Chapter Four
The moment Harry emerged from the lifts and stepped onto the second level of the Ministry, the remaining staff of the Auror department stood up and turned anxious faces towards him. But Harry did not look at anybody, refusing to give anyone a chance to ask him any questions. But the forbidding expression on his face said it all. Liede's face hardened into one of shadowed grief, while the younger secretaries broke down into audible sobs.
Once inside his office Harry laid the headdress and necklace on his desk and slumped down on his chair. He leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling. Blood was still rampaging in his veins and he was desperately trying to force it into a state of calmness. It would not do for him to be hexing the remaining suspects while they were under interrogation.
He opened his eyes and dropped his gaze back to the jewelries now lying innocently on his table. The headdress he recognized at once as Egyptian, though the necklace he was not as certain. He remembered clearly how none of his, or any of his men's, spells seemed to affect the witch while she was wearing these things, no matter how much power he put in his spells. He thus realized that he just couldn't leave these things lying around, not even in the Department's Evidence Room, the security of which had always been highly suspect. He would have to consult Kingsley about it. In the meantime, Harry placed the items in his mokeskin for safekeeping.
He looked the time at Fabian Prewett's old watch, and wondered if the suspects had already been brought to the criminal holding cell at the tenth level. He needed to review first the statements his men would have extracted from them at the crime scene before he talked to any of them. That way, he would be able to watch out for any inconsistencies.
A few moments later, Kingsley dropped by and Harry gave a much abbreviated version of the events of the past hour, though Harry rather suspected that Kingsley knew everything already. They agreed to wait for Dick Pendrill before they headed off to Howard's home to inform his wife of what had happened.
All throughout the interview, Harry kept quiet, allowing Kingsley and Pendrill to narrate everything they could to Howard's widow; after all, they were his superiors and knew Howard the longest. She did not say anything at all, either, as Kingsley and Pendrill spoke, though copious tears poured continuously down her face. Thankfully, there was no recrimination in her eyes directed at Harry. She knew that had Harry been able, he would have done anything to save her husband's life - that much her husband had told her of Harry's character. But even if Harry wanted to, he couldn't find it in himself to express the guilt and remorse he was feeling for Donaghy's death. It was only 'til later as they were about to leave that Harry finally found his voice to say "I'm sorry" as he gave her the vial of her husband's last memories as Harry had seen in Howard's mind, promising her access to a pensieve anytime she wanted to view its contents.
When they returned to the Ministry, Harry threw himself into the case, calling in Kreacher to provide food for himself and the team as they worked the rest of the day. Ice Bill and John Leechmen presented no mysteries; the DMLE already had records of their past misdeeds a large cauldron high. In this particular case though, they were no more than paid lackeys, hired to excavate and transport the body in the coffin. This was proven the moment the Aurors started their formal interrogation of the suspects. Harry let the other Aurors conduct the interview though, and merely observed the proceedings from the other side of the room where he half-sat, half-leaned against a desk, his legs crossed, as he sifted through the suspects' files.
First on the line of fire was Ice Bill. A heavy-set wizard with crew-cut hair. He had been linked to a number of crimes before but there were simply no witnesses who could – or would - testify against him and so had remained scot-free. This was the first time that he was caught in flagrante delicto and Harry, taking no chances, assigned Eddie, a very tall, heavy-muscled wizard who looked more like a rugby player than an Auror, as part of the interrogation team. It turned out to be an astute decision on his part: at some point during the interview, when Ice Bill realized that he would be facing a long stretch in Azkaban for the attempted murder of at least two Aurors, he grabbed the neck of the Auror interviewing him and tried to strangle the said man, but Eddie clamped a hand on Ice Bill's offending arm and said in a slow, deadly voice "You really don't want to do that." Harry held himself back and merely looked on. He had trust enough in his men.
The next interview with John Leechman was even more unproductive. All he kept saying was who was going to pay him now and whether or not he would be paid extra for having to fight against Aurors (which he did not, having dropped like a sack of potatoes at the first salvo of spells from the Aurors) because that had not been in the original agreement. When the Aurors performed the Priori Incantatem spell on his wand, majority of the spells they found were for the detection of anti-theft alarms or tests to determine whether a material was real, conjured, or Geminioed gold. At one point though, Leechman allowed his thoughts to stray away from galleons enough to exclaim about the witch who hired them: "She was one fucking, loony bint, that witch was." And that was the end of his interrogation.
