"Master, there is a Mr Rosier to see you," Bobbin, Lord Yaxley's personal elf, announced. "Would Master like me to send him in?"
Yaxley nodded before dismissing the creature with a wave of his hand.
Leaning forward, he waited for the man to appear, and when he did so, his lip curled in distaste.
"It was a little over a week ago that I gave you a rather tidy sum to complete a job for me, and yet, Jameson's business remains open. Would you care to explain yourself, Rosier?"
Rosier looked terrible, his skin pale and eyes bloodshot.
"He was there, Lord Yaxley," he answered hoarsely. "He caught us just as we broke in."
Yaxley stood and slammed his fists on the table.
"He caught you?" he hissed, his anger rising.
Rosier nodded again.
"He asked me to pass on a message to you before he dumped us all in a rainforest in South America."
Yaxley frowned.
"Thirteen of you!" he snapped. "I sent thirteen of you, and you couldn't get the damned job done? Are you truly so incompetent?"
Rosier merely glared in response, and Yaxley returned the expression.
"I greatly respect your uncle, boy, but that does not translate to you. When I pay for something to be done, I expect it to be done."
"Then why don't you find your fucking balls and do it yourself," Rosier retorted. "That was the message I was asked to pass on, well, part of it."
"And what was the rest?" Yaxley asked curiously.
"That you should watch your step," Rosier replied with a grin. "You're prodding someone you do not wish to prod. This Harry Jameson has invited you to speak as gentlemen to resolve the matter, or it can be resolved with continued, escalating violence you cannot fathom."
The words were unsettling, but Yaxley did not allow it to show.
"He threatened me?" he said angrily. "He has the unmitigated gall to threaten me!"
His fury became palpable, and the smirk of Rosier only served to grate on him further.
"GET OUT!" Yaxley roared.
Rosier did so, and one of the most prominent Lords in wizarding Britain began to pace in front, swearing bloody vengeance on the up-jumped restaurant owner who dared speak so boldly.
"I'll remove his bastard tongue!" Yaxley declared.
Jameson was either stupid or deluded.
To Lord Yaxley, it mattered not which was true; neither was an excuse to speak so freely when the consequences would be so dire.
No, Jameson had already crossed a line more than once, and instead of having the decency to accept his comeuppance, he decided to toe a path of foolishness.
For that, he would learn what happened when one did so.
Of that, Lord Yaxley was in no doubt.
(Break)
Having received the personnel files from Amelia Bones a few days after their conversation in his office, Harry had begun to undertake the arduous task of vetting the Department of Magical Transportation staff.
For the most part, it was tedious work, but necessary if they wished to discover just how Fenrir Greyback had made it to the shores of Great Britain undetected and with a large pack of werewolves.
At this point, Harry didn't know the number that had been smuggled into the country, and in truth, it was perhaps the least odd thing he was attempting to process.
Although he'd been here for some weeks now, his life had changed so drastically, even more than he could have comprehended.
Already, he'd opened a business, which was proving to be successful, become acquainted with people he'd only ever heard of, and was now somehow assisting Amelia Bones, of all people, with a murder investigation.
He would be lying to himself if he said he wasn't enjoying it, even if he did wish he could live out the rest of his years peacefully without death and violence following him wherever he went.
Perhaps he needed the chaos in his life in some capacity.
For as long as he could remember, Harry had lived with a dark cloud of sorts hanging over him, and maybe it had been there so long that he just didn't know how to live without it.
It was a sobering thought, though not one he could ignore.
Maybe he was just a glutton for punishment, or he simply thrived whilst he was in danger.
Regardless, it made him question the kind of man he was.
He'd always liked the idea of peace, of being able to live without a threat against him, but it seemed the very same thing that had thrust his and Voldemort's destinies together had left quite the imprint on him.
Harry shook his head of his musings.
They would do him no good, not when he'd had the opportunity to leave it all behind and he'd intervened something that was not his concern.
Bones.
He'd gotten to know Susan well enough during their fifth year at Hogwarts and interacted very briefly with Amelia during his trial beforehand.
Even then, the woman had been rather stiff and professional but not unfriendly towards him when much of the Wizengamot would have seen him expelled at Fudge's behest.
She had stood up for him and had earned his respect.
