Chapter 20: Unsettling News

Jack usually loved going into forensics. On those rare occasions Foster sent him down here to speak with the wizards, he�d always felt reminded of why he�d chosen the life of an Auror. But for the first time, there were no butterflies in his stomach--just a cold, heavy feeling of dread as he made his way in.

There was only one wizard in here this early morning. He was short and portly, with a meager fuzz of hair that was punctuated by the rather noticeable bald spot on his head, and he sat in intense concentration at his desk, one eye squinted shut as he inspected something that Jack couldn�t quite make out from where he stood at the door.

He was called Owen Donovan, from what Jack remembered his father telling him. Jack had never really worked much with the old wizard himself; he�d barely even crossed paths with him, apart from the few times he�d come here, and Donovan--who, according to his father, had been a fixture in this department for over sixty years--would happen to be there as well, always just like this: hunched over his work space, meticulously examining or cataloguing some piece of evidence.

It seemed a pity to interrupt him when he was so engrossed in what he was doing, but Jack needed some answers, and though he certainly didn�t want to startle Donovan, he finally settled on knocking lightly on the doorframe. The old man barely moved, only raising his eyes slightly to look at Jack above the thin, wire-framed glasses perched on his nose.

�Yes?� It was clear by his blank expression that he did not appreciate having been distracted from his work, but frankly, it couldn�t be helped.

�I�m sorry to intrude, sir, but I was wondering if-�

Donovan narrowed his eyes; Jack thought he was getting ready to lash out at him and steeled himself for anything about to be thrown at him, when the wizard�s mouth curved up into what seemed to be--could it actually be?--a slight smile.

�Well, I�ll be damned...�

�Sorry?�

�Weasley�s boy...� The smile grew more evident, and so too did the amusement in his thick brogue, as recognition seemed to dawn in his eyes. �Are yeh Ron Weasley�s boy? Jack, is it?�

Jack grinned and nodded. �Yeah,� he said. �Yeah, I�m Jack Weasley. Ron Weasley�s son. I joined the Aurors a little over a year ago.�

�I thought I�d seen yeh here once or twice before...� Donovan shook his head. �I should have recognized yeh sooner. Spittin� image of your da, yeh are.�

He gave Jack another once-over, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, but they slid back down, as if to deliberately disobey him.

�Yeh won�t remember this,� he said, �but he used to bring yeh here when yeh were a wee one--no more than two or three, I reckon. Yeh�d run around, tryin� to get yer hands on everything, and yer poor da, chasin� yeh everywhere to make sure yeh wouldn�t break anything...�

He chuckled to himself, as Jack felt his face get hot.

Well, he thought, so much for trying to establish some credibility here...

�So, an Auror, eh?� Donovan reached for his wand, casually waving it to summon over a chair, then motioned for Jack to have a seat. �What can I do for yeh, then?�

�I�d dropped off some evidence to be examined here about two weeks ago,� Jack said. �Something we found in that Gringotts vault that had been broken into...�

Donovan nodded. �Ah, yes, I remember...�

�It was a piece of cloth we�d found, caught on one of the stalagmites inside the vault. I have a pretty strong suspicion about what it is, but... I was hoping you�d be able to confirm it.�

Without a word, Donovan reached behind him, aiming his wand at one of the shelves beyond his reach and levitated a small plastic bag that had been tagged. Once it landed on the desk, he pushed it towards Jack.

�This what yeh were askin� about?�

Inside was a tiny patch of cloth--no bigger than 4 square centimeters--and it glimmered strangely as the filtered sunlight from the window hit the desk. There was only one thing Jack knew of that glimmered like that in the light, and he�d seen it often enough, thanks to the countless times he and Emily had sneaked it out of his Uncle Harry�s trunk.

An invisibility cloak.

�Yes, that�s it,� Jack said. Absently, he poked at the bag with his finger, then looked up at Donovan. �Have you figured out what it is, yet? Whatever it is, it�ll be important... It might just shed some light on this damn break-in.�

Donovan gave him a strange grin, a knowing grin.

