Harry Potter and the Mysterious Stubbardmans

Back in the lab, Hermione was reviewing the case files on Megan Corner. She tried to maintain objectivity as she read the details of the autopsy's findings, but it was hard to forget that Megan Corner was Michael Corner's little sister. Megan was the cute, freckled girl, with a long, light brown ponytail held in place with a ribbon that flaunted the Ravenclaw colours. She was smart, perky and, as Ginny had described, always smiling.

Hermione placed the files down on the lab bench. Maybe I'm not cut out for this work. It's too painful. Poor Professor McGonagall. How awful it must have been to face Mr. and Mrs. Corner and give them the heartbreaking news--that their beautiful little girl, so full of life, was dead. These morbid thoughts continued to flood Hermione's mind until Dori's entrance into the lab broke their flow.

"Miss Granger, are we prepared for today's lesson?"

Hermione sat up straightly on the stool, cleared her throat, then answered, "Yes, I read the material last night."

"Very well. Here is the box of slides I want you to examine. Today's lesson is on blood cancers. What does cancer have to do with crime, you ask? Well, if you've been reading the assignments then it should be clear. So what's the answer?"

"Cancer, especially blood cancer, has to do with poisons affecting the bone marrow. When someone is exposed to something over a period of time, either through their lungs, through their skin or orally, they can accumulate toxins, which, gradually, can change the DNA of the cells produced in the bone marrow," Hermione recited having memorized the lesson.

"A textbook answer, Miss Granger, is not good enough for my apprenticeship. I want you to give me your answer. Based on what you have read, I want to know what your opinion is on the subject," Dori instructed.

Hermione felt her heart beating quickly. The pressure was on. Hermione had never experienced such difficulty with her lessons before. Forensic Criminal Investigation was nothing like Transfiguration, Charms or even Potions. She would do anything right now to be back in Professor Snape's Potions class. She knew Dori was waiting for an answer.

"Well, I believe that, in some cases, cancer is the result of a crime committed. When someone carelessly poisons the water, food, or air, they are criminally negligent and responsible for the cancer that people get. I believe that, with my skills, I can prove that negligence is the reason why some people get blood cancers."

"Excellent, Granger! See, that wasn't so hard now, was it?" Dori teased.

Hermione smiled nervously, and then sighed with relief as she waited for Dori's next instruction.

"So let's open the box of slides and take a look."

Hermione pulled on the snap of the box and opened it. The slides were securely held in place by the built-in tray with grooves, perfectly spaced to hold the thin glass rectangles. Each slide was smeared with a sample of someone's blood. One section of the box was marked 'Normal', while the remaining sections were marked with the different types of blood cancers.

The young apprentice watched her mentor as she took a slide from the box and carefully placed it on the microvisor's stage. Placing her wand into the hole for the coarse adjustment, Dori slowly brought the lens down as close as she dared to the surface of the slide. Placing her face up against the headrest of the scope, she looked in through the eyepiece and fiddled with the fine adjustment knob until the desired area was in focus.

"Hermione, take a peek and tell me what you see," Dori instructed, moving aside to give Hermione access to the visor.

Hermione looked down into the Pensieve-like vase over the stage. What she saw amazed her. As a picture emerged, the colours of the unusually large cells were exquisite. They were nothing like the dull colours of the normal slides she had looked at before. Hermione lifted her head to give Dori her assessment.

"They're beautiful. They're so colourful. It's hard to believe this slide could indicate a potentially lethal, medical condition."

"Ah, you have discovered something about Nature, my dear."

"And what's that?"

"Well, have you ever seen a black widow, a poison dart frog, or a coral snake?"

"I've seen pictures of them."

"And what do all of those things have in common?"

"Uh...well, besides being beautiful in colour, they're all potentially deadly," Hermione stuttered.

"Precisely. You will learn in time that in Nature, things that are beautiful are often the most deadly. Bear that in mind the next time you reach out to touch something that attracts your eye."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It was an unusually warm morning for February. There was a hint that spring might come early. Harry waited in the usual place where he and Aristotle would conduct a therapy session. Only this session would be special. Bridget would be the guest therapist.

Not a moment later, Bridget Candelier materialized, via special Portkey, a few feet away from where Harry was standing. Harry, startled by Bridget's surprise appearance, jumped.

"Did I scare ya, boy?" Bridget giggled.

"Just a bit."

