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The Case of the Escaped Death Eater, Chapter 2
Title: The Case of the Escaped Death Eater
Author: shiiki
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Ron Weasley/Hermione Granger, Neville Longbottom/Hannah Abbott, various others
Fandom: Harry Potter
Summary: Five years after the end of the war, Aurors Weasley and Longbottom find themselves working together to capture an escaped prisoner on a tight deadline: before the full moon. However, the case is not as straightforward as it seems, especially when the witches in their lives appear to be involved as well ...
Chapter Listing
In this chapter
Chapter Title: A Clue from St Mungo's
Rating: PG
Characters: Ron Weasley, Neville Longbottom, Proudfoot, OCs
Word Count: 1,694
Chapter Summary: Ron and Neville take their report back to London and get a lead on their case.
Notes: Special thanks to pili204 for her help in fleshing out the ending for this chapter!
The Auror Headquarters was alive with activity when Neville and Ron arrived. Their colleagues dashed around, yelling things to each other. Half a dozen airplane memos flew in with them and darted to the respective desks. Harry was nowhere in sight.
'Weasley! Longbottom! Over here!'
They made their way over to Proudfoot, who was beckoning them while scanning over a piece of parchment. 'What's the situation at Azkaban?' he said without any preliminaries. He stood a quill over a blank parchment, readying it to transcribe their statements.
'Not good, sir. Spells untouched except for once; probably this morning at the same time the alarm went off. None of the prisoners except Lucius Malfoy seemed to have seen anything and he's being ...' Ron paused, and Neville guessed he was trying to bite back the words 'an arse'; he finally settled on, 'difficult.'
Proudfoot made an impatient noise.
'Sorry, sir,' said Neville, 'we told him we hadn't authority to make bargains, but maybe we should've-'
'No, no,' said Proudfoot, cutting him off. 'You were right -- can't threaten him, he knows the game far too well. Bloody Malfoy. Never mind, we'll see how we can work around that. Anything else you picked up, then?'
Neville extracted the vial of blood carefully. 'We took samples in case it was fresh.'
Proudfoot glanced at it briefly. 'Have that down to the Forensic Potions Department at St Mungo's.'
'Yes, sir.'
'While you're there, you can take statements from the Healers as well. They sent the bodies there to be examined. Before you go, though -- you've both been identified as potential targets.'
'What?'
'Among others. You were the two that took Greyback down in the war, weren't you?'
'Er, yes,' said Neville uncertainly, 'but --'
'Well, unless we learn that Greyback is operating with someone else, we need to go by the assumption that he may be out for revenge. Harry Potter is an obvious target, but going over what we know, both of you may be on the list as well.'
'Oh. Well ...'
'And from what we know, Greyback has a history of going after young children.'
'Teddy!' gasped Ron. 'Harry's godson --'
'Potter's gone to him. We'll have Aurors guarding potential victims as far as possible. I need to know if there's any vulnerable member of your families that need protection. Children, infirm grandparents ...'
Neville shook his head. There was only him and Gran, and she was well able to take care of herself -- all the Auror department knew that. And his parents were in St Mungo's, which should be impossible for Greyback to breach. But perhaps to be safe ...
'Sir, my parents --'
'In St Mungo's, aren't they?' said Proudfoot. 'Not to worry, it'll be secure.'
Ron had a lot more to worry about. With his enormous family, he didn't seem to know where to start.
'There's ... well, only my eldest brother has kids to worry about so far, but I don't want to leave any of the rest of them unprotected either. And Greyback's threatened my wife before.'
'Your eldest brother ... that'd be Bill Weasley, wouldn't it? Yes, he's on the list.'
'And Hermione --'
'Will have heard the news, I'm sure. Regulation and Control will have been informed.'
Ron looked as though he didn't only want Hermione to be informed, he wanted her to be packed off to somewhere safe, but he made no comment.