�Mighty difficult to break into Gringotts,� he said rather cryptically. �It�s supposed to be one of the safest places �round.�

�Supposed to be, yes.�

�Would take a lot to get past those goblins, don�t yeh think? Not to mention those nasty dragons they�ve got all o�er the place, ready to burn yeh to a crisp if yeh get a little too close to where yeh shouldn�t be. Someone would have to conjure up some mighty powerful dark magic to do any kind o� damage, eh?�

Jack arched an eyebrow. �Or perhaps find a simpler way to do it,� he said. �Something so obvious that we may never have even bothered to consider it...�

As if to confirm that he had just stumbled upon the right conjecture, Donovan gave him another cryptic grin and said simply, �Precisely.�

He picked up the plastic bag again, then held it up in front of Jack.

�Well, Jack Weasley... if yer suspicion was that this was from an invisibility cloak...�

He leaned in and nodded, and in that moment, Jack felt the rush of blood throb in his very temples.

�Yeh were right.�

It seemed wrong to be this... happy.

Ron wasn�t quite sure that happy would indeed be the right word; it wasn�t as if he had suddenly forgot what they were up against here. As if he could ever forget the sheer gravity of the situation, with Harry still a moving target and now two Death Eaters--not to mention Voldemort himself--hell-bent on getting him out of the way as well.

And then there were the children. Ron felt a stab of guilt thinking about them, wondering when in bloody hell this would all be over so he and Hermione could get back to their own time. He hated being apart from them, especially now. Elinor would be getting ready to leave for Hogwarts in a few weeks, and he didn�t want to waste what previous little time she had left at home.

So no, on second thought, perhaps happy wasn�t exactly the right word for what he was feeling after all, but he had to admit, this was probably as close to it as he could get under the circumstances. Hermione was with him, and that was worth gold as far as he was concerned. And he knew with her by his side, they could accomplish anything.

Even ending this thing once and for all.

He hadn�t wanted to leave the classroom last night; he would have gladly stayed there all night long, cradling her in his arms until they both fell asleep. But however exquisite it had been to lay side-by-side with her in the stillness of the forgotten room, listening to her soft, steady breathing, and feeling the feather-light brush of her fingers on his skin, the waning light from the moon made reality set in eventually. He shook her awake not too long afterwards, leading them back through the well-hidden corridors before the rest of Hogwarts could wake and discover them.

And now, only hours later, the castle was alive and bustling once again, with students streaming into the Great Hall by the dozens for porridge and eggs and sausages and toast. Even so, Ron chose to hang back a few feet from the massive double doors, content to have this moment alone with his wife in a darkened alcove, away from the curious eyes of his students--especially the twins, who, as Ron discovered much to his uneasiness--seemed determined to follow him around as much as possible. Ron never knew when or where they would turn up, and at the moment, he was just grateful he had yet to see them this morning. He sincerely hoped they were already inside having breakfast, since Quidditch practice was to start in about an hour.

�You really should be getting in there,� Hermione said, though Ron had to admit, it didn�t seem as if she was trying too hard to sound convincing.

�In a minute...�

He brushed his lips across the pulse point in her neck, teasing her with a small dart of his tongue. It got him the reaction he wanted; she laughed throatily and shifted slightly to lean even more so into him.

He felt her hot breath in his ear when she whispered deviously, �You�re an evil man, Ron Weasley-�

But the words never made it all the way out as he turned his face swiftly and covered her mouth with his.

�I have to keep you quiet somehow,� he said, by way of explanation. �Don�t you think people will get suspicious if they pass by and hear voices that don�t seem to belong to any bodies?�

�And don�t you think,� she said, snatching the invisibility cloak down so that he was now left exposed, while she remained safely hidden, �they�ll be even more suspicious if you don�t show up for breakfast?� She gave him a tiny shove forward.

