Chapter Text
Harry woke up slowly and as he had every day for the last five and a half years, he felt the other side of the bed. And every day, he only found smooth sheets. It wasn't as if he was expecting his wife to magically return from the dead(wouldn't that be nice?), but he still sometimes felt like it was a bad dream. He could still feel her hand in his, even though he had lost that arm to a curse shortly after, he could still hear his own desperate yell as her hand slipped(but it didn't slip, she made him let go) from his and she was pulled into the dark and freezing water.
The kids had been home for Christmas. A small miracle that they got a few days home with her before it happened.
Two days before Christmas, they were sent out to a lake where a few Muggles had vanished. At first, this didn't seem too odd. Accidents happened, perhaps they were weak swimmers and simply drowned and their bodies never surfaced. But the Muggles searched the lake. They dredged it. No bodies were found.
And then the had stories started, and almost all said the same thing- there was a monster in the lake. It moved without being seen and snatched unsuspecting Muggles. It never surfaced or, if it did, it was invisible above the surface.
The lake froze over, which it had never done before and should not have done that winter. That was when the Muggles began screaming of cursed waters. The idea was outlandish enough that many others dismissed it as some new strange folklore, but the Ministry had to get involved. And they discovered there was a monster. It wasn't completely invisible, but it was something that couldn't be explained in any way by the Muggles.
When they arrived that night, there was a hole in the middle of the lake. At first, it seemed unsuspecting. But there was a shimmer, a slight glow, just beneath the surface. Despite initial hesitations, they approached.
That had been a mistake.
The water came to life as soon as their feet touched the ice. The watery tentacles, enchanted like that of a kraken, flailed and thrashed. Their spells cut through the water without making a single mark. They retreated, backing towards the shore, but one managed to wrap around Tonks' ankle. Her wand was thrown from her hand as she was pulled off of her feet and dragged towards the hole in the ice. Harry was quick enough to grab her hand, trying to pull her back. The force of it pulled them both across the ice with little resistance.
Tonks rolled onto her front, trying to grab the ice with her free hand, but couldn't manage it. Harry dug his heels into the ice to try and slow their momentum, his other hand still clutching his wand as he continued to fire curses toward the water.
Tonks' other hand reached up towards their entwined hands and there was a moment where Harry assumed she was trying to get a stronger grip but instead, she cast a Shocking Charm. The shock seared through his hand and up his arm and he cried out in surprise- and his grip loosened momentarily. Her hand slipped from his.
Harry scrambled forward, trying to regain his grip.
Tonks was yanked off of the ice and into the water, the ice freezing over almost instantly. Harry tried to blast the ice to no avail, he dug and scratched at it until his fingers bled and screamed for her until his voice was hoarse.
They never did find her body, even when the lake was searched again in the spring. Seven Muggles went missing along with Tonks over the course of those few weeks- only three were ever found. The monster never returned, they never found out who had been behind it. The only belief was that, perhaps, killing a Ministry employee had scared the Dark Wizard off.
They had buried an empty casket in the spring, if only for them to have a place to visit. After that, Teddy grew distant. Harry couldn't blame him.
He had wished it was temporary, of course, but it wasn't. Things had shifted with Tonks' death. Teddy still called him Dad, of course, but he slowly seemed to grow more distant. Once he moved out, almost right after finishing Hogwarts and inheriting his share of Tonks' death payout, it became simple texts a few times a week. Then Teddy began working, apprenticing under Hagrid to become the next Care of Magical Creatures professor, and the texts became small messages once a week. This last year had even been his first as a professor and Harry only knew about Teddy's progress through letters from Hagrid, who was clearly very proud of his apprentice, and Jamie, who had just completed his second year. But Harry didn't hear much directly from Teddy himself- Harry convinced himself that part of this was because Teddy lived at the school during the year and wouldn't have his phone, but then part of Harry reminded him that Teddy could easily write a letter too. Harry did, somewhat infrequently, and Teddy's responses were usually short and more infrequent.
And he understood, he did. Teddy and Tonks were close in a way that Teddy and Harry were not. There was a bond between mother and child that Harry would never understand. He saw it a bit with Lily and Jamie too, that they had change a little since her death too. Harry did his best, but children needed their mother.
The guilt ate at him. Some nights he stayed awake, playing it over and over again in his mind, wondering if there was a different spell he could have used or if there was anything he could have done differently.
In the days that had followed her disappearance(he had refused to accept her death for a long time), he had even spent hours at a time reading through the reports and statements written out by himself, Smith and Johns. He read them so many times he could still recite them. He replayed the scene in his head, pinpointing the exact things that could have been done differently- they shouldn't have stepped onto the ice, he shouldn't have let her hand go(but she shocked him, he had no choice), he should have tried harder to break through the ice…
Harry sighed, rolling over so that he couldn't see the empty side of the bed. Right after it happened, he had found himself wishing he had not dropped the stone in the forest all those years ago, that perhaps with the stone he could get answers. He could get proper closure… or he could just see her again.