'That'll be all, then,' said Proudfoot. 'When you've got the reports done, you're off, and do get some rest. It's going to be a busy few weeks ahead of us.' He directed a sheet of parchment into each of their hands. It appeared to be a timetable. 'Emergency work schedules. I've had to put in shifts at Azkaban. Have a look and any arrangements that need to be made, I want them done today.'
---
The Healer on duty at St Mungo's at the time the bodies had been brought in was a calm, middle-aged wizard named Edgar Everton. His trainee, however, a young witch who appeared to be barely out of Hogwarts, looked as though she was about to hurl. Neville sympathised. He'd seen enough during the war to know that it couldn't have been a pleasant morning for her.
'We've identified the bodies,' said Everton. 'Portia Wimple, David Bain, Patrick Wentworth, and Queenie Parkinson. I assume you'll want to contact the families?'
'Er -- yes, of course,' said Neville glumly. This was the least favourite part of his job -- relating bad news to a family member always made him think of who had brought Gran the news about his parents.
'Hang on,' said Ron suddenly. 'What about the last guard?'
'I beg your pardon, sir?'
'You only gave us four names. There were five guards -- what happened to the fifth?'
'I'm sorry, Auror Weasley, we were only brought four bodies.'
Neville frowned. Ron was right -- there had been five guards logged in on last night's shift. If Greyback had attacked all of them, there should have been five bodies.
'Are you sure you didn't miss one? They would have been pretty -- er -- torn up.'
'Absolutely certain, Auror Longbottom. We did a reconstruction spell. There were no pieces that identified as a fifth body.'
'Blimey,' breathed Ron. Neville knew he'd come to the same conclusion.
It looked like they wouldn't have to sweet-talk Malfoy into co-operating any more; their question of just who might have let Greyback out of the cell had been answered.
---
There was no going home to rest after that. They couldn't have, not with a lead like that dangling in their faces. Neville and Ron dashed off quick reports and left them on Proudfoot's desk, then set off straight away to investigate.
'Got his records,' said Ron. 'Alexander MacKay. Seems pretty clean.'
'He was at Hogwarts a few years above us,' noted Neville. 'Slytherin. Left in 1994 ... oh, after his O.W.L.s. We wouldn't have known him at all, then.'
'Slytherin?'
'They aren't all bad.'
'Yeah, I know,' said Ron. 'Old Snape turned out on the right side and all that.'
Neville frowned. He hadn't meant Snape, though he supposed it was a fair example, even if he'd never think fondly of the man. He'd been more concerned about the few Slytherins who had risked their lives with them in the DA. None of them had survived the war, and although Neville made sure their names were duly listed with the other heroes, still nobody seemed to remember them much.
He went back to scanning the file. 'Well, there's an address and all. We can have a look.'
'Yeah. What are the chances that we'll actually get both him and Greyback there?' joked Ron.
Alexander MacKay's listed address turned out to be a flat in a predominantly Muggle block. This was innocent enough, but Neville thought that it would certainly be much easier for MacKay to conceal any suspicious activities from Muggle neighbour as compared to wizarding ones.
Neither he nor Ron was very surprised when their pounding of MacKay's front door yielded no response. Ron glanced around furtively, saw no one, and poked his wand out of his cloak. 'Homenum Revelio,' he whispered. Nothing happened.
''Oo are yeh?'
The sudden voice made them both jump. They swung round to see an old lady in a shawl poking her head out of the opposite flat. Ron stowed his wand hastily.
'We're -- er-' Neville cleared his throat and tried to speak more 'officially'. 'We're looking for Alexander MacKay. Perhaps you could tell us if we have the right address?'
The woman sniffed. 'MacKay. Yeah, that'd be the bloke 'oo's door yeh're all but banging down. Odd sort of fellow. 'Choo want with 'im?' Her eyes narrowed as they ran up and down Ron and Neville's bodies, taking in their cloaks. 'Dresses like yeh, come ter think of it.'
'His assistance is required in an official investigation,' said Ron shortly.
