When Ron arrived at The Burrow, Molly began fussing as usual, though Ron realised that all he wanted to do was see Rose. She was sleeping in her cot in the living room and as soon as he set eyes on his precious baby, he felt a weight lift from his heart. She was his life, his reason for living. She had been the only thing that stopped him simply submitting to his attackers that day. She needed him and no matter what he would be there for her.
She woke up and began sniffling, so he lifted her out of the cot and rocked her until she fell asleep again. Seeing her perfectly formed, beautiful face reminded him so much of Hermione. He felt a wave of sadness as he realised that this would be the only child they would ever have and that she would be forced to grow up without her mother.
He gently laid her in the cot and returned to the kitchen to find Harry sitting at the kitchen table.
“I was wondering if you want to come to the office with me. I think it’s time I laid out the finer details of the case to you and it’s best to do it there.”
“Right, yes, I think that would be good.”
Perhaps sensing his hesitation, Harry said quickly, “You don’t have to. It can wait.”
“No, I think you’re right. If I ever want to find out who killed Hermione, I need to face up to the facts of the case.”
“Maybe you should rest for a while?” suggested Molly.
“I’d rather go now. Every time I try to rest, all I can think about is Hermione and I end up feeling less rested than before. I need to keep busy, mum. It’s the only way I can deal with it.”
“I can understand that,” Molly replied. “When Fred died, it was all I could do to get from one day to the next. It will get easier, Ron, eventually.”
Ron gave his mum a quick kiss and then followed Harry to the fireplace so they could Floo to the Ministry.
When they arrived, they headed straight to the lift, Ron trying to forget how he had felt the last time he was here. They were both silent, unable to think of a thing to say. The lift stopped with a chime when they reached the right floor and Ron followed Harry through the familiar maze of corridors and desks to his office. His eyes glanced instinctively to his own desk; someone had clearly taken over his duties as the `in` tray, which had been overflowing when he left, was almost empty. He turned his head away and concentrated on guiding his feet in the right direction.
As they approached the office, Harry silently cast an unlocking charm and the two entered. Ron had been in this room many times and he was familiar with the set up. One wall was completely empty, and was used by Harry to create a bigger picture of a case. There was a large desk in the centre, almost all of which was covered in paper, and filing cabinets lined one of the remaining walls.
Looking at the case wall today, Ron saw that it had clearly been in use the last time Harry was in the office. There were several photographs and bits of parchment pinned up. Harry took a quick look and then waved his wand over the display. Several things rearranged themselves and two new pictures appeared. Ron was startled to realise that one was Hermione, and the other was the woman he had seen earlier that day.
“Are these all the victims?” he asked, staring at the pictures. There were at least twenty.
“Not all of them “ some are suspects. There have been eighteen murders so far.” He waved his wand again and some of the pictures glowed. “All pure-bloods except for two: Hermione and our unnamed Muggle. That’s what makes the last two murders so confusing. They seem to have completely changed their target.”
“And all these people died in the same way?”
“Yes, all showed the same injuries but had the final blow given by the killing curse.”
Ron walked up to some of the photos and studied them. They had all been taken at the scene of the crime and showed the victim’s injuries in full detail. He felt an overwhelming sadness come over him. All these people were dead; they had all left behind families to mourn for them. They were all put through terrible pain before their killers finally delivered the curse against which there was no defence.
“I thought this was supposed to stop,” he said at last. “I thought this is why we fought all those years ago, to stop more people dying, and now it seems that it’s made no difference. This shouldn’t have happened.”
“I agree, Ron, but we are working to make sure we stop this now, before anyone else gets hurt.”
“So, who are the people you have in custody then? Who are the people responsible for this?”
Harry waved his wand again and three other pictures began to glow.
“Stewart Ackerley, Owen Cauldwell and Eleanor Branstone,” Harry rattled off. “All Muggle-borns. They all attended Hogwarts “ they were sorted in our fourth year “ a Ravenclaw and two Hufflepuffs. Didn’t stand out particularly at school. They obtained reasonable marks and seem to have been relatively popular. However, during the war they developed a deep sense of resentment against pure-bloods, for the reasons you might expect. None of them were allowed to attend Hogwarts during the year of the war. Branstone and Ackerley registered with the Muggle-born registration committee and spent most of the year in Azkaban. Cauldwell’s mother refused to open the door to the Death-eaters and so they blew up the house, killing her and her husband, as well as Owen’s sister. Owen, himself was in hiding at this point but after learning of the deaths of his family attempted to get revenge and was very nearly killed himself. He was then thrown in to Azkaban along with his former classmates and it seems that it is there that the three of them began to form their ideas.
