The Set-Up (3/4) - a gift for serpentsortiam
Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling and Warner Bros. All fics posted at this community were written entirely for fun, not for profit, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Title: The Set-Up (3/4)
Author: flaminia_x
Gift for: serpentsortiam
Rating: Hard R (or light NC-17) for sexual situations and foul language
Word Count: c. 19,125(!!!)
Pairing: Harry/Tonks
Warnings: Character deaths (not main characters), angst, drama, suspense. Mentions of masturbation. Ridiculously tiny mention of voyeurism - seriously, you'll probably miss it.
Summary: Harry is asked to investigate a series of suspicious attacks, but soon the suspicion is turned toward Harry himself. Can he clear his name?
A/N: AU, post-war, Harry's POV (1st person narrative). To serpentsortiam - thank you so much for such clear prompting and some great ideas. I had to be a bit flexible on the definition of “7th Wonder of the World” given that the only one still in existence is the Great Pyramid at Gaza, so I used the lists of later wonders for inspiration. I also had to tweak the very last bit of the prompt to make it fit with the style, so I hope that's ok! It's my very first Harry-Tonks fic, as well as my first attempt at a film noir-esque writing style, so I do hope you enjoy it!
Chapter 10:
We popped in to see Tonks, but she was thankfully asleep. Her face was a mess of cuts and bruises, though, and an egg-sized lump was clearly visible on her left temple. Whoever attacked her had been brutal.
Outside for a quick smoke, I turned to Ron. “The thing I don't understand is how she escaped. She's got no cuts or scrapes or torn fingernails to suggest she fought back, so it doesn't make sense for her to have gotten away from her attacker and have escaped through the Floo.”
“Yeah, I thought about that too,” he answered thoughtfully. “I'm wondering if maybe the attacker hit her so hard that instead of waking up, she became unconscious, and then when she woke up and realized what had happened, she left then?”
“But is that likely? With injuries like that, to have been unconscious only for such a short time, and then wake up mobile?” I asked.
“Not sure, but we can check with the Mediwizards,” he said.
We trudged back inside and met with Dr. Lovelace, the Mediwizard overseeing Tonks. “Dr. Lovelace, we were wondering if you'd be able to tell us anything you think that could help us understand how Tonks got here,” Ron asked.
“All we know is that she Flooed here under her own power, severely beaten and barely conscious. She was able to tell us she was attacked while she was asleep, then she called out the name of her son and a Harry, before falling unconscious,” Dr. Lovelace answered.
“That corroborates what we know, but sir, what we don't understand is what could possibly explain how she got away. Is it possible that the attacker thought she was dead and escaped, only for her to wake up and Floo here?” I pressed.
“It's certainly possible,” the man said. “Or perhaps she knew her attacker, and so she wasn't immediately afraid of him. I'm terribly sorry, I'm late for rounds. If you'll excuse me?”
After he walked away, Ron and I exchanged dark glances, knowing instantly what each other was thinking. This information certainly wouldn't make me look better in Robards's eyes.
“Harry, you know I have to tell him,” Ron said quietly, his eyes holding mine.
“Yeah,” I said, nodding. “I know. You're just doing your job.”
Ron exhaled. “Look, if you need anything … maybe you should take a leave of absence, just for a little while. I know you, you've got tons of vacation days stored up.”
“I can't go anywhere - not unless this whole thing is solved,” I spat.
“Not saying to take a holiday, Harry, just to lay low for a while, stay out of Robards' way. I'm sure he doesn't really think it's you, but you know these sorts of things have to be handled properly unless we want the bastard doing this to walk on a technicality,” Ron said.
“No, that we don't,” I said mechanically. “Fine. I'll go back with you and get some stuff from my office.”
I talked to Robards briefly. I thought he seemed relieved to have me gone for a while, and to be honest, I was too. I could do better work if I wasn't under constant supervision. Grabbing a small box, I hastily threw papers and files into it - anything that I thought was related to Tonks's case, Teddy, or the Malfoys. Everything else could bloody well wait. Shrinking it down and putting it in the pocket of my robes, I stopped quickly by Ron's office to tell him I was on official leave. He nodded, lips tightening, and promised to keep me informed. Thank Merlin for small favors.
Once home, though, I sank onto the couch, mind whirling. There was too much information in my head, and none of it pointing me in the right direction. But I swore to myself that leave or no leave, I wouldn't rest until I knew what was going on.
Three days passed by, three days of constant cigarettes and little bathing, of eating cold leftovers from dinners past and half a bottle of Firewhisky, and of absolutely no new ideas. Tonks wasn't awake enough yet to talk, and frankly, I wasn't sure how she'd react to me being there. The box from my office sat untouched in the pocket of the robes that I hadn't bothered to hang up. And so I sat, and kindled a fire in the evenings only to watch it burn to ashes, and then I'd start it all over again.
But on the fourth morning, I woke up a little more clear-headed. Stretching and yawning, I rubbed my eyes blearily and wondered when I'd last showered - a real shower, and not a quick Cleansing charm - or even brushed my teeth. I trudged upstairs and tried to relax under the warm stream of water, and donning fresh clothes. The downstairs was a mess. Not for the first time, I thanked Molly Weasley silently for her knowledge of household charms, and set the place to rights with a few muttered words. Today was Halloween, and it was time to get back to work.
I unearthed the tiny box of papers from my office and took it to my desk. Wand at the ready, I sent papers flying. In one corner went all the files from the Malfoy case, in another everything related to Teddy, and in the center, all the information I had on Tonks. Fixing myself a strong pot of tea, I took it and some reheated sausages back to the library, resolving to read everything over yet again. Maybe there was some small detail I had missed. Unlikely, given that I practically had everything memorized, but worth a shot.
