PhoenixSong.net :: A Harry/Ginny Fanfic and Fanart Archive

Author: GovCampbell

Story: Defining the Relationship

Part: Chapter Twelve

Rating: Teens

Setting: Pre-HBP

Status: Completed

Reviews: 27

Words: 4,372

Updated: October 20, 2005, 9:18pm

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Chapter Twelve

A/N: Disclaimer in Prologue.

Wow. I mean, just wow. I want to thank everyone who nominated me for "Best of the Best" awards. I was shocked, and honoured when I discovered that I was up for awards and I want to thank all of you who have read, enjoyed, and apparently nominated my stories. I'm deeply touched by your recognition.

I want to give a special thanks to Dancinginmagic, for her open ear as I bounced some ideas off her. Also, I want to wish her a happy birthday (10/23), and hope she enjoys her present (a cameo in this chapter).

As, always, thanks and love go out to my fiancée, VinFan. We're about to wind under 2 months to go!

The idea of having a transfer point between Muggle mail and wizard mail, is probably not my own. I remember reading it somewhere else, a very long time ago, but where, I could not begin to recall. I think it's just one of those ideas that got absorbed into the fandom.

Questions and comments, as always, will find me at AdmDavis@aol.com.

-- -- -- --

There was a knock on her door as she was getting ready to put Arthur down for bed. She peered out the peephole and was surprised to see Molly and Ginny standing outside. She opened it.

"Ginny, Molly? What's going on? Is everything all right?"

"Everything's fine, Penny," Ginny said. "We're on a mission."

"A mission?" Penny was confused.

Ginny looked at Penny up and down. "No, no, that will never do." Penny realized that Ginny was dressed for a night out.

"What do you mean?" Penny asked.

"Mum's going to watch Arthur for you. You're coming out with me. You need to get out of the house once in a while," Ginny declared.

"But…" Penny began to protest, holding up her hands.

"Oh, Penny, just go out with Ginny for dinner. She's not asking you to paint the town, or anything like that. Everybody needs a break once in a while, and you've been under a lot of stress," Molly pointed out.

Penny felt her resistance waver. She hadn't been out in a long time. She wouldn't mind going out to dinner with Ginny, but Ginny looked as if she had other ideas. "Well…"

Ginny could sense Penny's hesitation, and decided to soften her stance. Well, of course she wasn't going to jump up and down at the idea. But it's still time to get her out some more. "Come on, Penny. I've got the address for a place where we can have dinner, have a drink, and watch people dance. All very low key. It's a Muggle place, so we won't bump into anyone we know."

Penny tried another tactic. "Are you sure, Molly? Isn't Arthur coming home tonight?"

"Oh, Arthur can fend for himself. He's capable." Molly waved her hands dismissively, and plucked little Arthur out of Penny's arms. "Besides, I don't mind spending the evening with my grandson." The little boy giggled.

Personally, Ginny had her doubts about her father's ability to take care of himself, but she wasn't going to bring that up at this juncture.

Penny gave in. "Oh, I suppose we could go out to dinner. What should I wear?"

"That's more like it," Ginny declared gently. "Let's go see what we can find for you."

-- -- -- --

As Penny watched Ginny shove her way back to their table with drinks, she was beginning to regret her decision. Ginny's low-key dinner turned out to be a loud, crowded Muggle nightclub. Dinner was decent, when it finally arrived. They'd finished, and Ginny had volunteered to go get drinks for them.

"Well," Ginny said, sitting down. "I didn't realize how crowded it was going to be. And it's a good thing Harry's not here."

"Oh?" Penny asked.

"Some git at the bar was trying to put a move on me. He wouldn't have liked that," Ginny said, setting the drinks down on the table.

"No, he might have reacted badly. What did you do?"

"I told him to shove off. He tried again, and I told him that if he didn't leave me alone, I was going to separate him from important portions of his anatomy." Ginny giggled, and grabbed a napkin to wipe her glass where the drink had sloshed over the side.

Penny giggled in spite of herself. "What is this?" she asked, picking up her drink with a degree of trepidation.

"It's a margarita. It's good. Just don't drink it all at once. Sip it gently," Ginny advised, taking the paper umbrella out of her own drink.

Penny nodded. "Thank you for bringing me to dinner, Ginny. I suppose it's nice to get out of the house."

Ginny nodded. "Well, after what happened earlier this week, I wanted to check in on you. Make sure you were doing all right."