Seeing her at a similar age to himself was strange and something he'd not given much thought to, but whilst he sat vigil in the Ministry of Magic beneath his cloak at all hours, if nothing else, he had time to ponder these usually wayward musings.
Amelia was unusually uptight for someone so young.
Harry couldn't deny that he had been during his teenage years whilst the prospect of facing Voldemort plagued him, but to see it in another was rather odd.
Why she was such a way, Harry didn't know.
Perhaps it was just her natural disposition, but he didn't think so.
Not that he had an answer for the question as to why she this way. Thinking back on what he knew of the Bones family, his knowledge proved to be limited.
He knew that Amelia raised Susan from when she was a baby, but nothing of the former's own circumstances.
Maybe Amelia was the Hermione Granger of the Auror world? Maybe she had always envisioned being an Auror, that is was just in her nature to want to arrest criminals and balance a world of injustice.
Again, Harry was stumped, and now was no longer the time to ponder the woman.
Another shift change was about to commence, and he had a list of another ten people he would be observing throughout the small hours as they went about their work.
Thus far, none had raised suspicion, but if Bones was right in her belief, then someone within the department had indeed assisted Greyback.
Who that was, Harry didn't know, but his observations would continue until all were above suspicion.
He watched as the evening staff began arriving.
The ten names he'd highlighted were those who were connected to others of interest to him.
Of course, Bones would not have considered them the same way Harry had, giving him an advantage, though there were no guarantees he was right in his assumption.
He knew of those who'd become prolific followers of the Dark Lord and would risk their jobs to help Greyback enter the country, but he remembered what both Sirius and Moody had told him what felt to be so many years ago.
'Neighbours became suspicious of neighbours, and no one knew who they could trust anymore. Someone you thought you knew could be in league with him. Just look at Wormtail. There was a time I would have trusted him with my life, so much so that I trusted him with your parent's. Look how that turned out.'
Harry knew those who had staunchly opposed Voldemort and his ilk, but the same could not be said for those who had allied themselves with him. Those he didn't know well enough to eliminate would remain under suspicion.
Perhaps he was paranoid, but he'd lived through a war and seen those he'd thought he could trust be nothing but puppets for Voldemort.
Harry had no intention of fighting the Dark Lord, and he had no intention of being duped or misled as he had been before.
Releasing a quiet breath, he carefully made his way to the first person of interest.
Although they'd officially been disowned from the Selwyn family for being a half-blood, even a man who thought so much of blood purity was not beyond using any as a tool if they could serve him well enough.
(Break)
"You seem to be troubled, Alastor. What's on your mind?" Albus asked.
The Auror shook his head.
"Not troubled as much as concerned," he murmured. "If I tell you something, Albus, it must remain between us."
"You have my confidence, Alastor," Albus assured him.
Alastor nodded, choosing his words carefully.
"Did you hear of the Imelda Smith murder?"
"I did," the headmaster confirmed. "A terrible business."
"Aye, it is," Alastor agreed. "Well, Bones and I were given the case to work."
"Any leads?"
Alastor's expression became rather grim.
"Aye, according to a source Bones is working with, it was Fenrir Greyback."
"Surely not!" Albus gasped, taken aback by the mention of the infamous werewolf.
"It's true, and there is evidence to back it up," Alastor explained.
"A source Amelia is working with?" Albus asked with a frown.
"A Hit-Wizard."
Albus hummed and tugged at his beard thoughtfully before nodding.
"It would make sense that the Hit-Wizards are hunting him. He is wanted in several countries for his exploits."
"Do you know any of the Hit-Wizards?"
Albus shook his head.
"I know the head of the department only because of his presence in the meetings. They are as secretive as they come and are perhaps the best-trained living witches and wizards. I often learn of their exploits, after the fact, of course. I must say, they are deeply impressive."
"Is it likely there is one here helping Bones?"
"If Greyback is here, then it is indeed a distinct possibility that one or even a team of them have followed. You are worried about Amelia?"
"No, she is not foolish," Alastor returned. "I just wanted to be sure this person is who they say they are. She's seen their papers with the seal of the ICW, I just needed to hear it from you for my peace of mind."
"I would not give it much thought beyond being grateful for the assistance," Albus urged. "Greyback is an exceedingly dangerous man with a large pack at his disposal. If the Hit-Wizards are assisting you, it can only be positive."
