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Redeemed Secrets	By : Prophecies Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 788 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Rainy Altercations
- 2-Oversight
- 1
- 2
Chapter 2: Oversight

His office was small.
It gave him more privacy than a cubicle, so he didn�t complain.
Every squad leader had one.
Most had decorated the space with pictures of home, friends and family. Some
had posters of their favourite Quidditch team, although there hadn�t been a
match in over five years.
He didn�t blame them. Everyone was trying to remain a semblance of normalcy.
No one wanted to admit that the world was falling apart.
His office was small and decorated with nothing but the grey of paint,
photo�s of every finished job, every piece of evidence that had led to a closed
case he could find, and pictures of every victim that made it out alive.
He guessed he too, was trying to remain a semblance of normalcy. A semblance
of hope.
He stared at the cup on his desk.
Just a cup, he told himself.
A small golden cup with two finely made heart-shaped handles.
A small golden cup with a big hole centred where the badger used to be.
Hermione had destroyed it. He had not known how. He still didn't know what
she had done exactly; only that it had looked complicated and that she had
collapsed as soon as it was over.
His eyes drifted to the note lying next to it, then back up to the cup and
then they drifted shut.
Not for long.
They shot open instantly when a loud bang told him someone had not bothered
to knock.
�We are partners,� started Williamson�s angry voice, �do you have any inkling
what that means Potter?�
He started forward furiously. A lock of brown hair had escaped the long
ponytail on his back and dangled before his eyes.
He brushed it behind his ear irritably before continuing, �It means that
I go wherever you go! You had no right!�
�It was for-�
Williamson�s raised hand forestalled him. �I don�t want to hear it!� he
hissed. �I don�t want to hear anything about my safety, pending danger or
anything about Death Eaters and You-Know-Who.�
Harry clamped his mouth shut.
�I�m an Auror. I have been an Auror before you. When will you get this
through your thick scull! If I wanted a risk-free career I would have joined
Rubella�s Knitting Circle!�
�Maybe I shouldn�t have, but-�
�No you shouldn�t have,� Williamson snapped, banging his fist on the desk and
making the cup rattle. �You stunned me,� he said incredulously, a hint of
bitterness lacing his tone, �and left me there bound to a chair. Do you have any
idea how embarrassing it was when they found me like that? I had to tell
them some ridiculous lie about me trying to stun a possible culprit but tripping
over a-�
�You lied?� he interrupted disbelievingly.
�Yes,� answered Williamson sourly, glaring at him.
�You told them you tripped?� Harry tried to keep his face smooth.
�I had to think of something fast! I didn�t see any other-� he noticed
Harry�s face and his expression darkened. �Don�t you dare laugh!� he
snapped indignantly.
Harry honestly tried not to, but it proved to be difficult.
�This is all your fault,� continued Williamson savagely. �The whole
department knows, everyone thinks I�m a fool.�
His shoulders sagged and his face looked resigned as Harry�s laughter washed
over him.
�You should hear them talk, they will never leave me alone after this,� he
sighed miserably.
�I�m sorry.� He couldn�t say that he was. It had been necessary, Williamson
would have died.
He had almost died.
He couldn�t afford to die. Not just yet. He had one more�only one left to
destroy.
Williamson grunted. �I�m sure you are,� he said, his expression doubtful.
�The important part,� Harry interceded quickly, �is that Greyback is
dead.�

Without their leader, the werewolves would rebel amongst themselves. They
would be too caught up with their own politics to form a direct threat for some
time. At least that was what he expected.
No, that was what he hoped.
Williamson frowned but nodded. �You�re right, but I still wish you hadn�t
done that,� he said grumpily. �You�re my partner Harry, I�m supposed to be there
for you whether you like it or not.�
�I know...� And he did know.
But he liked Perry Williamson. He couldn�t have let him come. Not where he
had gone. The heart of the Wolves Den had not been a pleasant sight. He had
barely made it out.
Getting in and killing Fenrir Greyback had been the easy part.
He winced, remembering the large gash that had been healed. The scar; a thin
white line from below his collarbone to his abdomen. Another addition to his
collection.
Silence had fallen and he realised his eyes had drifted back to the cup and
to the note next to it.
�You shouldn�t have left St. Mungos,� Williamson broke in, �you look like
shit.�
�Thanks,� he answered dryly.
He didn�t doubt Williamson�s word, he felt like shit. But today marked
a week since his meeting with Malfoy. Today would be the day when he would get
Narcissa Malfoy and bring her out, bring her to London. He had no time for St.
Mungos.
He glanced at the clock on the wall, gathered his cloak, the note and the cup
and stood up in one fluent motion.
�I have to go.�
�You can�t. We have a meeting remember?�
He did now.
A meeting Robards would not like him to miss.
A meeting he was going to miss anyway.
He started for the small fireplace next to the enchanted window through which
a blizzard storm could be seen raging.
�This is important.�
He reached for the small jar resting atop the hearth and grabbed a pinch of
Floo-Powder into his right hand.
�What could possibly be more important than a meeting with the head of Aurors
and the Minister for Magic himself?� Williamson asked incredulously, but did not
try to stop him.
Harry glanced at his partner steadily without giving a response.

Williamson sighed and nodded.
He knew Harry had his secrets.
Secrets he would not share. Not even with his partner.
Not with anyone.
Williamson did not understand, but he accepted it. Grudgingly, but he did.

He had to.
He shrugged on his cloak before throwing the Floo-Powder into the crackling
fire and stared at the brilliant green that soon consumed the wavering
flames.
�What should I tell them?� asked Williamson as Harry stepped into the
grate.
�You'll think of something,� he answered absently, his mind already concerned
with what was to come.
A neutral district...a place from which Williamson could tell nothing.
Emerald flames leapt at his feet as he stated his destination. Swirled around
him in a rush of untamed waves that wanted to drown him in the deepest of
oceans.
------------------------------------------------
He pulled the hood of his cloak up quickly as he stepped out of the
fireplace.
He didn't want to show his face.
His old scar that blazed a bloody crimson, looked freshly made and would send
the proudest of men falling to their knees.
It still amazed him how people could believe so blindly.
Ten years and they still believed he was their saviour. The hero that would
smite down lightning the shape of his scar from the sky and slay the evil from
the world forever.
Or maybe he was just their semblance of normalcy. Their semblance of
hope.
The Leaky Cauldron was derelict.
It was also fit to bursting. People swarmed every niche, every chasm, every
hollow space that could be filled.
He had never liked crowds.
They were uncomfortable; they made him feel self-conscious.
But the crowds had changed.
The people had changed.
They didn't look at him with silent wonder or awe any longer. They didn't
whisper his name in mild curiosity.
Instead, what he read in their eyes, what suffocated him every time he looked
into those faces, as if a noose were tied around his neck� were the pleading
looks, the helplessness.
The ignorance.
Only what really hung him, what really made the final kill each and every
time, was the look of certainty, that look of absolute conviction that lit their
faces when they gazed at him.
The look that said they still held faith.
It still amazed him, but mostly it nauseated him.
What if he couldn't do it? What if he failed?
He couldn't breathe, crowds were still uncomfortable.
They made him feel oppressed more than ever before.
He fled.

He shouldered men, pushed women and children out of his way. He couldn't
stand to look at them any longer.
He didn't want to look at those people when he knew they would lay their
souls bare for him. When he knew he had nothing to give them in return.
Nothing but a decade of darkness, a decade of despair.
He filled his lungs with the stabbing cold air that made his cloak waver like
a flag in the wind, the minute he stepped outside into Muggle London.
There was no discernible difference here.
Everything looked neglected, ruined or abandoned.
But the streets were beleaguered with people.
It wasn't a fair fight for them. The Muggles.
They fought a war against something they couldn�t see.
Something they refused to see.
A man stepped up to him then. A haggard man. Maybe a beggar, but who could
tell these days?

