Disclaimer: With humble gratitude to J. K. Rowling for allowing me to build castles in her sandbox once more.
Twenty-Four
Harry: Issues of Trust
With quiet dignity, Kingsley Shacklebolt deposited a small box on the low table before the sofa.
“If that’s a ring, I think you should know I’m involved with someone else,” Harry quipped.
Caught off guard, Kingsley hesitated briefly before answering, “Not the custom among wizards.” Then he added with a wink, “But I’ve yet to meet a witch who turned down a bit of jewelry from her young man.”
“Clearly, I’m out of my depth here,” Harry conceded.
“Can’t offer you much advice in that department,” Kingsley chuckled. “But I did want to discuss your future with my administration. Are you still interested in the Auror Department?”
“If they’ll have me,” Harry acknowledged. “I’m a bit shy on the NEWT requirements.”
Kingsley waved his dark hand to indicate that was but a minor detail. “We can delay your starting date if you prefer to finish your final year at Hogwarts.”
Harry shook his head glumly. “Frankly, I can’t see my fitting in with the students anymore.”
“Too many autograph hounds, I’d suspect.”
Harry smiled politely at the Minister’s breezy manner. “Too many memories,” he amended succinctly, not giving voice to the disquiet Neville’s description of the Dark Arts classroom/shrine had stirred in him. He certainly didn’t feel ready to face those framed tributes and medals on a daily basis. It was just one more reminder of how imperfect a victory they had won.
Kingsley casually crossed his legs, balancing one ankle across his knee. “Percy tells me you have concerns about some of the other members of my staff.”
“Minister, I wouldn't presume,” Harry demurred.
“It's Kingsley, just as it was when we were in the Order together. Formalities belong back in the halls of power and we're on holiday here.”
“Is that why you stopped by?” Harry dared. “To check out the accommodations?”
“With such a welcoming smile on Albus’ portrait, I wanted to be sure the Ministry was getting its money’s worth. Never had occasion to take a sabbatical here myself.”
“You could've sent a flunkie for that. Percy Weasley comes to mind.”
With his most disarming smile, Kingsley noted, “Do you really want Ginny’s unctuous brother looking over your shoulder? Besides, this is an issue of state, not a family matter.”
Harry lowered his gaze to mask his sudden embarrassment. Damn, if he still couldn’t get used to being treated as an adult.
“Truth be told, I was on my way to deliver a medal to Parvati's family,” Kingsley admitted candidly. “Not the most pleasant chore, but she deserves more than just a flunkie.”
“So you were in the neighborhood.”
“Something like that. I also wanted to give you an opportunity to ask whatever questions you will “ in private.”
“Are you always so accommodating with prospective employees?”
“With colleagues,” Kingsley emphasized.
“Can I offer you some refreshment then?” Recalling the bottles of Mythos which had lain fallow in the cold box after Ron’s visit, Harry suggested, “Some local ale perhaps?”
“Thank you, but no. I was only allowed to bring one bodyguard down to the villa and he’d never consent to leave his post.”
A quick peek out the veranda doors revealed a husky wizard dressed in a prosaic black suit. Despite the wind ruffling his hair, the man stared impassively past the sea cliffs.
Harry was about to mention that the bottles were individually sealed but the memory of Slughorn’s honey mead rose to the forefront of his mind. Instead, he noted with a sly grin, “There’s also a back door, you know.”
“The others can keep watch via Omnioculars from the main compound. It’s the best compromise they could wrangle. But, please, don’t let me keep you from your refreshment.”
“Thanks,” Harry acknowledged, taking a perfunctory sip of the pomegranate juice before him. “You don’t know what you’re missing, though. The food here is excellent. Lobster every day if you request it.”
Kingsley gave an indulgent chortle. “Is that what I’ll find when I review the account?”
Harry shook his head to the negative. “Hermione’s the one with a grand passion for shellfish. I prefer to be surprised with whatever’s on menu for the day. Gives me a better appreciation of the local foods. Other than the anchovies, everything’s been first-rate.”
“Shame I have to pass it up, then. I rather like anchovies, myself.”
