Searching for Dawn

Searching for Dawn

by cindale

Chapter 7

"Journeys"

Ron had been edgy for a few days. His answers to questions were just a little more clipped than usual, his kisses a bit more brief. Hermione could sense a distance in his eyes and feel the tension in his muscles. He had been this way before when work had been stressful, and she didn't want to risk being accused of nagging, so she didn't ask.

After three days, she grew impatient and decided to take action. She picked up a bottle of red wine to go with their Italian take-out, and then, on impulse, grabbed a bottle of bubble bath as well.

When she got home, she charmed the bathtub to make it larger, filled it with bubbly water, and cast another charm to keep it warm. She placed candles in strategic places around the bathroom, knowing she could light them later with a wave of her wand. Then she dimmed the lights in the dining area and studied by candlelight until Ron came home.

"Why is it so dark in here?" he growled when he Apparated into the room.

In response, Hermione closed her book, went to Ron, and pulled him into an enthusiastic kiss. She felt his shoulders start to relax under her arms. He pulled back slightly and said, "Well, someone had a good day."

She ran a finger down the side of his face and said, "I just thought it might be fun to relive certain parts of our honeymoon tonight."

"Which parts?" Ron asked with a huge grin.

***************************************

Ron pushed himself away from Hermione and rolled over onto his back. She looked at him anxiously and pulled up the blanket to cover herself. "Wh-what's wrong?" she stammered.

He sighed. "I'm sorry - I just can't - tonight - I'm sorry ..."

"Ron? What's the matter?" Hermione asked, as the passion slowly faded from her body. She turned to look at him, but he was examining the ceiling.

"Nothing ... nothing." He shook his head.

She knew something had been bothering him for days, and this was the first time he had been unable to confide in her. She didn't know what to think. "Ron, you know you can tell me anything."

"No, not everything," he muttered.

Hermione leaned forward slightly. "Something at work? Some Auror secret?"

Ron looked at her, then shook his head and moved his gaze back to the ceiling. "Why on earth did you marry me?"

Hermione chuckled and rolled over on her side to face him, propping up her head on one elbow. "I guess I have a weakness for red heads," she said, running her fingers through his hair.

He grabbed her wrist and rolled over to look at her. "No, seriously. What if you had ... had ... other options?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked, drawing her brows together. "Are you implying that I'm not sexy enough to attract anyone else?"

"Of course not, love, that's not what ..." Ron began quickly.

"Wait a minute!" Hermione interrupted. "Is this about that fight you and Harry had the other night?"

He gazed at her silently for a moment. "You heard that? Why didn't you say anything?"

"I thought I'd better stay out of it since it concerned me. I figured I'd step in if it took you too long to make up." Hermione shook her head as realization dawned. "It never occurred to me that he might have gotten to you - that you might feel ... unsure about my feelings." She watched as Ron looked away and his eyes grew wet. "Why didn't you just ask me?"

Ron took a deep breath as one tear managed to escape. He spoke so quietly she had to strain to hear him. "Because I was afraid of the answer."

Her breath caught in her throat, and her own eyes began filling with tears. She knew Ron had always been envious of Harry, but she never imagined that would make him doubt her feelings. She silently cursed Harry; why couldn't he keep his mouth shut? Her anger toward Harry was reflected in her voice as she said, "Ron Weasley, look at me!"

He dragged his eyes to her face. "Ask me!" she commanded. He shook his head and looked down. "Ron Weasley! Look me in the eye and ask me!" She stared at him in desperation, and her voice softened. "Ron, we have to resolve this - we can't let Harry get between us."

The pain in Ron's eyes made her chest hurt as he finally said, "If you had known ... Harry ... loved you ... would you have chosen him?" Tears streamed down his face unchecked.

Hermione took a deep breath. She had to convince Ron of the truth, not only for the sake of their marriage, but for the sake of their friendship with Harry. She ignored her own wet cheeks and said, "Ron, I've been in love with you for years. If I had known how Harry felt, I would have still chosen to be with you. If you didn't love me, I still wouldn't be with Harry because of my love for you." She sighed as he averted his eyes and wondered what it would take to convince him.

