Restitution

"Restitution"

by Paracelsus

Chapter 8: Welcoming Committees

"Rather austere accommodations," decided Otimi, turning in place to survey Dr. Pohuhu's flat.

"She's a hospital intern, after all," Potter replied. "I'd imagine she doesn't spend a lot of time at home." Potter spoke in the brightly polite tones of someone who'd just had a major argument and didn't want outsiders to know.

Otimi wondered if the argument had been with the stunning wahine he'd brought with him. "My colleague Virginia," was how he'd introduced her. Such a useful word, 'colleague'... it could refer to a fellow Auror, a Dark Arts consultant, an apprentice or underling, a nursemaid, or a common-law wife with equal facility.

Having pronounced that Potter was to be "extended every courtesy," Otimi could hardly object when Potter chose to bring along this newcomer. She turned out to be an unobtrusive addition to their party, saying little but attentive to Potter's instructions. At his direction she was now searching through Pohuhu's toiletries, on the theory that she'd be more likely than a couple of males to spot something out-of-the-ordinary.

"Aparecium imago incantatem!" said Otimi, gesturing with his wand. A fine mist condensed in the room, hovered for a moment, then slowly dispersed. "No spell residuals at all, then. She's never done magic in these rooms."

"Tending to confirm her tale," commented Potter. "On the other hand, she's a suspect precisely because her form of magic leaves no traces."

"True. I'd forgotten." And I was wondering if you'd mention it if I didn't.

"Let's try another tack. Assuming your premise that the murders were for revenge... she couldn't have planned them in a vacuum, could she? She would've had to know the identities of her intended victims..." Potter considered for a moment, then used his own wand to write the words "Roark Haldane" in fiery letters floating in mid-air. With a flick of his wand and the command "Quaero!" he sent the words streaking through the flat - passing through furniture, books, papers on the desk, leaving no area untraversed.

"If those words are written down anywhere in these rooms, this Searching Spell will find them," Potter explained as the words left glowing trails in the air as they sped by.

"I haven't seen that spell before," said Otimi in approval. "Very nice." He used his own wand to write three names in the air - "The other three victims," he explained in passing - and sent them off with a "Quaero!" of his own.

"Wish I could claim credit for it," said Potter. "A couple of American Aurors - excuse me, P.A.s - taught me this one. They called it the Grep Charm... I could never get a good idea why."

Otimi watched the fiery words fly for a moment before commenting skeptically, "Of course, if we don't find anything, that only proves she never wrote down these names."

"But the longer we keep turning up nothing, the more believable her story becomes," put in the woman Virginia, emerging from the bedroom. "Nothing unusual in her kit, by the way."

"Thanks, Ginny," said Potter. He kept his eyes fixed on the glowing trails as they slowly faded. "Nope. Nowhere in this flat are those words recorded," he finally stated. He turned to Otimi and asked, "What else could we search for? Magical artifacts, daily journals...?"

"The only items that might be considered daily journals are Pohuhu's time sheets at the hospital," said Otimi. "We've already compared the gaps in her schedule to the times and dates of the first three murders... no matches. But again, that means nothing. She could have Apparated out of the hospital for a few minutes and none of her co-workers would've noticed."

"Can she Apparate?" asked Ginny.

"We've no way of telling. If she's hiding the skill from us, we'd never know, would we?"

"But if she can Apparate, where would she have learned it?" asked Potter. "Your own Ministry assumed she was a Squib until just last month. She didn't attend your school for witchcraft, and Apparition's hardly something she could've learned anywhere else." He spoke without heat, as though discussing an interesting word puzzle they'd seen in the newspaper.

"And even if there were someplace that teaches former Squibs to Apparate," he continued, "it's been, what, three weeks at most since she's gotten her powers? I'm not sure you can learn to Apparate in so short a time."

"It would be unusual, I grant you. But not impossible." Otimi felt himself trying harder to defend his case against Pohuhu. He now felt sure that Potter, despite his earlier protests, was trying to clear Pohuhu... but his mild tone made it almost impossible for Otimi to take offense. He had to admit that Potter had found a number of weak points that needed follow-up.

The discussion was interrupted by noises from outside the flat. Potter turned to Otimi. "Were we expecting visitors?"

Otimi shook his head. "Possibly some of Pohuhu's friends... in which case, they're almost certainly Muggles." As he spoke, he slipped his wand out of sight into its sleeve holster. Potter and his colleague were doing the same. "We're dressed as Muggles, fortunately, but let's not invite trouble. Maybe they aren't coming here..."

