Making Mistakes

Harry sank into an empty chair. 'Tell me everything,' he demanded.

*****

'I don't know what happened,' Kathleen said. 'And yes, I know what her Animagus form is, but it was getting dark and it was raining...' Kathleen trailed off glumly.

'It's okay, Kathleen,' Harry told her. 'Don't beat yourself up. More experienced Aurors than you have been given the slip with much more than you've had to go on.'

'Same thing at the house,' Iain interjected. 'She Apparated into the front garden. Muggles didn't even notice. By the time I got to the gate, she was gone.'

'Damn,' Harry muttered with quiet vehemence, rubbing his face, tiredly. 'We'll have to stay on our toes, then. Be faster than she is.'

'Good luck with that,' muttered Andre. 'She's pretty damn fast once she transforms.'

'We're going to double up on shifts,' Harry pronounced. 'Two of us at each location for twelve hours.' A few of the trainees' eyebrows rose in silent disbelief. 'I'm sorry to do this to you, but we're going to get her. She's spent too much time mucking about with people's lives.' He looked around the table at the trainees' faces. They held a faint whisper of tenacity under the abject dejection. 'It's all right,' Harry repeated. 'First shift starts at six, so I suggest you lot get to bed and get some sleep. You'll need it.

'Bree and Iain, you're going to Skye tomorrow, second shift. I'll take the first one. Kathleen, Andre, you'll have the first shift for the house. Kevin and Moira will take the second one. Make sure you tell Kevin when you relieve him in the morning, and I'll take care of Moira.'

Harry watched with seeming impassivity as the trainees filed out of the kitchen. He looked at Shacklebolt. 'Send the other three trainees up tomorrow. I want them here by five in the morning,' he said calmly.

'Are you sure you want the newbies?'

'Absolutely. They've been on this from the beginning, and haven't learned any bloody preconceived notions of how it's supposed to go.'

'But five in the morning?'

'Yes.'

'Harry, I'm not trying to tell you how to run your investigation, but isn't that a bit early?' Shacklebolt leaned against the counter.

Harry's eyes glittered dangerously. 'I don't give a royal flying ffff-' he snarled. He stopped, catching himself, breathing heavily through his nose and bit his lip hard enough to draw blood. 'I don't care how early it is. I want them here before I go out so I can get them caught up.'

Shacklebolt's brows creased in worry. 'All right. I'll get on it as soon as I get to London.'

'Brilliant,' Harry muttered. He picked up his knapsack and threw it into the scullery harder than he intended. He hadn't dared to hope they found her while he was gone, but to find out she had been in their grasp, then slipped through their fingers was entirely too frustrating. To add it to everything else - Ginny, James, Albus - it was almost more than he could stand.

'I can't believe it,' he growled. 'Merlin's sagging bollocks, I can't believe they let her get away,' he ground out.

'Harry, they did everything right.' Shacklebolt said softly.

'I know. I trained them,' Harry replied shortly.

'How's Ginny?'

'Fine.' Harry glared at the tabletop.

'And the baby?' Shacklebolt asked tentatively.

'So far, so good. If anything happens, Ginny's to contact you directly.'

'That's fine.'

Harry raised his booted feet and plopped them into a vacant chair. 'How did you manage to look for Sirius as long as you did? What was it? Two years?'

Shacklebolt chuckled. 'For starters, I wasn't married with a toddler and a newborn. The second year on Sirius' trail doesn't count. Dumbledore sent me a rather discreet owl inviting me to come up to the school the summer after the incident with the Dementors. He told me everything. I didn't look very hard the second or third years, to be honest. I even fed the Ministry false information about Sirius' whereabouts.'

Harry's mouth dropped open. 'You don't think she... She has someone on the inside, do you?'

'I'm not sure. I don't think so, though. She has far more enemies than friends there these days.' Shacklebolt reached down and squeezed Harry's shoulder. 'Don't be too hard on them, lad. They've been beating themselves up for three days.'

'I know. I would have done the same thing, if I was one of them. I did, too.'

'Take your own advice, Harry. Get some sleep. You don't look like you've had much lately. I'll have the newbies here by five.'

'Thanks.' Harry wearily pushed himself to his feet. 'I'll walk you out.'

He followed Shacklebolt to the back garden, where a discarded, misshapen football rested. 'I'll check in next week,' he told Harry, stooping to pick up the football. Harry watched as Shacklebolt vanished, then turned back into the house.