"Why would you choose me over Harry? He's rich, he's better looking, he saved the world. He's got everything! What's not to love?" Ron clenched his jaw and practically spat the words.

She trailed her fingers down Ron's face and cupped his chin. "Harry's not you," she said simply. She smiled as Ron's eyes widened in wonder. "Ron, I'm not some silly fickle girl who doesn't know her own heart. If I had been in love with Harry, I wouldn't have turned to you when he was gone. I would have waited for him to come back." She gazed into his eyes and saw the emotion in them change slowly from wonder to realization to happiness.

After staring at her for a moment, he leaned over and kissed her, pulling her close. "I love you so much," he whispered against her lips. "What did I do to deserve you?"

"It must have been something really good," she teased.

He kissed her again, then closed his eyes and murmured into her neck, "I don't think I'll be having any more trouble tonight."

*************************************

"Mr. Potter, I'll come right to the point. We would like you to assist in our capture of the Cloaked Vigilante in the United States."

Harry dropped his teacup, which shattered on the floor. He ignored it, and searched Ms. Edwards' face for signs of teasing or entrapment. She seemed completely serious. He finally managed to stammer, "B-b-but ... d-didn't he ... stop?"

The Head of Magical Law Enforcement gave him a puzzled look, pulled her wand out of her pocket, and muttered a spell to repair the teacup. "Yes, he seemed to stop for a time. But now he's changed his tactics. Instead of stopping thieves, he's the thief. He's stolen over ten thousand dollars."

He was glad he wasn't holding anything breakable this time as he slumped backwards in his chair, mouth hanging open, staring at Ms. Edwards. She chuckled and continued, "Professor Dumbledore said you might be surprised, but he failed to convey the depth of your shock. Perhaps he should have talked to you first." She leaned forward slightly, her smile faded and her eyes seemed to be attempting to penetrate his soul.

He sincerely hoped she didn't know Legilimency. As he watched her search his face, he relaxed slightly; he surmised that she didn't know he was the original Cloaked Vigilante. He finally managed to stammer, "W-why me?"

Her eyes relaxed and she gave a small smile. "Dumbledore. He mentioned that you might have some unique insight into the situation, and that you had some talents that might be of benefit to our search. He didn't get into specifics, but I trust his judgment, and I usually accept his recommendations - he gives them so rarely. I was hoping you might enlighten me."

Harry swallowed and sat up straight. How much should he tell this woman? Would he be arrested? He spoke slowly, considering each word. "Well, I spent a year in the United States recently. So I guess I might understand their language and money and stuff."

She raised her eyebrows. "Language? They speak English."

Harry smiled. "Sort of."

"Anything else I should know?"

He stared at the ceiling for a moment. Then he looked Ms. Edwards in the eye and asked, "Can my next statement stay in this room?"

Her eyes widened, but she returned his direct gaze and said, "Yes."

He sighed, looked at his shoes, and shrugged. "Sometimes I know things before they happen. Professor Dumbledore thinks I might be a Diviner. I guess he thinks I might be able to predict where the Cloaked Vigilante will strike." He looked up at Ms. Edwards' face. She pursed her lips and regarded him shrewdly for a moment before speaking.

"Yes ... that explains a lot." She nodded and continued to stare at him intently. Harry swallowed hard and felt his heart begin to pound.

Her face suddenly returned to a business-like mask and she began rummaging in her desk drawer. "Okay, I can see why you wouldn't want the Press to find out about that. So I know you'll appreciate that we don't want word of this mission leaking out to the Press." Harry nodded and felt himself relax. "The Americans have asked for help, so we're sending a British Auror to join their Auror. You'll be along as a consultant of sorts." She pushed some parchment across her desk toward him. "Here's some paperwork to complete - you'll be temporarily in the employ of the Ministry." She stood, and Harry followed suit. "Let's go join the briefing." He grabbed the parchment and followed her into the hall.