Penny sighed, and sipped her drink. She grimaced a little. It burned on the way down, but it wasn't bad. "I don't know how I'm doing, Ginny. I wake up, I get Arthur together, and I go to work. I go home, I eat dinner with Arthur, and we go to bed. I'm…functional."

"But that's not really living," Ginny pointed out.

"I suppose you're right," Penny said. "I just don't know what else to do. I'm not…I don't think…" Penny trailed off. "Look, Ginny, I know why you wanted to take me out tonight, but it's not going to work."

"What do you mean?" Ginny asked, as innocently as she could manage. Well, what did you expect? To strike gold with the first swing of the shovel?

"I'm not ready, Ginny. I don't have the time, or the energy. I'm not ready to start looking again. It's still too soon."

"Penny, it's been three years," Ginny argued, even though she knew it was pointless.

"I know, Ginny. But I loved him, I still do. I don't think I'm ready to let him go." Penny shook her head.

"You can't wait forever," Ginny said. "Penny, you're only 25. Do you really want to be alone for the next century?"

"I suppose not." Penny sighed. "I just don't think I'm ready." She snorted. "Besides, even if was ready to start getting out again, who would be interested in a single mum?"

"You might be surprised," Ginny pointed out. "Men go for all types." She took another sip of her drink, and shrugged. "I'm just saying you shouldn't rule everything out because of that."

Penny sighed. "I suppose." She picked at a chip in the plastic table. "I just don't know. It's like I'm waiting for something, a sign, a signal, or anything, that it's time to get life started again."

"You'll find it," Ginny assured her. "Who knows, really? You could bump into someone at work tomorrow."

"I doubt it," Penny said, snorting. "But I'll take your word for it."

"Now, come on," Ginny said, downing the rest of her drink and grabbing Penny by the arm. "Forget about all that, and come dance. You remember dancing, right?"

-- -- -- --

The weather was significantly better the next day, if somewhat cooler. Collins got out of the cab in front of the small cafe. The neighbourhood was old, but not run down the way Callander Square was. This was just a sense of shabby nobility. Collins recognized the hulk of an abandoned department store down the street. That's been there for a while, he thought. I wonder when they'll build something new.

He went into the cafe and looked around. He wasn't sure what he was looking for. He didn't really think that the people he was meeting with would dress as garishly as he'd come to know. He had some sense that the ones who dressed oddly were the ones who didn't bother to pay attention to what was going on around them. Hopefully, people in law enforcement wouldn't be that oblivious.

"Inspector Collins?" A voice asked from behind him. Collins turned and found himself facing a dark haired man with brilliant green eyes. He was dressed quite normally, in a collared shirt and trousers. The man pointed to a table toward the back. "Over here."

He followed the man to the secluded booth and sat down, setting his brief case on the table. The black-haired man slid onto the bench opposite him, where a tall man with vibrant red hair was already sitting. He was dressed similarly, but his clothing looked a bit better put together. Collins took note that the red-haired man had a plain gold band on the ring finger of his left hand, while the dark-haired man did not. Well, that explains the difference in the clothing. Red's got someone to do his ironing.

"Inspector Collins, thank you for coming," the redhead said, nodding. "I'm Ron Weasley. I'm an Auror with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement." Weasley pointed at the black haired man. "This prat used to be my partner, Harry Potter. He happened to be around when the message came in that you wanted a meet, and he invited himself along because he's a pain the arse."

"Thanks, pal. I knew I could count on you." Potter gave Weasley a shove.

The pair seemed natural and open. Collins took an immediate liking to both. "Chris Collins, Scotland Yard. It's good to meet you."

"What have you found?"

"Well, I don't know how much my Aunt Anastasia communicated to you," Chris began.

"Not much," Weasley admitted, "just that you wanted a meet."

"How did that happen, anyway? You growing up with your witch aunt, I mean?" Potter asked.

Collins shrugged. Potter probably already knew the whole story, and was checking how honest he was going to be with them. Lord knew he'd done this routine a dozen times before from their side. "My mother was a Squib who married a Muggle. When dad walked out, she moved in with her sister, who was a witch. I lived there for about five years or so total. Wasn't all at once, but in bits and chunks here and there. I kept in touch with my Aunt, particularly after Mum passed on."

"Were you ever tested for magic?" Weasley asked. "It's not unknown for a Squib to have magical offspring."

"I guess I must have been at some point. I was never asked to go to your school, anyway."