'Oooh,' said the woman. 'Got the bobbies after 'im, has 'e? I ain't surprised. 'E's always bin the quiet sort. Keeps 'imself ter 'imself. And last month 'e's been odder'n ever.'
'What do you mean, "odder"?' asked Neville carefully.
'Oh,' she said, waving her hand vaguely, 'sorta dodgy.' She shrugged. 'S'none of my business.'
'Well, ma'am,' said Neville, 'if you don't mind me asking, when was the last time you saw Mr MacKay?'
She thought for a moment. 'Musta bin ... two days ago? No, I don't remember too well. I said 'e keeps ter 'imself, didn't I?'
'Have you seen anyone else around?' Ron asked quickly. 'A stranger, I mean? Someone whom you haven't seen before?'
'Jus' the two of yeh. No one comes round these parts much. Don't even get 'em raffle ticket sellers.'
Neville had no clue what raffle tickets were, but the gist of the old lady's words were clear. He doubted she had much more information. The standard procedure at this point was to Obliviate her, but Neville hesitated. He didn't think they'd given anything away that would compromise the Statute of Secrecy, and there was no reason to hide that they had been here.
Ron must have been thinking along the same lines, because he nudged Neville and jerked his head down the corridor to indicate they should just leave.
'Thank you for your help,' Neville told the woman. She shrugged again and sidled back through her door without answering.
'I reckon we can skip the Memory Charm, don't you?' said Ron in a low voice. 'Not a fan of those spells, personally. There's too many ways they can go wrong.'
Neville agreed readily.
'I suppose it wasn't a waste of time,' continued Ron as they made their way out of the building. 'We know a bit more than we did before. Besides ...' He stopped just outside the entrance. 'Cover me, will you?'
Neville shifted so that he was blocking Ron's wand hand from the view of anyone who might pass. Ron swept his wand in a low arch, casting his spell nonverbally.
'Tracer for MacKay?'
Ron nodded. 'If he comes back, we'll know. Until then ... well, we'll just have to wait.'
Author: shiiki
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Ron Weasley/Hermione Granger, Neville Longbottom/Hannah Abbott, various others
Fandom: Harry Potter
Summary: Five years after the end of the war, Aurors Weasley and Longbottom find themselves working together to capture an escaped prisoner on a tight deadline: before the full moon. However, the case is not as straightforward as it seems, especially when the witches in their lives appear to be involved as well ...
Chapter Listing
In this chapter
Chapter Title: A Clue from St Mungo's
Rating: PG
Characters: Ron Weasley, Neville Longbottom, Proudfoot, OCs
Word Count: 1,694
Chapter Summary: Ron and Neville take their report back to London and get a lead on their case.
Notes: Special thanks to pili204 for her help in fleshing out the ending for this chapter!
The Auror Headquarters was alive with activity when Neville and Ron arrived. Their colleagues dashed around, yelling things to each other. Half a dozen airplane memos flew in with them and darted to the respective desks. Harry was nowhere in sight.
'Weasley! Longbottom! Over here!'
They made their way over to Proudfoot, who was beckoning them while scanning over a piece of parchment. 'What's the situation at Azkaban?' he said without any preliminaries. He stood a quill over a blank parchment, readying it to transcribe their statements.
'Not good, sir. Spells untouched except for once; probably this morning at the same time the alarm went off. None of the prisoners except Lucius Malfoy seemed to have seen anything and he's being ...' Ron paused, and Neville guessed he was trying to bite back the words 'an arse'; he finally settled on, 'difficult.'
Proudfoot made an impatient noise.
'Sorry, sir,' said Neville, 'we told him we hadn't authority to make bargains, but maybe we should've-'
'No, no,' said Proudfoot, cutting him off. 'You were right -- can't threaten him, he knows the game far too well. Bloody Malfoy. Never mind, we'll see how we can work around that. Anything else you picked up, then?'
Neville extracted the vial of blood carefully. 'We took samples in case it was fresh.'