He was old. Grey hair a matted mess on his head. Eyes; cold and haunted in a
wrinkled face that held skin the colour of rotting parchment.
�Praise Jesus Christ, our saviour!� the man wailed pathetically, grabbing the
front of Harry�s robes and pulling him close. �God bless our souls, but who will
save us now...who will save us this time? Do you believe lad�do you
believe?�
Harry stumbled backwards in shock. This Muggle... could not know who he was,
could he?
He shivered involuntarily.
They had tried to warn the Muggles. Tried to make them an ally and prepare
them for the inevitable war.
But the Prime Minister had been blind. Blind to anything he did not want to
see. He had not listened and he had not accepted their help.
How do you save someone who doesn�t want saving?
Then their minister had been murdered. The only one who knew the truth about
their existence. The only one who could have made a difference.
Death Eaters had taken his life, his... and many others.
Afterwards, staring into the face of Voldemort himself the Muggles had not
seen.
Not believed.
Instead had screamed and cried that god had hurled death upon the world to
purge out the sinners.
The Day of Judgement, they called it. A day that never seemed to end.
It wasn�t a fair fight for them.
He panicked and wanted to shove the man away from him, but the old man had
already moved along without expecting an answer. Already approaching another
with the same query.
Already grabbing someone else�s coat.
�Praise Jesus Christ, our saviour!� he heard the man wail pathetically as he
held his wand in his hand stiffly and Apparated away.
No need for secrecy.
Not when the Muggles were as good as blind.
-----------------------------------------
�You shouldn't go out there again so soon,� said a voice from behind him as
he arrived.
A tired sigh left him as he silently peered out the window before him. He
pressed his arm and forehead against the cool of the glass.
A troop of R.B.P Wizards marched by; faces grim, wands at the ready.
�Do you have it?� he inquired, rather than commenting. They had already been
over this.
�Yes.�
�Good.�
�You never said...for who?�
�You know I can�t.�
�Why?� was demanded angrily.
He remained silent.
The R.B.P. Wizards continued on in a formation column, three-a-breast,
nothing seemed to escape them as their gazes swept from side to side.
�Christ, Harry, you know I trust you...but this, this is serious. If anyone
were to find out-�
�They won�t,� he interrupted sharply.
�How do you know?� was challenged back heatedly.
�I just do...all right?� he snapped.
He had no time for St. Mungos, and he had no time for this.
He could see her reflection in the glass now. She stood rigidly behind him to
his right; her lips a thin white line, her hair a bleak blue that was edging on
grey. Grey like the paint in his office.
�Tonks...please,� he sighed, �...you know I wouldn't have asked if it wasn't
important.�
This favour, he knew it had been a lot to ask, but he saw no other way around
it.
London was on lock-down.
He could leave of course, but no one entered the city without ministry
approval.
Every wizard left their own distinct magical residue. One of Hermione's many
discoveries. It is bound to the wizard and not one residue is alike to
another.
For the Londoners, the refugees who had been lucky enough to get admitted,
and for everyone in London, it had been mandatory to register their
magical residue, after it became clear that the city was overflowing with people
trying to elude the darkness that encompassed most of the country.

