Chapter Thirty-Three: The Conspirator
It was a long haul back. The suction and pull intense. Harry stumbled as they landed on the far side of the Portal, but
Krieg quickly righted him.
"Thanks," Harry fought to refill his lungs, gaining a footing to look about their newest destination. "Mind telling where we're at now?" he seemed disgruntled.
The room was black, solid black - if even it were a room. He could see Krieg and the fallen Dolohov, as if a spot light were shinning down upon them, but there was no source, nothing overhead. Just that pitched blackness, as if staring off into an unending, vast cavern.
Every which way he looked, there was nothing. His feet were definitely standing on something, but even there, when he looked down to them... endless void.
"Take out your cloak," Krieg spoke hastily. "Get yourself out of sight, quickly now."
Harry paused, looking to him curiously. "Why, what's the-?"
"Unless you wish to answer many an uneasy question, I would suggest you hurry."
That was all Krieg need say. Harry promptly had his cloak from his pouch. Whipping it by one end to unfurl it, he draped it over his head, disappearing beneath.
"Astricta!" Harry cast, yet another useful little spell he'd learned from Krieg. His cloak abruptly folded in on him, hugging his body like being sucked by a vacuum, fitting now like a tight suit. He'd learned to perform a Disillusionment Charm as well as any, but nothing could work as absolute as his cloak.
He'd no more than vanished, their own portal still lingering behind them, than the air before them began to stir with the opening of yet another portal. There was a slight swooshing sound, and then one, two, three wizards glided out its swirling gate.
Harry did not recognize two of them, though they were obviously Aurors, evidenced by their black cloaks and the way they carried themselves. The one, however, who stood at the center between the other two, Harry knew well. None other than the Minister of Magic himself, Kingsley Shacklebolt, stepped forward.
There was a long, silent pause between Krieg and Shacklebolt as the two faced off, passing unspoken words. The Minister of Magic turned and nodded to one of his men, jerking his head towards the fallen Dolohov. His man understood the silent command, as he then stepped forward to kneel and scan his wand over the dead Death Eater. The Auror nodded in the affirmative back up to his leader.
"Take him," Shacklebolt was short. The Auror lifted Dolohov with his wand, and they both vanished within the still open portal from whence the three came. "You may return with them," he dismissed his second man.
"The plan was for you to locate him, and return here for backup," Shacklebolt stated his displeasure with haste, once he and Krieg were seemingly alone.
"Plans do have a way of going awry," Krieg responded shrewdly.
"What happened?" Shacklebolt shot back.
"Dolohov deemed it better to take his own life, than return to Azkaban," Krieg said without emotion.
"And Harry?"
"I left him at the school," Krieg lied, but he had no sooner said this, than Shacklebolt's eyes glanced to where the invisible Harry stood. Harry held his breath, willing himself to be unfound.
"You went with him?"
"I did," Krieg admitted.
"But..." Shacklebolt betrayed a hint of astonishment, before correcting himself. "McGonagall will not like this," he went on. "Not at all."
"What she does not know..." Krieg implied. Shacklebolt did not seemed pleased himself at this, but he nevertheless nodded at Krieg's suggestion.
"I do not believe she has been entirely honest with us herself..." Shacklebolt added.
"I am aware," Krieg said rapidly, as if trying to head the Minister off.
"Some interesting things have recently come to light, about Dumbledore and-"
"I believe she intends to tell Harry in due course, but that is all a more personal matter we should leave to her," Krieg said sharply.
"You seem to be well informed on the matter?"
"You forget that my grandfather was a close confidant of Dumbledore's once."
"You speak of Grindelwald?" Shacklebolt spoke the name almost reverently. Krieg nodded. "Then it's true?"
"I am not able to confirm such things, and would have to revert you back to McGonagall. I trust her judgment."
"Dumbledore hid the records deep. Has she mentioned-?"
"She has not told me anything more than I need to know, to help Harry with his preparation that is," Krieg once again interrupted the Minister. "Do you have the next file?" he promptly changed the subject.
"Will you stick to the plan this time? There are some strange things going about, and I have a strong suspicion that this is all somehow intertwined..."
"I will do all that I can, and all that is necessary," Krieg said, holding out his hand. Shacklebolt reluctantly placed the next file and signature within it.
. . . .
