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Author: Cygnus Crux Story: Union Rating: Teens Setting: AU Status: Completed Reviews: 0 Words: 48,625
Chapter 4 "Bloody hell, Ron. I'm not sure this is going to work. Matt hexed a minor." "Who happens to be the Lord Mayor's grandson," Ron said gravely. "Which only makes matters worse!" Harry groaned. "What makes you think your little speech won't blow up in your face?" "I may not know what people are thinking, but I do have a knack for learning how they think." "I hope you're right," Harry muttered, before they pushed open the heavy wooden doors with the City Watch's emblem carved into them. The sounds of an agitated female voice met their ears. It came from an antechamber off the reception hall. At the front desk, Doc's brother Grimlock was writing in a large book, seemingly oblivious to the noise that came from the antechamber. Without even looking up, he pointed his long finger in the antechamber's direction. "…one more thing. On your way back to your post, I'd like you to take the time to memorise the City Watch's mantra. Peterson is always right. I will listen to Peterson's recommendations. Peterson is God. And if this ever happens again, Peterson will personally rip my lungs out! Dismissed!" A young, pale-looking wizard shoved past Ron and Harry as he hurried out of the office. Ron suppressed a frustrated moan. Just their luck, the City Watch's she-devil was on duty. Harry smirked and gestured for Ron to go in first. "After you." Ron took a deep breath and squared his shoulders before he marched into the antechamber. Aside from the volatile brunette that was Deputy Chief Heather Peterson, there was a very young blonde constable in the corner of the room, who was nervously scribbling away in a book like the one at the reception desk. Peterson asked her to take a break, and the young witch excused herself and left the room, but not before goggling at Harry and Ron through her thick glasses for a second or so. "Good afternoon, Rangers. I assume you're here to see Mr Kelly?" "We'll also be leaving with him," Ron said calmly. "He hexed a fourteen-year-old for questionable reasons." "If I had an eleven-year-old daughter and I found an older boy with his hand up her skirt, I would've done much worse than that," Ron said, though he knew that he was exaggerating. However, he had a hunch that Matt would have phrased things like that. "The boy said he was only patting her knee." Mary had used the word leg instead of knee. Ron knew that the boy's hand must have been above the knee. "Mary's tall for her age. There's a lot of space between her knee and her upper thigh." "We'd like to take up the matter with Chief Garibaldi," Harry interrupted. "Matt simply hexed the boy's fingers off. He's pureblood and he's already being educated in the ways of magic. I don't believe the allegation that he was severely traumatised like that by something that can be fixed in minute." "I consulted the precedents. Had any other father hexed a boy caught pawing his daughter, he would've had to pay a fine," Ron continued. "Yet you locked Matt up, and we're getting the feeling that those extreme measures have been resorted to because the boy is the Lord Mayor's grandson." Peterson bit her lip as she thought it over. "It's true that the punishment is usually much milder," she began slowly. "But it is still well within the proper boundaries. The chief can't simply let Mr Kelly go." "So what do we have to do to get him out?" "You'd have to appeal to the Concordian Combine to change the sentence. But I'm not sure if they'll grant it." "We don't need to get Matt off the hook completely. We only need to reduce his punishment to the fine that's normally paid." Peterson nodded. "That sounds reasonable to me. There's only one problem. You'll have to make an appointment to speak at a meeting of the Combine. It'll take a few days before you'll be heard." "I'm pretty sure they'll make an exception for me!" Harry said grimly. Ron struggled to suppress a grin. It looked like Harry was taking his advice about using fame to his advantage. "I'll be right back." With that, Harry rose from the floor and floated up through the roof. Peterson's mouth fell open. Ron grinned. "He can render himself incorporeal. It does take some getting used to. Anyway, I have a hunch as to what he's up to. If you'll escort me to Chief Garibaldi's office—I want to be there when the