A barrier had been drawn all around the outlines of Greater London.
The Residue Border.
It informs Ministry Officials exactly when someone crosses over and
where.
The border should have been enough to keep people from getting in. But
because it was so large, because it took so much magic to sustain, breaches
could be found or made.
That�s where the Residue Border Patrol stepped in.
The R.B.P Wizards were now rounding a corner, in only a few seconds they were
out of Harry's sight. He turned around to face Nymphadora Tonks.
She looked hard and brittle. And tired. Exhausted even.
The new division, part of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, has been
active for nearly six years now. With Tonks her promotion, she had been made
Head of Residue Border Patrol Office.
�I realise Harry, but-�
He cut her off. �You�re going to have to trust me.�
She stared into his eyes keenly, as if probing for something, some kind of
affirmation.
Eventually she nodded, but she still didn�t look wholly convinced.
�I hope you know what you are doing,� was all she said.
He said nothing.
He hoped he knew as well.
Tonks sighed quietly and moved to a filing cabinet against the wall of her
office. It was bigger than his of course, and looked far more comfortable in
tints of green and yellow, with a large desk as the centrepiece of the room. The
desk was beset with objects; numerous reports, a coffee mug, overfull files,
parchment and an assortment of quills.
A music box he knew Remus had given her...
She had insisted on locating the Residue Border Patrol Office outside the
Ministry of Magic. It was situated along the border now, she could see part of
it from her office window. She had argued that the arrangement would be more
practical this way.
She had been right of course, but without his vote and support, it wouldn�t
have happened.
After a moment, Tonks produced a large yellow envelope from the cabinet,
hesitated, then handed it to him.
He opened it.
There it was, exactly what he�d asked for; one of those new Magical
Verification Cards the ministry had insisted everyone carry.
Each card was covered with nothing but a mark in the form of the ministry
emblem, that mark also contained a trace of your individual and unique, magical
residue. This made it easier for the R.B.P Wizards to identify citizens on the
spot, when they were out in the field.
He studied the card and emblem.
�The residue?� he questioned, without looking up.
�I was successful in extracting some from the enchanted object you sent me,�
Tonks allowed reluctantly. �The card is fully functional, legally registered and
hooked onto The Database of Official Certification of Magical Residuals, where
the residue itself is also registered. But I still don�t think-�

He exhaled a deep breath in relief and tuned her out.
He knew what she was going to say anyway.
That leaving London was dangerous, even if for a little while. Especially
this soon after the Wolves Den job. That she was worried about him, and that he
was too important to take these risks. That he shouldn�t bring anyone into
London by circumventing the ministry, and that this person�whoever it was, was
obviously a no-good and not worth his trouble. That it wasn�t fair of him to
collect his favour this way. That she would lose her job if anyone were to find
out about this illegal immigration.
That people were killing each other out there, just to get their hands on a
Magical Verification Card just like this one.
That this was wrong.
It was wrong. But it was also a necessity.
��Harry, are you listening to me?� Tonks demanded, annoyed.
�I have to go,� he said for the second time that day.
And for the second time, no one tried to stop him.
---------------------------------------------
The alley looked far less daunting in daylight.
It also looked a lot more bedraggled.
But it was safe. As safe as could be.
The alley, only a few miles outside Greater London, in a town situated in the
Northwest corner of Kent, was secluded.
Kent was one of the few places where people who had filed requests to enter
the city, waited to be admitted.