All three of them suffered greatly, it can’t be denied, but they got it in to their heads that because Muggle-borns were treated so badly by Voldemort’s regime, they should be given extra rights at the end of the war. However the Ministry instead focused on equality, making sure that no one was favoured by the new reforms. Not satisfied with this, the trio seem to have taken matters in to their own hands, punishing the people they see as being responsible for their hardships “ the pure-bloods. Needless to say that not all the witches and wizards they have murdered were involved in the war but them it’s one and the same.”
“So, how have you tracked them down? Are all three in custody?”
“No, we have Ackerley and Cauldwell but Branstone is still eluding us.”
“How do you know she’s involved? In fact, come to think of it how did you track any of them down?”
“We started using Muggle techniques which they hadn’t banked on. We found traces of DNA at the scene of one of the murders and we were able to trace them to the two boys. We obtained a warrant for their wands and after tracking them down, we were able to discover that the wands had been used to cast the killing curse. We arrested them and have had them in custody ever since.
We discovered Branstone’s involvement through several letters found when searching the boys’ apartment but clearly by this point she had already caught wind of the arrest we had made and has gone in to hiding. The break-in at Gringotts has shown she is clearly a very powerful witch. We’re doing our best to track her down, but it seems she’s continuing to put their plans in to actions with a group of followers.”
“Do you have any idea who these followers are?”
“We don’t have any firm ideas at the moment but we’re assuming that they’re Muggle-borns, possibly ones who were treated equally badly during the war or ended up in Azkaban.”
“I want to see them,” said Ron suddenly.
“What?”
“I want to see them, to talk to them. I’m an Auror, it’s perfectly within the rules for me to interview them.”
“It’s not when you’re personally involved in the case.”
“Not directly “ these two aren’t the ones that killed Hermione and we have no evidence that they are linked to her. I just want to talk to them. I won’t let them think they can get away with this.”
“But, Ron, as far as we know the plan to murder Hermione happened after they’d been arrested “ they probably don’t know anything about it.”
“I don’t care; I want to see them.”
“Fi-“ Harry began, but was suddenly interrupted by a loud knock at the door.
“Yes?” he called out. The door opened and another Auror entered.
“Sir, you said you wish to be informed of any further developments, and well, there’s been another death.”
“The same as the others?”
“No, not exactly.” The Auror handed him a file. Harry took one glance and then said,
“Right, let’s go. Ron?” He looked at his friend.
“Yes I’m coming, let me see the address.”
“No, I’ll take you; you’re still not strong enough to Apparate.” He turned back to the Auror, “Assemble a team to join us there.” Then he strode from the room leaving Ron to follow.
“Harry,” he called as he followed him to the lifts. “What exactly is going on? Who’s been killed?”
“No one,” replied Harry shortly. “It’s a suicide. I don’t know who.”
The lift journey passed in silence and as soon as they had reached a safe place, Harry grabbed Ron’s arm and they Apparated.
They arrived outside a small, dingy looking house, which clearly had not been lived in for a long time. The white paint on the fence was peeling, the garden was overgrown and at least two of the windows had been boarded up.
“A Muggle heard noise coming from inside but she knew no one has been living here in at least a year so she contacted the Muggle Police. They found a wand in the house and alerted us. We’ve asked them to leave the scene exactly as they found it. Shall we?”
He pushed open the creaky wooden gate and went up the path. The front door had obviously once been a bright red but now it was faded and dull. Harry pushed it and it opened easily.
Ron was shocked as he looked around. It was hard to believe that there was ever anyone living here. The floors had been stripped to the bare floorboards and paper was peeling from the walls and ceiling, so much so that at some points he could see the bricks. He felt a prickle of unease at the back of his neck and withdrew his wand. Beside him, Harry did the same.
They made their way cautiously down the hallway, peering in to the rooms on either side of them as they went. Harry took a door on the left while Ron tentatively pushed open the one of his right. It took him only a fraction of a second to register his surroundings. The room was just as dingy as the rest of the house, though the windows were at least whole. The most distinguished feature however was the woman hanging from the ceiling, a rope around her neck.
“Harry,” he called out, unable to take his eyes of the body, which was swaying gently, no doubt disturbed by his entry in to the room. “Come here.”
He heard footsteps and then Harry entered the room behind him and swore loudly.
“Disturbing isn’t it?” said Ron.
“It’s not that,” said Harry. “This is Eleanor Branstone. It looks like we’ve found our missing suspect and she’s no longer in any position to answer our questions.”