The moment the third suspect entered the room, however, Harry straightened up and nodded to the other Aurors, signifying he wanted to question the suspect himself. If anybody could give the Aurors any answers, it would be him. The two Aurors stepped back and exchanged places with Harry.
His name was Damien Rosier. His father and three elder brothers were known Death Eaters. His eldest brother, Evan, was killed by Mad-Eye Moody in nineteen-eighty while his other two brothers joined the Death Eaters soon after Voldemort's rebirth. Their bodies were later found trampled upon among the dead in the grounds of Hogwarts after the Battle. It was one of those brothers - Garrick – whose corpse was in the coffin and that the witch, Galina Kondesjuk, had vainly tried to resurrect.
She was Garrick's common law wife whom he had met in Latvia when Voldemort sent him, along with several other Death Eaters, to track the whereabouts of Igor Karkaroff. It was largely due to her help that the Death Eaters were able to find Karkaroff. But after Voldemort had killed the traitorous former Death Eater, Garrick left her and returned back to England. A couple of months later, Galina appeared on the Rosiers' doorstep in Derbyshire. She was Roma, a gypsy, and therefore quite powerful because the Romani never hid their magical abilities from Muggles, and as a people never had any prohibitions against learning Dark Magic, only the use of them. But Garrick Rosier had never concealed to his family what he really thought of her: nothing more than a witch in his bed.
Three years prior, she came to Damien and claimed that she knew of a way that could bring his brother back to life. He had been skeptic but she had said that it had been done before. Two wizards who should have been dead came back to life: the Dark Lord and Harry Potter. And she knew the secret to do it, which Harry seriously doubted. As far as Harry and Dumbledore knew, what happened between himself and Voldemort was entirely unique in the entire history of magic, a one-off thing. Part of the self-sacrifice's magic was that it had to be a spontaneous thing, not something that had been planned ahead, or it would never have worked. Otherwise, Dumbledore would have told Harry earlier on that Harry would survive Voldemort's Killing Curse no matter what.
But Harry could not correct this mistaken notion without revealing a bit of what really happened between him and Voldemort and he had no intention at all of giving a son of a known Death Eater family - or anyone else for that matter - any ideas.
But why do it, though? The witch Harry could understand, but the young man? Harry could not understand why he would agree to do such a thing, even if the deceased was his brother.
"You don't understand!" Damien Rosier cried. "You don't know how difficult it had been for me and my parents ever since my brothers died!"
"I'm sorry, but you'll find that I know perfectly well what it's like to lose your loved ones," Harry said coldly, staring directly at the suspect who sat across him at the table. "And none of them deserved the fate they were dealt with either."
Damien turned a crazed look on Harry, looking every bit a desperate animal.
"But it's been difficult! I had to drop out of Hogwarts. And my parents! You don't know about my parents!"
Harry did not answer. He just kept looking at the suspect.
"My dad, he's been taken ill. And my mum, she goes around the house asking me where my brothers are. It's like she doesn't even remember that they're already dead, that we've buried them years ago!"
When Harry still did not speak, the wizard went on, his shoulders bowed, his face turned towards the floor.
"And the money! We were left with no money! The ministry has taken all of our properties, our money in Gringotts, my own inheritance!"
"Because your brothers have been proven to have also illegally acquired the financial assets of wizards and witches they have denounced to the Ministry for being Muggle-borns and the others for various crimes – many of which were unproven and later found to be completely baseless," Harry said steadily.
"Still, you should have left us with something!" Rosier cried resentfully at Harry.
"Actually, there are still a lot more of the victims' possessions that remain unaccounted for to this day. Missing deeds, properties, and shareholders' titles. And we would have questioned you about them years ago if only you hadn't been a minor."
"Well, I haven't got them, have I? If I had, do you think I would be here now?"
"Where are they then?" Harry said, looking at the suspect closely.
The suspect did not answer. He turned his face back down towards the floor but every aspect of his body language spelled defeat and Harry waited.
"I just wanted my parents to be taken care of," he said hoarsely.
"I promise you, if you help us return the properties to their rightful owners, then I will make sure that your parents are fully taken care of," Harry said and he meant it. There was no victory in keeping oppressed a couple of enfeebled, old people with decaying memories, no matter if one of them had been a known Death Eater and probably had blood in his hands.
The suspect lifted his gaze back up to Harry, looking Harry in the eye. He leaned forward a bit, as if trying to find a measure of something in Harry's eyes. At last he spoke.
