Storytime with Rachel F Hundred

“My son did not murder Ginevra Longbottom, Viscount Potter.”

Harry raised an eyebrow, partially at the wizarding title she’d given him, but mostly because of what he’d read in Narcissa Malfoy’s spirit with his Guide gifts.  She was furious and passionate in the defence of her son. 

He slid a look towards his Sentinel.

Hermione Granger tilted her head thoughtfully.  Her curly caramel hair was smartly constrained into a braid wrapped into a low bun.  “Physiologically, she believes what she’s saying, Harry.  Of course, that’s not an indication that Draco Malfoy is innocent.”

In front of them, the blonde aristocrat bristled unhappily in the comfortable armchair in the drawing room of Gryffindor House.

Harry shifted on the uncomfortable matching sofa and looked over towards his two fathers stood in front of the hearth.  They had been the ones to call for the meeting after Lady Malfoy had approached them.  Harry and Hermione rarely stepped foot into the British wizarding world. 

While magical Britain acknowledged the authority and power of the Sentinels and Guides Order, they also encouraged awakened Sentinels and Guides to stick to the muggle world.  Magical Sentinel and Guides were rare, and it was difficult for the most powerful of their kind, like Harry and Hermione, to be in magical enclaves for any significant length of time. 

Britain had made very little concession to accommodate Sentinels or Guides; magic schools banned entry to the awakened, and legislation prevented Sentinels and Guides from serving in Ministerial positions.  The Wizengamot did allow Sentinels and Guides to assume their hereditary positions in the governing body, but only after taking a stringent magical vow of confidentiality.

If it hadn’t been for the latter being in his future at some point, Harry figured he and Hermione would have happily settled in France near to Hermione’s own parents who had emigrated a few years before to a family villa they had inherited. 

Outside of Britain, there was a much more practical approach to folding Sentinels and Guides into the magical world.  Magical wards in common enclaves enabled Sentinels and Guides to comfortably remain without issues.  The International Confederation of Wizards recruited Sentinels and Guides fiercely for their branch of Interpol and sponsored magical apprenticeships across many different disciplines.  He and Hermione had worked with the ICW to gain their magical masteries, but they’d ended up taking over as the European Order First Sentinel and Guide.

It was in their positions as First Sentinel and Guide that he and Hermione were meeting with Lady Malfoy.  The Order had a responsibility to all Sentinels and Guides, awake and latent, and Draco Malfoy was a latent Sentinel.

Sirius still shot Harry an apologetic look for bringing the whole mess to their attention.  Harry softened as he usually did with Sirius.  They were incredibly close – closer in some ways than Harry was with either of his biological parents given that the breakdown of James and Lily Potter’s marriage had been triggered by Harry’s birth. 

When Harry had been born a fully awake Guide, his father along with Sirius had shockingly tipped from latent to awake in the birthing room.  With the help of Harry’s owl spirit guide, Hedwig, Sirius had immediately shielded Harry with his own Guide gift.  James, awakened as a Sentinel, had initially platonically bonded with Sirius.  While their late awakening had been unusual, they had both had training by the Order having been tested as latent in their early teens.     

Standing beside Sirius, James sighed audibly.  He looked calm and composed, but his emotional state was screaming that he was supremely irritated.  “Narcissa, perhaps you could explain exactly what has happened and why you’ve asked for the Order to get involved rather than just stating an obvious defence of your son.”

Narcissa’s lips pursed as she glared at his father.  His father looked back evenly.  Harry wasn’t surprised when Narcissa caved first.

“Two days ago, my son was found asleep in a hotel room with the corpse of Ginevra Longbottom,” Narcissa reported crisply.  Harry figured her accent wouldn’t be out of place in aristocratic regency England.  “He confessed to adultery with the girl but maintains that he did not kill her.  His last memory is of going to sleep after their liaison once Ginevra had already left the room.”

Harry swiped his glasses from his face and pinched the bridge of his nose briefly.  Hermione’s hand clasped his shoulder, and he breathed in, allowing her calm to smooth his own irritation.

“Draco is a latent Sentinel,” Narcissa stated firmly.  “Is it not the responsibility of the Order to protect him?”

“The Order has a responsibility to investigate if called upon by any latent, dormant or awake Sentinel or Guide,” Hermione responded neatly.  “However, if we find that Draco was responsible for the death, he’ll be subject to our justice.”

“Is Draco aware of the consequences, Cousin?” Sirius asked, turning to Narcissa.

Narcissa nodded, an unhappy frown pulling her lips downwards.  Her fingers clenched white on the cup she held.  “We don’t trust the DMLE or the prosecution to do their due diligence in investigating properly.  They’ve already found him guilty because he’s a Malfoy.”  

Sirius exchanged a look with his Sentinel.

“Well, it’s not like we don’t know the wizarding world’s justice system is pants, Pads,” James sighed.

They both looked back over towards Harry and Hermione. 

Harry glanced at Hermione. 

They both knew that they’d have to take the case. 

While James and Sirius were the de facto Southern Order First Sentinel and Guide with jurisdiction across the British Isles, they were considered too close to the parties involved to offer a neutral investigation.  The muggle Northern Order First Sentinel and Guide might have been an acceptable alternative investigation team, but they were very elderly, and all but retired to a cottage in the Yorkshire Dales.  The rest of their British Sentinel and Guide community was predominately muggle and did not have the relevant experience with magic required. 

“Please can you advise the DMLE that we’ll be taking over the investigation and visiting the current team for a handover and Draco this afternoon?” Harry happily threw that task in his father’s direction.

James visibly grimaced but nodded.

Narcissa’s emotional stoicism crumbled for a second and Harry felt her relief even through his own shielding.  “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank us yet, Lady Malfoy,” Hermione cautioned.  “We don’t know what we’ll find when we start digging.”

Narcissa’s elegant features twisted into an almost sneer before she caught herself and smoothed her expression.  She set her cup down and stood.  “I’ll go and inform Draco and his counsel that his case has been accepted by the Order.”

Harry noted her strong concern and rage which had momentarily peeked out from under her surface calm and tried to let his irritation go.  She was a mother worried about her son, Harry reminded himself, and ignored the twinge of envy. 

Sirius jumped forward.  “I’ll see you out, Cousin.”

The three of them waited until Sirius closed the door firmly leaving them alone.

Harry wasn’t surprised when James all but threw himself into the armchair Narcissa had vacated.  “Merlin, I hate that woman!”

“Setting aside our wider responsibility to all Sentinels and Guides,” Hermione began dryly, “why did you even entertain her owl when she sought an audience with you, James?”

His father swept a hand through his already messy salt-and-pepper hair and waved vaguely in the direction of his departed Guide. “Sirius has an obligation to her as Lord Black, he couldn’t refuse her owl, and once she’d made the request, well, we do have a duty.”  He threw his head back dramatically to rest against the chair cushion.  “I should have agreed with Sirius when he wanted to disown her after we got Lucius Malfoy put away!”   

Harry shivered and Hermione tightened her grip on his shoulder briefly. 

Lucius Malfoy had been convicted of the murder of a child, kidnapping and necromancy.  He had been inveigled by the Dark Lord, Voldemort, to try to restore his wandering tattered soul to a body. 

Harry hated talking about their takedown of Voldemort.  They’d confronted him in the graveyard where Malfoy was attempting the ritual and Harry had used his shaman gifts to tie together all of Voldemort’s soul shards.  He had sent the dormant Sentinel to the afterlife.  It had been one of the most difficult moments of his life, even with the support of his Sentinel, standing shoulder to shoulder with him.

“At the time, Narcissa swore she’d never committed a criminal act – which was the truth – and was glad Voldemort was gone – also the truth – and that she just wanted to give Draco a chance to have a life unencumbered by the mistakes of his father,” James sighed.  “She pointed out that I’d given Sirius that chance when we were kids despite the reputation of the House of Black as a whole.  It made for a compelling argument.”

Sirius quietly re-entered the room and headed over to sit on the arm of the chair, the two men leaned into each other.  Harry absently took in that Sirius had dumped his formal Lord Black robe somewhere and was dressed in a casual outfit of jeans and t-shirt which he preferred.

Harry self-consciously brushed imaginary lint from the crisp white shirt he’d worn with a green suit and wished for his own casual attire.  Beside him, Hermione was outfitted in similar business dress; a camel pantsuit with a pretty cream blouse decorated with tiny red and blue flowers.

Sirius dropped a kiss on his Sentinel’s head and ran a hand through the messy strands before he turned to Harry.  After so many years of living with the pair, Harry recognised it as a grounding technique for them both.

“Sorry to drag you away from Rome and land you with this mess, kids,” Sirius apologised.  “We’d have taken the case ourselves, but I know Frank would have immediately lodged a complaint about my being Lord Black and Draco’s cousin.”

“You’re also Frank’s cousin,” James snorted, “and let’s face it: Frank is going to complain either way given Ginny is Neville’s deceased wife.”

Frank Longbottom was incredibly protective of his son, Neville, and the rest of his family.  Understandably so given his first wife had died saving a baby Neville from an attack by Voldemort.  Neville had become known in the wizarding world as ‘the Boy Who Lived.’    

There was a part of Harry which would always feel guilty at how Neville had been forced by the wizarding world into infamy when it was really Harry who had been prophesised to defeat Voldemort and who had secretly defeated him at the graveyard. 

Neville himself blamed Albus Dumbledore for propagating the myth that Neville had anything to do with his mother’s success in turning Voldemort into a wraith and ignoring the fact that Voldemort had already marked Harry in an earlier confrontation.

“We would investigate if we weren’t so close to it,” James concluded.  

Hermione shrugged.  “It is our responsibility to investigate.”  She wrinkled her nose.  “Even if Lady Malfoy stinks of her hatred of us.”

Harry picked up her hand and kissed her knuckles before he released her and reached for his coffee.  He really needed coffee. “What can you tell us?”

“Nothing much more than what Narcissa already did,” Sirius admitted sheepishly.  “The news of Ginny Longbottom’s death was reported with all appropriate shocked melodrama in the Daily Prophet yesterday and they had another piece today.”  He shrugged.  “We reached out to Neville with condolences, but we haven’t had a reply.”

James unholstered his wand and waved it.  Two copies of the Daily Prophet landed on the coffee table in front of Harry.

Hermione immediately retrieved them.  She handed one to Harry while she read the other.  It took them very little time before they swapped. 

Hermione huffed and chucked the one she held back down onto the table.  “I see their reporting has gone from bad to worse.”

“They’ve all but convicted Malfoy already,” Harry noted.  He nudged his glasses up his nose. 

“Unsurprising since Aurors found him alone in the hotel room with Ginny’s body after an anonymous tip-off,” Sirius said.  “It does look cut and dried.”

“All the more reason to be suspicious,” Hermione commented dryly.  “It does sound a little unbelievable to be true.”

“What do you know about Draco, Padfoot?” asked Harry.

Sirius grimaced.  “He’s an arrogant twit.”

Hermione snorted.  “Sounds like he hasn’t changed much since school.”

Harry darted a look at his Sentinel.  She rarely talked about the couple of months she’d spent at Hogwarts before an incident with a troll had triggered her Sentinel awakening.

“He was an arrogant twit back then,” Hermione confirmed to his questioning look.  “He openly called me a mudblood, and every other phrase was ‘my father says,’ or ‘wait until my father hears about this.’”  She bit her lip.  “He loathed Neville, but not as much as he and Ron Weasley loathed each other.  There was some kind of feud between the families, I think, if I remember the gossip correctly.  I would never have thought any member of the Weasley family would have gotten involved with Malfoy.”

“What I can believe is that Draco might have thought it amusing to have an affair with Neville’s wife and a Weasley – you’re right about the feud by the way,” Sirius said sadly.  “Draco is as malicious as any Black or any Malfoy.”

“You said you’d sent condolences to Neville?” checked Harry. 

He’d only met Neville a handful of times over the years. Their first meeting had been in that godawful graveyard.  Neville had been tied to a headstone, bleeding profusely, but he had followed Harry’s lead and had even managed to helpfully kill Voldemort’s snake with a sword which had appeared from nowhere. 

Harry and Hermione had missed attending Neville’s wedding to Ginny a couple of years before because they’d been in the middle of a situation in Germany.  He vaguely remembered that it had been one of the few occasions where his father and his mother had both gone to an event since their marital separation; they were Neville’s godparents.

“We sent condolences to Neville and to the Weasleys,” his father repeated. He glanced towards Sirius and sighed.  “I also reached out to Frank directly to see if there was anything we could do to help, but no reply so…”

Harry nodded slowly, unsurprised.  “I should reach out to Neville myself.”

“Maybe we should also call on your mother and sister,” Hermione commented, nudging him with her elbow. “They know Neville and Ginny better than we do; they may have more information.”

“That’s a good idea,” James said, pointing at her with an approving nod.  “Violet was in Ginny’s year at Hogwarts and grew up with Neville.  She probably has the latest gossip on if Ginny was having an affair, if nothing else.”

Harry sighed inwardly, but he nodded.  “It’s somewhere to start anyway.”

o-O-o

Harry steadied Hermione as their apparition landed them outside the Potter cottage in Godric’s Hollow.  It had been given to Lady Lily Potter and Violet when it became clear that his mother was unable to live with his father being a Sentinel, one with a very close partnership with his Guide.  Sometimes Harry wondered if Violet had been the result of an attempt by Lily to keep his father’s attention. 

Lily had been heavily pregnant when Voldemort had attacked on Harry’s first birthday.  If both of his Dads hadn’t been present and able to repel the Dark Wizard, she, Violet and Harry might never have survived the experience.  As it was, Voldemort had tried to kill Harry, leaving him with a magical scar across his palm.

Harry looked at the cottage with a frown. 

He didn’t really have great memories of the cottage growing up.  As a child it had been difficult for him to visit with his mother and sister without Sirius shielding him from the magical ambience.  He also hadn’t understood his mother’s anger and bitterness towards his fathers who had taken primary custody of him; he really hadn’t understood her resentment towards him, her son. 

As a grown man he better understood that it had to have been devastating for Lily to have had her world turned upside down because of Harry being born a Guide, and he’d long ago accepted that he and his mother would never be close.  

Hermione hugged him a touch with the arm she had slung around his waist to apparate.  “You alright?”

“I’ll be fine,” Harry said.  “You?”

Hermione didn’t get the chance to answer before the door to the cottage was yanked open and a thin young brunette with Lily’s delicate features grinned at them before shrieking and throwing herself towards them heedless of her bare feet.

Harry caught his younger sister firmly in a hug before she squirmed out of his embrace and into a hug with Hermione.  He hid his grimace at his sister’s barely-there outfit of cut-off denim shorts and a cropped pink t-shirt that showed off her athletic body.  She’d hex him if he transfigured her clothes into a nun’s outfit, Harry reminded himself.