Ron started to reply but couldn’t stop focusing on the body.
“Maybe we should take her down,” he suggested.
“We can’t; we have to wait until the team have taken records of the scene.
“Well then, can we go somewhere else?”
“Sure, outside?”
Ron nodded and followed Harry back out in to the front garden. The team of Aurors had just Apparated in to the street and Harry went over and had a quick word with them before sending them in to the house.
“Right, what were you going to say before?” he asked when he returned.
“I was just wondering, why would she do this? Everything was going her way. She managed to hide herself completely while still carrying out their plans. Why would she choose now to end it all?”
Harry was frowning. “I just don’t know. This has raised so many questions. I think you were right. I think it’s time to talk to Ackerley and Cauldwell.
If we tell them about this, it might make them break their silence. Are you ready to go back to the Ministry?”
“Yes, though I suppose you’re going to assist on side-along again?”
“Of course.” Harry took his arm and span deliberately on the spot. Their surroundings reformed as the Ministry of Magic and they headed over to the lift.
“Are they being kept in the dungeon cells?” Ron asked, surprised. “I thought they would have been moved to Azkaban by now.”
“We can’t. The imprisonment reforms passed last month mean only criminals who have actually had a trial and been convicted can be sent to Azkaban, in order to prevent unfair imprisonments. The Ministry’s cells aren’t ideal but it’s all we can do.”
“I see; are they being held together?”
No, separately. I was going to suggest interviewing them together though?”
“That’s fine, as long as we don’t give them time alone.”
The pair reached the dungeons and went through the windy corridor to the cells. The guards on the door checked their id and then led them to an interview room, before leaving to get the prisoners. When they arrived they were sat in two chairs and immediately magic chains bound them in place.
As soon as they were bound, Cauldwell began to speak. “How long do you intend to keep us here? This is an invasion of our rights.”
When Harry replied, he spoke calmly, “You have already been informed that you can request legal representation at any time. We have received a court order from the Wizengamot to hold you here until the date of your trial, as you pose a high risk of failing to return when summoned. But that is not the reason we are here.”
“What do you want then?” sneered Cauldwell. Ackerley remained silent.
“We thought you would like to know that Eleanor Branstone is dead.”
Ackerley paled visibly at this and sat up as if to speak, but Cauldwell interrupted.
“And why would we care about that?”
“I believe the three of you were friends.”
“Not particularly.” Cauldwell sounded completely disinterested, but it was Ackerley that Ron watched. He was looking almost ill and fidgeting against the chains.
“Well, I found that surprising when you were in the same house at Hogwarts, not to mention the fact that you shared an Azkaban cell for almost a year.”
“We were little more than casual acquaintances. I don’t know why you thought otherwise.”
“Look, Cauldwell, we’re not going to take any more messing around from you. We have enough evidence to put you in Azkaban for a very long time and this time, you’ll deserve everything you get.”
Cauldwell spat at him. “You’re scum “ all of you. We suffered like hell during the war no one did anything about it.”
Harry stood up, his calmness gone, his face an angry red.
“How dare you! Do you even know who I am? Do you know what I and countless others did to stop Voldemort? Did you know that at least three of the Pure-bloods you murdered were active members of the light side during the war?”
There was silence.
“Guards,” shouted Harry and the guard who had been standing outside entered the room. “You can return them to their cells. This was clearly a waste of time.”
“Wait,” interrupted Ron. “Leave Ackerley.”
Harry gave him a curious look but nodded his consent and the guard unchained Cauldwell and gripped his arm firmly. The young prisoner turned and glared at his companion. “Say nothing,” he hissed.
As soon as the door had been closed, Harry sat back down, but Ron gestured for him not to speak. Instead, he began to talk, his voice quiet and gentle.
“You were close to Eleanor, weren’t you?” The man said nothing, instead glancing to the door.
“It’s alright, you don’t have to worry. No one else will know what we talk about. Now, tell me about Eleanor.”
“There’s nothing to say,” Ackerley muttered.
“Please, Stewart. She’s dead “ don’t you want to bring the people responsible to justice? If she was really your friend, if you really cared for her, then you would talk to us.”
Ackerley’s head fell to his chest.
“Fine,” he said, his voice so quiet it could be barely be heard. “I’ll tell you, but only for her, only because of Eleanor.”
“Thank you,” said Ron. “Your help means a lot to us.”
And so Ackerley began to talk.