"My brothers hid them in a way that only they could get access to it. They did not trust my father, you see. And they didn't trust me to hold my own against my father, either. And I suspect that they hid money from each other as well. Galina thought so, too."
Harry inwardly whistled. What a seriously messed up family.
"And Galina knew this? Knew about the money?"
"Yeah. My brother Garrick trusted her that way. He knew she would never betray him and would never run off with his money. He left her a sizeable amount of Galleons, in fact," Rosier added bitterly.
"But the money was not enough for her." Harry said. It was more a statement than a question.
"No. With her, it was never about the money. In fact, the money is still in the house. Everything. The papers, deeds, titles."
"How do you know about this?"
"Galina told me," Rosier said, making an indifferent shrug. "She promised to give me half of it - my other brother's half - if I help her resurrect Garrick. She needed my blood, you see. It has to be willingly given."
Willingly given. Chills ran down Harry's spine, Wormtail's words echoing in his head. This had to be where Voldemort picked up the original spell that he later adapted to reform his own body. Though completely unnerved, Harry continued interrogating the suspect in a detached voice.
"And the headdress and the necklace she was wearing? Where did she get them? Because I'm quite certain that those items did not come from the north."
Rosier waved off Harry's question as if it was the least important thing. "Her people had them for decades. She said they took them from some Muggle museum that had no idea what powerful magical items they were sitting on. But her people knew and exchanged the artifacts for harmless duplicates. They're Egyptian, the headdress and the necklace both. A year and a half ago she went back to her people to steal them. I don't know what they do exactly but she said she needed them for the ceremony to resurrect my brother. So, don't ask me okay?"
"And the house?"
"The house she and my brother lived in, the year before he died."
Harry returned to his files of the suspects. He did not remember reading any mention of a house in Galina's files other than the Rosiers' family home.
"You won't find it there," he said, referring to the reams of parchment now laid open on the desk. "It's under a Fidelius Charm. And she was the Secret-Keeper."
Harry raised an eyebrow. "But you know where it is, right? And now that she's dead, you in turn would have been a Secret-Keeper along with anybody she has told of the address."
"But that's the trouble, isn't it?" His still-boyishly round face looking suddenly ugly with malicious glee that a monkey wrench had been thrown in Harry's way. "When she placed the house under the Fidelius Charm, she never invited me back there again. We would always meet outside after that."
"But why would she do that?"
"It was because of your friend, Weasley. The one who was always in the papers," he said, and his face looked even uglier, if it were possible. And Harry could now clearly see the scion of a Death Eater family in him. "Apparently, he was the one who answered a Floo about the disturbance in Uttoxeter cemetery in Derby where my brother was interred. And when he found that my brother's remains were missing, he went to Galina's house to inform her of what had happened as she was listed as the person to contact in case of an emergency in his official records..."
Harry turned his head to one of the Aurors, signaling him to check the records for that bit of information. The Auror quietly slipped out of the room.
"... guess the Ministry still considered corpse-stealing as an emergency. Either that, or your friend really is as stupid as they say."
Harry turned his head sharply towards Rosier, who was still wearing that malicious look on his face.
"All the while he was talking to Galina he never twigged on the fact that it was on her orders that my brother's remains were taken," Rosier continued, oblivious to the darkening storm in Harry's face. "He didn't even realize how close he had been to dying that day. But she knew that if that blood-traitor went suddenly missing, you and that Mudblood girlfriend of his would not be far behind. If Galina hadn't recognized him from the papers - " He let his words hang in the air while drawing a finger across his neck.
Harry gritted his teeth and tried to stare calmly back at the suspect. The secretary taking the minutes of the interrogation was turning an anxious face from Harry to the suspect while Eddie unfolded his crossed arms from his chest and stood straight, fully alert. The two, who were already working at the Auror Department the year Harry joined the Ministry, remembered clearly the times Harry had lost control of his magic. It was the year when the Ministry began uncovering the extent of the last regime's atrocities, like the group of Muggle-born children in a cell in Azkaban who had been given the Kiss by Dementors.
And now this suspect sat in front of Harry, gloating over the idea of Ron getting killed. Harry wanted nothing more than to wipe that smug look off the young man's face. Yet, at the same time, somewhere in the back of his mind, he had never been more thankful of what a pair of randy rabbits his best friends had become. He tried holding on to the memory of them. They're okay. They're alive. Harry kept telling himself. Just then, the Auror who recently left came back and he handed Harry a scroll of parchments. Harry quickly unrolled them. It was the official Ministry record of Garrick Rosier. The space indicating the Person to Contact In Case of Emergency was now left blank. Harry ran a hand over the parchment and clearly felt the tingle of magic over the area.