Alastor nodded.
"I am grateful," he replied. "Even here, we've heard of Greyback and the things he's done. I just don't want to see Bones get hurt. She's a damned good Auror, Albus, and I expect she will go all the way to the top."
"You really believe so?"
"Aye, I do," Alastor said fondly. "In only a few months, she'll be fully signed off, and she'll be working alone or with another partner, and I'll get lumbered with a new trainee."
"You know they always partner you with one of them because you're the best at what you do."
Alastor chuckled.
"I'm good, Albus, but I'm always learning. You never finish your training in this job, much like your own. Have you managed to find a new Defence Professor yet?"
Albus shook his head tiredly.
"The search continues."
"Well, maybe you should have a word with Harry Jameson."
"Harry Jameson?"
"Aye, he's the owner of the new restaurant in Knockturn Alley and the man who helped Bones the night we arrested the Selwyn group. He can handle himself. I watched him throw Yaxley out on his arse without too much trouble, and Bones is impressed by him, even if she won't say it."
"If he's just opened a restaurant, I don't think he will be seeking employment," Albus pointed out.
"From what I know, he owns it, but it is managed by someone else. He must know his stuff if he took down that many at once, and Bones showed me his record. His Defence, Charms, and Transfiguration scores are off the charts. I'm just saying, if you're low on options, it could prove to be a worthwhile conversation."
Albus hummed thoughtfully.
"Perhaps I will," he mused aloud. "I must admit, I'm rather curious to meet him, at the very least."
(Break)
Although the murder of Imelda Smith was a priority case, others that came in could not be ignored. As such, Amelia found herself pulled in several directions, splitting her time between trying to locate Fenrir Greyback and attending to her other duties as required.
She was exhausted, but with so many open investigations, she was unlikely to get a reprieve in the coming days.
For once, she was grateful that someone else was assisting her outside of the usual help she could rely on Alastor for.
Amelia certainly did not have the time to look into the possibility that someone in the Department of Magical Transportation had assisted Greyback in entering the country.
She didn't know him well, but Amelia got the impression she could rely on Harry Jameson.
After all, the man had been, or still was, a Hit-Wizard.
It granted her the needed time to focus on a particularly violent mugging that had occurred two days prior.
A young woman had been viciously assaulted and remained in St Mungo's. Unfortunately, she remembered little of her attacker, only that he was around four inches taller than her, thickly built, and smelled of Firewhiskey.
It wasn't much to go on, but Amelia was determined, if nothing else, to ensure the victim got the justice she deserved.
Thus far, she had no suspects, and as ever, it would be a frustrating process trying to get any information from anyone who may have something useful.
As ever, getting anyone to speak with the Aurors willingly was no easy feat.
Most merely wished not to involve themselves in such matters, meaning many went unresolved until a breakthrough was made.
Often, that wouldn't happen until someone was arrested for an unrelated crime and suddenly wished to make a deal for a reduced punishment, with the understanding the information they gave remained unknown to the public.
There truly was no honour amongst thieves, something Amelia had learned quickly upon becoming an Auror.
"Anything?" Alastor asked as he joined her.
Where he'd been all morning, Amelia didn't know, but Alastor was rather coy much of the time, so she didn't question his whereabouts.
"Not a thing," she grumbled, hoping Jameson would have some news for her when she met with him shortly. "You?"
Alastor shook his head.
"Someone knows something," he grumbled. "Too many people heard what happened from the screaming, but none saw it? I don't think so. Leave it with me, Bones. I'll get them talking."
Amelia nodded appreciatively.
"Is something bothering you?"
Alastor released a deep breath.
"You'll be signed off soon," he reminded her. "That means we won't be working together so much."
"Oh," Amelia said sadly. "She liked working with Alastor. She couldn't have asked for anyone better to help her these past few years, and she wasn't relishing their partnership coming to an end."
"Cheer up, lass," he chuckled. "There's not much more you're going to learn from me. You're doing a damned good job. The department is in good hands with you around."
"You'll be getting a new recruit then?"
"Aye, I expect so," Alastor sighed. "Don't worry, I'll give them just as hard a time as I gave you."