Morning turned into afternoon, and afternoon turned into night, and I had taken breaks only to grab another greasy carton of Chinese takeaway and for a quick piss or three. Still, nothing was coming to mind. Nothing seemed new, nothing was showing any promise. Frustrated, I kicked the box that I had brought with me from the office, and jumped out of my skin when it rattled.
That's funny, I thought to myself. I thought all I had grabbed were my papers … I bent down and righted the box, startled to see a Muggle pen fall out. Must have been one of those pens Ron and I were using when we were in France investigating Draco's death. I grabbed it to throw it up onto my desk, but with a sickening swirl, I was yanked into myself.
Chapter 11:
I landed on cold, wet grass under a cloudy and starless sky. My heart raced, and I was almost sick, coughing raggedly into the ground beneath my head as I struggled to my knees. I hated Portkeys. Always had, ever since the Triwizard Tournament. My hand brushed against rough-hewn stone, and I grasped it, trying to right myself. I shook my head, begging my eyes to hurry up and adjust to the darkness around me. I smelled earth, felt the cold mist, but sensed no one around. Slowly, my eyes became accustomed to the lack of light, and I stood with my back to the stone, trying to figure out where I was.
“What the bloody hell is going on?” I muttered to myself sotto voce. Thank Merlin I had kept my wand tucked into my trousers. Standing still, I listened carefully. After five minutes had gone by without a single sound, I whispered Lumos and shone the soft light around me. I was surrounded by large, ancient boulders, some standing upright, others long since toppled over. Someone had Portkeyed me directly into the center of Stonehenge.
“Fuck me sideways,” I whispered, noticing something ahead. Was it a person, or another boulder? I inched forward, hesitant not to have the cold comfort of the stone guarding my back. As I approached, I realized it was, in fact, a person, but a very still, silent one. One leg was bent at an awkward angle, and its hands were bound above its head, which lolled backward in a parody of sleep. Whoever this one was, he or she wasn't with us any longer.
I shone the light around me, checking for attackers, and only when I was convinced I was alone with the body did I shine my wand down toward it. A silver knife protruded from the man's chest, a still-warm trickle of blood pooling around it. I moved the wand closer to the man's face.
“Shite. Shite, shite, bloody shite, shite on a cracker,” I said over and over again, my voice growing recklessly louder. It was Remus Lupin, and he was lying dead at my feet. I couldn't help myself. I've seen plenty of bodies, including too many of my loved ones, but … I turned and vomited loudly into the grass, retching until I thought I might have tasted the soles of my shoes. Wiping my face on my sleeve, I turned back.
“I'm sorry, Remus. I've got to go for help, I need to alert the … the authorities,” I said lamely to his body, aware that there wasn't anything I could do to help. Turning away, I raised my wand to send a Patronus to Ron. But before I could, I heard three distinct pops from outside the ring of stones. I raised my wand and backed up against the slab that held Remus's body. I may not have been able to protect him, but I'd be damned if I'd let anyone do anything else to him. My knees hit the back of the slab and I stumbled, my other hand flying backward to steady myself. It hit the knife, cocking it to one side, and I ended up with one hand pressed to Remus's motionless chest.
“Who's there?” I rasped.
“Harry?” I heard Ron's voice calling as if from a hundred kilometres away.
“Ron! Ron, in here,” I called back.
Ron walked into the center of the circle of stones, wand raised. He was followed by Robards and White. “Harry, what's going on - oh, Merlin, Harry, is that Remus?” he gasped.
“Ron, you've got to believe me,” I said. “Someone planted a Portkey in my office, and when I touched it, I ended up here. I found him here - he's dead. There was nothing I could do,” I finished, feeling more pitiful than I had in years.
“You found him like this?” Ron asked, motioning to Remus's body. “He was bound and - stabbed?”
“Yeah, just like this,” I hastened to explain. “I landed over there, by that stone -” I gestured with my wand, noticing that Robards and White gripped their own wands more tightly when I did so. “I waited for a few minutes, trying to see in the dark, trying to listen for anyone around me, but there wasn't any. When I lit my wand, I saw him. He was tied up, and the knife was in his chest. He was already dead.”
“White, check it out,” Robards motioned the other Auror over toward the body. “Potter. You say that someone planted a Portkey in your office?”
“They must have done, sir,” I said. “I emptied out the box of papers that I brought home from the office today, and I got frustrated, and I kicked it, and out fell this pen, and when I touched it, I wound up here.” I knew I was babbling, but I just had to get it all out. I had to make sure Ron believed me.
“Robards, he's definitely dead,” White called. “There's a silver knife in his chest. From the looks of things, he couldn't have been dead longer than half an hour at most. He's still warm, sir.”
“Take him in,” Robards said, gesturing at me.
My eyes widened. “Sir - sir! You can't think that I did this. Remus is - was - my friend! I told you what happened. Ron! You believe me, don't you?” I stared at my best friend, trying to find solace in his eyes. But he wouldn't look at me. I might as well have been stabbed with that knife too, for all the pain I was in. But I had no choice. I had to go in. Tears of impotent rage and hurt leaked from the corners of my eyes, but I presented my wrists to White, who magically handcuffed me.
“Ron, please ...” I whispered. Silently, Ron took one arm, White the other, and a minute later, we were in Robards' office.
Robards himself joined us twenty minutes later, having escorted Remus's corpse to St. Mungo's Morgue. Ron and White hadn't left my side, but try as I might, I couldn't get Ron to look at me. I kicked my heels annoyingly in an aimless pattern against the leg of my chair, wiggling my fingers to keep some feeling in them.