“You have to understand,” he started, “how hard it was for us. I know you went through a tough time but what we experienced was hell. When I heard of the Muggle-born Registration Committee, I was naïve. I had no reason not to register. But as soon as I arrived at the Ministry my wand was taken from and snapped in front of me. I was told that I illegally obtained my magic and they demanded to know where it came from. When I tried to say that I had been born with it, I was accused of being a liar and sent to Azkaban without anything remotely representing a trial. You were seventeen in that year of the war weren’t you?”
Ron nodded.
“I was thirteen. I was about to start my fourth year of Hogwarts and instead I was sent to prison.”
He shivered a little. “It was like hell. I was taken to a cell, in which there were about ten Muggle-borns. It was there that I met Eleanor. I had known her a little at Hogwarts but she was in a different house which meant we never had much to do with each other. But in that prison, she was the only thing that kept me going.
We were not the youngest there, far from it. There were children of eleven who had received their Hogwarts letters and then just a month later been told they had obtained magic illegally. Each day we huddled on the stone floor of our cell, desperately hoping that today wouldn’t be the day that a Dementor entered our cell and dragged us out to meet our deaths. Every day you could hear the screams echoing the prison as the Dementors chose the next victim to have their soul taken away from them. Every day they patrolled outside the cell, sucking the happiness from our minds.
I was so sure that I was going to die. I could no longer remember a time when I had ever been happy. I began to believe the things they had told me. I believed I had no right to be a wizard.
Eleanor and I would talk. We would spend hours every day just talking to get rid of the feelings of despair. We learnt everything about each other. I told her how I had never fit in anywhere until I discovered magic. She told me how she was the top of her class in Ravenclaw and how much she loved everything she had learnt. We knew almost everything to know about each other.
I don’t know how long we had been there when Owen arrived. He was in a terrible state; worse than those of us who had already been there for months. Eleanor and I took him in to our corner. He told us of what they had done to his family, of the devastation he found when he returned to his house. It was as if all the life had gone from him. The Dementors couldn’t touch him because there was almost nothing left of him to touch and what he did have was so consumed by thoughts of revenge that it could not be taken away from him.”
Ackerley paused for a moment and Ron took the chance to step in.
“I understand how tough it must have been for you. But we won, you survived, you got out. Why would you risk all of that? Because you must have known that eventually you would be caught.”
“Do you know how long it took for us to be released at the end of the war?”
Ron shook his head.
“A month. For a month we could hear the shouts of victory. We watched as the same people that had imprisoned us were themselves imprisoned and every day we assumed they would simply open the door and let us out. But no one came, and we waited and waited, the Dementors still there, still gradually taking any of our remaining hope. Then suddenly one day, we were free. There was no apology, no real explanation. We were just told that an administrative error had delayed our release. We had been kept in that hell because of an administrative error.” His tone was incredulous.
“As we left the prison we were given money “ enough to purchase a new wand and a set of robes. Then we were expected to leave. Being out in the real world again was terrifying. We had no idea of the date, of what had happened while we had been locked away. All we were told was that it was over. When we finally did discover how long we had been imprisoned we realised all three of us had missed our birthdays. We had all turned fourteen in Azkaban.”
“Where did you go?”
“As far as we knew, Eleanor and I still had families. Owen didn’t and so he came with us. We went to see her parents first and then mine. When my mother opened the door to find me there, she burst in to tears. I felt nothing. I couldn’t feel anything. It was impossible to think that I would ever feel anything again.
That evening, the three of us went to see Owen’s family. We had agreed when we were imprisoned, that if we were ever released we would stick together, and that meant being Owen’s support when he visited his parent’s graves for the first time.
It was dark by the time we reached the grave yard. We found the graves and for a while the three of us just stood in silence, each waiting to feel something.
As we left, we noticed someone else in the graveyard, standing in the shadows just beyond the gate. He was still a boy, a few years older than us. He told us that he knew how much we had suffered and that he, and others, wanted to make right the injustices suffered by Muggle-borns. He wanted us to join them; he said it was our chance for revenge.”
“What did you say?”
“No. Eleanor and I, we didn’t want it, not then, and Owen, yes it was something he would have wanted once but by then he had lost the energy to care. We were only fourteen; we weren’t ready then.”
“So, when did you become ready?”
“Last year, eight years after the war ended. We found him this time and we offered to do whatever he asked. He didn’t hesitate to accept.”
Ron took a deep breath. Suddenly he felt closer than ever to understanding who was truly behind Hermione’s death.
“Who was it?” he asked quietly. “Who is in charge?”
“Terry Boot.”
