All For You - Chapter 27
Chapter 27
Ghost analysed his work and nodded satisfactorily before moving on to the next and then the next. Harry had been set a series of tasks, each designed to demonstrate his knowledge and ability with intricate magicks.
“Your work is flawless, Mr Jameson,” he commented curiously. “Either you are the most naturally gifted wizard I have met, or you have undergone significant training.”
“It is the latter,” Harry admitted unashamedly, “but I am unable to discuss it.”
Ghost chuckled amusedly.
“Say no more,” he urged. “Our own practices are most secret. It seems to me, Mr Jameson, that you will require minimum training from me. Of course, there is still much that I can show you that will benefit you during your operations.”
Harry nodded.
“It does, however, make my job much easier,” Ghost continued. “Your ability with even the most delicate of tasks is certainly exceptional. Are you combat experienced?”
“More than I would like to be.”
Ghost hummed.
“That I fear is the burden men such as ourselves bear,” he murmured. “Well, I must put that to the test in due course, but for now, I require nothing else of you.”
“No more catching escaped prisoners?”
Ghost shook his head.
“We have seventy-eight of those who escaped,” he explained. “We can handle the rest. I will call for you sporadically if and when you are needed. For now, you are to remain an unknown asset to the rest of the department, save for myself and Fox.”
Harry frowned questioningly, and Ghost released a deep sigh.
“The reason you are here has not been lost on me, Jameson. You are here to investigate a clear case of corruption, and I expect many are going to be caught up in it. I am on your side, but for the sake of the department, it cannot be seen that we are aware of what you are doing, let alone offering our assistance. The murder of Lord and Lady Bones is only one of many incidents that have occurred over the years, and similar steps have been taken to prevent them from being investigated correctly. I believe that someone at the very top is compromised, but I am in no position to look into it.”
He offered Harry what he deemed to be a speculative look from within his hood before removing a trunk from his robes.
“These are those cases, Mr Jameson,” he explained. “Perhaps they will be of use to you. At the very least, I expect there are links to be made.”
“So, that is it?”
“No,” Ghost chuckled. “As I said, I will have need of you from time to time, and I will send for you to complete some additional training. I sincerely wish you the best of luck in your endeavour. I only hope that it doesn’t end up with you being another file added to these.”
He placed the trunk on the table before vanishing, and Harry stared at it for a moment before pocketing it.
Ghost was going out of his way to help him, or he was leading Harry on a wild goose chase, hoping to throw him off.
Harry had learned never to take anyone at face value, and though he wanted to see the best in Ghost’s intentions, he would remain sceptical until he knew better.
It would be foolish to be so accepting of help when there appeared to be so much risk involved in giving it.
Nonetheless, he would not be dismissive of the assistance, not when he had so little else to go on.
Following suit, Harry vanished from the place he’d been summoned to so many hours prior and returned home, where he hoped he could get a little more of the rest that had been disturbed.
(Break)
He poured himself a coffee before stretching his legs out before him, taking a sip as he enjoyed the simplicity of relaxing in front of the fireplace. Despite being seemingly absent from the pursuit of his goals, the Dark Lord scarcely took a moment to himself to enjoy the monotony of such a thing.
Not that his most recent of efforts would go unnoticed.
It brought a smile to his lips to relive the screams of the citizens of Hogsmeade as their homes burned around them, though he had not stayed long, just long enough to know that the fiendfyre had taken hold.
Upon taking his leave from Britain, he returned to Albania. Here, he could live anonymously, and with the country being such a lawless haven for him, it was where he’d chosen to reside when he wasn’t travelling.
Still, it would not be so long before he returned to Britain.
He could not remain absent in perpetuity when there was so much to do.
“Ah, Lestrange,” he greeted the man as his associate entered the café.
Corvus appeared to be rather displeased, and the Dark Lord frowned.
“Hogsmeade?”
“I thought it would be fitting.”
Lestrange shook his head.
“Well, it certainly got some attention,” he sighed, placing a copy of The Daily Prophet on the table between them.
Hogsmeade Burns!
By Barnabas Cuffe
Instead of focusing on the article, the Dark Lord took in the images with a smile, though it faltered when he realised much of the village remained standing.
The fire should have reduced the entire area to ashes, and yet it had destroyed only a quarter of it.