“When did you get back?!” Violet set herself in the middle of them, hooked an arm to one of theirs and pulled them into the cottage. 

“This morning,” Harry said.  “Malfoy called us with a request to investigate this business with him and Ginevra Longbottom.”

Violet groaned.  “I might have known that they’d drag you into it.”  She tugged them into the cottage, released them and shut the door.  “Mum’s in the kitchen.”

Harry poked at his sister’s ribs as she helped take Hermione’s coat.  “How’s the Quidditch season coming along?”

Violet poked him back.  “You could come to one of my games and see for yourself.”

“When the British Quidditch league implements better warding for Sentinels and Guides at your stadiums, I’ll come to a match,” Harry promised as he always did, handing over his own coat.   

Violet rolled her eyes and poked him again.  “Guess who got into the England squad for the friendly with Belgium next month?”

Harry stopped and gaped at her.  “Really?”

Violet nodded enthusiastically.  “Found out yesterday and…” she squealed as Harry picked her up and spun her around.  “Put me down, you idiot!”

Harry set her back on her feet and hugged her.  “Well done, you!”

“What’s all the noise about?” asked Lily as she entered the hallway.  She looked drawn, pale beneath her freckles.  Her unfashionable deep green buttoned-up wizarding day robes and tightly coiled hairstyle made her look older than her years.

“Violet was just telling us her news, Lady Potter,” Hermione reached over and hugged Violet again.  “It’s brilliant!”

“Not least because the Belgium stadium has excellent warding,” Harry said brightly, “we’ll be able to come and see you play!”

Violet grinned at him.

Lily smiled tightly.  “It would be lovely to have you come along for a change.”  She greeted Harry with an airy kiss on the cheek.  She repeated the greeting with Hermione.  “That’s an interesting suit, Hermione.”

“Thank you, Lady Potter,” Hermione said politely.

“I’ll make some tea,” Lily announced and went back to the kitchen.

Violet shared a grimace with Harry and Hermione before leading them into the chintzy sitting room.  “If you’re investigating, I take it you want some inside knowledge before you head to Ministry?”

Hermione nodded.  “I remember Draco, of course, and Ron and Neville were both in my year and Hogwarts House, but I don’t recall Ginevra.”

“Ginny,” Violet corrected.  “Or at least she was called Ginny at school.  She used Ginevra more once she married Neville.”

“Tell us everything you know,” Hermione requested as she and Harry took the sofa by the window. 

Violet curled up in one of the armchairs opposite, tucking her slim legs under her.  “Most of my knowledge is from school,” she cautioned, “or the gossip when I get back together with friends.  Ginny and I weren’t close.”

“Weren’t you close with Neville though?” asked Harry pointedly.  He knew his mother had built a close relationship with her godson, despite Frank’s objection.

Violet shrugged, but there was a glimmer of hurt in her green eyes.  “When we were kids, sure, but we drifted apart after he married.” She sighed.  “I don’t think Ginny liked him being friends with other women.  Luna said she barely saw him either.”

Lily’s entry was heralded by the floating tea-tray which set itself down on the coffee table.  It began to pour as his mother swept in and took the second chair which was ostensibly her chair. 

“What are we talking about?” asked Lily bluntly.

“We’ve been called into investigate Ginevra Longbottom’s death,” Harry informed her.  “We wanted to come by and let you know.”

“And to pick our brains,” Violet said, accepting the teacup which floated in front of her.

“And to pick your brains,” Harry allowed.  “Anything you can tell us which might help us find out the truth would be great.”

“What is there to investigate?” asked his mother sharply.  “Malfoy was found in the room with Ginevra’s dead body.  He hates the Weasleys and Neville.  It’s obvious to everyone he’s guilty.”

Harry hummed.  He could feel Hermione’s desire to refute his mother’s statements stampede across her mind as though she’d spoken aloud. 

Violet frowned at Lily.  “As much as I dislike Malfoy, he is entitled to a defence, and if he’s invoked his latent Sentinel status to drag Harry and Hermione into it all, he must be very confident that he’s innocent.”

His mother pursed her lips.  “Violet…”

“No,” Violet said firmly.  “You know a Sentinel and Guide pair can tell if someone is lying.  All Draco has to do is say that he’s innocent to Harry and Hermione.  If he is innocent, then he’s entitled to have more of an investigation than the Aurors declaring him guilty on a stack of circumstantial evidence.  If he’s guilty, they’ll know immediately and having tangible evidence of his guilt can only help the prosecution.”

“Neville deserves for this matter to be handled discreetly and quietly,” Lily began.

Violet snorted.  “Like that was ever going to happen!”

Hermione leapt in before Lily could vent her bubbling outrage.  “Violet is right that we’ll know immediately if Draco is innocent, and if he is then we’ll find out who the true culprit is.  Doesn’t Neville deserve to have true justice and not just a parody of it?”

Lily subsided.  She sipped her tea and her hard gaze caught Harry’s.  “You promise to do right by Neville in all this?  Not just stand by a latent Sentinel because he’s one of yours?  I might not agree with Frank’s decision not to allow visitors right now, but Neville deserves consideration in his grief.”

“Latent Sentinel or not, we’re tasked to get to the truth of it,” Harry said firmly.  He didn’t bother pointing out that Neville was a latent Guide himself and deserving of their involvement on his own behalf.

“I suppose I’ll have to be satisfied with that,” Lily said brusquely.

Harry felt Hermione’s Sentinel hackles rise at the disrespectful tone.  He reached for her hand, and he was pleased when she entangled their fingers together.

“So, Ginevra Longbottom,” Harry said determinedly.  “What was she like?”

“She was a lovely girl,” Lily began.  “Sporty and smart.  She was Sarah’s best friend at Hogwarts.  They were both in Gryffindor together.”

Sarah Longbottom was Neville’s stepsister, the only child of his stepmother Agatha MacMillan who Frank had married less than a year after Alice Longbottom had died saving her son from Voldemort’s Killing curse.  Sarah had married Ron Weasley straight out of Hogwarts.  It was like something from a fairy-tale or romance, Harry mused; both best friends marrying each other’s brothers.

“Ginny and Neville were very happy together,” his mother continued.  “This nonsense that she was having an affair with Draco is just that: nonsense.”

Violet squirmed in her seat.

“Violet?” prompted Hermione.

Violet shot her mother an apologetic look.  “Ginny and Draco have been having an affair for almost a year now.”  She grimaced.  “I mean, had been…” she gestured with her teacup.  “You know what I mean.”

“Violet…” his mother stuttered.

“She wasn’t at all discreet, Mum,” Violet said with a sigh.  She swept her hand through her short hair in the same way their father had done that morning.  She looked over at Harry.  “Ginny was raised by Molly to become Lady Longbottom.  She was spoon-fed the fairy-tale of Neville being some kind of super-hero even though everyone sensible knows that it was Alice using the spell Mum created which disembodied Voldemort back then.”

Lily flushed red, but Harry felt her pleasure at being acknowledged.  She hadn’t been able to use the spell when Voldemort had attacked them because of her pregnancy, but she’d shared it with Alice and Alice had protected Neville with it when Voldemort had attacked the Longbottoms at the Hallows’ Eve.  She’d used an entirely different spell to protect Harry during the attack on his birthday.

“Ginny Sorted into Gryffindor just like every Weasley and so she was in the same House as Neville,” Violet said.  “There was a rumour that Neville rescued her from some kind of evil diary during her first year,” she waved, “Neville kind of dismissed it all as just him telling her to hand the thing in a responsible adult, but that was it really.  She glommed on and wouldn’t let go of the poor chap.”

Lily set her cup down.  “I thought she and Neville were sweethearts.”

“To an extent,” Violet countered, not backing down as she looked back at her mother evenly.  “I’ll admit that Neville was genuinely in love with her at school and when he proposed at Ginny’s graduation.”

Harry felt the disappointment that Violet quickly smothered, and he didn’t say anything when she shot him a glance as though to check whether he’d realised anything.

“You don’t think she was in love with him,” Hermione deduced.

“I think Ginny was in love with the idea of being in love with him,” Violet sighed.  “Ginny and Neville had a major rough patch after their engagement.  She expected him to leave his apprenticeship with Sprout and join the Aurors.  She wanted to get married straight away after she left Hogwarts, he wanted to wait until they were both settled into their professions.  She wanted to live at the Manor, he wanted to live in their own place rather than with his Dad and Agatha.”

“Yes, they had problems, but they worked them through like most couples do,” Lily argued.

“He still did marry her,” Hermione pointed out gently to Violet. 

“There was a lot of pressure on Neville as the Boy Who Lived to marry a good Gryffindor girl from a Light family,” Violet shrugged.

Harry felt her disappointment again, but it felt deeper and coloured with shame.  Violet had Sorted into Ravenclaw; she wasn’t a good Gryffindor girl.  He glanced between his mother and sister and wondered why he’d never realised Violet’s Sorting had been a point of tension between them.

Lily herself looked taken aback at Violet’s words as though shocked to be faced with the specificity of the requirements people, including her, had set around Neville’s bride.

“Violet,” she began hesitantly.

“Anyway,” Violet spoke over her, “Ginny was who everyone expected Neville to marry, they’d been going out for years…and I know he didn’t want to disappoint his father or hurt Ginny by breaking their engagement.”

“They married two years ago,” Hermione stated.

Violet nodded.  “There were more arguments from all accounts about the wedding itself,” she shrugged, “and after the wedding, that’s really when Neville started to withdraw from his friendships.”

“When did she begin her infidelity?” asked Harry.

“The Ministry Summer Ball last August,” Violet answered promptly. 

His sister had gotten the timing right, then, stating it had been almost a year, Harry mused.  It was already the beginning of July so almost a year.

“Neville was abroad at an Herbology conference presenting a paper on accelerating the potency of herbal potion ingredients with Sprout,” Violet continued. “Ginny went on her own and left with Draco.”

“It was openly known amongst your peers then?” Hermione questioned, a note of surprise colouring her words.

Violet nodded.  “They were not discreet at all.  They even used the same hotel in London every time.”

“Did Neville know?” asked Harry carefully.

“Of course he didn’t!” Lily immediately protested, her teacup clattering back into its saucer again.

Violet kept her eyes on Harry.  “He knew.  They had a blazing row about it a couple of weeks ago.”

“How do you know that?” asked Harry.

Violet’s chin raised up a touch.  “Because he came to see me play the Dartmoor Dancers that same weekend and told me he’d been an idiot, that he didn’t care anymore what everyone would say; he was going to get a divorce.”

“That can’t be true!” Lily proclaimed.

Hermione sighed and glanced at Harry.  It didn’t need both of their gifts for them to know that Violet had told nothing but the truth their whole visit.

o-O-o

The stately home of the Earl of Alvergny, Longbottom Reach, was set in acres of woodland and Harry regretted that they Floo’ed in from Gryffindor House rather than taking transport which would have enabled them to take in the scenic surroundings.  As it was, they only caught brief glimpses of the grounds through the tall windows as they were led through the house to a reception room by a quiet house-elf.

Harry noted that the magical ambience was comfortable for once and he appreciated that the Longbottom wards were adjusted for a Sentinel and Guide.

Frank Longbottom got to his feet as soon as they entered.  Harry wasn’t surprised to find the Earl alone, nor that he was interfering.

Harry met Frank’s cold gaze directly.  “My apologies, Lord Longbottom, but we received a note from Neville to meet at this time.” 

The quick reply to Harry’s spelled message to Neville had been a surprise but appreciated.  He and Hermione had only briefly stopped by their London residence to pull on wizarding robes before they Floo’ed.

“Neville needs privacy during his grief, not people intruding with unwarranted questions,” Longbottom growled.  “This investigation of yours is a joke!”

“Neville invited us here himself.  If he’s changed his mind about meeting with us, we’ll have to hear it from him,” Harry said firmly.

As though his words had summoned him, the far door opened, and Neville strode in.  He immediately headed for Harry who swiftly stood.  They bowed to each other as was the common practice with young magical aristocrats.

Harry took in Neville’s wan appearance while his godbrother greeted Hermione before he waved for them to take their seats on a nearby sofa.

“Sorry, I didn’t meet your Floo,” Neville shot his father a look, “someone asked the house elves not to inform me when you arrived.  It’s just as well I set my own alert.” 

“Neville, there is no need for you…” Frank began.

Neville just glanced at his father and his father stopped, dropping back into his chair with a huff, indicating without words that he intended to stay. 

Neville took the second chair in the sitting arrangement.  “Thank you for your note this morning, Harry, Hermione.  I appreciate why you have to investigate.”

“We are sorry for your loss, Neville,” Harry said compassion coating his tone.

“Thank you,” Neville said quietly.  “I won’t pretend Ginny and I were happy with each other, but she didn’t deserve to be murdered.”  His fingers fidgeted with the buttons on the black shirt he wore under the plain black day robes.  “I understand why Draco called you in if he didn’t do it, and I’ll help in any way I can.  I want her murderer to be brought to justice.”

“For the record, where were you that night?” asked Hermione.

They all ignored Neville’s father huffing again in renewed indignation.

“At Hogwarts. I was gathering a harvest of jubby bush leaves,” Neville explained.  “They must be picked as soon as they are ready, or they lose the enzyme that allows them to be used as a stabilising agent in potions.  Pomona and I spent three hours taking in the harvest and I decided to stay in my quarters at the school rather than coming back here.”

Truth, Harry surmised, relieved.

“I knew, of course,” Neville admitted bluntly, “where Ginny was.”

“Neville!” Frank spluttered.

“She all but took out an article in the Prophet to publicise her affair, Dad,” Neville said, not even looking at his father.  “I’d known ever since she started it.”

Harry sat forward.  “We know you didn’t do this, Neville, but it would help us a lot if we had a timeline of who knew what when.”

Neville sighed and rubbed his forehead.  “We were already on the rocks when we married…”

“Why didn’t you say something?!” protested Frank, surprise written over all over his Longbottom long face.

“I did,” Neville said, still not looking towards his father, “you didn’t listen and eventually I stopped saying anything to save myself the ‘she’s a perfect wife for the Boy Who Lived’ speech that you and Albus both trotted out whenever I’d say I had doubts.”

Harry hid his wince.  He felt Frank’s dawning horror that he’d likely pressured his son into an unhappy marriage.

Hermione coughed lightly.  “Your relationship wasn’t the best when you married…” she prompted primly.

“We both knew that we fundamentally wanted different things in life by that point,” Neville sighed.  “But I thought it was no worse than being arranged really and I thought that Ginny and I were fond of each other, friends even if our romantic feelings had faded.”  His lips twisted.  “I figured we could make a go of it.”