“No!” interrupted Harry and Ron felt a wave of shock pass over him.
“Are you sure?” he asked urgently.
“Yes. Eleanor had known him from Hogwarts and Owen and I recognised him a bit.”
“So, what did he ask you to do?”
“He said he wanted to take revenge on the people that had caused him and all the other Muggle-borns so much pain.”
At this point, Harry suddenly stood up. “Will you be OK here?” he asked Ron. Ron nodded and Harry strode from the room leaving Ron and Stewart alone.
“So, tell me,” said Ron. “Why did you only decide you wanted revenge eight years after the war was over?”
“Because nothing got better for us. After the war, we returned to Hogwarts and we finished our education, but everything was so hard. Being in that place almost killed us. We could feel nothing. And still there were people who looked down on us, who made snide remarks about our inability. I just got so tired. I got sick of trying to fit in and so I decided I’d had enough. No one made it easy for us to get ahead. I would go for job interviews and be rejected even when I was the only candidate. Things were supposed to get better for Muggle-borns but it was still just as hard as it ever had been.”
“But things did get better. What about my wife? She was able to get a job in the ministry.”
“Your wife is known as one of the saviours of the wizarding world.”
“No, she was known as one of the saviours of the wizarding world.”
“What do you mean?”
“My wife was murdered two days ago. She was cut until she almost bled to death and then she was finished off using the killing curse.”
Something in Ackerley’s eyes suddenly showed recognition and Ron saw that there was fear in his eyes. He realised with a start that he was scared of him, of what he might do.
“I had no idea. We couldn’t have done. We’ve been here.”
“I know, but now do you see why I have to understand. In the same way that you want justice for Eleanor, I want justice for Hermione.”
“There is not much more I can tell you. For a while Eleanor and I spoke about dropping out of the magical world completely. We imagined living our lives together as Muggles. It all seemed so simple. It was so natural that we would be together.”
“Did you love her?”
“I don’t know. It’s hard to imagine love after you have spent a year being gradually starved of imagine. I cared for her and I think she cared for me. I could certainly never have imagined doing anything in my life without her.”
“So, why didn’t you follow your plan?”
“Owen. He had always wanted revenge for his family and he persuaded us that it was our right to get back at those people who had led to our misery. So we contacted Terry and he took us in to hiding with him.”
“What was your role in the murders?”
“We used the killing curse. I never saw Terry use magic. He would always be there though. He would cut them using a knife. It always made me feel ill to watch. Eleanor hated it. She never wanted to be there.”
“So, how were you able to use the killing curse when the thought of cutting them made you feel ill?”
“I always wondered that. We had been told it required hate to cast the curse but I never felt hate towards my victims. I think that usually by the time we cast the final curse, they had bled so much that it would be impossible to save them. You could see their pain. Ending it quickly was almost the kind thing to do.”
“Did Terry ever explain the cuts?”
“No, we never spoke very much. I think it was to do with Harry Potter. He really hated him, though we never understood why. We never knew anything about him in fact. He never said what had happened to his family, or him, during the war. He just expected us to do what he said.”
The door opened suddenly and Harry returned. “I need to talk to you.” he said to Ron.
“Fine, just one more minute.”
Harry left the room.
“Thank you for telling us all of this. It means so much to me.”
“Do you think I could go to Eleanor’s funeral?”
“I don’t know. This isn’t strictly speaking my case, but I will try for you.”
“Thank you.”
At Ron’s signal the guard who had been waiting outside returned to the room and took Ackerley back to his cell, leaving Ron to talk to Harry.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“We have nothing on Terry Boot, absolutely nothing. None of our files make any reference to him or his family and what happened to them during the war. Have you managed to get anything?”
“No, it seems he kept very much to himself. The only thing he said was that he seemed to hate you.”
“But he supported me. He was in DA; he helped us fight. I don’t understand.”
“Harry, I was thinking we could go to Hogwarts. If anyone knows what happened to Terry, it will be McGonagall.”
“Perhaps you’re right. But are you sure you want to go there? It might be hard for you.”
“I think I’ll be fine. I’ll go and send an owl to McGonagall asking if we can visit tomorrow morning. It’s probably a bit late now.”
“Fine, are you staying at The Burrow this evening?”
“I think so. You’d better be getting back to Ginny. I’ll use the Floo.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course; I’ll see you tomorrow.”
The men parted and Ron went to send his owl before returning to The Burrow.
The Journey to Understanding by coolh5000
Chapter Endnotes: I hope you liked this chapter - I would love it if you were to let me know with a review :)