Losing Harry

Notes: written 4 Oct. 2008; Edited for errors/improvement 18 July 2009. Thanks to KLM for beta-ing this chapter.

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It was a cold autumn morning when Hermione received the call. Ginny was in hysterics and Hermione had no choice but to notify her office that she would be late, and go immediately over to number twelve, Grimmauld Place.

"I don't know what's going on, and I don't know what to do! I wasn't worried at first, but it's been too long, and when I sent word into his office and no one there could find him or had any news about him, well, I just knew something was up, and it's just like one of those hare-brained Harry schemes, and I don't know how you guys ever survived seven years with him like this at Hogwarts!"

Ginny didn't even pause for breath as she ranted, looking angry, distressed, and upset all at the same time. Her eyelashes were wet, evidence of recent tears, and her face was flushed and twisted with worry.

"Slow down, okay?" Hermione said in a soothing voice, grabbing Ginny by the shoulders. The redhead looked up and their eyes met. "Tell me what's happening."

"He's gone."

"What?" Hermione asked immediately. She frowned at Ginny and thought something must have been misunderstood. "What do you mean, 'gone'?"

"I mean that I don't know where he is, and he made sure I didn't know, or at least he didn't bother to clue me in. I'm his wife , Hermione! I just don't get it!"

Ginny was near tears again, and Hermione wanted to soothe her but was distracted by her own racing thoughts about Harry. She couldn't help being distinctly reminded of sixth year, when Harry had sometimes suddenly disappeared or acted suspiciously elusive.

"Okay, let's sit down, and you start from the beginning," Hermione instructed, guiding Ginny to the sitting room sofa.

What followed was a long and broken story about Harry not arriving home for dinner earlier in the week. Ginny had been a bit worried at first, but then had received an owl from his office, saying he would be working late. When Ginny woke the next morning and didn't find Harry at home, she thought she had smelled brewed coffee in the house, and had assumed Harry had come and gone all while she was asleep.

The thought had unsettled her, but the idea of Harry not coming home at all would have been much more difficult to cope with, she confessed to Hermione.

That evening, Ginny had received another owl, saying Harry had been asked away on a secret mission with the Aurors. It wasn't necessarily unusual, though normally Harry spoke to her himself in such a situation, rather than instructing his office to send her an owl. She assumed there must not have been time. Each following day there was another owl, each one just as nondescript and secretive as the previous one, and each one making her feel exponentially uncomfortable. That morning, after five days, Ginny had marched herself down to the Aurors' office, seeming to channel her mother, Mrs. Weasley, and demanded information about Harry.

The Auror Office informed her that Harry had requested to take some 'personal days' and they, in fact, had no idea where he was and had assumed he was at home. It didn't take long for Ginny to work out that Harry must have purposely arranged the owls to come each day, to keep Ginny from worrying or looking for him.

She confessed to Hermione that that was probably what was most hurtful.

The seeming pre-meditation.

Something was very wrong.

Hermione sat with Ginny for a long time, letting the redhead air out all of her frustration and confusion, but she was just as confused as Ginny, and she didn't know how to help. She didn't know anything about whatever it was Harry had decided to do. Part of her also worried that Harry hadn't gone of his own free will, considering his status and potential enemies as an Auror and as...well, The Harry Potter. She feared that something had gone terribly wrong.

On the other hand, she did know Harry, and the last few months of odd behavior had left her wondering what was going on with him; she berated herself now for not showing as much concern as she should have. Harry was the most effectual wizard she knew, perhaps even the most powerful, so she did have strong reason to doubt foul play, but working for the Ministry also left him susceptible to corruption from the inside. The owls from his office were indeed a curious idiosyncrasy. In short, there were any number of possible explanations, but no answers.

It was late in the afternoon when Hermione finally headed to her own office and decided to use the last few hours of the work day to see what information she could glean from Harry's latest assignments as well as anything his other co-workers knew about them. There had to be a clue somewhere, and Hermione was determined to find it.

As she set her mind to the task, she did have slight misgivings about the inappropriate and misplaced excitement that she was feeling. Harry was mysteriously gone and perhaps in trouble, and Ginny was hurting over it, but as Hermione planned her forms of attack and covert, wily tactics for obtaining information on Harry, she couldn't help feeling transported back to her Hogwarts years. From the day she had met Harry and Ron, her life had never been the same again. Adventure, trouble, and daring seemed to follow Harry everywhere, and to be close to him was to be close to those same quests and dangers. It had been years since she'd been involved in something challenging, or even troubling or scary, and part of her younger self seemed to jump to life at the thought of this new puzzle, this new adventure Harry was leading her on.

On the other hand, the mother in her worried, and she worked hard to keep her pessimistic fears pushed away. She didn't want to think of something terrible having happened to her best friend. She had to think of the puzzle, the maze, the key to the great lock that was Harry.

"I haven't seen him since he took his personal leave," Spencer Miles said, answering Hermione's question as she took a seat at Harry's desk, which was located in the same cubicle as his most recent partner.

Hermione had managed to make her way into the Aurors' Offices, flashing her security clearances along with a fierce determination that usually made her own coworkers tremble. It had taken years for her to learn that she could be intimidating if she wanted to be.

"Personal leave? Was there any reason why he would need to take one?" Hermione questioned.

"Not that I was aware of. I just assumed he was sick or someone had died, or maybe another kid, I don't know." Miles shrugged. He had an accent that Hermione couldn't place. She eyed him cautiously, finding herself wary of trusting him.

"And what kind of cases did you two work on recently, before Harry's recent absence?"