He knew that wasn't healthy.
Eventually, Harry had to get out of bed. He removed his prosthetic arm to shower, the appendage matte black(he had flat out refused silver before the Healer even finished their question), reattaching it once he was done. Each of the hand's fingers functioned just as a real hand would, which Harry appreciated as it meant he hadn't missed a lot of work with how easy it was to adapt.
He got dressed, making his way downstairs to find Lily and Jamie already eating cereal while some mind numbing show played on the television.
"Healthier lunch, right?" Harry asked as he passed. That was the rule he had tried to instill when they were younger, that if they ate sugary garbage for breakfast, they'd need to eat something a lot healthier for lunch. He only got muttered responses back.
"Can I go out with Ro today?" Lily asked, following him into the kitchen.
"I don't want Jamie home alone." Harry said, setting the kettle on the stove.
Lily rolled here eyes. Silver today, just like her mum. "Fine. Can Ro come over?"
"Are you going to get your chores done if she does?"
Lily sighed loudly and Harry raised his eyebrows at her. "Yes, I will get my chores done."
"Alright, but if you don't, no sleepovers for two weeks." Harry said. That was always the worst punishment for Lily, who seemed to think that seeing her girlfriend less than five times a week in the summer was the same as being sentenced to Azkaban. "Hugo can come over too if both boys want."
Lily made a slightly disgusted sound. "But they're so weird when they're together!"
"So are you and Rose." Harry said, earning an offended sound from Lily as she put her bowl in the sink.
"We are not weird!"
"Most teenagers are." Harry said. "I wasn't, but most are."
Lily rolled her eyes again, leaving the kitchen. Harry made himself a quick breakfast of toast and some fruit, drinking his tea slowly and then cleaning up his dishes. He gathered his papers from the night before that had been left abandoned on the table, stowing them away in his work bag. He grabbed his robes, pulling them on over his Muggle clothes- an old habit, but one that made it far easier to venture into Muggle areas when needed.
"Alright, I'm leaving!" Harry called into the living room. "Behave yourselves, do your chores, I should be back by dinner!"
Jamie and Lily yelled their farewells over the sound of the television as Harry put his boots on. "And someone please walk Daisy later!" Harry added, letting the dog out into the back garden.
He grabbed his workbag, stepping through the Floo in a rush of green flames. The atrium was already bustling, witches and wizards in various coloured robes making their way to the lifts and to the fireplaces. Memos flew overhead, there was a young wizard handing Daily Prophets to anyone who passed, small groups gathered at the small coffee shop.
Harry entered a crowded lift, barely saving himself from bumping into a petite witch balancing a pile of parchments nearly as tall as she was, the gates rattling shut seconds later.
When he stepped off of the lift, the corridor leading to the different offices of the Department of Magical Law seemed a lot quieter. Two Magical Patrol Wizards were leaning over a wizard who was clearly very drunk, seated on a bench outside of their department, but the rest of the floor was pretty quiet. Harry knew better than to hope for a quiet day, though.
Harry had just entered his own office and hung his work bag when the door opened again.
"Oh, good, you're here!" Hermione said, rushing forward and plopping into the chair in front of Harry's desk.
"I was unaware we had a meeting this morning, Minister." Harry said.
"We don't, but I have come to ask for updates on the movements of those werewolves you've been tracking." Hermione said. "I know you don't like it, Harry, but it's unavoidable. If they're restless, we need Auror involvement to prevent further issues."
Harry sighed. "I know." He said. "Look, I'll write a report for you later-"
"Write a report?" Hermione asked, laughing derisively. "Harry, you are already several reports behind! I have to come down here to view your files just to find out what's going on in the department!"
"I'm trying, Hermione." Harry said, removing his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose. "It's just…. difficult when the kids are home from school. Balancing them and all of the work in this role…" When he replaced his glasses, he saw that Hermione's face had softened.
"Oh, Harry, I know."
"Lily doesn't want to spend her summer babysitting, and I understand that. It's not like Jamie needs a lot of care, they just need to not burn the house down, and Teddy's too busy to spend every day with them this summer."
"Have you spoken to him, then? How's Teddy doing?"
"Good." Harry said quickly. A little too quickly, considering Hermione's face. "Well, I think, anyway… I saw Vic yesterday, she said they were doing good. Apparently, Teddy's got a few trips this summer to study abroad."
"Have you talked to Teddy, though?"
Harry shrugged. "A few texts, but neither of us carry our phones as often as Muggles would."
"Harry, you need to try."
"I do try, Hermione." Harry said, suddenly feeling defensive. "He knows I love him, that he will always be welcome home, but I also need him to make an effort to be part of the family. We can't keep reaching out to him and getting nothing back."
"He misses his Mum-"
"I miss her too. Lily and Jamie miss her too. He's not the only one." Harry said firmly, not wanting to continue this conversation. "I'll do the werewolf report right now, alright? I'll send it up to your office in a bit."
