Solving the Clues
Title: Solving the Clues
Rating: PG-13
Length: 8,550 words
First posted: 24th July 2008, in omniocular
Summary: Kingsley Shacklebolt had never expected his habit of solving the Daily Prophet crosswords to uncover a security leak. But when the Potterwatch passwords started to appear in them as answers to clues, he had little choice but to investigate who was behind it ...
Notes: Thanks to lupinslittlesis for some very helpful beta suggestions. Any remaining glitches are my fault.
Translated into Russian by lady_nym here.
Solving the Daily Prophet crossword might seem an odd way to honour a fallen friend and comrade, but from Kingsley Shacklebolt's point of view, it was by far the most appropriate.
He had never expected it would spark an investigation into a security leak in Potterwatch.
Then again, he had never expected Sirius Black to become a close personal friend, either, but that was why he'd developed the habit of crossword solving. Naturally, Sirius had been deeply suspicious of the man who had spent two years trying to return him to the cold embrace of the Dementors. Equally, Kingsley himself had found it awkward to deal with someone he had regarded as a desperate renegade. They had bonded, oddly enough, over Sirius's love for solving the crosswords in copies of the Prophet left at Order headquarters, which he read with a growled comment that it was the only thing in them that wasn't a lie. Kingsley soon realised, though, that Sirius was finding them hard to do -- which he naturally put down to being out of practice, although Kingsley wasn't fooled. He had seen far too many prisoners struggle after release from Azkaban.
So he made it into a sort of game to see who could get the most clues. Remus Lupin quickly caught on to what he was doing, and would chip in with the occasional answer, as would Albus Dumbledore (with a twinkle in his eye that said he'd got it a long time ago) and Nymphadora Tonks (with a cheery grin that said she'd only just worked it out and was determined to let everyone know). Even Minerva McGonagall, on one of her occasional visits, was eventually prevailed upon to offer the answer to one clue requiring knowledge of her field -- Transfiguration master got it backwards in pulp magazine article (4) -- which had stumped everyone else present. As Sirius's former Head of House it clearly embarrassed her to see him struggle. It brought back memories Kingsley had forgotten he had -- of a handsome, carefree young man at Hogwarts, sitting at the Gryffindor table with one hand scribbling answers and the other steadily conveying a stack of toast to his mouth, and almost always finishing both tasks before it was time to leave for lessons.
After the battle in the Department of Mysteries, it had seemed only fitting to keep up the tradition. Kingsley had become glad of it -- in the desert that wizarding Britain had become in the wake of Dumbledore's murder, the crossword was an oasis of normality. As a fugitive, there was little he could do to fight back directly against the takeover of the Ministry. He sometimes thought that his morning routine with the paper and his role on Potterwatch were all that kept him sane.
As Kingsley settled down with the latest copy of the Daily Prophet on the table in front of him, he had no reason to suspect that the two were about to become connected. He dashed off the first few clues quickly enough -- US city grew from fire (7), very easy, A nerve net to wake you up (9), pretty straightforward, and Container against having old Scots right inside it (8), one he had to think about -- then winced slightly as he caught sight of 23 across, Dog star declares he's American to authority (6). His friend would have been quite chuffed to see that one appear. He'd chosen his name as the latest Potterwatch password for the same sort of reason ...
Kingsley paused with his quill hovering above the first square. He had a feeling he was missing something. But what? There was no reason why the password shouldn't be an answer to a crossword clue. Surely it was a coincidence?
That thought seemed worryingly familiar.
Then it hit him. This latest password was only the second he'd chosen personally; usually, he paid little attention to them -- after all, he was appearing on the programme, he didn't need a password. But he remembered tackling previous clues and thinking vaguely that he'd heard them somewhere else recently.
Fortunately, he had all the daily papers for the past few months filed away, as an easily consultable record of the idiocies the Ministry were putting out. It was sometimes possible to make sense of an earlier article in the light of a later one, if you read between the lines with a practised eye. It was rather like solving a cryptic clue in its own right. He opened them to the crossword pages, found the list of Potterwatch passwords he'd scribbled down for reference on a piece of paper charmed to look like a shopping list to anyone else, and compared the two.
The results were disquieting.
Every time a new password was announced, it would appear as an answer in the Daily Prophet crossword within a few days. The interval wasn't fixed, nor was the number of the clue, but it was always the final 'across' clue, whatever that happened to be. And although it was hard to tell, he had the impression that those clues were slightly easier than average.
He sat back to consider the matter. The Potterwatch passwords were a strange kind of secret, really. On the one hand, the programme team wanted everyone who might need a bit of hope to be able to tune in, to show them there was someone out there on their side, still fighting. On the other hand, they weren't supposed to be handed out to all and sundry, in case Death Eaters or their fellow travellers tuned in and heard something they shouldn't. They didn't announce the times of the broadcasts for the same reason. It might be a Potterwatch sympathiser who was doing it, of course ... or it might equally well be an enemy.
Or it might be pure coincidence. The Muggle Prime Minister had told him of such things happening in wars, but he wasn't sure he believed it in this case. These weren't just random words that had been used as passwords, they were the current passwords appearing shortly after issue. It surely meant that the compiler was making a deliberate effort to insert them ... whoever the compiler was.
He checked the papers carefully, but the majority of the crosswords -- and all of those containing passwords -- appeared under the thoroughly bland generic alias of 'Wise Owl', and he had no idea if that name represented one person or a committee.
Kingsley scowled. Regrettably, the primary suspects had to be his fellow broadcasters. Before doing anything else, it would be wise to have a quiet talk with them about the importance of keeping colleagues informed.
*****
"Remus, could I have a word?"
"Of course, Kingsley. What about?"
"Have you seen any of the Daily Prophet crosswords recently?"
Remus's face took on an oddly closed expression. "No," he said shortly. "Why?"
Kingsley explained what he had discovered, watching Remus's face carefully. "Clearly someone who knows the passwords is putting them into the crossword," he finished. "Wouldn't you agree?"
His friend's expression seemed innocently puzzled, although with Remus it was often hard to tell. "Couldn't it be a coincidence?"
"Do you really believe that?"
"No. No, I suppose not." Remus ran a hand through his greying hair. "Damn. That's not good."
He really had no choice but to ask the direct question. "It wasn't you, by any chance?"
Remus turned away. "No. Actually, I haven't so much as looked at a Daily Prophet crossword since our little expedition to the Department of Mysteries. Haven't had the heart, for some reason. No, Kingsley, it wasn't me. We must have a secret admirer."
"Or a secret opponent. Don't pass this one on."
*****
"Let me guess. You want to know if I put the passwords in the crosswords and made a profit from the Prophet?"
"All right, Tonks." He eyed his grinning ex-colleague in exasperation. "I suppose Remus told you?"
"Of course." She winced slightly as the baby kicked. "Come off it, Kingsley. There are plenty of things I'm good at, but literary legerdemain isn't one of them. It was as much as I could ever do to write a decent case report."
He snorted. "Nobody has ever written a decent case report. You must know I have to ask. You'd have been suspicious if you'd been the one to notice, and I dread to think what Mad-Eye would have said."
She smiled, rather sadly. "Probably something like, oh, I don't know, 'Constant vigilance'? Yes, it's suspicious, and I'd like to know who it is too, just for my own peace of mind. But it's not me, and I'm sure it's not Remus." She lowered herself gingerly into a chair, knocking a cushion onto the floor as she did so. "I hope the waters don't break while we're on-air -- that would really be embarrassing. I'd never hear the last of it from our beloved technical advisers." She grinned. "Isn't it about time we got them in front of a magical microphone? I expected the problem to be keeping them away."
Kingsley shook his head. "They're too exposed with a shop on Diagon Alley. Even their best friend told them no."
"Right -- well, try your questions on them and see what they say ..."
*****
"The crossword, Royal? Us?"
"We're too busy to go around setting crosswords."
"We have enough trouble working out the answers ..."
"... let alone the questions!"
"I did finish one once, remember? Last year about this time ..."
"Verity was stuck on the last clue and you had a bright idea for once, you mean?"
"Hey, I often have bright ideas!"
"Well, sometimes, although we both know who's the real brains of this outfit ..."
"All right, lads, that's enough." Kingsley held up a hand to stop the flow of banter washing over him. Both twins were full of bright ideas -- but he couldn't help thinking Tonks might be right. They were natural performers who craved an audience. "This might be serious, or it might not. I don't like not knowing. Was it either of you?"
"Can't help you, mate," said Fred, sobering slightly. "So we have a well-wisher?"
"Or an ill-wisher," pointed out George.
"True. Maybe Lee knows something about it?"
"I've never seen him do a crossword."
"No, but Potterwatch is his baby first and foremost, after all."
"He hasn't said anything to us. Have you talked to him yet?"
"He's the next on my list," said Kingsley grimly as the twins finally let him get a word in edgeways.
*****
"Someone's been publishing the Potterwatch passwords in the crossword?" Lee Jordan gaped at Kingsley; he sounded as if he couldn't decide if this deserved indignation or admiration. "Do people know about this?"
"I'm not sure," said Kingsley, observing him carefully. "You haven't been attempting a little unorthodox publicity, have you?"
"No! There wouldn't be much point in having a password if we told everybody what it was, would there?"
"Exactly." He had to admit to himself that it wasn't much of a security measure, but it helped keep them out of the firing line and created a pleasingly clandestine air that was probably of service in attracting an audience -- if they could find the programme. At least the Death Eaters would struggle to find it too ...
"Do you think it's a bit counterproductive, maybe?" asked Lee, echoing his thoughts. The younger man seemed pensive; the show was his baby, his original idea, and he put far more into it than any of the others. " I mean, people have to be able to tune in. And they never know for sure when we'll be on, it's got to be easy for them to miss one and then not know how to find us again. Harry might not even be aware that we're supporting him!"
Kingsley sighed. The war had put a stop to a promising career on the Wizarding Wireless Network before it had really got started, much as it had brought his own Auror career to a screeching halt. He understood exactly why Lee would feel that way, but he didn't dare encourage him. "Lee, if we broadcast openly, it's a direct challenge to the Ministry -- or rather, their new masters. They'll have to make it a higher priority to come after us, or else look bad. They still might. It's what happened to The Quibbler, and that was when they were still trying to pretend everything was under control." Lee looked sceptical, and Kingsley added, "Until Harry, Ron, and Hermione need help, we can't afford to invite open battle. We don't have the strength for more than one good fight. As long as Potterwatch looks like a small underground show broadcast on the run, they're not going to put very much effort into suppressing it."
"It is a small underground show broadcast on the run, mate. That's the trouble."
"Well, let's hope it stays that way for a while. Remember, we tend to pick passwords that have something to do with the Order. If I can notice, I'm sure the Death Eaters can."