“How?” he asked irritably. “How is it still there?”
Lestrange shrugged.
“I suppose the Aurors got there quickly enough.”
“No, it shouldn’t be possible,” the Dark Lord denied. “The Aurors don’t train to tackle fiendfyre.”
“Well, they put it out,” Lestrange pointed out unnecessarily. “The whole area is off limits now, and the Head Auror, Grimm, told the reporters to stuff it when they tried to question him. Even Leach hasn’t said anything.”
The Dark Lord could only shake his head.
“Very few people I have met throughout my life would be capable of extinguishing that fire before it would’ve wiped out the entire village,” he mused aloud. “Was Dumbledore there?”
“No,” Lestrange answered. “He was nowhere to be seen.”
“Then who could it have been?” Voldemort murmured.
He did not know, but it was an unwelcome development, to say the least.
He’d hoped that the destruction of Hogsmeade would have proven his power and motivation to those who were doubtful of his ability to follow through with his promises.
Although he’d somewhat achieved what he’d set out to do, it might not be enough.
“What has the reaction been?”
“Surprise, mostly,” Lestrange answered. “Those we have spoken of about our intentions certainly did not expect something like this. Whether they agree with what you did to the village or not, they are taking notice now. They know that you are serious, and it may just sway some of them in our favour.”
The Dark Lord hummed as he leaned back in his chair.
Perhaps his efforts had not been wasted after all.
Still, he was displeased by the interference, and the fact that no one was coming forward to take the credit for expelling the fiendfyre was as odd as it was disconcerting.
It was a magical feat that most would relish claiming.
“There are talks that maybe one of the Unspeakables did it,” Lestrange informed him quietly as he leaned in. “I’ve sent a message to Rookwood but have heard nothing from him yet. When I do, I will be in touch.”
The Dark Lord nodded.
“I wish to know, Lestrange,” he demanded. “I want to know who interfered. Find them.”
Corvus appeared to be a little uneasy before he nodded as he stood.
“I will do my best.”
“Good,” the Dark Lord replied with a forced smile. “I suppose for the time being, I still others I must convince. Worry not, Lestrange, I will not burn down any more of their precious village. We are aiming to preserve our traditions, after all.”
Corvus said nothing as he left, and the Dark Lord read the accompanying article to the images he had enjoyed, searching for any clue to the identity of the person who’d had the audacity to interfere in his plans.
(Break)
Amelia yawned tiredly at her desk. Those who’d attended the fire had been granted only an additional two hours outside their shift's start before it was business as usual, which meant she’d gotten only two hours of sleep by the time she’d returned to Harry’s, who had been oddly absent.
He’d left her a brief note explaining he’d been called away but little else, though his sudden departures were something Amelia was getting used to.
“How many people do you think died?” Imelda asked.
“It’s best not to think about it,” Amelia advised. “One of the first things you must realise about this job is that you can’t help everyone, no matter how much you wish you could. It will only play on your mind, and being distracted by those thoughts will cause you to make mistakes. It may seem harsh, but it is someone else’s job to think about that part of it.”
Imelda nodded.
“It’s not about being inhuman,” Amelia sighed, “but we still have to do our job. Just because something like last night happened, our work doesn’t stop. There will be other crimes committed and people who need our help.”
“I know,” Imelda assured her, “but things like that don’t happen often.”
“Thank Merlin,” Amelia murmured. “Did you finish your report?”
“I couldn’t sleep until I did. The faces of the people…”
Amelia nodded her understanding.
It had indeed been a harrowing experience, and it had only just begun once the fire had been extinguished.
Men, women, and children had been frantically searching for their families amongst the debris, and the screams of despair when they could not be found would haunt Amelia for the rest of her days.
Whilst the fire had been raging, she’d not noticed the smell of the seared flesh, but it had become prevalent, something akin to the lingering scent of a rather macabre eatery which served meat.
Even now, the smell clung to her despite showering repeatedly, and she expected it would remain for some time.
Still, the one saving grace they’d been granted was that they had not been tasked with retrieving what could be found of those who had perished. That unpleasant job had been given to the Department of Magical Catastrophes, who would be in the village for some days yet, clearing the remains of the buildings and bodies.
“Bones, my office,” Grimm requested as he poked his head around her door.
Amelia nodded.