"Well, then, no time to waste. Let's get started. Aristotle tells me you're progressing well. Good to know. I'm not very patient with slow learners. Here. I brought you a sword that you can use," she said, handing Harry a sword with a handle simply designed for the beginner. It was made for easy gripping and had no decorative engraving. Bridget placed a protective charm on it so that Harry wouldn't cut himself.

"So, Potter, I have a question for you."

"Okay."

"If Godric Gryffindor was such a great wizard and had a wand at his disposal, what would he be needing a sword for?"

The question stopped Harry in his tracks. He thought for a moment. It's true. If you have a wand, why would you need a sword? Wizards don't use swords when they duel. "I'm stumped, Bridget. I have no idea."

"You're right. You wouldn't have any idea, unless..."

"Unless what?"

"You knew that the sword Gryffindor was carrying was no ordinary sword."

"What do you mean?" Harry's curiosity was growing exponentially. Basilisk venom coating came to mind, but he sensed that Bridget was getting at something else.

"A witch or wizard's sword holds magical powers, Potter."

"Yeah? You mean like a wand?"

"You mean like a wand?" Bridget mockingly mimicked. "Of course that's what I mean, ya silly leprechaun. Look here. Take out your wand and conjure your Patronus," she instructed.

Harry was reluctant at first. Even though he had been practicing the protective charm with some success, he was hesitant about trying to produce it now.

"What's the matter, Potter? Aristotle said you were coming along with your Patronus. Well, let's see it!"

Harry pulled out his wand and yelled out the incantation. "EXPECTO PATRONUM."

Out shot the ghostly figure of an unsteady stag, like a newly born fawn struggling to get to its feet. Harry glanced over to Bridget to gauge her expression. She showed no emotion, no clue about her opinion of Harry's Patronus. Harry continued to keep the stag galloping. He began to concentrate on one of his favourite memories of Ginny. It was then that the stag's gallop stabilized. Harry felt his strength giving way so he pulled back and extinguished the cloud-like beast.

Bridget stopped for a moment then praised her pupil. "Not bad, Potter. It still needs some work. I wouldn't trust it up against a Dementor just yet, but not too shabby. Now, I'll conjure my Patronus."

The proud Auror pulled out her wand and held it high in the air. "EXPECTO PATRONUM!" Out shot a charging lioness. The white, cloudy form was large and glistening.

Harry gazed enviously at it. He had never witnessed such a spectacular Patronus. He knew then why Bridget was considered top of her trade. "Wow, it's incredible! I've never seen anything like it."

"Yeah, you think, do you?" Bridget challenged. She extinguished the Patronus and returned her wand to its holster. "Okay, Potter, I see you're too easily impressed. You think that was something? Watch this."

Bridget pulled out her sword. It was the shiniest metal Harry had ever seen. He could tell by the way the edges of it twinkled in the sunlight, that she took great pains to keep it extraordinarily sharp. The handle was made of the finest gold plate and decoratively engraved. The feisty, little Auror reached over and plucked a hair from Harry's head.

"Ouch!" Harry said, rubbing the part of his head that Bridget had offended.

Bridget smiled coyly then took the strand of hair and held it a few inches above the blade of the sword. She looked back at Harry, who was watching as she dropped the hair, allowing it to hit the blade. The blade made a clean split right up the middle of the strand of hair. The strand remained stuck on the blade. Harry gulped, realizing now just how sharp the sword was.

"Ready to see what this sword is capable of doing, Potter?"

Harry simply nodded.

Bridget raised the brilliantly glowing sword high into the sky and yelled the famous incantation once more, "EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

Within an instant, the largest, whitest, and most ferocious figure of a lioness shot out from the sword. It was so incredible, that the waves of its form caused a strange humming sound to emerge. Based on how Bridget was struggling to maintain her balance, Harry could tell that this Patronus formed a force field too powerful for any evil entity to penetrate.

Bridget eventually extinguished it. She was panting from having to exert so much physical effort. "So, Potter, ready to give it a try?"

Harry nodded, although he didn't mean to. It was an automatic reflex caused by some strange influence that Bridget was having over him. Bridget placed her sword back in its metal case then walked over to Harry.

"Take the sword I gave you and hold it high up in the air."

Harry did as she told him to. He noticed how heavy the sword felt. He used both hands to steady it. He readied himself by placing one foot far forward and leaning firmly back on the other.

"Okay, Potter. Let's see what you've got."

Harry shouted out the Patronus incantation and, in seconds, a gigantic stag burst forth from the sword. The force caused Harry to lose his footing and he fell flat on his back. The Patronus vanished.

"Well, okay. Not bad for a first try, but you'd fare far better to impress your enemies if you didn't fall on your arse."