Lee snorted. "You reckon they're bright enough to work it out?"
Kingsley flashed him a reproving glance. "Some of them, yes, of course, if they're in the habit of doing the crossword. Severus Snape, I would imagine. Rookwood. Malfoy. That's why I don't like this. They can find out who 'Wise Owl' is by simply threatening the Daily Prophet."
"Good point." Lee scowled. "It's a pity you're not an Auror anymore. You could have found out."
Kingsley nodded. "Now there's a thought."
*****
"You'd like to see who, Auror, er ..."
"Holmes. I wish to see whichever member of your staff deals with payments to contributors. At your earliest convenience, please. No, make that my earliest convenience." Kingsley spoke with a coldness he had often found effective in spurring recalcitrant officials into action when he actually was an Auror. He didn't see why it wouldn't now, when he was merely pretending.
"Yes sir!" The clerk scurried off, and Kingsley watched him go with a sudden touch of regret. Although he approved on principle of Auror credentials inspiring respect, the man's borderline terror seemed excessive. He'd positively flinched when shown the fake identification for 'John Holmes', and he suspected that meant the Auror Office had been seriously corrupted since Voldemort's takeover of the Ministry. Even if they won the war, they would have a lot of work to do to rebuild from scratch witrh reliable people ...
"This way, sir. I'm terribly sorry to keep you waiting, sir."
Kingsley broke off his musings as the clerk escorted him to the desk of a middle-aged witch in austere grey robes, and departed in relief when dismissed. The witch looked him up and down with a disapproving eye. "Don't you people ever leave us alone?" she snapped. Evidently she was made of sterner stuff, and on the whole Kingsley approved. "What have we done now?"
He smiled at her. A touch of charm might work better. "I'm interested in your crossword compiler, madam, believe it or not. For reasons which I'm afraid I can't divulge -- you know, if I told you I'd have to kill you, that sort of thing -- I'd like to know who 'Wise Owl' is."
"I wouldn't be surprised if you killed us anyway, these days," she replied with a grimace, and Kingsley's face fell. She added, with vindictive satisfaction, "Anyway, the answer's the same as it's always been: I don't know. Cuffe himself doesn't know. I couldn't tell him, I can't tell you, either. If you ever find out you will let us know, won't you?"
"You must have some idea!" he said, taken aback.
"Well, we don't. Why must we?"
"You mean to say you just publish pieces somebody hands you without knowing who wrote them?"
She shrugged. "Why not? That's what Cuffe always did with anything you Ministry lot sent him." Kingsley couldn't in all honesty argue with that. "Whoever it is sent us a sample batch of crosswords on spec, and since we happened to be short of a compiler after old Bode went doolally and then popped his clogs, we were willing to go along when they asked for anonymity."
"I see." Kingsley considered this for a moment or two. "But in that case, how do you pay them? I assume you do pay your contributors? Or do you avoid that if you can get away with it?"
"Of course we pay them!" Indignation seemed to loosen her tongue a little. "This isn't The Quibbler! It doesn't pay very much, true -- five Galleons a crossword -- but it's all gold, isn't it? We were told to send correspondence to some address up north and have the owl just drop it down the chimney. That includes payments, of course. We send the owls out around the end of the month, and that's all I know of it. I assume they get the money -- we've never had a complaint about it going missing, and they've been sending in crosswords for the past couple of years, so it's no skin off my nose if they don't."
Kingsley pricked up his ears at that. "End of the month, you say? Then the next payment must be nearly due. When exactly?"
The woman glared at him with considerable dislike, but reached into her desk and pulled out a ledger. "Here. See? The day after tomorrow. What has the poor wretch done to offend the Aurors? Set clues you couldn't solve?"
"I hope not," said Kingsley absently, making a note of the address. It meant nothing to him. "Thank you for your time."
He tactfully ignored her loud snort and left before anyone could ask him awkward questions of their own.
*****
The address to which the payments were sent was on the outskirts of Manchester, and Kingsley wasn't impressed when he arrived for a preliminary reconnaissance. It was a run-down semi-detached house in a run-down semi-abandoned neighbourhood -- but it did have a small back garden, with a conveniently hidden spot behind a shed that was suitable for Apparition, doubtless arranged for that very purpose. When he tried the standard Auror tests he found that there were anti-Apparition spells on the house itself, and some basic locking charms on the doors that wouldn't be hard to overcome magically, but would doubtless keep out all but the most persistent Muggle burglars. It was deserted -- indeed, it had that indefinable feel of not having been lived in for some time.
Working with considerable caution, Kingsley used a strong Unlocking Charm on the back door and edged inside, but a quick look around only confirmed the outward impression. He made a tour of inspection to make sure; the house was sparsely furnished, and there was a thick layer of dust over everything, with marks around the fireplace which might be due to owls dropping letters down the chimney. Other than that, there were a few pawprints and scuffled tracks that suggested rats had managed to find a way past the protections, as they so often did.
He sighed. If he still had a team and legal authority he might have been able to do more, but even so developed Auror instinct told him that he wasn't likely to get anything useful from the house itself. The only plan that presented itself was to camp out there in a couple of days time and watch to see if anything happened; after all, someone had evidently come to pick up the money.
He made sure to pick up the paper the following morning, and noted that 'Wise Owl' had been busy again. The password for the next programme was there as part of a double clue for 24 across and 3 down: Subject of life and lies told by a bulbous meddler (5,10). That little jibe only increased Kingsley's desire to know what lay behind it.
The crack as he Apparated in the following day sounded appallingly loud in the row of quiet back gardens -- he heard the shocked hiss of a very disgruntled-sounding local cat and the flapping of wings as several pigeons took flight -- but he was only interested in whether it had been heard by a human. He made another hasty survey of the property with Homenum revelio, and to his relief found it still empty. He Disillusioned himself and stepped into the living-room, his brow furrowed as he noted that slightly more dust had been disturbed. That could just be the rats, but to be on the safe side he hid in the shadows behind a tall clock in the corner near the old fireplace.
Kingsley had grown used to long waits in his Auror career -- not least in the hunt for Sirius; towards the end he and his team had spent many a night waiting for their quarry outside houses where Kingsley knew full well Sirius would not appear. Alone, though, the near-silence was rather unnerving; every creak from the floorboards sounded like someone sneaking in through the door or window. Each time he heard something he swept the house again with Homenum revelio spells, but there was no-one there. At least it broke the tedium.
Finally, there was a noise from the chimney. Kingsley looked up to see a small package falling into the empty grate, and immediately became fully alert as he waited to see what, if anything, would happen.
Something certainly happened, although it wasn't what he expected.
With an almighty bang that sounded even louder after the quiet of the preceding few hours, the back door of the house was blasted in. Kingsley swore as he realised he hadn't checked outside the house -- he must be getting rusty! -- but at least that hadn't alerted anyone to his presence. His first Stunning Spell flew towards the men charging in before he had time to think, and there was a pleasing clunk as one of them hit the floor -- but there were two more behind him, and Kingsley only just blocked their counter-curses in time.
The next thirty seconds were a blur as he exchanged spells with his opponents, finally managing to blast a section of the ceiling down on top of them and use the confusion to cover his retreat to the hallway. As he left he glanced back briefly at the fireplace, and paused momentarily in astonishment; the letter had gone, but he had no time to speculate on causes. There would be guards to tackle on the front door too.
As it turned out, there were and there weren't.
The attackers had indeed stationed two of their number outside to head off any escape by that route, but by the time he reached the door they were both unconscious. Kingsley observed without surprise that one had a Dark Mark on his forearm. The front door had been blasted off its hinges too, and as he reached it he heard the familiar crack of Apparition from the street. He didn't linger, following the example or his unexpected benefactor and Disapparating immediately as soon as he was out of range of the house's protective spells. The Obliviators were going to be working overtime.
*****
It was a few days before Kingsley judged it safe to meet with the rest of the core Potterwatch team. Indeed, the first suitable opportunity came when they Apparated one by one into their makeshift studio in the now-abandoned shell of Dedalus Diggle's house, which had proven as good a location as any once protective spells had been put in place. In a grim tone, he outlined what had happened in Manchester to Remus and Tonks, Fred and George, and Lee Jordan, who listened in shocked silence.
"The Death Eaters must have expected that someone would be waiting inside the house to pick up the money, and didn't want to give themselves away by casting a spell until the owl arrived," said Tonks when he finished. "Makes sense, I suppose. We might have done the same thing -- well, you know. Back when we that was our job."
"Did you recognise any of them?" asked George.
"One or two. The man I saw the Dark Mark on is called Cornfoot, I think -- that's a new name, he was a minor official at the Ministry when I knew him -- and I'm fairly sure one of those I fought was Goyle. Neither of them part of the inner circle, though, so it clearly wasn't top priority for them."
Fred nodded. "Did they recognise you, mate?"
"Of course not, I was Disillusioned," he snapped. He took a deep breath -- he'd been feeling fraught lately, doubtless because of this investigation, but there was no point in taking it out on his friends -- and added more calmly, "It's a basic precaution. Not quite as good as Harry's Invisibility Cloak, but usually good enough. And since I'm a wanted man anyway, it doesn't really matter if they recognised me, does it?"
Everybody looked abashed by that. "Who Stunned the Death Eaters at the front door?" asked Remus after a moment, as the twins busied themselves with setting up the equipment.
"I don't know," said Kingsley shortly. "I don't suppose any of you have something you'd like to share with the meeting?" There was a chorus of indignant denials. "I didn't think so," he added in resignation.
"You didn't see who they were at all then, mate?" asked Lee hesitantly. "I mean, do you have any idea?"
"Other than the obvious suggestion that it was our mystery compiler? No. I didn't see anyone. But I was rather distracted once the Death Eaters came in."
"What about the letter, though?" asked Tonks. "That's the thing that sounds most suspicious to me, especially as you didn't detect anyone inside the house. Did someone Vanish it? Summon it? Or did it just get disintegrated by a spell during the fight?"
Kingsley considered this. "I'm fairly sure nothing got through my shields to the fireplace. And I don't remember any spells went past me from the other door, although it was hard to tell in the confusion."
"Must have been somebody pretty good, at any rate," said George as he unpacked the miniaturised microphones and restored them to full size with a flick of his wand.
"Yeah, if they took out two Death Eaters without breaking stride," added Fred, looking up from his job of enchanting the aerial.
"They'd have surprise, though," said Tonks. "That really helps. And a lot of Death Eaters aren't that good in a fight."
"Not to one of us, maybe," said Remus. "But that's two ex-Aurors, one ex-Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, and three, er, inventive youngsters."
"That's us," said Fred and George in unison. "Oh, and him as well."
"Thanks, lads," said Lee, sticking his tongue out at them. "Who tipped them off, anyway?"