That hope was immediately dashed as they heard the sound of a key in the lock. The front door swung open... about a half-dozen people, all Maori at first glance, stood gathered outside the flat. "Who are you?" demanded the one with the door key, a large middle-aged woman with a deep voice.

"Inspector Otimi, Enzed Police," replied Otimi in official tones. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a wallet. Flipping it open, he displayed a very authentic-looking badge to the newcomers. He'd used this badge in the past when dealing with Muggles; it had always been effective.

It seemed to be effective now. The large woman relaxed slightly but remained suspicious. "Are you here to help find Margaret, then? Margaret Pohuhu? She's been missing since..."

"...yesterday evening, yes," finished Otimi. "Dr. Pohuhu's with us. She's isn't hurt, but she's currently being detained for questioning..."

"Knew it!" The shout came from one of the other newcomers, who shouldered his way to the front of the group. He was a younger man, mid-twenties by the look of him, and built like a wrestler. He had extensive moko or tattoo work on his face, in a pattern Otimi didn't recognize.

"What did I say, Hana?" he shot at the large woman as he confronted Otimi. "Wasn't I right? It wasn't enough to put pressure on us... now they've actually taken one of us away! What's next, then? Who's next?"

With all the authority he could muster, Otimi replied, "I don't know what you're talking about, but our investigation with Dr. Pohuhu has nothing to do with..."

"Don't know, eh? Maybe he can tell you!" The man whirled to face Potter. "What about it, pakeha? Was taking away the doctor your idea? Did you think that'd scare us into being quiet?"

Potter stood momentarily nonplussed. "I just arrived here this morning," he finally said in a quiet voice that almost purred. "Whatever grievances you might have, I have no part in them. Nor am I here to persecute Margaret Pohuhu - quite the contrary."

The man snorted derisively. "No, of course not. You only happened to show up here just when we're being leaned on, right? It's just coincidence you appear and she disappears? Don't think so, fishbelly." He angrily jabbed a finger into Potter's pale face. He outweighed Potter by at least twenty kilos, but Potter didn't back away.

"Yes, well... in this case, 'what you think' and 'reality' are two different things," Potter replied in that same gentle purr. "If you'll let me explain..."

With no warning, with astonishing speed, the man attacked. He raised a huge fist and swung a bone-crushing blow at Potter's face...

... and missed entirely.

He stumbled forward a step, recovered his balance, and quickly looked back over his shoulder. Potter was calmly standing there... he'd neither stepped back, nor ducked, nor made any motion. Enraged, the man pivoted and swung again, a more savage blow that might well have snapped Potter's neck had it connected.

It didn't connect. The man fell forward, landing on his hands and knees, as Potter watched with a faint smile. It was apparent to all in the room that Potter hadn't moved an inch. The man was simply swinging at air.

"Enough!" rapped a tart voice from the group at the door. "Kupe, are you here to help or not? Stand up, boy, and be quiet. Let me through, Hana..." The group at the door parted to allow a small, wizened old woman walk into the flat. She too had facial tattoos, though hers were only on her chin and lower lip. "If the police are here, we should hear their words before we..." Her voice dropped away as her eyes lighted on Potter.

Potter looked surprised to see the old woman. They regarded one another silently for a moment, while Otimi positioned himself closer to the young man Kupe, ready to intervene if he chose to renew the attack.

"Nana," Potter greeted her, and he actually bowed his head.

"You took your time getting here, boy," she replied waspishly.

"I couldn't have come faster."

She looked at him thoughtfully. "No," she conceded after a moment, "no, I don't suppose you could have." She walked over to him and gestured at the scar on his forehead. "I'm pleased to see you found yourself, tohunga. Did it hurt?"

"A little," he smiled. "Well, a lot actually..." He grew serious. "Nana, tell me what you know of Margaret."

"She didn't arrive last night for dinner," Nana explained. "She always comes on Thursdays to fix dinner for me. I could feel something was wrong. We checked the hospital, and no one had heard from her... we began to worry. Then this morning, just a while ago, Kupe suggested we look here," she gestured around the flat, "and we found you."

Potter nodded and waved the rest of Nana's group into the flat. He moved with confident ease, closing the door behind them, motioning for them to seat themselves. Otimi had himself taken a seat before he realized with a start that he was deferring to Potter.

