen, he heard her speak at a gathering of like-minded supporters and she mentioned his Dad, about how his Dad had been accepted by society as a wizard but barely tolerated for the half that wasn't, and how they should be inspired by those like him to carry on the fight for change. Her impassioned speech brought tears to his eyes and he fell in love with Hermione Granger the woman right then and there.
The memory of his boyhood hormone charged crush made him blush and brought a smile to his face. She sure handled that well although it still embarrassed him when he thought about that moment when he, set in his mind that Hermione's concern and attention meant she fancied him, declared his undying love and proposed marriage.
"Teddy..."
"Call me Ted."
"Ted, listen to me. This is very flattering but what you're feeling right now is not the real deal."
"It is; I swear it is. I think about you night and day. I lo..."
"You should be going out with girls your own age."
"But I don't like girls my age. They're petty, immature and superficial."
"You have to look harder and give them a chance."
"But I don't want to..."
"I'm not going to argue with you. You must know that it's illegal for me to have a relationship much less marry an underage wizard but I'm willing to compromise. Once you become of age and you still feel strongly about this we can talk again. And if you don't feel the same way, I won't even bring it up."
His crush lasted all of six months. He started going out with girls his age and then, sometime after, fell in love with Victoire Weasley. Hermione was unable to attend their wedding last year but she sent him a gift with a most amusing note.
I told you so.
Ted sighed as he remembered last night, the smile leaving his face as quickly as it appeared. It was difficult to believe that she was gone.
He got to and settled into his desk on about three hours sleep and on three cups of coffee, and began reviewing the case of the robberies and the murders of Borgin and Burkes. Last night, as sleep was about to overtake him, he was working an angle based on the physical evidence that Borgin had been taken from his quarters above the shop, tied up prior to being murdered somewhere else and his body dumped in the middle of an existing crime scene to make it look like it was part of the robbery.
From Ministry and public files, Caractakus Burkes Jr. was a businessman with no known history of violence or any suspicious affiliations. Dung Fletcher's info about Burkes being responsible for his partner's death and the robbery being coincidental were not only farfetched, they did not support the physical evidence. Why tie Borgin up and kill him much later? Burkes could have easily killed Borgin in the shop and robbed it at the same time to get the same effect. Even if Burkes wanted to make his partner suffer before killing him (and there was no evidence that Borgin had been physically tortured), why take him somewhere else, risk being noticed moving the body out and then in again just to make the appearance. Why not just dump the body elsewhere?
Then it hit him. Maybe it was the appearance. Forensics easily uncovered the fact that Borgin did not die in the shop at the time of the robbery. This and the story Fletcher heard over the grapevine was to make the Aurors believe Burkes had something to do with Borgin's murder. Maybe Burkes was set up.
The question was 'why'. And 'who'. Surely it wouldn't be by the same murderers who took Burkes' life in broad daylight. Actually, getting Burkes arrested for Borgin's murder might have saved his life.
I can't tell you. I'm not the Keeper.
The witnesses who heard Burkes' final words thought he was calmer than he should have been and he sounded as if he was glad that he wasn't the Keeper, that he accepted his doom. Burkes knew his attackers and he knew they were coming for him.
A fresh set of files were just uploaded into the Auror database. More murders. The names caught his attention; Grawp the Giant and Phil the free Elf. Grawp, he knew, having seen him in Weasley family gatherings over the years. The giant worked a lot with Hermione during her many years of pushing the Ministry and Wizengamot for more non-wizard inclusive legislation and funding. It was a curious coincidence that they would both be murdered within twenty four hours of each other.
But of more interest to him was the murder of Phil. Though Ted never bought the Prophet he knew the free elf who was a fixture in the Atrium. The elf's name came up in Burkes' appointment book next to a bunch of letters Ted had had no luck finding the meaning to yet. The entry was for last month.
Daily Prophet Phil - POTH - Hog's Head
Those letters, P-O-T-H, were in Burkes' appointment books for years, sporadic meetings that seemed to be held more often at the run-down and dodgy Hogsmeade tavern than anywhere else. Ted had intended to question Phil about it and now he was dead.