"Dumbledore suggested the British Auror, too," she said as they walked. "Even though he's still in training, we decided to send him since you've worked together before." Harry forced a smile in her direction, knowing he was supposed to be pleased, but felt his stomach clench. They walked down a flight of stairs and entered a small conference room where two wizards were seated at a table, talking in low tones. The conversation stopped at their entrance, and they turned toward the door.

Ron's stood up slowly. "He's the consultant?" He walked to Harry and glared at him with angry eyes.

"Yes," answered Ms. Edwards, looking back and forth between the two of them. "Is there a problem?"

Ron stared at Harry for a long moment, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. Finally, he said, "No, there's no problem," turned his back on Harry, and retook his seat.

Ms. Edwards took a deep breath. "Okay. Harry, you obviously know Ron Weasley. I don't believe you've met Martin McFly, Head of the Auror Division." The grey-haired wizard stood partway and Harry shook his hand.

When they were all seated around the table, Mr. McFly began, "As I was telling Mr. Weasley, the Cloaked Vigilante seemed to be working his way down the East Coast of the United States several months ago. Then, after a month of no activity, he struck in Tulsa, Oklahoma, some fifteen hundred miles from the last strike. Only this time, he was the thief instead of the hero. He's hit two other places since then, both within sixty miles of Tulsa."

"How do you know it's not two different people?" Ron asked, carefully looking away from Harry. "I mean, he's changed tactics, he's in a different part of the country, there was a gap in activity..."

"The descriptions of the culprit haven't changed," McFly interrupted. "Same clothes, same voice, same height and build."

Ron looked as though he wanted to argue, but kept silent. Harry was grateful that Ron didn't reveal his secret.

Ms. Edwards looked casually at Harry and said, "Martin, I think we should consider that possibility. The description is vague enough that it could be a copy-cat."

McFly stared at her open-mouthed for a moment, and then said, "An hour ago you agreed with me."

"Well, I've decided we should all be a little more open-minded about the situation."

He looked at her a moment longer and shrugged. "Well, anyway, the real issue is how to catch him."

"That's where Mr. Potter comes in," she said. "He has some ... er ... special sleuthing abilities that should be helpful in this situation."

Harry caught Ron giving him a questioning look; he knew Ron was wondering how much he had told Ms. Edwards.

"What sleuthing abilities?" McFly asked. He looked from Harry to Ms. Edwards.

Ms. Edwards glanced at Harry; he shook his head ever so slightly. "I'm not at liberty to elaborate," she said. "But know that Professor Dumbledore highly recommended him for this mission because he thinks he can be of help. You'll have to take my word on this."

McFly frowned and narrowed his eyes in annoyance, but nodded. "Okay. The Americans sent over written statements from all witnesses and video recordings of the crimes. I suggest you both read the statements this evening, but we don't seem to have the equipment to watch the video records."

"Are they VHS tapes?" Harry asked.

The Senior Auror reached under the table and pulled out a video tape. He shrugged and handed it to Harry. As Harry examined it, Ron spoke, "We can watch them at our flat. Why don't you come over tonight around seven, Harry? We can order a pizza, watch the tapes, and read through the statements." Harry nodded in Ron's direction.

Mr. McFly put both hands on the table and stood. "Well, I think we're finished for now. I need the two of you back here tomorrow for a final briefing at two o'clock, then you'll floo to Washington to meet your partner."

They all began to exit the room. Harry felt a hand on his elbow and heard a quiet voice in his ear. "Can I have a word?" asked Ms. Edwards.

She waited for the others to leave and shut the door. He spoke before she could, "Thank you so much for keeping quiet ..."

"Mr. Potter," she interrupted, frowning and shaking her head, "I really don't like keeping my people in the dark, but this is a personal issue for you, and I respect your privacy. I'm walking a thin line here, and so are you."

Harry looked at the floor and said, "Ms. Edwards, about the Cloaked Vigilante ..."

"No. Don't tell me anything. I have my suspicions, but as long as you don't confirm them, I don't know anything. If my suspicions were confirmed, we would both be in a very awkward position. Is that clear?"