"You'll never find it, the house," Rosier said, leaning forward for emphasis. "Galina herself snuck into the Ministry to erase the records, see?"
Harry considered the suspect carefully.
"I could, if I wanted to," he said at length, his voice deceptively calm. "As a full-fledged Legilimens, I could easily wring the memory out of your mind."
"You wouldn't! You're not allowed!" Rosier cried, horrified.
"Melanie, could you please repeat the last entries please?" the Auror who fetched Garrick's records snapped to the secretary. "Just the last."
"Suspect Damien Rosier: You'll never find it, the house. Galina herself snuck into the Ministry to erase the records, see?" the secretary promptly replied.
Rosier turned a disbelieving look from each Ministry employee to another but they just looked calmly back at him.
After a while, Rosier shouted defiantly to the room. "I still have my memory of this!"
Once again the other Auror spoke, this time addressing Eddie who stood beside him.
"How're your Obliviating skills?"
Eddie made a seesawing motion with his hands. "Eh." Eddie said. "Might have to do it several times. But it would work in the end," he added with a nonchalant shrug.
"Mine's great," the other Auror said. "Ruddy kickass, if I say so myself." And he gave Rosier a long, significant look.
Rosier began to splutter but said nothing more.
Harry himself kept quiet, then sat back, flipping through the suspects' files again. It didn't matter if they could not get Galina's address from Rosier. If Ron had filed a report on the case, chances were he had written the address somewhere. Now that the Secret-Keeper was dead and assuming Ron's report had remained untampered, it would be easier for Harry to extract the information he needed.
"I could cite you for murder," Harry said eventually without looking up.
"I never hurt anyone!" Rosier said indignantly.
"How about the pregnant witch? Don't tell me you didn't know about her?" Harry said, staring the suspect dead in the eyes.
"Leave her out of this!" Rosier shouted angrily at once.
His reaction puzzled Harry.
"Who was she then? The Ministry never received any report of a missing witch in the last couple of months, and we're sure that she was a witch."
"I said leave my girlfriend out of this!" Rosier shouted even more angrily this time. Then something clicked in his mind. "What do you mean was?! What do you mean cite me for murder?!" he demanded, straightening up.
Harry looked at him, glanced at his colleagues, then back to Rosier.
"I said what do you mean was?!"
"Do you know what that last Shield was that I couldn't break? Do you know what it was made of?" Harry said in slow, measured tones.
"It was a Protective Shield," Rosier said, waving his hand impatiently.
"It was a Placental Shield." Harry said quietly.
A long, billowing silence ensued in which Rosier stared wide-eyed at Harry, blood draining from his face as the brutal realization dawned upon him.
"When did you last see your girlfriend?"
"Three weeks ago." Rosier said hoarsely. "Galina, she said we needed to hide my girlfriend until after my brother's been resurrected. She said we didn't need things to complicate matters, not this close to the ceremony. My girlfriend, she ran away from home last Christmas when she discovered she was pregnant. She had never gotten along with her parents since we got together." He ran a trembling hand through his hair, his anguished voice becoming hoarser still until it almost became a whisper. "I've already dropped out of Hogwarts and I couldn't bring her home. We're both purebloods. Galina volunteered to look after my girlfriend until I have enough money to marry her. She took my girlfriend home with her." Abruptly he stood up and made as if he was going to run out of the room. The two Aurors immediately stood to attention but Harry remained seated, following Rosier's movements with his eyes only. Then the young man seemed to sway where he had been standing. He feebly clawed at the air, his eyes unseeing. Then he collapsed down to the floor, weeping, a completely broken man at seventeen.
Harry stood up, all his previous anger dissipated. He looked down at the crumpled form of Damien Rosier, knowing the young man was completely, utterly defeated and Harry could not derive any satisfaction from it. It was Regulus all over again, a young man who had gotten himself into a situation way over his head and consequently paid a steep price. Harry glanced at his men, nodded to them and turned to leave. He had nothing more to do here.