�Oh come on, no one cares if teachers show up for mealtimes...�

He couldn�t see her under the invisibility cloak, but he was sure she was smirking at him at that moment.

�I thought you said you were their favorite,� she said. �Wouldn�t they notice if you�re conspicuously absent? Especially your little fan club?�

She seemed to take special delight in that last part. He�d have to think of an appropriate comeback for that one soon.

�Don�t start,� he muttered. �Bloody hell, I�ve no idea how Lockhart ever managed to juggle his throng of admirers�--ouch, that elbow in his ribs certainly was not harmless--�I�ve got my hands full just trying to avoid Fred and George.�

�Well it could be worse,� she said. �At least Malfoy and his goons haven�t decided to take a shine to you and follow you around everywhere. And besides, you get to keep an eye on Harry while you�re at it.�

�Yeah, I s�pose.�

�Speaking of your fan club...�

She let her voice trail off, and within seconds, Ron understood why.

�Hiya, Professor!�

He felt a tap on his shoulder, and he slowly turned around, forcing a smile.

�Hello, Fred.�

�Amazing,� Fred said, shaking his head in awe. �None of the other teachers can tell us apart, but you get it right each time.�

�Finally, a cool relative, eh, Fred?� George chimed in.

Ron cleared his throat. �Erm... you boys hungry?�

�Starved!�

�Right then... I�m going to go inside now.�

�Cool, we were just on our way!�

Ron forced another smile and reluctantly trudged up to the Great Hall, hoping all the while that Hermione was right behind him, just a few paces back. The familiar din of breakfast at Hogwarts greeted him as soon as he walked through the doors, and yet he could tell something wasn�t quite right. His eye picked up an unusual flurry of activity at the Gryffindor table; all sorts of people seemed huddled around the corner where he and Harry and Hermione usually sat. Through the crowd, he could see Dean Thomas� tall figure bent over his younger self�s shoulder, and as they approached the table, their voices grew more animated and excitable.

�Hey... what�s going on over here?� Fred said, trying to part the small crowd that had gathered round.

He managed to succeed somewhat, and Ron finally got a glimpse of his younger self, stone-faced and completely drained of color. Harry and Hermione sat on either side of him; Harry seemed to be avoiding everyone�s eyes at the moment, but Ron could see that young Hermione looked just as distraught about something as his younger self was.

�What?� Fred said. �Blimey, you all look as if someone just died!�

Young Ron didn�t say a word, only shoving a copy of The Daily Prophet into Fred�s hand. Ron felt the blood drain from his own face when he saw the headline.

Muggle Town Attacked: You-Know-Who Comes Out Of Hiding.

�So... it was an invisibility cloak...�

Jack felt as if he should be elated somehow about being right about this, but in truth, he felt all too ill about the entire situation to take pleasure even in being right about anything.

�Yeh�ve got good instincts there, yeh do,� Donovan said, his eyes twinkling. �Yer da would have been proud of yeh.�

�Yeah,� Jack said with a small smile, careful not to give away the fact that he knew his father was all right and safe--for the time being. �Bloody hell, I knew it... I knew it had to be something simple like that... Gringotts has only ever been broken into once, when someone tried to take the Philosopher�s Stone. Those goblins wouldn�t be foolish enough to be victimized twice!�

�But apparently they were,� Donovan said.

�That�s because they probably never thought of someone doing something so obvious. I mean, they set up all kinds of ridiculous precautions, but they didn�t think that someone would actually try sneaking in this way...�

Jack caught a glance of the clock on the back wall.

�Damn,� he muttered. �I wish I could stay here and talk to you more about this, Mr. Donovan, but I�ve got to go... I�ll be late.�

�Oh? Where are yeh off to in such a hurry?�

Jack clenched his jaw. �Keating�s office,� he said. �He�s asked me to come in and give him a status report on the time-turner theft.�

�More like demanded, I bet,� Donovan chuckled.