He looked at her with wide eyes and nodded, not sure whether to feel relieved. "I just wanted you to know that I'm trusting you only because of my faith in Dumbledore," she continued. "If you let me down, you're letting him down more. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"Yes," Harry replied. He didn't know what else to say to that, but he understood that if he botched this mission, Ms. Edwards would have trouble trusting Dumbledore again.

"One more thing," she said. "You need to consider telling the American Auror the ... things that relate to this mission. I got the impression Mr. Weasley already knows, but it's going to be difficult for you to work as a team if you're not all fully informed."

"I'll keep that in mind," Harry answered curtly.

Ms. Edwards nodded and opened the door. "Good luck," she said as they left the room.

He made his way down the rows of cubicles, looking for Ron's, not sure if he wanted to apologize, thank him, or throw him up against a wall. He found him sitting behind his desk, absorbed in the parchment in front of him. "Ron ..." Harry began. He paused, not knowing how to continue.

Ron sighed, but didn't look up from his desk. "Look, Harry, I've got a lot of paperwork to finish since I'm going out of town. I don't know when we'll be back."

"But ..."

Ron looked up at him. The cold mask had slipped a little, and Harry could see the pain in his eyes behind it. "I'll see you tonight, Harry," he said with finality. Ron's head dropped down to his work, and Harry stared at the top of his head for a moment before turning to leave.

Harry slowly made his way out of the Ministry of Magic, almost forgetting to turn in his visitor badge. He concentrated on his shoes as he walked to avoid the double-takes of passerby and breathed a huge sigh of relief when he finally reached the Apparation point and transported himself home.

Home. Harry was finally beginning to think of his flat as his home. He had gradually acquired several pieces of art that he liked, not paintings of flowers and apples like the Dursleys had hanging in their house, but angry, abstract swirls of dark colors. He couldn't explain it, but the paintings seemed to comfort him, possibly because they were proof he wasn't the only person who experienced pain. He realized his therapist would probably have a heyday explaining Harry's attraction to such art.

The refrigerator was always well stocked with butterbeer, if not always food. Harry grabbed a bottle, walked back to the living room, and flopped on the sofa. He fished around in the cushions for the remote control and flipped on the television, searching for something to grab his interest. After a few minutes, he slammed down the remote in frustration.

His eyes wandered to the painting over the fireplace, a swirling mass of grey, violet, and blue. He pulled out his wand and muttered an incantation, and the colors began to move in a close approximation of angry storm clouds, perfect for his mood. He stared for a long time, willing himself to become hypnotized by the motion so he could forget.

Of course, a person can't will themselves to be hypnotized, and Harry eventually found his eyes wandering below the painting to the fireplace mantle. It was covered with pictures of his two best friends; some were smiling, waving Wizard photos and the rest were frozen Muggle shots. The most recent were the pictures from the wedding. Harry's eyes filled with tears as he stared at Ron, who was glowing with happiness. He berated himself yet again for his harsh, careless words that had caused the strain in their friendship, and wondered what he could do to fix it.

He turned his focus to Hermione. She was beautiful in her wedding gown, and her face also radiated joy. She loves him, he thought. How could I doubt it? They belong together. I'm a selfish prat who deserves no one. Harry didn't bother to check the tears that trickled down his face.

His eyes wandered to the photo of the Bride and Groom with the Best Man and Maid of Honor. He brushed angrily at his eyes to clear the fog and focused on Ginny. A different emotion began to creep into his midsection. In another person, this feeling might have caused a calming peace, but in Harry, the sensation caused confusion and despair.

His thoughts turned longingly to the liquor store around the corner. It would be such a relief to be numb. But no, he wouldn't, he couldn't do it. He had to go to Ron and Hermione's tonight, and alcohol had caused this whole mess. Three faces began to swirl in his head as he stood up, clenching his fists at his sides, straining against the overwhelming desire for a drink.

In the end, the three faces of the people he had hurt most are what gave him the strength to toss the floo powder in the fireplace instead of Apparating to the liquor store. He cleared his throat and shouted, "Dr. Wilson's office!"

*************************************************

Harry's stomach was doing flip flops as he knocked on the Weasley's door. The meeting at the Ministry earlier had been the first time he'd seen Ron since their argument, and it was obvious Ron was still seething. Harry was hoping to get a moment alone with him this evening, even though he had no idea what to say. The pain of Ron's anger was almost unbearable.