“Alright, Potter, you've got some serious explaining to do,” Robards said in a tone of voice I'd only heard him use on hardened criminals.
“I have nothing to explain. I've already told you exactly what happened,” I said, looking him straight in the eye.
“No, you've told me your version of how things happened, and I must admit, Potter, there are gaping holes in your story,” he snapped. “You can't honestly expect me to believe that days ago, someone mysterious snuck into the middle of the Auror Department, planted a Portkey in your office that you only just discovered tonight, and whisked you off to Stonehenge, alerting us just in time to find you standing over the still warm corpse of Remus Lupin, the ex-husband of your current … flame, and the father of your poisoned godson, a knife with your fingerprints on it buried to the hilt in his chest?”
My mouth dropped. Merlin's bollocks on a cracker, it sounded ludicrous, but the sad thing is, it was the truth. “I - yes, sir, I do expect you to believe that, because that's exactly what happened.” Some secret part of me was very proud that my voice didn't shake when I answered him.
Robards gaped at me. “You've got some bollocks on you, Potter,” he sneered. “We've searched your house. We found the pen you claim is a Portkey, but again, it only has your fingerprints on it. Harcourt touched it, and yet he's standing outside this door, not in the middle of bloody Stonehenge.”
“But that would make sense,” I interjected. “Portkeys stop working after one use, so of course he's here and not there.”
“That doesn't explain how your fingerprints ended up on the knife in Lupin's chest, does it?” Robards thundered down at me.
“When I heard you three Apparate in, I couldn't see you. I backed up against the slab, but I lost my balance, and when I reached back to steady myself, I grabbed the knife by accident. It's coincidence!” I rebutted.
“Coincidence, just like your fingerprints are the only other ones on the letter Tonks got under her door?” Robards countered.
“Yes. Exactly like that!” I said, steaming.
“Then how do you explain this letter?” Robards said, shoving a piece of parchment across his desk at me.
Chapter 12:
Hunching forward, I read: “Auror Robards - I'm afraid for my life. Potter's been threatening me to stay away from Teddy. He said if I came near my son, he'd kill me. Please help me. Remus Lupin”
“That's - that's ridiculous,” I spluttered. “I've never threatened Remus a day in my life. I didn't even know he'd been to see Teddy!”
“How did you know he'd gone to see Teddy?” Robards quickly asked.
“I didn't! I just said that!” I groaned. “If he had, I would have been thrilled. I may not spend much time with him anymore but I know he loves his son.”
“Potter, Remus went to see Teddy today, just hours before you supposedly found him dead,” Robards stated.
“And you think I killed him because of it?” I asked incredulously.
“Did you?”
“Absolutely not!” I seethed. “And that doesn't explain how you found me at Stonehenge anyway.”
“Any Auror that's under suspicion of anything criminal has a tracking spell put on them the minute they leave this building,” Robards growled. “If they leave their home, we know about it, and if they go more than a few kilometres in any direction, or show up in any suspicious locations, we follow them. Pure luck on our part that you didn't remember that, eh, Potter?”
“Sod off, Robards!” I spat. “I didn't kill him. I didn't attack Tonks, I didn't poison Teddy. They're my family, you bloody bastard! I've got no reason to hurt any of them.”
“That's enough, Harry,” I heard Ron say, his hand on my shoulder.
But Robards stepped in front of me swiftly. “Oh, yes, you do, don't you, Harry?”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“You've got the greatest motive of all - greed,” Robards stated softly.
“Greed? Greed for what?”
“Come on, Potter, don't play dumb with me. You know and I know that if Tonks and Teddy Lupin were to die, you'd be the sole inheritor of the Black family fortune,” Robards whispered. Ron's head jerked up, and he stared at Robards through narrowed eyes.
I was dumbstruck. I had no idea what the man was on about. “What family fortune?” I asked.
He laughed, a soft, cold laugh with no humour in it whatsoever. “Come off it, Potter. Teddy's currently the only one that can inherit the fortune, as the last surviving member of the house of Black through his grandmother, Andromeda. Draco Malfoy's son Scorpius would have been first in line, but once the rest of that branch of the family passes away, Teddy would inherit everything. But if there's no Teddy, and no Tonks, and no Remus, then you, as Teddy's godfather and Sirius's godson, are the last tenuous link to that fortune.”
I had absolutely nothing to say. My mind whirled frantically, trying to digest this information. My mouth worked, opening and closing without a sound.
Robards laughed again. “Got you in one, Potter.” Standing up, he turned to Ron and White. “Lock him up, lads. Lock him up.” And without another glance, he turned and walked out of the room, whistling tunelessly.
I walked blankly between Ron and White down to the holding cells, where I was shut in with a thin blanket and a jug of water. White began to walk away. “Coming, Weasley?” he called.
“Yeah, gimme a mo', will you?” Ron responded. He turned and looked down at me, a woeful look on his face.
“Oh, Ron, please, don't believe him,” I pleaded, grasping the bars of my cell in an effort to be closer to him, trying to make him look at me.
“Is anyone watching?” Ron mumbled, still staring down toward my chin, not looking me in the eye.
“No, why?” I asked, puzzled.
Then he smiled, a quick flash of brilliant whiteness, before reclaiming his serious look. “Harry, trust me on this one, alright? I do believe you, but I can't let Robards know that or he won't let me work this case. He knows we've been best mates for ages, so unless he thinks I'm on his side, I might not get to know everything. Just trust me,” he said quickly.
I exhaled, almost falling to my knees in relief. “Thank Merlin, Ron. Do you have any idea what he's going on about? What Black family fortune?”