The two wizards shrugged. "Don't mind Harry," Weasley continued, "He's has an insatiable curiosity. And he needs to remember he doesn't work for MLE anymore."

"What do you do?" Collins asked, his own curiously taking over.

"I'm a Professor at Hogwarts now – that's our school – I teach Defence Against the Dark Arts," Potter replied.

"That's like, what, self defence?" Collins asked.

Their waitress, a young girl with light brown hair, arrived just then. "Hello, my name is Sarah, and I'll be your server today. What would you gentlemen like to order?"

"Fish and chips," Potter said immediately. "And bring me a Coca-Cola."

"I suppose you're going to pay for that," Weasley asked, glaring at Potter.

"Oh, I'll pay for whatever. I won't get you in trouble with the auditors."

"In that case, if you're paying, I'll have a ham and cheese, with mustard, tomato, and lettuce. You can bring me a water."

"And you, sir?" the waitress asked Collins.

"Just lemonade, thanks. I already ate."

"All right then, I'll be right back." The waitress disappeared.

"Something like that," Potter said, picking up the thread of conversation again. "It's a bit more complicated, but you've got the general idea."

"Anyway," Weasley said, "What do you have for us?"

Collins opened his brief case and pulled out the file. "Unidentified middle aged male, no identification, dressed oddly. Found in Callander Square Thursday night. Broken neck."

"Murder?" Weasley sat up on his bench. Potter's eyes widened a little.

"Unfortunately, yes." Collins slid the pictures over. "The clothing tipped me off, and there's one other note that made me suspicious. The victim's hair has been cut."

"Cut? What do you mean cut?" Potter asked, leaning over Weasley's shoulder to look at the crime scene photos.

"Hacked off, post-mortem. All the little shavings were around the victim's head on the ground."

The waitress appeared with their food, and the three men absently accepted it. The waitress smiled and disappeared again.

"His hair had been cut, after he was killed?" Weasley asked in clarification.

"Yes. It's one of the things I wanted to talk to you about."

Collins watched as Potter and Weasley exchanged wary glances. It was clear they were both thinking about the same thing, whatever it was. Collins had never set out to be a police inspector, but he'd discovered he was very good at reading people. "What are you thinking?"

"I think we've seen something like this before," Weasley said, not elaborating further.

"The man wasn't carrying any identification?" Potter asked.

"None that we found," Collins clarified. "And we never found a wand."

"No wand…" Weasley rubbed his chin with one hand.

"That doesn't necessarily mean it wasn't there somewhere," Potter said, without much hope. Weasley gave him a look. "I realize we're grasping at straws, but what's the alternative?"

"You've got someone running around masquerading as a dead man," Collins said. Both wizards looked up at him sharply. "My Aunt suggested that the hair could be used to make a potion to assume someone's physical form."

Potter nodded. "Yes. That's true. It's been done before."

"For what? Bank robbery?"

"Worse," Potter said darkly. "Much worse."

Something told Collins not to ask for elaboration.

"Is there any chance we could see the crime scene, or the body?"

Collins bit his lip. "The crime scene, yes, the body, probably not. Not without generating a lot of untoward attention, and I know you lot go out of your way to avoid that. The crime scene is at this address," Collins said, pulling out a pen, and writing it on his napkin. "Let me think about the other issue. Maybe I could come up with something. In the mean time, I have some photos you can take," he said, sliding them across. They were hi-resolution blow-ups

Weasley took the photos and glanced at them, and then Potter gently seized them, his green eyes boring in on the photo.

"We'll take these with us back to our office," Weasley was saying, before noticing Potter's intent stare. "What?"

"I've seen him before," Harry said. "I'm trying to remember where. I have no idea who he is, but I've seen him before."

Both Collins and Weasley were surprised at this revelation. "Really?"

Potter nodded. "He looks very familiar, but I'm not placing him." He shrugged. "It will come to me, or someone at the office will recognize him." Potter put the photo down, took up his chips, and began absently munching.

"Well, it's something," Weasley said, taking a bite of his sandwich. "Would you be interested in coming by the crime scene with us? I'll be interested in your observations."

"Likewise, I'd be very much interested to observe your techniques," Collins said. "After lunch then?"

The two wizards, their mouths full, nodded vigorously.

-- -- -- --

Ginny had a mild headache when she woke up. She'd probably had one more margarita than she had really needed, but she'd finally got Penny having a good time. They'd danced for several hours. Ginny had attracted quite a bit of attention on the dance floor, but no one had really pressed his case after her first "get lost". After the first drink, Penny had flirted back with the one or two guys that had come on to her, but her heart truly wasn't in it, and they could tell.