Amelia vividly remembered when she first joined up and the expression of utter disappointment Moody had shown when they'd been introduced.
Amelia had taken it personally and vowed that she would impress the man.
He didn't offer many compliments, though when he did, they were always given sincerely.
She liked to think she'd surprised Moody over the years and proven she was worthy of wearing the uniform.
"You've done well, Bones," he murmured fondly. "Anyway, we're still working together, for now. Let's make sure we end this on a high by clearing our caseload."
Amelia nodded, his words meaning more to her than if they were to come from any other.
Alastor Moody was something of an enigma in the community, even for a man who came from a long line of Aurors and war veterans who had been equally highly thought of.
In many ways, Alastor was in a league of his own, a brilliantly talented wizard who was loyal to his work, sometimes to a fault.
It was the one they shared in common, and it had held them together since Amelia had been partnered with him the very first day she'd finished her training.
Although they were not saying goodbye, it felt as though it was the end of an era, and one Amelia would always cherish, along with Moody's friendship.
"We should get on with it then," she urged. "There's a lot to do."
"Aye, there always is, lass," he replied with a grin. "That will never change."
(Break)
Harry looked on indifferently as Yaxley ranted and raved at him, making threats in a blustery manner reminiscent of his Uncle Vernon. The difference between the two men, however, was that Yaxley truly intended to follow through with them.
He was indeed a dangerous man and one whom most would be wary of crossing.
Harry almost found him amusing compared to the likes of Voldemort, whom he had not flinched from when they'd met for the final time.
Perhaps he had been lucky, but since then, he'd grown from a boy to a man and had put his earlier experiences in life to use.
He was no longer a terrified child, cowering in his bed whilst he relived the murder of his mother over again. In his own right, he was a veteran who had survived against the odds.
Yaxley would not intimidate him, and as another threat was made against Harry, he'd finally heard enough.
"You are rather boring," he commented. "Let us not forget, it was your idiot nephew that started this. You then tried to attack me and even sent more idiot men to attempt to burn my business down. If you are trying to intimidate me, Yaxley, it isn't going to work, and your threats are as pathetic as your attempts to cause me harm. I've lived my life dealing with bigger and much more powerful than you, and you will find that out if you continue the way you are."
Yaxley blinked as though he was trying to process if the words truly had passed Harry's lips.
"I have endless resources at m-…"
Yaxley unleashed a scream of surprise as he was hurled across the room.
Harry's fraying temper had finally reached its limit, and as he reached for his own wand, Yaxley cried out in pain, having been on the receiving end of Harry driving his heel into his groin.
"Maybe I should kill you and send your remains to your wife, Lillian? Or I could take them to the little home where your mother resides in Venice. I could even come to your house and leave your own still-warm corpse on the bed you share together. The portrait of the lion you sleep below speaks volumes of your ego," Harry murmured quietly. "I have tried to be nice, Yaxley, but you are leaving me little choice in the matter. Now, I would heed my next words very carefully. I know where you live, I know how to get in your house, and there's not a damned thing you can do to stop me. If you do not believe me, check the drawer next to your wife's side of the bed. I left a small gift for you in there when I visited. I will say this only once more: If you bother me again in any capacity, I will ruin your life in more ways than you can imagine. It will be those you care for that suffer, and you, in turn, will suffer until I decide to end it. You can either let this go and choose to live or act the fool, and I will wipe your existence off the face of the earth. What's it to be?"
Yaxley truly looked nervous now as Harry gazed into the man's eyes.
"Who are you?" Yaxley whispered.
"Just a restauranteur," Harry answered, "but so much worse if you provoke me."
Yaxley swallowed as he begrudgingly nodded.
"I think it best for us both if it is left alone," he reluctantly agreed.
"Good," Harry declared, pulling the man to his feet. "I really did not wish for this to become so personal and ugly, but you left me no choice."
Yaxley eyed him speculatively before offering a slight bow.
"Until we meet again, Mr Jameson. Perhaps I will grace your restaurant with my presence."
"And you and your wife will be greeted with the utmost respect and hospitality if you do so," Harry assured him.
With that, Yaxley took his leave of the restaurant, and Harry released a deep breath, relieved that the two had reached an accord, for now.
"Is everything alright, sir?" Thomas asked as he peered around the door.