Lord Mayor calls." Peterson nodded and led the way. Ron had actually been down that route before, when visiting Wolfe before he'd been shipped off to Azkaban. They walked past Grimlock's reception desk and entered the corridor behind it, passing a few open office doors on the way to the stairs. Ron glimpsed the young constable Peterson had dressed down, chatting up the blonde with glasses that reminded Ron of Professor Trelawney's. They took the stairs on the left and walked two flights up and made their way to the ornately carved door that led to the chief's office. Peterson knocked in a very distinctive pattern, and the door swung open on its own. Garibaldi was talking into a mirror screen on his desk. "Thin air, you say? Why is it always thin air? Why not fat air? Chubby air? Mostly-fit-but-could-stand-to-lose-a-few-pounds air?" "Chief Garibaldi, this is serious. It's the statue of the city's founder," an anxious voice replied. "I'll send some people over. They'll be there in half an hour." Garibaldi tapped the mirror and turned to Ron. "I assume you're here for Kelly, Mr Weasley?" "You know my name?" Ron asked. "Anyone who has delved deeper into Harry Potter's background knows your name, Mr Weasley. I wouldn't be fit for this job if I were ignorant of your identity. Furthermore, I used to have a job very similar to yours when I was a Ranger." Now Ron was even more confused. "There aren't any records of you ever having been part of the Order of Illumination." "Not the records you have access to, Mr Weasley. Right now you're thinking that some of the elder Rangers would have said something about me by now, don't you?" Ron nodded, dumbfounded. "The answer to that mystery is simple. They were ordered not to say anything about it. I've heard much about your skills. I must say I'm a bit disappointed that you haven't discovered my secret." "If it isn't in the records, it's still classified," Ron said. "The fact that the elders have been ordered not to talk about it means that such information is strictly off limits." "That never stopped me," Garibaldi said. Then he turned to Peterson. "Heather, wake Russell up from his beauty sleep and go down to the third tier. The statue of the city's illustrious founder had disappeared." He waited for Peterson to leave before turning to Ron again. "You are aware that Kelly hexed a fourteen-year-old boy?" "A boy who was fondling his daughter." "He says he had his hand on her knee." "I know it seems innocent, but it's not," Ron replied. "You could liken it to a foot massage. You can pretend it doesn't mean anything, but deep down you know that it does." Garibaldi's face darkened. "I see you've heard that story. Were you using it to try and push my buttons?" Ron sighed. That was exactly what he'd been trying to do, and there was no point in denying it. But it wasn't too late to turn tack. "Mr Garibaldi, did you ever put your hand on a girl's knee with no intent to go any further? That's the point I'm trying to make." Garibaldi placed his elbows on his desk and pressed his fingers together. He seemed to be contemplating that, and Ron pressed the issue. "Maria Kelly is eleven. Granted, physically she looks much older, but not to her father. You have a daughter, don't you?" "Yes." "And she'll always be your little girl to you, won't she?" Garibaldi smiled. "So you have done a bit of homework. Yes, I'll always see my daughter as my little girl, and I probably would have reacted more severely than Kelly has. I personally believe that a fine should suffice as a sanction. Unfortunately, this isn't entirely in my hands." "Harry's taking care of it on the Combine's end of things." As Ron said that, Garibaldi's screen began to flash. "That could be the Lord Mayor now." Garibaldi touched the mirror screen in front of him. "Jeffrey, I've been expecting your call." "I'm not surprised," the voice on the other end replied. Since the Lord Mayor's name was Jeffrey Sinclair, Ron assumed that it was him. "I'm not going to beat around the bush, Michael. You have a recommendation on Kelly's situation?" "You might not like what I have to say." "Michael, I picked you because you are right for the job. You're not politicking, you're not subtle, and sometimes you're a pain in the arse. And I wouldn't have it any other way. So what's your verdict?" "While Mr Kelly might have overreacted, it isn't the first time this has happened. Eric should have known better