“Have you considered that refusing the Patils’ hospitality might spark an international incident?”
“Already warned my able assistants to be prepared with the poison-detection charms. One of them will also have to take one for the team, as the expression goes.”
“Surely, you don’t think Pavarti’s family would attempt to poison you to avenge her death?”
Kingsley raised a finger to his lips as his dark eyes shone with merriment. “Don’t tell that to Hector. He’s always such an impassive statue that I can’t help rattling his chain. Where’s the fun in just telling him that I’m looking forward to some Indian home-cooking? He doesn’t know of my deep-seated love of spicy foods.”
Recalling that the Minister was likely on a tight agenda, Harry resigned himself to the Devil’s Snare he’d stirred up. “It's this Dawlish chap,” he began. “His answers are just too pat. Has a convenient excuse for everything. Sounds too much like those Death Eaters who claim they were Imperiused and are totally blameless.”
“You're recalling Dawlish was part of the squad who attempted to remove Dumbledore as Headmaster.”
“That's just one instance. I didn't get the impression he was on Dumbledore's side like you were.”
“That's because Dawlish was an old school chum of Cornelius Fudge. An allegiance that would’ve kept him from ever being approached to join the Order,” Kingsley provided.
“Now suddenly, he's on our side,” Harry argued. “Sounds too much like he's the sort to jump on the nearest bandwagon.”
“You forget I worked alongside the man for years. Sure, Dawlish has always been a bit brassbound in his methods, but I also know he’s capable of resisting all manner of Compulsion Spells. Try to Confund or Imperius him and he'll just shake it off like last week's jumper.”
“How can you know that?” Harry demanded. Then remembering that he was in fact having a casual chat with the Minister for Magic, he added, “If you don't mind me asking.”
Never deviating from his friendly tone, Kingsley explained, “Such training was mandatory when Alastor Moody was in charge of new Auror recruits. Surely, you don't think Barty Junior dreamed up that lesson on his own, do you? Dumbledore would've questioned it if such training wasn't part of Moody's unconventional techniques.”
“Why weren't the Death Eaters suspicious of Dawlish then?”
“Most by then were appointees from other areas. Thicknesse didn't require them to undergo rigorous training. What dark wizards were they going to catch? A butterfly net would've sufficed.”
“But Pius Thicknesse himself had risen through the ranks,” Harry countered.
“To use an expression I learned at the PM's office, he wasn't exactly the brightest bulb in the box.” Harry couldn't resist sniggering as Kingsley elaborated, “Shuffled off to administrative functions where his biggest risk was slicing his finger on a sheet of parchment. And his second-in-command stood ready with the healing spell. Even if Pius had been paying attention in training, he was surely under the thumb of Voldemort's inner circle. A long forgotten lesson wouldn’t have been at the forefront of his mind, even in those rare instances in which he was left to his own devices.”
“Is it your contention that Pius was nothing but a witless pawn?” Harry struggled with the concept.
“Witless? Absolutely. A pawn? Perhaps in the beginning. There was no doubt the man had little trouble siding with the Death Eaters once he tasted a bit of true power and prestige.”
“But Dawlish was somehow able to side-step temptation?”
“Not all men are motivated in the same way,” Kingsley asserted. “But it was John Dawlish who taught me how to detect those who were mere puppets by examining their eyes. Is it so difficult to believe he might be able to mimic that same expression in order to save his own sanity?”
“I won't deny that it's plausible, Minister, if you won't deny that it's bloody convenient. Dawlish keeps popping up all too often to my way of thinking.”
With utmost patience, Kingsley noted, “The same could be said of you, Harry. Not to mention Severus Snape.”
Harry shook his head at the enormity of it. “How can you even know whom to trust?”
“That's bound to be an issue, especially in a society that's been divided by what was essentially a civil war. Loyalties split many a family right down the middle. But I don't have to tell you that; your very own godson is a case in point. There's no doubt that Voldemort concentrated his manpower in the Magical Law Enforcement Department. Who better to enforce his twisted ideology? The entire Ministry has been a quagmire of doubt and duplicity, but at some point you have to let people prove themselves again.