"Everything is fine," Harry replied with a smile. "Is there something you need?"
"Not me, sir, but someone is here to see you," he informed Harry.
"Who?"
Harry wasn't expecting anyone until Amelia would arrive once the dinner service had concluded.
"It's Professor Dumbledore, sir. He's requested a moment of your time."
Harry frowned.
What would Dumbledore want with him?
He'd purposely avoided being anywhere the headmaster would be, even going as far as to check the bookings for each service to ensure the man would not be at the restaurant.
"Shall I tell him you're busy?"
Harry shook his head.
"It's quite alright, Thomas. You can send him in."
It would do no good to avoid him.
If he did, Dumbledore would only become suspicious and pay more attention to Harry than he was comfortable with.
No, it was best they met on Harry's terms and in a place he could control.
Still, he wondered what Dumbledore could possibly want with him. It was unsettling and not something Harry wished to have hanging over him by avoiding the headmaster.
(Break)
It was certainly a nice establishment, and whilst Albus waited for the manager to return, he took a look around. The upper echelons of society were here, seated at pristinely presented tables and being waited on by well-dressed young men and women.
The fare on offer looked to be of the highest quality at first glance, and Albus could not help but think this was a significant improvement from the pub it once was.
"Professor, Mr Jameson will see you now," the manager declared as he returned. "If you would follow me."
Albus did so and was led through the kitchen and into a rather humble office.
The man seated behind the desk was indeed the very same in the article Alastor had shown him from the Selwyn trial.
Harry Jameson was a young man in his early twenties, if Albus was to guess, but his eyes spoke of years of experience, appearing much older than his youthful face.
"Professor Dumbledore, I'm afraid if you are looking to make a booking for this evening, we are full. I can, however, fit you in tomorrow."
Albus offered the man a smile as he shook his head.
"Although I have heard only the best about your food, it is something else that brings me here this evening. May I?" he requested, gesturing to one of the seats.
Jameson nodded, and Albus did not miss the slight frown that creased his brow.
"You already know who I am, so I can only assume that you know of my position."
"Which one?" Jameson asked. "Chief Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, or one of the dozen others you currently have?"
It was not asked mockingly nor with any hint of envy. It was merely an amused observation, and Albus's lips twitched similarly.
"For the purposes of this discussion, I am just the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."
"The worthiest of the titles," Jameson returned sincerely.
"I fully agree," Albus replied. "Now, your name was given to me by an acquaintance we share, though I believe your association with him is rather loose. Alastor Moody."
"The Auror?"
"The very same," Albus confirmed. "I find myself in need of a Professor to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts for this coming school year. I see no reason to omit that I know what you did for Auror Bones, and Alastor speaks highly of your skill. Mr Jameson, I would like for you to consider coming to Hogwarts for a year to pass on some of the knowledge and experience you possess."
Jameson deflated slightly.
"You need not answer here and now," Albus assured him, sensing a declination, "but I would ask you to consider it and give me an answer in around a week."
"I will consider it," Jameson returned cordially. "I will make no promises."
"I expect none," Albus said with a smile. "Please, feel free to come and visit the castle between now and when you have an answer. It would be my honour to show you around, and then I can answer any questions you may have. I understand this has come as rather a shock."
He turned to take his leave and paused at the door to the office when Jameson spoke once more.
"You don't know me," he pointed out. "Why would you offer me the job?"
Albus turned and offered the man a smile.
"It takes a certain type of man to do what you did for Amelia Bones. You put yourself in mortal danger to help someone in need when you could've done nothing. That tells me all I need to know about you, Mr Jameson. Besides, before I came, I made the relevant checks. I think the students can learn a lot from you and you from being at Hogwarts. I find it a shame that you never graced our halls. I expect you would've been an exceptional student. Until we meet again, Mr Jameson."
The man was curious, and that was good enough for Albus.
If Harry Jameson did consent to join them, even for a year, it would give the headmaster time to find a permanent solution.
For some reason or other, it had been impossible to keep a Professor in post for more than a year, ever since Tom Riddle had returned to stake his own interest in the job.
Albus's expression darkened at the memory.
It had been thirteen years since he'd last laid eyes on his former student, and if he did so ever again, it would be too soon.