"Are you some kind of investigator?" Miles asked coolly, raising one eyebrow. "Should I get my boss and see what this is all about?"

"I'm a concerned friend, Mr Miles, and I suggest that you help me out by answering some questions. I assure you, I have full security clearance for anything you may choose to divulge to me."

Miles appeared to bristle, as though he were very much disinclined to continue with Hermione's interrogation.

"Look, love -" he began, brusquely.

"Your most recent cases?" Hermione interrupted, her voice snapping sharply as she shot a pointed look at the Auror.

Miles eyed her, his features schooled and emotionless. He looked across the room for a few seconds, and when his eyes finally returned to her, he pursed his lips and gave in, perhaps deciding that it would take less time and effort to simply answer her questions.

"We had some Dark magic troublemakers in Wales, an investigation of security breeches near Edinburgh, and we had to step in to handle some things with some unruly centaurs in the East..."

"And before all that?" Hermione prompted, committing the information to memory.

Miles paused again, closing his mouth and narrowing his eyes. Hermione tapped her fingers along the edge of Harry's desk, raised an eyebrow and waited. Finally, he spoke.

"If you really have the security clearance you claim to have, you can look up our case archives yourself. I have work to do, including plenty of work my partner left me for whatever joyride he's taken now."

Hermione glared at the man and proceeded to ignore him as she dug through Harry's desk. She had the sneaking suspicion that Miles was watching her like a hawk, barely holding his tongue from rebuking her for rifling through another person's personal belongings, but she was glad to find that he wasn't quite such a blockhead as to actually attempt to stop her.

And then, without really know what she was looking for, Hermione realized she had found it.

Potter,

About the matters which you asked me, I have found some information.

I'll be at your disposal as soon as you have leave to visit.

Hogwarts Headmistress,

Professor Minerva McGonagall

In a few blinks, the message had also been committed to memory. Nothing else in her search of Harry's desk turned up any helpful information, and checking the time, Hermione realized her work day was over and it was time to head home to continue her plotting. Before leaving the Ministry, she wrote an owl message of her own and sent it off into the darkening night sky.

That evening, before Ron arrived home from work, Hermione had a three-course meal cooked and an appointment at Hogwarts with Headmistress McGonagall the following morning.

..:..

"How can I help you, Mrs Weasley?" Minerva McGonagall asked as she welcomed Hermione into her office at Hogwarts.

Feeling it best to be direct, Hermione said, "I'm looking for Harry."

McGonagall blinked and stepped back from her former student, then recovered the misstep as she moved around her desk and they each took seats facing each other.

"Is he lost?" McGonagall inquired.

Hermione adjusted her position in the seat, calculating every word and tone both she and the Headmistress used. Her suspicion that Harry would remain hidden was increasing with each passing moment.

"He left."

"And you seem to think I know where he is?" McGonagall asked, conjuring teacups and motioning to the teapot behind her to offer it to Hermione. Hermione shook her head, declining the tea. This was not a social visit.

"I know you recently had communication with Harry concerning some kind of information, about which he did not speak with us."

"Us?"

"His friends. His family," Hermione supplied.

"My dear, if he didn't speak to you of it, surely you must assume he had reason, and that he didn't want you to know."

The old bat was as stern as ever.

"Or," Hermione countered, "something which he didn't think, at the time, was important enough to share, but certainly would have done so if given the chance. Perhaps some information you shared with him changed the nature of the situation, while something else prevented him from speaking of it to us."

McGonagall gave a slight tilt of her head. Student and professor were fading with time, morphing instead into two professionals. When the elder witch didn't respond, Hermione pressed on.

"When was the last time you saw or communicated with Harry?"

"Nearly a fortnight has passed since he visited me here. It was the last I heard from him."

"And what information did you have for him? Where do you suspect he's gone?"

"I would suspect he is doing something with the Aurors, for the Ministry," McGonagall answered, taking another sip of tea.

"That's what one would expect, except that it seems Harry has requested a leave of absence, and the Ministry doesn't know where he is either."

Hermione watched McGonagall's response carefully, registering a minute tightening in the muscles around her eyes, but the witch did well to give little else away of the affect of the news.

"Being among the last people to have spoken with Harry, and having given him some information concerning something of which none of his friends and family know, I want to ask you again: do you have any idea where Harry might be? Or where, if you had to guess, might you speculate him to be?" Hermione asked.

The older witched sipped more tea, and then her eyes moved away from Hermione, surveying the room and at last resting on the previous Headmasters' portraits - namely the last two headmasters that Hogwarts had had.

"I would expect Harry Potter to be exactly where he is meant to be."

Hermione's eyes narrowed, and she turned in her seat to view the previous Headmasters' likenesses. She scowled at them and turned on McGonagall.

"His life is not a game," Hermione breathed in a more threatening tone. "He's not a pawn to be moved around and used for one's own ends, not even for the entire Magical world's ends. He's a person, and this is his life."

McGongall gave away nothing as she took in Hermione's sudden change in tone. Instead, the older lady simply said, "My dear, you misunderstand me."

"Then make it clear," Hermione warned in a low-voiced demand. She held no reservations about threatening a former professor, whoever they were; not when it concerned Harry. She had been through entirely too much with Harry, perhaps causing her devotion to him to err on the side of excess.

"I believe he is where he wants to be. And where that is, I cannot say."

Hermione was able to get nothing more out of McGonagall, despite her questioning and change of tactics. If the old professor had a guess as to where Harry was, she wasn't prepared to share it, no matter what reasoning Hermione offered in persuasion.