�Yeah,� Jack said, laughing softly, �you�ve got it. But he should find this piece of information rather interesting. Thanks again, Mr. Donovan.�

The old wizard shrugged. �Just doin� me job, son.�

Jack threw him a grateful smile and rushed down the corridor, almost running smack dab into the plump witch who guarded the front desk. She huffed at him in annoyance, recognizing him, Jack was sure, and maneuvered around him to get to her seat.

�Mr. Weasley, isn�t it?� she said.

�Yes,� he panted. �I�m-�

�Late.�

He decided it would be best to hold his tongue at this moment and refrain from saying all the things he really wanted to say. Instead, he answered in what he hoped was a pacifying tone, �I apologize for that.�

�He said to send you right in,� she said.

Jack reckoned this was her way of dismissing him. Without another word, he took the cue and made his way into the area behind her desk, coming to stop at the office at the very back, with Keating�s name engraved on the door that was slightly ajar.

�Hello?� he said, knocking on the door.

When no answer came, he poked his head inside. The office seemed to be empty, though, which quite annoyed him now that he thought of it. The plump witch had given him a hard time for being late, but obviously Keating wasn�t exactly a good judge of time himself.

Deciding he had nothing to lose, Jack made his way inside anyway and sat down, taking in his surroundings. There was no denying it--compared to the other offices he�d been to of other officials at Keating�s level, this one was... well, quite a dump. It was small and cramped, with curtains in dire need of cleaning, and faded walls with paint that had long lost its shade.

No wonder the old man was so damn cranky all the time, thought Jack.

He straightened immediately when he heard a noise behind him.

�Sir, I-�

Jack stopped when he saw who it was. It was the young clerk he�d spoken to a few weeks ago, the one Keating had pawned him off to, when he decided at the last minute that he couldn�t be bothered to meet with someone of Jack�s lowly status in the Ministry.

�Mr. Marks, isn�t it?� He extended his hand; it seemed the polite thing to do. �Jack Weasley. We met a while back.�

�Oh... yes...� Marks took his hand and gave it a half-hearted shake. �I�m sorry, I didn�t know Mr. Keating was occupied. You haven�t seen him, have you?�

�I was about to ask you the same thing,� Jack said. �We were to meet about ten minutes ago. I thought I was late, but evidently, so is Mr. Keating.�

Marks nodded, but seemed distracted, or else, unable to look Jack directly in the eyes. Then finally, he said something that made Jack realize why he was behaving so oddly.

�I�m sorry about your father,� he said softly. �This must be very hard for you.�

A whole hell of a lot easier now, now that I know he�s alive, thought Jack.

�Thank you, that�s very kind.�

�Well... I should get going... Would you just let Mr. Keating know I stopped by?�

�Sure, I�ll-�

But he had already left before Jack could finish the sentence.

�-do that...�

He glanced at his wristwatch again. Almost half-past the hour. He�d heard of being fashionably late, but this was ridiculous. He sank down onto the chair again, drumming his fingers on the stack of papers on the desk, when something caught his eye.

It was the corner of a piece of paper that had been obscured by the pile shoved on top of it. Jack didn�t really know why his eye picked it up, as there was nothing really extraordinary about it, but there were pricks of awareness that were traveling all up and down his spine at that moment.

His father had seer abilities, that much he knew. He�d never really considered inheriting those abilities himself, but just then, he couldn�t help but wonder if he had. And he couldn�t help but wonder what it was about that piece of paper that seemed to call out to him.

Looking behind him first, to make sure no one could see what he was about to do, he tugged gently at the exposed corner, eventually managing to free it from the stack of papers that pinned it to the desk.

Then his heart stopped when he realized what he was looking at. It was a map. A detailed blueprint of the underground vaults at Gringotts. And Jack was still trying to digest it all, when a voice suddenly yanked him out of his thoughts.