“Go get yourself a coffee,” she instructed Imelda before following the Head Auror, closing his door behind her as she entered the office.
Grimm rubbed his eyes tiredly as he took a seat and gestured for her to do the same.
“What an absolute clusterfuck,” he huffed irritably.
“It is,” Amelia agreed.
Grimm shook his head and took a sip of the coffee resting on his desk before grimacing.
“Stone cold,” he groaned, offering the mug a look of displeasure. “Anyway, I’ve just gotten out of a very long meeting with Smith,” he explained. “He’s mightily cheesed off, Bones. He’s taking this one on himself.”
“He is?” Amelia asked, surprised by the revelation.
Smith had been an Auror and worked his way up to Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He was one of the very best to serve and was responsible for arresting many of the worst kind of criminals.
“He is,” Grimm reiterated. “Is your paperwork done?”
“It is.”
Grimm nodded appreciatively.
“Have you ever seen this symbol before?” he asked, pointing to a crude drawing of the green emblem that had appeared above Hogsmeade.
“No, sir,” Amelia sighed. “Have you?”
Grimm shook his head.
“It’s new to me,” he muttered as he scrutinised the image, “but it is just about the only clue we have. Some of the residents reported seeing a man milling around the village in dark robes, but no one got a good enough gander at him. Old Mrs Carter says she saw a robed man start the fire, but the old bat is off her rocker anyway, so we can’t take what she says as gospel.”
“What about memories of the event, sir?”
“Magical Catastrophes have gathered what they can, but I’m not holding out much hope, Bones. Whoever did this is responsible for eighteen deaths so far, and those are only the ones we have confirmed. I expect that number will increase in the coming days. Anyway, that is for others to concern themselves with. If anything comes up, it is to be passed to Smith, but there is something I need to discuss with you.”
“With me, sir?”
“Jameson.”
Amelia frowned at the Head Auror.
“What about him?” she asked guardedly.
Grimm released a deep breath.
“Smith and I have discussed it, and we would like him to train the entire team to deal with Fiendfyre the way he did last night,” he explained. “Our training is not proficient in combatting it, and last night proved that it is something we must include. We do not want a repeat of the incident; frankly, our response was bloody useless. Do you think he would assist us?”
“I can ask him, sir, but he might not be able to,” Amelia replied, her frown deepening. “Not that he wouldn’t want to, but it could be that he is not allowed to.”
“I understand,” Grimm replied, “but if he can, it would be invaluable.”
“I will discuss it with him,” Amelia assured the man.
“Thank you, Bones,” Grimm returned appreciatively. “Go on, I’m sure you have a stack of stuff to get through. I will undoubtedly be spending my day fending off the media. Bastards,” he added, his nostrils flaring.
Amelia nodded before leaving the office and returning to her own to find that Imelda had brought her a much-needed coffee.
“Did he say we get to finish early?” the younger woman asked hopefully.
“You don’t know Grimm well enough,” Amelia muttered. “No, it’s business as usual. Come on, we have a presence to maintain in Knockturn Alley. You’ll need to have your wits about you there.”
“Great,” Imelda said sarcastically. “I don’t even have my wits about me here.”
Amelia snorted amusedly, fighting the urge to yawn.
It had been a long night, and the day had barely begun.
Come the evening, she would be exhausted, but that was nothing new.
No one ever said being an Auror would be easy, though she had not expected the events of last night, not that anyone could’ve fathomed such a thing happening.
More concerning, however, was that no one seemed to have any idea who was behind it.
Fiendfyre was not something that was conjured accidentally, and Grimm was right; only someone who had taken leave of their senses would do so.
(Break)
Having returned to Hogwarts in the very early hours, Albus found himself in a maudlin mood from the sight that had greeted him. The smell from the smouldering village had wafted up to the castle, and the headmaster had been in a state of shock for some time whilst he processed what had occurred.
Fiendfyre.
Someone had the temerity to conjure such a vile piece of magic in one of the most populated places of magical folk in the entire country.
The very thought sent a shiver down his spine.
He’d been absent when it had happened,
Albus had made a rare trip to Nurmengard, and several had perished whilst he’d been away.
Already, several students had been collected by their parents from fear that a repeat performance may occur, and with the incident taking place so close to the castle, Albus couldn’t blame them.