Penny had taken Ginny home around midnight, although Ginny felt it wasn't necessary. She was capable of getting herself home, she hadn't been all that tipsy, but Penny had insisted.

Ginny got up and got herself a glass of water. She looked out the window of her flat, and down the road a ways, she could still see a handful of reporters and photographers hanging about just outside her privacy line. The protesters – Harry's fan club – had given up and gone home.

It's Friday, she thought. I should have taken Penny out tonight, instead. We could have stayed out later. Then she realized it probably wasn't true. Penny wouldn't have wanted to leave Arthur much longer than she did last night anyway. So what do I have on my agenda for today?

She needed to do some shopping. She'd never gotten there earlier in the week, and she was running low on food. Maybe she would indulge herself and go browsing at Madam Malkin's. She could use some new dress robes, maybe some new casual robes as well. She wondered what Harry was doing today.

-- -- -- --

The faint chalk outline of the body was still on ground in the alley when the three men arrived in Callander Square. "This was where he was found?" Weasley asked.

Collins nodded. "Yes. He was discovered by a local vagrant."

"Odd place for a murder," Potter commented, looking up and down the alley. "You said his neck was broken?"

"Yes," Collins said, reviewing the Medical Examiner's report.

"Doesn't seem like there would be a good place to do that, even in the dark. Not a lot of cover to sneak up on someone." Weasley pointed out, running a hand over the smooth, even walls of the alley.

Collins realized he was right. Despite the fact the alley was dark there was little cover within it. Anyone coming down the alley would be able to see anyone already there. "Well, there didn't seem to be any sign the body was moved," Collins said. "But I suppose if we're dealing with a wizard, there wouldn't be any of the normal drag marks."

"Right," Potter said. "Mobilicorpus would move the body without leaving any marks."

Weasley drew his wand and cast a spell. "No spell residue in the alley – at least none detectable at this point. It's been more than twenty-four hours though."

"Hmm," Potter mused, walking up and down the alley. He stopped at the head of the alley. "Ron," he called.

Collins and Weasley joined him at the head of the alley. "What is it?" Collins asked.

"Something you might not have noticed." Potter pointed across the street. Collins furrowed his brow in confusion. Weasley nodded.

"Grab my shoulder, Inspector," Weasley instructed.

Confused, Collins did as instructed, and suddenly, magically, a building appeared across the street. It was nearly as old and run down as the rest of the neighbourhood, but the sign out front declared it to be the Callander Inn. "I'll be damned."

"Intriguing," Potter said. "Got that photo, Ron?"

"Yeah." Weasley drew it out. "Let's go. We'll let you do the questioning, Inspector."

"Me?" Collins was somewhat taken aback.

"It's your case. Just hang onto my shoulder for the moment. Once we're in, you'll be all right."

The three men must have looked a bit strange crossing the street, but they entered the lobby of the building without incident, and Collins let go. The building was in keeping with the rest of the neighbourhood; a bit shabby and worn, and past the point to of trying to hide it.

A gnarled looking old man was sitting at the desk. Weasley handed Collins the photo and gestured to the man. Collins walked over to the desk.

"Excuse me, sir," he said. "If I could have a minute of your time."

"What is it?" the man grumbled, annoyed, although Collins had no idea what he could possibly be interrupting.

"I'd like to ask you a few questions. Have you seen this man?" Collins held out the photo.

The old man gave it a cursory glance. "Never seen him."

"Are you sure?" Collins persisted. "He was last seen in this neighbourhood."

"Positive, now, bugger off."

"I'd hate to think you were interfering in a police investigation," Collins said. "The man's been missing for some time."

"Police investigation? Who are you?" the man demanded.

"His name is Inspector Collins," Potter's voice drawled from behind him. "He's here with our permission."

The man looked up in surprise, blinked hard at Potter and Weasley behind him, and went pale. "Well, sir, erm…let me look again." The man looked at the photograph again and furrowed his brow in concentration. "No, sir, I'm afraid not. We don't have many guests here nowadays, so I'm sure I'd remember him if he was here. He's not a guest of mine."

"Can we get a list of your guests?" Collins asked.

"It's not very long," the man said, and reached over for a ledger book. Collins took out his notepad.

He was right; there were only about a half dozen of names in the book, none of them recognizable to the three law enforcement men.