"Probably not our unknown crossword setter," said Tonks thoughtfully. "At least, not intentionally. It seems to have been as much of a surprise to them as it was to Kingsley."
He nodded. Other than a tip-off, there were really only two other likely answers, neither of them palatable. "I suppose they might have worked it out the same way I did, in which case our broadcasts may be compromised. The woman on the desk at the Daily Prophet said others had asked who it was. Or the paper could simply have reported my visit to the Ministry -- I wouldn't put it past them. That would have put the cat among the pixies even if the Death Eaters hadn't worked it out for themselves."
"Do you think they'll be coming after us next, then?" asked Lee.
His question was soon answered. The front door rattled, and they could hear muttered conversation outside. "Is this the place?" demanded someone in a harsh voice.
*****
A great and immediate calm fell on the Potterwatch studio.
The person who replied to the demand sounded extremely nervous. "It was the address we were given, sir." The voice was vaguely familiar to Kingsley, and after a moment or two he realised with a sinking feeling who it was -- a junior member of the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol. He'd once worked with the man on a case ... a few years before, when they were both on the same side.
"It's that idiot Diggle's place, all right." A third voice, this one impatient. It too sounded vaguely familiar, and again he had to think to get it: he'd last heard it shouting curses at him in the house in Manchester. "He was definitely a member of that Order, according to our precious Severus, but no-one's seen hide nor hair of him since July. Probably ran away."
"First sensible thing he's ever done, then," said the harsh-voiced man.
The Potterwatch team exchanged infuriated glances. Lee made a broad sweeping gesture around the house and mouthed "Can they detect us?" and Kingsley shook his head and moved his hands in a gesture of negation. "Not unless we cast a spell," he mouthed back ...
"Homenum revelio!" said a new voice, and everyone winced, gripping their wands more tightly -- but the defences held, and Kingsley felt nothing wash over him. "Doesn't seem to be anyone here now." Kingsley exchanged grim looks with Tonks; this voice was easily recognisable as a full Auror, a former colleague they both knew well. He seemed to have put job security before actual fighting of Dark wizards. Even after months on the run, it stung more than Kingsley would have expected.
"The signal definitely came from round here," insisted the impatient one. The door rattled violently again as he shook the handle. "This was one of their houses. Where else would they bloody be?"
"Maybe they only come here when they want to broadcast?" That was the nervous Patroller, sounding as if he wished he were almost anywhere else, or at least in different company.
"What? Yeah, probably," agreed the harsh-voiced man, who seemed impatient with their task. "Well, they're about due for another session, but there's no sense in us getting our arses numb standing around waiting for them. You two! You're supposed to know detection spells. Set them up to warn us as soon as they start broadcasting, and we'll Apparate straight here and get the bastards. We're pretty sure who they are, we just haven't caught them at it yet."
Kingsley listened carefully as the spells were cast. As far as he could tell, they were no more than the standard spells used by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, but they seemed depressingly effective when you were on the receiving end. One of the twins tentatively raised their wand, but Tonks shook her head furiously. Kingsley was relieved; he didn't dare use any magic in case it triggered something. Remus was frozen in place, stealing agonised glances at his pregnant wife, while Lee just looked around the studio with the miserable expression of someone about to leave their childhood home for good.
They waited until they heard the sounds of people outside Disapparating, then Kingsley motioned for the others to tiptoe across and join him in the centre of the room. "I wouldn't put it past them to leave a guard, whatever they say," he murmured. "How long will it take to pick up the equipment and get out of here?"
The twins looked at each other. "About a minute, if we all take something."
"Yeah, most of it's still miniaturised."
"Good. Let's do that, then everyone leaves at once. Ready? Three, two, one, go!"
Kingsley moved to cover their retreat if necessary, while the rest of the Potterwatch team gabbled Reducio spells as they worked feverishly to pack up the studio. He'd hoped that the sudden tripping of the spell alarms so soon after they were cast might catch their opponents napping, but they were out of luck there. It was no more than thirty seconds before they heard the first crack outside, rapidly followed by others, and then astonished and irritated voices outside the front door arguing about tactics.
"Done!" hissed Lee.
"GO!"
Kingsley hung back to reinforce the defensive shields and give the others a few precious extra seconds to grab equipment and Apparate away as one. He himself made it out of the house just moments before this door too was blasted in.
Subtlety did not seem to be the forte of this particular group of Death Eaters.
*****
The next few days were frustrating. None of them dared to have much contact with the others until they were sure they had not been followed, nor watched any more than was usual. It was a full week later when Kingsley finally received a Patronus from Fred to tell him that he had found a safe place for the inquest. He, Lee, and the Lupins Apparated directly into the home of the twins' thoroughly disgruntled great-aunt, and hastily made their way to a spare bedroom.
"I hope you appreciate the warm welcome, everyone," said Fred, closing the door on Muriel's final cutting comment. "It's rare to find such old-fashioned courtesy in these modern degenerate days, isn't it?"
"We needed safe," said Kingsley with a shrug. "I think we can put up with old-fashioned."
"Yeah, this place is about as safe as it gets," said Lee darkly, with a glance at the door. "No Death Eater would dare to cross Muriel."
"Don't knock it, we might need it as a hideout one of these days," added George, using a spell called Muffliato he said he'd learnt from Ron to discourage her from eavesdropping. "So, what do we do for a studio now, then?"
"More to the point, how did they find the last one?" demanded Lee, who sounded as if he considered that a personal insult.
"They'll always be able to trace the general source of the broadcasts, given time," explained George, "even though they couldn't pin it down exactly with all the protection charms we put on the place."
"Will we be able to use the house again?"
Fred shook his head in regret. "Sorry, mate. Not with those detection spells of theirs, right, Kingsley?"
"Right. The protections have to be negated while we're actually broadcasting, and the spells they used will alert them as soon as we start. It took them less than a minute to get there."
"Well, where do we go, then?" asked Lee. "We can't just give up now, we've got to find somewhere! What about that other one who went with Diggle -- something Jones, wasn't it? Does she have a house?"
"Yes, but that won't help us if they have the sense to use the same spells on anywhere else belonging to an absent Order member," said Kingsley.
"We'd be unwise to risk it," said Remus.
"How about this place?" asked Tonks. "It's still got all the protections we put on it when we moved Harry."
Both the twins blanched. "She'll love that," muttered Fred.
"Can we be sure we won't be betrayed again, though?" asked Remus. He cast an apologetic look at the twins. "I know Muriel's family to you ..."
"We've all got our embarrassing relatives," said George.
"... but you wouldn't exactly call her a Dumbledore supporter, and she likes to gossip."
"You're not kidding," said Fred, wincing. "Does it matter? They seem to know who we are anyway."
"We all use aliases," objected Lee.
George shook his head. "Doesn't take a genius to work it out, though. I mean, 'River' is pretty obvious, and so's 'Royal' if you think about it, and 'Romulus' is a bit of a bloody giveaway to anyone with more general knowledge than a troll. Plenty of people must have recognised your voices, it's just hard to prove."
"Maybe we need some new voices they don't know, then," said Tonks with a grin. "I'm getting a bit too big to squash in between all your charmed kit, anyway. Come on, you can't deny you've been dying to have a go ever since we started."
"You're not wrong," said George with a grin.
"Lee's the Man With The Megaphone, though," added Fred, matching his twin's expression. "He's always been loads better than we are -- only at this one thing, of course." Lee rolled his eyes and made a rude hand gesture in Fred's general direction. "No, seriously, mate, you are. Mind you, we still don't know if we have a leak ..."
Tonks nodded. "What do you think Kingsley? -- er, Kingsley, have you been with us for the last few minutes? Is it safe, do you reckon?"
Kingsley shook himself. "As safe as it ever was. Fred, George, there's no harm in asking your great-aunt if she's willing to let us broadcast from her property -- perhaps outside the main defensive circle, so it doesn't compromise the protections. If she's willing, set the equipment up, check it, and recheck it. Lee, it's up to you to decide who broadcasts -- you're all adults, after all -- but if you want to try a new voice, I might not be able to make the next one."
"Cool," said Lee. "What are you going to do about this crossword thing? Do you mean you've solved the clues?"
He suppressed a smile. "I have an idea. I'm going to pencil it in to see if it fits."
*****
The small cottage on the main road to Hogsmeade, tucked away around the second bend, offered an excellent vantage point to see the comings and goings of the village. The evening after the meeting at Muriel's saw Kingsley standing just inside its gate and watching patiently. This was less dangerous than it sounded; where there would once have been a regular flow of people going about their business, now there were only a hurried, harried few. Disguising himself as the owner of this lonely house was thus an acceptable risk. Potterwatch had been reliably informed that the man had fled the week before and wouldn't be coming back, but with any luck the Death Eaters didn't know that yet.
The wait was again a long one, and Kingsley had almost given up hope when his target appeared, walking at a brisk pace towards the village on their regular constitutional. He let them get a stride or two past the gate and then stepped forward from behind it. "Wise Owl, I believe? Stop right there." 'Wise Owl' froze, and he added, "I'm not with the Death Eaters, as it happens, but I do have you at wandpoint. Into the house, please."
He kept his wand trained as they both stepped through the door into the main room. As his quarry turned towards him with a look that mingled confusion, anger, and trepidation, he waved his wand to resume his normal appearance. This brought a cry of "You!"
"Me," he agreed, stretching. "As the man said, it is no joke when a tall man has to take a foot off his stature for several hours on end."
"Well, it was a solid bit of Transfiguration, I'll give you that," said Minerva McGonagall with a sniff. "I must say, I never expected to see you here with so many Death Eaters about. Although after what happened last week, I'm not entirely surprised to be addressed by that name."
"I'm sure you aren't." Kingsley had not lowered his wand. "Let's check you are who you appear to be, shall we? What was the last occasion we met, and at that time what did you tell me were the last words Albus Dumbledore spoke to you?"
She took a deep breath. "We met in Muggle Edinburgh in late August, when it became clear that Snape was to be appointed Headmaster. You asked me what I would do, and I told you what Albus said the night he died -- that he expected to be away for a few hours on a mission, but if he did not survive he trusted me to do whatever was necessary to shield the students of Hogwarts School from the effects of the war. I seem to remember telling you that I intended to honour that request by staying on and protecting the children to the best of my ability."
Kingsley breathed a small sigh of relief and nodded. "Correct. And now, perhaps we can discuss the Daily Prophet crossword?"
McGonagall looked at him through narrowed eyes. "No. Perhaps now you'd like to prove you're who you appear to be." She paused for a moment and then gave him a wintry smile. "Who did I give you a joint detention with during your first week at Hogwarts, and why?"
Kingsley stared at her for a moment, and then began to chuckle. "Good grief, I'd completely forgotten that. I got into an argument with a Muggle-born boy called, er, Mickey Cook -- can't remember what it was about now, but I do remember him saying that only a darkie would be stupid enough to say whatever it was I said, and I told him that only a Muggle would be stupid enough to care about that. You overheard, tore us both off a strip and gave us a detention together to sort it out."