“When did you change your mind?” asked Harry gently.

Neville gave a humourless laugh.  “On our wedding night.”

Harry blinked.

“It was clear she wanted the fictional Boy Who Lived as her husband and not me,” Neville continued.  “We had a fantastic row and I ended up sleeping on the couch in my dressing room.”  He gestured towards Harry.  “It only went downhill from there.  If I spoke to a friend, I was cheating on her; my job wasn’t important enough; I didn’t take her places; she didn’t understand why she couldn’t have full access to all the Longbottom vaults!  It was one thing after another.”

“Who knew your marriage was in trouble?” asked Hermione.

Neville rubbed his forehead.  “I didn’t confide in anyone until Christmas just gone.  I ended up talking with Pomona about it after I got silly drunk at the staff party.”  He shook his head and stared at the ceiling.  “Most of our peers from Hogwarts probably knew by then anyway.  I got a couple of anonymous notes telling me about the affair when it started.  I figured one was from Violet since she didn’t exactly hide her handwriting and the other was likely Susan Bones since she did.  Luna told me outright after she met me in Hogsmeade when I was chaperoning the first student weekend outing of the Winter term.” He gave a snort.  “Ron even tried to tell me at Easter not to listen to any rumours because Ginny would never have an affair, never mind one with Malfoy.”

Frank’s surprise resonated in the room; it felt like he’d been hit in the face with a plank of wood.  Harry pushed the feeling away and focused on Neville.

Neville sighed. “They met openly at The Willington Arms in Soho every second Saturday like clockwork.”  He made a vague gesture with one hand.  “Everyone also knows that Draco and Astoria have an open marriage.  They were arranged from childhood but don’t really like each other.  Astoria’s got her own arrangement up in Edinburgh with Oliver Wood.”

“Right,” Harry said, wondering if he’d be so blasé about infidelity if he’d been raised with the expectation of a wizarding marriage instead of knowing he’d likely end up married to his Sentinel.  He was also confused because he was certain Violet had once told them Wood was gay when he’d escorted her to some kind of Quidditch league party.

Hermione’s own bewilderment added to his own for a second before he wrestled both behind their shields.

“I figured Ginny was doing it to punish me for wanting to wait for children,” Neville said.  “That was the last big fight we had before I left for the conference.  I thought I’d wait the affair out until she got bored with it or Draco got bored.  Pomona’s advice was to talk with her and try and resolve things, but I’d had enough.  If she wanted to act like a brat, I didn’t want to bother arguing about it.”

“I understand you decided to push ahead with a divorce though.  What changed?” asked Harry.

Neville briefly felt completely devastated and Harry waited as Neville wrestled with his emotions.  “Two weeks ago, Ginny informed me she was pregnant.”

There was an audible gasp and Frank got to his feet and walked over to place a hand on his son’s shoulder.

“It wasn’t mine, I have a contraceptive charm,” Neville hastened to assure his father, “it was Draco’s.  Ginny and I hadn’t been intimate in months.”

Hermione leaned forward.  “She wanted you to pretend it was yours.”

“Yes,” Neville said, a note of relief that she’d worked it out in his voice.  “She said I could blood adopt the baby in ritual once they were born and nobody need know.” He looked askance at them.

“But she had to have known people knew about her affair?” Harry frowned at Ginny’s sheer and unmitigated gall.  He was suddenly glad not to have known her.

“She claimed people would assume that she took precautions with her lover that she didn’t with her husband,” Neville said derisively.  “I told her that I was going to start divorce proceedings and asked her to leave the Reach.  She asked for time to make arrangements and I reluctantly agreed.”  He sighed heavily. “Looking back, I believe she thought she’d convince me to change my mind, but I stayed in my quarters at Hogwarts to avoid seeing her and started to reconnect with friends who I’d pushed to the side because of her jealousy as a way to make her see I was serious.”

“Was her meeting with Malfoy the night of her death their first liaison since her pregnancy confession?” asked Hermione, tilting her head.

“I can’t say with certainty,” Neville said.  “Maybe?”

Hermione hummed.  Harry had a feeling she had a theory, but he’d wait until they were alone before he asked her.

“Did you tell anyone else about the pregnancy?” asked Hermione.

“No,” Neville shook his head, “but I know she told her mother because Molly apparently told Albus, and he ambushed me last week with another ‘Ginny is the perfect wife for you’ speech.”  He rolled his eyes expressively.  “Sarah definitely knew – she also ambushed me soon after Ginny told me, trying to tell me that Ginny’s plan was the right thing to do.  You might want to speak to her.  She’s been completely distraught since we found out about Ginny’s death.  Agatha’s with her now.”

Harry nodded.  He took a breath and asked the question he wanted to ask. “Do you think Draco killed her?”

Neville’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.  “I don’t doubt he’s capable of it, but…”

“But?” prompted Hermione.

“He’s an idiot in many ways,” Neville said caustically, “but even I don’t think he’s stupid enough to kill her in his own hotel room and get found with the body by the Aurors in the morning.  If I had to guess, she was killed because someone’s trying to ruin him.”

Harry quickly glanced at Hermione, and they silently agreed that they’d likely gotten everything they needed from their discussion with Neville.  They got to their feet and Neville swiftly followed, dislodging his father’s hand from his shoulder.  

“Can we do anything to help you, Neville?” Harry asked.  He could feel grief lurking underneath Neville’s calm and he wanted to help him somehow.

Neville shook his head but stopped.  “Actually…” he began a touch nervously, “Ginny, her body…she’s still with the DOM.  Could you see if they could release her?  I’d like to get on with the funeral arrangements.”

“We’ll check on what’s happening,” Harry promised.

“Thank you,” Neville glanced back at his father.  “Let me walk you back to the Floo.”

Hermione engaged Neville in a conversation about the history of the house as they made their way back and Harry listened quietly registering Neville’s genuine pride and affection for his family home.

They all shook hands again in front of the hearth as Neville made his goodbyes. 

“I’m sorry about Dad,” Neville began awkwardly.

Harry shook his head.  “He’s got a right to be protective of you, Neville.  You got saddled with all of Dumbledore’s obsession with the prophecy because the old goat didn’t believe that a Guide was the ‘power the Dark Lord knew not.’  Your Dad’s right to be angry at me and mine for letting you remain a target for the Dark Tosser, especially when you ended up in that graveyard.”

“I ended up in that graveyard because Malfoy hated us for being Light,” Neville said dryly.  “Riddle knew the truth even if Albus didn’t.  I don’t resent you for flying under the spell-fire with the wizarding world, you know.  I just wish I could have done the same, especially since you actually did defeat the bastard, not me.”

Harry shrugged.  He was immensely grateful that he’d managed to hide away the reality that he had killed Voldemort.

“Despite everything, it’s good to see you both,” Neville said, sadness edging into his words. 

“Maybe when this is done, we can try and get to know each other better,” Harry offered.

Neville brightened.  “I’d like that.” 

“I know my Mum and Violet would like to visit if you’re up to it,” Harry added.

“Maybe I’ll visit them,” Neville said, darting a look back down the corridor.  He sighed and waved a hand at the door.  “I’d better get back.  Good luck at the Ministry this afternoon.”

Harry watched him leave.

“He’s a good man,” Hermione remarked.

“He deserves a lot better than that sham of a marriage he was trapped in,” Harry noted.

Hermione hummed again.  “Hold that thought till we get home.” She tossed in the Floo powder and stepped into the flames.  “Burton Hall!”

Harry smiled at the address she’d called and followed his Sentinel.  They had a lot to talk about before they went to the Ministry and their London home was the perfect place.

o-O-o

Harry knew his Sentinel was working through her thoughts.  He didn’t protest when she discarded the wizarding robe she’d worn for their visit to Neville in a heap on their sofa and went to brood in their study.  He briefly retrieved a note from the waiting Potter owl. 

His Dad’s awful handwriting confirmed that Harry and Hermione were expected at the Ministry at two o’clock.

He dumped his own robe on top of hers and headed into the small kitchen of their apartment in Burton Hall to make a small lunch.  Neither of them were particularly good cooks, but Hermione’s parents had insisted they learn some life skills.

He pulled together cheese and tomato sandwiches, shook out a packet of crisps onto each plate, and finished it with a sliced apple each.  He added tall glasses of iced water for them both.

He lugged everything back into the tiny study room that they’d made out of the second bedroom.  One wall was a floor to ceiling bookshelf, Hermione’s desk was on the left wall, Harry’s on the right.

Harry dumped the tray onto his own desk and handed Hermione her lunch.

She swivelled around in her chair, and he did the same so they could eat together.  They were quiet as they devoured the food.  They’d had a rushed breakfast to make their portkey from Rome in time to meet with Narcissa. 

Hermione set her empty plate aside and picked up the water to take a long drink.  “I needed that,” she admitted.  She put the water down and stretched.

Harry wiped his fingers on a napkin, threw it on the plate and stacked everything back on the tray.  He leaned over and Hermione met him in the middle in a gentle kiss. 

Harry pulled back with a wry smile.  “I needed that.”

Hermione cupped his cheek and stroked a thumb over his jaw.  “I love you very much.”

“I adore you too,” Harry said without hesitation.

Hermione settled back in her chair and Harry did the same.

“We need to spend more time in Britain,” Hermione sighed.  She tucked a stray strand of hair back behind her ear.  “We can’t keep leaving things to James and Sirius.  It’s not fair on them and we’re doing ourselves a disservice not making connections with our own peers.”

“I agree,” Harry said.

Hermione huffed and crossed her arms over her blouse.  “I was expecting more of an argument.”

Harry grinned at her.  “I could give you one if you want.”

She stuck her tongue out at him.

Harry gestured at her, sobering.  “I know why the Dads kept me away from the wizarding world when I was a child.  I mean, even without the whole Voldemort thing, Sirius had to help shield me because the magical enclaves were just too much.  Once my parents decided to separate, we actually went to live in a muggle house until they were able to ward the entirety of Gryffindor House and the estate.” He frowned.  “It still is uncomfortable, but I forget that I’m bonded now and an adult with adult shielding.  I’m not saying we’d find it easy to spend a protracted amount of time in a highly magical and unwarded space, but short visits?”  He nodded.  “We could do those.  We’re expected in an hour at the Ministry by the way.”

Hermione grimaced but nodded. “I was impressed with the wards at Longbottom Reach.”  She shifted in her seat, an unconscious squirm.  “I think I’ve let my prejudice against the wizarding world in Britain unfairly influence our decisions too.  Maybe I hated my time at Hogwarts, but I was a child, and I shouldn’t let it affect me now.”

“You don’t really talk about it,” Harry noted.  He slid his foot towards hers and they tangled up their feet in a familiar way that always gave them comfort.

Hermione sighed.  “I was so excited to get the invitation to Hogwarts.  I thought Professor McGonagall was brilliant and I loved the visit we made with her to Diagon Alley to get all my school things.  I thought Hogwarts and the wizarding world was going to be a new beginning for me.  I wasn’t very popular in junior school.”

Harry waited patiently, knowing she was gathering her thoughts.

“It was terrible from the moment I got on the train really,” Hermione said. 

He saw her fingers clench into her arms.  He sent a wordless wave of reassurance and love through their bond, and she took a deep breath, softening her grip.

“I originally went to get in a carriage with Neville, but his father shooed me into the next one along,” Hermione recalled.  “I’d read all about the Boy Who Lived, of course, so despite my curiosity I kind of understood.  I ended up sharing a carriage with Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott and it was clear they’d known each other for years and…they were polite and friendly enough, but they ended up excluding me from their conversation a lot. I know that they didn’t mean anything nasty by it, but I felt slighted all the same.”

Harry nodded, sympathetically. “My Mum insisted that I attended one of Violet’s birthday parties when she was younger, I didn’t know anyone except Violet, nobody really talked with me.  I was miserable.” 

He’d refused to go to any of her social birthday parties after that, instead insisting that his parents arranged something with just himself and his sister, like they did for his birthday.  He probably owed Violet an apology.

“When we got to Hogwarts, it was so beautiful, and Susan and Hannah Sorted to Hufflepuff, so I told myself, it was meant to be, that I’d find other friends, because I insisted on Sorting into Gryffindor,” Hermione grimaced.  “That was a really, really bad mistake.”

Harry frowned.

“I Sorted there because I admired Professor McGonagall and I’d read that the Headmaster had been a Gryffindor,” Hermione explained, “but really I should have followed the Hat’s advice to Sort to Ravenclaw because I really did not get along with anyone in the House.” She paused.  “Well, Neville was never openly hostile like the others in our year, but he didn’t openly befriend me either since Ron Weasley was one of the most awful.”

“You were bullied,” Harry deduced.

“Horribly,” Hermione confirmed.  She waved a hand at him and offered a sheepish smile.  “I mean, I also know now that my own behaviour of lecturing others about rules and trying to prove I was worthy by bragging about my knowledge every minute wasn’t exactly conducive to building friendships; I was very socially inept at eleven.”

“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” Harry said, sending her another rush of love.

Hermione hummed.  “At Halloween, I was hiding, crying my eyes out in a girls’ toilet, because Weasley told me I was a know-it-all who deserved to be hated when I corrected him in a practical Charms lesson.”

Harry felt his own protectiveness for his Sentinel rise in a rush of anger.  Her knowing smile allowed him to take a breath and push it away.

“A troll found me,” Hermione said, “and I awoke and went feral, tore its head clean off with accidental magic and the help of Aslan who just appeared beside me.  Professor McGonagall stunned me, and I was taken to the infirmary.”

Harry waited.  He’d known in the abstract that a troll attack had triggered her Sentinel gift but hearing it in Hermione’s crisp words was horrifying.

“I came to with your bossy owl guarding me because Professor McGonagall was arguing with Professor Dumbledore,” Hermione said.  “She wanted to ward Hogwarts properly and have me a stay a student there.  Dumbledore told her he wouldn’t ward Hogwarts, that Sentinels and Guides had no place in the wizarding world, and that he certainly wasn’t going to make an exception for a child who’d proven herself so charmless that she had no friends after two months of being at the school.”

Harry gaped at her.

“Then, I heard Professor McGonagall say that if he’d let her intervene and punish people for bullying me like she’d wanted, I would never have been in the toilet,” Hermione grimaced.  “He then came out with some twaddle that it wasn’t really bullying.”

“We should find some way to hex him,” Harry muttered.  “I know my Dads would be up for it.”

Hermione laughed.  “Let’s not encourage them.”  She sighed.  “When she confirmed that it was his fault that the troll was even in the school because of some mad scheme of his, my innate respect for authority figures died on the spot, I think.”  She smiled.  “I must have fallen asleep again because when I woke up, there was only Professor McGonagall and Madame Pomfrey until Sirius showed up to take me to the clinic.” 