Harry went back to his and Ron's office. He rummaged through the files on Ron's desk marked "Pending" and "Closed" but could not find any relating to Garrick Rosier. Although officially it was against the rules for Aurors to discuss the details of cases outside the force, Harry knew Ron would sometimes sound Hermione out on cases he was working on. They both did. Hermione's incisive intellect served to point out aspects of the cases that otherwise would have escaped Ron's and Harry's notice. It was possible that Ron brought the case files with him. Anyway, even if Ron had brought the files home to Grimmauld, Ron's and Hermione's room was sacrosanct. Harry would never dream of violating their room for whatever reason.
Looking at the time, he saw it was past two in the morning. He had completely missed Ginny's game but overheard in the Ministry halls that her team had won the game. He thought to hold off going to the Burrow 'til early the next morning to try and find out from Mrs. Weasley where his two friends might have gone. Missing a major game of Ginny's would have required an elaborate lie on Ron's part. Harry was hoping to fish out the truth from the lie Ron would have given Mrs. Weasley in an effort to throw anyone off his and Hermione's whereabouts.
Though ostensibly it was on account of the current case that Harry would be looking for his friends, deep down Harry knew he just wanted to reassure himself that his friends were all right. Anyway, he missed Mrs. Weasley, as well. It had been too long since he had last seen her. He was also secretly hoping to find out from her if Ginny was seeing anyone right now. And if Ginny was single again, then he could attend the victory dinner at the Burrow later in the evening. Lord knows he was in desperate need of a breath of goodness after having such a dire weekend. With that hopeful thought, Harry finally left the office for Grimmauld.
~O~
Ginny carefully stepped down from the stairs of the Burrow, her long red hair hanging straight down her back, dressed in an off-white floral cocktail dress, its sleeveless cut showing off her clear, smooth skin and well-toned arms to perfection. Her team had won the third semi-finals game against the Kestrels this afternoon and so she was required to attend the after-game victory party. Upon entering the kitchen she noticed the floor was covered in flour, her mum bent over the oven. Mrs. Weasley straightened up and turned around as she felt someone entering the room.
"Ginny! You look beautiful!" her mum exclaimed, a broad smile on her face as she took in Ginny's appearance.
Ginny smiled. Her mum always told her that, even as a young child in her pajamas as her mum brushed her hair before going to sleep.
"Mum, what's all this?" Ginny said, carefully stepping over the flour-ridden floor. There was not a foot to step on that was not covered in flour and she was afraid that any more of it would get on top of her shoes.
"Oh, dear, I'm sorry," said Mrs. Weasley, sounding a bit harassed, wiping her hands on her apron, "I'm afraid I've made a bit of a mess. I was just trying to put in a last bit of baking for tomorrow's breakfast, you know."
Ginny made to extract her wand from her small bag to clean the mess but her mum stopped her.
"Oh, don't bother Ginny. I'll clean that up later. I still have a lot of clearing up to do anyway."
"How come you're cooking this late anyway?" It was already eight-thirty in the evening and she, her mum, and dad had already eaten their dinner hours ago.
"Well, you remembered I told you about the Wilcox–Scudamore wedding?"
"Oh yeah. That's tomorrow then?" How could Ginny not remember? The bride was a Muggle-born witch incarcerated by the last regime. She was found severely tortured in Azkaban soon after the war and had been bed-ridden for three years but her half-blood boyfriend never left her side and patiently nursed her back to health. Her mum met both parties in the course of her volunteer work for war victims. Ginny couldn't help feeling a mite jealous, wishing she could have had someone for whom she could have shown such devotion.
"Yes. Your father and I are taking the car to Ledgemoor up north."
"You're driving?" Her mum was referring of course to the Ford Anglia that her dad, Harry and a Muggle-born working at the Ministry, a son of a garage mechanic, had restored from a mere shell Harry had found on the internets* a year after the war. Ginny had always regretted not being there all those Sundays that Harry had been at her home every Sunday working on the car. The project had started months before she graduated from Hogwarts but she had already been drafted into the Holyhead Harpies after Gryffindor's win in the Quidditch finals that year; soon as the school term ended, she was whisked off to the Harpies' training camp in Anglesey, Wales. Even now, she still fantasized about bringing Harry some snacks as they worked on the car - if only she could have been allowed to do just that much for him, Ginny inwardly sighed.
"Oh, yes. The bride's family is Muggle, after all. The entire wedding will be strictly Muggle, as a matter of fact. Besides, you know your father. He won't let any opportunity to use the Ford just go by. I swear, if I didn't know any better, I would say your father is starting to care more about that car than he does for me."