She nodded, her expression softening. "I gather from the tone of your recent broadcasts that it worked, then."
He laughed in surprise. "I suppose it did, if it comes to that. We were quite friendly afterwards."
McGonagall's face grew grim as he lowered his wand. "I remember Mickey Cook -- only an average student, but always tried hard. He took up a position in one of Bobbin's apothecaries. I don't suppose you know what's become of him this past year?"
"No. I haven't heard." He hesitated; he found it hard to believe that Minerva McGonagall would betray them, but he still needed answers regardless. "Why, Minerva? Why are you telling our passwords to all and sundry? And for that matter, how did you ever get involved in setting crosswords in the first place?"
Her lips twitched. "If you'd ever seen me in the staff room during morning break, you wouldn't ask that. I'd always wondered if I would be any use at setting them instead -- so when I heard on the grapevine that the main compiler had died, I decided to give it a try. Obviously the Prophet liked what I sent them."
"Why the anonymity? And since when did you have a house in Manchester?"
"I had no intention of having people knock on my office door every five minutes asking pathetically for help with the answers," she said in a withering tone. "And the students would have been even worse. The house isn't mine, it belongs to poor Charity Burbage -- or belonged, I never believed Snape's tale of a resignation. She mentioned it to me one day while talking about something completely unrelated -- it came to her from her Muggle grandfather, not that she had any use for it. So I asked her if I could borrow it from time to time. She said yes without really thinking."
"I see ... And the passwords?" That was the really important question.
McGonagall took him aback by answering with a question of her own. "Why are you broadcasting Potterwatch?"
"Why? To give people a bit of hope, of course! To show them there's someone out there on their side, still fighting! Why do you think?"
"Exactly. Did you know that some of your keenest listeners are the students of Hogwarts School?"
"Really?" He felt rather flattered.
"Yes. Many of them -- most of them, in fact -- knew Harry, at least by reputation. They looked up to him. And under the Carrows --" she practically spat the name "-- they've seen things children should never have to see. They of all people need a bit of hope, something to tell them that their friends are all right, that the rest of their lives won't be like this -- and yet half the time they can't listen because they don't know your damn fool passwords!"
Kingsley winced. "It's to keep us protected, Minerva!"
"I'm sure it is. But it makes it dangerous for those members of staff who still remember that the school is supposed to teach its students how to be wizards and witches, not monsters, to do our duty by telling them what they need to know! Which, more than anything else, is whether or not Harry is still out there fighting!"
"And putting the passwords in the clues helps?" he asked sceptically.
"You'd be surprised." She smiled. "I'll admit, the first time it was pure coincidence. I'd already set Man after support heard 'observe' and 'reason', a revelation (8) -- oh, for pity's sake, I'm talking in crossword clues now! -- and then lo and behold, you went and announced it as the password."
Kingsley paused for a moment to think. "Wait a minute, I chose that one -- damn it, that was the first time I was asked to pick it!" He couldn't help but laugh. "I was stuck for a moment, then I remembered the morning crossword and decided that answer would be as good as any!"
She started to laugh too, and this time they couldn't stop, as Kingsley roared and McGonagall had to clutch onto the mantelpiece for support. It was just too perfect. "It's your own fault, then!" she managed to gasp. "I came across some students whispering about how easy it was to miss a programme, and then it was ten times harder to find the next one because they didn't know the password. Of course, they stopped when they heard me coming -- terrified it was Alecto or Amycus, no doubt. I didn't know what to say. Then I saw which page Ernie Macmillan had the paper open to, and had a flash of inspiration. 'I see you haven't solved the crossword yet,' I said, and told him the answer to 25 across. 'I think that will unlock the door.'"
"Did he get the idea?"
"He must have. A few days later, he stayed behind after class to thank me. Oh, he talked about how knowing the answer to one clue helped you get the next, but we both knew what he really meant. But it gave me an idea, so I went straight to my office and reworked my latest to include, erm, oh yes -- Heroine famous for planting flowers in greenhouse? (4,6). Remember that one? Nice and easy. When I saw students who could barely string together a coherent sentence in an essay discussing the crossword with each other, I knew it was working."
Her certainty almost left him speechless. "How did you make sure you didn't miss one?" he asked weakly. "You must have school duties!"
"Of course." McGonagall seemed rather pleased with herself. "But then I remembered that little house-elf friend of Harry's. He was more than happy to check for me every evening. No Death Eater would think to go down to the kitchens to see what the elves were doing. Far beneath their notice!"
"I see." Kingsley wasn't sure how to proceed. "Do you intend to continue?"
She shrugged. "Why not? The Death Eaters already seem to know, so the risk is much the same whether I do or not. I won't be able to collect the money from the house, but I don't suppose anyone else ever thought to ask Charity about it, and since it was a Muggle property there's nothing down on parchment in Ministry records to connect it to her, let alone me. It helps my students just as Albus asked. Do you really object, Kingsley?"
He thought about it, and decided that under the circumstances, he actually couldn't find it in his heart to complain. "No, I suppose not, Minerva. Not now I know why you're doing it."
"Good," she said with a smile, which quickly turned to curiosity. "And now you have to tell me, how did you work out who I was? Should I be worried that the Death Eaters will follow the same reasoning?"
He grinned, feeling quite pleased with himself. "Up to a point, maybe, but they don't know the one clue that confirmed my guesses and made everything else suddenly click into place. First I started to consider if 'Wise Owl' might be like our own aliases -- not just an anonymous pen-name, but something appropriate to the bearer. And of course it is, it's associated with your mythological namesake ..."
"I knew that little conceit was a bad idea. I should have picked something arbitrary."
"... and although the Death Eaters might follow that line of reasoning, they don't have the background knowledge I do which would help them ink in the answer. I was the only one who cast Homenum revelio in Charity Burbage's house, and so able to deduce that it didn't reveal anyone because you were a cat at the time and picked up the letter that way ..."
"You scared me half to death when I heard you Apparate into the back garden, you do realise? I transformed straight away so I could hide more easily. And then when you came in you were Disillusioned and I couldn't tell who you were. I didn't dare move!"
"... and most important of all, they can't possibly recall a certain incident at Grimmauld Place that made me sure. You see, I suddenly remembered you giving Sirius the answer to an especially difficult clue, and being embarrassed about it for no particularly good reason."
"I had a very good reason. I'd set the clue! It felt like cheating. And I was disappointed to see that none of you remembered it from your Transfiguration lessons! But I couldn't bear to see him struggle like that."
"Exactly." He hesitated. "Minerva -- as we always say on Potterwatch, stay safe. I hope Harry turns up soon so we get a better idea of where we are."
"Don't we all." She looked him up and down. "Do you realise how hard it is to work those passwords in sometimes? Especially when they're the names of people who are currently persona non grata. For heaven's sake, I had to put 'Albus' into the crossword in a way that sounded derogatory! I practically had to hold my nose to do it!"
Kingsley grinned; he couldn't help it. "Well, just so you know, the next password after that will be 'Mad-Eye'. Good luck with that one."
He smiled to himself when she called out "Girl heard the old famous Auror!" just as he Disapparated. That wasn't at all bad for the spur of the moment ...
*****
Six Months Later
Kingsley arrived in the Ministerial suite at half past eight, nodded to his receptionist, shut the office door behind him, and sank gratefully into his chair. With any luck, he would have a good twenty minutes or so of free time before anyone started pestering him for a meeting.
The morning edition of the Daily Prophet had been carefully placed in the middle of his desk, as it was every day. He ignored the fawning report of his latest speech to the Wizengamot which took up most of the front page, and opened the paper at page 21 for Wise Owl's latest offering. Out of habit, he glanced first at the final 'across' clue and burst out laughing.
Slot a belching sky elk into Ministerial position? (8, 11)
"I'll get you for that one, Minerva," he muttered, reaching for his quill with a chuckle.
Additional Notes:
First of all, the answers to those clues just in case:
Transfiguration master got it backwards in pulp magazine article (4) -- Gamp
US city grew from fire (7) -- Phoenix
A nerve net waking you up (9) -- Ennervate
Container opposed to having old Scots right inside it (8) -- Cauldron
Dog star declares he's American to authority (6) -- Sirius
Subject of life and lies told by a bulbous meddler (5,10) -- Albus Dumbledore
Man after support heard 'observe' and 'reason', a revelation (8) -- Prophecy
Heroine famous for planting flowers in greenhouse? (4,6) -- Lily Potter
Slot a belching sky elk into Ministerial position? (8, 11) -- Kingsley Shacklebolt
This was a story idea that I had some time ago -- to be precise, on checking back I see that it was 28th May 2005, when a_t_rain (aka Lady deMimsy) made a comment on the latest chapter of her fic Mordant to the effect that there were very few HP fics in which cryptic crosswords played a part. I seem to have taken that as a challenge. :)
Originally I wanted to actually have a complete crossword to solve as part of the story, but that turned out to be too much effort. The plotline was partly inspired by the Daily Telegraph crossword incident in World War II. When I first mooted this, pre-DH -- pre-HBP, in fact -- Remus would have turned out to be the one compiling crosswords anonymously (to earn a little extra money in one of the few ways a werewolf could), and the answers to clues would actually have been Order codewords -- the crossword being used as a way to alert undercover Order agents to be ready for the Final Battle, a fact told to members on a need-to-know basis. That didn't fit too well with DH, but Potterwatch provided a convenient alternative. However, it felt better to have someone outside the programme team as the mystery compiler, and McGonagall seemed like a good choice.
The idea of Sirius struggling with the crosswords is clearly inspired by Mordant. It's only an aside to the main plot here, so let's call it homage, eh?
Another reference if anyone spotted it: "... it is no joke when a tall man has to take a foot off his stature for several hours on end." -- Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, The Empty House from The Return of Sherlock Holmes. I couldn't resist. To judge by this line and the alias he chose, Kingsley obviously became a fan while posing as a Muggle, indeed one who knows the original Canon well.
I hope the Potterwatch background made sense, because after I looked more closely at it I'm not sure that passwords were a good idea for a programme of that kind (their plot function in DH seems to be solely to keep Harry from hearing news from it until late in the book). The broadcast Harry does hear was apparently the first one that Fred had done -- this also seemed odd, as you'd imagine the twins would be naturals, so I tried to work in an explanation for that as well. Kingsley's meeting with Minerva is shortly before that broadcast -- the 'house calls' by Death Eaters mentioned by Lee came in handy to provide an extra couple of scenes. And since it's also implied that there were others involved in Potterwatch who weren't part of that particular broadcast, I took the liberty of including Tonks as a core team member and assuming that any other people on-air were just guest stars. :)
Rating: PG-13
Length: 8,550 words
First posted: 24th July 2008, in omniocular
Summary: Kingsley Shacklebolt had never expected his habit of solving the Daily Prophet crosswords to uncover a security leak. But when the Potterwatch passwords started to appear in them as answers to clues, he had little choice but to investigate who was behind it ...