Proudfoot glanced at it briefly. 'Have that down to the Forensic Potions Department at St Mungo's.'
'Yes, sir.'
'While you're there, you can take statements from the Healers as well. They sent the bodies there to be examined. Before you go, though -- you've both been identified as potential targets.'
'What?'
'Among others. You were the two that took Greyback down in the war, weren't you?'
'Er, yes,' said Neville uncertainly, 'but --'
'Well, unless we learn that Greyback is operating with someone else, we need to go by the assumption that he may be out for revenge. Harry Potter is an obvious target, but going over what we know, both of you may be on the list as well.'
'Oh. Well ...'
'And from what we know, Greyback has a history of going after young children.'
'Teddy!' gasped Ron. 'Harry's godson --'
'Potter's gone to him. We'll have Aurors guarding potential victims as far as possible. I need to know if there's any vulnerable member of your families that need protection. Children, infirm grandparents ...'
Neville shook his head. There was only him and Gran, and she was well able to take care of herself -- all the Auror department knew that. And his parents were in St Mungo's, which should be impossible for Greyback to breach. But perhaps to be safe ...
'Sir, my parents --'
'In St Mungo's, aren't they?' said Proudfoot. 'Not to worry, it'll be secure.'
Ron had a lot more to worry about. With his enormous family, he didn't seem to know where to start.
'There's ... well, only my eldest brother has kids to worry about so far, but I don't want to leave any of the rest of them unprotected either. And Greyback's threatened my wife before.'
'Your eldest brother ... that'd be Bill Weasley, wouldn't it? Yes, he's on the list.'
'And Hermione --'
'Will have heard the news, I'm sure. Regulation and Control will have been informed.'
Ron looked as though he didn't only want Hermione to be informed, he wanted her to be packed off to somewhere safe, but he made no comment.
'That'll be all, then,' said Proudfoot. 'When you've got the reports done, you're off, and do get some rest. It's going to be a busy few weeks ahead of us.' He directed a sheet of parchment into each of their hands. It appeared to be a timetable. 'Emergency work schedules. I've had to put in shifts at Azkaban. Have a look and any arrangements that need to be made, I want them done today.'
---
The Healer on duty at St Mungo's at the time the bodies had been brought in was a calm, middle-aged wizard named Edgar Everton. His trainee, however, a young witch who appeared to be barely out of Hogwarts, looked as though she was about to hurl. Neville sympathised. He'd seen enough during the war to know that it couldn't have been a pleasant morning for her.
'We've identified the bodies,' said Everton. 'Portia Wimple, David Bain, Patrick Wentworth, and Queenie Parkinson. I assume you'll want to contact the families?'
'Er -- yes, of course,' said Neville glumly. This was the least favourite part of his job -- relating bad news to a family member always made him think of who had brought Gran the news about his parents.
'Hang on,' said Ron suddenly. 'What about the last guard?'
'I beg your pardon, sir?'
'You only gave us four names. There were five guards -- what happened to the fifth?'
'I'm sorry, Auror Weasley, we were only brought four bodies.'
Neville frowned. Ron was right -- there had been five guards logged in on last night's shift. If Greyback had attacked all of them, there should have been five bodies.
'Are you sure you didn't miss one? They would have been pretty -- er -- torn up.'
'Absolutely certain, Auror Longbottom. We did a reconstruction spell. There were no pieces that identified as a fifth body.'
'Blimey,' breathed Ron. Neville knew he'd come to the same conclusion.
It looked like they wouldn't have to sweet-talk Malfoy into co-operating any more; their question of just who might have let Greyback out of the cell had been answered.
---
There was no going home to rest after that. They couldn't have, not with a lead like that dangling in their faces. Neville and Ron dashed off quick reports and left them on Proudfoot's desk, then set off straight away to investigate.
'Got his records,' said Ron. 'Alexander MacKay. Seems pretty clean.'