His phone rang. It was Dung Fletcher.
"I have something for your godfather."
More lies? He checked himself in time.
"I'm listening."
"Burkes."
"What about him?"
"The word is he was part of the POTH."
Maybe the informant knew something after all.
"What's the POTH?"
"Dunno. Sounds to me like some clandestine organization. But, whatever it is, there were seven members and your Aunt Hermione supposedly founded it. I hear she's dead too."
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"Where do you want me to start?" Hugo asked him.
Harry took a position closer to Hugo, mindful about not crowding his space. In truth Harry wanted to know about the day when he first found out who he really was, what Hermione told him and how he felt about it. Seeing Hugo's current demeanor he recognized it wasn't the right time for that.
"You said she was working for the Ministry. When did that happen?"
"Last year, when we were here for Grandma's funeral. She met with the Minister. I overheard her saying to him it was just this one time."
"What was the assignment about?"
"Uncle Warren."
Harry cringed inside.
"What does Warren have to do with this?"
"Uncle Warren was part of a team of five hired by the International Magical Police to get rid of Salazar Malvado. They had lost all contact with him and then his team members were all found murdered. They believed he had turned. The Ministry, on the request of the IMP, asked Mum to take him into custody, and Malvado too if she could."
"As Jane Peverell?"
"No. As herself," Hugo said stonily but somewhat teary-eyed.
Harry felt hot all of a sudden. She was bait. The Ministry used her past relationship with Warren, knew Malvado would be after her and kept dangling her as bait.
"Did she have back-up?"
Surely she had to have someone watch her back.
"She insisted on not having one. She said it would only raise suspicion."
"Why did she agree to it?"
"She wanted to prove that Uncle Warren was innocent and to help get rid of Malvado."
Harry paused and pondered for a moment. Like Hermione Harry could not imagine Warren working for Malvado, not because Warren was such a morally solid individual but because he had an ego the size of Asia it was unimaginable for him to take orders from someone else, especially a Dark Lord.
But something had happened in the last few days that spooked her.
"Did Warren find out?"
"Uncle Warren knew from the beginning. Mum convinced the IMP to keep him in. They were working together to get to Malvado. A few days ago they got proof that Malvado was after the Elder Wand."
"That's why she sent you to me."
"Yes."
And now same wand was missing. Could Hermione have moved it? She was capable and had good reason to. Or maybe the Ministry did.
"You know what the Elder wand is."
"Of course. Mum's unabridged version of what happened between you and Voldemort was an essential part of my education."
"Did your Mum have the wand?"
"No. Uncle Warren said Malvado had started calling himself Master of Death, that Malvado must have it already but she didn't believe him. She told the Minister. He confirmed that the wand was no longer where it was supposed to be and he ordered her out. He did not want to get involved."
And she got involved anyway but did not want him or Ron there. She thought she could handle it on her own. His best guess was she got close to Malvado and he got to her before she could. And Warren, it was unlikely but not inconceivable that he sold her out.
"How do you know all this?"
"Uncle Warren had been sharing stuff with me during Legilimency and Occlumency lessons. Mum was cross, downright livid when she found out but it wasn't Uncle Warren's fault. I wanted to know what was going on and he trusted me with it. He told me I had to know so I could help her and protect her but she never gave me the chance."
He watched Hugo's guilt ridden expression and swore to himself. Warren was a bastard for dragging the kid into all this. Uncle Warren. While Warren and Hermione were a couple once Harry had an objection about how his son idolized, defended and kept calling the manipulative arse 'uncle'. There should be a rule against using 'uncle' to address a non relative.
"Were he and your Mum...," he had to stop; he should have formulated the full question before the half-curious half-case-pertinent inquiry stumbled out of his mouth.
He's thirteen. He must know about the birds and the bees.
"Sleeping together?" Hugo completed for him, "I don't know. He did occasionally spend the night in our guest bedroom and he keeps a few personal items there."
Of the few men Hermione dated after she divorced Warren was the only one who kept coming back. Harry had made the mistake of asking his ex-partner what his intentions were. He intervened only because Warren had a reputation of not being a one-woman-man.