than to try and feel up an eleven-year-old." "Eleven?! Nearly twelve, I hope?" "I believe she turned eleven in May," Garibaldi said. "I take it Eric didn't tell you?" "He didn't," Sinclair muttered flatly. "That boy's going to get a talking-to that'll blister his ears." "Well, it's possible that he didn't know," Garibaldi began. "Although, when I was a boy, I always had the common sense to gather information before actually stepping up to a girl. Before eighteen, and on the wrong side of forty, women tend to be unreliable when it comes to revealing their age—unless they age very gracefully, in which case they tend to rub it in the faces of other women." The Lord Mayor laughed. "Which reminds me, next week my mother's celebrating her sixtieth birthday for the fortieth time." "My wife already took care of a gift. As for Kelly, I'd cut him loose after paying the standard fine." "I'll arrange a mirror conference to approve your recommendation and dissolve the proposed sentence. My secretary will call you when it's official, but you can let Mr Kelly out of his cell now." "You don't foresee any problems?" "Not with the Combine, though my daughter-in-law might give me a hard time later." "All right. See you later, Jeffrey." Garibaldi tapped the mirror a few times, and after a few moments a new voice spoke. "Yes, Chief?" "Grimlock, Mr Weasley will be coming over with the paperwork for Mr Kelly's release. Please have someone ready to escort him to Mr Kelly's cell." "That's not standard procedure, sir." "No, but I imagine Mr Kelly might be very upset, and seeing a familiar face might prevent him from harming the guard who opens the door to his cell. Lest we forget, he's trained for that sort of thing." "I see," Grimlock replied. "Very well, I'll be expecting Mr Weasley." Garibaldi drew a form in his desk and partially filled it out before signing it and placing a variety of official stamps on it. He rose and looked it over one last time before handing it to Ron. "That ought to do it. I assume you can find your way back to the reception hall." "Yes, sir." Garibaldi extended his hand. "It's been a pleasure." Ron took his hand and shook it. "Likewise." * After Harry descended through the roof of the City Watch's headquarters, he saw Ron and Lilia talking to Grimlock and dwarf constable at the reception desk. They didn't notice him until he was almost on top of them. "Damn you, Potter," Lilia muttered angrily. "Stop using your ghost routine and walk in through the front door, like everyone else." Harry smiled. "But that wouldn't give you anything to talk about. What are you doing here?" "Gudrun got impatient and sent me to fetch her significant other." "It's barely been twenty minutes." "Pregnancy is warping Gudrun's perception of time. So, can we go get him now?" "Follow the dwarf," Grimlock said, and buried his long nose in his book again. This time they didn't go as deep as they'd gone when visiting Wolfe. Matt was being kept in a less secure part of the castle. "I'm glad you're getting him out of here," the dwarf said. "He's been driving us insane with his singing." "I didn't know Matt could sing," Ron said. "He can't," the dwarf grunted, pushing open the door that led to the cellblock. They immediately heard Matt's bellowing a sorrowful song. "Well I hear that train a comin' It's rollin' around the bend I ain't seen the sunshine Since I don't know when Well I'm stuck in Folsom Prison And time keeps draggin' on That train keeps rollin' On down to San Antone." "Shut your trap!" a fellow inmate a bit further down the hall screamed, but Matt continued to sing. "When I was just a baby My mama told me, 'Son, Always be a good boy Don't ever play with guns.' But I shot a man in Reno Just to watch him die When I hear that lonesome whistle I hang my head and—Matt stopped as Harry and the others stepped into view. "Oh, hey guys. What took you so long?" "Mary forgot to tell anyone that you were in the slammer," Lilia said. "She forgot?" Matt asked, while the dwarf worked on the lock. "How did that happen?" "Nicolai came along right after the constables took you away—" "And she forgot all about me." Matt rolled his eyes. "She's just like her mother. Anyway, it's about time you got here." He stepped aside as the cell door swung open. "Hey, d'you want to meet my bitches?" A pair of wizards who would have been considered tough-looking by people other than Harry, cowered even further into