Hermione nodded, standing. "Alright, thank you." She said, walking towards the door. She paused when she reached the door. "Teddy still loves you, Harry. He's told me. He just… he's just struggling a bit."
"Well, I'm glad he's talking to you, I guess." Harry muttered, though he felt a little jealous. It had been almost five years.
"It'll get better." Hermione said. "I know it will."
Harry was saved from having to decide whether or not to respond, as there was suddenly a loud explosion from somewhere in the Ministry, an odd wave of energy shooting upwards from the floors beneath them. It seemed the entire room shook, the furniture swaying and the oil lamps flickering violently before they were plunged into darkness for a few seconds.
"That was probably the Unspeakables, they're doing a bit of investigatory work today." Hermione said, once the lamps relit themselves. "Perhaps I should go and check on them, though they never tell me anything…"
Hermione finally left, and Harry regrettably opened the file detailing the recent restlessness of the werewolves. There hadn't been any attacks, which was good, but the werewolves seemed to moving in a way that indicated they could be planning something. Usually, most of the groups stayed out of the way. There might be a few thefts here and there, reports of sightings on full moons, but since Greyback's death in the Battle of Hogwarts, attacks had lessened to nearly zero. Of course they still happened, but the few they had seen seemed to be purely accidental. Harry was not sure why that was- surely there could be others like Greyback. Still, the Ministry watched them, just to be safe.
He wondered if they had been buying their time, because now they seemed to be gathering in larger groups than usual. They were getting harder to track, harder to watch, as they moved underground and Harry wondered why.
Hermione had also wondered why, which meant she wanted a detailed report about everything the Aurors had uncovered recently about them. Hermione's love for reading and studying had certainly not dulled over the years. Harry's disdain for paperwork had also not dulled.
Therefore, he was relieved when a knock on his door interrupted him. He waved his wand, the door opening to allow a younger Auror to enter. "Head Auror Potter, Harris and I received a report of Dark Magic, we're off to look into it." Richards said.
"Where?"
"Near Little Hangleton."
Harry felt himself tense slightly. He had not heard, or thought of, Little Hangleton in years. Still, he could envision that graveyard as if he had just been there yesterday. "What kind of Dark Magic?" Harry asked.
"Report don't say, so not any Unforgivables." Richards said. "Probably nothing, lots of reports are nothing these days."
"Right, well… make sure to call for more Aurors if you need them."
"Got it, boss."
Richards left and Harry leaned back in his chair. Little Hangleton… the beginning of everything.
Something didn't sit right with Harry suddenly. Little Hangleton was a Muggle town, what would interest a Dark Wizard there?
As he wondered, a horrible thought crossed his mind, sending an odd feeling of terror down his spine.
Voldemort had been resurrected there once before. Surely… surely it was impossible to do again. Harry's fingers touched his scar absentmindedly. It had not hurt since the end of the war and had even faded slightly. It was still visible, of course, and likely always would be, but he had been able to go long stretches of times without even thinking of it.
Part of him wondered if he ought to go out there himself, see what was going on, but then wondered if it might not be a good idea to expose himself to a place of such trauma. Would he see things that weren't there? Possibly, and it could impact the investigation.
Ultimately, he decided to stay back and wait to see what Harris and Richards uncovered. They would send for reinforcements if they needed it.
He tried to return his attention to the werewolf report, but Hermione was right- he hated it. The stigma against werewolves had dulled very slightly since Kingsley had become Minister but Harry knew there were still a vocal minority who would likely love if it came to light that the werewolves were acting suspicious. And, considering it was only the werewolves they knew about, Harry knew that could spell trouble for all werewolves. If there was any violence, even if it was only one werewolf, all werewolves would face the same judgment from the public and there was no avoiding that. Harry hated that there still such a divide between witches and wizards and other magical creatures after the war.
However, if he ignored it all and something did happen… that would look far worse for the Ministry.
So, he detailed everything they knew. It seemed the werewolves that the Ministry knew of(and they only knew of them because these small groups had been accepting Ministry help with food, money and Wolfsbane- one of Hermione's new little projects) were moving to the north. Smaller groups were merging, the Ministry officials sent to check in were coming back with news that they had moved between each visit… Harry found it odd. He also felt bad that he immediately found it suspicious, as he hoped there could be a perfectly innocent reason for it.
Finally, just as he sent the report off to Hermione's office, he was interrupted again by a knock at his door. Harry waved his wand, opening the door and feeling his heart skip a beat when Harris entered. "What've you got?" Harry asked.
"We picked up a young man outside of Little Hangleton." Harris said.
"Alright, and what was he doing?" Harry asked. "Why is it our department's case?"
"Well, we're not sure it is, he wasn't doing anything but we got a report of Dark Magic so we had to respond, right?"
"Right, but if he wasn't doing anything, why did you bring him in?" Harry asked.
Harris looked a little nervous. "Well, sir, he claims he's Cedric Diggory."