Note: this scene takes place in April of last year, following Harry’s run-in with Mira’s gentleman caller at the Ministry. Sorry for super long delay!Blaise Zabini had been freed from the MLE holding cells less than twenty-four hours after he’d been put into them. His barrister had worked quickly, as Harry’d assumed he would. Bail wasn’t a problem ( Read more... )

Ginny had never been to this part of the Ministry, and she hoped after this day that she’d never see its walls again. Her jaw tightened as she clipped steadily down the hall and toward her final destination, paper clutched in her fist. It had been a long night and she wouldn’t have been able to find sleep even if she’d been looking for it. At first ( Read more... )

Harry apparated into Hogsmeade, immediately assaulted by the murmur of activity. It was the middle of the day in the Scottish village, which meant the streets were buzzing with lunchtime errands and people enjoying the break from the work day. Snow lined the sidewalks and hung precariously from rooftops. In the distance, he could make out the ( Read more... )

Harry stared at Zabini Manor with a frown on his face, arms crossed over his chest. He could feel the hum of the wards a few inches in front of him, strong and powerful. The wardbreakers the Ministry employed were good, but even they would have trouble with something this elaborate. He knew most of the older pureblood families utilized overly ( Read more... )

Even for Diagon Alley, it was cold. Breath fanned in front of people’s faces as they hurried down the street in search of their destinations and a relief from the chill that could dig right to your very soul. Down a side street, however, things grew darker and, impossibly, even more cold.

Knockturn Alley had always been the home of the unsavory ( Read more... )

Harry’s favorite time of the day was lunchtime. It was, usually, the only time that the whole of the office was quiet. Aaron had taken the hour off to have lunch with a friend in Diagon. There were no meetings, no floo calls, no howlers.

QuietOf course, this was the only time that Harry had to catch up on all the paperwork that’d been building up ( Read more... )

He had tried to give it as much time as he could, but after Ginny’s owl confirming that the ‘allergic reactions’ she’d seen at her clinics were related to muggleborn or half-bloods, he had no other choice. Harry needed to see Pansy and, more importantly, the journals her father had kept chronicling his sordid and disgusting life ( Read more... )

Aaron waved Mira into Harry’s office with his customary enigmatic smile - a smile which occasionally irked Mira. She didn’t know what that smile meant. It was as if he seemed to know something that she didn’t, and it ofttimes drove her batty. Not that she could do much about it. It wasn’t as if one could just outright ask why a person was ( Read more... )

It wasn’t very often that Ginny visited the Ministry. Her father worked there, as did her brother, Harry, and several friends, but she didn’t particularly enjoy walking down these halls. Not since her fourth year, anyway. That night, fighting with her friends against Death Eaters, had soured her to the marble-lined hallways and stuffy attitude ( Read more... )

[Was supposed to go up late last night.]

Hadrian Parkinson’s old office was a disaster. Piles of books sat on the floor instead of their homes in the wood paneled, shelf-lined walls, and parchments, files and journals were strewn everywhere.

Pansy had unearthed every possible record she could find - the obvious, and the magically hidden. There were ( Read more... )