“Harry, the Malfoys may have used up a shite ton of their own wealth, but there's still a lot of Black family money sitting around at Gringotts that not even they could access after the War. It's watched, and not just anyone can access it. Bill told me about it once, when we were talking about Draco's Potions business,” Ron said. “And it's true - that money would have gone to Scorpius, or to his heirs if he had any, but with them gone, it'd go to Teddy once Narcissa Malfoy dies.”
“But Tonks never mentioned any of this to me - I had no idea. And besides, what do I want with more money? I've got Sirius's, I've got what my parents left me, plus I have a job.”
“I know, Harry, and that's what doesn't make sense. I know you'd do a lot of stupid shite, but never something like this, and especially not for money,” Ron jibed.
I cracked a swift smile in his direction. “What can I do to help? Anything?”
“I dunno right now, mate, but I promise you, I'm going to keep on looking,” Ron swore. “And so will Hermione - you know she loves a good challenge.”
“Thanks, Ron. I owe you,” I said in all seriousness. Once Ron left, I settled down on the hard metal cot, and wished with all my might that I had thought to ask him to bring me some cigs.
Chapter 13:
Two days went by. Two long, lonely days filled with nothing but idle chatter from the guards around me and the occasional satisfying piss. No Ron, no news, no nothing. But on the third day, a familiar face came walking down the corridor toward me.
“Hermione!” I said, grateful to have anyone besides myself to talk to.
“Shh,” she said, passing me a packet of cigarettes through the bars. “I don't know if you're allowed to have these, but I figured you could use them.” She smiled wanly. “How are you holding up?”
“About as well as can be expected,” I said, fingering the cigs longingly. “I'm so glad to see you. Is there any word?”
“Well, I'm sure that no one's bothered to tell you that Tonks has been awake for a few days now, and seems to be doing just fine,” Hermione said with a smile.
“Oh, thank Merlin! That's wonderful news,” I said. “Does she remember what happened? Who attacked her?”
“That's the disturbing thing, Harry,” she said with a worried look on her face. “She says she must have been dreaming about Teddy or something, because she swears that when she realized what was happening, she looked around and saw him. But she thinks that her brain is a bit addled from the beating, or that the concussion has confused her dreams with what really happened.”
“Must have done,” I mused. “Because Teddy's still comatose, yeah?”
“Yes, although the Mediwizards think they may have figured out what poison it was, or at least, the general type of poison,” she continued. “Apparently it's a very lethal version of some new experimental drug for treating amnesia, or something like that. It's a really new and not widely known drug, so they had no idea how to test for it, let alone to even look for it in the first place.”
“So can they fix it? Can they cure him?”
“They're working on it, but the problem with dealing with new things like this is that no one knows anything about them, and administering the wrong course of treatments could be fatal. He's not in any danger as he is, so they're taking it slowly so as not to do any more damage,” she said.
“Oh, I see,” I said, a bit dejectedly. Still, it was a step in the right direction, hopefully. “Do you believe me, Hermione?” I asked quietly.
“Of course I do, Harry,” she said, staring directly into my eyes, never blinking. “I know you'd never hurt Remus, or Tonks, or Teddy, and there is just no way that any family fortune, no matter how big it is, would ever cause you to act like that.”
“Thank you, Hermione,” I said, simply and sincerely.
“Besides, Ron and I were sitting with Tonks the other day.” She paused, biting her lip and looking at me. “She was very confused for a while, Harry, and I think Robards may have been in to talk with her, question her at some point. Anyway, I definitely got the feeling that maybe she was starting to doubt you.”
I opened my mouth to say something, but she waved her hand at me. “Hold on, Harry, hold on, let me finish. I said starting to doubt you, not that she definitely did. But when she started talking with us about this whole idea of the family fortune motive, we - well, she and Ron - realized something. Harry, even if the Malfoys were dead, which they are, and Remus, Tonks, and Teddy were also dead, you still wouldn't be the next in line for the Black fortune,” she said.
“What?” I asked, perplexed. “But I'm Teddy's godfather, and Sirius's godson. Robards said that -”
“Oh, pish-tosh. Robards doesn't know what we know,” she said dismissively. “Ron and Tonks were talking about the Black family tree, and Ron reminded us that technically, the Weasleys are related through both Arthur and Molly to the Blacks - and they're related by blood, Harry. Their lineage trumps your status. Any one of the Weasleys would be able to press their claim to the money.”
“But - but that eliminates my motive completely,” I said excitedly.
“You're bloody right, it does,” Hermione said firmly.
“And Tonks - she believes me now?”
“I don't think she ever really truly doubted you, Harry, but this has been an extremely stressful time, and I think - I think she was more confused over her feelings for you than any sort of belief that you'd suddenly turned into a baddie,” Hermione said.
I smiled, a secret, safe little smile. But something else was bothering me. “Hermione, go back a second. So, obviously the fact that the Weasleys would inherit over me eliminates my supposed motive,” I said.
“Right,” she replied. “But … ?”
“But then, who would want to set me up? Who could possibly gain from making Robards think that that was my motive? I mean, it's not like any of the Weasleys would do that to me, even if they wanted the Black fortune themselves.”
Her brow furrowed. “You're right, Harry. Clearly, someone out there believes that you're the only candidate left - but who?”
The guards began stirring, motioning to her that her time was up. “Look, Harry, I'll go to Ron and Tonks with this. Maybe they'll think of something again. Someone will be back to see you soon, I promise!” she said, hurriedly moving toward the hallway. “Take care of yourself, Harry! We love you!”
It was times like these that I wished I hadn't destroyed the Black family tree tapestry, but I never could have imagined it proving useful in my defense. So I had nothing to do for another few days except ponder who could possibly gain from framing me.