"People have been murdered since I was last here, Nana," began Potter somberly. "We're afraid more will be killed unless we can discover why."

"We know of this," Nana nodded. "And others have been threatened... or felt threatened. Little things... suggestions for 'good' behaviour, and accidents happening to those who follow other paths. Hints of makutu if complaints were heard... little things, but many. You know what I speak of, tohunga."

Potter glanced at Otimi. "But nothing you could take to the police... yes, I understand. What are you doing about it?"

"Many are starting to grow fearful. Some like Kupe," she nodded at the large man who'd attacked Harry, sitting resentfully at the other end of the room, "feel we should band together and gather our strength."

"I agree." Potter smiled at everyone's show of surprise. "I agree with part of it, I should say. If you think you're being targeted, then yes... you must defend yourself - and one another." He watched Kupe as he continued, "But gathering your strength for protection doesn't require aggression. It requires looking out for one another. It requires... constant vigilance." His mouth quirked as he said the last words, as though at a private joke.

"For ourselves," continued Nana, "my students and I, we are learning to anticipate problems. We look for nettles, and we try to uproot them before they flower. We urge our families to be calm, to not panic. Like rocks in a storm, we sit strong... and we do not yield."

The woman Ginny leaned forward in her seat. "'Your students'? Are you teaching them...?" She paused, unsure how to ask the question. Then her hand casually slipped into her pocket and brought out the tip of her wand.

Smiles broke out among the group. "She's teaching us things," said Hana in her deep voice, "things Muggles would have a hard time learning." She brought her hand to her throat, where she wore a carved jade figurine on a slender thong. There was a general relaxation as everyone realized they were dealing with fellow members of the wizarding world.

"I think, Nana," said Potter after a moment, "I think these intrusions will grow. Someone's leaning on you, you say?" He looked at Kupe, who made no reply. "They won't stop if you ignore them. They'll only lean harder. It would be useful to know who's leaning. I assure you, it isn't me."

"We'd like to know that ourselves," commented another of the group. "No one can - or will - name names. Either they don't know, or they're afraid to say."

"But without names, we can't help. Please, Nana, work with them. Find out what you can about who's working this mischief, Nana," Potter requested. "We'll find out what we can to help Margaret. I'm staying at the Rose Cottage in Thorndon; please contact me if you hear anything. And all of you..."

He turned to address the other Maori. His voice took on a richer timbre as he told them, "I've dealt before with people who used fear to try to bend others to their will. They can never succeed unless we let them. Tell your friends, tell your families: if anyone seems to threaten you, stand fast. Stand together, resist - and let us help you. Will you do that?"

Otimi listened in amazement. The voice had changed only subtly - slightly richer, more intent though no louder - but it rang like a quiet clarion. It encouraged, it persuaded, it promised triumph at the end of the day. In addition to everything else, Potter was evidently an accomplished orator: he had this group of Pohuhu's friends hanging on his every word. Even Otimi, who prided himself on saying little and letting his deeds speak, found himself deeply moved.

Nana looked at her companions and seemed to gather consensus. "We will do that for you, tohunga," she told Potter, "on one condition." Her face split into a wide grin. "What is your name?"

Potter laughed heartily. He stood, leaned over Nana where she sat, and gave a hongi as easily as though he'd done it all his life. "Harry, Professor," he told her, still laughing. "My friends call me Harry."

*

After the group had left, Otimi decided to have a last look around Pohuhu's flat before Apparating back to the Ministry. Ginny watched him for a moment, staying out of his way. She'd been careful to stay out of the way all morning - not being an Auror or an Enforcer, she really had no business here - and it had been a bit of a strain to play the role of the quiet observer.

But it looked like Otimi was finishing up here, so she could relax and speak normally. "Who was that woman, Harry?" she asked.

"Everyone calls her Nana," Harry replied. "She's Dr. Pohuhu's grandmother. I met her when I was in hospital. She's... special."

"Yes, I'm sure she is... And you never told her your name? Shame on you."

"At the time, I didn't know it myself. I'd lost all my memories, you see..."

"Oh, that's right." Ginny smiled. "So what was she calling you, then... tohunga?"

Harry nodded. "It's the Maori word for 'wizard'."

"No," interjected Otimi. Ginny hadn't realized he'd been listening. "A Muggle might translate it that way. But in the wizarding world, we draw a distinction between wizards and tohunga. The words aren't interchangeable."