Ron opened the door, his eyes still hard, guarded. He stepped back to let Harry in and looked at his shoes. Harry murmured an awkward greeting and shuffled into the flat.

Upon entering, Harry immediately noticed a wonderful aroma. "Something smells good," he commented, glad to have stumbled on a neutral topic of conversation. "I thought we were ordering pizza. What's that?"

"Hermione's baking cookies," Ron explained.

Harry shook his head and walked toward the kitchen. "Oi, Hermione, I thought you couldn't cook."

Hermione walked out of the kitchen wearing an apron over her jumper and jeans. Her apron was sprinkled with flour and there was a white smudge on her face. Harry thought she had never looked more beautiful, and then reminded himself he wasn't supposed to be having such thoughts. She put one hand on her hip and gave him an exasperated look. "Harry! Cooking and baking are two different things. Baking is more exact, like potions." Harry cocked his head, completely bewildered. Hermione shook her head and said, "I'd better get back to the cookies - don't want to burn them!"

Ron followed Hermione into the kitchen. Harry sat on the sofa and flipped through television channels until the doorbell rang. He answered the door and insisted on paying for the pizza. Ron agreed readily, which surprised Harry; his pride usually prevented him from accepting anything.

Even though they kept to safe topics during dinner, the conversation was somewhat stilted. Harry tortured himself wondering if Hermione knew about the fight. Her manner toward him seemed as easy as ever, but her smiles didn't quite reach her eyes. He was grateful, however, for her presence; she kept the mood light and the dialog going, and he wasn't anxious to be alone with Ron.

When Hermione brought in a plate of warm cookies after dinner, which they all agreed were delicious, Harry felt they could no longer postpone talking about the mission. "Ron, about this trip..."

"How much did you tell Ms. Edwards?" Ron interrupted.

"Oh. Well, only that I spent the last year in the States, and about the divination stuff. But I think she suspects that I was the Cloaked Vigilante."

Ron nodded. "That explains her sudden reversal on the copycat theory."

Harry watched his hand toying with his plate. "She ... er ... suggested that we should tell your American partner what we know. Have you met him yet?"

"Her. And no, I haven't. McFly just told me her name. I've got it written down in my file somewhere..."

"How much do you think we should tell her?"

Hermione spoke up. "Harry, this is your life we're talking about. You could go to Azkaban! I don't think you should tell her anything."

He shrugged and looked at Hermione. "I'd rather not, but how are we going to explain why I'm there, and how I know where to look?"

"You two are talking about different things, Harry," said Ron. "I think you should tell her about the divination, but not the Cloaked Vigilante. I don't think it will make any difference since we're definitely looking for a different guy now anyway."

"You're right," said Harry, looking at Ron. "Okay, we're agreed, then, we don't tell her I was the original Cloaked Vigilante."

"Agreed," said Ron and Hermione together.

Harry looked at Hermione, eyebrows drawn together in suspicion. "You're not going, are you?"

"Of course not," Hermione said a little too quickly. "I'm not exactly invited, am I?"

Harry continued his examination of Hermione's eyes, trying to read her intentions, until Ron cleared his throat. Harry's eyes flew to Ron's face which was smoldering with anger. He refrained, with difficulty, from rolling his eyes.

Ron cleared his throat again. "So, Harry, how are you going to find this guy?"

Harry looked down at his plate again. "I'm not sure. I'm going to talk to Snape and Dumbledore tomorrow - see if they have any ideas. I always had the predictions in dreams before, so maybe I just need to sleep. Maybe I'll see where he's going to strike next that way."

"Let me know if they have any ideas," Ron said. He stood up and put the first video tape in the player.

They moved to the sofa to watch the surveillance videos. About halfway through the second tape, Harry said, "Freeze it there!"

Ron fumbled around for the remote control and pushed the pause button. "No," Harry said, "back it up."