His brown eyes bored into Harry’s. “Is my judgment infallible? Hell, no. But I can't very well purge the entire workforce and start anew, either. There aren't enough wizards in Britain to do that. That's why it's so important that you agree to come work with me, Harry. The loss of both Alastor and Nymphadora is a devastating blow to the Auror ranks. I need people whom I can trust as part of my team, now more than ever.”
“Too bad Legilimency is an invasion of privacy,” Harry observed.
“And illegal for that very same reason. But it's not as hopeless as it seems. There are endless stories of bravery within every layer of the bureaucracy. So much so, that I could issue a lifetime's worth of commendations without too much effort.
“Did you ever hear of a woman called Daynelis Coltrane? I didn't expect so; nobody outside the Ministry would know her. Worked all her life in the Births and Deaths Office; a thankless, boring job that she performed cheerfully until the day she retired. Granted, Nellie wasn't remotely ambitious. Nothing but a working stiff, as the expression goes. Forced to support first her alcoholic husband and then a daughter who spawned triplets without an eligible husband in sight. Nellie took it all in stride just as she saw that the documents detailing each wizard’s life were kept in order."
Kingsley paused briefly to make certain Harry was still listening intently before proceeding, “Now, Nellie was prone to daydreaming and she often got the files out of order. But everyone knew to look under the first name when the surname didn't bear fruit, and then the middle name as a last resort. Files never stayed misplaced for long. There she'd be filing away someone's OWL scores and that errant file she'd just been looking for last week would pop up.
“Sure, the woman could've been replaced with someone more efficient, but Nellie's true value was that her chirpy ineptitude drove one Dolores Umbridge to the edge of her sanity and back again.”
“Excuse me, Kingsley, but I found defaced dossiers in Umbridge's office when I was searching for the locket. Could those have come from Nellie's file room?”
“Likely so. Those Life Files, as they are known, are the most comprehensive account of a wizard's birth status. And consequently, essential to Madam Umbridge's role with the Muggle-born Registration Commission. As a matter of fact, the status of a witch or wizard could not be called into question without his or her Life File.
“Once Scrimgeour was deposed and I was recalled from my post with the Muggle Prime Minister, I became a huge fan of Nellie's incomparable technique. It was often the highlight of my day to categorize the color of Dolores' face as she returned from the file room.”
“She must've looked like a fleshy toad who'd swallowed a particularly rancid fly,” Harry laughed.
“And rightly so,” the Minister chuckled in return. “You see why Nellie was a treasure in her own right. Who wouldn't forgive her for misfiling Saddinger Bloom among the witches instead of the wizards? That name could fit either sex.
“As times turned darker and more dangerous, Nellie rekindled her old smoking habit just to calm her jangled nerves. Merlin, she wasn't the only one! Many arrived at work with whiskey breath or worse. Her fingers became yellowed with tobacco stains but still she persevered. Even though Umbridge's tirades became increasingly violent and demeaning, Nellie promised that the Life File would turn up sooner or later and she'd have it dispatched right to Madam Undersecretary's office. Dolores fumed in multi-colored hues, but finally stormed back to her plush office as she reworked her agenda for the next day's tribunal.
“Little by little, it came to light that some of the files were taking an inordinate amount of time to resurface. Dolores' solution was to rebuke poor Nellie in an even more heartless manner. Didn't she see that she was just sending the poor, rattled creature to smoke more and more cigarettes in the Ministry courtyard?
“At some point after I myself had to go into hiding, Dolores finally blew her last fuse and sacked Nellie under the guise of an early retirement. Granted, her final comments to the unfortunate woman were noted by co-workers to be, 'You're damned lucky the Ministry doesn't bill you for the hours we've spent trying to rectify your inability to master the sodding alphabet.'
“With Nellie out of her hair, one would think things would go more smoothly for Madam Umbridge, but it seemed that some records were determined to stay lost. Before long, she realized that most often those were files belonging to persons whom she knew to be Muggle-born. But without the Life File to document this, Dolores could not proceed to strip them of their rights to own a wand.”
