Unofficial Portkey Archive

Harry felt smart and proactive right up until he got to his desk that morning. He had been confident that leaving early in the morning, on only two hours of sleep, had been a wise choice. On his walk through the Ministry he had congratulated himself for having the forethought to not wake Hermione when he left. He rewarded himself mentally for stepping directly out of the middle of a gigantic mess of a breakup by avoiding both parties, and Hermione in particular. No sir, Harry was not about to be shackled to that sinking ship. He was much too smart for that.

Then he got to his desk. Sitting on top of his desk was a cup of coffee. Standing beside the desk and, by virtue of available space, the coffee was Ron. Harry kicked himself mentally for managing to forget that one of the people involved in the sinking ship, H.M.S. Romione, was Ron, his partner. He then remembered the still vivid events of the latest attempt on his life, and that they required the manipulation of the Floo Network. He gave his mental self a blackened eye and a fat lip for forgetting that he had asked for Hermione's help in getting the back logs to look into the Floo Network oddity. All in all, for it being so early in the morning, Harry was not pleased with himself.

"Good morning partner." Ron said cheerfully, too cheerfully for a man just broken up with his long term girlfriend if one were to ask Harry. Harry carefully sat down and put the cellphone on his desk.

"Morning."

"I brought you coffee."

"I noticed this."
"Any idea what we're going to do today?"
"Not a one, you got an idea?"
"I may have one or two, yeah."
"Okay, where do you want to start?"
"How about with this." Ron dropped a file on Harry's desk.

The file was from Lavender and had the name Harris Podwell highlighted from list of under-aged people who had used magic during the date and time of Harry's now infamous birthday party. He was highlighted because the occurrence of his unauthorized use of magic was both repeated and at the location of Harry's abandoned flat.

"Why do you have this?"
"Lavender came round my desk this morning and asked if I could get it to you."
"Boy does she ever have a big mouth." Harry grinned, "Also, I can explain."
"Can you? Because this doesn't seem like working together to me. This seems like you bypassing our partnership, for one, and the law of this land for another."
"Well, yeah, but, you know,I looked dashing while I did it."
"Why have I been chasing down dead leads on the Malfoy case when you're actually doing the work on the case we were assigned? Was the Malfoy thing a distraction? Keep me busy so I don't get in the way?"
"No." Harry shook his head, "The Malfoy case is connected. I can feel it."
"It's your ridiculous hunch, why am I the one doing it?"
"I wanted to spare you having to see Lavender?" Harry offered up.
"Bullshit."
"Totally."
"What's going on, Harry? Are you kicking me to the curb?"
"No. Not really. I just..." He smiled what he hoped was a winning smile, "I just tend to do better on my own."
"I don't give a rat's balls what you do better on! This is our case!"
"I know, I know. You're right."

"I bloody damn well know I'm right."
"Look, from here on out you're involved in every step of this investigation."
"That's all I wanted."
"Good. Great. Now then. Thank you for the coffee."
Ron eased up and pulled a chair, seemingly from nowhere, up and had a seat next to Harry, "So, any new developments?"
"Nope." Harry lied, "But I'll let you know if there are." He lied further.
"Okay. Well, I'll be at my desk."

"Super. See you in a bit."
Ron got up and dragged the chair back over to his desk. Harry, now alone again, let out a great relieved sigh. He enjoyed his last few minutes of relatively headache free time before he grabbed his coffee and left the Auror offices. He walked up to Hermione's desk, found it empty, and sat in her chair to wait for her. He was only in the chair for a few minutes before she showed up, looking like she had skipped her morning shower, meal and grooming regimen. She indicated that Harry get out of her chair. He got up, let her sit down and plopped the coffee in front of her.
"I got you a coffee." He added another to his pile of lies.
"Thanks, where were you this morning?"
"I was out getting this coffee."
"Well, it's much appreciated. I feel like hell warmed over."
"You look great."
"Thanks." She took a sip of the coffee and looked slightly more alive, "So about last night-"
"You make any headway on that paper work?"
"Yeah, I finished it before I came in." She handed him a sheet of paper, rolled up and tied with a red and blue ribbon.
"You're the best." He started to walk off, but was stopped when Hermione's hand made its way around his forearm.
"Harry."
He swallowed the lump in his throat and turned to face her, "Yeah?"
"You're in an awful hurry. Stay awhile. I was hoping to chat about everything we said last night."
"I'm actually pretty busy, later perhaps?"
"Please, just a few minutes?"
"Okay, fine. But let's keep it down."
"Okay, great."