"Oh." Harry regarded Otimi curiously. "So what does it mean?"

"It means..." Otimi thought for a moment as he studied the papers on Dr. Pohuhu's desk. "It's... hard to translate." He fell silent, and Ginny wondered if he'd said all he intended. "Priest," he said eventually. "Scholar. Expert. Shaman. Adept." He shrugged slightly. "None of those are quite right, either - but tohunga doesn't mean simply 'wizard' in the way we use the word."

"Well, in any case, that's Nana's nickname for me," said Harry carelessly. "Obviously, I'm not a priest et cetera. It's our little joke, like when I called her 'Professor'."

Ginny saw Otimi raise an eyebrow at that. "She seems to be a kaumatua," he said slowly. "An elder, highly respected. I'd be surprised if the others didn't follow her lead."

"Let's hope they do," said Harry. "Maybe we'll learn more about these troubles they're having. Did anyone else notice a disturbing pattern there...?"

"Death Eaters," confirmed Ginny. "This was how they operated in the early days, when Voldemort was first gaining power. Coercion, threats... starting subtle, then less subtle, then turning into outright violence..."

"The technique's hardly original with Death Eaters. The Brown Shirts... the Black Hand... history is full of examples."

"If those people were Muggles, I could see them not reporting these incidents to the Ministry," Otimi commented. "They wouldn't be aware we existed. But if they're magical..."

"They still might not report it," Ginny said. "Nana's friends might be magical, but I'm willing to bet they aren't all fully part of the wizarding world. I know that at home, we have a fair number of barely-magical wizards." She was thinking of the adverts she'd seen for Kwikspell... and the conductor of the Knight Bus, whom she suspected was almost a Squib.

"Besides," she added, "if that thug Kupe'd had a wand, he probably would've used it on Harry."

*

Together, Harry and Ginny Apparated into the parlor of the Rose Cottage. Harry promptly flopped onto one of the overstuffed divans. "Man oh man," he said, rubbing his eyes, "has this been a full morning."

"Even for Famous Harry Potter?" joked Ginny, falling on the divan next to him.

"Please." Harry rolled his eyes. "Bad enough I get that from the Prophet. You, at least, know me better."

"Mmm." She regarded him for a moment. "I know the Harry Potter who comes alive when he's flying his Firebolt. I know the shy Harry who's petrified at the thought of asking a lady out to dinner. I've just seen Harry the Auror at work... and heard a new Harry, the silver-tongued one. I had no idea you could talk like that - a few words and you had those people's full support. How many Harrys are there, Harry?"

He smiled wryly. "Just one, honest. You're one of the few people who ever see the real Harry. Most of those other Harrys are only façades... like glamours without the magic. The Harry on the Firebolt is real... the Harry who's grateful for his friends is real..."

"And the Harry who treated those selfsame friends like dirt?" she reminded him.

He grimaced. "That Harry was forced on me by necessity."

"I know," Ginny said gently. "Sorry, I shouldn't have brought him up. You've already promised we won't see him any more... and if I've forgiven, I should forget, right?"

"Fresh start," he agreed. He yawned hugely and stood up. "I wonder where Ron and Hermione have gone," he said, and stepped to the front desk. "Mr. Li," he asked the landlord, "did our friends leave any messages for us?"

They had indeed left messages, one for each of them. Harry accepted them from Mr. Li with thanks, and handed over Ginny's message. "Mine's from Ron," he noted as he broke the seal on the roll of parchment.

Harry:

Hermione wants to visit the local wizarding school. It has a funny name, Maori I reckon, [here the lettering was carefully printed, as though Ron were copying words spelled aloud to him] Whare Wananga. It's like Hogwarts, we can't Apparate there, but Mrs. Li uses a Portkey and she's letting us borrow it for the day. She wrote a letter for us telling the librarians it's okay for us to be there. Don't know when we'll be back, it depends on how many books Hermione wants to go through. The girl's mental, I swear.

Mate, about this morning. I didn't mean for you to think I've been blabbing. I haven't, honest. But I told Hermione and Ginny about, you know, your dying (that is so weird to write). I told them before I promised you I wouldn't. Otherwise I wouldn't have. Told them, I mean. So we're good, right?