“How did you come to learn all this?” Harry posed. “We already established Legilimency isn’t an option.”
Kingsley smiled at Harry's impatience. “I'm getting to that part. When I was appointed as Acting Minister, I discovered that Nellie was no longer a fixture in the Births and Deaths Office. Pulling her employment records -- which were filed just where they belonged -- I discovered that Dolores had assigned the hapless woman the most parsimonious pension on record. So I paid Nellie a visit in her shabby flat and she was most gracious in saying that she was so glad those despots were no longer in power. Then her next statement floored me.
“ ‘I s’pose ya've come ta arrest me then,’ she offered as she meekly held out her wrists to be bound.
“ ‘Now why would I want to do that?’ I countered, wondering if the added stress had finally been too much for her.
“ 'I resisted that vile...she-monster... and ‘er policies of ‘atred as best I could,' Nellie cried tearfully. 'Only it weren't strictly legal what I done.'
“ 'I doubt Umbridge's actions were either,' I soothed.
“To make a long story short, I managed to extract a statement from Daynelis Coltrane that day, although I had to drink a whole kettle of weak tea to do so. Turns out she'd been sabotaging Umbridge's efforts by rolling strips of the files in question into her cigarettes and then lighting them up in the Ministry courtyard. In plain sight of everyone, including the Toad Woman herself.”
Harry grinned and offered up a toast to Nellie's ingenuity. “So what did you do? Did you reinstate her?”
“Merlin, no! She really was the world’s worst file clerk. But she wasn't as stupid as Umbridge made her out to be, either. In the end, I gave her a generous pension in return for actions above and beyond her duties and let it go at that. Every time I think of Umbridge in a right rage, though, I wonder if I shouldn't have recommended poor Nellie for an Order of Merlin, after all.”
Harry joined in with the Minister’s wry chuckle before zeroing in on the glaring oversight, “So did all those Ministry pencil-pushers fail rudimentary charms? A simple Accio would’ve compensated for Nellie’s shortcomings.”
Kingsley gave him a reproachful look. “You didn’t really get a good look at those files in Umbridge’s office, did you? The leather covers are stitched specially from dragon’s hide, resists all manner of magic. Why spells bounce off them like they were trampolines. Can you imagine the utter chaos of folders whizzing through the air? Paper memos can be swatted away like insects, but a hefty portfolio could actually concuss the unwary. No, Life Files have to actually be signed out. It was one of the things that made Dolores so certain that Nellie was at fault, but she never guessed how truly crafty the woman turned out to be.”
“As inspiring as Nellie’s tale is, I can’t help noticing another wrinkle: how did Umbridge compile the list of Muggle-borns that was published in the Daily Prophet then? Many of my school chums were included, not to mention poor Ted Tonks.”
“The answer to that is contained within your question.” Kingsley gave him a challenging look.
“I’m hopeless at riddles,” Harry admitted.
“In other words, my Ravenclaw roots are evident. Without going into a long discourse on the Ministry’s record-keeping practices, let it suffice that there’s a certain redundancy built into the system. Copies of OWL and NEWT results can also be obtained from the particular examiner. As for birth records, there’s a magic quill that automatically records each witch or wizard born within our borders for admittance to Hogwarts.”
“Let me guess,” Harry mused as the building blocks of a much larger conspiracy jostled into place. “Those records are kept at the school.”
“Not that Hogwarts had ever sought to exclude Muggle-borns in the past,” Kingsley clarified.
“But they needed the data to send an envoy who would acquaint outsiders with the magical world,” Harry finished. Hagrid, in his case; and he recalled something about McGonagall having paid a discreet visit to the Grangers.
“The school Heads would’ve had access to those files.”
“You suppose that’s why Umbridge was so eager for Fudge to make her Dumbledore’s successor?” Harry pondered.
“That and sheer ego. But it wouldn’t surprise me if Madam Undersecretary was already laying the groundwork for her blood-status pogrom back then.”
“That implies that she was a Death Eater all along.” Not that such a thing was improbable in the least, he thought.