Harry sat down on top of her desk and leaned forward so he could speak in conspiratorial tones, "What did you want to ask?"
"Did you mean what you said last night. That you feel that way about me?"
"How many times do I have to tell you?" he answered nervously.
"At the very least once more."
"Yeah. I meant every word. I have for some time. But you knew that."
"I know, it's just... Everything is different now."
"Did you mean what you said? Are you hoping to give us a shot?"
"Oh, Harry. Absolutely. I've been waiting for this since I was eleven."
"Are you sure?"
"Why do you sound so... I don't know, accusatory isn't the right word."
"I'm just a careful kind of guy."
"There is a limit to careful. Paranoia shares a border with careful."
"So it does. Look we don't have to make any decisions right this second. Let's talk later."
"How's tonight?" She sat forward in her chair eagerly.
"Let me get back to you, this case and everything."
"Uh..."
"Don't worry. I'll let you know."
He sprang up and raced off, away from her and the unanswered questions lingering there. He played the conversation back in his head, brief though it was. He had told her that tonight might not be doable, in as many words and for a second her eye line faltered. He suspected she was disappointed, he just didn't know about what. It could easily be that she was telling him the truth, that she really did care for him the way he did for her, that she was confused by his sudden brush off. However it could easily be that she was hoping to strike while the iron was hot to make Ron upset. Sure it didn't seem like the Hermione sort of thing to do, but when Luna and Neville called it quits she cast a spell that had him smelling like skunk for a week. That seemed very un-Luna-like at the time as well. Harry knew that heartbreak did weird things to people. He also knew that regardless of the answer, he was still undecided as to whether or not he wanted to involve himself. He was leaning in the direction of not.
He rounded a corner, lost completely in his own thoughts, and plowed headlong into someone. He went down, the rolled up forged documents clutched tightly in his hand. Opposite him he saw a flash of red hair, and long thin legs. He stood up and offered a hand to help up the woman he had attacked.
"Well, if it isn't Ginny Weasely. Returned from the where-are-they-now category." He joked as she got to her feet.
"If it isn't Harry Potter, the Boy-who-lets-his-sense-of-humor-do-the-talking-these-days" She chimed back.
"What brings you down to the Ministry?" He wondered aloud before he remembered he was headed somewhere, "You know what, hold that thought. I'm actually on the run here. Sorry for knocking you down." He set off once more in his previous direction, only to realize that Ginny was following him.
"Where are you headed?"
"On or off the record?"
"I'm not a journalist all the time." She winked, "Sometimes I catch up with old friends."
"But you're a journalist right now, yeah?"
"You caught me. I came to see Ron, actually. I heard he was working the Potter Birthday Attack case."
"He is. Right man for the job and all that."
"So are you enjoying having a partner, Mr. Potter?"
"Inquiring minds want to know."
"Come on, Harry. Give me a short interview. For old times' sake."
"The last time I gave you something for old times' sake you called me a prancing buffoon in print."
"I was eighteen. Cut a girl some slack."
"So at twenty-two you're much more mature?"
"I am, thank you very much. Look at us, having a civil, if strained, conversation. No one is calling the other names, no one is throwing out hexes."
"I never hexed you."
"Fine, I'm not throwing out hexes. I've grown."
"Yeah, perhaps you are." He stopped walking, not wanting to give her any ammunition for the Quibbler, "Look I'm in a pretty big hurry, Ron is down at his desk."
"Ron is nice, but Harry Potter on record is better. You haven't released a single statement to the press about this so far. Did you know that?"
"Really? I could've sworn I threw a press conference." He pretended for a minute to think, "No wait, I didn't, you're right. I confused a press conference with having my teeth pulled again. I must stop doing that."
"Why are you being so evasive today, Mr. Potter?"
"Ginny, must we? Right this minute? You're going to give me a brain tumor."
"Are you confirming the existence of a brain tumor?"
"Yup. I'm a goner. Any second now could be my last. I just want all the readers out there to know that my last thoughts were good and noble and about chocolate chip biscuits."
"You know, the Harry Potter I knew didn't crack wise all the time. He was a serious crusader for justice."
"I'm an Auror. How am I not crusading for justice?"
"Why not let the people know?"
"A man gets secretive when he has a fatal brain tumor."
"Are you going to at least pretend to answer one of my questions?"
"Look, are you going to run the brain tumor story?"
"Absolutely not."
"Then I'm wasting my time here. Have a nice day."
"Harry, wait-" But he couldn't hear her, he had taken off at a flat run.
He ran straight for the elevator, turned on the spot once inside and hit the "close door" button just in time to see Ginny safely behind the doors when they closed. He then hit the appropriate button for the floor he wanted, and got out amidst several floating paper airplanes, each with their own destinations. He walked into Neville's office and sat down in the chair in front of the desk. Neville looked up at Harry over a late breakfast and watched him throw the scroll on top of the desk.
"What is this?" Neville asked after swallowing some of his egg sandwich.
"Divorce papers, would you sign them so I can just get on with my life?"
Neville unrolled the scroll and read over it quickly, "You want the back logs on the Floo Network?"
"Is that what these are?" Harry snatched the paper and looked over it, "Well then, the last two or so months should do nicely."
"Whatever for?"
"I like a little light reading while I use the Loo."
"Well, okay then, I guess. I'll have them sent to your desk."
"Make sure they come to my desk. Not Ron's, not Mabel's, Mine."
"Okay, yeah. Sure. Is this about the attack on your flat?"
"We're looking into all possibilities right now."
"I run a tight ship here, Harry. I assure you."
"And I believe that. I don't even want these, it's just a formality."
"Of course. You'll get them."
"Thanks, Neville. You're a pal."
"No problem, Harry."
When Harry got out of Neville's office he found Ginny waiting for him. He sighed audibly.
"Why are you following me?"
"What did you need with the Head of Magical Transportation?"