I don't know when you'll be back from doing your Auror stuff, but if you have a chance, could you see if there's a way to let Mum know we've arrived safely? I don't know if Floos work over long distance, and an owl would take too long, and Mum doesn't have a telephone, so I don't know how... but see what you can do, okay? Thanks.

-- Ron.

Harry finished the letter and rolled it up again for safekeeping. He looked up to see Ginny still reading her own letter - from Hermione, judging from the handwriting. Ginny gave Harry a quick glance, an odd expression in her eyes, and continued to read. When she was finally done, she seemed almost nervous as she re-rolled her own parchment.

"They've gone to visit New Zealand's school for witchcraft," she told Harry. "Lots of details, but that's the gist of my message. Yours?"

"Pretty much the same. Although it looks like I own Ron an apology for this morning..."

"Only Ron?" asked Ginny pointedly.

"...for assuming he couldn't keep confidences," Harry finished doggedly. "I take it he told you about my, um, my death experience?"

"Yeah... but without a lot of details. I think he was just trying to make me feel guilty." She gave him a quick grin that faded almost as soon as it appeared. She hesitated, as though wanting to ask but afraid of being too forward. "Harry... can you tell me? What's it like to be dead?"

"Peaceful," Harry said without thinking. He caught himself and quickly added, "So I'd assume, anyway. Remember, I woke up in hospital with my memories wiped. I don't remember any details about being dead. Now, if you'd asked me what it's like to die, that I can tell you."

After a moment, Ginny said, "All right, then. What's it like to die?"

"It hurts. A lot. I don't recommend it."

"Well, that should make the front page." Ginny slipped her parchment into her pocket. "Were you planning any more trips to the Ministry today?"

Harry shook his head. "No, not really. I'd like to go back to my room and nap... but I really should stay awake a little longer. If I fall asleep now, I'll never get used to the time change. And I'd rather not take a potion unless I have to."

"So we have to find something to occupy ourselves this afternoon." Ginny smiled. "We could wander the city, see the sights... maybe take in some shopping? There must be the Kiwi equivalent of Diagon Alley in Wellington."

*

As it turned out, Wellington did not have the Kiwi equivalent of Diagon Alley... that was up in Auckland, where they called it Chattel Lane. Ginny decided she didn't feel up to Apparating there, and convinced Harry they needed to wander through Muggle Wellington and take in the sights.

It was the best she could do on short notice.

A free afternoon with Harry Potter, she told herself, something half the witches in the world would give their eyeteeth for, and the best I have to suggest is window shopping. Gaaaaah. I must be seven kinds of idiot. Blast it, Hermione, this is all your fault. And ending your cheery little note with "Don't tell Harry about this"... at least I'm not that kind of idiot.

You and I are going to have a good long talk when you get back. Count on it.

At least Harry wasn't going through the usual male routine of checking his watch every two minutes, shifting his weight and sighing, and in general radiating an aura of martyred boredom. He seemed to genuinely enjoy the outing... or her company, perhaps, she wasn't sure which. Not that she was complaining, mind you.

"Oh, this looks interesting," she said, stopping in front of a crafts shop. On display in the window were a collection of various necklaces, intricately carved from bone, highly polished and hanging from cords. "I love the detail they can put into their carving."

Harry stood comfortably close to her and peered into the window. She liked how they could be perfectly at ease in each other's presence. That hadn't been the case before she'd left for Beauxbatons. Granted, nobody was putting elbows in butter dishes anymore, but there'd always been a certain... constraint. Now, though... now it was as if they were starting fresh, as Harry said. No preconceptions. She liked the idea.

"Let's go in," decided Harry, and they went into the shop. The clerks were delighted to show them several items, from small carved birds to large graceful "fish hooks". Ginny held up each one in turn, and Harry would tell her how nice it looked on her.

"Tell me, Harry," she finally said in amusement, "are there any of these you don't like? Or are you just being polite?"

"No, no, they all look nice," Harry assured her hastily. "On you, anyway." He pointed to one that seemed to be a small human figure, in the Maori style. "This is called a hei tiki, you said?" he asked the clerk.

"Yes, sir," the clerk replied. "This one is made of bone, but they're usually carved in greenstone. A few come in paua - that's the local abalone," she added, seeing Harry's inquiring expression. "Some believe hei tiki grant protection to the wearer."

Harry glanced at Ginny. "I'm tempted," he said lightly, but he put the necklace back on the counter. "Is there anything here that cries out to you, Gin?"