Click here to continue.
Title: The Set-Up (3/4)
Author: flaminia_x
Gift for: serpentsortiam
Rating: Hard R (or light NC-17) for sexual situations and foul language
Word Count: c. 19,125(!!!)
Pairing: Harry/Tonks
Warnings: Character deaths (not main characters), angst, drama, suspense. Mentions of masturbation. Ridiculously tiny mention of voyeurism - seriously, you'll probably miss it.
Summary: Harry is asked to investigate a series of suspicious attacks, but soon the suspicion is turned toward Harry himself. Can he clear his name?
A/N: AU, post-war, Harry's POV (1st person narrative). To serpentsortiam - thank you so much for such clear prompting and some great ideas. I had to be a bit flexible on the definition of “7th Wonder of the World” given that the only one still in existence is the Great Pyramid at Gaza, so I used the lists of later wonders for inspiration. I also had to tweak the very last bit of the prompt to make it fit with the style, so I hope that's ok! It's my very first Harry-Tonks fic, as well as my first attempt at a film noir-esque writing style, so I do hope you enjoy it!
Chapter 10:
We popped in to see Tonks, but she was thankfully asleep. Her face was a mess of cuts and bruises, though, and an egg-sized lump was clearly visible on her left temple. Whoever attacked her had been brutal.
Outside for a quick smoke, I turned to Ron. “The thing I don't understand is how she escaped. She's got no cuts or scrapes or torn fingernails to suggest she fought back, so it doesn't make sense for her to have gotten away from her attacker and have escaped through the Floo.”
“Yeah, I thought about that too,” he answered thoughtfully. “I'm wondering if maybe the attacker hit her so hard that instead of waking up, she became unconscious, and then when she woke up and realized what had happened, she left then?”
“But is that likely? With injuries like that, to have been unconscious only for such a short time, and then wake up mobile?” I asked.
“Not sure, but we can check with the Mediwizards,” he said.
We trudged back inside and met with Dr. Lovelace, the Mediwizard overseeing Tonks. “Dr. Lovelace, we were wondering if you'd be able to tell us anything you think that could help us understand how Tonks got here,” Ron asked.
“All we know is that she Flooed here under her own power, severely beaten and barely conscious. She was able to tell us she was attacked while she was asleep, then she called out the name of her son and a Harry, before falling unconscious,” Dr. Lovelace answered.
“That corroborates what we know, but sir, what we don't understand is what could possibly explain how she got away. Is it possible that the attacker thought she was dead and escaped, only for her to wake up and Floo here?” I pressed.
“It's certainly possible,” the man said. “Or perhaps she knew her attacker, and so she wasn't immediately afraid of him. I'm terribly sorry, I'm late for rounds. If you'll excuse me?”
After he walked away, Ron and I exchanged dark glances, knowing instantly what each other was thinking. This information certainly wouldn't make me look better in Robards's eyes.
“Harry, you know I have to tell him,” Ron said quietly, his eyes holding mine.
“Yeah,” I said, nodding. “I know. You're just doing your job.”
Ron exhaled. “Look, if you need anything … maybe you should take a leave of absence, just for a little while. I know you, you've got tons of vacation days stored up.”
“I can't go anywhere - not unless this whole thing is solved,” I spat.
“Not saying to take a holiday, Harry, just to lay low for a while, stay out of Robards' way. I'm sure he doesn't really think it's you, but you know these sorts of things have to be handled properly unless we want the bastard doing this to walk on a technicality,” Ron said.
“No, that we don't,” I said mechanically. “Fine. I'll go back with you and get some stuff from my office.”
I talked to Robards briefly. I thought he seemed relieved to have me gone for a while, and to be honest, I was too. I could do better work if I wasn't under constant supervision. Grabbing a small box, I hastily threw papers and files into it - anything that I thought was related to Tonks's case, Teddy, or the Malfoys. Everything else could bloody well wait. Shrinking it down and putting it in the pocket of my robes, I stopped quickly by Ron's office to tell him I was on official leave. He nodded, lips tightening, and promised to keep me informed. Thank Merlin for small favors.
Once home, though, I sank onto the couch, mind whirling. There was too much information in my head, and none of it pointing me in the right direction. But I swore to myself that leave or no leave, I wouldn't rest until I knew what was going on.
Three days passed by, three days of constant cigarettes and little bathing, of eating cold leftovers from dinners past and half a bottle of Firewhisky, and of absolutely no new ideas. Tonks wasn't awake enough yet to talk, and frankly, I wasn't sure how she'd react to me being there. The box from my office sat untouched in the pocket of the robes that I hadn't bothered to hang up. And so I sat, and kindled a fire in the evenings only to watch it burn to ashes, and then I'd start it all over again.
But on the fourth morning, I woke up a little more clear-headed. Stretching and yawning, I rubbed my eyes blearily and wondered when I'd last showered - a real shower, and not a quick Cleansing charm - or even brushed my teeth. I trudged upstairs and tried to relax under the warm stream of water, and donning fresh clothes. The downstairs was a mess. Not for the first time, I thanked Molly Weasley silently for her knowledge of household charms, and set the place to rights with a few muttered words. Today was Halloween, and it was time to get back to work.
I unearthed the tiny box of papers from my office and took it to my desk. Wand at the ready, I sent papers flying. In one corner went all the files from the Malfoy case, in another everything related to Teddy, and in the center, all the information I had on Tonks. Fixing myself a strong pot of tea, I took it and some reheated sausages back to the library, resolving to read everything over yet again. Maybe there was some small detail I had missed. Unlikely, given that I practically had everything memorized, but worth a shot.