"I expected something more from him," Potter admitted, as they left.

"Yeah, especially after you brushed the hair off your scar and he recognized you," Weasley laughed.

"What?" Collins was a bit confused.

"Oh, Harry here doesn't like to admit it, but he's a bit famous. He's not above using it to scare the odd uncooperative witness if he needs to, though."

Collins was still a bit confused. "I'm sorry, I'm not sure I follow."

"Don't worry about it," Harry said. "Ron talks too much. Come on, I want to check out the street."

The three men went out onto the street and Collins mainly observed as Potter scurried around examining the entire neighbourhood from different angles. Weasley stayed with Collins, copying down the list of names the innkeeper had given him.

"I don't think we're going to find much else, especially given it's been so long. I'm going to see if any of these names has a file at our office, and if they turn over anything, I'll let you know," Weasley told him.

"I may do the same at the Yard," Collins said. "How do I get in touch with you?"

"Here," Weasley scribbled on a piece of paper. "Send post to this mailbox. It's a transfer point. Mail is picked up there by an agent of the wizard post office, and distributed to the recipient by owl."

"All right, then," Collins said.

"It was a pleasure, Inspector. I do hope we'll cross paths again sometime soon," Weasley said, shaking his hand.

"Indeed, Mr. Weasley."

"Call me Ron."

"Chris."

Ron turned to his partner. "Oy! Harry, let's go. I've got a meeting." Harry trotted over, his brows furrowed. "Shouldn't you go see what my sister is up to, or something?" Ron asked. "You're supposed to be retired."

"Ginny went out last night. I didn't want to wake her if she stayed out late," Potter said defensively. "It was good to meet you, Inspector."

"It's Chris," he told him. The exchange concerning Ron's sister peaked his interest, but he refrained from commenting on it.

"Harry," he stated, as he shook Chris's hand. "Hope we'll see you again, under better circumstances."

"My thoughts precisely. Have a good day," Chris told them. They nodded, and walked into the alley between the buildings. Chris heard two soft 'pops' and peered into the alley. The two wizards were gone. Shaking his head, Chris walked back to the main street, and hailed a cab.

-- -- -- --

"Chris?"

"Hey, Todd, come on in," Chris beckoned to his friend from the Forensics Investigation unit.

"I have some stuff for you on that John Doe you're working over in Callander Square."

"Oh?" Chris put down the folder he had opened. He'd fed the names he'd gotten from the innkeeper into the Scotland Yard database as soon as he'd gotten back. He was waiting for the results.

"There were a couple things. One, we found some prints on the body, around the neck, consistent with the wound. We're trying to punch them through the computer now. When the results come in, we'll forward them to you. We're also trying to do a DNA analysis on some of the hair, but I'm fairly certain it's all going to come back as the victims."

Chris nodded. Todd seemed to hesitate. "What is it?" Chris asked.

"Well, I'm not sure. The Medical Examiner swears to me that he believes this, but he didn't put it on his report, because it was impossible."

"What?" Chris asked.

"Well, the ME swore to me that he thinks that the victim's neck was broken after he was already dead."

"Why is that impossible?" Chris asked.

"Because then there's no other possible cause of death! He checked everything. Tox screen, cardiac problems, brain haemorrhage. Everything! As the ME said, from his face, it was almost as if…" Todd trailed off.

"As if what?"

"As if he was scared to death."

Chris forced a laugh. But his thoughts had wandered to his new friends. And the spate, several years ago, when he'd just joined the Yard, of odd coincidences: the whispered rumours of people just, dying; mysterious bodies turning up in odd locations. And of course, his Aunt Anastasia, taking a long vacation to America. "Well, we both know that doesn't happen."

"No," Todd chuckled nervously. "But still, this case gives me the creeps."

"Well, I appreciate the work you've done. If you turn up anything else, let me know. Especially let me know if those fingerprints come back."

"Will do," Todd promised. "See you later!" Todd got up and walked off.

Chris leaned back in his chair. He got up and made his way across the room, shutting the door. He sat back down at his desk and pulled out the slip of parchment that Ron had given him. He drew out a sheet of blank paper and began to write. He took another look the photo of the grey-haired man with light brown eyes wide open in terror. How did you die? Chris wondered. What did you see?

-- -- -- --

"And your name again, sir?" the Auror at the desk asked politely.

"Albert Winston Yardley…" the grey-haired man with light brown eyes said, "…I'm the Malfoy family solicitor."

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