Ginny was likewise tempted - Harry was obviously ready to buy her anything in the store - but decided not to take unfair advantage of the moment. She was thoroughly enjoying the afternoon... she didn't need presents. "We can always come back," she told him. With thanks to the clerks, they made for the door.

Harry had opened the door and was about to step out into the street when he suddenly spun and tackled Ginny. They flew back into the shop and down onto the floor, just as a jet of light blasted the door. It exploded deafeningly into shards of wood and glass.

The clerks screamed as the debris fell. "Get down!" ordered Harry urgently, and the clerks dropped flat to the floor. Ginny had read adventure stories as a child, where the hero always seemed to have a "voice of command," but she'd never believed it until now.

He was already back on his feet, pulling Ginny erect. His wand was out and ready - she hadn't even seen him take it from its holster - and she hastened to follow suit. "Ginny, I'm going to Disillusion you," Harry said quickly. "When I do, stand over to one side of the door. I'll stay here and draw his fire. When he comes in, stun him."

"How did you know...?" Ginny had seen no warning of an attack, yet Harry had reacted instantly, getting them both out of the line of fire.

"Talk later!" He held his wand to her head, preparing to Disillusion her, but he had no chance.

Through the shattered door stepped a large man, stocky and pot-bellied, with an incongruously small wooden stick in his hand. Ginny tried in vain to memorize his face - then she realized he was disguised with a glamour. Identifying features were blurred, but the malicious grin - that came across clearly.

Harry stood between her and their assailant, wand in the attack posture. He'd positioned them so that the clerks, still screaming behind the counter, were out of the attacker's direct line of fire. For an instant, Ginny wondered why Harry didn't separate from her, so as to present multiple targets. But his reason was obvious, curse his Gryffindor chivalry. Dammit, she thought distractedly, I'm two inches taller than he is, why is he in front of me?

The pot-bellied man slashed viciously with his wand. A purple flame shot out, just as Harry cried "Protego!" with an expansive gesture that would shield them both. The curse didn't get through the shield, but it was still strong enough to stagger Harry backwards. Ginny caught him as he narrowly avoided tripping over her foot.

She thrust her wand around Harry and cried "Expelliarmus!" The man's wand didn't fly from his hand, but it was parried to one side - just enough for Harry to lunge with "Stupefy!" The spell hit the man squarely in his pot belly, and he went down heavily.

Harry waited a moment in a half-crouch, unmoving and wand ready, before stepping over to the assailant's body. He was feeling his left wrist as he walked, muttering, "Damn, damn, damn. Forgot it when you changed clothes, you moron... too much in a hurry this morning, but that's no excuse..."

Ginny began to move to comfort the still-screaming clerks, but Harry stopped her. "Ginny, the M.L.E. squad will be here any moment, and I want you out of here before they arrive."

"But I'm a witness..."

"They'll keep you for hours, answering questions and filling out paperwork. I need you to do something now. Will you? Please?"

She nodded quick assent, and he continued, "Thanks, Ginny. I want you to Apparate back to the Rose Cottage and go to my room. On my nightstand you'll find an amber bracelet..."

"An anti-Clairvoyancy ward? I've seen one before."

"Good. Get the bracelet and put it on. Then go find Ron and Hermione - get another Portkey to, uh, Whare Wananga, they're probably still there... if they've left the school, track them down... but find them and warn them. Then all of you stay together, either at the Cottage or at Whare Wananga, until we sort this out. All right?"

"Harry - I won't abandon you just to keep them from worrying..."

He cut her off. "Who was this guy's target?" She said nothing. "Right," he said, "I don't know either. If it was just me, they're probably safe. If it was any or all of us, they could still be in grave danger. They have to be warned. Go, Ginny." He gave a slight smile. "I'll wait for the M.L.E. squad. They'll take care of cleaning up the mess - Reparo, Obliviate, all the usual spells - but I want them to see exactly what happened first. God forbid I should be accused of tampering with a crime scene."

Despite her best efforts, Ginny could find no flaw in Harry's reasoning. "I hate it when you're right," she muttered.

"Pretend I'm Hermione." Harry made shooing motions with his hands. "Please be safe, Ginny. I'll meet you back at the Rose Cottage."

There was nothing for it. Ginny took in one last look at the wrecked shop and prepared to Apparate back to the B&B. So much for our peaceful afternoon. We've been in New Zealand less than eight hours, and already we've acquired mortal enemies.