“I think I’m glad I never went to Hogwarts,” Harry said fervently.

“In some ways I don’t regret it because I met you the next day, and that was the best day of my life,” Hermione said.

“Mine too,” Harry smiled at her.  Their platonic bond had snapped into place as soon as they’d laid eyes on each other.  They’d instantly become best friends and neither of them had been lonely or alone since.  Transitioning to a more romantic bond as adults had been easy.

“Like I said, I realised this morning though that I’ve allowed my views from back then to influence our avoidance to date,” Hermione said.  “I know if I’d challenged you earlier, we’d probably have gotten to this decision sooner.”

Harry shrugged.  “Maybe.”

“And maybe your mother would like me more,” Hermione quipped with a chagrined grin.

Harry reached over and took her hand.  “She hates that we’re a Sentinel and Guide and she hates that we live together without being married.”  He kissed her hand and let her go.  “Although given that everyone seems to be having affairs all over the place in the wizarding world anyway, I’m really not sure why she’s so keen on us getting married.”

If he considered it logically, his own father and Sirius were in effect having a long-term affair since they’d been fully and romantically bonded since his third birthday, and his parents had never divorced.

“I think she’s very traditional in many ways,” Hermione noted.  “Didn’t you say your aunt was too?”

Harry nodded.  He’d rarely met his mother’s sister, but on the few occasions they had met, Petunia had struck him as unbearably stuck-up and old-fashioned in her attitudes – and he didn’t even want to think about her husband and son.

“I can’t imagine why she wouldn’t just divorce James otherwise,” Hermione said.

Harry grimaced.  He’d always thought it was partly spite because she didn’t want his Dad to be able to marry Sirius, and partly because she truly was still in love with him.

Hermione’s expression softened as she read his mixed-up feelings through their bond.

“I get the impression it’s more typical for wizards and witches in Britain to marry young,” Hermione murmured. 

“Arrangements are still a thing,” Harry said.  “I know Dad thought about an arrangement for Violet when she started Hogwarts, but she’s a latent Sentinel and he didn’t want her ending up trapped in a marriage if her gifts awoke and Mum wasn’t keen on her not having a choice of who she married.”

Hermione nodded in understanding.  “So, arrangements are common still in the wizarding world, which means that there is a tacit understanding that the arranged will look outside of the marriage like with Draco and Astoria.”

“Although I’m sure Wood’s gay so I’m not sure Neville’s intel is right on Astoria,” Harry pointed out.

“Or they could be beards for each other,” Hermione said.  “I suspect being gay isn’t exactly done in pureblood circles just as it still isn’t accepted everywhere in the muggle world.”

“It’ll be interesting to see what Draco says,” Harry sighed, accepting Hermione’s point.  “We should probably review what we know.”

Hermione waved her hand and her notepad floated over to her.  “What we know for certain: Ginny Weasley set her cap at the Boy Who Lived and married Neville two years ago.  The marriage was expected and considered by the adults in Neville’s life as perfect for him.”

Harry smiled at her dry tone.

“They were unhappily married,” Hermione continued, “and she began an affair with Draco Malfoy in August last year.  The affair was known to Ginny and Neville’s peer group, but less so to the adults in Neville’s orbit.”

Harry nodded.  “Frank was surprised that he was unhappy.”

“So was your mother,” Hermione confirmed.  She tapped her notebook.  “I’m not certain if they knew of the rumours and discounted them, or whether they were blind to Neville’s unhappiness.”

“Maybe both?” Harry mused.  “I wouldn’t be surprised if Neville’s withdrawal from his usual circle probably impacted by Mum to some extent as well as Violet.  If Mum was around him less and he was pretending everything was fine…”

“She wouldn’t know,” Hermione nodded sharply in agreement.  She held up the notebook.  “At least two weeks ago, Ginny became aware that she was pregnant by her lover.  She told Neville, bizarrely expecting him to accept the baby as his own.  Neville refused and determined to divorce her.  She asked for time to make arrangements.”

“She thought she could talk him around to her idea,” Harry surmised.

Hermione nodded again.  “I think she had some kind of plan, certainly.”

Harry cocked his head as he considered her wording.  “You think it wasn’t as benign as that.”

Hermione shook her head.  “I think she had spent her entire life planning to be Lady Longbottom and how it was going to be.  Neville ruined the fantasy for her with the reality of his wants and needs in his wife.  I believe the affair and the baby…she was trying to force him back into his role as her knight in shining armour.”

Harry frowned.  “Only Neville refused her fantasy again.”

“She must have been desperate,” Hermione said, “and desperate people do desperate things.”

Harry sighed.  “Neville definitely didn’t kill her.”

“He’s innocent,” Hermione agreed, “which suggests whatever plan she had either wasn’t fully formed or hadn’t been put into play with Neville himself at the time of her death.”

“The ambushes might have been part of it though,” Harry deduced.  “We’ll have to question the Molly and Sarah in particular.”  There was a rightness in the psionic plane at his words. 

They were on the right path.  Something about Ginny’s plan to keep Neville married to her and for him to accept the baby had gotten her killed.

“I also suspect she might have tried to embroil her lover,” Hermione said, “we’ll need to ask Draco about it.”  

“We should go to the hotel before the Ministry,” Harry said.  “I’d like us to get a sense of what happened there without the Ministry’s view of the evidence.”

Hermione waved her wand in a silent ‘tempus’ spell.  “Then we should go now then if we don’t want to be late at the Ministry itself.”

Harry leaped to his feet and negligently sent the plates off to wash themselves with a wave of his wand. 

Hermione rolled her eyes at him, but she was grinning as she summoned their robes.

o-O-o

The Willington Arms was a small boutique wizarding hotel situated on the outskirts of Soho between a lauded muggle restaurant that Harry eyed eagerly and a muggle townhouse which had been converted into a few flats.  The street itself was heaving with coffee shops, restaurants and small boutiques.  The curbs were filled with bustling Londoners and lost tourists.

Harry and Hermione entered the hotel, the faint shimmer of magic prickling against their skin.  The wards were typical of the British wizarding world’s public spaces – in other words, unadjusted for Sentinels and Guides.

Harry reached out and wrapped Hermione in another layer of mental shielding and got a pulse of gratitude down their bond.

The front desk was manned by an attractive young witch who smiled happily at Harry, ignoring Hermione’s presence entirely. Harry’s lips twitched as Hermione mentally rolled her eyes and stepped forward to brandish their identifications.

The witch scurried into the back to get the manager.  A small rotund wizard immediately barrelled out and ushered them hurriedly into his back office.

“Viscount Potter,” the manager began obsequiously.

“Guide Potter in this particular matter, Mister Warren,” Harry interrupted.

Warren mopped his sweating head.  “Yes, of course.  I thought the Aurors were satisfied that they had everything?”

“Viscount Malfoy invoked his right as a latent Sentinel to have the Order investigate,” Hermione said crisply.  “We’d like to see the room, the guest registry, and the records from the security wards.”

Warren sat heavily in his plush leather chair and mopped his brow again.  “The Aurors took the Registry.  All our security ward alerts go automatically into the security firm, Safe and Secure.  It’s operated by Michael Greengrass.  You will have to enquire with them.  We have no remote access.”

“They respond if the ward gets triggered?” asked Hermione.

“Yes,” Warren confirmed.  His beady pale blue eyes darted everywhere but in the vicinity of Harry and Hermione.

“Were you aware that Draco Malfoy and Ginevra Longbottom were having an affair using your hotel, Mister Warren?” Hermione asked bluntly.

Warren nodded, although his eyes affixed to the door past Hermione’s shoulder.  “We make no judgements on our clientele and Viscount Malfoy has always been a loyal customer.  Our discretion is renowned.”

“So, none of your staff nor you spoke to anyone outside of the hotel about the affair?” asked Hermione.

Warren shook his head.  “Not to my knowledge.  There is only Miss Gally and I on staff apart from the house elves.  We know that our employment is contingent on our discretion.”

Remarkably it was the truth. 

“Did you see anything suspicious the night of the murder?” asked Hermione.

Warren shook his head again.  “Miss Gally departed on schedule at six, and I left as is my usual practice at nine.  Lobby, the senior house elf, is available for guests after this.” He sighed and mopped his head with his sodden handkerchief.  “Viscount Malfoy and his guest checked into the room at eight.  They had a meal for two delivered by remote room service at half-past and the Viscount ordered a night-cap at eleven according to the logs.  I did give the Aurors all this information.”  

“We appreciate you going over this for our benefit, Mister Warren,” Harry said soothingly.

“Perhaps Miss Gally can show us to the room now?” asked Hermione briskly.  “I assume it hasn’t been rented out since the murder?”

Warren blanched and hurriedly shook his head.  “The Aurors ordered for it to remain unavailable for the time being.”  He grimaced and got out of his chair.  “I’d appreciate your discretion.  This whole matter has been a terrible blow for our reputation.”

Harry swallowed a completely inappropriate urge to laugh.  Hermione shot him a knowing look as they followed the bustling chap back through the main foyer and directed the receptionist to show them to the room before he departed swiftly back to his office. 

The young witch did a reasonable job of hiding her dismay at the order and led them to a lift.  The three of them entered the rickety box. 

Harry waited until Sandra had tapped the floor button before he spoke.

“Thank you for your help with this, Miss Gally,” Harry said softly.

Miss Gally blushed.  “It’s no problem.”

“Before we get to the room, perhaps we can ask you a couple of questions?” Harry suggested.

Miss Gally nodded quickly.  “Of course.”

He repeated the questions he’d asked Warren, but Miss Gally’s answer was the same and just as truthful: she was aware of the affair, but she had never spoken about the guests to her friends or family, and she had left at six the night of the murder.  She’d arrived the next morning to the presence of Aurors already on site having been alerted to the death she presumed by the security firm.  

They went up to the third floor and she hurried them down a corridor which only had two rooms.  The one on the right had a door near to the lift, but they headed for the one right at the bottom of the corridor.

Miss Gally tapped a sequence on the door and it opened.  “I’ll return to the front desk.”  She left before they could say otherwise.

Hermione shrugged and entered the room.  She immediately reached for Harry’s hand to anchor herself.

“What do you sense?” asked Harry.

She breathed deeply, her brow furrowing as her eyes narrowed taking in the room.  She wrinkled her nose.

“They definitely had sex,” Hermione said dryly.  “I think Draco used a cleaning spell on the sheets before he went to sleep but it’s evident.”  She let go of him and crossed to the bedside table.  She pointed at the heavy crystal glass.  “There was some kind of sleeping potion in the glass alongside the whiskey he drank.”

“We’ll ask him about that,” Harry said, grimly.  He noted that the glass was from a set by the sideboard.

“Ginny was already dead when she was brought back into the room,” Hermione said.  “There’s a faint scent trail from the door to the bed.” She turned abruptly and walked out.  She paused in the middle of the corridor and sighed heavily.  “It’s too faint.  The corridor has been cleaned.”

Harry frowned as she re-entered the room and closed the door.

“What are the empathetic impressions?” asked Hermione.

Harry took hold of his Sentinel’s hand and opened his shields.  He let the discomfort of the magical ambience fade before he reached out with his empathy.  He grimaced.

“Lust,” Harry muttered, “a lot of it.”

“Be grateful you can’t smell it,” Hermione commented dryly.

“Satisfaction,” Harry murmured.  “Someone was deeply satisfied with what was happening.”  He shook his head.  “The Aurors were very satisfied to find Draco with a dead body.” He paused.  “I can sense panic and shock too, but I don’t think it was the Aurors.”

Hermione nodded.  She squeezed his hand.  “We should get to the Ministry.  I have a lot of questions.”

Harry nodded.  They left the room and headed for the lift.  It was time to interview Draco.

o-O-o

Rufus Scrimgeour, the Head Auror, made no bones of his dislike of their investigation from the moment the young Junior Auror ushered them into the wizard’s office.  Introductions were brief and terse.

He pointed at the box on the table across the room from his desk.  “I had everything brought up for you from the DOM’s Forensic team and the Auror team who responded.”

“What’s your view of the evidence?” asked Hermione crisply.

“Malfoy is a sly bastard like his father before him and his father before him,” Scrimgeour said brusquely.  “They’re a bad lot.  You’re not in Britain a lot; you don’t know what they’re like.”

Harry raised his eyebrows and exchanged a look with Hermione.  Since they had been the ones to arrest Lucius Malfoy, they were very well aware of the family history.

Of course, Scrimgeour wasn’t aware of their involvement.

The Order and Magical Interpol had spearheaded the investigation of Voldemort’s demise at the graveyard.  The DMLE and the Ministry had been informed only of the barest bones of events (Neville’s kidnapping, Voldemort’s attempt at resurrection, the defeat of Voldemort) and subsequent conviction of Malfoy.  Neville had gone on public record as stating he had not defeated Voldemort, but the British press and Dumbledore’s propaganda had painted Neville as too humble and that he had defeated Voldemort really.

Harry opened the box and pulled out a wand.  Malfoy’s.  There was no second wand.

“Where’s Ginevra Longbottom’s wand?” asked Hermione.

“It’s already been returned to the family,” Scrimgeour snapped.

Both Harry and Hermione frowned.

Hermione picked up the folder that had been stuffed into the box and paged through it.  She handed it to Harry.

Harry grimaced at the minimal investigation that had been done.

Malfoy had been discovered because there had been an anonymous alert sent to the Aurors of a death in the room at the hotel.  The security firm had claimed they had not sent the alert.  Their records were not part of the gathered evidence.  There was no follow-up.

The guest registry was included in the paperwork.  Five guests were listed at the hotel including the deceased and her paramour.  One older woman, Anna Miller, and a couple, the Cannons.  The other guests had not been tracked down or questioned by the Aurors.

The room service log for Malfoy’s room verified that there had been a shared evening meal of venison pie with spring vegetables accompanied by a red elf wine delivered via the serving table, and a whiskey delivered to the in-room glass.

The DOM’s Forensic team had tested a swab from the glass and found an over-the-counter sleep potion and whiskey evident.  They’d also tested Ginevra Longbottom’s wand before returning it.  The spells were consistent with a woman on a night out with a lover.  Draco’s wand was wiped clean.

Ginny’s body had been autopsied by the DOM.  They had validated that she was in the very stages of a pregnancy.  She’d been killed with the Unforgiveable Avada Kedavra, spell residue on her back.     

That was it.

The summary of the investigation.

Harry placed the folder into the box with the wand and tapped it with his wand.  An Order seal snapped around the top of the box.  Harry tapped it again, sending it to the Order’s office which was situated on the same the London estate as their residence at Burton Hall.