As much as Harry wished to turn on Krieg the moment they arrived back at Hogsmeade, and demand of him answers to that coded conversation he's had with Shacklebolt, he did not. He knew Krieg well enough by now, enough to know that he wouldn't be getting any direct answers out of him. If Harry wanted the truth, he'd have to go about it more cleverly.
It was already morning, as the two walked back to the castle in silence, Harry still under his cloak.
"So, who is it?" Harry asked the question he knew he could get an answer to. They had finally reached the winding staircase nearing his little corner of the castle, where it was safe to talk.
"Augustus Rookwood," Krieg answered flatly. Harry's fists balled up. Without seeing Rookwood's list of atrocities, he knew one name he would find there, Fred Weasley, and it made his fire burn.
"Shouldn't we be going to the Astronomy Tower?" Harry practically demanded. Krieg crooked one of his rare smiles at this.
"You did well last night, Harry. But I know from personal experience, that transporting one's self through the Invesio, much less two, and all the way to Russia, that it can take a lot out of you. You should try to get some rest, I need you to be at your best when we go after him."
"I'm not tired," Harry defended.
"That's all very well," Krieg said. "You'll get your chance soon enough," they reached the top corridor. "We'll meet again tonight."
"What was it that you and Shacklebolt were talking about? About Dumbledore hiding records, and then McGonagall?" He knew it would be a fruitless endeavor, and it was, but it was eating him up inside. Whatever it was, he knew it had everything to do with him.
Harry had not expected an honest response from Krieg, but what he got instead was perhaps even more troubling. Krieg frowned a deep, sorrowful frown. Harry started, about to go on at this, but just then, the two were interrupted by heavy, rapid footfalls coming flying up the staircase at the end of the hall. Harry knew who it was the second he saw the flash of red hair.
. . . .
"Er..." Ron paused in his tracks as he saw only Krieg turned towards him, standing alone. He referenced a worn piece of parchment he had in his hand, before looking back up, more convinced.
"Harry?" he called knowingly, glancing back once more, just to be sure.
Harry did not try to fight it. Releasing the spell on his cloak, he let it run off him like water, crumpling to the floor. "Ron?" he answered, though his words were strained and tugged deep at his heart - more than anything else, he had not expected this.
Ron was left speechless as he stared with bewilderment at his old friend. Harry had already changed a great deal since leaving for Australia, until he'd seen him once again in the basement of Grimmauld, but now... Ron had to rub at his eyes, as if they were deceiving him. Harry had changed. Harry had... grown up?
"I think I'll leave you two alone," Krieg slyly dismissed himself. The two waited until they could no longer hear Krieg moving down the staircase before either began again.
"Harry, I... s-sorry..." Ron managed a curt smile, though ruefuly, holding up the parchment by one hand. Harry recognized it at once. He'd last seen it in his trunk in his room. "I - I knew you were here somewhere, just didn't know how to find you, and... and then I found myself wishing I had the Maurader's Map so I tried Accio'ing it, and... what do you know?!" he chuckled impishly, looking half-afraid Harry might send him tumbling back down the stairs once again. But Harry didn't.
"That was pretty clever," Harry complimented him, letting the faintest of smiles show across his face.
"Ha, yeah! Surprise even myself sometimes!" Ron grinned uneasily. Something was obviously bothering him. "Here, I..." Ron took a step forward, holding out the map to return it.
"No," Harry stopped him. "You keep it."
"Er... yeah, okay..." Ron said, glancing it over once more before dropping his hand back to his side. "I'll keep it safe," he felt the need to add.
"I know you will. Ron... It's really good to see you again," Harry said suddenly. "I... it feels like it's been so long.
Ron looked back up at his old friend with surprise. "Yeah, you too, Harry. Too long. How've you been?" Ron asked with genuine concern, studying Harry carefully.
"Never mind me," Harry ignored his question. "How about you? - Hermione?" he barely managed her name.
"Oh?!" Ron startled at this. "Yes, well, er..." Ron started awkwardly, fidgeting in place. It was an ominous sign.
"Ron?" Harry took a cautious step forward, not noticing as his hand started to tremble unwittingly.
"Some weird things have been going on around here recently, Harry, and, yeah... just last night as a matter of fact..." Ron trailed off, suddenly having second thoughts about all this now that he was actually in Harry's intimidating presence. He glanced back over his shoulder, as if looking for a route to escape.
"Ron?" Harry implored once again, almost urgently.
"Hermione... she's, er... I can't seem to find her," Ron shrunk back a step, trying to pass it off as coincidence, but it did not hold. "I think... well, the other night in the Library..." Ron was choking on his own words. "And then last night.... Harry, she's gone missing..." he admitted gravely.