Morning turned into afternoon, and afternoon turned into night, and I had taken breaks only to grab another greasy carton of Chinese takeaway and for a quick piss or three. Still, nothing was coming to mind. Nothing seemed new, nothing was showing any promise. Frustrated, I kicked the box that I had brought with me from the office, and jumped out of my skin when it rattled.
That's funny, I thought to myself. I thought all I had grabbed were my papers … I bent down and righted the box, startled to see a Muggle pen fall out. Must have been one of those pens Ron and I were using when we were in France investigating Draco's death. I grabbed it to throw it up onto my desk, but with a sickening swirl, I was yanked into myself.
Chapter 11:
I landed on cold, wet grass under a cloudy and starless sky. My heart raced, and I was almost sick, coughing raggedly into the ground beneath my head as I struggled to my knees. I hated Portkeys. Always had, ever since the Triwizard Tournament. My hand brushed against rough-hewn stone, and I grasped it, trying to right myself. I shook my head, begging my eyes to hurry up and adjust to the darkness around me. I smelled earth, felt the cold mist, but sensed no one around. Slowly, my eyes became accustomed to the lack of light, and I stood with my back to the stone, trying to figure out where I was.
“What the bloody hell is going on?” I muttered to myself sotto voce. Thank Merlin I had kept my wand tucked into my trousers. Standing still, I listened carefully. After five minutes had gone by without a single sound, I whispered Lumos and shone the soft light around me. I was surrounded by large, ancient boulders, some standing upright, others long since toppled over. Someone had Portkeyed me directly into the center of Stonehenge.
“Fuck me sideways,” I whispered, noticing something ahead. Was it a person, or another boulder? I inched forward, hesitant not to have the cold comfort of the stone guarding my back. As I approached, I realized it was, in fact, a person, but a very still, silent one. One leg was bent at an awkward angle, and its hands were bound above its head, which lolled backward in a parody of sleep. Whoever this one was, he or she wasn't with us any longer.
I shone the light around me, checking for attackers, and only when I was convinced I was alone with the body did I shine my wand down toward it. A silver knife protruded from the man's chest, a still-warm trickle of blood pooling around it. I moved the wand closer to the man's face.
“Shite. Shite, shite, bloody shite, shite on a cracker,” I said over and over again, my voice growing recklessly louder. It was Remus Lupin, and he was lying dead at my feet. I couldn't help myself. I've seen plenty of bodies, including too many of my loved ones, but … I turned and vomited loudly into the grass, retching until I thought I might have tasted the soles of my shoes. Wiping my face on my sleeve, I turned back.
“I'm sorry, Remus. I've got to go for help, I need to alert the … the authorities,” I said lamely to his body, aware that there wasn't anything I could do to help. Turning away, I raised my wand to send a Patronus to Ron. But before I could, I heard three distinct pops from outside the ring of stones. I raised my wand and backed up against the slab that held Remus's body. I may not have been able to protect him, but I'd be damned if I'd let anyone do anything else to him. My knees hit the back of the slab and I stumbled, my other hand flying backward to steady myself. It hit the knife, cocking it to one side, and I ended up with one hand pressed to Remus's motionless chest.
“Who's there?” I rasped.
“Harry?” I heard Ron's voice calling as if from a hundred kilometres away.
“Ron! Ron, in here,” I called back.
Ron walked into the center of the circle of stones, wand raised. He was followed by Robards and White. “Harry, what's going on - oh, Merlin, Harry, is that Remus?” he gasped.
“Ron, you've got to believe me,” I said. “Someone planted a Portkey in my office, and when I touched it, I ended up here. I found him here - he's dead. There was nothing I could do,” I finished, feeling more pitiful than I had in years.
“You found him like this?” Ron asked, motioning to Remus's body. “He was bound and - stabbed?”
“Yeah, just like this,” I hastened to explain. “I landed over there, by that stone -” I gestured with my wand, noticing that Robards and White gripped their own wands more tightly when I did so. “I waited for a few minutes, trying to see in the dark, trying to listen for anyone around me, but there wasn't any. When I lit my wand, I saw him. He was tied up, and the knife was in his chest. He was already dead.”
“White, check it out,” Robards motioned the other Auror over toward the body. “Potter. You say that someone planted a Portkey in your office?”
“They must have done, sir,” I said. “I emptied out the box of papers that I brought home from the office today, and I got frustrated, and I kicked it, and out fell this pen, and when I touched it, I wound up here.” I knew I was babbling, but I just had to get it all out. I had to make sure Ron believed me.
“Robards, he's definitely dead,” White called. “There's a silver knife in his chest. From the looks of things, he couldn't have been dead longer than half an hour at most. He's still warm, sir.”
“Take him in,” Robards said, gesturing at me.
My eyes widened. “Sir - sir! You can't think that I did this. Remus is - was - my friend! I told you what happened. Ron! You believe me, don't you?” I stared at my best friend, trying to find solace in his eyes. But he wouldn't look at me. I might as well have been stabbed with that knife too, for all the pain I was in. But I had no choice. I had to go in. Tears of impotent rage and hurt leaked from the corners of my eyes, but I presented my wrists to White, who magically handcuffed me.
“Ron, please ...” I whispered. Silently, Ron took one arm, White the other, and a minute later, we were in Robards' office.
Robards himself joined us twenty minutes later, having escorted Remus's corpse to St. Mungo's Morgue. Ron and White hadn't left my side, but try as I might, I couldn't get Ron to look at me. I kicked my heels annoyingly in an aimless pattern against the leg of my chair, wiggling my fingers to keep some feeling in them.