Notes: Thanks to lupinslittlesis for some very helpful beta suggestions. Any remaining glitches are my fault.
Translated into Russian by lady_nym here.
Solving the Daily Prophet crossword might seem an odd way to honour a fallen friend and comrade, but from Kingsley Shacklebolt's point of view, it was by far the most appropriate.
He had never expected it would spark an investigation into a security leak in Potterwatch.
Then again, he had never expected Sirius Black to become a close personal friend, either, but that was why he'd developed the habit of crossword solving. Naturally, Sirius had been deeply suspicious of the man who had spent two years trying to return him to the cold embrace of the Dementors. Equally, Kingsley himself had found it awkward to deal with someone he had regarded as a desperate renegade. They had bonded, oddly enough, over Sirius's love for solving the crosswords in copies of the Prophet left at Order headquarters, which he read with a growled comment that it was the only thing in them that wasn't a lie. Kingsley soon realised, though, that Sirius was finding them hard to do -- which he naturally put down to being out of practice, although Kingsley wasn't fooled. He had seen far too many prisoners struggle after release from Azkaban.
So he made it into a sort of game to see who could get the most clues. Remus Lupin quickly caught on to what he was doing, and would chip in with the occasional answer, as would Albus Dumbledore (with a twinkle in his eye that said he'd got it a long time ago) and Nymphadora Tonks (with a cheery grin that said she'd only just worked it out and was determined to let everyone know). Even Minerva McGonagall, on one of her occasional visits, was eventually prevailed upon to offer the answer to one clue requiring knowledge of her field -- Transfiguration master got it backwards in pulp magazine article (4) -- which had stumped everyone else present. As Sirius's former Head of House it clearly embarrassed her to see him struggle. It brought back memories Kingsley had forgotten he had -- of a handsome, carefree young man at Hogwarts, sitting at the Gryffindor table with one hand scribbling answers and the other steadily conveying a stack of toast to his mouth, and almost always finishing both tasks before it was time to leave for lessons.
After the battle in the Department of Mysteries, it had seemed only fitting to keep up the tradition. Kingsley had become glad of it -- in the desert that wizarding Britain had become in the wake of Dumbledore's murder, the crossword was an oasis of normality. As a fugitive, there was little he could do to fight back directly against the takeover of the Ministry. He sometimes thought that his morning routine with the paper and his role on Potterwatch were all that kept him sane.
As Kingsley settled down with the latest copy of the Daily Prophet on the table in front of him, he had no reason to suspect that the two were about to become connected. He dashed off the first few clues quickly enough -- US city grew from fire (7), very easy, A nerve net to wake you up (9), pretty straightforward, and Container against having old Scots right inside it (8), one he had to think about -- then winced slightly as he caught sight of 23 across, Dog star declares he's American to authority (6). His friend would have been quite chuffed to see that one appear. He'd chosen his name as the latest Potterwatch password for the same sort of reason ...
Kingsley paused with his quill hovering above the first square. He had a feeling he was missing something. But what? There was no reason why the password shouldn't be an answer to a crossword clue. Surely it was a coincidence?
That thought seemed worryingly familiar.
Then it hit him. This latest password was only the second he'd chosen personally; usually, he paid little attention to them -- after all, he was appearing on the programme, he didn't need a password. But he remembered tackling previous clues and thinking vaguely that he'd heard them somewhere else recently.
Fortunately, he had all the daily papers for the past few months filed away, as an easily consultable record of the idiocies the Ministry were putting out. It was sometimes possible to make sense of an earlier article in the light of a later one, if you read between the lines with a practised eye. It was rather like solving a cryptic clue in its own right. He opened them to the crossword pages, found the list of Potterwatch passwords he'd scribbled down for reference on a piece of paper charmed to look like a shopping list to anyone else, and compared the two.
The results were disquieting.
Every time a new password was announced, it would appear as an answer in the Daily Prophet crossword within a few days. The interval wasn't fixed, nor was the number of the clue, but it was always the final 'across' clue, whatever that happened to be. And although it was hard to tell, he had the impression that those clues were slightly easier than average.
He sat back to consider the matter. The Potterwatch passwords were a strange kind of secret, really. On the one hand, the programme team wanted everyone who might need a bit of hope to be able to tune in, to show them there was someone out there on their side, still fighting. On the other hand, they weren't supposed to be handed out to all and sundry, in case Death Eaters or their fellow travellers tuned in and heard something they shouldn't. They didn't announce the times of the broadcasts for the same reason. It might be a Potterwatch sympathiser who was doing it, of course ... or it might equally well be an enemy.
Or it might be pure coincidence. The Muggle Prime Minister had told him of such things happening in wars, but he wasn't sure he believed it in this case. These weren't just random words that had been used as passwords, they were the current passwords appearing shortly after issue. It surely meant that the compiler was making a deliberate effort to insert them ... whoever the compiler was.
He checked the papers carefully, but the majority of the crosswords -- and all of those containing passwords -- appeared under the thoroughly bland generic alias of 'Wise Owl', and he had no idea if that name represented one person or a committee.
Kingsley scowled. Regrettably, the primary suspects had to be his fellow broadcasters. Before doing anything else, it would be wise to have a quiet talk with them about the importance of keeping colleagues informed.
*****
"Remus, could I have a word?"
"Of course, Kingsley. What about?"
"Have you seen any of the Daily Prophet crosswords recently?"
Remus's face took on an oddly closed expression. "No," he said shortly. "Why?"
Kingsley explained what he had discovered, watching Remus's face carefully. "Clearly someone who knows the passwords is putting them into the crossword," he finished. "Wouldn't you agree?"
His friend's expression seemed innocently puzzled, although with Remus it was often hard to tell. "Couldn't it be a coincidence?"
"Do you really believe that?"
"No. No, I suppose not." Remus ran a hand through his greying hair. "Damn. That's not good."
He really had no choice but to ask the direct question. "It wasn't you, by any chance?"
Remus turned away. "No. Actually, I haven't so much as looked at a Daily Prophet crossword since our little expedition to the Department of Mysteries. Haven't had the heart, for some reason. No, Kingsley, it wasn't me. We must have a secret admirer."
"Or a secret opponent. Don't pass this one on."
*****
"Let me guess. You want to know if I put the passwords in the crosswords and made a profit from the Prophet?"
"All right, Tonks." He eyed his grinning ex-colleague in exasperation. "I suppose Remus told you?"
"Of course." She winced slightly as the baby kicked. "Come off it, Kingsley. There are plenty of things I'm good at, but literary legerdemain isn't one of them. It was as much as I could ever do to write a decent case report."
He snorted. "Nobody has ever written a decent case report. You must know I have to ask. You'd have been suspicious if you'd been the one to notice, and I dread to think what Mad-Eye would have said."
She smiled, rather sadly. "Probably something like, oh, I don't know, 'Constant vigilance'? Yes, it's suspicious, and I'd like to know who it is too, just for my own peace of mind. But it's not me, and I'm sure it's not Remus." She lowered herself gingerly into a chair, knocking a cushion onto the floor as she did so. "I hope the waters don't break while we're on-air -- that would really be embarrassing. I'd never hear the last of it from our beloved technical advisers." She grinned. "Isn't it about time we got them in front of a magical microphone? I expected the problem to be keeping them away."
Kingsley shook his head. "They're too exposed with a shop on Diagon Alley. Even their best friend told them no."
"Right -- well, try your questions on them and see what they say ..."
*****
"The crossword, Royal? Us?"
"We're too busy to go around setting crosswords."
"We have enough trouble working out the answers ..."
"... let alone the questions!"
"I did finish one once, remember? Last year about this time ..."
"Verity was stuck on the last clue and you had a bright idea for once, you mean?"
"Hey, I often have bright ideas!"
"Well, sometimes, although we both know who's the real brains of this outfit ..."
"All right, lads, that's enough." Kingsley held up a hand to stop the flow of banter washing over him. Both twins were full of bright ideas -- but he couldn't help thinking Tonks might be right. They were natural performers who craved an audience. "This might be serious, or it might not. I don't like not knowing. Was it either of you?"
"Can't help you, mate," said Fred, sobering slightly. "So we have a well-wisher?"
"Or an ill-wisher," pointed out George.
"True. Maybe Lee knows something about it?"
"I've never seen him do a crossword."
"No, but Potterwatch is his baby first and foremost, after all."
"He hasn't said anything to us. Have you talked to him yet?"
"He's the next on my list," said Kingsley grimly as the twins finally let him get a word in edgeways.
*****
"Someone's been publishing the Potterwatch passwords in the crossword?" Lee Jordan gaped at Kingsley; he sounded as if he couldn't decide if this deserved indignation or admiration. "Do people know about this?"
"I'm not sure," said Kingsley, observing him carefully. "You haven't been attempting a little unorthodox publicity, have you?"
"No! There wouldn't be much point in having a password if we told everybody what it was, would there?"
"Exactly." He had to admit to himself that it wasn't much of a security measure, but it helped keep them out of the firing line and created a pleasingly clandestine air that was probably of service in attracting an audience -- if they could find the programme. At least the Death Eaters would struggle to find it too ...
"Do you think it's a bit counterproductive, maybe?" asked Lee, echoing his thoughts. The younger man seemed pensive; the show was his baby, his original idea, and he put far more into it than any of the others. " I mean, people have to be able to tune in. And they never know for sure when we'll be on, it's got to be easy for them to miss one and then not know how to find us again. Harry might not even be aware that we're supporting him!"
Kingsley sighed. The war had put a stop to a promising career on the Wizarding Wireless Network before it had really got started, much as it had brought his own Auror career to a screeching halt. He understood exactly why Lee would feel that way, but he didn't dare encourage him. "Lee, if we broadcast openly, it's a direct challenge to the Ministry -- or rather, their new masters. They'll have to make it a higher priority to come after us, or else look bad. They still might. It's what happened to The Quibbler, and that was when they were still trying to pretend everything was under control." Lee looked sceptical, and Kingsley added, "Until Harry, Ron, and Hermione need help, we can't afford to invite open battle. We don't have the strength for more than one good fight. As long as Potterwatch looks like a small underground show broadcast on the run, they're not going to put very much effort into suppressing it."
"It is a small underground show broadcast on the run, mate. That's the trouble."
"Well, let's hope it stays that way for a while. Remember, we tend to pick passwords that have something to do with the Order. If I can notice, I'm sure the Death Eaters can."
Lee snorted. "You reckon they're bright enough to work it out?"