*

He'd filled out forms in triplicate (a time-consuming process, seeing as the wizarding world still used quills and had never heard of carbon paper), answered questions, answered the same questions again, and was finally released. Now Harry stood in the observation cubicle with Otimi. Together they watched through the transparent wall as the pot-bellied man was questioned by an M.L.E. agent.

"Taine Umaga," said Otimi. "Thirty-four, currently unemployed. One arrest for public drunkenness two years ago, but no history of felony."

Harry looked carefully at the man, who so far had maintained a sullen silence. With the glamour removed, he could see the man was middle-aged, Maori, and heavily tattooed on the face. "Those tattoos..."

"Moko," supplied Otimi.

"Uh huh. Am I nuts, or have I seen that pattern before?"

"Good eye. Yes, you saw the same moko just this morning. Kupe Umaga, the rough who swung at you in Christchurch, is this puku's younger brother." Otimi watched for a moment as the agent shot another question at the prisoner and received more silence in return. "We'll hold him in cells for a while, then question him again tomorrow. Perhaps he'll be more talkative then."

Harry followed Otimi out of the observation niche and down a corridor. They paused at a door as Minister Tucker and Lucilla Fairbourn joined them. "We heard about the attack, Mr. Potter," said Tucker. "We wanted to make certain you were unharmed."

"As you see," said Otimi. He eyed Fairbourn for a moment. "Lucilla, the fewer who have a hand in this case, the better..."

"Roark Haldane wasn't just one of my people, Rewa. He was one of my friends," said Fairbourn. "I want to be kept abreast on what's being done to catch his killer."

Otimi shrugged and led them into the room. Inside was one of the M.L.E. agents who'd shown up at the crafts shop. He had the prisoner's effects laid out on a table.

"Money, wallet, keys, watch... nothing out of the ordinary, chief," said the agent. "Except for this, of course." He gestured at the wand. "I've never seen a wand like this one."

The wand was no more than six inches long. It was unlike any other wand Harry had ever seen: instead of a smoothly polished baton, this one was carved into the form of an animal... a lizard, Harry guessed. Its eye was a tiny green chip of a gemstone, barely larger than a pinhead.

"Are we sure this is a wand?" asked the Minister.

"He certainly tried to curse me with it," said Harry. "Purple-flame Curse, too, which is powerful stuff." He couldn't help recall his first encounter with that particular curse: in the Department of Mysteries six years ago, when Dolohov nearly killed Hermione using it.

"Yes, and that surprises me," said Otimi. "I've seen Umaga's transcripts, and while he wasn't the bottom of his class at Te Whare, he was close. He must have worked hard since then to acquire the magical power for a curse like that."

"Not to mention the Reductor Curse he used on the door," Harry reminded him. "More than enough power for an attempted murder. Latest in a series..."

Otimi snorted. "Are you suggesting what I think you are?"

"Either the attempt on me was related to the other murders, or it wasn't," Harry noted dispassionately. "If it wasn't, that means you've got two separate sets of magical murderers in a single month... which I think is some sort of record."

"But the attempt on you was nothing like the previous murders," argued Otimi. "Those used an inexplicable form of magic, and the bodies were found dead hours later. This was a recognizable curse carried out in front of witnesses."

"Muggle witnesses, at that. They probably wouldn't have survived, if he'd succeeded in killing me. This Umaga didn't care how many laws he broke... so what made him so desperate to get me?"

"You humiliated his brother Kupe. For some, that would be cause enough."

"Fine. Then how did he find me?"

"You told everyone where you were staying, remember? Kupe heard along with everyone else. He probably called Taine and told him... we do have telephones. Taine could have looked up the Rose Cottage's address in the phone directory."

"Except I wasn't attacked at the Rose Cottage. So did he look in the directory under S for 'shopping' or R for 'random'?" The mild tone he'd used earlier in the day was gone. Harry was tired, and the kid gloves were off.

Otimi didn't answer. Harry went on, "Whatever the reason the older Umaga came after me - it might have been Kupe, and I'm sure you'll be questioning him too - anyway, Umaga's magical abilities, as you've described them, don't square with the resources he'd need to track me down or press the attack as he did. That argues he had help. And if they wanted me dead so badly, they might not have had time to use whatever 'inexplicable' method was used in the other murders - which you admit were done when nobody was watching, so probably took a little time."