“What are…” Scrimgeour began to bluster.

“The Order has taken over jurisdiction of this case, any evidence or paperwork belongs to the Order,” Hermione stated firmly.  “Neville asked us to enquire if the body could be released.  Since the autopsy and cause of death has been established, I assume there are no problems with that?”

For a long second it appeared that Scrimgeour was wrestling with his temper.  He gave a short nod.

“Then we’d like to see the accused now.” Hermione said. 

Scrimgeour stood up abruptly and strode out of the office.  They followed him through a gawking bullpen of Aurors and into a corridor.  They were directed to an interrogation room. 

“I’ll have him brought up from the cells,” Scrimgeour growled at them.

Hermione sniffed as he left and they both made a careful circuit of the room, noting the two-way mirror as they did.

They sat opposite it and Hermione drew a parchment and quill from her robe pocket.

Two grim-faced male Aurors all but shoved Draco Malfoy through the door.  They closed it with a slam.

Harry took in the sight of the sullen blond aristocrat. 

Malfoy looked bedraggled in a grey jumpsuit, his hands and feet shackled with magical suppressors and chains.  His blond hair was askew and his sharp Malfoy features looked drawn.

“I did not kill her,” Malfoy announced.

Truth, thought Harry.

Hermione waved Malfoy into the chair opposite them. 

Malfoy lifted his hands and shook them to make the chains jangle.  “I’d like to leave now.”

Harry lifted an eyebrow as Hermione snorted.

“We’re not here just to be your personal lie-detector, Malfoy,” Hermione said sharply.  “You requested we take over the investigation, the Order has done so.  Sit down.”

Malfoy twisted his lips into a sneer.

“You cooperate or we’ll remand you to the Order cells for obstruction,” Hermione continued. 

Malfoy sat.  He gave a hard nod.  “You certainly landed on your feet, Granger.” He glanced at Harry.  “Sentinel to the European Order’s First Guide, what an honour.” 

“Yes, it is,” Hermione said honestly.

Malfoy’s eyes raked over Harry.  “And Potter.  You are Sirius’ heir?” He sniffed.  “You didn’t even attend a magical school.  I can see why he’s failed to introduce us.”

Harry simply smiled and refused to let the wizard get under his skin.  “Tell us about your evening with Ginevra Longbottom.”

Malfoy regarded him with an intent look before he shrugged and sat back in his chair.  “We had a standing engagement, every two weeks at The Willington Arms.  We usually met in the lobby just before eight.  We met as usual.  There was another couple ahead of us, Polyjuiced.  Warren sent them up to the room next to ours.  They were already ensconced when Gin and I went up.”

Harry saw Hermione making notes on a parchment.  If the Cannons had been disguised, it was unlikely that was their real name either.

“Gin ordered us food while I cast the usual privacy spells,” Malfoy smiled at them grimly.  “We had our meal, had sex and she used the facilities to bathe as was our typical routine.  I ordered a nightcap while she bathed, and teamed it with a sleeping potion.  I cast a cleaning charm and when she left, I went to bed immediately as the sleeping potion was taking effect.  I was woken up by an Auror shaking me awake, pointing a wand in my face and demanding to know what had happened to Gin.  As I was being dragged from the bed, I realised she was in it, dead.”

There was something about Malfoy’s bravado that didn’t feel right, but Harry couldn’t pin it.  He checked with Hermione and noted the wrinkle in the middle of her brow which meant something was off in Malfoy’s rendition, but she couldn’t pin it either.

Hermione tapped her wand and invoked a privacy bubble around their room.  “Were you aware that she was pregnant with your child?”

For a brief second, Malfoy looked and felt perturbed.  “Yes.”  He breathed in slowly.  “She had informed me at our previous assignation.  She informed me that she was certain Longbottom would step up to take care of her and the child and she did not need my involvement.”  He bit his lip.  “Perhaps you should speak to Longbottom about his whereabouts.  Apparently, he wasn’t as thrilled as she had thought he would be to claim another man’s child as his heir.  She told me that night would be our last dalliance as she had to convince the hapless idiot of her contrition.”

Deflection, Harry deduced.  Malfoy had to know the pregnancy gave him a motive to silence Ginny and he was providing other suspects.

“Did your wife know about the pregnancy?” asked Hermione crisply, ignoring the jibe about Neville.

Malfoy grimaced.  “She is unaware.” He waved his cuffed hands.  “Oh, she’s obviously aware that Gin and I were having an affair.  She has one of her own, of course.  But I did not tell her of the pregnancy, so to my knowledge she does not know.”

“Would she have murdered Ginevra Longbottom and framed you if she did know?” asked Harry, genuinely curious.

“Not Astoria’s style,” Malfoy said.  For a second, it looked like he’d say more, but he remained silent.

It was the truth as Malfoy believed it, Harry mused.  And it was interesting that as quick as Malfoy had been to throw Neville under the bus, he was quick to eliminate Astoria as a suspect in her murder.

“Malfoy,” Harry leaned forward, “this looks to be clearly aimed at framing you and causing you trouble, with the added benefit of ruining Ginevra Longbottom’s reputation post-mortem.  Apart from Neville, who else may have wanted to do such a thing?”

Malfoy looked startled by the question.  He blinked slowly as he considered it. 

“People are incredibly jealous of me, of my family,” he said finally, “I’m not sure I can provide you with a definitive list.” He pursed his lips.  “You may want to consider relooking at the blessed Boy Who Lived or his family.  None of them have ever truly liked Ginny including her own supposed best friend.”

Harry stilled, sensing something important in the accusation.  “Why would you say that?”

“Gin got an owl half-way through dinner from said best friend delivered by a house elf,” Malfoy drawled.  “It was basically a note stating Gin was wrong and to reconsider what she was planning.”

“And you didn’t think this was relevant before?” asked Hermione exasperated.

Malfoy shrugged.  “Gin banished the note and hinted she knew something about the saintly Sarah that would ruin the Longbottoms if Neville didn’t come around to her plan about the baby.  She refused to tell me and distracted me.”  He waggled his eyebrows.

Harry let the disgust roll through him and kept his expression bland.  “I think it would be prudent for you to remain in the Order’s custody for your own protection until we have this resolved.”

“I agree,” Hermione said.  She took a sock from her robe and threw it at Malfoy.  He disappeared, mid-splutter of protest, as he caught the portkey.

Harry wasn’t surprised when the door opened almost immediately and Scrimgeour burst through.

“What have you done with the prisoner?!” Scrimgeour roared.

“Transferred him to Order custody,” Hermione said bluntly.  “I think we already had this conversation about the evidence box?”  She stood up gracefully.  “Thank you for your time, but we must be getting on with the investigation.”

Harry offered his arm, and she placed her hand in the crook of his elbow as he escorted her from the room without a word to the almost apoplectic Head Auror. 

A scarred man with a false leg awaited them at the end of the corridor.  “Malfoy is an evil bastard.”

“His words were truthful, Moody,” Harry said briskly.  His fathers had introduced him to Moody as a child and he’d admired the old wizard Auror back then.  As an adult he could see how Moody’s prejudices blinded him. 

“Just because he didn’t do it himself, doesn’t mean that he didn’t arrange for it to happen!”  Moody huffed and stomped off.

“Wow, I’d forgotten how paranoid he could be,” Hermione commented in a low voice as they turned the corner to take them to the lift.

“He is,” Harry agreed, “but you know what they say?  Just because you’re paranoid, it doesn’t mean that no-one is out to get you.”

Hermione rolled her eyes.  “Whether he’s right or not, the Ministry made a complete pig’s ear of this investigation.  We have a lot of work to get through this afternoon!”

Harry grimaced as they entered the lift.  She wasn’t wrong either.

o-O-o

“We come bearing gifts!” Sirius announced as he entered.  He dropped a kiss on Harry’s forehead and held up the bags of Indian takeaway.

Harry’s mood improved tenfold.  He was starving.  He waved Sirius inside and accepted a hug from his harried looking Dad.  “You OK?”

“Just dealing with irate wizards and witches all afternoon,” James said dryly.  “You and Hermione certainly caused waves in the wizarding world today.”

Harry shrugged.  “It’s a murder investigation not a social tea party.”

James grinned at him.  “You threw your juice over Dumbledore the last time you actually attended one.”

“I was eight!” Harry said, defending himself as he closed the flat door and waved his father towards the kitchen where he could already hear Sirius starting to gather plates.  “He was rude about you and Sirius!”

His mother had been horrified but he wasn’t surprised when his Dad’s expression softened at the memory.  “It is one of my most treasured moments of your childhood.”  He nudged Harry’s arm.  “Go grab your Sentinel, we’ll get the food sorted.”

Harry went to follow James’ order, but it turned out he didn’t have to wrangle Hermione away from the investigation after all since he met her coming out of the study.

“Is that curry?” Hermione demanded, snagging his arm and pulling him back towards the kitchen.  “I’m starving!”

They sat crowded around the kitchen table, the take-away in the centre and them all piling little servings of everything on their plates.  It was almost a full five minutes of eating in silence, all of them abating their hunger before they started talking.

“So, which irate wizards and witches called you?” asked Hermione, her eyes bright with interest.

“Which didn’t would be a better question,” Sirius quipped.  He held up a finger.  “Narcissa, who was irate that you remanded her precious baby boy into protective custody,” he added a finger, “Frank who was irate about the whole investigation and you going around him to Neville,” he added another finger, “Scrimgeour,” another finger, “Moody,” another finger, “your mother,” he started to raise his other hand.

“Hold on,” Harry said, waving a piece of naan bread.  “Why was Mum irate?”

Sirius threw a look at James with a silent plea for him to answer.

“Honestly, I’m not entirely certain,” James replied, in an almost apologetic tone.  “But I think it was something to do with you only visiting because you wanted information rather than visiting just to visit her.”

“We visit,” Harry retorted.  He gestured apologetically with the naan.  “Sorry, you’re just the messenger.  She should have called me if she wanted to complain.”

His Dad shrugged and met his eyes with surprising sobriety.  “I said the same.  You’re an adult now, and your relationship with her is your own business.”

“I don’t visit her that often because of the wards,” Harry said firmly, “and because she hates that I’m a Guide and I’m with Hermione who is my Sentinel.”

Hermione sent him a rush of love through their bond.

Sirius poked him in his side. “Maybe tell that to your Mum.”

Harry sighed.  “I will.” He motioned again with the naan.  “I was going to offer to upgrade the wards.  Longbottom Reach’s were great.”

James winced.  “I offered once a while back so I could visit Violet more often there,” he admitted, “and she refused.” He waved his own piece of naan at Harry.  “I thought at the time she was just refusing because of me so you may have better luck convincing her.”

Harry nodded. 

“Actually, tangentially related to your point on dealing with irate wizards and witches,” Hermione said, “Harry and I decided earlier that we should probably spend more time in Britain.”

Surprise flickered across the faces of his Dads.

“We’ve been leaving everything to do with the British magicals to you which isn’t fair,” Harry said.

“We’ll discuss how to restructure the Order here so we can take more of a role once the investigation is finished,” Hermione added, spooning more curry onto her plate.

James blinked owlishly behind his glasses but finally gave a slow nod.  “Well, I can’t say I’m not grateful that you’ve realised the status quo can’t continue without us having to have an argument about it.”

Sirius grinned.  “Your Dad was getting wound up thinking about how to tackle the topic with you.”

Harry shot his Dad another apologetic look. 

“It’s not all your fault, Harry,” his Dad said gently, “we’ve been as overly protective about you as Frank is about Neville in many ways.”

Sirius looked sheepish as he nodded in agreement.  “We put ourselves forward as a shield between you and the British wizarding world, and we don’t regret it because it meant we could take down Voldemort without interfering old busybodies and see you grow up without the horror of the publicity Dumbles brought down on Neville,” he said, “but it is probably time for us to step back a bit.”

Harry and Hermione nodded. 

“And honestly, if you annoy Narcissa again in this investigation, I’m throwing her at you two to handle on your own,” his Dad remarked fervently.

“She was very mad you didn’t have Draco immediately released as soon as he declared himself innocent,” Sirius said.

Hermione hummed.  “He was telling the truth that he didn’t kill her, but he definitely obfuscated about something.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Sirius said, pushing his empty plate to the side.  “If a Malfoy is breathing, a Malfoy is lying.”

“Moody and Scrimgeour said something along those same lines,” Hermione said. 

“Moody thinks you’re ignoring Malfoy as a suspect and Scrimgeour was very annoyed with you for handling the jurisdiction change in the manner you did,” James said mildly.

“Scrimgeour’s going to get more annoyed with us,” Hermione said sharply, tossing her paper napkin down like a gauntlet.  “He and his Aurors didn’t even bother investigating fully.  I’ll be making a complaint to Director Bones and insisting that in future we are called in for any case involving a Sentinel or Guide – whatever their status.”

“That’s not going to win you friends,” his Dad cautioned.

“Maybe not,” Harry said, before Hermione jumped in, “but it is needed.  I don’t like Malfoy, but they paid lip service to actually investigating the murder.”

“Are you able to share what you’ve learned?” asked Sirius, his silver eyes alight with curiosity.

“Honestly, it would be good to get your perspective,” Hermione answered, “and I think we can trust you not to tell anyone the details of what we’ve discovered so far.”

Both his Dads nodded.

Harry motioned for Hermione to take lead. 

“To summarise the context, Ginevra Longbottom and Draco Malfoy had been engaging in an affair since August last year,” Hermione said crisply.

“Merlin,” Sirius muttered. 

“It was well known in their peer group, less so outside of it,” Hermione continued.  “Neville was aware and determined that Ginny was conducting the affair as a means of retribution for his not following her plan for their marriage which was unhappy.”  She explained about the pregnancy and Neville’s decision to divorce her rather than submit to Ginny’s plan to take on the child as his own.

His Dad grimaced, running a hand through his own mess of Potter hair.  “I knew Neville wasn’t happy,” he admitted.  “It was clear though that he wasn’t going to confide in me when I tried to get him to admit it, so I left it alone.”

“I think Neville thought his entire adult support system wanted him with Ginny regardless of his own feelings about it,” Harry said bluntly.

“Violet said he was very much expected to marry a Light Gryffindor girl and Ginny fit the bill,” Hermione added.

“Ah, well, bugger,” Sirius muttered grimly, darting a glance at James.  “I don’t think we ever said that explicitly, but I guess, in hindsight, we’ve never made it clear that we would have been happy with whatever bride he chose either.”

James huffed.  “Honestly, I tried not to express any opinion about who Neville married.  I didn’t particularly think he and Ginny were a good match, but I didn’t think my relationship with Frank would take the hit if I objected to the marriage.”