"I couldn't help it. The energy was too strong," Harry complained.

Bridget helped him to his feet. "Here, try it again, only this time, I'll be behind you."

"It doesn't make sense. How come you're able to do it? You're shorter than me."

"I've had more practice, that's all. I know the trick to it. And another thing, hot shot, don't underestimate my strength. Just because I'm shorter than you, doesn't mean I couldn't lay you out in a battle," Bridget warned indignantly.

Harry noticed another characteristic that Bridget shared with her younger brother. She had enormous pride, fuelled by a terrible fear of inferiority. He allowed her to stand close behind him with her two hands bracing his upper body.

"Okay, Potter, the day ain't getting any younger and neither are you! So, as they say, 'if at first you don't succeed, suck down another Curly, and give it another whirly!'"

Once again, Harry assumed position and yelled out the incantation. The force was just as strong as before, only this time Bridget was pushing against her patient to keep him upright.

"Stand, Potter! Stand!" she strained.

"I'm trying!"

"Well, try harder! For the love of Merlin, boy!"

The moment Bridget sensed that Harry was getting the hang of steadying himself, she let go. Taking a few steps back, the feisty Auror observed her patient with glee.

"I'm doing it! I'm doing it!" Harry shouted with excitement. The great stag pranced with purpose from the sword. Its white, fluttering clouds filled Harry's view of the sky. Harry began to feel his strength give way, so he pulled back, and the sword relinquished the great, white form.

"Atta, b... Good man!" Bridget quickly corrected herself, giving Harry a pat on the back.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Saint Patrick's Day was always a special time of the year for the Candeliers and Stubbardmans. Grace decided she would go to Diagon Alley to buy some gifts for her mother and other family members. It would be a nice break from having to spy on Potter, she thought to herself. She used an old Portkey that her mother gave her to quickly travel into town.

Diagon Alley seemed especially busy that day. It was the first day of the year that one could walk around without a coat. It happened to be lunchtime, so the restaurants were jammed with folks looking for a quick bite to eat. Grace meandered around, taking in all of the sights. She recognized Ollivander's and the pet shop where students bought their pets for school. She remembered many things about the place because of the trips she and her mother had secretly made when they visited her uncle at the Ministry. Aristotle had always insisted on going to the Leaky Cauldron for a meal then a walk through the Alley.

Grace eventually stumbled across a store at ninety-three Diagon Alley. The sign read Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes. Grace opened the door and stepped inside. She barely strolled a few feet when a voice from behind the counter said, "Good afternoon. Can I help you with anything?"

George Weasley was in the process of un-boxing the last of the whoopee cushions. Mr. Weasley had brought back a box of them during one of his raids. George loved them and added them to the store's inventory, which he was preparing for April Fools' Day. His favorite holiday and birthday was only two weeks away. Grace looked over to see where the voice was coming from. The moment she got a look at the man behind the counter, her heart froze. He was the most handsome, young man she had ever seen. Her heart began to beat irregularly. She felt her knees grow weak, and her cheeks get hot.

"Erm...no...erm...I'm just looking," she stuttered.

George stood up to get a better look at the pretty brunette with rosy cheeks and sparkling blue eyes that had waltzed into his store. Hmm, now there's a looker, he thought. Swallowing nervously, he watched her loop around the narrow aisle near the sweets that made one puke in rainbow colours.

Not knowing what it was, he couldn't take his eyes off her. Remaining calm, he continued to observe her, occasionally turning away and pretending to be busy doing something else in order to avoid being caught staring. She periodically looked his way. He conceded privately that her appearance had taken hold of his attention.

George suddenly felt desperate to do something. He didn't know why he was feeling the way he was, but he just knew that if he let her leave the store without knowing her name, he'd never forgive himself. What should I do? What should I say? Think, George, think! were just some of the frantic words racing through the love-stricken and bewildered storekeeper's mind. He had heard about things like this happening to people - love at first sight, but he considered all of it to be rubbish. Now, the biggest joke was happening - and it was happening to him! And of all places - in his own joke shop!

He decided that a little more investigation of the new and incredibly attractive stranger was necessary. It was time he gave this girl the Fred and George Weasley sense of humour test.

"Is there a particular gag that you're looking for, or are you keeping your options open?"

"This candy that makes you puke in rainbow colours." Grace held up the box.

"Yes?" George replied.

"Do you carry the kind that makes you puke in black and white?"

Uh-oh, George thought, this calls for more drastic measures. George chuckled in spite of himself.