Who was responsible? He didn’t know, but he couldn’t rid himself of the feeling that he knew more than he was willing to admit. There were so few people he’d come across throughout his life that would be capable of such a thing, but there was one, in particular, he couldn’t ignore, and the inclusion of the snake in the morbid emblem hanging over Hogsmeade only added credence to his thoughts.
Tom Riddle.
It had been several years since Albus had seen the young man, and the very last meeting they’d shared was one he’d never forget.
Tom had always been ambitious, cunning, and downright cruel, but to see what he’d done to himself…
The waxy skin and red eyes told the story of how deeply he’d delved into magic that should be left well alone, and that could only be detrimental to one such as Tom.
The boy hadn’t ever been the picture of balance when it came to his mental faculties, and to fall so readily into something so dangerous was foolish.
Albus released a deep breath as he lamented what a positive difference such a brilliant wizard could’ve made to society.
Despite his misgivings towards his former pupil, the headmaster wouldn’t deny the unending talent that Tom possessed. He only wished the young man had used it for the betterment of Britain instead of whatever he’d chosen to do.
“Become a monster,” Albus whispered.
There was a part of him that hoped Tom would come a cropper to his own hubris during his time away, but if nothing else, he’d always been resilient. No, Tom would’ve thrived in whatever he chose to do, and Albus couldn’t help but believe that Riddle was responsible for what happened in Hogsmeade.
“Alastor, what can I do for you?” he asked as the head of his friend appeared in the fireplace.
“A drink would be welcome,” Moody replied tiredly.
“I think we could both use one,” Albus sighed.
Only a moment later, the Auror stepped into the office, and after removing the errant ash on his robes, he sunk heavily into the chair opposite.
“I can only assume your day was a trying one,” Albus said sympathetically as he handed the man a generous measure of mead.
“Aye, it’s been one of the worst,” Alastor murmured before draining the cup. “It’s been a hell of a day.”
“Any developments?”
Alastor shrugged.
“Smith is working the case himself,” he explained. “We don’t know much other than what happened last night.”
“How did you manage to expel it?”
“We didn’t,” Alastor said darkly. “I cannot say who, but they are a mutual acquaintance of ours.”
Albus frowned thoughtfully before chuckling.
“Harry.”
“I can neither confirm nor deny it,” Moody replied firmly.
Albus didn’t need him to.
The only mutual acquaintance they shared that Albus could fathom being able to do such a thing was his former Defence Against the Dark Arts professor.
“Thank Merlin for him,” the headmaster sighed. “I must speak with him soon. I have been meaning to for a while now.”
“You want him back?”
Albus nodded.
“I would be doing a disservice to the school if I did not try.”
“Aye, he’s damned good at what he does,” Alastor said sincerely.
“He is,” Albus agreed. “I will write to him.”
“Or I could ask Bones to get a message to him,” Alastor offered. “She spends most of her time with him outside of work.”
“Are the two of them…?”
Alastor shrugged.
“She denies it, but she’s got it bad for Jameson,” he chuckled amusedly.
“He is an exceptional young man,” Albus pointed out. “I must ask why his involvement wasn’t reported?”
“If it was him, I expect he didn’t want to be hounded by the press; the same way he omitted his involvement in capturing Greyback.”
Albus nodded.
Harry had a certain aversion to recognition for things he did.
Perhaps he was humble and had no desire for such, or perhaps he was not allowed to take credit for his feats.
Alastor had mentioned his suspicions of Harry’s former career, and though Albus found it decidedly odd that one so young would be involved in something so incredibly advanced, he couldn’t deny Harry’s capability.
Still, it was not as though the headmaster would be made privy to that information despite his position as the Chief Warlock of the ICW.
In truth, it didn’t matter.
Albus couldn’t think of any other he’d rather have to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts, and if Harry’s services could be secured once more, Hogwarts would undoubtedly be all the better for it.
(Break)
He’d been unable to rest when he’d returned home.
The trunk gifted to him by Ghost was not something he could ignore, and Harry had set to work reading through the contents of each file within.
He was shocked at just how many cases there were and the lengths that someone had gone to cover up what had happened. The similarities between some of the incidents and what had happened to Amelia’s parents were glaring, and Harry suspected that this was not a lone operation.
No, the evident corruption went beyond the desires of one person, and yet, he was no closer to figuring out just who was behind it.