�Well, Mr. Weasley... Find something interesting?�

�Death Eaters stormed the Muggle town of Worthingshire, terrorizing its citizens... His Excellency, Mr. Fudge confirmed that a message was written on a wall of one of the Muggle homes attacked, and that it was directed towards the-boy-who-lived, Mr. Harry Potter, saying, �You won�t be safe for much longer, Potter...�� Fred raised his head from the newspaper, his mouth open in utter disbelief. �Oh no, Harry...�

�All right, you�ve had enough time to gawk at it,� Ron said, snatching the paper out of his hands. �Give it back.�

�Hey!!� Fred shot young Ron a wounded look in protest. �I barely even had a chance to read the article!�

�Sod off, Fred,� young Ron snarled. �Sod off, all of you! Don�t you see Harry just needs some breathing room right now?�

But that statement seemed to put Harry on the spot that much more, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his normally pale skin awash with a furious red at the moment as he stared resolutely into his bowl of porridge. No one seemed to move, though, even after young Ron�s words. They all seemed to be in too much shock to move.

�You heard me,� young Ron said. �Go, all of you! Let �im eat!�

That seemed to snap people out of their daze, as the crowd began to disperse. Young Ron seemed ready to bark out the order again to the last remaining person, until he noticed who it was.

�Oh... hi, Professor.�

��Lo there,� Ron said. He placed a hand on Harry�s shoulder and gently shook him. �You okay there, Harry?�

�Fine,� Harry mumbled. The hard set of his jaw betrayed him though.

�He just needed all of those blokes to go away,� young Ron said. �Honestly, the way they hang over him all the time, how else is Harry supposed to feel normal-�

�Bloody hell, would you stop talking about me like I�m not even in the room?�

Harry dropped the spoon into the porridge and got up. Both young Ron and young Hermione stared at him, open-mouthed, but didn�t seem to be making any moves to stop him leaving. Finally, as if snapping to his senses, young Ron tried to grab old of Harry�s arm.

�Harry, wait, don�t go-�

Harry managed to slip away, however, and bolted through the doors. Ron almost followed him, but felt Hermione give him a squeeze from under the invisibility cloak, as if to signal that she�d go after him to make sure he was safe, and so he turned back to his younger self, who looked utterly beside himself.

�Ron... it�s all right,� he said. �Let him go for now... I think he just needs to be alone.�

�He shouldn�t be alone, Professor,� his younger self said. �It�s not safe, for one. And for another...�

�... he�s alone too often enough as it is,� Hermione said, finishing his thought.

Ron smiled and sat at the table beside them. �I know you two are concerned about him, but... I think this is something he�ll just need some time to deal with. He�s been through some pretty traumatic events in the last few months. You�ll just have to be patient with him. But he�s resilient, you know that. He�ll get through this, just as he always does, right?�

Suddenly, young Hermione gave him a strange look. Ron didn�t register why at first, nor did he understand straight away what she meant by what she said soon after.

�How... how would you know that, Professor?�

And then, it hit him. She was still eying him, as if trying to reconcile what he�d just said somehow, and slowly, panic started to trickle in as he realized why. He�d spoken with a little too much familiarity just now; no wonder she seemed puzzled.

�Er... I�d... spoken to Professor Lupin just before term,� he said, reaching for the first plausible explanation he could think of at the moment, and hoping it would be enough to set her whirring mind at ease. �I wanted to get a sense of all of you before I started this year. He told me a great deal about Harry, and assured me that I shouldn�t worry about him, that he�d be all right somehow.�

She didn�t seem to be too convinced by his explanation, however. Ron should have known--her brain was always a thousand steps ahead of everyone else�s--but thankfully, she didn�t say anything. And to be quite honest, Ron couldn�t really say he cared much right at that moment; he had more pressing matters to attend to. He reached over to take the newspaper once more, not saying a word as he read the grim details one more time.

Voldemort was getting bold, that much was clear. It would only be a matter of time now, he thought, before Voldemort would inevitably feel daring enough to take things to the next level and try his best to get to Harry. But he was going to be damned if he let the Dark Lord get to his best friend like that. One way or another, he was going to protect Harry.

And one way or another, this was finally going to come to a head.