"And you're suggesting they'd go to such lengths merely to repay an insult?"

"That was your theory. My own theory is that they're trying to prevent me from investigating a case in which attention is currently drawn to someone other than themselves."

"Ahhhh." Otimi sounded vindicated. "So you finally admit you think Pohuhu's innocent."

"She's certainly innocent of the attack on me... I mean, come on, she was behind bars when it happened! And to restate my earlier point, it's easier to assume one set of magical murderers than two sets. Or three sets, by your logic."

"Come again?" interjected Tucker. "Three sets of murderers?"

Harry turned to her. "If we assume Dr. Pohuhu killed Haldane for revenge... that still leaves the attack on me, which she couldn't possibly have done... and the first three murders, to which she has no connection whatsoever. If the Umaga brothers are behind the attack on me as payback for this morning... the first murders still require a third set of murderers. Three sets of magical murderers, in less than a month. Quite the epidemic, wouldn't you say?"

Otimi looked like he was drinking vinegar... or worse. "But if we assume a single murderer, or rather a single set of murderers... and rule out Pohuhu since she couldn't have arranged the attack on you... then we have no motive for Haldane's death or that of the others. Plus we'd have to assume a new, unknown and untraceable method of killing, for which there's no evidence. And we have to assume several people working together... a secret murder conspiracy. That's as implausible as your scenario."

"Right." Harry closed his eyes and rubbed them wearily. He wished he could lecture Otimi about Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters... you want a secret murder conspiracy, friend? Let me tell you about the one that was after me... But that wouldn't help. He needed to stick to the current, relevant facts. "Tell me more about the first three victims," he said after a moment.

"None of them were Muggles, and that's about the only thing they had in common. Two men, one woman. Two pakeha, one Maori. One was a mid-level civil servant in the Ministry of Economic Development. One was a paid speaker for environmental awareness. And one was a librarian." Otimi smiled thinly. "I'll be glad to provide their files... if you can find a pattern there, you're doing better than anyone else."

"Thank you." Harry was a little surprised that Otimi was still being so cooperative, even while his case was being shredded. The man is doing his best to play fair, he thought with a twinge of guilt. I shouldn't be so hard on him.

"In the meantime," Harry continued, "do we agree that your current case against Dr. Pohuhu wouldn't last two minutes in court?"

"My current case? Yes," agreed Otimi. "But until I have a better suspect, I'm not inclined to release her. We won't permit bail for a capital charge."

Harry was about to launch another argument when Fairbourn interrupted, speaking for the first time. "May I offer a suggestion?" she asked. "You said when we first met Ms. Pohuhu that it was a good idea to keep her in a place she couldn't easily leave... but which wasn't necessarily gaol."

Otimi pondered. "Words to that effect," he said cautiously.

"And she wanted to visit Whare Wananga, to learn more about medical magic, did she not?"

"Ah, I see," nodded Minister Tucker. "She wouldn't be able to leave the school easily, would she? Even if she knows how to Apparate, she couldn't leave... I like the idea, Lucilla. Dr. Pohuhu can begin learning as she requested while staying in a secure location. Rewa, is it feasible?"

"Subject to the Headmaster's approval," said Otimi slowly, "I would raise no objections... so long as it's understood that she's to return here if new evidence against her is uncovered." He thought for a moment. "I'll arrange it tonight. And I'll send this along as well." He picked up the carved wand and looked at it closely. "The Headmaster's probably the best qualified person in the country to examine this and give us a report. And it'll be safe at Te Whare Wananga." He suddenly gave Harry a sharp look. "Does that satisfy you, tohunga?"

"Very much. I appreciate it," said Harry, smiling gratefully. He was too exhausted to notice the title Otimi had used.

*

Ron, Hermione and Ginny weren't at the Rose Cottage when Harry returned that evening. There was a brief message waiting for him at the front desk: We're fine, we're together, we'll be back tonight, what the hell is going on? No signature, but Harry knew Ron's handwriting too well.

He turned the slip of parchment over and wrote on the back: I'm fine too, I'll see you tomorrow, I'll explain everything then. He handed it back to the desk clerk and told him it was for Mr. Weasley.

Stumbling to his room, Harry managed to make it to his bed before weariness, jet lag and a busy day finally caught up with him. Without bothering to undress, or even remove his glasses or shoes, he flopped face-down onto the bed and fell immediately into sleep.

A blessedly dreamless sleep.