Dartford lay in a valley. It was mostly abandoned, except for a few
wanderers and strays.
He didn't have to wait this time.
Two figures, huddled in a shaded corner, both wearing long-dark cloaks with
hoods pulled over their faces, looked up simultaneously as the noise of his
Apperition drifted away with the wind.
Two sets of eyes coloured blue and grey, frosty around the edges and centers
as cold as winter's heart, gazed at him levelly. Ivory faces wiped of any
expression, wands drawn and pointing.
He snorted and rolled his eyes.
Malfoy's mouth tightened, but he lowered his wand, then motioned for his
mother to do the same.
�I see you have received my note.�
�Apparently.�
Malfoy's mouth tightened further.
�You haven't changed your mind then,� was asked warily.
�No,� he replied curtly.
�The enchanted parchment I sent, was it ...useful?�
Instead of answering, Harry handed Malfoy the envelope from his inside
pocket, then glanced at Narcissa, who had not said a word nor moved a
muscle.
She was willowy, and very pale. He could see blond locks streaked with white,
where hair wasn't covered by her hood. She was looking at him closely.
Scrutinising him openly.
A sharp intake of breath made him look back at Malfoy.
�How...?� was asked speechlessly.
�I collected a favour.�
Malfoy nodded numbly.
Harry narrowed his eyes as something clicked in his head.
�You didn't think I'd keep my word.� It wasn't a question.
Malfoy shrugged, then answered squarely, �I had my doubts.�
He handed the Magical Verification Card to his mother. It was a plain white
with the emblem of the Ministry painted in a dull gold.
Narcissa Malfoy's eyes widened fractionally as she finally spotted the card
her son pressed into her palm.
�Try it.� Harry told her.
She studied him again for a few seconds, her head coming up sharply, took her
wand; a lean wood that seemed bleached, and pressed the tip on the golden
emblem.
The white instantly turned a crystal clear and the emblem seemed to become
alive; gold of a sunshine honey radiated and twinkled around the edges which
folded themselves into the shape of a fountain that could be found in the atrium
of the ministry.
The Fountain of Magical Brethren. A symbol of wholeness.
A symbol of equality
A pleasant female voice surrounded them from seemingly nowhere, it reminded
Harry of the voice that could be heard at the visitors entrance of the ministry.
It started to recite in a monotone:
�Magical Verification Card holder recognises; Leslly Delaseya Lovaro,
Age: Fifty-one,
Wand: Hawthorn, 10 � inches, unicorn tail hair.
Database of Official Certification of Magical Residuals; Approved,
London citizenship; Approved.�
He had not realised Malfoy had been holding a breath until he released it,
his tense posture faded into nonchalance.
Narcissa, on the contrary looked disgusted as she spat, �Leslly Delaseya
Lovaro?�
Harry's face hardened, typical of a Malfoy to be concerned with a name.
�Take it, or leave it. Either way, I don't care.�
�She'll take it,� Malfoy snapped immediately, ignoring the scowl on his
mothers face.
�I'm not leaving you,� said Narcissa fiercely.
�We have already discussed this mother,� Malfoy answered through his
teeth.
�He will know. He will punish you!�
�I will handle it.�
�How Draco? What if he kills you? What will be left of me then?� she
demanded, her voice brimming with a flood of sudden emotions.
Harry froze, his eyes widened behind his glasses. He had not considered that
possibility.
He couldn't afford Malfoy dying. Not just yet. Not when he had one more�only
one left to destroy.
�Mother, don't�just don't,� said Malfoy softly. He turned towards him.
�Potter... it's time.�
Harry swallowed but nodded. He had to take the risk. And if Malfoy died, he
would find another way.
He would.
He would have to.
�Come with me Draco,� Narcissa Malfoy pleaded.
When Malfoy said nothing she started for him instead. �Harry Potter,
please...save my son, my only child. Tell him..tell him he can come with
us!� she cried.
He just stood there petrified at the scene playing out before him.
When he said nothing, she threw herself into her sons arms, blue eyes
gleaming with unshed tears that finally spilled when Malfoy kissed the top of
her head.
He had never seen Malfoy's face so soft, his touch so gentle as he encircled
her with his arms. He whispered something into her ear to which Narcissa
responded with a wretched sob and a tightening of her arms.
He looked away.
He felt like an intruder, watching something so intimate, something so
personal.
He gave them a moment of privacy.
A moment of goodbye's.
He didn't know how long he had stared at the wall. But when he had returned
his gaze, when he had looked back... Malfoy had gone.
And he had been left staring into icy-blue eyes full of accusations.
Eyes that implicated his role in the condemnation of her son.
---------------------------------
Thanks for your review Angie! I'm glad you enjoyed it. I hope you've
enjoyed Chapter 2 as well.

To be honest I haven't written any chapters out. I mostly write as I go.
I'm not really good with planning stories ahead. They always change. I
just post the chapters as I write them. But I will continue this story though.
It is not going to be too long anyway.
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Redeemed Secrets