"But you do know better, Mum," Ginny said, noting the expression on her mum's face. She walked up to her and brushed the few strays of hair off her mum's face. She realized with a jolt of grief how her mum seemed to have more grey hairs than last she had seen, but she kept her face impassive. Instead, she placed a tender kiss on her mother's cheek. "You work too hard," she whispered. She stepped back and turned her face away from her mum trying to tamp down the uncalled-for emotion "Where's dad, anyway?" she said in as normal a voice as she could muster, looking around the tiny kitchen as if expecting her dad to materialize.
"Well, we have a long drive tomorrow and he took in an early night."
Ginny turned back to her mother. "You should too," she said kindly.
"Well, as soon as this batch's finished, I promise I'll turn in as well," Mrs. Weasley said, gesturing towards the oven.
"What are you making anyway?"
"Your favorites." Ginny knew her mum was not only referring to her but to her nieces and nephews as well. It had become a tradition in the Weasley home to celebrate the Harpies' wins on the Sunday following, and not the evening of, the match. Because that was the only time that most of the family could be gathered, except for the Aurors (yes, Harry would always be considered part of the family) who kept odd working hours, and sometimes Bill, whom Gringotts would still call upon to do fieldwork from time to time. "Chocolate and orange brioches."
"Yum." Ginny said, laughing. They really were her favorites.
"Just in case Percy and Bill arrive early, though I don't expect them to come in until later tomorrow afternoon," her mum went on. "At least I know the children will have something to munch on."
"You spoil us too much, mum," Ginny said, embracing Mrs. Weasley.
"By the way, will you be coming here to the Burrow after the party?" Mrs. Weasley said, pulling back.
"Yes, mum. But don't wait up. I'll let myself in and close up after myself." Ginny never really felt comfortable in the Harpies' players' dormitories. Usually her teammates would bring strange men to the flat Ginny shared with them and she felt especially uneasy during those times. That was why, outside of the games, Ginny spent as much time at the Burrow as she did in her Harpies flat.
"If you wake up tomorrow and your dad and I have already left, I'll leave some breakfast for you in the larder, ok?"
"Yes mum." And Ginny kissed her mother goodbye and left for the party.
Fifteen minutes into the party and Ginny was already bored beyond catatonia. If it had not been compulsory for players to attend the party, she wouldn't have been here at all. Alone in one corner of the manor where the party was being held she stood while the rest of her teammates, still high with the euphoria of their win that afternoon, flitted around and flirted with almost every wizard in the room. Ginny, not wanting to give the impression that she too was on the prowl, kept herself in the sidelines quietly sipping her butterbeer (she never took a glass of alcoholic drink especially when out on her own, not after witnessing some witches make such a fool of themselves in public - her mum would bury her alive!). Besides, Ginny was not interested in jumping into another relationship so soon after she had just gotten out of one. Three weeks before, she received, anonymously, pictures of her now ex-boyfriend Philip with several women, witches and Muggles alike, in apartments he kept in several countries.
She met Philip at George's store in Diagon Alley. He was a half-blood whose father worked as a representative of the British wizard Ministry and thus had spent most of his life abroad completely untouched by the last war. With money from both his parents, he had put up a Muggle appliance and gadget store that he later established branches of in several countries. At that time they met, he was negotiating for Weasley Wizards' Wheezes to carry, on consignment basis, a few electronic gadgets adapted for wizard-use.
Having lived in gadget-crazy countries as the US and Japan, Philip was able to find items he could sell that supposedly worked in magical environments (to a limited extent). His main market was the Muggle-borns who miss their gadgets and Muggle-provided entertainments. Ron, in a surprising gesture of thoughtfulness, bought Hermione a computer so she could email her parents and do research on the internets but found to his wretched annoyance that they could never make it work, not in Grimmauld Place anyway. As it turned out, the gadgets and appliances would work only in homes with extremely low amount of magic and not in places like the Burrow, especially when all the Weasleys were gathered together there, and certainly never where Harry.Potter.Effing.Lived. In other words, the items would only work in Muggle-born homes, where ordinary appliances and gadgets already function well enough. Needless to say, Ron wanted to demand a refund, but as Ginny was already seeing him at that time, could not.