Hermione cleared her throat.  “For the record, we cleared Neville from killing her.”

“Knowing him as I do, I wouldn’t have had him high on the list of suspects regardless that he had the best motive,” James admitted.  “He’s a good man.”

“Same,” Sirius said, “him killing her accidentally in a greenhouse because one of his more carnivorous plants gets out of control, maybe I see that, but the set-up with Draco suggests some kind of premeditation which I can’t see in Neville.”

His Dad stared at his Guide.  “Merlin, Pads, your mind sometimes is a scary place.”

Sirius jabbed a finger at him.  “You almost didn’t get eaten by his Piranha Plant.”

“Well, if you do go sniffing into places as Padfoot that you shouldn’t,” his Dad shot back, his eyes twinkling.

“Gentlemen,” Hermione chided, smiling.  “And for the record, I agree with Sirius.”

“That’s because your mind is also scary,” Harry said. 

Hermione poked him in his ribs even as she laughed.

“So, if Neville is cleared and he had the best motive, and Draco is cleared and he had the next best motive,” Sirius said, “who are the remaining suspects?”

Harry’s head tilted thoughtfully.  “We’re meeting with Astoria Malfoy tomorrow morning.  There was a single woman at the hotel.  Malfoy claims his wife knew about the affair and that was fine because they’re both having an affair apparently…”

“It’s an accepted practice with arranged marriages,” Sirius noted.

“But he also claims she didn’t know about the pregnancy,” Harry said.

“That tracks,” Sirius said, “the contract between the House of Malfoy and the House of Greengrass for the marriage was very specific about them ensuring that they didn’t produce children outside of the marriage with a very harsh monetary penalty and it being grounds for a divorce.”

Hermione’s eyes narrowed on him.  “You’ve seen the contract?”

Sirius nodded.  “We looked it over at Narcissa’s request before Draco was married.  She’s reliant on the Malfoy vault for her own allowance and she wanted to make sure she understood its implications herself.”

Harry pursed his lips.  “So, it’s more to Astoria’s benefit then that she didn’t kill Ginny, but let any pregnancy play out.”

“I would say so,” James said. “I think if Astoria Malfoy had known, I think she would have kidnapped Ginny to some kind of cottage and wrapped her in a bubble until she gave birth.  She hates being married to Draco and makes no pretence about it.”

Harry and Hermione exchanged a glance.  They’d have to meet with Astoria anyway to clear her fully, but it made sense.

“Draco also suggested Ginny had damaging information about the Longbottoms and was planning to use it to force Neville into going along with assuming parentage of her child,” Hermione said. 

“Really?” His Dad frowned.

“Honestly, it felt more like Draco trying to muddy the waters,” Harry said.  “But we’re out of obvious suspects.  Frank was completely surprised by the affair and pregnancy news when Neville was talking to us.  We’re talking to Sarah Longbottom and Molly tomorrow too; they apparently knew.”

James winced.  “That explains the howler we got from Molly then.”

“What’s your plan?” asked Sirius.

“If we take this back to basics, whoever killed Ginny had to have entered the hotel,” Hermione said.  “We managed to get the hotel’s security records this afternoon.  However, something disrupted the security ward around eight that evening until eight in the morning.  The last thing it records is Draco’s entry into the hotel lobby, and the next thing is the arrival of the Aurors.”

“Three other people stayed at the hotel that night.  They had the easiest access,” Harry said.  “They were all gone from the hotel before the ward was re-engaged.  The DMLE hadn’t tracked any of them down and that’s what we’re focusing on.”

“Unfortunately, what we know from the security ward’s records, all three other guests used Polyjuice,” Hermione said, “and examining official records, they all used fake names.”

“The single person is our main suspect,” Harry said.  “When a couple hides their identities, the obvious answer is an affair, a single person…”

“They’re up to no good,” James concluded with a nod.  “I can see why you might have landed on Astoria then as your next suspect.”

“Polyjuice doesn’t last though,” Sirius said. “It’s not fool proof.  They’d have had to continue to use it if they didn’t want to accidentally run into another wizard or witch.”

“And a lot of magical creatures aren’t fooled by it all,” James sighed. 

Harry raised an eyebrow questioningly.

“Uh, we may have found that out when we tried to sneak into the Hogwarts’ kitchens when we were banned by the Head House Elf,” his Dad admitted with a little chagrin.  “The house elves saw right through us.”

“Moony can always tell,” Sirius confirmed.  “Same with the centaurs.”

Hermione nodded absently and Harry sensed her mind whirling to some kind of conclusion as her excitement drifted across to him.  She gestured at the meal.  “Thank you for dinner, but we should get back to it.”

Sirius tapped his wand against the table and the remaining take-away packed itself away and took itself off to the ‘fridge while the dirty plates headed for the sink to wash themselves.

His Dad pulled Harry into a quick embrace.  “Try to get some rest, Harry.”  He smirked as he released him.  “You’re going to need your wits about you when you meet the Weasleys.”

They ushered the Dads out in a flurry of more hugs.

Hermione nudged him.  “Come on, we should get to the hotel.  We have house elves to question!” 

o-O-o

Astoria Malfoy looked on the surface almost like a younger version of Narcissa Malfoy.  Pale white skin almost porcelain in colour, natural pale blonde hair swept into a stylish up-do, and startling blue eyes that were guarded and frosty as they looked back at Harry.

They were gathered in the drawing room at Greengrass Manor.  Astoria had requested the location and they’d seen no reason to object to it.  Harry and Hermione had once again taken a sofa with Astoria in an uncomfortable-looking armchair opposite.

The elderly solicitor, Mathias Greengrass, her great-Uncle sat in a similar chair next to her.  He cleared his throat noisily.

“I didn’t kill Ginevra Longbottom,” Astoria declared. 

Truth, Harry noted.

Hermione nodded.  “Thank you for your confirmation.  We had to eliminate you as a matter of record, of course, and we regret any inconvenience.”

Astoria’s eyes narrowed.  “You did not consider me a suspect?”

“Sirius and James were certain that if you’d known Draco had conceived a child with her, you would have protected Ginny until she gave birth and you could have enacted the terms of your arrangement contract to divorce,” stated Hermione.

She left out that their enquiries with the house elves had identified the lone woman guest as a much older woman than Astoria.

Astoria breathed out sharply.  “They are not wrong.”  She grimaced and waved off her solicitor who tried to interject.  “Unfortunately, the contract only applies to a living child.”

“May we ask you a few questions?” asked Harry.

Astoria nodded after a quick glance to her solicitor.  “How may I help?”

“Who would be on the top of your list as the murder suspect?” asked Harry.

“Draco,” Astoria said immediately.  “The only thing that matters to him is the Malfoy money and status as a pureblood.  He knows I would have enacted the clause in our contract and that would have left him without much of the first at least.  My father was able to negotiate a rather harsh punitive sum given the situation with Lucius.” She arched an eyebrow.  “I’m a little perturbed that you cleared him.”

“He didn’t kill her,” Hermione confirmed.

“Then you should look at Narcissa,” Astoria said firmly.  “Draco probably ran to her as soon as Ginny told him she was pregnant with his child expecting his Mummy to fix everything.”

Narcissa.

That was an interesting take, Harry mused.  She was an older witch which matched the description.

“Your family owns the Safe and Secure firm,” Hermione said, “are you aware of any kind of spell or technology which could disrupt their security wards?”

Her solicitor coughed.  “I’m not sure you should answer that, Astoria.”

“The ward at the hotel was disrupted,” Hermione stated firmly.  “If Lady Malfoy has any insight into how we would appreciate her insight.  We will be asking the same question of her father since he owns the firm.”

Astoria frowned.  Her fingers clenched together, her knuckles turning white.  “It’s a Greengrass family secret.  The disruptor spell is only meant to be used as a failsafe in an emergency.”

“Is the spell shared with your husband as part of the family?” asked Hermione pointedly.

“Yes,” Astoria nodded.  “He took an oath not to share it when we were married.”

“Again, just for the record,” Hermione said, “where were you on the night of the murder?”

Astoria smiled tightly.  “With my own lover in the flat I keep in Edinburgh.  I’ll provide the name and details if you require them.”

“No, that won’t be necessary,” Hermione confirmed soothingly.  She glanced to Harry, and he nodded back at her.

Astoria was telling the truth and they’d achieved what they needed to from the interview.

Their departure was swift with the front door of the Manor closing firmly behind them as they walked back to the apparition point at the end of the street in Hogsmeade.  They hadn’t been invited to use the Floo.

“Well, one blonde down,” Hermione quipped as she hooked her arm into his. 

“And at least another and a whole family of redheads to go!” Harry rejoined.

They apparated to the coordinates they’d been given for the Weasleys’ home, The Burrow.  The sun was shining on the crooked house.

Hermione wrinkled her nose.  “I really want to straighten it.”

Harry swallowed his laugh.  “It’s charming.”

“It’s about to fall down,” Hermione shivered, “and there are no wards here for us at all.”

“We’ll survive,” Harry said, clasping her hand.  “Come on.”

Arthur Weasley opened the door when they were half-way down the path. 

Hermione breathed in sharply as the slight chatter of people travelled out of the open door and Harry hid his grimace at the roiling mass of anger, resentment and irritation within The Burrow’s walls.

Harry nodded at him, grateful that the older wizard seemed to know better than to offer his hand.  “Mister Weasley.”  He motioned at Hermione.  “This is my Sentinel, Hermione Granger.”

“Arthur, please, and do come in,” Arthur said.  He looked old, riven with grief and heartache.   

He ushered them into a large space functioning as a kitchen and dining room.  The table was crammed with Weasleys and, surprisingly two blonde witches.

The introductions went swiftly.  Apparently, all the Weasleys had turned out in solidarity.  Apart from Arthur’s wife, Molly, their eldest son, Bill and his wife, Fleur were present, along with an officious looking redhead Percy who pompously informed them he worked for the Ministry, Fred and George, the twins who owned Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes, a joke shop he knew his Dad had invested in, and the youngest son, Ron and his wife, Sarah.  There was a bassinet beside them with a redhaired baby fast asleep. 

Sarah’s mother, Agatha, was not present, and Harry wondered if she’d returned to help with the funeral arrangements.  The Ministry had released Ginny’s body to the family that morning.

“Firstly,” Harry began sombrely, “I offer our sincere condolences on the loss of Ginny.  I know you are grieving as a family for your daughter, your sister, and best friend.”  He projected calm and compassion which eased some of the unhappy mood.

“We want to assure you that our investigation is aimed at uncovering the truth of what has happened and give Ginny justice by bringing her murderer to account,” Hermione said. 

“You’re a liar, Granger.  You already let her murderer go free!” Ron Weasley snapped viciously.

Harry’s gaze caught the redhead’s furious eyes.  “You should refer to her as Sentinel Granger, please, and Draco Malfoy did not kill your sister.”

“Ron!” Bill cautioned him before he could snap back.  He turned to Harry.  “I’m sorry, but we were surprised to hear that Draco had been released from Ministry custody.  He’s never had any love for this family.”

“Malfoy did have motive and we’ve heard enough to know his involvement with your sister was in part motivated to embarrass your family and Neville,” Harry allowed, “but he was truthful when he denied killing her.”

“He’s currently in the Order’s protective custody in Rome,” Hermione said briskly.  “The fact that Ginny was placed back into the room with him suggests that someone tried to frame him.”

“Your gifts are a whole lot of baloney if you ask me!” Ron sneered.

His brother Percy rolled his eyes.  “There is substantive data about Sentinels and Guides which validates their gifts, Ronald.”

“It makes them premier investigators,” Bill added, “we should be grateful they’ve assumed control of the investigation.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Percy sniffed.  “The Ministry was more than capable of investigating.”

Harry swallowed the retort that sprang to mind at that and turned to the matriarch who had been surprisingly quiet.  “Mrs Weasley, if we could speak with yourself first?”

Molly Weasley looked at him with an apathetic gaze, her eyes flickering to her husband briefly, before she gave a sharp nod.  Her greying red hair was pulled back in a bun.  Stress lines carved harsh wrinkles in her freckled face.  Grief hung over her like a cloud.

“Is there somewhere we can ask questions in private?” asked Harry politely.

“You can use the library,” the Weasley patriarch said. 

They followed Molly into a small room next to the living room.  It was little more than a large closet, crammed with shelves filled with books stacked high.   There was a reading chair under a quirky standing lampshade. 

Harry motioned for Molly to take the seat while he and Hermione stood gingerly next to a bookshelf.

“When did you discover that Ginny was pregnant?” asked Hermione gently.

“Four weeks ago,” Molly answered, clutching a white handkerchief in her hands which twisted on her lap restlessly.  “She came for dinner and afterwards she told me she’d done a test and was pregnant.”

“Who did you tell?” asked Harry.

Molly brushed away tears and sighed.  “Headmaster Dumbledore.” Her sigh shuddered out of her.  “I only told Albus when Ginny told me the rest of it.  How the baby wasn’t Neville’s and he’d threatened to divorce her.  I just…Albus and Neville have always been close.  I thought he’d be able to get him to do the right thing and stand by her.”  She brushed away more tears.  “It wasn’t like he was blameless in her unhappiness.  She would never have…she would never have been manipulated by that awful Malfoy boy into an affair otherwise.  All she ever wanted was Neville and a big family.”

“Do you know who else in the family knew?” asked Harry.  He wasn’t surprised that Molly had taken her daughter’s side in her marriage troubles with Neville.  It wasn’t the right time to challenge her view about it.

“I think Sarah did,” Molly murmured.  “Ginny confides in her about everything, and Sarah just went through a pregnancy herself last year with little Frankie.”

“For the record, Mrs Weasley,” Hermione asked, “where were you on the night Ginny died?”

There was another rush of tears which were hurriedly scrubbed away.

“I was here with Arthur,” Molly replied thickly.  “We were babysitting Frankie so Ron could have a night out with Sarah.  It was the first time they’d be without the baby.  Arthur and I were so excited to have him for the night.”

“Thank you, Molly,” Harry said. 

They led her back to her family.

There were hard glares from Ron as he picked up on the evidence of his mother’s weeping, but he subsided after a sharp look from his father.

“Sarah,” Harry said, “if we could speak with you next?”

Sarah paled a touch but nodded.  She got to her feet.

Ron stood up with her.  “I should be with her.”

Harry shook his head.  “While we requested to do these interviews here out of respect to your family’s grief and loss, this is a formal interview in a criminal investigation.  If anyone wishes to engage legal representation then we will, of course, wait and reschedule to enable a solicitor to attend.”