Kingsley shrugged. “Or just a pureblood elitist. Prejudice against Muggle-borns is nothing new, unfortunately. Dolores was just power-hungry enough to go after her goal with a vengeance.”
“But that means Umbridge could’ve created duplicate Life Files from the data at Hogwarts,” Harry argued.
Kingsley’s grin widened. “If only she still had access to it.”
Harry, too, felt his facial muscles curl with delight at the implications.
“I don’t expect Dolores would’ve received much cooperation from Headmaster Snape,” Kingsley sniggered. “I understand Severus was right put out when she inspected his classes as if he were a rank amateur instead of a renowned Potions Master. And that man always had a loooong memory.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t get to witness that confrontation.”
“You’re not alone, believe me.”
“Please forgive my bluntness, but I don’t see how this has any bearing on the issue of Dawlish,” Harry supplied.
“No need to apologize. Nellie’s tale is illustrative of the many unsung heroes who are scattered throughout the Ministry. Ordinary folk, who weren’t members of the Order, who didn’t even fathom such a secret organization existed. Yet they still felt they had to do something to resist “ even if it was just within their limited area of influence.”
“That’s how you’d categorize Dawlish’s actions?”
“Absolutely.” Taking in Harry’s skeptical look, Kingsley qualified, “What exactly is it about the man that so bothers you? Can you crystallize your doubts?”
Harry took a moment and then complied, “It’s the raid on the Longbottom house more than anything. I mean, hadn’t that family already been decimated enough by Death Eaters? Neville’s parents are mere shells of their former selves --”
“I’m aware of Alice’s and Frank’s current circumstances,” Kingsley interjected softly. “Neville’s not the only one who visits them. Don’t forget they were rising stars in the Auror Department at the time of their attack.”
“Did you work alongside them?”
“Sadly, no. That was before I was recruited; but their memory lives on, I assure you.”
“Then if that’s so, how can you condone Dawlish’s actions? To pick on a poor, old lady just because her grandson was causing a bit of a ruckus at school!”
Kingsley chortled deep in his throat. “Your loyalty is commendable, Harry, but Augusta Longbottom is hardly a defenseless old crone. She demonstrated that admirably. And as for Neville, he was staging a major revolt.”
“Something for which he should be applauded!”
“Doesn’t an Order of Merlin qualify?”
“Sorry. Forgot about that.”
“But that’s not to say I condone assaults on any citizens, regardless of their ability to defend themselves. But Dawlish --”
“”tells a different story, I know.”
“One which I think you’ll find compelling, especially since he admits that it was his idea to pay Mrs. Longbottom a visit. Unfortunately, this caught the imaginations of his thuggish co-workers and they decided that poor Augusta could be used to break Neville, as it were.”
Barely holding his outrage in check, Harry hissed, “Forgive me for being rude, but in my opinion, that makes Dawlish an accessory.”
“As Fate would have it, though, the ranks of the Death Eaters were spread pretty thin and an uprising of students at Hogwarts was not deemed to have a high priority. Secure in their control of Dawlish, they arrogantly sent him on his assignment alone.”
“Sounds like they didn’t value him enough to spare anyone to watch his back.”
“Perhaps. He certainly wasn’t one of their inner circle. A valuable tool, but expendable when it came down to it. That likely sums up Yaxley’s reasoning. Nevertheless, it was a boon for Dawlish who could warn Augusta of the impending danger and then find some way to justify her ‘escape’ to his superiors, all without making himself appear totally incompetent, that is.”
“Neville’s gran solved his problem, didn’t she?”
“Quite spectacularly. Sent him to St. Mungo’s with a number of cracked ribs and a dislocated shoulder, injuries which could not have been self-inflicted. The Healers reported that in his delirium, John was mumbling about sending a basket of flowers.”
“And that didn’t sound suspicious to Yaxley?”
“I doubt he was ever told. People mutter all sorts of gibberish when they’re overcome by pain. Likely, he would’ve thought Dawlish was simply envisioning his own funeral.”