Murder, extortion, disappearances, torture, and even violence against those who were not the primary targets quickly became a recurring theme within the files, none of which had been investigated, let alone solved.
Harry could only shake his head as he did his utmost to slot the pieces of the puzzle together, and even when he did, there was no clear picture of who had orchestrated so many crimes.
It was as concerning as it was confusing, but slowly, the threads of a tapestry of deceit became apparent, even if they were broken and frayed.
Still, he persisted until he knew he needed to take a break from the arduous task, and upon doing so, he found himself in the kitchen, unable to turn his thoughts away from what he’d read thus far.
“Master Harry should eat,” Helga urged.
He looked towards the clock as he yawned.
It was getting late in the evening now, and he’d not stopped for lunch or dinner.
“Thank you, Helga,” he replied gratefully, pouring himself his dozenth cup of coffee for the day.
Perhaps the contents of the trunk would become clearer when he’d slept, but Harry had his doubts, and it wasn’t as though he could focus entirely on what he wished to.
As much as he did not want to ponder his former foe, what had happened in Hogsmeade made ignoring Tom all but impossible.
It had been easier not to dwell on the man when his presence had been so far away, but with what he’d done, Harry knew the Dark Lord was coming and that the distant presence would become much closer sooner rather than later.
From what he’d seen the previous night, the Aurors were not ready for it, though he’d already known that.
Tom’s first rise to power had been poorly contested by the Wizengamot due to the support the Dark Lord had garnered and, in turn, by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, who relied on the support of the Wizengamot to act accordingly.
No, dark days were indeed ahead, and unless something was done to prevent or mitigate it, at the very least, Great Britain would be plunged into a shadowy period that would forever stain the country.
“Fucking Riddle,” Harry sighed, shaking his head once more.
“Here, Master Harry,” Helga announced, placing a plate of sandwiches on the table and offering him a look of concern. “Are you okay?”
Harry smiled tiredly, though he knew it wasn’t convincing.
“I’ll be fine, Helga,” he assured her.
“Would you like Helga to feed Zelda?”
Harry nodded.
“Please,” he replied gratefully.
The snake was becoming more independent, though not a day went by that she didn’t seek Harry out to tell him about her adventures around the property.
Her wings still showed no signs of growing back, and perhaps they never would, but Zelda was doing much better now. It had taken months for her depression to improve, and she still had her good and bad days, but the latter had certainly become fewer.
“I will do it now,” Helga declared, “and then I will prepare dinner for Miss Amelia. She will be here shortly.”
Before Harry could question the elf and how she knew Amelia was coming, Helga vanished, and Amelia arrived via the floo only a moment later.
She appeared to be just as tired as Harry and said nothing as she sunk into one of the chairs at the table.
“Long day?”
“Very,” Amelia sighed.
“Well, Helga has promised you some dinner when she’s finished feeding Zelda,” Harry informed her.
Amelia nodded appreciatively as she kicked her boots off and stretched her legs, groaning in relief.
“Make yourself comfortable,” Harry chuckled amusedly.
“I will,” Amelia replied, pouring herself a cup of coffee. “Unless you’d prefer to be mute and still?”
“You couldn’t be either for more than five minutes.”
“Is that right?” Amelia asked, narrowing her eyes at him.
“For as long as I’ve known you, Bones, I’ve never seen either from you.”
“Is this how you speak to all of your guests?”
“I’m much less polite to everyone else.”
Her lips quirked amusedly.
“Be that as it may, I am still an Auror, Jameson, and I demand the utmost respect from you.”
“You demand my utmost respect?” Harry snorted.
Amelia hummed as she took a sip of her drink.
“It’s the law.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“It’s one of my laws.”
“And what other personal laws should I be aware of?”
“Oh, there’s a few,” Amelia returned thoughtfully. “I’m sure you have broken just about all of them.”
Harry nodded and grinned at the woman.
“So, how long do I get in Azkaban?”
Amelia shook her head.
“Azkaban wouldn’t have the likes of you, Jameson,” she sighed. “I suppose I’ll have to just put up with your ways.”
Harry recoiled and clutched his chest dramatically.
“I saw no blade, and yet, you have cut me so deeply,” he gasped.
Amelia rolled her eyes at him.
“You’re such a drama queen.”