The subtle smirk on Grace's lips and unexplainable sex appeal didn't help make things any easier for George, who was trying without much success to deny his feelings. "I ran out of those last week. Would you settle for the kind that makes you puke in beige?" he returned with an equally infectious smile.

"I suppose I have no choice, although, beige is so boring."

All right, admit it, he thought, not only is she pretty, but she's got a brain too! George decided it was time to stop flirting and get down to business. She's got a brain and a sense of humour. Now let's see if she's got a soft side.

He got an idea. "We're having a sale on Pygmy Puffs," he called out, inadvertently stepping on an inflated whoopee cushion, lying on the floor. It made an embarrassingly incriminating noise.

Grace stepped back and turned to look at him. His face was as red as a beet.

"Er...that wasn't me. I mean it was me...but it's not what you're thinking," George explained in a shaky voice, lifting the now deflated, offending toy for her to see.

Grace giggled. "Oh. I'm sorry, what were you saying before?"

George became nervous but maintained composure. He realized he had gurgled his words out of sheer embarrassment, and the whoopee cushion hadn't helped matters. Now she was making him repeat them. It would have been easier if she just shot him with the Cruciatus curse, but no! He came to the disturbing conclusion that he was going to have to walk around from behind the counter - his source of support...and something to grab onto, in case he needed an emergency leaning post.

"Um...we have a sale on Pygmy Puffs," he repeated stumbling over to the display shelf.

By this time, Grace was also feeling unsteady on her feet. It seemed as though her ears were beginning to clog up. It has to be obvious by now. He has to know I like him. This is so embarrassing. I've never felt this way before. What's happening to me? Okay, Grace, get a grip. You've never met this guy before. How could you possibly be feeling this way? the little voice of reason inside her head mercilessly inquired.

"Oh, they're cute. How much?"

"Well, we have a special, fifty percent off the original price," George replied.

"But your sign says twenty percent," Grace pointed out.

"Oh, well...that was yesterday's discount." George gulped. He turned to the display case, picked up a purple Pygmy Puff, and gently placed it in Grace's hands.

She gasped in delight. "It's adorable! Do they come in green? I would like to buy one for my mum for Saint Paddy's Day."

"No, I'm sorry. Just pink and purple, I'm afraid," George replied, feeling dejected.

Grace saw the look of disappointment in George's eyes as she continued to pet the little ball of fluff that was curled up in her hands. "You know, it really is a cute little thing. So what if it's purple? I'll take it."

"You will?" George's face lit up. "Okay, let me get you something to carry him in," he said, returning behind the counter and ducking down to retrieve a carrier.

Grace followed him and stood on the customer's side of the counter. "By the way, how much do I owe you?"

"Huh? Oh...it's eight Galleons, but with the discount, it will only be four," George calculated.

"Okay." Grace placed the Pygmy Puff on the counter, and then scrounged around in her book bag for her wallet. She placed the money on the counter just as George emerged with the carrier.

George took the four Galleons, rang up the sale on the register, and then gently put the Pygmy Puff into the carrier. Grace watched him unaware of the silly grin that had formed on her face. George placed the carrier in front of her.

"Here you go. By the way, my name is George. I'm George Weasley of Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes."

"Wow, so you're one of the owners?"

"Yeah." George replied, a bitter taste in his mouth. He forced himself to not think about Fred. "I take it you're a Hogwarts student... Hufflepuff?"

"Yeah. My name is Grace--Grace Stubbardman."

"I was in Gryffindor when I attended. My brother and I dropped out though, so we could run the store," he painfully recalled. He caught himself again, forging a smile. "Couldn't take that ridiculous Umbridge woman for another minute. Aw, but you don't want to hear all about that."

"Of course I do. Please, go on."

"We did so well in our first year, we made Zonkos go out of business!"

"Wow! That's amazing. A true success story."

"Stubbardman," George said out loud. "Why does that name sound so familiar? You wouldn't happen to be Dori Stubbardman's daughter, would you?"

"Yes, how did you know?"

"Oh, my brother's fiancé, Hermione, spoke forever about your mum this past Christmas. She's really impressed with your mum, and impressing Hermione is not an easy thing to do."

"Oh, yeah...well ...I guess I should be going."

"Yeah, it was nice meeting you. Oh, here, take my card," George insisted, handing her one of his business cards.

"Thank you." Grace smiled, then turned around and left the store.