That there should have been Ginny's first clue. No, scratch that. That should have been the second. She should have known that, although Philip looked every bit good on paper, the moment she introduced him to Bill and Bill only gave Philip a perfunctory greeting, that Philip was not someone she could be with for much longer. Bill was an excellent judge of character; you have to be if you were an ace Gringotts Curse Breaker. When your job somehow involved judging whether the next brick you were about to step on or the next corner you turn into would suddenly unleash your doom, you sort of develop a sixth sense that somehow spills onto your dealings with people.
But Ginny guessed she was taken in with, first, his looks (coz he was certainly a lot of eye candy) and then his polish. She always admired that he always seemed to move and speak with deliberation – not a word or step out of turn (nor a hair, as George lately would say). It sort of reminded her of someone she knew who similarly moved in a highly self-assured and deliberate manner. She should have known though that Philip's brand of self-possession was nothing more than an act, mere appearance, something he would have learned from his diplomat father and very posh mother. And when Ginny confronted him with the pictures, he did not even have the balls to own up to what he did, even when the evidence was staring him at the face in various states of undress. It was only the threat of Ginny's infamous Bat-Bogey Hex that made him leave Ginny's Harpies' flat but not without assuring Ginny first that their relationship was far from over. As if a fuckwit like him could ever threaten her, her who not even the Carrows could cow into submission nor Bellatrix Lestrange scare away from a fatal duel.
But what really was annoying Ginny tonight - and she would never admit it to anyone - was the fact that Ron and Hermione had taken off again, leaving Harry alone at Grimmauld Place. Didn't Hermione herself claim that those times she and Ron had taken time off on their own was when Harry himself would be out for the rest of the weekend? Soon after, rumors of Harry being seen in the company of women all over Muggle Britain would surface (as Harry was quite well known to families of Muggle-borns). And it would send the reporters into a frenzy of Harry-hunting, for it afforded the wizarding world a glimpse of Harry's highly secretive lovelife.
And now Ron and Hermione had gone and left Harry again, running him off into the arms of another woman. Ginny had half a mind to rush to Grimmauld Place herself that moment wearing nothing but the skimpiest lingerie under her witch's robes, seduce Harry and be done with it. If she couldn't have a deep, meaningful relationship with him, then she'd settle for a purely sexual one, if that was all he wanted and all he could give. At least she'd finally have an idea of what everyone was going on about sex and be able to participate knowledgeably whenever talk about sex broke around her among her teammates and friends. And more importantly, she'd get to kiss Harry, that she'd be in a closer relationship with him, and not the nodding acquaintances they were reduced to.
Ginny was thus busy imagining various scenarios of her seducing Harry when she felt someone grabbed her by the elbow.
"Ginny, we need to talk." It was Philip.
Ginny immediately saw red. How dared he intrude upon her delectable Harry fantasies?
"What are you doing here?" Ginny said, louder than she had intended.
"You invited me, remember?"
"But that was weeks ago! I've already asked that your name be stricken off the official list of invitees," Ginny said, trying to pull her arm away from Philip who still hadn't let go of his hold on her.
"Well, the guards in front let me in, anyway. They recognized me, you know, your boyfriend," he smirked, emphasizing the last two words.
"Boyfriend, my arse! We broke up weeks ago, remember? And where are those Aurors anyway?" Ginny said, scanning the room for an Auror, she could usually recognize them by sight but her short stature prevented her from seeing over the heads of the other people in the room. Normally, there would be one or two Aurors overseeing security in these events.
"Look, Ginny. Just let's talk, okay?" Philip pleaded, pulling her nearer to him by the arm.
"What is there to talk about? I've seen enough. We're done." Ginny looked at him coolly.
"I told you, those pictures aren't real. Someone doctored them up," he said, still not letting go. People nearby were starting to stare at them and the last thing Ginny needed was for an article to appear in the tabloids of her having a spat with Philip.
"I don't understand what Muggle Healers have anything to do with those pictures but you sure were wearing the shirt I gave you three months ago in one of them!" Ginny tried to say so that only she and Philip could hear.
"Doctored! Not real! Whoever sent those pictures to you was just trying to make trouble!"
But Ginny had had enough. She violently wrenched her arm away from him. She was not interested in whatever excuses Philip would come up with. The truth of the matter was, it seemed to her that the entire affair clearly had the mark of her brothers' hands in it. She knew for a fact that over the past six weeks, all her brothers, except for Charlie, had done a bit of travelling abroad in countries where Philip had been at the same time. They must have known something had been going on behind her back but would not say anything directly to her face - that would only tend to get her hackles up and she'd end up defending Philip instead.