"My brain tumor is contagious, we shared a sandwich. He's awful broken up about it."
"A contagious brain tumor, this really is news. I can see the story already, " She put both arms out, "Potter case takes sudden twist as lead Auror on the case, Harry Potter (23), seems to believe that the Floo Network was somehow involved. Mr. Potter was not available for comment."
"And this is why no one likes journalists." Harry nodded as though confirming a hunch, "You're all a bunch of self serving wankers."
"Be that as it may, you give me an exclusive interview for the Quibbler and the 'Brain Tumor' story never runs. What do you say?"
"Fine, but I have full editorial rights about anything pertaining to the case. Got it?"
"Done and done, Mr. Potter."
"Ginny, quick question, just as friends."
"Sure, Harry. What's up?"
"How's Ron doing? I heard through the grape vine that something went down last night."
"That's a good grape vine. Where might I find such a reliable grape vine?"
"Work in law enforcement, we have the best grape vines."
"Well, he seemed alright this morning, but who can tell with him? He does little more than sulk and work his cases lately. Why do you ask?"
"He's my best friend."
"True, but why do you really ask?"
"This is how you talk to your friends?"
"My friends are secretive."
"I'm an open book, Ginny. I always have been."
"Maybe so, but you're written in Korean."
"Yeah, but it's a handsome language." He shrugged, "Well, I'm off."
"Harry, that interview? My place, tonight?"
"Yeah, sounds fine."
Harry turned on the spot and took the lift back down. He was never excited about having to deal with the press, but at least this made for a good excuse not to visit Hermione that evening. He shook his head slowly and thought about how hard relationships were to maintain. He was at least amicable with Ginny, but he wasn't exactly on the best of terms with her. In fact, most of the time he was fighting off the urge to seal his head in an iron box and pretend she didn't exist. She made a bad habit of sending mixed signals. He was never sure if she was over him or not and his time with her was a chapter that he wanted desperately to close.
He was still debating the virtues of being single when the elevator doors opened. He walked to the Auror offices, taking a slight detour to look around the Floo Chimneys. He didn't expect to find anything, but at least he looked. He made a mental note to see if the janitorial crew had found anything of interest in the area that morning. Knowing that he was incapable of remembering to do anything unless he wrote it out he turned and headed for his desk.
When he got there he saw a crowd of Aurors huddled around it. In the lead was Mabel, Ron right behind her. There were digitized musical notes rising from his desk. He walked closer and Ron turned to him.
"What is that?" He pointed at the cell phone, lit up and shaking about in place on Harry's desk, "And why is it making that noise?"
"It's a phone, and it's ringing." He answered.
"That doesn't look like a phone." Mabel said, "When I took muggle studies all the phones had cords and such."
"The world is a fast changing place." Harry mused as he picked up the phone, "Harry Potter." He voiced into the phone.
"Mr Potter." Came the voice on the other end, "My name is Inspector Wainwright. I understand that you inquired about Agnes Agnew?"
"Yeah, I did. Has she turned up?"