He watched as the tape reversed to just before the perpetrator drew his wand. "Okay, forward." Ron complied, and Harry yelled, "Freeze!" as the Cloaked Vigilante cast his spell. He got up, walked to the television, and bent over to examine the screen.

"What is it, Harry?" asked Hermione.

"The wand," said Harry. "It's familiar." He stared at the screen, unaware that he was rubbing his shoulder.

Ron joined him, studied the wand, and looked at Harry. "Harry," he said slowly, "are you rubbing your unforgivable scar?"

Harry looked at his shoulder in shock. "I am." He looked back at the television, and then at Ron.

"Malfoy," they said at the same time.

Hermione gasped, causing Ron and Harry to turn and face her. "How can you be sure? I thought he was dead."

"No, the Ministry doesn't think so," said Ron. "A body was never found. His mother still lives in their mansion, and she hasn't had a memorial service or anything. We think he and his father have been in hiding since Voldemort died, but Narcissa won't spill their whereabouts."

Harry turned back to the television. "There's no way to be sure, since he's covered by that cloak, but this person looks to be the right height and build. Ron and I certainly saw that wand plenty of times. And don't you think it's interesting that I started rubbing the scar he gave me when I saw the wand? I think my subconscious knew it was Malfoy's wand right away."

"Well, that's not very conclusive," said Hermione.

"You know," Harry said, looking at his shoes, "there is a way we could know for sure." He paused for a moment, and then whispered, "Is there a scar on his right hand?"

Ron gave Harry a long, solemn look, and then turned back to the television. Together, they watched the tape carefully, but it appeared the culprit was wearing gloves.

Harry sighed. "Well, it doesn't really matter if we're right about Malfoy - we still have to catch the guy. Right Ron?"

"Yeah." Ron said. "But if it is Malfoy, it might make it easier to predict what he'll do since we know him."

They watched all the tapes at least twice, paying close attention to the wand and right hand of the perpetrator, but didn't find any solid evidence that the Cloaked Vigilante was Draco Malfoy. They finally gave up and Harry stood to leave. Hermione said goodnight and wandered toward the bedroom.

Harry grasped Ron's arm. "Listen, Ron..." he began.

Ron turned and pulled his arm gently out of Harry's grasp. "Harry, I know we need to talk, but not yet. Okay?"

Harry searched Ron's eyes, but couldn't read them. He looked at the floor to hide his tears, shrugged, and walked out the door.

***************************************

Harry spent the early part of the next morning at Hogwarts, meeting first with Professor Snape, then Remus, and finally with Professor Dumbledore. He barely arrived in time for his eleven o'clock appointment with Dr. Wilson.

Now he was slumping in a chair across from her desk, feeling defeated. He had talked to the doctor about the war and his nightmares, but today he had finally gotten the nerve to tell her about his feelings for Hermione. He knew he had to sort this out in his mind before he went on the trip with Ron, so he told her about their argument and asked her what to do. He was really starting to wonder if their friendship would survive.

Dr. Wilson leaned back in her chair and said, "Well, you know you should talk to Ron, I don't need to tell you that. What's more important to you - your friendship, or your feelings for Hermione?"

"Our friendship," Harry answered without thinking, surprising himself.

"Why?"

Harry stared at the doctor for a moment, and then studied a crack in the ceiling. "I guess because there's no future in my feelings for Hermione. They're married and they love each other."

"Try again," said Dr. Wilson. Harry gave her a puzzled look. She shook her head slowly and said, "You just gave me a logical answer. When you told me your friendship with Ron was more important than your feelings for Hermione, you said it without thinking - it was from your heart. So I ask you again - why? Answer from your heart this time."

Harry thought about that for a few moments and shrugged. "I don't know - I guess maybe Ron's more important to me in a way?"

"Tell him that. Apologize, but also tell him how important his friendship is to you."

Harry nodded, absently pulling on the leg of his jeans. "You know," he said slowly, "to be honest, I'm kind of confused about my feelings for Hermione. I mean, how can I be in love with her if I'm attracted to other women?"

Dr. Wilson leaned forward in her chair and looked at him intently. "You've been friends with Hermione a long time."

"Since we were eleven."