Kingsley flashed him a reproving glance. "Some of them, yes, of course, if they're in the habit of doing the crossword. Severus Snape, I would imagine. Rookwood. Malfoy. That's why I don't like this. They can find out who 'Wise Owl' is by simply threatening the Daily Prophet."
"Good point." Lee scowled. "It's a pity you're not an Auror anymore. You could have found out."
Kingsley nodded. "Now there's a thought."
*****
"You'd like to see who, Auror, er ..."
"Holmes. I wish to see whichever member of your staff deals with payments to contributors. At your earliest convenience, please. No, make that my earliest convenience." Kingsley spoke with a coldness he had often found effective in spurring recalcitrant officials into action when he actually was an Auror. He didn't see why it wouldn't now, when he was merely pretending.
"Yes sir!" The clerk scurried off, and Kingsley watched him go with a sudden touch of regret. Although he approved on principle of Auror credentials inspiring respect, the man's borderline terror seemed excessive. He'd positively flinched when shown the fake identification for 'John Holmes', and he suspected that meant the Auror Office had been seriously corrupted since Voldemort's takeover of the Ministry. Even if they won the war, they would have a lot of work to do to rebuild from scratch witrh reliable people ...
"This way, sir. I'm terribly sorry to keep you waiting, sir."
Kingsley broke off his musings as the clerk escorted him to the desk of a middle-aged witch in austere grey robes, and departed in relief when dismissed. The witch looked him up and down with a disapproving eye. "Don't you people ever leave us alone?" she snapped. Evidently she was made of sterner stuff, and on the whole Kingsley approved. "What have we done now?"
He smiled at her. A touch of charm might work better. "I'm interested in your crossword compiler, madam, believe it or not. For reasons which I'm afraid I can't divulge -- you know, if I told you I'd have to kill you, that sort of thing -- I'd like to know who 'Wise Owl' is."
"I wouldn't be surprised if you killed us anyway, these days," she replied with a grimace, and Kingsley's face fell. She added, with vindictive satisfaction, "Anyway, the answer's the same as it's always been: I don't know. Cuffe himself doesn't know. I couldn't tell him, I can't tell you, either. If you ever find out you will let us know, won't you?"
"You must have some idea!" he said, taken aback.
"Well, we don't. Why must we?"
"You mean to say you just publish pieces somebody hands you without knowing who wrote them?"
She shrugged. "Why not? That's what Cuffe always did with anything you Ministry lot sent him." Kingsley couldn't in all honesty argue with that. "Whoever it is sent us a sample batch of crosswords on spec, and since we happened to be short of a compiler after old Bode went doolally and then popped his clogs, we were willing to go along when they asked for anonymity."
"I see." Kingsley considered this for a moment or two. "But in that case, how do you pay them? I assume you do pay your contributors? Or do you avoid that if you can get away with it?"
"Of course we pay them!" Indignation seemed to loosen her tongue a little. "This isn't The Quibbler! It doesn't pay very much, true -- five Galleons a crossword -- but it's all gold, isn't it? We were told to send correspondence to some address up north and have the owl just drop it down the chimney. That includes payments, of course. We send the owls out around the end of the month, and that's all I know of it. I assume they get the money -- we've never had a complaint about it going missing, and they've been sending in crosswords for the past couple of years, so it's no skin off my nose if they don't."
Kingsley pricked up his ears at that. "End of the month, you say? Then the next payment must be nearly due. When exactly?"
The woman glared at him with considerable dislike, but reached into her desk and pulled out a ledger. "Here. See? The day after tomorrow. What has the poor wretch done to offend the Aurors? Set clues you couldn't solve?"
"I hope not," said Kingsley absently, making a note of the address. It meant nothing to him. "Thank you for your time."
He tactfully ignored her loud snort and left before anyone could ask him awkward questions of their own.
*****
The address to which the payments were sent was on the outskirts of Manchester, and Kingsley wasn't impressed when he arrived for a preliminary reconnaissance. It was a run-down semi-detached house in a run-down semi-abandoned neighbourhood -- but it did have a small back garden, with a conveniently hidden spot behind a shed that was suitable for Apparition, doubtless arranged for that very purpose. When he tried the standard Auror tests he found that there were anti-Apparition spells on the house itself, and some basic locking charms on the doors that wouldn't be hard to overcome magically, but would doubtless keep out all but the most persistent Muggle burglars. It was deserted -- indeed, it had that indefinable feel of not having been lived in for some time.
Working with considerable caution, Kingsley used a strong Unlocking Charm on the back door and edged inside, but a quick look around only confirmed the outward impression. He made a tour of inspection to make sure; the house was sparsely furnished, and there was a thick layer of dust over everything, with marks around the fireplace which might be due to owls dropping letters down the chimney. Other than that, there were a few pawprints and scuffled tracks that suggested rats had managed to find a way past the protections, as they so often did.
He sighed. If he still had a team and legal authority he might have been able to do more, but even so developed Auror instinct told him that he wasn't likely to get anything useful from the house itself. The only plan that presented itself was to camp out there in a couple of days time and watch to see if anything happened; after all, someone had evidently come to pick up the money.
He made sure to pick up the paper the following morning, and noted that 'Wise Owl' had been busy again. The password for the next programme was there as part of a double clue for 24 across and 3 down: Subject of life and lies told by a bulbous meddler (5,10). That little jibe only increased Kingsley's desire to know what lay behind it.
The crack as he Apparated in the following day sounded appallingly loud in the row of quiet back gardens -- he heard the shocked hiss of a very disgruntled-sounding local cat and the flapping of wings as several pigeons took flight -- but he was only interested in whether it had been heard by a human. He made another hasty survey of the property with Homenum revelio, and to his relief found it still empty. He Disillusioned himself and stepped into the living-room, his brow furrowed as he noted that slightly more dust had been disturbed. That could just be the rats, but to be on the safe side he hid in the shadows behind a tall clock in the corner near the old fireplace.
Kingsley had grown used to long waits in his Auror career -- not least in the hunt for Sirius; towards the end he and his team had spent many a night waiting for their quarry outside houses where Kingsley knew full well Sirius would not appear. Alone, though, the near-silence was rather unnerving; every creak from the floorboards sounded like someone sneaking in through the door or window. Each time he heard something he swept the house again with Homenum revelio spells, but there was no-one there. At least it broke the tedium.
Finally, there was a noise from the chimney. Kingsley looked up to see a small package falling into the empty grate, and immediately became fully alert as he waited to see what, if anything, would happen.
Something certainly happened, although it wasn't what he expected.
With an almighty bang that sounded even louder after the quiet of the preceding few hours, the back door of the house was blasted in. Kingsley swore as he realised he hadn't checked outside the house -- he must be getting rusty! -- but at least that hadn't alerted anyone to his presence. His first Stunning Spell flew towards the men charging in before he had time to think, and there was a pleasing clunk as one of them hit the floor -- but there were two more behind him, and Kingsley only just blocked their counter-curses in time.
The next thirty seconds were a blur as he exchanged spells with his opponents, finally managing to blast a section of the ceiling down on top of them and use the confusion to cover his retreat to the hallway. As he left he glanced back briefly at the fireplace, and paused momentarily in astonishment; the letter had gone, but he had no time to speculate on causes. There would be guards to tackle on the front door too.
As it turned out, there were and there weren't.
The attackers had indeed stationed two of their number outside to head off any escape by that route, but by the time he reached the door they were both unconscious. Kingsley observed without surprise that one had a Dark Mark on his forearm. The front door had been blasted off its hinges too, and as he reached it he heard the familiar crack of Apparition from the street. He didn't linger, following the example or his unexpected benefactor and Disapparating immediately as soon as he was out of range of the house's protective spells. The Obliviators were going to be working overtime.
*****
It was a few days before Kingsley judged it safe to meet with the rest of the core Potterwatch team. Indeed, the first suitable opportunity came when they Apparated one by one into their makeshift studio in the now-abandoned shell of Dedalus Diggle's house, which had proven as good a location as any once protective spells had been put in place. In a grim tone, he outlined what had happened in Manchester to Remus and Tonks, Fred and George, and Lee Jordan, who listened in shocked silence.
"The Death Eaters must have expected that someone would be waiting inside the house to pick up the money, and didn't want to give themselves away by casting a spell until the owl arrived," said Tonks when he finished. "Makes sense, I suppose. We might have done the same thing -- well, you know. Back when we that was our job."
"Did you recognise any of them?" asked George.
"One or two. The man I saw the Dark Mark on is called Cornfoot, I think -- that's a new name, he was a minor official at the Ministry when I knew him -- and I'm fairly sure one of those I fought was Goyle. Neither of them part of the inner circle, though, so it clearly wasn't top priority for them."
Fred nodded. "Did they recognise you, mate?"
"Of course not, I was Disillusioned," he snapped. He took a deep breath -- he'd been feeling fraught lately, doubtless because of this investigation, but there was no point in taking it out on his friends -- and added more calmly, "It's a basic precaution. Not quite as good as Harry's Invisibility Cloak, but usually good enough. And since I'm a wanted man anyway, it doesn't really matter if they recognised me, does it?"
Everybody looked abashed by that. "Who Stunned the Death Eaters at the front door?" asked Remus after a moment, as the twins busied themselves with setting up the equipment.
"I don't know," said Kingsley shortly. "I don't suppose any of you have something you'd like to share with the meeting?" There was a chorus of indignant denials. "I didn't think so," he added in resignation.
"You didn't see who they were at all then, mate?" asked Lee hesitantly. "I mean, do you have any idea?"
"Other than the obvious suggestion that it was our mystery compiler? No. I didn't see anyone. But I was rather distracted once the Death Eaters came in."
"What about the letter, though?" asked Tonks. "That's the thing that sounds most suspicious to me, especially as you didn't detect anyone inside the house. Did someone Vanish it? Summon it? Or did it just get disintegrated by a spell during the fight?"
Kingsley considered this. "I'm fairly sure nothing got through my shields to the fireplace. And I don't remember any spells went past me from the other door, although it was hard to tell in the confusion."
"Must have been somebody pretty good, at any rate," said George as he unpacked the miniaturised microphones and restored them to full size with a flick of his wand.
"Yeah, if they took out two Death Eaters without breaking stride," added Fred, looking up from his job of enchanting the aerial.
"They'd have surprise, though," said Tonks. "That really helps. And a lot of Death Eaters aren't that good in a fight."
"Not to one of us, maybe," said Remus. "But that's two ex-Aurors, one ex-Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, and three, er, inventive youngsters."
"That's us," said Fred and George in unison. "Oh, and him as well."
"Thanks, lads," said Lee, sticking his tongue out at them. "Who tipped them off, anyway?"
"Probably not our unknown crossword setter," said Tonks thoughtfully. "At least, not intentionally. It seems to have been as much of a surprise to them as it was to Kingsley."