Okay, George, contact Ron and Ginny. Find out more about her, the voice inside his head commanded. George took some parchment from one of the drawers at the counter, wrote a message, and then gave it to one of his delivery owls.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Back at Hogwarts, Ginny was sitting in the common room with Ron and Harry when the owl that George sent flew in from one of the windows. The owl dropped the message on the book that Ginny was reading.

"What's this?" Ginny asked, picking up the envelope and opening it.

Ginny, Ron,

I need you to do me a favour. I need to know if you know a Grace Stubbardman, and if so, if you could tell me everything you know about her. Don't ask me why. Just do it.

George

"What does he want to know about her for?" Ron snickered.

"I bet he caught her doing something, like getting some supplies for her next victim -- like you, Harry," Ginny replied in a foreboding tone.

"Ginny, for the last time, that may have just been a coincidence. Why would Dori's daughter try to kill me?" Harry debated.

"Because she works for the Death Eaters or some branch of them."

"That's ridiculous! There's no way the Min..." Harry realized that what he was about to say on behalf of Grace's defence would sound even more ridiculous. He knew perfectly well that there were spies and other infiltrators working for the Ministry.

"Yes, go on. You were saying," Ginny sardonically challenged.

"Never mind. Look. Whatever the reason is for George wanting to know about Grace, I'm sure it's nothing we need to know. Besides, if it had anything to do with what you're thinking, don't you think he would have said it in the letter?"

"No. Maybe he knows that all mail is being checked. Maybe he was afraid of what would happen if that owl got intercepted before his note got to us."

"She has a point," Ron interjected.

The three remained silent for a moment then Harry's face began to form a long grin. "Hey, maybe he met her somewhere and thought she was cute. Maybe he wants you to fix him up with her."

"Harry! I can't believe you just said that! Take it back!" Ginny growled, threateningly.

Harry felt nervous as he looked at Ginny's angry face. "Well, it's just a thought. Who knows, maybe Grace is just the girl you're looking for to help you with that plan that you and Hermione were working on this past Christmas," Harry chuckled.

Ginny rolled her eyes then abruptly threw her legs over the bench, gathered her books, and stormed out of the common room.

"What's wrong with her?" Ron inquired.

"She's been all bent on Grace being the one responsible for all of these terrible things. I think she might be jealous, because I've been working so closely with Aristotle and Bridget," Harry speculated.

"So, what does that have to do with her being jealous?"

"Well, Aristotle and Bridget are Grace's uncle and cousin, so naturally she thinks I'm going to get close to Grace, who you have to admit, is pretty easy on the eyes," Harry confessed.

"Yeah, you're right about that. She's definitely a looker, but maybe Ginny might be right."

"Oh, come on. Not you, too?"

"Just think for a moment, Harry. Doesn't it seem weird that each time someone tried to kill you, Grace was around?"

"I know. I thought about that, too, but she seems like a really cool person. There's nothing about her that would make me think she was evil."

"That's just the sort of person that would be a killer--the kind that no one would ever suspect," Ron whispered.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Two weeks had gone by and it was nearly time for another April Fools' Day party at Fred and George Weasley's flat. Of course, this year only George would be hosting it, but hopefully, that would be the only thing different. Though the date landed on a Thursday, that wouldn't stop friends and family from gathering for a little socializing and prank pulling. The party would also be a great excuse to invite a certain Hufflepuff.

The problem with the party was that it would be held in the evening after curfew. Grace wanted desperately to attend. She carried her invitation in her backpack and would take it out periodically to look at it. Just knowing who sent it made chills run up the back of her neck. Since the day that she had met George Weasley, she couldn't get him out of her thoughts or dreams.

It was Tuesday night and again it was time to report to her mother. She crept out of bed and took out the box that contained her crystal ball. She tiptoed down to the common room and called for Dori.

"Grace, how are things going?"

"So far, so good. Other than that fiasco in February, things have been on track. I think I might just have a solution to our situation, but in the meantime, I would love to go to a party this Thursday night. I was thinking maybe Bridget could be our escort. I know Potter will want to go, and those Weasleys will probably talk him into sneaking out. I think I should go, if you want me to keep an eye on him."

"Hmm, that's true. Where is this party?"

"George Weasley's flat. He and his brother used to hold them every year. Since his brother Fred died, he's decided to have the party in honour of Fred."

Dori sadly pondered on her daughter's comment. "Fine. I'll talk to Ari as well. Maybe with both him and Bridget there, Uncle Titus will be more reasonable."

"Thanks, Mum."

"Good night, my love, and remember..."

"I know. Keep my eyes on the prize. Good night."