He closed the scullery door, and shoved the knapsack off the bed onto the floor. Harry pulled the photograph of Albus out of his pocket and picked up the framed photograph of Ginny and James. He pulled the back off, and slid the small photograph of Albus between the other one and the glass. Harry pushed the backing into place and set it in its place on the windowsill. He slumped forward, his elbows resting on his knees, watching as the tiny fist opened slightly and closed. He bent to untie the laces of his boots and pulled them off, swinging his feet onto the bed. He reached over to the windowsill, picked up the photograph, and let his fingers curl around the frame. 'G'night, Gin,' he mumbled.

*****

Charlie felt the vibrations from his right wrist hum up his arm and jumped, startled, dropping his book to the floor with a sharp thud. He stared down at the dark green bracelet around his wrist, then looked over at the bed, where Ginny slept, curled around a spare pillow. She hadn't moved, so Charlie sighed in silent relief that he hadn't woken her up. She looked like she hadn't slept in days. The vibrations grew stronger and Charlie shot out of the cozy armchair and darted for the door. As soon as he crossed the threshold, his wrist stopped buzzing. He slowed down and peered into the dimly lit room, where Albus lay in a small cot.

Bronwyn had warned him it might be a shock. Isabella hadn't necessarily been a large baby, but she made Albus look like a doll. He wasn't prepared emotionally for the small, frail-looking body, wrapped tightly in a blanket. He looked down at his broad, blunt-fingered hands. If he held them out flat, the palms nearly touching, he could just about hold the baby in his hands. Isabella had been all dimpled arms and legs, soft with baby pudginess. What Charlie could see of Albus was thin, delicate skin. He thought he might tear it like wet paper if he handled the baby too roughly. Charlie looked down at his hands again. The palms and fingers were rough and calloused from working with the dragons and hatchlings.

He swallowed past his apprehension and accepted the warmed bottle from Ewan, before sitting gingerly in the rocking chair. Charlie watched as the burly intern scooped up the baby and gently laid him into Charlie arms. 'You'll have to watch him tell you he's hungry,' Ewan informed Charlie. 'He doesn't cry yet to let you know he's hungry, but he'll start rooting or sticking his tongue out.'

Charlie nodded and gazed down at his newest nephew's face. He ran a cautious finger over Albus' cheek, repressing a shudder at the feel of the skin dragging under his fingertip. His respect for his baby sister inched up another notch. Harry, too. He knew he couldn't have done this. Not without breaking down. Or breaking something. Preferably someone else's nose.

He watched in absorbed fascination as Albus stirred and blinked bemusedly at him, before he stuck his tongue out a few times. Remembering Ewan's instructions, Charlie picked up the bottle and encouraged Albus to take it. It's like working with the hatchlings, Charlie thought in amusement. Hatchlings were testy to begin with, and more than a few of the Hebrideans had to be coaxed into eating. This was no different.

Ginny had given him the full rundown of details earlier. Keep the noise level down, so no talking to the baby while he ate. He tended to fall asleep quite often when he ate. That in of itself was quite a surprise to Charlie. The Weasley babies tended to be rather hearty eaters, so the fact that one had to persuade Albus to take more than one cc in an hour hit Charlie between the eyebrows. She had mentioned something about the baby's breathing, but by then, Charlie had been numbed by the assault of information thrown at him by his anxious sister.

Albus' tongue pushed the bottle's nipple out of his mouth and his eyes drifted shut. Charlie reached over and set the bottle down on a table, using both hands to shift Albus into a more comfortable position. The movements of the miniature back were so slight, Charlie didn't even notice when they stopped.

The frantic beeping of an alarm made him sit up, glancing about the room in alarm. Ginny came running into the room - still half-asleep - tripping over the cuffs of her overlong pajama bottoms. She pried Albus from Charlie's grasp and began to gently rub his back. 'Come on, Albie,' she whispered. 'Breathe for Mummy...' She bit her lip, but her hand continued to travel its steady path up and down the back that was smaller than Charlie's palm.

Charlie gasped as Albus' lips began to turn blue, and the beeping increased its urgent tattoo. Or so it seemed to Charlie, focused as he was on Ginny's hand. Ewan shouldered Charlie aside, fitting a miniscule mask over Albus' mouth and nose. Dimly, Charlie pondered how such a large bear of a man like Ewan could handle a tiny baby with so much gentleness. Ewan's hands wrapped around the bag attached to the mask, and he delicately squeezed the bag.