'He was at Hogwarts a few years above us,' noted Neville. 'Slytherin. Left in 1994 ... oh, after his O.W.L.s. We wouldn't have known him at all, then.'
'Slytherin?'
'They aren't all bad.'
'Yeah, I know,' said Ron. 'Old Snape turned out on the right side and all that.'
Neville frowned. He hadn't meant Snape, though he supposed it was a fair example, even if he'd never think fondly of the man. He'd been more concerned about the few Slytherins who had risked their lives with them in the DA. None of them had survived the war, and although Neville made sure their names were duly listed with the other heroes, still nobody seemed to remember them much.
He went back to scanning the file. 'Well, there's an address and all. We can have a look.'
'Yeah. What are the chances that we'll actually get both him and Greyback there?' joked Ron.
Alexander MacKay's listed address turned out to be a flat in a predominantly Muggle block. This was innocent enough, but Neville thought that it would certainly be much easier for MacKay to conceal any suspicious activities from Muggle neighbour as compared to wizarding ones.
Neither he nor Ron was very surprised when their pounding of MacKay's front door yielded no response. Ron glanced around furtively, saw no one, and poked his wand out of his cloak. 'Homenum Revelio,' he whispered. Nothing happened.
''Oo are yeh?'
The sudden voice made them both jump. They swung round to see an old lady in a shawl poking her head out of the opposite flat. Ron stowed his wand hastily.
'We're -- er-' Neville cleared his throat and tried to speak more 'officially'. 'We're looking for Alexander MacKay. Perhaps you could tell us if we have the right address?'
The woman sniffed. 'MacKay. Yeah, that'd be the bloke 'oo's door yeh're all but banging down. Odd sort of fellow. 'Choo want with 'im?' Her eyes narrowed as they ran up and down Ron and Neville's bodies, taking in their cloaks. 'Dresses like yeh, come ter think of it.'
'His assistance is required in an official investigation,' said Ron shortly.
'Oooh,' said the woman. 'Got the bobbies after 'im, has 'e? I ain't surprised. 'E's always bin the quiet sort. Keeps 'imself ter 'imself. And last month 'e's been odder'n ever.'
'What do you mean, "odder"?' asked Neville carefully.
'Oh,' she said, waving her hand vaguely, 'sorta dodgy.' She shrugged. 'S'none of my business.'
'Well, ma'am,' said Neville, 'if you don't mind me asking, when was the last time you saw Mr MacKay?'
She thought for a moment. 'Musta bin ... two days ago? No, I don't remember too well. I said 'e keeps ter 'imself, didn't I?'
'Have you seen anyone else around?' Ron asked quickly. 'A stranger, I mean? Someone whom you haven't seen before?'
'Jus' the two of yeh. No one comes round these parts much. Don't even get 'em raffle ticket sellers.'
Neville had no clue what raffle tickets were, but the gist of the old lady's words were clear. He doubted she had much more information. The standard procedure at this point was to Obliviate her, but Neville hesitated. He didn't think they'd given anything away that would compromise the Statute of Secrecy, and there was no reason to hide that they had been here.
Ron must have been thinking along the same lines, because he nudged Neville and jerked his head down the corridor to indicate they should just leave.
'Thank you for your help,' Neville told the woman. She shrugged again and sidled back through her door without answering.
'I reckon we can skip the Memory Charm, don't you?' said Ron in a low voice. 'Not a fan of those spells, personally. There's too many ways they can go wrong.'
Neville agreed readily.
'I suppose it wasn't a waste of time,' continued Ron as they made their way out of the building. 'We know a bit more than we did before. Besides ...' He stopped just outside the entrance. 'Cover me, will you?'
Neville shifted so that he was blocking Ron's wand hand from the view of anyone who might pass. Ron swept his wand in a low arch, casting his spell nonverbally.
'Tracer for MacKay?'
Ron nodded. 'If he comes back, we'll know. Until then ... well, we'll just have to wait.'