Ginny turned her back to Philip, walking towards an area less crowded than where she had been standing, but Philip followed her.
"It's your fault, you know!" he said in her ear the moment they reached a set of high double doors that opened onto a rounded balcony. "If only you've been a proper girlfriend to me, then I wouldn't have to turn to other witches, won't I?"
Ginny had no recourse but to turn around and face him. "So now it's all my fault?"
"Well, it's certainly not just mine."
Ginny stared at him incredulously. "You really are something, you know that?" They were now standing on the balcony that gave them a view of the property's now blackened grounds.
"Look, Ginny," Philip said, lifting a hand in supplication, "why don't we just talk about it. I'm sure we could still work out whatever problems we might have had."
"Work it out? Work it out?" Ginny was screaming hysterically now. "You cheated on me with not one but several women!"
"But how can you blame me?" Philip was screaming just as angrily at Ginny now. "I'm a man! I'm young! And I have needs! Needs that it's your duty to fulfill!"
"My duty? Philip, I told you, right from the start that I'm not ready for that kind of relationship, yet. Right from the beginning, I've told you! I have never pretended that it was something that you could expect from me anytime soon. I've never once led you on!"
"Well, if you're not going to put out, what good are you as a girlfriend, then?"
Ginny stood staring. She felt like she had just been slapped on the face. It was as if she was seeing him for the first time.
Just then, Sylvie, Ginny's flatmate and Beater on the Harpies team, peeked her head in through the long, white curtains hanging from the double doors and Ginny and Philip both turned their heads towards her. She must have noticed them earlier and came to investigate. Sylvie knew everything about Ginny's relationship with Philip and probably suspected Ginny's true feelings for Harry as well, though she had never commented on it.
"Everything all right there, Ginny?" Sylvie said, carefully surveying them.
"Everything's fine," Ginny said, though her body was slightly trembling - from anger, she decided.
"If you need me, I'll just be here." Sylvie said, her face inscrutable, but Ginny knew that Sylvie would be staying just a few feet away, ready to act in case there was any trouble. Not that Ginny needed any help. Between her and Philip, she knew exactly who would come out the worse if their argument suddenly ended up in an exchange of spells, not that she'd fight with a man unless she had to. This thought served to calm Ginny down.
"I think you should leave," Ginny quietly said, though there was an unmistakable glint in her voice.
Philip looked at her. He seemed to be breathing more heavily than usual.
"This is not over, Ginny," he said at last. "I'll find out whoever it was that sent you those pictures, and, believe me, he's going to regret ever thinking that he could fuck with me."
Then he walked back out the way they'd come, staring straight ahead. Ginny watched him go, feeling nothing. Their relationship had had promise but she wondered if it ever really had a chance to go anywhere at all. A vivid image of Harry blossomed in her mind. She took a deep shuddering breath.
A few seconds later, Sylvie appeared once again in the doorway and walked over to where Ginny was standing. She was a few years older than Ginny, and a good several inches taller too, with black hair and white skin. Anybody who had known Sirius had referred to her as his female version though they look nothing alike. Sylvie handed Ginny her own untouched glass of cocktail drink. Ginny raised an eyebrow.
"You know I don't drink."
Sylvie equally raised an eyebrow. "After dealing with that troll? You know you need one."
So Ginny took the proffered glass and downed its entire contents in one gulp.
Sylvie laughed. "For someone who claims to never drink any kind of alcoholic beverages, you sure drink like a fish."
"As you've said, I needed it," Ginny retorted.
Sylvie closely examined Ginny's face. "You okay, Ginny?
"I'm fine." Ginny said, though she felt a slight headache coming on, probably from the tension of her encounter with her ex. "I just didn't expect him to be such an asshole, you know?"
"I know," Sylvie said sympathetically and started rubbing her back.
Ginny looked down at the empty glass she was holding and then she looked up at Sylvie, smiled apologetically and said, "Sorry, I finished off your drink."
"It's nothing. There's plenty more at the bar. C'mon, let's go get plastered." She draped an arm over Ginny's shoulder and steered the younger witch back into the house.
"You know I can't get drunk, Sylvie," Ginny said, protesting.
"Don't worry. I'll make sure you get home to mummy." And then she laughed, and Ginny, laughing herself, playfully pushed her away.
~o~
*I borrowed this from a former world leader. Though the Weasleys are now more exposed to the Muggle world, however, their knowledge is still a bit limited.
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