"In a manner of speaking. She's dead I'm afraid." The line went silent. Harry grabbed a pen and bit of paper."
"Oh my God. When? How?"
"We found her last night. Her prints just came back this morning. It looks like she jumped off a building."
"Oh Jesus." Harry said as he jotted down the information, "I don't suppose you lot could be mistaken?"
"Afraid not. Sorry, sir. We were hoping you could come down this afternoon. We have a few questions we'd like to ask, just a formality."
"Of course. I'll be in around two. Thank you, sir."
Harry ended the call, he turned to face Ron and Mabel and held up the bit of paper covered in his illegible scribble, "The Muggle authorities just found Agnes Agnew."
"Where is she?" Ron blurted.
"Agnes Agnew?" Mabel questioned.
"She's in the city morgue." Harry answered Ron.
"We need one of our teams to look at her." Mabel said, "Muggle police won't know what to look for."
"Yeah. I've got a plan for that." Harry grinned, "Mab, put in a word with Shacklebolt. We need a cover."
"What cover?"
"Me and Ron are going to have to be in Her Majesty's Secret Service."
"Okay. Stand by, I'll be back in a bit."

* * *

Mabel was sitting in a chair in Shacklebolt's office, staring a hole into the book case flanking her. He had been gone for nearly a half an hour before finally the bookcase rotated on a hinge and he walked through. He sat as his desk and handed her some paper work.
"The muggle Prime Minister has cleared it with his people. Those are the documents and whatnot Harry and Ron will need."
"Thanks, Minister."
"Not at all. Let's get the ball rolling on this."
"Will do."
Mabel stood and walked, at a brisk enough pace to gather sweat, back down to the Auror offices . Harry and Ron were standing by Potter's desk, Harry appeared to be explaining to Ron how guns worked, as they would both have to carry what Harry informed her was called a sidearm. She put the paperwork down on Harry's desk.
"Okay, boys. These are your badges and paperwork. One of you," She held up one of the badges, "Will be Alexander Thorchstone, the other," she held up the other, "Will be Yancy Dirvelgoth."
"I call Thorchstone." Ron shouted ahead of Harry.
"Damn." Harry kicked something imaginary at his feet.
"You know where to go, you know what to say?" Mabel asked.
"Yeah. Ron's thick about muggles, so I'll be doing the talking. We'll have Agnew's body in custody in no time."
"Great. Once that's done you'll need to stay undercover." Mabel paused, but when no arguments were leveled against her she continued, "We need to find out why this girl disappeared for three years and then suddenly turned up dead."
"Also, we may want to find out why a pure blood cult leader was known to publicly date a muggle." Ron tilted his head.
"Truer words. Good luck, boys. Bring Mommy home something interesting."
"On it."

* * *

Harry and Ron stood next to the muggle car the Ministry felt would approximate a Secret Service Agent. What frustrated Harry, more than the fact that the Ministry believed that that car should be a VW bus circa the seventies, was how Ron didn't see a problem with it.
"This simply won't do."
"What's the matter with it?"

"Well, for starters it's a van."
"What's wrong with a van?"
"It's a van, Ron. What's not wrong with a van?"

"Is there a difference?"
"To you and me? No. To muggle law enforcement? Oh, Merlin. Yes."
"Well, I think it's wonderful."
"Ron, explain to me the purpose of an ignition key."
"Does it.. ignite things?"
"Yeah, Ron. It's a real fire starter."
"Great." Ron smiled.