“Ron,” Arthur said with a hint of exasperation, “I did explain all this earlier.  I thought you understood.”

“I did!” Ron said, flushing bright red.  “I just…Sarah’s been through a lot.  I just think…”

“I’ll be fine,” Sarah cut in.  “The sooner we get this over the better.”  She patted her husband’s arm and headed for the library.

Harry and Hermione followed.

As soon as the door closed on the library, Harry erected a privacy bubble.  He suspected Ron’s ear was going to be pressed up against the door.

“Please take a seat,” Hermione encouraged the younger witch to relax.

Sarah sat stiffly.  “I don’t know how much help I’ll be able to give you.  Ginny and I have,” her face twisted in pain, “had grown apart since school.”

“When did you become aware that Ginny was having an affair with Draco Malfoy?” asked Hermione.

“The day after the Ball when Ginny came round to tell me,” Sarah sighed and shook her head. “I knew she was intending to do something stupid at the Ball because she’d said so before she went.  She was furious that Neville wasn’t backing down about waiting for children.”  She looked up at Hermione.  “I’d just announced I was pregnant you see.”

“Do you think she was jealous?” asked Hermione, raising her eyebrows a touch.

“I know she was,” Sarah said.  She bit her lip.  “I love Ginny.  We were friends from the moment we sat at the Gryffindor table together after our Sorting.  But she’s the treasured youngest child and only daughter of her family and she’s very spoiled and indulged.”

“My sister noted that everyone expected her to end up with Neville,” Harry said.

Sarah nodded.  “It just seemed inevitable, especially once they started dating in school.  Being with Neville was all Ginny really wanted.  She loved being Neville’s wife.”

“Did she?” asked Hermione.  “Or did she love the idea of being Neville’s wife?”

Sarah grimaced.  “She had a lot of dreams which didn’t match the reality of actually being Neville’s wife,” she allowed.

“Did you tell your brother about the affair?” asked Harry. 

Sarah shook her head.  “I was going to but when I saw him next, he already knew.” She bit her lip again.  “I was angry at Ginny for the affair and…I know she and Neville were having problems, I thought he was right about not bringing a child into that.”

Harry figured she had also wanted to keep the spotlight on her own pregnancy and child for a while.

“We weren’t really talking, Ginny and I,” Sarah admitted.  “She was dismissive about being Frankie’s godmother and just…she wasn’t much of a friend this past year, never mind a sister-in-law.  Fleur’s been great.  She really helped me with a lot of worries and in the first few weeks after the birth she came over and helped along with my Mum.  Ginny…she just hasn’t, didn’t.” Her eyes closed briefly again.

“When did you learn about her pregnancy?” asked Hermione.

“She told me about four weeks ago?” Sarah rubbed her chin almost absently.  “She came straight from here to mine and Ron’s flat.  She was excited.  I thought…I thought the way she talked about the baby that it was Neville’s.”

“When did you find out it wasn’t?” asked Harry.

“Ginny came round after she told Neville and…” Sarah breathed in.  “We argued.  I couldn’t believe she just expected Neville to take on Draco Malfoy’s child as his own.  She…she was determined that he would and…we said horrible things to each other.” She brushed away tears.  “That was the last time we really spoke.”

“Neville said you’d tried to convince him to go along with her plan,” Harry noted carefully. 

Sarah closed her eyes briefly.  He could feel her horror that he knew.

 “She…” Sarah began, before a storm of emotion rose up and choked her.

“She blackmailed you into that conversation,” Hermione surmised gently.  “We were told that she knew something about your family that she was going to use to force Neville into her plan.”

Sarah flinched. 

“We can keep whatever you tell us confidential,” Hermione stated firmly, “but the more information we have, the quicker we’ll be able to find her murderer.”

Another storm of emotion, Harry noted, with guilt a heavy portion of it.

Sarah swallowed hard and nodded.  “When we were still at Hogwarts I confided something in Ginny.  We were best friends.  We pinkie swore never to tell anyone the secrets we shared.  I thought…I didn’t think she would ever use it against me or Neville.”

“What did you share?” asked Hermione softly.

Sarah bit her lip again and closed her eyes.  She opened them and took a deep breath.  “Frank Longbottom is my biological father.  He and my mother were having an affair. He was with her the night You-Know-Who attacked; that was why Alice Longbottom was alone.”  Her words were hurried out in a hushed voice.  “Neville doesn’t know.”

Harry exchanged a quick look with Hermione.  He could imagine if the truth got out to the Prophet, what kind of awful media storm would erupt.  It also explained a lot about Frank’s protectiveness.

“Ginny,” Sarah continued, “she threw it in my face during our conversation and told me that unless I convinced Neville to accept her baby, she would tell him and the world about how my father’s infidelity had left his wife and child unprotected.”

“I see,” Hermione said soothingly.  “So, you tried to talk your brother into following her plan to protect your family.”

“Yes,” Sarah agreed.  “Alice Longbottom is deified almost as the ultimate mother who protected her child, and if people found out why she was alone that night…” she shook her head again.  “But Neville made it clear he’d had enough of Ginny.  He told me he was going to divorce her.  So, I wrote and told Ginny, only she wrote back and said I had to convince him.”

“What did you do?” prompted Harry.

Sarah looked up at him and sighed heavily.  “You already know, don’t you?”

Harry held her gaze.  “We know you and Ron were disguised as a couple and attended The Willington Arms on the same night at Ginny met with Malfoy.  The dining room house elf confirmed your real identities when we interviewed the hotel’s house elves.”

Sarah gave a slow nod.  “I told Ron that Ginny was pregnant with Draco’s child and how we couldn’t let her ruin Neville’s life with taking on the burden of raising it.  I told him she was planning to go to the press with a pack of lies which would hurt Neville’s reputation in her desperation.” She swiped at her wet face.  “Ron loves Ginny, but he truly does love Neville too.  I managed to convince Ron that we should ambush her when she went to see Draco and try to get her to see sense.”

Guilt.

Sarah’s emotional landscape was swamped with it.

“What happened, Sarah?” asked Hermione gently.

“We went just before eight and we got shown up to a room,” Sarah said, “I’d put a tracking spell on Ginny by sending her a note, so we knew that she had ended up in the room along from us.”  She paused. “We went down for dinner in the restaurant because Ron wouldn’t pay the room delivery charge.  We had our meal and went back upstairs.”

Harry and Hermione patiently waited as she wiped away more tears.

“I was so tired,” Sarah said in a quiet voice, “and I…I fell asleep waiting for her to leave the room.”

It was the truth.

“What happened next?” prompted Harry when it looked like she wasn’t going to speak again.

“I woke up,” Sarah’s voice was barely audible, “and I was alone.  I went to the ensuite bathroom and when I came back in, Ron was there packing us up.  He said he’d changed his mind, and we weren’t going to confront her.  We argued, but he made us leave.”

“What time was this?” asked Hermione.

“About midnight,” said Sarah miserably.

Harry crouched down in front of her and offered her a handkerchief.  “Tell me what you fear.”

Sarah’s eyes flooded with tears.  “He would never kill her!  He wouldn’t!  He loved her.”

Harry clasped her hand gently as she cried herself out.  Hermione rested her hand on his shoulder, helping to shield against Sarah’s emotional storm.

“When I found out she was dead,” Sarah shook her head, “all he’ll say is that he didn’t kill her; that Draco killed her.”

“We’ll interview him and find out the truth of what happened,” Hermione promised.  “Would you like to return to the family or go somewhere else?”

“I want Neville,” Sarah said, between sobs.

Hermione patted Harry’s shoulder.  “I’ll go and get Neville.  Harry will stay here with you.”  She left swiftly.  He felt Hermione’s locking spell hit the library door.  It probably wouldn’t keep Arthur out, but anyone else would be denied entry.

Harry adjusted his position, moving to sideways hug Sarah.  She turned and sobbed into his shoulder.

It felt like an age before the door reopened. 

Hermione entered with Neville at her side. 

Harry could hear Ron complaining in the background, but he also heard the hard tone of Frank Longbottom answering him in response.

Neville nodded absently at Harry, but he immediately opened his arms, and his sister flew into them.  He hugged Sarah tightly.

Harry felt Neville’s protectiveness, and he also sensed Neville’s Guide gifts stir.  He stayed near just in case Neville unexpectedly awakened.

“Come on,” Neville patted Sarah’s back gently.  “Let’s get you and Frankie back to the Reach.”

Harry followed Neville and Sarah out of the library and back into the Weasley dining room. 

Frank Longbottom had already picked up the bassinet with the baby.  He nodded politely to Harry before turning to Arthur who was comforting his weeping wife. “We’ll be in touch with the details of the funeral.”

“Sarah!” Ron shouted, his face pale with his freckles standing out in stark relief.  His brother Bill had his hand on Ron’s shoulder, restraining him, Harry realised.  “Please!”

Sarah ignored him, turning more into the protection of her brother.

Frank nodded at Arthur again and hurried his family out of The Burrow.

“Ronald Weasley,” Harry stated firmly.  “We need to speak with you.”

Ron glared at them.  “This is all YOUR fault!”

Hermione drifted closer to Harry.  “It is in your own best interests to cooperate, Ron.” She gestured at him.  “The sooner you answer our questions, the sooner your innocence can be proven.”

Ron glowered at her and…

Harry read his intention to bolt and soon as soon as Ron twisted in the first move of apparition, he stunned him, wandlessly and silently.

Ron dropped like a stone to the floor.

Hermione sighed.  “We should get him back to Order headquarters.”  She pointed her wand and cuffed him. 

“Are those really necessary?” asked Bill tersely.

“I’m afraid so,” Harry said.  “Ron is a material witness in his sister’s murder.  He needs to answer our questions.”

Bill subsided.  Hermione dropped a portkey onto Ron’s prone body and it disappeared.

They took their leave of the worried Weasleys and headed for the main Order office in London.

o-O-o

The main office was a tall building on the opposite side of the estate from the residential flats and houses. 

Harry and Hermione nodded at the muggle Sentinel and Guide at reception and made their way down to the holding rooms.

Sirius greeted them outside of the holding room.  “Your Dad’s at the Wizengamot.  Alan on reception called me to deal with our unexpected arrival.” He motioned at the locked door behind him.  “What happened?”

Hermione updated Sirius quickly.

Sirius looked perturbed.  “Do you think he killed her?”

“He was a cruel boy,” Hermione said, her expression troubled, “but a boy who is a bully as a child, may grow-up to be a good man.”

Sirius nodded.  “James and I are probably examples of that.” He sighed. “I propped Ron into a chair.  He hasn’t woken up from Harry’s stunner yet.”

Harry shrugged.  He was magically powerful. 

Hermione rolled her eyes and entered the room.  Harry followed in after her.  They sat down and Hermione pulled out her parchment to make notes.

Harry shot out another wandless spell to wake Ron up.

Ron startled awake.  He flinched bodily as he realised that he was cuffed and in an interrogation room.  He glowered at them as he slumped into his chair.

“Would you like to request legal representation?” asked Harry crisply.

“I don’t need to!” Ron snapped.  “I didn’t kill my sister!”

Truth.

Harry sighed.  “You couldn’t just come with us into your parents’ library and tell us that?”

Ron pressed his lips together mulishly.

“You and your wife went to The Willington Arms to confront your sister about her plan to force Neville into raising Malfoy’s child,” Hermione said loudly.  “Your wife woke up and was alone.  What happened during the time you were outside of the room?”

Ron’s eyes closed and he shook his head.  “You… you won’t understand.”

Harry leaned forward.  “Let me explain what I think happened.”

Ron stared at him.

“I think you were really in two minds about your wife’s insistence on trying to get Ginny to back off Neville,” Harry said.  “You love your sister, and Neville’s been your best mate, but I think you’ve known for a long time that he doesn’t make her happy.”

Ron stayed silent, but his jaw tightened as though he was preventing himself from speaking.

“I think you were happy Sarah fell asleep,” Harry said. “If it were me, I might want to talk to my sister alone.  I might have watched the tracker spell parchment and when it said Ginny had left the room and was walking down the corridor, I might have left the room to do just that – talk to my sister alone.”

Ron swallowed hard and his gaze dropped to the table.  “She was my baby sister.”

“What happened when you stepped outside of the room?” asked Harry.

Ron shook his head and stared up at the ceiling.  “I can’t unsee it.”

“You saw it happen,” Hermione said.

Ron nodded, tears filling his eyes.  “She was already at the lift.  I called out her name and…” he closed his eyes.  “The lift doors opened and she turned around and…there was green spell-fire…she was hit and…I yelled and tried to catch her…” he fell silent.

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” Hermione said, kindly.

Ron shook his head and opened his eyes, tears spilling down his cheeks.  “I see it every time I close my eyes.”

“Would you be willing to share the memory?” asked Hermione.

Ron sighed heavily.  “I don’t know how.”

“I can retrieve it,” Harry said.  He walked around to Ron and pointed his wand at his head.  “Close your eyes and remember that night.  You were in the hotel room…”

The memory streamed out of Ron’s head and wrapped around Harry’s wand.  It cut off abruptly as Harry reached the moment Ginny died.  Harry stored it in a vial Hermione pulled out of her robe.

Harry returned to his seat.  He waited until Ron gained a little of his composure before he began again.

“You were in the corridor with your sister,” Harry reiterated.  “You blamed Malfoy.  You took her and placed her in Malfoy’s room.”

Ron looked down.  “He killed her.”  He shook his head.  “I don’t care what he said.  He was the one who lured her into an affair.  He killed her.”

“You admit it then?” Hermione said.  “You placed your sister into Malfoy’s room to ensure he was blamed.”

Ron shook his head again and looked up at her defiantly.  “I’m not admitting to anything.”

Harry rubbed his head.  Honestly, the stubbornness of the wizard.  “Then you’ll face a charge of obstruction.”

Ron looked at him blankly.

Hermione looked at Ron with some measure of pity.  “Ron, you were traumatised in the moment you saw your sister die.  There is an extenuating circumstance here to defend your act of obstruction on the night of her murder which will play into our recommendation on whether to charge you, but if you obstruct our enquires by refusing to answer, we will charge you under our jurisdiction with obstruction.”

Ron couldn’t hold her gaze, he dropped his eyes again.  He squirmed in his seat and finally nodded.  “I don’t know how long I was in the corridor for, holding her, but I just…I went to get Malfoy to hit him or…I don’t know.  I tried the door and it was unlocked so I went in and…he was in bed and he wouldn’t wake up…I…I just…I don’t know.  It feels like a dream. I went and picked Ginny up and put her in his bed.  I just…” he shook his head. 

Well, Harry thought, they had the full story from Ron finally.