“Why did they send another squad to finish the job then?” Harry pressed as he recalled Neville’s words.
“Standard procedure to investigate whether Dawlish was telling the truth. Their first inclination was to level the place entirely. Leave nothing but a chalk pit as they had done for countless others who defied them. But Dawlish convinced them to think in a long-range manner instead.”
“From St. Mungo’s? Didn’t know wizards used mobile phones.”
“Your methods would make Mad-Eye proud, Harry,” Kingsley noted dryly. “But you’re not giving the Death Eaters enough credit. They hauled John by the collar to the site to give a full accounting of his failure. They didn’t care that the poor man was practically blinded by pain. He needed to satisfy them before he was allowed to seek medical treatment.”
“That’s barbaric!”
“Then it shouldn’t surprise you. Somehow, John convinced them that Augusta was nothing but an addled old bird who only managed to get the best of him because of his own deplorable timing. Wove a tale of knocking on her front door while she was tending to her flower garden at the rear and she managed to creep ‘round and hit him in the back.”
Harry’s scowl deepened as Kingsley had just illustrated Dawlish’s ability to fabricate believable scenarios on the spot.
“John reminded them that Augusta didn’t have any relatives other than her grandson so where was she to hide? Such a lonely old witch was more likely to return to her home once she thought the coast was clear. But if they destroyed her house, they would also destroy their chance to lay a trap --”
“So Dawlish wanted someone to have a second go at Neville’s gran!” Harry fumed.
Kingsley shook his head gravely. “He knew she wouldn’t be as stupid as that, but the Death Eaters thought that any pureblood who wasn’t their avid supporter had to be mentally deficient. John was simply reinforcing their prejudices. In the end, they decided to rough up the house a bit so Augusta would assume that was the end of it. In the meanwhile, they’d send someone to keep watch for her return.”
Taking full advantage of his unprecedented access, Harry decried, “I don’t understand how these thugs setting a Tarantallegra jinx on the roof shingles and then using the house as bait accomplished anything beneficial to our side.”
Kingsley’s black eyebrows rose dramatically. “Don’t you? Dawlish saved the Longbottom house from certain demolition and then occupied one of the enemy in a useless task. One less Death Eater to worry about, I say.”
“Having seen these people at their worst, I’m not inclined to cut them any slack,” Harry maintained.
“Fair enough. Look, Harry, I’m fully aware of the creative excuses which Death Eaters employed in the past. It’s not my intent to absolve guilt quite so readily this time around. Those who have committed war crimes will be brought to trial. But at some point, you have to stop looking for enemies around every corner.”
“And you think I’m being too judgmental,” Harry surmised. “Are you rethinking whether you should recommend me to the Auror Office?”
Kingsley threw back his head and issued a hearty belly laugh. “Not at all,” he affirmed as he rose to his feet. “If anything, you’ve convinced me that you have the makings of an excellent Auror. If I promise you won’t have to report to Dawlish nor will he be involved in your training, will you in turn give the man a fair chance? Make up your own mind as you interact with him in person, that’s all I ask.”
Harry shook the Minister’s hand as he offered up an easy smile of his own. “That’s a workable compromise.”
“Then all my office needs from you is a starting date. I’ll also see what I can do about lining up some suitable tutors to prep you for your NEWT’s.”
Harry was caught short. “Plural?”
Kingsley issued his trademark laugh. “Only because you’ll want the very best in each subject.”
“Right,” Harry agreed as the Minister took his leave.
“I gave the Minister a glowing report of your progress, in case you were wondering,” Lexxie prodded.
Harry turned from where he’d been gazing off into space and gave her an apologetic half-smile. “He offered me a position with the Auror Department. Just like I always wanted.”
“It’s not everyone who’s interviewed for a Ministry post by the head man himself. Second thoughts?”
“Not really. Just uncertain how to proceed. Everything’s not so black and white anymore.”
“Ah. A symptom of the recent climate of distrust. You’ve steeled yourself to think of everyone as either friend or foe.”
“Doesn’t seem to be much of an issue with people I meet for the first time. Just those whose prior acts can’t be rationalized.”