Harry defiantly conjured a crown and rested it on top of his head, eliciting a laugh from the redhead.
“Does it suit me?” he asked.
“Very pretty,” Amelia commented. “Honestly, how can you be so at ease after last night?”
“I’m not,” Harry admitted, “but I choose not to let the things I can’t control get me down. What purpose does that serve?”
“True,” Amelia conceded. “Speaking of which, I’ve been asked to make a request of you.”
“I’m already wearing a crown; what more could you want?”
Amelia looked at him pointedly but couldn’t prevent herself from smiling.
“You look ridiculous, Jameson.”
“I was thinking handsome,” Harry returned with a frown. “Maybe even gorgeous.”
“Fine, you look handsome.”
“And gorgeous.”
“Don’t push it,” Amelia huffed. “Can you be serious for a moment?”
Harry beamed at her.
“Of course.”
“Thank you,” Amelia grumbled. “Smith and Grimm have asked if you would be able to teach the Aurors how to defend themselves against fiendfyre. I did say you might not be able to, but…”
“I’ll do it,” Harry agreed readily.
“You will?” Amelia questioned, surprised by his willingness.
“I don’t see why not,” Harry replied. “It’s not easy, but it’s got to be worth trying. If it stops a repeat of last night, I’ll help.”
Amelia smiled at him fondly as she rounded the table and sat in his lap before pressing her lips against his.
“Well, if this is my reward, I’ll help more often. Wait, does that mean I will be teaching you?”
“It does,” Amelia confirmed cautiously. “Why?”
“Then I demand to be called Professor Jameson,” Harry replied, “or maybe Grand Master Jameson.”
“Keep dreaming, Jameson,” Amelia murmured, patting him on his cheek as she stood. “No one is going to be calling you either of those.”
“That’s just as well,” Harry said with a frown. “I’d rather do it without anyone knowing who I am. Grimm and Smith can tell them I’ve been brought in to help them with the training. Only Moody knows what I look like, and I can wear a robe.”
Amelia nodded and thanked Helga as the elf placed a plate of food in front of her, though she scowled before removing her card.
“Back to work already?”
“No, it’s a message from Alastor,” she explained. “Albus wants to meet with you.”
“So, you’re getting messages to pass on to me now?”
“It seems that way,” Amelia answered. “I’ll add ‘Personal Secretary to Harry Jameson’ to my list of job titles, and before you say anything, remember, I’ve not eaten all day, and my patience has its boundaries.”
“I wasn’t going to say a word,” Harry assured her with a grin.
Amelia evidently didn’t believe him, but she chose to focus on eating her dinner.
“I’ll go to Hogwarts in the morning,” he informed her. “I’m too tired tonight.”
“Long day?”
“You have no idea,” Harry sighed.
(Break)
With each passing day, his frustration grew.
He’d been to just about every country on the continent, and he’d not heard a single whisper pertaining to the whereabouts of his wayward pack. It was as though they’d vanished.
He’d managed to recruit another twelve members, but doing so did not come without risk, and Fenrir had no desire to see the inside of another cell.
No, as Voldemort had advised, he needed to keep a low profile, but that didn’t help him in his search.
It had been weeks now, and he had nothing to show for his efforts.
He’d scoured newspapers for any reports on werewolf attacks and even listened in on conversations in the grottiest of bars.
Either the pack had disbanded, which Fenrir did not believe, or they had been slaughtered, which was unfathomable.
The ICW hadn’t even managed to execute him in all the months he’d been incarcerated.
The only other possibility is that they had moved on, away from Europe, to start a new life.
How they would have managed that, Fenrir didn’t know, but there was not a place on Earth they could hide from him.
He’d find them eventually, and when he did, he’d once more assert his dominance over those he’d once considered his family.
(Break)
“Ah, Harry, thank you for coming,” Albus greeted him warmly. “I see my message reached you.”
The headmaster appeared to be tired, and Harry suspected the news of what had happened in Hogsmeade was weighing heavily upon him. Despite his turbulent past with the man, he wouldn’t deny Albus was one of the purer people he’d met, even if he’d gotten many things wrong where Harry was concerned.
“It did,” he confirmed, taking the seat on the opposite side of the desk.
Albus offered him a smile.
“I find myself once more pleased and relieved by your presence,” he said sincerely. “I’m afraid I was not available nor made aware of what had happened until I arrived at the castle after the fact.”