(Break)
Harry dragged a hand through his hair and released a deep breath. The last thing he'd wanted was to attract the attention of the likes of Dumbledore, and already, he'd failed in that regard.
Still, he could not deny that being at Hogwarts for a year was appealing. There were many things within the castle he could put to use, and others he could use to mitigate the inevitable devastation Tom Riddle would cause in the coming years.
Even so, he was torn.
He'd set up a business, which was proving to be successful, and he'd managed to maintain his anonymity somewhat.
He truly needed to ponder how he would navigate this particular conundrum.
If he accepted, he would be under Dumbledore's scrutiny, and if he refused, it would unlikely be any different.
Would it be better for Dumbledore to see him as just a normal person rather than the enigmatic restauranteur the man believed him to be?
Harry didn't know, but he preferred to be in control of the situations he found himself in, and when it came to Albus Dumbledore, that was no easy feat.
He could leave.
There were many other wizarding communities within which he could assimilate himself.
Once more, he could start again.
He shook his head tiredly as he looked around his office.
He'd become fond of being a simple restaurant owner, but it seemed that fate once more had other ideas.
"Sir, are you okay?" Thomas questioned worriedly as he peered around the door again.
"I'm fine, Tomas," Harry assured him with a smile. "Is there something you need?"
"We are now ready to close, sir."
Harry nodded his understanding.
"You go ahead," he urged. "I have a few things to do."
"What did Professor Dumbledore want?"
"To offer me a job," Harry snorted. "He wants me to think about being his Defence Against the Dark Arts professor for a year."
Thomas seemed surprised by the revelation.
"Are you going to accept it?"
"I don't think so," Harry murmured. "I have this place to think about."
"I'm more than capable of running it," Thomas pointed out. "Not many people ever get to teach at Hogwarts. I think you'd be good at it. You handled Yaxley well enough, Sir, and those that broke in."
"You're not trying to get rid of me, are you, Thomas?"
"No, of course not, sir," Thomas spluttered, eliciting a chuckle from Harry, who held up a hand to placate his manager.
"I told him I'll think about it."
Thomas nodded.
"Well, whatever you decide will be best for you, sir. Goodnight."
"Goodnight, Thomas," Harry returned, wishing he could see things as simply as the man.
Harry had been jaded by years of manipulation, abuse, and even his own fame to an extent.
He always looked for the ulterior motive of others when there may be no such thing.
It was likely Dumbledore simply wanted him to work as the Defence professor, but after everything he'd endured throughout his life with Dumbledore often at the centre, it was difficult for Harry to forget and take the headmaster on face value.
"Bloody hell," he grumbled.
"A bad time?" a voice interrupted his thoughts.
Harry shook his head at Amelia Bones.
"No, come in," he invited with a smile. "Busy day?"
The redhead sank into the chair and stretched her legs with a groan.
"Aren't all days busy?"
Harry chuckled.
"Coffee?"
Amelia nodded gratefully.
"Please tell me you have some good news."
"I might have, well, good and not so good, really."
"Why is nothing ever easy?" Amelia huffed as Harry made the woman her drink.
She accepted it and sipped the brew, allowing herself to relax in the chair.
"If it were so easy, you wouldn't have a job," Harry pointed out.
Amelia conceded the point and placed her cup on the desk.
"So, the bad news first," she urged.
"Whoever created the portkeys that brought Greyback and his pack here do not work in the Department of Magical Transportation."
"Impossible," Amelia declared. "No one outside of the department has the authority to create them."
"True, but that doesn't mean it can't be done," Harry replied. "If you can get into the department undetected, you can authorise many things by forging some of the documents or changing them. I managed to get into the records room, not for long, but I did locate the paperwork pertaining to twelve portkeys that were used to bring one hundred and twenty people here from Poland. Delving into it a little further, the person who signed the document does not exist."
"So, someone working there used a fake name?"
"It's not impossible, but I do not think so," Harry said dismissively. "The magical traces on the document do not match any of the workers."
"Then who could've done it?"
"I have an idea, but I will need a few days to be certain. Can you give me that?"
"Or you could give me the name, and I can look into it myself."
Harry shrugged indifferently.
"The man you are looking for is Augustus Rookwood. He is twenty-three and a very talented wizard. He will be almost impossible to find, and even when you do, he is as dangerous as they come."