“The past year hasn't exactly given you much opportunity to play well with others,” she sympathized in her inimitable way. "And your struggles were enough to rattle even the hardiest snake."
Harry laughed at the lame pun. “I suppose that’s accurate enough.”
“I’m certain you’re not alone. Sometimes learning to co-exist is more difficult than fighting. It’s the same for all conflicts “ not just out-and-out warfare like you experienced. Political adversaries or ex-spouses, it’s all the same. Learning to work side-by-side can be the most challenging thing of all.”
“Is there any other alternative? Other than relocating to the North Pole, that is?”
“A bit drastic,” Lexxie concurred.
“I was reminded of one of our fallen comrades,” Harry volunteered. “A prickly sort with a genuinely good spirit whose mantra was ‘constant vigilance.’ Kingsley pointed out that while the chap was paid to be suspicious, he still had to interact with his co-workers with some semblance of civility.”
“It’s a fact of life that co-workers are not like friends.”
“It wasn’t much different at school.”
She gave him a radiant smile. “Then just think back on those days before the war heated up and you’ll be fine.”
“Do you think I’m ready?”
“That’s for you to decide. Determination is as great a force as anything. Are you prepared to take charge of your own destiny?”
Now that evil wasn’t being washed up on his doorway constantly, Harry inwardly considered that perhaps he was.
Breaking into his thoughts, Lexxie put forth, “If I may offer an observation? Your Minister for Magic seems quite intent to recruit you. Yet you told me you’d resisted cooperating with previous governments.”
Once again, she’d pinpointed the crux of his ambivalence. Or was it? Aloud, Harry explained, “I don’t really doubt Kingsley’s agenda. He’s not looking to feather his cap by saying I stand behind his dubious actions.”
“You trust Kingsley, in other words.”
Harry nodded emphatically. “He demonstrates over and over that his true goal is to further the cause for all aspects of wizarding society.”
“Does this mesh with your own goals?”
“It’s fundamentally what I’ve been doing for the past seven years.”
Lexxie gave him a quizzical look. “Are you implying that you wish to move on to something else?”
Harry took a moment to consider her thought-provoking comment. “Not necessarily. I’m tired of constant fear and bloodshed and death. Solving problems by peaceful means will seem like a holiday.”
“Then I think you have your answer.”
“I already agreed to his proposal, I just wasn’t certain of a starting date.”
“Perhaps you should coordinate that with Ginny.”
“Where is Ginny, by the way?”
“Playing Quidditch with the local lads. I passed her on the path with her broom slung over her shoulder.”
Just then the back door rattled open and a radiant Ginny waltzed into the room. Her cheeks were dotted with red from the sharp winds at high altitude. “Thanks for the loan of the jumper, Lexxie,” she offered as she pulled a black sweatshirt over her wind-tossed hair. “You can feel the change of weather even if it hasn’t worked its way down to ground level yet.”
“Glad I was able to help,” Lexxie replied as she quickly rolled the thick fabric so that only the staff’s white logo was visible.
“I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” Ginny posed.
“We were just finishing up,” Lexxie returned as she got to her feet. “Just let me know, Harry.” She gave him a meaningful look as she let herself out the back door.
Ginny summoned chilled pumpkin juice from their cold cabinet. “Planning to overthrow Parliament?” she quipped then downed half the glass in a long swallow.
“Kingsley Shacklebolt stopped by for a visit.”
“I know, he waved to me from afar. Earned him a dark look from his bodyguards.” Examining the small box before them, she noted, “Nice trinket. Just like Mum’s.”
“He offered me a post in the Auror Department.”
“That’s wonderful, Harry!” Reading his non-committal expression, she hedged, “That is what you wanted, isn’t it?”
“Yes. It’s just that things are comfortable here. Between us, I mean.” Recognizing his misstep, he quickly amended, “Not dull, that is. Good, pleasant, exhilarating.”
She gave him a gentle kiss. “I knew what you meant. The green in your eyes was bright with promise, not dulled by rote.”
He smiled at how lucky, extraordinarily lucky, he was.