"We need something two door and black." Harry scrutinized, "Does the Ministry have anything like that?"
"Not right now. This is it."
"Then we need to make a stop."
"Where?"
"An automotive dealership."
"What are we going to do there?"
"Bluff."
Harry and Ron got into the car. Since their near-death adventure with the formerly flying car Ron's father used to own, Harry had taken some classes on driving. He liked to be ready for any kind of situation. Which is why, without blowing up or hitting anything at outrageous speeds, he managed to get them from the Ministry parking lot to a car dealership. He got out of the van, grimaced at its lime green and white paint job and told Ron to stay put for a bit. He then went inside the dealership.
Ron sat and watched Harry speaking with a man in a plaid suit through the giant glass window of the dealership. The conversation seemed to go well. Apparently the sleek black suit Harry was wearing gained him some form of prestige in the muggle world. In a few moments Harry came out with a set of keys in his hands. He opened the door and told Ron he had gotten them a car.
"What happened?" Ron asked.
"We have to leave the van behind."
"Why?"
"I told the guy that I was rich, and that my luxury vehicle was in the shop. I asked if I could get a car as a loner until mine was out of shop."
"And he just agreed?"
"I may have told him that you were royalty."
"Well, that's good for me."
"Sure is buddy." Harry took the van keys and raised them in the air so the man in the plaid suit could see them before he squeezed them under the driver side front tire, "We're leaving the van as collateral."
"It is a nice van." Ron agreed.
"It most certainly is not, but I told the guy that we had picked it up for cheap."
"So why does he believe we'll return for it?"
"Well that's when it all fell apart. I flashed my new badge, he didn't want to get hauled in for hindering an active investigation. How many more questions have you got?" Harry had lead them to a two-door, black sedan.
"About a dozen. I don't get out in the muggle world much."
"Just get in the damn car."
"Why is this a car and that a van?"
"Because the car has girl parts and the van has boy parts."
"Ah."
Harry got behind the driver seat, turned the key and sped out of the lot. They arrived at the local police station just before one in the afternoon. Harry lead the way through the place, flashing his fake badge and demanding at the front desk to speak with the head officer of the homicide division. They were then lead through many offices, which Ron noted didn't look that much different than the ones he and Harry worked out of, before being brought into the office of a tired looking black man in his late forties.
"How can I help you, agents?" He said in his tall tired way.
"We're going to need to confiscate all of your files on the Agnew slaying. Also, we'll need the body."
"Why, might I ask?"
"You might."
"Let's say I am."
"You are."
"Why is your branch talking interest in this case? She was nothing more than a homeless girl. Sad to say, but they end up dead with surprising regularity."
"Look, mate. I just do the job. I don't ask questions."
"I can understand that." The detective sighed, "Okay. I can give you all the file work now, but we have to drop off the body. What location would you like us to that?"
"Nothing to worry about. We'll take care of it." Harry nodded at Ron, "Have someone show my colleague where Ms. Agnew is being kept."
"Okay. Fine. Less paper work, at least."
"We could all do with less of that." Harry smiled. He then whispered in Ron's ear, "Try to pop up in the van, I'll be around shortly there after." Ron nodded and soon another cop was there to escort him to the morgue.
"Okay, agent...?"
"Dirvelgoth. Yancy Dirvelgoth." Harry smiled.
"Okay, Agent Dirvelgoth, the file work will be collected and brought to us shortly."
"Wonderful."
"Have a seat."
"Sure, thanks." Harry sat, as did the Detective.
"So," The detective began after an uncomfortable pause, "you know anything about the Thames strangulations?"
"Nothing really, I would be speculating."
"I don't mind. Could use all the help we can get on that one."
"We don't like to speculate. Sorry."
After several more attempts made by the Detective at small talk, a young man came into the room with a box full of paperwork labeled "Agnew" in red marker along the right edge. He gave it to Harry. Harry said good day to the police and left the building. He drove back to the dealership, returned the car, retrieved the keys from the van and climbed inside. Ron was sitting in the back with a large black bag, zipper up the front of it, which undoubtedly contained the remains of Agnes Agnew. Harry started the car and headed back to the Ministry.
"How'd it go?" Ron asked.
"It went well."
"Why did we need to be Secret Service Agents?"
"Because, Ron, muggle or wizard all people respond to one thing."
"That is?"
"The authority of a person higher up on the chain of command."
"You have a pleasant outlook on the world. Anyone ever mentioned that to you?"
"Sure they do."
"And you ignore them?"
"I have a selective memory."

"How does that help?"
"Good question, I'm glad you asked it." Harry paused, "What were we talking about?"
"Ah. Right there with you know." Ron smiled, "Let's give Mommy an early birthday present."
"She does love her decaying human bodies."
"Really, who doesn't. Excellent throw rugs they make."
"They do at that."
Harry turned into the Ministry parking lot. He pulled some scrap paper from the glove box and wrote a note to Mabel, letting her know they were back. He folded it into a paper airplane and cast a charm on it. With in minutes of it's disappearing toward the upper levels a team came down to move the body. Harry and Ron grabbed the box filled with police files and headed for their desks. When Harry arrived at his desk he saw a file with a note attached to it sitting on his desk. The note was from Neville. He tucked both quickly into a drawer before Ron could see it.
Ron returned from his desk with his chair and the two began to tear through the paperwork on Agnes Agnew, making a time line of events for her life between her disappearance from the wizarding world to her death in muggle London. They worked well into the night, until an owl came for Harry. The missive was from Ginny. It said, "You're late. My place. Now. -Ginny."