“You accept too much responsibility,” Harry replied. “You’re just one man, Headmaster. It is not your job to solve all the problems of the world.”
Albus chuckled.
“I’m afraid there are so very few who understand that. To many with long memories, that is exactly how I am seen. It is flattering but often overwhelming.”
Harry nodded his understanding.
He’d been thrust into a similar position after he’d ended the war but had not accepted it. Instead, he’d chosen to leave the magical world behind, for the most part, not wanting to become what Dumbledore had.
In a way, Harry had become the opposite of the man he’d once looked up to.
“Not that I asked you here to discuss the woes of the world,” Albus sighed. “I mentioned it to you some months ago, but I would like you to consider resuming your post in September. Is that possible, given recent developments?”
“It is,” Harry replied thoughtfully. “I have been assured there will be little disruption to my life.”
He missed Hogwarts.
It had been one of the few constants in his life that had brought him joy, even if his own schooling had been nothing short of turbulent.
Harry had been considering if it was the right time to continue teaching, and with the farm established, the restaurant thriving, and little else to fill his time other than his ongoing investigation, it wasn’t as though he wasn’t able to.
Besides, he was acutely aware of how pivotal the next years in wizarding Britain would be, and with Tom finally rearing his head, he knew that Hogwarts was where he was needed.
“Then you will return?”
“I will return,” Harry assured him.
Albus visibly sagged in relief, and he offered Harry the brightest of smiles, evidently pleased he’d accepted the posting.
(Break)
“Come in, Auror Bones,” Grimm called as Amelia knocked on the door to his office.
She opened it to find the man in deep conversation with Smith.
The two men were poring over a large map of Hogsmeade on which several markers had been placed.
“Sir, I just wanted to tell you that Jameson has agreed to help us,” she informed her superior.
“Wonderful,” Grimm declared. “The sooner the better.”
“Indeed,” Smith agreed.
He was a middle-aged man with a strong build. His brown hair had started to grey slightly at the temples, and his eyes were a light blue; the colour much friendlier than the tight expression he was sporting.
As far as the Heads of Departments Amelia had met went, Smith was her favourite.
He was a no-nonsense sort of man and one who had earned the respect he commanded.
He’d served at the very lowest level and, despite coming from a prominent family, had taken no shortcuts to the top.
“When would you like to begin?” Amelia asked.
“As Grimm said, the sooner, the better,” Smith answered. “If he is available, I will ensure he has groups to work with.”
“I will tell him that. Sir. I expect he will come in to discuss it with you, but I don’t see why he wouldn’t want to begin immediately.”
Smith nodded appreciatively.
“Come and have a look at this, Bones,” he urged, gesturing to the map. “This is where the spell was cast,” he explained, pointing to the very centre of the village. What does that tell you?”
“That whoever did it wanted to cause as much damage as possible,” Amelia mused aloud, “and that they weren’t concerned about being seen. Hogsmeade has foot traffic at the time it happened.”
“Exactly,” Smith murmured, “and fiendfyre is far from subtle. Either they timed it perfectly in their favour, or they just didn’t care.”
“Mad bastard,” Grimm muttered. “Only a mad bastard would do it in the first.”
Smith nodded.
“But calculated madness,” he replied. “I would say they are mad, but certainly not taken leave of their senses. They did it brazenly, callously, and they even left us a clue,” he added, nodding towards the green skull that hung ominously over the map. “They are mad, at least somewhat talented in dark, obscure magic, and undoubtedly quite intelligent. This is an exceedingly dangerous person, and not just because of the front they demonstrated by casting the spell in the first place. I will find them.”
He continued to stare at the map, his eyes narrowed in determination.
“Go on, Bones, get yourself home or wherever it is you spend your nights these days,” Grimm instructed, a rare, amused grin tugging at his lips.
Amelia didn’t need telling twice, though she could not help but dwell on the person they were hunting.
Noting like this had ever happened in wizarding Britain, and somehow, she didn’t believe it was a simple, one-off attack.
No, Amelia could not shake the feeling that this was just the very beginning of something deeply unpleasant unfolding around them, and she dreaded what was to come next.
Still, with Harry agreeing to help the Aurors, her concerns were assuaged somewhat, even if they would not be erased entirely.