“Why wouldn’t things be comfortable elsewhere?” she crooned right below his ear.
“I can’t exactly see myself moving into your room at the Burrow,” he observed wryly.
“Not a good choice,” she agreed. “But the world’s full of other options. Won’t you want to be closer to your job?”
“No need, really. Not when I can Apparate back and forth in moments.”
“Are you planning to return to Hogwarts at mid-term then?”
He shook his head. “I know we always assumed we’d return together, but I don’t think I can. Too many memories would make those walls feel like I was imprisoned in the past. You’re not angry with me for changing my mind?”
“No, I just wanted to be with you. Mum was the one who assumed that meant returning to school.”
He chuckled at her deviousness.
“What will you do about your NEWT’s then?” she wondered.
“Kingsley suggested a tutor to work through a few subjects at a time. Says Hestia Jones would be ideal to prepare me for Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts -- areas in which I feel rather competent already.” Harry was relieved that Kingsley hadn’t questioned his pointed request to avoid male tutors. Without having to spell out his reasons, the Minister’s dark eyes had clouded over with empathy.
“Is it because Hestia’s already close by?”
“Only in part. She’s an absolute whiz with charms. Even Kingsley was impressed when I praised her for having shielded an entire island with the Fidelius Charm.”
“Didn’t she say it was just an overgrown rock?”
“It’s way beyond what anyone else has done. So she’s modest in the bargain. Kingsley thinks if I apply myself, I can sit the exams in those two subjects at the end of January.”
Ginny returned a look of surprise. “You’re only going to try for two NEWT’s?”
“ ‘Course not,” Harry clarified. “But with the general disruption, the examiners have agreed with McGonagall’s suggestion that each person be allowed to proceed at their own pace. Sitting for all exams at once is no longer mandatory.”
“That’s got to be a relief for those struggling thanks to sub-standard lessons from the past year. I’m speaking from experience here. Draconian methods do not encourage students to apply themselves. At least not to their lessons. I wonder if the examiners will allow those who wash out a second chance?”
“Thinking of yourself?”
“Hardly. Ron, more like! Maybe even George if he decides he wants to pursue a different career choice.”
“Enough about my activities,” Harry protested. “Tell me about your Quidditch match. You were practically glowing when you returned.”
“Lexxie arranged for an English lad to join us. Not quite Hogwarts age but he had all the moves down. Turns out his father’s a recruiter for the English and Irish Leagues.”
“Was the father there, too?”
“He’d have to be to keep an eye on his son; Lexxie was very insistent about that. Then she whispered in my ear that the boy’d been begging to play for days but your anonymity came first.”
“I thought you didn’t want word to leak out that you were skiving off with me.”
“It’s your face that’s recognized by wizards everywhere,” she pointed out. “Otherwise, I’m just another random family member much as this little dynamo was.”
“In Lexxie’s jumper, they likely pegged you as related to one of the staff.”
“Not too many Greeks with ginger hair,” she countered.
“The way their families spread, no one would question cousins who had intermarried across the continent.” It was just like Lexxie to take everyone’s needs into account. Even the few days’ advance notice of the Minister’s visit had allowed her to accommodate another guest’s request without compromising Harry’s privacy. “Did you manage to leave the eager lad in the dust?”
“If only,” Ginny sighed. “The Gnat, as he’d been dubbed by the local lads, flew this new broom. A prototype that hasn’t yet been adapted to adult frames. Ruddy thing’s quite ably called a Juggernaut.”
Harry crinkled his brow in thought. “Never heard of it.”
“Oh, you will,” Ginny insisted. “Turning radius is so tight that it’s difficult to tell when it’s spiraling or angling up. Makes for incredible maneuverability around the goal posts “ or tree branches in this case. The Gnat ran me ragged just keeping up. If he’d been more skillful at holding onto the ball, his team might’ve won!”
Harry made a mental note to ask Ron how the Juggernaut compared to the Zephyr which was already sweeping the professional Quidditch leagues. Based on Ginny’s observations, it might very well revolutionize the sport once it was revamped for adult players.