“Alright, Potter, you've got some serious explaining to do,” Robards said in a tone of voice I'd only heard him use on hardened criminals.
“I have nothing to explain. I've already told you exactly what happened,” I said, looking him straight in the eye.
“No, you've told me your version of how things happened, and I must admit, Potter, there are gaping holes in your story,” he snapped. “You can't honestly expect me to believe that days ago, someone mysterious snuck into the middle of the Auror Department, planted a Portkey in your office that you only just discovered tonight, and whisked you off to Stonehenge, alerting us just in time to find you standing over the still warm corpse of Remus Lupin, the ex-husband of your current … flame, and the father of your poisoned godson, a knife with your fingerprints on it buried to the hilt in his chest?”
My mouth dropped. Merlin's bollocks on a cracker, it sounded ludicrous, but the sad thing is, it was the truth. “I - yes, sir, I do expect you to believe that, because that's exactly what happened.” Some secret part of me was very proud that my voice didn't shake when I answered him.
Robards gaped at me. “You've got some bollocks on you, Potter,” he sneered. “We've searched your house. We found the pen you claim is a Portkey, but again, it only has your fingerprints on it. Harcourt touched it, and yet he's standing outside this door, not in the middle of bloody Stonehenge.”
“But that would make sense,” I interjected. “Portkeys stop working after one use, so of course he's here and not there.”
“That doesn't explain how your fingerprints ended up on the knife in Lupin's chest, does it?” Robards thundered down at me.
“When I heard you three Apparate in, I couldn't see you. I backed up against the slab, but I lost my balance, and when I reached back to steady myself, I grabbed the knife by accident. It's coincidence!” I rebutted.
“Coincidence, just like your fingerprints are the only other ones on the letter Tonks got under her door?” Robards countered.
“Yes. Exactly like that!” I said, steaming.
“Then how do you explain this letter?” Robards said, shoving a piece of parchment across his desk at me.
Chapter 12:
Hunching forward, I read: “Auror Robards - I'm afraid for my life. Potter's been threatening me to stay away from Teddy. He said if I came near my son, he'd kill me. Please help me. Remus Lupin”
“That's - that's ridiculous,” I spluttered. “I've never threatened Remus a day in my life. I didn't even know he'd been to see Teddy!”
“How did you know he'd gone to see Teddy?” Robards quickly asked.
“I didn't! I just said that!” I groaned. “If he had, I would have been thrilled. I may not spend much time with him anymore but I know he loves his son.”
“Potter, Remus went to see Teddy today, just hours before you supposedly found him dead,” Robards stated.
“And you think I killed him because of it?” I asked incredulously.
“Did you?”
“Absolutely not!” I seethed. “And that doesn't explain how you found me at Stonehenge anyway.”
“Any Auror that's under suspicion of anything criminal has a tracking spell put on them the minute they leave this building,” Robards growled. “If they leave their home, we know about it, and if they go more than a few kilometres in any direction, or show up in any suspicious locations, we follow them. Pure luck on our part that you didn't remember that, eh, Potter?”
“Sod off, Robards!” I spat. “I didn't kill him. I didn't attack Tonks, I didn't poison Teddy. They're my family, you bloody bastard! I've got no reason to hurt any of them.”
“That's enough, Harry,” I heard Ron say, his hand on my shoulder.
But Robards stepped in front of me swiftly. “Oh, yes, you do, don't you, Harry?”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“You've got the greatest motive of all - greed,” Robards stated softly.
“Greed? Greed for what?”
“Come on, Potter, don't play dumb with me. You know and I know that if Tonks and Teddy Lupin were to die, you'd be the sole inheritor of the Black family fortune,” Robards whispered. Ron's head jerked up, and he stared at Robards through narrowed eyes.
I was dumbstruck. I had no idea what the man was on about. “What family fortune?” I asked.
He laughed, a soft, cold laugh with no humour in it whatsoever. “Come off it, Potter. Teddy's currently the only one that can inherit the fortune, as the last surviving member of the house of Black through his grandmother, Andromeda. Draco Malfoy's son Scorpius would have been first in line, but once the rest of that branch of the family passes away, Teddy would inherit everything. But if there's no Teddy, and no Tonks, and no Remus, then you, as Teddy's godfather and Sirius's godson, are the last tenuous link to that fortune.”
I had absolutely nothing to say. My mind whirled frantically, trying to digest this information. My mouth worked, opening and closing without a sound.
Robards laughed again. “Got you in one, Potter.” Standing up, he turned to Ron and White. “Lock him up, lads. Lock him up.” And without another glance, he turned and walked out of the room, whistling tunelessly.
I walked blankly between Ron and White down to the holding cells, where I was shut in with a thin blanket and a jug of water. White began to walk away. “Coming, Weasley?” he called.
“Yeah, gimme a mo', will you?” Ron responded. He turned and looked down at me, a woeful look on his face.
“Oh, Ron, please, don't believe him,” I pleaded, grasping the bars of my cell in an effort to be closer to him, trying to make him look at me.
“Is anyone watching?” Ron mumbled, still staring down toward my chin, not looking me in the eye.
“No, why?” I asked, puzzled.
Then he smiled, a quick flash of brilliant whiteness, before reclaiming his serious look. “Harry, trust me on this one, alright? I do believe you, but I can't let Robards know that or he won't let me work this case. He knows we've been best mates for ages, so unless he thinks I'm on his side, I might not get to know everything. Just trust me,” he said quickly.
I exhaled, almost falling to my knees in relief. “Thank Merlin, Ron. Do you have any idea what he's going on about? What Black family fortune?”