"She tells me you're just friends. You don't have woman friends."
"Is it so hard to believe that I'm a changed man?"
"Yes. So cut the crap."
Warren laughed.
"We're shag-mates. She calls me when she wants to have a good time and I call her for same thing."
His words grated like metal against metal. He had suspected that this was how she was moving on and it hurt that she chose this.
"Hermione's a good person. She deserves someone better. No offense meant."
He shrugged, "None taken. She already knows I'm a bastard."
"If you're not serious about her then you should stay away."
"She's not looking for 'serious'. She says she's done with 'serious'. Perhaps you should be talking to her."
He wanted to but he had no right.
"If you hurt her..."
"Relax, Harry. I know you're best friends and all but Hermione's a big girl. She can take care of herself. And I can't hurt her; she doesn't care about me enough."
"Hugo, how do I find Warren?"
"I don't have his phone number, if that's what you're asking."
Harry rephrased his question.
"If you had to, in a pinch, can you get in touch with him?"
Hugo was shaking his head and was about to lie.
Having no more time for games, Harry interrupted, "When I spoke with your Mum yesterday Warren was with her. He has information and maybe the means that will help us bring Malvado to justice. I need to talk with him."
Hugo took some time to contemplate then finally said, "I can't tell you. But I can help you find him."
The boy was playing hardball. For most of their conversation he answered as briefly as he could, never sharing more information than required. Hugo was holding back. He wanted to come with him to find Warren and Malvado and unless Harry agreed, the interview was over.
"Let me think about it," Harry answered, already thinking he could get to Warren through some other means. "There's breakfast in the kitchen."
Harry made for the door taking the picture of Hermione with him and said to his son, "I'm telling your Dad and your Aunt Ginny about you later today. Do you want to be around for that?"
The response was quick.
"No."
Harry stepped out, the sound of Weasleys and Potters floating up the stairwell from the kitchen. He walked away from it for at that exact moment, the Potter kitchen was the last place he wanted to be in.
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Jessie was magically blindfolded and could not see a thing. Immediately regretting her earlier decision to accept Warren's invitation without much question, she wanted to go back to the Ministry, or at least call her husband to tell him where she was. He would be so pissed if she got killed for trusting the untrustworthy ex-Auror.
"I shouldn't have come," she muttered out loud to the man who had just confiscated her phone and was pulling her by the hand.
"Too late, you're here," Warren Gates answered dryly.
Jessie could never tell when he was joking or not. She could hear laughing in the background, drunken men, flirting women.
"Are we in a brothel?" she blurted out, a bit scandalized.
"How do you know? Been to a few before?"
"Of course not!"
Heat rushed to her face. Warren was abrasive; always was. He enjoyed provoking others that way. She kept her mouth shut the rest of the way and listened to the distant voices of locals cajoling and teasing in a foreign language. She told herself that this was the right thing to do. Warren didn't give her time to decide or much of an option. His Patronus said that he had information about Hermione and he would not tell anyone else except her.
They continued to walk through what felt like a narrow corridor, turning around corners maybe four or five times until they came to a complete stop. Warren knocked on wood softly and she heard a door creak open. It closed shut after they came in and a warm muggy atmosphere welcomed them.
Warren took the blindfolds off. It took a moment to fully adjust to the brightly lit room but when she did she could not believe her eyes. They were in an obsolete Muggle infirmary, well, at least that's what it looked like from her memory of textbook pictures. A gathering of women in white frocks were around the one patient attached to several Muggle healing devices. A crucifix hung neatly at the head of the bed as repetitive prayers followed the rustle of rosary beads over the intermittent warnings from the monitors.
She saw Warren light one of the many candles beside the entrance and cross himself. Jessie regained her bearings and capacity for communication then motioned over to the patient who lay still on the bed.
"Is that who I think it is?" she hissed.
"Yes," he answered back in a hushed voice.
"Seriously."
"Cross my heart and hope to die."
"Then why isn't she in St. Mungo's and who's the woman in my freezer?!"
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