a corner of the cell. Both of them had a black eye, and Harry suspected that Matt had been forced to put them in their place somewhere within the past few hours. Lilia smirked. "Your reign is over, tough guy. Your arse is Gudrun's again." Matt frowned. "It wasn't my fault. If that brat had kept his hands to himself, nothing would've happened." Harry smiled, wondering how Matt would react if he found out about Mary's first kiss. Though Nicolai would never hurt Mary, Harry knew that from the point of view of some fathers, no man would be good enough for their daughter. His smile faded into a frown as he wondered how Mr Weasley would've reacted to his only daughter getting married. "Whatever. The mistress of your house told me to tell you to get your arse home on the double." Matt grinned roguishly. "She just misses me and wants me in her arms as soon as possible. She'd go nuts without me." "Seems to me like you're driving her nuts." "No, that would be the work of the eldest fruit of my loins," Matt said, falling in line behind Lilia and the dwarf as they began walking to the reception hall. "Where'd you learn that Johnny Cash song?" "Gudrun's mum is a fan." They continued on in silence until they reached the reception hall. "Ron," Lilia began. "Sarah relayed a message from Hermione. She told me to ask you if you've actually sampled the wedding cakes." "Why would I have to do that?" Ron frowned. "What use do you have for a cake that's hard as a rock?" Ron rolled his eyes. "Hermione needs to learn to trust me more. That did occur to me. If anyone else had been getting married, she'd have been right. But this is Harry Potter's wedding, and the cream of the wizarding world, as well as the scum who fancy themselves the cream, will attend. If the bakery messes up this cake, their reputation will be ruined. They won't mess it up." "I suppose I didn't look at it that way," Lilia said. "But what if something goes wrong during the baking of the cake, and it isn't done in time?" "I've arranged for another bakery to bake a groom's cake to supplement the bride's cake. If one of the cakes doesn't turn up, the other will still feed all the guests." "So what will happen if we do get both cakes?" Harry asked. It seemed like an awful waste of cake. Ron laughed. "Don't worry. Well put the remaining cake to good use. I'm sure the Rangers who won't be at the reception would love a couple of slices. Mum will want to take a chunk home with her, too." He turned to Lilia again. "Did Hermione want to know anything else?" "No, I think that was it. I'm headed over to the Citadel. I'll let her know everything's taken care of." "I'm headed home to soothe my wife," Matt said, before he hurried after Lilia, leaving Harry and Ron behind. "I'm going to pick up the rings now," Ron told Harry. "Want to come along?" Harry thought it over as he glanced on his watch. He was supposed to be teach a few new recruits the basics of close combat, and the lesson was scheduled to take place in less than an hour. Even if Ron's Portkey took them directly to the shop, it would be close. "I'll have to pass. I need to prepare a lesson." "I thought Ironheart gave you time off before the wedding." "He did, but I'm—" "Filling in for Wolfe," Ron finished. "I forgot." "That's all right. As long as you don't forget to double-check the ring sizes. I want to be able to slip the ring onto Ginny's finger." Ron sniggered. "Yeah, Mum will think it's a bad omen if the ring won't slip onto Ginny's finger." Harry smiled inwardly. So she was who Ginny got that particular superstition from. * When Ron walked into the jeweller's shop in Montreal, he was surprised how spartan. the decor was. The tiled floor was covered by a bunch of rugs. The windows, which were reflective on the outside, let in only a little light. Several simple copper sconces lined the walls, and their candles supplemented the light that shone in from the outside. Someone behind the counter was reading a magical newspaper, seemingly oblivious to Ron's entrance. The paper was printed in English, and the front-page headline caught Ron's attention. Hit Wizards catch up to pyromaniac witch. Ashwinder Annie finally got burned. A particularly ugly and mad-looking one-eyed crone scowled at Ron from the page. "Excuse me," Ron said cautiously. The paper tipped a bit downwards, allowing the reader to look over its edge. "Yes?" The voice's accent sounded a bit odd, though it