After a few squeezes, the alarm stilled, and Ewan removed the mask with a sigh of relief. Ginny sank into the rocking chair, Charlie hadn't realized he vacated, holding Albus to her chest. He noticed she had started to shake, and crouched down in front of her. 'Gin? Let me take the baby...' He was afraid she would drop him. Reluctantly, Ginny transferred Albus to Charlie and sat back in the rocking chair, watching Charlie replace Albus in the cot through half-open eyes. Charlie picked up the bottle and handed it back to Ewan, and pulled Ginny to her feet. He propelled her back into the bed and sat in the armchair. Ginny had nearly gone back to sleep when Charlie blurted, 'What the bloody hell was that?'

Ginny's eyes flew open, and she frowned. 'Weren't you listening?' she asked in slight disapproval.

'I got a bit overwhelmed toward the end of the lecture,' Charlie sheepishly admitted.

'It's nothing, really.'

'Did he stop breathing?' Charlie asked warily.

'Yes.' Ginny relaxed into the bed once more. 'Apnea. Most of the time, you can rub his back and he'll start up again. Sometimes, they have to force him to breathe.' She looked up at Charlie. 'It's not as scary as it looks.'

'Could've fooled me,' Charlie muttered.

'He's all right,' Ginny yawned.

'How do you do it, Gin?'

'I can't afford to panic,' she murmured sleepily.

Charlie sat awake far into the night, listening carefully for anything, jumping shadows. He eventually fell asleep, snoring softly after his last feeding shift, eyes bloodshot, and a day's worth of dark red stubble gracing his face.

*****

Harry lay in the camp bed, staring at the shadows playing on the low ceiling. He held his wrist up, squinting at the face of his watch. It was after one. The trainees would be in Inverness in a few hours. Sitting up with a muffled groan, Harry hauled himself out of bed and shuffled into the kitchen. The file of the past week's activities lay in the middle of the table. He dropped into a chair and pulled the file toward him. He let his hand rest on the cover of the file, eyes closed; allowing himself to imagine, just for a moment, what it would feel like to finally have her.

Harry propped his head in one of his hands and opened the file. He'd read it just a few hours ago, the various hands of each trainee detailing the events of their shifts. Kathleen's neat, round hand and Iain's block printing from Thursday had burned themselves into his brain. He slowly turned the pages until he came to Thursday's entry, obsessively reading it over and over again. Shacklebolt was right. They had done everything just the way he'd trained them to do, even if his methods veered to the unorthodox side.

'Reading it like that won't change anything,' Kathleen spoke softly into the oppressive quiet of the room. 'I know. I've done it every night since.'

Harry closed the file and tilted his head back to look at Kathleen. 'No, it won't.'

'I'm sorry, Harry,' she said uncomfortably, after several long moments.

'What for?' he asked blankly.

'We let you down.' The corners of Kathleen's mouth turned down.

'You didn't let me down,' Harry sighed.

'But I heard you... And Shacklebolt...'

'You didn't let me down. None of you did.' Harry pushed the file away. 'I've just been waiting for an opportunity like this for so damn long.' He slid down in the chair, so he balanced on the edge of the seat. 'It's just a bit frustrating to have it slip away like that.'

'Do you know why she's doing this?'

'I have an idea, but if you've got one, I'd like to hear it,' he said frankly.

'All I know is what's on public record,' Kathleen admitted. 'You and Mrs. Granger-Weasley were instrumental in destroying her career after the war.'

'Destroying is a bit harsh,' Harry objected. 'We did no such thing. She did it to herself. We just made sure she was given the appropriate reprimand for it.'

'Given by what we've seen of her, I think it's safe to say she doesn't feel the same way.'

Harry let out a soft bark of laugher. 'That's the biggest understatement I've ever heard.' He stood up. 'Go on back to bed. You're going to need the sleep.'

Kathleen turned to go back into the bedroom she shared with the other two female trainees. 'How's your wife?' she asked. 'And the baby?'

'They're fine,' Harry said, walking toward the scullery, not wanting to get into details.

'I'm surprised you came back,' she offered.

'I never leave a job unfinished, and I'll be damned if I leave before I can finish this one,' Harry stated flatly. 'Good night, Kathleen,' he added, clearly in dismissal.

He threw himself back onto the camp bed, wondering if at this point it would be worse to go to sleep than to stay awake.

He was still wondering when he fell asleep.

*****

Arthur pushed the door to Ginny's room open. Ginny wasn't in the bed, so Arthur assumed she was with Albus. Charlie was curled up in a squashy armchair, both legs draped over one arm, while his head lay pillowed on the other, an occasional light snore coming from his half-opened mouth.