The doctor's eyes continued to bore into his skull. "Have you been in love before?"

Harry looked at the ceiling as he considered that. He'd had a silly crush on Cho Chang; that certainly wasn't love. "No, only her."

"Maybe you're just so comfortable with Hermione that you're only imagining you're in love." Harry sat up straight in his chair. A few weeks ago, he would have never even considered the possibility. But now he found himself critically analyzing his feelings for Hermione, especially in light of other feelings he was realizing.

"But I feel jealous that she's with Ron," he said.

Dr. Wilson shrugged. "Well, I'll bet it changed your friendship a bit when they became a couple. Now they're closer to each other than they are to you. If you really think about it, your jealous feelings might also be about losing part of Ron's time and attention."

Harry slumped back in his chair again. "Well, you've given me a lot to think about," he said.

She smiled. "I'm glad I'm earning my fees."

*********************************************

Harry arrived at the Ministry to find Ron alone in the conference room. Ron glanced at Harry, looked away, and then looked more closely with a startled expression. He said, "Where are your glasses?"

Harry's hand automatically went to the bridge of his nose, and he smiled. "Snape gave me a potion this morning. Cured my eyesight."

Ron eyes widened in astonishment and he shook his head. "Why didn't he give it to you years ago?"

Harry shrugged and gave a small laugh. "I asked him that. He said I never asked. I think it's a power thing with him."

"Slimy git," Ron said under his breath.

Harry turned away to drop his overnight bag on the floor and noticed an extra bag. "Who's going with us?" he asked.

Ron shook his head and seemed to be avoiding Harry's eyes. "No one. Just the two of us."

Harry looked quizzically at Ron's two large suitcases, mentally comparing them to his one small duffel bag. Ron was also taking his owl, he noticed, which was unnecessary; they would have other ways to contact the Ministry. Then he noticed the owl in the cage.

It wasn't Pigwidgeon.

"Are you crazy?" Harry hissed. "Are you completely insane?"

Ron gave Harry a resigned look. "She insisted. She kept going on and on about it, and I finally agreed just to shut her up."

Harry shook his head at Ron in disbelief. "Won't you get in huge trouble?"

"Not if you don't tell. Besides ..." Ron grabbed Harry's left arm and pushed up the sleeve, revealing Harry's pet snake coiled around his arm. "... you brought Sonora."

"That's totally different, and you know it!" Harry and Ron sprang apart as the door opened and Mr. McFly and Ms. Edwards entered the room.

The meeting was brief and to the point, which appeared to be McFly's modus operandi. Since this was Ron's first mission and Harry was new to the Ministry, the Senior Auror summarized pertinent regulations and handed Harry a slim manual. Then he handed Ron a thin leather case, which Harry assumed was another book until Ron opened it, pulling out a mirror. Harry felt a pain in his chest.

"Use the mirror to contact me," McFly said. "I expect to hear from you at least once a day. Although you're free to call me any time, if it's not an emergency, please remember the time difference." He smiled grimly, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

Harry looked up and realized Ron was watching him, obviously concerned. He figured he must have gone pale or something, so he forced a small smile and gave a slight nod. He hadn't ever told Ron about Sirius's mirror, and this wasn't the time.

McFly's eyes darted between the two, but he continued, "Mr. Weasley, you don't need to take your owl."

"I wasn't taking her for communication," Ron protested. "I just didn't want to leave her alone - who would feed her?" Harry bowed his head to hide his smile.

"Don't you have a wife, and a large family?" McFly asked suspiciously. "Surely someone could take care of her."

Ron shrugged and stammered. "She just doesn't respond well to anyone else," he finally said.

Harry couldn't help the snort of laughter that escaped his lips. He just barely stopped a gasp when he felt the sharp jab in his calf from Ron's foot.

In the end, McFly let Ron take the owl. Harry and Ron grabbed their gear and took the floo to the American Ministry of Magic in Washington, D.C. They were greeted by a mass of blonde hair with a small, beaming face in the center.

"Hello!" said the witch, grabbing one of their bags with one hand and helping Ron to his feet with the other. "I'm Samantha Landers, Head of the Auror Department." She pulled out her wand and charmed their robes to remove the ashes, then turned, beckoning them to follow.