was heard to tell from that single word. "I'm here for Trevor Keogh." The paper came down, revealing the man's face and neatly curled moustache. He folded the newspaper on the countertop and lifted a hinged portion of the counter out of the way. "Follow me, please." He took Ron through a door and to a room at the back. Royal blue carpeting covered the floor, and the whole room seemed to be decorated to match it. There were several tall showcases around the room, filled from top to bottom with masterwork bracelets, necklaces, rings earrings and an assortment of other jewellery. "Have a seat, please," the man said, gesturing towards a round table surrounded by three armchairs. "Monsieur Keogh will be with you shortly." That said, the man went out through the door they came in. Ron was about to get up from his seat and take a closer look at the jewellery, when a bespectacled, brown-haired man came in through a door. He had a rather distinctive spot in the middle of his forehead, right between his eyebrows. "Good morning. I'm Trevor. Ye must be Ron Weasley. How's the form? Ye take after yer aul fella." Ron rose from his seat and shook his hand. "You knew my dad?" "Met 'im a couple o' times through me aul wan, but I didn't know 'im. I went to school with yer brothers, Bill and Charlie, though. I knew them." "You were in Gryffindor?" "Two years ahead of Bill," Trevor nodded. "'Scuse me for being late. I wanted ter wait for ye meself, but the struggle and strife's up the flue and she's about to calf. We thought it was time, but it was a false alarm. Still had ter pay the bloody midwife's fee." That last sentence clued Ron in to all the gibberish Trevor had been mouthing. His wife was pregnant, and the baby would be due any time now. "You're having a baby? Congratulations." Trevor smiled. "Thanks. Me aul wan's been botherin' me about babies fer years. Never mind that me younger sisters have three each. Hopefully she'll shut 'er gob now. Right then—" He gestured to one of the showcases and motioned for Ron to follow him. He undid the lock and opened the glass door, taking out an opened box with two rings lying on a cushion. The rings' design was based on the Irish claddagh ring. They consisted of a single band of yellow gold with slender outer edges of red gold. The claddagh motif was worked in white and red gold, with white gold for the hands and crown, and red gold for the heart. The knotwork that wound from either side of the claddagh motif to the back of the ring was also wrought in white gold. White—for the purity of love—red and gold—Gryffindor colours, and all of it a subtle touch that Ron felt was entirely appropriate. Now he understood why Seamus had recommended this wizard. "Brilliant job," he said. "Can we measure the ring sizes just to be sure?" "I'm sure I made no mistakes, but if it'll make ye feel better…" Trevor took a special gadget out of a drawer and the table and confirmed the sizes on the spot. "Thanks. Did you receive the down payment?" Trevor nodded. "Goblins added it a couple of days after you placed the order." Ron's eyes fell on a timepiece at the very top of a display case. He walked over to it to take a closer look. It had many little planets orbiting on its face. He knew that Aberforth owned a similar watch. "Do you also do timepieces?" Trevor shook his head. "That would be my father-in-law's work. I did do the jewelled casing, but the insides are his work." "Your father-in-law?" "The gobshite who brought you here. Did he treat you as if you barely existed and was wasting his time?" Ron smiled. "I didn't feel offended." Trevor sighed. "Maybe not you, but we've lost a great deal of business because of his attitude. Anyway, that particular watch is reserved for someone else. I reckon we could make a new one. If we use the same materials, it'll cost about four hundred Galleons. Why?" "I thought it would make a good retirement present for my colleagues. I'll talk to my commanding officers about it." "That would be quare! We're already doing it fer some departments of the United States and Canadian governments. That watch happens to be for the head of the Magical Law Enforcement's department." "If the idea takes root, you'll hear from me," Ron said. "I've got to go now. I've got a bunch of relatives coming over tomorrow, and my mum will give me a hard time if I don't take a duster through first."
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