"Rookwood?"
Harry nodded.
"What makes him so dangerous?"
"He is an expert in espionage and has been trained by the very best in Britain," Harry explained. "He is an Unspeakable."
Amelia's eyes widened, and Harry grinned amusedly.
"We cannot go after him without being completely certain," she murmured. "Do you have any evidence?"
"Only what I've told you; that is why I asked for a few more days to get it."
Amelia's nostrils flared.
"Going after him is more than my job is worth if you're wrong."
"It is," Harry agreed. "That is why I would suggest you focus more on finding Greyback rather than Rookwood. He has connections, and even if we could find evidence, he would likely get away with it. It is unlikely he has left a direct trail to himself. He is not a fool."
"So, I should just forget it?"
"I didn't say that," Harry replied. "I'm saying that bringing him in would serve no purpose other than to alert him and those he is working with that you are onto them. I'm suggesting you retain what you know for when it becomes useful to you."
"Who he's working with?"
Harry nodded grimly.
It hadn't taken him long to connect the dots in front of him.
Although not a whisper had been uttered about Tom Riddle or his moniker, Harry was in no doubt that the man was behind this.
It would still be some years before he made himself known, but already, he was placing his pieces across the chessboard that was wizarding Britain, preparing for his grasp for power.
"Can you think of any reason why an Unspeakable would orchestrate the arrival of the most notorious werewolf pack in Britain?"
Amelia frowned and shook her head.
"No," she murmured. "Can you?"
"There isn't one, not unless he is acting on someone else's behalf."
"Who could have that kind of hold over an Unspeakable?"
Harry shrugged.
"Your guess is as good as mine," he sighed. "For now, I think it is best to put Rookwood to the back of your mind."
"You mean so I can use him as bait when necessary."
Harry nodded.
"I know it is not what you want to do, but it will be the right thing in the long run."
For now, Augustus was all but untouchable, but that would not remain so, especially when he inevitably became marked by the arrogant Dark Lord.
Not that Harry would have any involvement in his apprehension.
Despite uncovering what he had thus far, he still had no intention of throwing himself into the mix.
He was in the process of creating a safe haven away from it all, and he would not deviate from his own carefully laid plans.
Reluctantly, Amelia nodded.
"I hate to admit it, but you're right," she huffed. "I'll focus on Greyback for now, but the moment the opportunity comes to take this Rookwood down, I will take it."
"Of course, you will; you're like a dog with a bone."
Amelia quirked an eyebrow at him.
"A name joke. I thought you were better than that."
"It's late!" Harry protested.
Amelia hummed amusedly as she stood.
"Maybe next time you'll do better," she comforted. "Anyway, have you spoken with Jenny?"
Harry frowned.
"Why would I speak with Jenny?"
Amelia rolled her eyes at him.
"She's interested in you. I thought that was obvious."
That was news to Harry, though he never had been good at realising women were interested in him.
After splitting with Ginny, he'd avoided witches, worried they were only interested in him for his fame or to run to the press with the story of a night they'd spent together.
That was not something he'd had to ponder when meeting muggle women.
He'd not considered that was something he no longer needed to worry about with his own kind.
"You should write to her."
Harry shook his head.
"I'm not looking for a relationship."
"Neither is she," Amelia explained as she put her cloak on. "She's just as busy as you are. She's just looking for some company."
Harry frowned at the woman.
She hadn't said as much, but it seemed she disapproved.
Maybe it was just ingrained into her not to have casual relationships. Amelia was a pureblood, after all, and such things were usually frowned upon.
"I'll think about it," Harry conceded, already thinking of a way to avoid it.
Amelia shot him a look of curiosity before shrugging.
"Suit yourself," she replied easily enough. "Goodnight, Mr Jameson."
She almost seemed relieved by his answer, even if she hid it well.
Why that was, Harry didn't know, nor did he give it much thought. He had more than enough to occupy his mind, and the unsolvable mystery of the opposite sex was not one of them.
Already, both Dumbledore and Voldemort had somehow appeared in his periphery, the two men he'd wished to avoid at all costs.
Groaning in irritation, he took the leave of his office and returned home, pondering just how he'd already found himself embroiled in another mess.