It made Arthur itch for a camera.

He set the basket on the table next to the bed, and reached down to shake one of Charlie's legs to wake him. He remembered not to stand near Charlie's arms. He was liable to groggily try to clout someone for attempting to wake him up too early. How Charlie managed to wake up for breakfast and his first classes in school mystified Arthur. Once, Bronwyn had laughingly told the family, he had even slept through a well-placed Levicorpus charm.

'Charlie? Come on, then, son. Wake up, eh?'

'Eeeeeehhhhhhhhnnnnnnnnn.' Charlie tried to burrow into the cushions of the chair.

'Charlie, it's time to go home, son.' Arthur shook Charlie's foot, waggling it back and forth insistently.

Charlie cracked open a baleful dark blue eye and glared at Arthur. 'I was sleeping, Dad.'

'Yes, Charlie, you were. We'll take things from here. Get yourself home and into bed, then.'

Cursing in a mixture of English and the few rather pungent curses in Welsh he'd picked up from Bronwyn and Daffyd, Charlie pulled himself to his feet, searching blearily for his shoes. He shoved his feet into his trainers, not bothering to tie the laces. 'Dad...?'

'Hmmmm?' Arthur was busily unpacking Ginny's breakfast.

Charlie swallowed. 'Tell Gin bye for me?' he requested, self-consciously.

Arthur looked up, bemused. 'You can tell her yourself,' he said mildly.

Charlie's mouth worked a few times, then he flushed. He didn't want to admit going into that room terrified him more than facing dragons by himself. Too many things could go wrong. But the sight of his sister, stubbornly keeping a solitary, weary vigil over the baby hit him in the pit of his stomach. And Charlie wasn't sure he'd be able to handle it if Albus stopped breathing again, like he had done last night. Reluctantly, he nodded, and shuffled across the hall, feeling like he had as a child and Arthur rebuked him in that same mild tone for letting the twins cut each other's hair. That tone, more than Molly's shouting, had always made Charlie feel as if a knife twisted in his gut.

*****

Shacklebolt opened the back door, leading three sleepy and very confused trainees into the kitchen. Harry was already sitting at the kitchen table, looking worse for wear, but somehow strangely alert. 'Thank you,' he said softly to Shacklebolt, who nodded and slipped out the back door again into the chill Inverness morning.

'You're here because we need you here,' Harry said simply, too tired to try and make any speeches. 'We need two people on every shift. You start tomorrow at six in the morning.' He flicked his wand at a stack of parchment on the counter. Thick packets, describing everything they had done for the past five weeks dropped in front of Lucy, Benjamin, and Eric. 'Read up on that. Any questions go to Bree or Iain if I'm not here. I'll be back here after six this evening, and get you caught up the rest of the way.'

'Sir?' Lucy tentatively paged through the rather frighteningly thick packet. 'Why us? We're just trainees.'

Harry snorted. 'And I never took N.E.W.T.s or went through the formal training program. Nobody's just a trainee to me.' His expression softened. 'You've been with this from the beginning back in January. I want you here.' Harry picked up a quill and made a few changes to the next day's schedule. 'Right now, I want you three to get settled and go through those packets before I come back later. Get as much rest as you can today. I can promise you that you will need it.' With that, he dismissed the three youngest trainees to the sitting room.

Harry went outside to stand next to Shacklebolt. 'You think I'm barmy, don't you?'

'A little,' Shacklebolt admitted. 'I would never have thought to put together a team of half-trained trainees.'

Harry gave Shacklebolt a sardonic snort in reply. 'That's the kind of thinking that nearly kept us from succeeding before.' He glanced at the ex-Auror and current Minister out of the corner of his eye. 'It took a group of underage, half-trained teenagers to stand up to Riddle to get anyone's attention.' Harry shook his head. 'I'd rather have them, than a whole regiment of fully-trained Aurors.'

Shacklebolt started a bit at the level of calm certainty in Harry's voice. But in hindsight, it was exactly as Harry had learned the job. Barely eighteen years old, with the status and responsibilities of a full Auror, he had been shoved into a void left even more gaping by the war, asked to do things far beyond the limit of ordinary human beings. Harry knew the rules backwards and forwards, but he held a certain amount of disregard for many of them, knowing them to be stagnant and out of touch with current reality.

Not for the first time, Shacklebolt wondered if his young friend had ever indeed been young.