“Harry, the Malfoys may have used up a shite ton of their own wealth, but there's still a lot of Black family money sitting around at Gringotts that not even they could access after the War. It's watched, and not just anyone can access it. Bill told me about it once, when we were talking about Draco's Potions business,” Ron said. “And it's true - that money would have gone to Scorpius, or to his heirs if he had any, but with them gone, it'd go to Teddy once Narcissa Malfoy dies.”
“But Tonks never mentioned any of this to me - I had no idea. And besides, what do I want with more money? I've got Sirius's, I've got what my parents left me, plus I have a job.”
“I know, Harry, and that's what doesn't make sense. I know you'd do a lot of stupid shite, but never something like this, and especially not for money,” Ron jibed.
I cracked a swift smile in his direction. “What can I do to help? Anything?”
“I dunno right now, mate, but I promise you, I'm going to keep on looking,” Ron swore. “And so will Hermione - you know she loves a good challenge.”
“Thanks, Ron. I owe you,” I said in all seriousness. Once Ron left, I settled down on the hard metal cot, and wished with all my might that I had thought to ask him to bring me some cigs.
Chapter 13:
Two days went by. Two long, lonely days filled with nothing but idle chatter from the guards around me and the occasional satisfying piss. No Ron, no news, no nothing. But on the third day, a familiar face came walking down the corridor toward me.
“Hermione!” I said, grateful to have anyone besides myself to talk to.
“Shh,” she said, passing me a packet of cigarettes through the bars. “I don't know if you're allowed to have these, but I figured you could use them.” She smiled wanly. “How are you holding up?”
“About as well as can be expected,” I said, fingering the cigs longingly. “I'm so glad to see you. Is there any word?”
“Well, I'm sure that no one's bothered to tell you that Tonks has been awake for a few days now, and seems to be doing just fine,” Hermione said with a smile.
“Oh, thank Merlin! That's wonderful news,” I said. “Does she remember what happened? Who attacked her?”
“That's the disturbing thing, Harry,” she said with a worried look on her face. “She says she must have been dreaming about Teddy or something, because she swears that when she realized what was happening, she looked around and saw him. But she thinks that her brain is a bit addled from the beating, or that the concussion has confused her dreams with what really happened.”
“Must have done,” I mused. “Because Teddy's still comatose, yeah?”
“Yes, although the Mediwizards think they may have figured out what poison it was, or at least, the general type of poison,” she continued. “Apparently it's a very lethal version of some new experimental drug for treating amnesia, or something like that. It's a really new and not widely known drug, so they had no idea how to test for it, let alone to even look for it in the first place.”
“So can they fix it? Can they cure him?”
“They're working on it, but the problem with dealing with new things like this is that no one knows anything about them, and administering the wrong course of treatments could be fatal. He's not in any danger as he is, so they're taking it slowly so as not to do any more damage,” she said.
“Oh, I see,” I said, a bit dejectedly. Still, it was a step in the right direction, hopefully. “Do you believe me, Hermione?” I asked quietly.
“Of course I do, Harry,” she said, staring directly into my eyes, never blinking. “I know you'd never hurt Remus, or Tonks, or Teddy, and there is just no way that any family fortune, no matter how big it is, would ever cause you to act like that.”
“Thank you, Hermione,” I said, simply and sincerely.
“Besides, Ron and I were sitting with Tonks the other day.” She paused, biting her lip and looking at me. “She was very confused for a while, Harry, and I think Robards may have been in to talk with her, question her at some point. Anyway, I definitely got the feeling that maybe she was starting to doubt you.”
I opened my mouth to say something, but she waved her hand at me. “Hold on, Harry, hold on, let me finish. I said starting to doubt you, not that she definitely did. But when she started talking with us about this whole idea of the family fortune motive, we - well, she and Ron - realized something. Harry, even if the Malfoys were dead, which they are, and Remus, Tonks, and Teddy were also dead, you still wouldn't be the next in line for the Black fortune,” she said.
“What?” I asked, perplexed. “But I'm Teddy's godfather, and Sirius's godson. Robards said that -”
“Oh, pish-tosh. Robards doesn't know what we know,” she said dismissively. “Ron and Tonks were talking about the Black family tree, and Ron reminded us that technically, the Weasleys are related through both Arthur and Molly to the Blacks - and they're related by blood, Harry. Their lineage trumps your status. Any one of the Weasleys would be able to press their claim to the money.”
“But - but that eliminates my motive completely,” I said excitedly.
“You're bloody right, it does,” Hermione said firmly.
“And Tonks - she believes me now?”
“I don't think she ever really truly doubted you, Harry, but this has been an extremely stressful time, and I think - I think she was more confused over her feelings for you than any sort of belief that you'd suddenly turned into a baddie,” Hermione said.
I smiled, a secret, safe little smile. But something else was bothering me. “Hermione, go back a second. So, obviously the fact that the Weasleys would inherit over me eliminates my supposed motive,” I said.
“Right,” she replied. “But … ?”
“But then, who would want to set me up? Who could possibly gain from making Robards think that that was my motive? I mean, it's not like any of the Weasleys would do that to me, even if they wanted the Black fortune themselves.”
Her brow furrowed. “You're right, Harry. Clearly, someone out there believes that you're the only candidate left - but who?”
The guards began stirring, motioning to her that her time was up. “Look, Harry, I'll go to Ron and Tonks with this. Maybe they'll think of something again. Someone will be back to see you soon, I promise!” she said, hurriedly moving toward the hallway. “Take care of yourself, Harry! We love you!”
It was times like these that I wished I hadn't destroyed the Black family tree tapestry, but I never could have imagined it proving useful in my defense. So I had nothing to do for another few days except ponder who could possibly gain from framing me.
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