He nodded. Other than a tip-off, there were really only two other likely answers, neither of them palatable. "I suppose they might have worked it out the same way I did, in which case our broadcasts may be compromised. The woman on the desk at the Daily Prophet said others had asked who it was. Or the paper could simply have reported my visit to the Ministry -- I wouldn't put it past them. That would have put the cat among the pixies even if the Death Eaters hadn't worked it out for themselves."
"Do you think they'll be coming after us next, then?" asked Lee.
His question was soon answered. The front door rattled, and they could hear muttered conversation outside. "Is this the place?" demanded someone in a harsh voice.
*****
A great and immediate calm fell on the Potterwatch studio.
The person who replied to the demand sounded extremely nervous. "It was the address we were given, sir." The voice was vaguely familiar to Kingsley, and after a moment or two he realised with a sinking feeling who it was -- a junior member of the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol. He'd once worked with the man on a case ... a few years before, when they were both on the same side.
"It's that idiot Diggle's place, all right." A third voice, this one impatient. It too sounded vaguely familiar, and again he had to think to get it: he'd last heard it shouting curses at him in the house in Manchester. "He was definitely a member of that Order, according to our precious Severus, but no-one's seen hide nor hair of him since July. Probably ran away."
"First sensible thing he's ever done, then," said the harsh-voiced man.
The Potterwatch team exchanged infuriated glances. Lee made a broad sweeping gesture around the house and mouthed "Can they detect us?" and Kingsley shook his head and moved his hands in a gesture of negation. "Not unless we cast a spell," he mouthed back ...
"Homenum revelio!" said a new voice, and everyone winced, gripping their wands more tightly -- but the defences held, and Kingsley felt nothing wash over him. "Doesn't seem to be anyone here now." Kingsley exchanged grim looks with Tonks; this voice was easily recognisable as a full Auror, a former colleague they both knew well. He seemed to have put job security before actual fighting of Dark wizards. Even after months on the run, it stung more than Kingsley would have expected.
"The signal definitely came from round here," insisted the impatient one. The door rattled violently again as he shook the handle. "This was one of their houses. Where else would they bloody be?"
"Maybe they only come here when they want to broadcast?" That was the nervous Patroller, sounding as if he wished he were almost anywhere else, or at least in different company.
"What? Yeah, probably," agreed the harsh-voiced man, who seemed impatient with their task. "Well, they're about due for another session, but there's no sense in us getting our arses numb standing around waiting for them. You two! You're supposed to know detection spells. Set them up to warn us as soon as they start broadcasting, and we'll Apparate straight here and get the bastards. We're pretty sure who they are, we just haven't caught them at it yet."
Kingsley listened carefully as the spells were cast. As far as he could tell, they were no more than the standard spells used by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, but they seemed depressingly effective when you were on the receiving end. One of the twins tentatively raised their wand, but Tonks shook her head furiously. Kingsley was relieved; he didn't dare use any magic in case it triggered something. Remus was frozen in place, stealing agonised glances at his pregnant wife, while Lee just looked around the studio with the miserable expression of someone about to leave their childhood home for good.
They waited until they heard the sounds of people outside Disapparating, then Kingsley motioned for the others to tiptoe across and join him in the centre of the room. "I wouldn't put it past them to leave a guard, whatever they say," he murmured. "How long will it take to pick up the equipment and get out of here?"
The twins looked at each other. "About a minute, if we all take something."
"Yeah, most of it's still miniaturised."
"Good. Let's do that, then everyone leaves at once. Ready? Three, two, one, go!"
Kingsley moved to cover their retreat if necessary, while the rest of the Potterwatch team gabbled Reducio spells as they worked feverishly to pack up the studio. He'd hoped that the sudden tripping of the spell alarms so soon after they were cast might catch their opponents napping, but they were out of luck there. It was no more than thirty seconds before they heard the first crack outside, rapidly followed by others, and then astonished and irritated voices outside the front door arguing about tactics.
"Done!" hissed Lee.
"GO!"
Kingsley hung back to reinforce the defensive shields and give the others a few precious extra seconds to grab equipment and Apparate away as one. He himself made it out of the house just moments before this door too was blasted in.
Subtlety did not seem to be the forte of this particular group of Death Eaters.
*****
The next few days were frustrating. None of them dared to have much contact with the others until they were sure they had not been followed, nor watched any more than was usual. It was a full week later when Kingsley finally received a Patronus from Fred to tell him that he had found a safe place for the inquest. He, Lee, and the Lupins Apparated directly into the home of the twins' thoroughly disgruntled great-aunt, and hastily made their way to a spare bedroom.
"I hope you appreciate the warm welcome, everyone," said Fred, closing the door on Muriel's final cutting comment. "It's rare to find such old-fashioned courtesy in these modern degenerate days, isn't it?"
"We needed safe," said Kingsley with a shrug. "I think we can put up with old-fashioned."
"Yeah, this place is about as safe as it gets," said Lee darkly, with a glance at the door. "No Death Eater would dare to cross Muriel."
"Don't knock it, we might need it as a hideout one of these days," added George, using a spell called Muffliato he said he'd learnt from Ron to discourage her from eavesdropping. "So, what do we do for a studio now, then?"
"More to the point, how did they find the last one?" demanded Lee, who sounded as if he considered that a personal insult.
"They'll always be able to trace the general source of the broadcasts, given time," explained George, "even though they couldn't pin it down exactly with all the protection charms we put on the place."
"Will we be able to use the house again?"
Fred shook his head in regret. "Sorry, mate. Not with those detection spells of theirs, right, Kingsley?"
"Right. The protections have to be negated while we're actually broadcasting, and the spells they used will alert them as soon as we start. It took them less than a minute to get there."
"Well, where do we go, then?" asked Lee. "We can't just give up now, we've got to find somewhere! What about that other one who went with Diggle -- something Jones, wasn't it? Does she have a house?"
"Yes, but that won't help us if they have the sense to use the same spells on anywhere else belonging to an absent Order member," said Kingsley.
"We'd be unwise to risk it," said Remus.
"How about this place?" asked Tonks. "It's still got all the protections we put on it when we moved Harry."
Both the twins blanched. "She'll love that," muttered Fred.
"Can we be sure we won't be betrayed again, though?" asked Remus. He cast an apologetic look at the twins. "I know Muriel's family to you ..."
"We've all got our embarrassing relatives," said George.
"... but you wouldn't exactly call her a Dumbledore supporter, and she likes to gossip."
"You're not kidding," said Fred, wincing. "Does it matter? They seem to know who we are anyway."
"We all use aliases," objected Lee.
George shook his head. "Doesn't take a genius to work it out, though. I mean, 'River' is pretty obvious, and so's 'Royal' if you think about it, and 'Romulus' is a bit of a bloody giveaway to anyone with more general knowledge than a troll. Plenty of people must have recognised your voices, it's just hard to prove."
"Maybe we need some new voices they don't know, then," said Tonks with a grin. "I'm getting a bit too big to squash in between all your charmed kit, anyway. Come on, you can't deny you've been dying to have a go ever since we started."
"You're not wrong," said George with a grin.
"Lee's the Man With The Megaphone, though," added Fred, matching his twin's expression. "He's always been loads better than we are -- only at this one thing, of course." Lee rolled his eyes and made a rude hand gesture in Fred's general direction. "No, seriously, mate, you are. Mind you, we still don't know if we have a leak ..."
Tonks nodded. "What do you think Kingsley? -- er, Kingsley, have you been with us for the last few minutes? Is it safe, do you reckon?"
Kingsley shook himself. "As safe as it ever was. Fred, George, there's no harm in asking your great-aunt if she's willing to let us broadcast from her property -- perhaps outside the main defensive circle, so it doesn't compromise the protections. If she's willing, set the equipment up, check it, and recheck it. Lee, it's up to you to decide who broadcasts -- you're all adults, after all -- but if you want to try a new voice, I might not be able to make the next one."
"Cool," said Lee. "What are you going to do about this crossword thing? Do you mean you've solved the clues?"
He suppressed a smile. "I have an idea. I'm going to pencil it in to see if it fits."
*****
The small cottage on the main road to Hogsmeade, tucked away around the second bend, offered an excellent vantage point to see the comings and goings of the village. The evening after the meeting at Muriel's saw Kingsley standing just inside its gate and watching patiently. This was less dangerous than it sounded; where there would once have been a regular flow of people going about their business, now there were only a hurried, harried few. Disguising himself as the owner of this lonely house was thus an acceptable risk. Potterwatch had been reliably informed that the man had fled the week before and wouldn't be coming back, but with any luck the Death Eaters didn't know that yet.
The wait was again a long one, and Kingsley had almost given up hope when his target appeared, walking at a brisk pace towards the village on their regular constitutional. He let them get a stride or two past the gate and then stepped forward from behind it. "Wise Owl, I believe? Stop right there." 'Wise Owl' froze, and he added, "I'm not with the Death Eaters, as it happens, but I do have you at wandpoint. Into the house, please."
He kept his wand trained as they both stepped through the door into the main room. As his quarry turned towards him with a look that mingled confusion, anger, and trepidation, he waved his wand to resume his normal appearance. This brought a cry of "You!"
"Me," he agreed, stretching. "As the man said, it is no joke when a tall man has to take a foot off his stature for several hours on end."
"Well, it was a solid bit of Transfiguration, I'll give you that," said Minerva McGonagall with a sniff. "I must say, I never expected to see you here with so many Death Eaters about. Although after what happened last week, I'm not entirely surprised to be addressed by that name."
"I'm sure you aren't." Kingsley had not lowered his wand. "Let's check you are who you appear to be, shall we? What was the last occasion we met, and at that time what did you tell me were the last words Albus Dumbledore spoke to you?"
She took a deep breath. "We met in Muggle Edinburgh in late August, when it became clear that Snape was to be appointed Headmaster. You asked me what I would do, and I told you what Albus said the night he died -- that he expected to be away for a few hours on a mission, but if he did not survive he trusted me to do whatever was necessary to shield the students of Hogwarts School from the effects of the war. I seem to remember telling you that I intended to honour that request by staying on and protecting the children to the best of my ability."
Kingsley breathed a small sigh of relief and nodded. "Correct. And now, perhaps we can discuss the Daily Prophet crossword?"
McGonagall looked at him through narrowed eyes. "No. Perhaps now you'd like to prove you're who you appear to be." She paused for a moment and then gave him a wintry smile. "Who did I give you a joint detention with during your first week at Hogwarts, and why?"
Kingsley stared at her for a moment, and then began to chuckle. "Good grief, I'd completely forgotten that. I got into an argument with a Muggle-born boy called, er, Mickey Cook -- can't remember what it was about now, but I do remember him saying that only a darkie would be stupid enough to say whatever it was I said, and I told him that only a Muggle would be stupid enough to care about that. You overheard, tore us both off a strip and gave us a detention together to sort it out."