Harry and Ron looked at each other, a little bewildered, and followed her down a long hallway to a large conference room. She stopped at the door and waved them in. "Help yourselves," she said, waving her arm to indicate a table along the wall. "I'll go see if Lisa's here yet." She pulled the door shut and left them alone.

"Excellent! Food!" Ron exclaimed, reaching the buffet table in a few long strides. "Hey, it's all breakfast stuff."

Harry joined Ron at the table and examined the muffins, bagels, and coffee. Harry shrugged and said, "Well, you realize it's only eight o'clock in the morning here."

"Oh, yeah. Well. Whatever." He grabbed a napkin and loaded it with as much food as he could carry, and took it to the conference table. Then he returned and made a cup of tea.

Harry watched him with amusement, wondering if his appetite would ever diminish. Then he turned to the table and selected a cinnamon raisin bagel and coffee. As he was sitting down next to Ron, the door opened slowly, and a dark-haired witch poked her head around it. "Hey," she whispered, "are you the British Aurors?"

"Yeah," Ron said around a mouthful of muffin.

"Good. Be right back." The head disappeared and the door closed, but almost immediately reopened. "Wait," the witch said. "It there coffee in here?"

Ron swallowed his morsel. "Yeah."

She stepped into the room and almost ran to the buffet table. "Wow! They rolled out the red carpet for you guys." She poured a cup of coffee, added liberal amounts of cream and sugar, and sat down across from Ron. "I'm Lisa Gomez, by the way," she said as she stirred. "I think we're going to be working together."

"Ron Weasley." As he said this, he stood up and extended his hand. Lisa's eyes widened to the point that Harry wondered if they could contain her eyeballs. He couldn't help smiling to himself; it was the first time Ron had been recognized instead of him.

Lisa recovered quickly, rose, and shook Ron's hand. "I've read about your work against Voldemort, Mr. Weasley. It's a real pleasure to meet you."

"Thanks," said Ron, pink with pleasure. "But please call me Ron. And it's nice to meet you, too."

She turned to Harry. "And you are...?"

"I'm not an Auror; I'm just the sidekick," Harry smirked as he stood and extended his hand. Ron snickered; he was obviously enjoying this. "Harry Potter. Nice to meet you."

Lisa drew in a sharp breath and stared. After a moment she managed to stammer, "B-but you d-don't have your ... your glasses! I'm so sorry - I didn't recognize you!"

It was so refreshing to not be immediately recognized that Harry forgot to be annoyed at being treated like a celebrity. "I just had my vision corrected this morning. I don't need glasses any more." He smiled as she absentmindedly took his extended hand. "And don't even think about calling me Mr. Potter - it's Harry." He shook her hand, gently pulled away, and sat down.

Her arm floated down to her side and she sank slowly into her chair as she continued to stare at Harry with a bewildered look. Then her eyes widened suddenly and she looked down at her coffee, as if she had realized she was staring. Harry looked at Ron with narrowed eyes and Ron gave a small shrug.

In the awkward silence that followed, Harry pretended to focus on his bagel while he covertly examined Lisa. She had straight black hair that stopped at her chin, olive skin, and eyes so brown it was difficult to distinguish the pupils. Her face was plain, but not unpleasant, and she was dressed in Muggle clothing. She concentrated on her coffee, stirring furiously as he watched.

Harry breathed a small sigh of relief when the door opened again and several wizards and witches entered the room, including Ms. Landers, the witch who had escorted them to the conference room. He watched Lisa look up at Ms. Landers and silently mouth, "I'm going to kill you." Harry's eyes widened as he looked for Ms. Landers' reaction. She only smirked at Lisa, her eyes dancing with repressed laughter. Harry was so shocked at the familiarity between Lisa and her supervisor that he didn't think to wonder what the exchange was about.

Lisa avoided looking at Harry and Ron throughout the meeting. Harry began to get irritated; he had never met someone quite so star struck by his fame. He hoped she would get over it quickly so they could work together effectively.