Ron suddenly looked up, glaring at them.  “I don’t care what he says.  Draco Malfoy killed her as good as if he cast the spell himself.  He deserves to rot!”

Hermione pressed her lips together.  She pointed her wand at the cuffs, and they disappeared. 

Ron rubbed his wrists and stared at her.

“We’ll give you a portkey back to The Burrow,” Hermione said briskly.  “Thank you for helping with our enquiries.  Someone will be along with the portkey shortly.”

Harry followed his Sentinel out of the room and into the corridor, closing and locking the door behind him.

Hermione paused a little distance away from the room.  She rubbed her upper arms with her hands and grimaced.  “I really can’t stand him.”

Harry pulled her into a loose embrace.  She held him tightly, grounding her senses on him.  Eventually she pulled away enough to look at him.

“We need to watch that memory,” she said grimly.

Harry nodded.  “And as much as I hate to say it, we need to re-interview Malfoy.”

Hermione wrinkled her nose in distaste.  Harry thought it was adorable.

o-O-o

It was weird to be back to where they started, Harry mused.

Narcissa sat in the same chair she’d occupied when she’d dragged them into the investigation.  His Dads were back standing at the mantel, and Harry and Hermione were occupying the same uncomfortable sofa.  The only difference was the petulant form of Draco Malfoy sat in a chair next to his mother.

“Is this really necessary?” asked Malfoy, sneering.  The Order had provided him with his own clothes and the expensive tailored suit under his day robes gave away Malfoy’s opulent lifestyle.

“We thought you might like an update on the investigation,” Harry said cheerfully.

“Only if it means I don’t have to be in your protective custody anymore,” Malfoy snapped.

“You know Draco is innocent,” Narcissa added frostily, “you should have released him immediately.”

“I’m sure you hoped we would,” Hermione countered evenly. 

Narcissa glared at her.  “I beg your pardon?”

“Tell me, Draco,” Harry cut in, “why did you choose to use the Greengrass disruption spell on the hotel’s wards that night?”

Malfoy went very still in his seat.  His sharp features tightened as he stared back at Harry.  “I didn’t want my wife’s family firm to track what happened that night.”

Harry smiled.  “Why not?  There is no record of you using that spell on the other nights you were with Ginny.”

“She wasn’t pregnant before,” Malfoy said carefully, as though he was testing the excuse out loud.

“Lie,” Hermione said.

Narcissa’s hand jerked towards her wand before she corrected herself.  “This is absurd.”

“Five people went into the hotel that night, and thanks to Draco enacting the disruption ward none of their movements are recorded,” Hermione stated.  “We know Draco’s movements and we know the movements of the other couple.  For the record, it was the male of that couple who placed Ginny’s body into Draco’s room.”

Narcissa sniffed imperiously.  “Then you know Draco did not kill her.”

“Neither did the person who tried to place the blame on Draco,” Hermione said dryly.  “It was very much an impromptu frame-up.”

“I fail to see why I should continue to partake in this farce,” Malfoy got to his feet.

Harry stood up.  “One question, Viscount Malfoy.” He waited until Malfoy turned to him, his cheeks red with fury.  “You did not kill Ginevra Longbottom, but did you conspire to kill her?”

Malfoy blanched to a sickly grey colour, and he tellingly darted a look towards his mother.

Narcissa leapt to her feet.  “This is ridiculous!”

Hermione moved to stand beside Harry facing the Malfoys.  His Dads were quietly moving into support positions.

“At your penultimate meeting, Ginevra informed you of her pregnancy,” Hermione began.  “You immediately knew that if she was allowed to bring the child to term, your arranged marriage with Astoria would end in a divorce and a harsh monetary fine that would all but bankrupt you.  You ran to the one person who you knew would help you avoid that disaster: your mother.”

Narcissa’s wand snapped into her hand.  “I refuse to listen to this idiocy!”

“Expelliarmus!” Harry said firmly. 

Narcissa’s wand was yanked out of her hand and sailed over the room for Harry to catch it from mid-air.  She glanced to the door and found it blocked by Sirius who stared her down with a stern expression.  She stood still, vibrating with tension.

“You invited Ginny to one last assignation,” Hermione said, ignoring Narcissa and talking to her son, “and then, as soon as she left, you alerted your mother that she had left by asking the house elf to inform her, and then you took a sleeping potion to give you an alibi.  Your mother was waiting under an invisibility cloak in the lift.  As soon as she got your message, she sent the lift up to your floor.  It was expected that Ginny would be waiting outside of the lift doors.  She would be killed as soon as the doors opened, and your mother would go back down and leave the hotel.  When Ginny was found, killed from a spell to her front, you would be cleared, being behind her in the room and asleep from your potion.”

“You didn’t count on another person distracting Ginny just as the lift arrived,” Harry said, “she turned back, and she was hit from behind rather than in front.  But your mother couldn’t risk discovery herself from the other guest. She hurried out hoping that the presence of a witness would be enough to exonerate you.  Unfortunately, she didn’t realise the other person was much more likely to implicate you by carrying the body into your room, something he was able to do because you’d disrupted the security ward.”

“You were arrested,” Hermione continued, “and you needed another out because the DMLE wasn’t going to investigate beyond the frame-up.”

“Which is when Cousin Cissy remembered that you as a latent Sentinel could demand the involvement of the Order,” Sirius said sombrely.

“All you had to do,” Hermione said dryly, “was state clearly that you hadn’t killed Ginny yourself and you’d be cleared.  That was true.”

“Unfortunately,” Harry said, “you also forgot to factor in that we would investigate which included talking to the house elf who served the woman glamoured as Anna Miller.  They were easily able to identify you, Narcissa.”

Malfoy whipped around to his mother.  “This was all your idea!”

Narcissa looked at him, fury burning in her gaze.  “You’re just as hopeless and stupid as your father!”

Hermione spelled cuffs on them both.  “Draco Malfoy, Narcissa Malfoy, you’re both under arrest and will be charged under Order justice for the murder of Ginevra Longbottom.”  She tossed portkeys at them both and they disappeared glaring at each other.

For a moment there was silence.

“I can’t believe Cissy did it,” Sirius sighed.

“I think she wasn’t just motivated by the money issue,” Harry said.  “She does love Draco.  She didn’t want to see him in jail.”  He put his arm around his Sentinel.  Hermione leaned into him. 

His Dad clasped his shoulder.  “Good job on the investigation.  Ginny and her unborn child have justice.”  He winced.  “I’m just not looking forward to Moody saying I told you so.”

Harry and Hermione both grimaced. 

“No,” said Harry, “I don’t think any of us are looking forward to that.”

o-O-o

Epilogue

The Ministry Christmas Ball was a grand event.

Harry looked out at the heaving mass of wizards and witches.  He clasped Hermione’s hand tightly and reminded himself that they only had to stay long enough to be sociable.

Hermione squeezed his hand in solidarity.  “Once more into the fray, dear Guide?”

Harry smiled at her and brought her hand up to kiss her knuckles, his lips grazing past the gleaming diamond on her engagement finger.

He’d proposed the first night in their new home, a pretty house on the Gryffindor Estate, far enough away from the main house to give him and Hermione privacy, but close enough to his Dads that they were thrilled.  The flat at Burton Hall had been deemed too small for them for a permanent place and the First Sentinel and Guide house on the Burton estate was already occupied by their young and enthusiastic muggle Seconds.

They walked slowly down the steps and into the milling mass of people.

Almost immediately, they came across friendly faces.

Neville beamed at them.  He looked very dapper in his tuxedo robes.  He nudged his companion who grinned at Harry and Hermione.

“Violet!” Hermione leaned forward to kiss Harry’s sister on her cheek.

Harry did the same and raised his eyebrows at how beautiful his sister looked.  Her mess of Potter hair had been tamed into soft curls which framed her face, and her clever make-up made her Evans-green eyes pop.  Her deep blue dress sparkled with silver sequins and made it appear she was wearing the night sky.

“You look stunning,” Harry said sincerely.  His gaze darted to Neville who regarded Violet with a warm gaze that had Harry’s brotherly instincts stirring.

“Congratulations on your engagement,” Neville said, yanking his gaze back to Harry as though he’d sensed Harry’s protectiveness.

Hermione smiled widely at Neville.  “Thank you.”

“Violet said you hadn’t settled on a date for the wedding yet,” Neville commented.

Violet grinned unrepentantly at them.  “They got embroiled with that mess with Fudge before Mum could drag them into wedding planning.”

Harry’s Mum was ecstatic about the wedding and about their move to England.  Harry knew she and the Dads had had a long conversation after the Malfoy case.  His parents’ divorce had been quietly announced in the December Wizengamot.  It seemed to have given his Mum a new lease of life.  She’d moved out of Godric’s Hollow, leaving the cottage to Violet, and moved into a small cottage in Hogsmeade.  She’d quickly become part of the community there and was cultivating her garden to take part in the next Summer’s Flower Festival.       

“Ah, the ‘Case of the Missing Ministry Funds,’” Neville teased, drawing Harry’s attention back to the present.  “The Wizengamot report certainly made for a great read.”

Hermione sighed, but her eyes were bright with laughter.  “I’m glad you enjoyed it; it was an absolute pain to write.”

Harry snagged a couple of champagnes from a passing waiter elf and handed one of them to Hermione. 

“Talking of cases,” Violet said, ignoring how Neville’s expression went from jolly to chiding, “Neville has something he wants you to take a look at.”

“It’s not really that important,” Neville claimed, nudging Violet’s arm gently.  “I shouldn’t bother your brother and Hermione with it.”

Violet’s face took on a stubborn expression that Harry knew well from his own mirror.  “You’re a latent Guide; they can help you.”

“If we can help, we will,” Hermione said.

Harry nodded his agreement with her.  “Of course we will.”

Violet shot Neville a triumphant look and Neville rolled his eyes at her, although his lips were twitching with amusement.

“It’s really nothing,” Neville began.

“He has a stalker,” Violet said loudly.

Neville’s mouth snapped shut.

Harry raised his eyebrows questioningly.  “A stalker?”

Neville shot Violet another look which she merrily ignored, but he nodded.  “I’ve been getting weird mail from someone since Ginny’s funeral.  Just…odd.” He blushed furiously.  “Harmless, really.”

Violet rolled her eyes.  “They’re obsessed with him, and the notes are all about what they want to do to him sexually.” She poked his side.  “The last note suggested they were planning to kidnap you and keep you somewhere with them.  It wasn’t harmless.”

“That does sound concerning,” Hermione remarked, her brow creasing into a frown.

“It definitely doesn’t sound harmless,” Harry agreed.

Neville sighed.  “If you have time to take a look, I’d appreciate it.”

“I’m surprised your Dad hasn’t already called in the Aurors,” Harry said. 

Neville smiled sheepishly.  “Ah, well, I moved out of the Manor after the funeral, and I may not have told him about the notes.”

“Is he here?” Harry asked, glancing around the ballroom.

“Babysitting Frankie,” Neville said. “Sarah and Ron are on another date at The Three Broomsticks.”

Harry hummed thoughtfully.  They’d determined not to charge Ron with trying to frame Malfoy in the end, given the shock he’d clearly felt at his sister’s murder.  He had received a stern warning.  Harry knew both he and Hermione felt he was punished enough because his actions that night had caused his wife a great deal of doubt and distress.  Sarah still hadn’t fully reconciled with her husband.

“You think they’ll get back together?” Hermione asked the question that lingered on Harry’s mind.

“I hope so,” Neville said sincerely.  “They love each other.”

“Sometimes that just isn’t enough,” Violet murmured softly.

Neville put his arm around her comforting her.  “Vi said your parentals took advantage of your attending to give the ball amiss.”

“All three of them,” Harry complained good-naturedly.  His Dads had been very gleeful that since Harry and Hermione were attending, they didn’t need to come along to the ball.

“Ah, there you are, Guide Potter!” The new Minister bustled over to them.  Polly Parkinson had won the election called after Fudge’s malfeasance had been found. 

Harry gave his sister and Neville an apologetic look.  “We’ll contact you tomorrow about the notes.”

“Good luck with Parkinson!” Neville cheerfully said and guided a grinning Violet away.

Hermione plastered a welcoming smile on her face and turned to greet the Minister. 

The only good thing about their being trapped by Parkinson was she was an excellent deterrent for nosy Headmasters, Harry mused, as he caught sight of Dumbledore glimpsing Parkinson and diverting in another direction.

They were half-way through gently reminding the Minister that they were not eligible to work for her directly as her own personal hit squad when there was a large sudden commotion from the other end of the ballroom.

And Harry felt a Sentinel and Guide awaken with a furious bang in the psionic plane.

Hermione shot him a concerned look and they swiftly muttered an excuse and darted away from the Minister. 

Harry weaved his way through the hovering masses until he reached the small tableau everyone was staring at. 

Violet had a wizard trapped up against the wall, her wand pointed at his throat.  Neville stood behind her, his hand on her shoulder.  A large black bear guarded their backs while a stunning white falcon perched on Neville’s shoulder, the wings mantling protectively over the Guide.

Harry cleared his throat.  “Vi?”

“This idiot attempted to potion Neville with Amorentia!” Vi snarled, a feral glare in her eyes.

“See to your Guide, Vi,” Harry said soothingly.  “We’ll take care of the idiot.”

Violet huffed but pulled back and let Neville tug her to stand a few steps away as Harry and Hermione took custody of the wizard.

He was a thin man with a moustache.  “She said it was just a prank!  That’s all it was! I’m innocent!”

“Lie,” intoned Harry and Hermione together.

Hermione cuffed him and tossed a portkey at the spluttering man.  He disappeared to the Order office.  They turned back to the shiny new Sentinel and Guide pair behind them.

Violet gazed lovingly up at Neville.  “Guide.”

Neville cupped her cheek as though he couldn’t believe she was real.  “Sentinel.”

Harry cleared his throat.  “Sentinel Potter,” he said, amused despite his concern for his sister and godbrother, “perhaps you’d like to leave with your Guide to a safe location.  We’ll be in touch once we’ve interviewed the suspect.”

Violet stuck her tongue out at him, but Neville smiled gratefully at Harry and Hermione.  They apparated out in a show of magical strength that drew a gasp from the crowd and mutters of ‘the Boy Who Lived’ that trickled like a wave across the gathering.

Harry’s brow creased as he caught a hint of terrible fury somewhere in the crowd, but it disappeared before he could pinpoint it.

Hermione slid her hand into his.  Her shining eyes caught his and Harry felt her shielding wrap around him like a loving hug.  “I guess the game is afoot, Guide.”

“Sentinel,” Harry drew her close, his love for his Sentinel evident in his adoring smile, and in a show of his own magical strength, he apparated them out of the Ministry. 

They had a crime to investigate.

fin.