Ron had no sooner finished speaking than there was a violent crack that reverberated around the hall, like the shattering stone, the booming of canon. "Agh!" Ron's very head seemed to split with the force and emotion of it all.
Ron clenched at his pinging ears, ducking as a billow of dust rippled through the hall, half expecting the ceiling to be collapsing down atop him. Harry stood simmering, soon to reach a boiling point.
"What do you mean, can't find her?" Harry's demanded through clenched teeth, though pronouncing each word and each syllable most distinctly. "Missing?!" the word seemed to hiss through his lips in Parsel.
"She - she went running off last night... after the dance that is. Apparated - right out of Hogsmeade. I... I tried to follow her," Ron told, but before he could finish, he was hit by an intense spell, falling back a step, the grip of the hex all that was keeping him standing, as his mind was overcome by Harry's Legilimens.
His memories began speeding through his mind at a blinding pace, until he was back in that Library. They slowed as he and Hermione heard the book fall behind them, as Hermione went off in search of the source, as Ron just stood there. They scanned forward until he heard Hermione's scream. They trailed, almost painfully, as he found her passed out on the floor. They stayed carefully, almost tenderly upon her, as he walked her back to her room.
Then they were rushing forward again, past Dean and Seamus in the corridors, past Harry's fight in the Pitch, past the Halloween Ball, to Hermione running out the castle and Ron giving chase. And then there was Ginger. "Ron..." her voice was low, nothing more than a breath. "I... there is something I need to tell you about."
"Take me to her!" Harry's voice was pitched, bordering on insanity.
. . . .
She was still in her room at Rosemerta's, awaiting them. She threw her brush down on the vanity, unable to focus, and unable to withstand the surmounting anxiety.
The brush bounced off the small table and landed on the floor. She swept her hand to catch it by reflex, but of course she missed it, and instead knocked her perfume and a several other trinkets off onto the floor as well in the process.
She was a nervous wreck. Even though it was still early morning, she was tempted to order a drink. She had not gotten a wink of sleep last night.
Working at the Dueling Damsels, she caught wind of a lot of stories and rumors. There were not many who could resist her charms. Some called her the Keeper of Secrets. Others, the Teller. She was renown in certain circles, but that all depended whether the price was right.
When the one of Harry Potter passed through, of him being taken captive in India... she knew at once that she was responsible for it. She had sold his secret.
She couldn't stand it. She had never felt like this before. The words Whoreand Traitor and Scarlet kept assaulting her by day and night. She had sold them both. The Savior of Great Britain, and... and her love.
Her love... Did she know of such a thing? And she and Ron had only known each other such a short amount of time, but... she loved him. She loved George too, just like a brother, and Lee Jordan, and even Ron's Mum and Dad had been so kind to her, that one and only time she had met them by accident at George's shop. And she had sold them all out.
She knew Harry was in trouble, that there were bad wizards about, up to no good. The rumors grew darker and darker as as the tale spread, all delivered by the foulest and cruelest of mouths. And she knew by her Ron's proximity to the Boy-Who-Lived, that he would be swept up in it too. She just had to do something - anything. But Ron wasn't responding to her letters... so she came here in search of him.
After she told him all she knew last night, Ron had only proven himself ever more to her. By those she was accustom to, she had expected him to strike her. To at least curse her. But there was a reason he was one of Harry Potter's best friends, a reason he was one of the Golden Trio, and it shined ever brighter in him when he had not so much as cast her out, nor refused her, but he had actually asked her to stay.
He had to find Harry - someway, somehow he would find Harry... and he would bring him back here. It was this thought that wrecked her so. She did not know how he intended to find the Boy who had not been seen nor heard of in months, who had a motley crew of dark bounty hunters searching around every corner, under every stone for him, but if any could, she knew her Ron would, and that would mean she would come face to face with the vanquisher of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and she would have to admit her treachery, all over again, to that wizard. She could not picture him being so kind to her.
She nearly fell out her chair when the knock came on the door. So soon? Her Ron stepped through first, followed by none other...
"Oh!" she gasped, lifting a delicate hand to her gaped mouth. This was not the boy she had seen in all the papers. He... Those black robes. That rigid frame. That threatening, urgent look in his simmering, green, emerald eyes. He frightened her.
"Mundungus Fletcher!" she just blurted out.