guwobook.cc 
“I’m going to the Ministry,” was all Harry could bring himself to say.
“Well, alright.”
Harry stopped. “That’s it? You have us break into someone’s house to get Bertrice, we proceed to leave her there, and now you’re fine with simply going to the Ministry and having them handle it?”
Malfoy shot Harry a careful look. “There was obviously something very wrong with that girl. You couldn’t help her. Perhaps they can.”
“And you didn’t think to grab her? Apparate out with her? Or were you too busy cooing over that dreadful animal?” Harry pointed to Guinevere, who hissed in response.
“There’s something special about this kneazle. I rather like her.”
“She attacked me.”
“What’s not to like?” There was a satisfied look on Malfoy’s face and it reminded Harry of their time at Hogwarts. He expected the look to morph into an outright sneer but was shocked when Malfoy simply winked at him instead and then turned his attention on the ball of fur in his hands.
Harry bit his lower lip, confused. “Alright then,” he finally managed to say. “I’m going to go tell them what I know now. Actually, you know what? You should tell them.” Harry thought it was a rather ingenious test to prove if Malfoy really had noble intentions. “I’m a person of interest and they’ll just make too many assumptions. It should be you.”
“You’re a person of interest? That would imply that someone, somewhere finds you interesting.”
“Malfoy, will you go or not?”
Malfoy acted as if he didn’t hear him and continued to coo at the kneazle, rubbing her belly as he cradled her like a baby. “I don’t trust the authorities to solve this case,” Malfoy finally said.
Harry rolled his eyes, “But you trust me? We’ve only just met.” The blond didn’t acknowledge Harry’s words. He simply carried on doting on the red devil. Harry gave up and walked the rest of the way to the Edinburgh Main Office.
He’d been there twice before. The first occasion had been under quite dire circumstances. There had been three werewolf attacks in a matter of days and half of the wizarding community in Scotland were in a panic. It was one of the few times Harry had been able to get out into the field with Ron, and though they didn’t do much more than canvas a few neighborhoods, it had felt good to be a part of something again.
Ron had been on loads of missions by then. He’d made his way around the department and got assigned different cases and different partners, and Harry had the suspicion Robards was grooming Ron for a very specific job. Harry might’ve envied Ron from time to time, especially when he found himself being paraded around as the face of the New Ministry. But most of his jealousy boiled down to wishing he could make a difference. Harry wanted Ron to be a successful auror, Merlin, he’d love to be taking directions from Head Auror Weasley someday. In fact, that would be where his envy might stop. Harry didn’t want the responsibility of a managing position. He just wanted an actual bloody job.
You had a job, he thought to himself. And you screwed it up.
That reminded him of the second time he visited the DMLE in Edinburgh. Harry accompanied Robards for a high priority interrogation, one of the last known Death Eaters, too dangerous to be moved.
“I just need you to stand against the wall in the background,” Robards had said before they Flooed to Edinburgh. “Look menacing. We don’t want to screw this up.”
Harry did as he was told, mostly because he was interested to see how Robards approached the situation. It ended up being a fascinating game to watch as Robards picked at the man, whittled his statements down to nothing, cracked open the lies. In what seemed effortless, the Head Auror pulled valuable intel from the man within two hours, and it ended up saving the lives of four curse breakers in a standoff outside Newcastle.
At the time, Harry had been grateful to see a textbook technique executed so well and rather ruthlessly. But as he approached the doors of the DMLE, he realized he’d probably never get a chance at a proper interrogation himself.
“Good morning,” a voice rang. To the left of the entrance, Harry recognized one of the investigators that interviewed him at the hotel. Stramitz, maybe? She was leaning against the wall, casually holding a half gone cigarette. Harry found it an odd coincidence since she was the person he was coming to see.
“I have some information for you,” Harry said, and then regretted it. He kept forgetting he was a questionable low-life and someone the investigators would likely distrust, accuse, or even jail.
Stramitz smiled. “I bet you do.”
Harry followed her through the main entrance, down a crowded hallway filled with preoccupied aurors rushing around, until they reached an office at the back of the building.
“Here we are,” she said and led him inside. He briefly noticed Stramitz’s partner before a familiar figure to the left caught his eye. Harry turned so fast and blinked that he almost fell over.
“Ron?”
His best friend stood next to an empty desk, arms crossed, with a look of hopelessness Harry hadn’t seen on Ron’s face since their school days. He was giving Harry the dejected stare he used to give essays he’d come up short on. “Har—Have you lost your bloody mind?” Ron stammered, and Harry was sure he’d almost said Harry’s name. His suspicion was confirmed when Ron, visibly anxious, added an awkward, “Archie?”
Harry opened his mouth to speak, but he really didn’t know where to start. Had Ron gotten his owl yet? Harry looked between Stramitz and her partner before he decided it was safe to ask. “I sent Mister Wazlib a letter this morning.”
“Well he didn’t get it, mate,” Ron shook his head. He stared at the ground. “These here have some questions for you.”
“I gathered that,” Harry replied.
Stramitz went to stand next to her partner, whose desk plate said Felix Zaha. “Firstly, Mister Eversworn, was there a reason you came in to the office today of your own volition?”
Harry stole a glance at Ron, who looked increasingly sick.
“Yes, I saw something,” he finally said.
Zaha cocked his head. “You saw something?”
Harry blinked. “I remembered something that I saw.”
“Enlighten us.” Stramitz crossed her arms.
“I remember seeing a kneazle outside the hotel. It left out the service entrance when I got there.”
Stramitz and Zaha shared a look and then Zaha cleared his throat. “And you think this is important?”
“Valentine asked me if I’d seen an animal in the penthouse? I just thought—” he paused. How could he get out of this? “I took down the address on its collar.”
“You took down the address on a lost kneazle’s collar and then set it loose again?” Stramitz’s eyebrows rose in disbelief.
“No, it—er—it sort of attacked me. And then ran off.”
“I see,” Stramitz said. “And where were you last night?”
Harry felt the blood drain from his face.
She leaned in and pressed her palms to the desk. “Did you happen to see or hear from your neighbor, Garland Umphrey?”
“I—wait. What?”
Felix stood up and walked around the desk. “Would you mind surrendering your wand for a diagnostic?” He smiled and Harry turned to Ron, but he was staring at the floor. Zaha added, “It’s just to check the spells you’ve cast in the last day or so.”
“I—uh—” Harry looked back at Ron. He finally met his gaze.
“I think you should, mate, just to clear your, uh, name,” Ron said.
Harry sent Stramitz a glare. “You can’t possibly think I’m responsible for killing Marwan Zivantus!”
Stramitz stood up and licked her lips. “Now how could you possibly know that name? We haven’t released the victims to the public.”