She nodded, her expression softening. "I gather from the tone of your recent broadcasts that it worked, then."
He laughed in surprise. "I suppose it did, if it comes to that. We were quite friendly afterwards."
McGonagall's face grew grim as he lowered his wand. "I remember Mickey Cook -- only an average student, but always tried hard. He took up a position in one of Bobbin's apothecaries. I don't suppose you know what's become of him this past year?"
"No. I haven't heard." He hesitated; he found it hard to believe that Minerva McGonagall would betray them, but he still needed answers regardless. "Why, Minerva? Why are you telling our passwords to all and sundry? And for that matter, how did you ever get involved in setting crosswords in the first place?"
Her lips twitched. "If you'd ever seen me in the staff room during morning break, you wouldn't ask that. I'd always wondered if I would be any use at setting them instead -- so when I heard on the grapevine that the main compiler had died, I decided to give it a try. Obviously the Prophet liked what I sent them."
"Why the anonymity? And since when did you have a house in Manchester?"
"I had no intention of having people knock on my office door every five minutes asking pathetically for help with the answers," she said in a withering tone. "And the students would have been even worse. The house isn't mine, it belongs to poor Charity Burbage -- or belonged, I never believed Snape's tale of a resignation. She mentioned it to me one day while talking about something completely unrelated -- it came to her from her Muggle grandfather, not that she had any use for it. So I asked her if I could borrow it from time to time. She said yes without really thinking."
"I see ... And the passwords?" That was the really important question.
McGonagall took him aback by answering with a question of her own. "Why are you broadcasting Potterwatch?"
"Why? To give people a bit of hope, of course! To show them there's someone out there on their side, still fighting! Why do you think?"
"Exactly. Did you know that some of your keenest listeners are the students of Hogwarts School?"
"Really?" He felt rather flattered.
"Yes. Many of them -- most of them, in fact -- knew Harry, at least by reputation. They looked up to him. And under the Carrows --" she practically spat the name "-- they've seen things children should never have to see. They of all people need a bit of hope, something to tell them that their friends are all right, that the rest of their lives won't be like this -- and yet half the time they can't listen because they don't know your damn fool passwords!"
Kingsley winced. "It's to keep us protected, Minerva!"
"I'm sure it is. But it makes it dangerous for those members of staff who still remember that the school is supposed to teach its students how to be wizards and witches, not monsters, to do our duty by telling them what they need to know! Which, more than anything else, is whether or not Harry is still out there fighting!"
"And putting the passwords in the clues helps?" he asked sceptically.
"You'd be surprised." She smiled. "I'll admit, the first time it was pure coincidence. I'd already set Man after support heard 'observe' and 'reason', a revelation (8) -- oh, for pity's sake, I'm talking in crossword clues now! -- and then lo and behold, you went and announced it as the password."
Kingsley paused for a moment to think. "Wait a minute, I chose that one -- damn it, that was the first time I was asked to pick it!" He couldn't help but laugh. "I was stuck for a moment, then I remembered the morning crossword and decided that answer would be as good as any!"
She started to laugh too, and this time they couldn't stop, as Kingsley roared and McGonagall had to clutch onto the mantelpiece for support. It was just too perfect. "It's your own fault, then!" she managed to gasp. "I came across some students whispering about how easy it was to miss a programme, and then it was ten times harder to find the next one because they didn't know the password. Of course, they stopped when they heard me coming -- terrified it was Alecto or Amycus, no doubt. I didn't know what to say. Then I saw which page Ernie Macmillan had the paper open to, and had a flash of inspiration. 'I see you haven't solved the crossword yet,' I said, and told him the answer to 25 across. 'I think that will unlock the door.'"
"Did he get the idea?"
"He must have. A few days later, he stayed behind after class to thank me. Oh, he talked about how knowing the answer to one clue helped you get the next, but we both knew what he really meant. But it gave me an idea, so I went straight to my office and reworked my latest to include, erm, oh yes -- Heroine famous for planting flowers in greenhouse? (4,6). Remember that one? Nice and easy. When I saw students who could barely string together a coherent sentence in an essay discussing the crossword with each other, I knew it was working."
Her certainty almost left him speechless. "How did you make sure you didn't miss one?" he asked weakly. "You must have school duties!"
"Of course." McGonagall seemed rather pleased with herself. "But then I remembered that little house-elf friend of Harry's. He was more than happy to check for me every evening. No Death Eater would think to go down to the kitchens to see what the elves were doing. Far beneath their notice!"
"I see." Kingsley wasn't sure how to proceed. "Do you intend to continue?"
She shrugged. "Why not? The Death Eaters already seem to know, so the risk is much the same whether I do or not. I won't be able to collect the money from the house, but I don't suppose anyone else ever thought to ask Charity about it, and since it was a Muggle property there's nothing down on parchment in Ministry records to connect it to her, let alone me. It helps my students just as Albus asked. Do you really object, Kingsley?"
He thought about it, and decided that under the circumstances, he actually couldn't find it in his heart to complain. "No, I suppose not, Minerva. Not now I know why you're doing it."
"Good," she said with a smile, which quickly turned to curiosity. "And now you have to tell me, how did you work out who I was? Should I be worried that the Death Eaters will follow the same reasoning?"
He grinned, feeling quite pleased with himself. "Up to a point, maybe, but they don't know the one clue that confirmed my guesses and made everything else suddenly click into place. First I started to consider if 'Wise Owl' might be like our own aliases -- not just an anonymous pen-name, but something appropriate to the bearer. And of course it is, it's associated with your mythological namesake ..."
"I knew that little conceit was a bad idea. I should have picked something arbitrary."
"... and although the Death Eaters might follow that line of reasoning, they don't have the background knowledge I do which would help them ink in the answer. I was the only one who cast Homenum revelio in Charity Burbage's house, and so able to deduce that it didn't reveal anyone because you were a cat at the time and picked up the letter that way ..."
"You scared me half to death when I heard you Apparate into the back garden, you do realise? I transformed straight away so I could hide more easily. And then when you came in you were Disillusioned and I couldn't tell who you were. I didn't dare move!"
"... and most important of all, they can't possibly recall a certain incident at Grimmauld Place that made me sure. You see, I suddenly remembered you giving Sirius the answer to an especially difficult clue, and being embarrassed about it for no particularly good reason."
"I had a very good reason. I'd set the clue! It felt like cheating. And I was disappointed to see that none of you remembered it from your Transfiguration lessons! But I couldn't bear to see him struggle like that."
"Exactly." He hesitated. "Minerva -- as we always say on Potterwatch, stay safe. I hope Harry turns up soon so we get a better idea of where we are."
"Don't we all." She looked him up and down. "Do you realise how hard it is to work those passwords in sometimes? Especially when they're the names of people who are currently persona non grata. For heaven's sake, I had to put 'Albus' into the crossword in a way that sounded derogatory! I practically had to hold my nose to do it!"
Kingsley grinned; he couldn't help it. "Well, just so you know, the next password after that will be 'Mad-Eye'. Good luck with that one."
He smiled to himself when she called out "Girl heard the old famous Auror!" just as he Disapparated. That wasn't at all bad for the spur of the moment ...
*****
Six Months Later
Kingsley arrived in the Ministerial suite at half past eight, nodded to his receptionist, shut the office door behind him, and sank gratefully into his chair. With any luck, he would have a good twenty minutes or so of free time before anyone started pestering him for a meeting.
The morning edition of the Daily Prophet had been carefully placed in the middle of his desk, as it was every day. He ignored the fawning report of his latest speech to the Wizengamot which took up most of the front page, and opened the paper at page 21 for Wise Owl's latest offering. Out of habit, he glanced first at the final 'across' clue and burst out laughing.
Slot a belching sky elk into Ministerial position? (8, 11)
"I'll get you for that one, Minerva," he muttered, reaching for his quill with a chuckle.
Additional Notes:
First of all, the answers to those clues just in case:
Transfiguration master got it backwards in pulp magazine article (4) -- Gamp
US city grew from fire (7) -- Phoenix
A nerve net waking you up (9) -- Ennervate
Container opposed to having old Scots right inside it (8) -- Cauldron
Dog star declares he's American to authority (6) -- Sirius
Subject of life and lies told by a bulbous meddler (5,10) -- Albus Dumbledore
Man after support heard 'observe' and 'reason', a revelation (8) -- Prophecy
Heroine famous for planting flowers in greenhouse? (4,6) -- Lily Potter
Slot a belching sky elk into Ministerial position? (8, 11) -- Kingsley Shacklebolt
This was a story idea that I had some time ago -- to be precise, on checking back I see that it was 28th May 2005, when a_t_rain (aka Lady deMimsy) made a comment on the latest chapter of her fic Mordant to the effect that there were very few HP fics in which cryptic crosswords played a part. I seem to have taken that as a challenge. :)
Originally I wanted to actually have a complete crossword to solve as part of the story, but that turned out to be too much effort. The plotline was partly inspired by the Daily Telegraph crossword incident in World War II. When I first mooted this, pre-DH -- pre-HBP, in fact -- Remus would have turned out to be the one compiling crosswords anonymously (to earn a little extra money in one of the few ways a werewolf could), and the answers to clues would actually have been Order codewords -- the crossword being used as a way to alert undercover Order agents to be ready for the Final Battle, a fact told to members on a need-to-know basis. That didn't fit too well with DH, but Potterwatch provided a convenient alternative. However, it felt better to have someone outside the programme team as the mystery compiler, and McGonagall seemed like a good choice.
The idea of Sirius struggling with the crosswords is clearly inspired by Mordant. It's only an aside to the main plot here, so let's call it homage, eh?
Another reference if anyone spotted it: "... it is no joke when a tall man has to take a foot off his stature for several hours on end." -- Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, The Empty House from The Return of Sherlock Holmes. I couldn't resist. To judge by this line and the alias he chose, Kingsley obviously became a fan while posing as a Muggle, indeed one who knows the original Canon well.
I hope the Potterwatch background made sense, because after I looked more closely at it I'm not sure that passwords were a good idea for a programme of that kind (their plot function in DH seems to be solely to keep Harry from hearing news from it until late in the book). The broadcast Harry does hear was apparently the first one that Fred had done -- this also seemed odd, as you'd imagine the twins would be naturals, so I tried to work in an explanation for that as well. Kingsley's meeting with Minerva is shortly before that broadcast -- the 'house calls' by Death Eaters mentioned by Lee came in handy to provide an extra couple of scenes. And since it's also implied that there were others involved in Potterwatch who weren't part of that particular broadcast, I took the liberty of including Tonks as a core team member and assuming that any other people on-air were just guest stars. :)