Renaissance

A/N: No real warnings, same notes for any errors, and all appreciation and beta credit to Mamacita-san and refuz2luz. Uh, and if you will spare some good, health and strength inducing vibes for someone close to one of my betas who’s in need of your best wishes for a speedy and lasting recovery, I’d appreciate it.
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11.

Harry had been wrong about the Howlers. The red hoard swarmed him as soon as he reached his office that next morning, and not one but two dozen of them had come from Hermione, the self-same witch who now, flanked by his other best friend, glowered at Harry across his desk. Really, at this point Harry just wanted to hang his head and go right back home. And the day had started so well!

He’d come awake warm and comfortable in the guest bedroom at the cottage. Draco had in fact pushed and prodded him up and out of the office the night before, wrapped hir arms around him tightly and Flooed them home, and then put him to bed. Sie’d carefully undressed him, smoothing and stroking over his taut muscles as sie peeled each layer of clothing away. It was a testament to Harry’s fatigue—or more likely to Draco’s skill—that he was more relaxed than aroused by Draco’s touch. And this morning sweet, strong coffee and sweeter kisses had greeted him upon waking. He’d sat up and Draco had held him. Harry was still amazed.

It was different than the hugs he’d received from friends and lovers meant to express their caring or concern or relief. This was...an embrace. Draco had merely drawn Harry against hir breasts and held him there as though he was special and needed protection from the world, or maybe just a safe place to be weary for a little while until he’d rallied his strength and was ready to face the day. Some indeterminate time later when Harry gently pulled away, Draco merely leaned down and brushed hir lips over his mouth. “I’ve some things I need to catch up on, so I’ll be here all of today. Call me if you need me, all right?”

Harry smiled. “Yeah,” he’d answered softly, considering how novel the offer was and how welcome coming from Draco. When he was leaving, Draco again slid hir willowy arms around Harry’s waist and leaned against his chest. “Stay safe today, yeah?” the Auror urged, and Draco had laughed.

“Like anyone’s mad enough to try and hurt me here. I live with Helene Raedler, remember?” Who, by coincidence, had come out of the kitchen at that moment cast-iron frying pan in hand, and despite the after-effects of horror awaiting him Harry had stepped through the Floo laughing.

Of course all the humour and serenity had been sucked right out of him now. He sighed. He loved them, really he did, but it was frightening how like dementors Ron and Hermione could be....

“Well, Harry James Potter, what do you have to say for yourself?” Hermione slapped the Daily Prophet down on his desk. “Just look at this mess!”

He stared down at the headline, Potter Proclaims Pride! and shrugged. “They could’ve done worse.”

“Harry, this is no laughing matter. You have to take this seriously. You should call the Prophet immediately to schedule an interview to make a retraction. The Renaissance Foundation people are going to be all over this! I knew Malfoy was up to something, and now because of those stupid contracts we can’t even discuss what we’ve seen at their headquarters, or how detrimental hir agenda is for the Wizarding world. This is just terrible!” Hermione wrung her hands and started to pace, which Harry knew from long experience was not a good thing.

“We need to contact St. Mungo’s immediately. And we should have our potions people do an analysis as well. That way there’s doubly verified proof. Whatever it was is certainly illegal and that’s a violation of hir probation, so sie should be out of our hair by late this afternoon and we can refocus on the killings. I’ve some ideas about tracking the parchment purchase since we’ve discovered it’s somewhat distinctive. So Ron, you’ll go with Harry to St. Mungo’s now. You should probably take both Tonks and Pendleton. Hetty can bring back the blood sample for analysis and Tonks can assist in guard duty. All right, Harry?”

Harry blinked.

As sometimes happened, Harry didn’t exactly follow all of Hermione’s logic, so she had to repeat herself; but once she had, the look on Harry’s face was enough to bring the perpetual motion machine to a grinding halt.

“Tell me you didn’t just waste all that time that each of us could’ve been using to work on solving Leslie Redbank’s murder to spin some shite theory about Draco dosing me with some kind of mind-control potion. TELL ME THAT MY BEST FRIENDS, HIGHLY-DECORATED AURORS WHO DARE CALL THEMSELVES INVESTIGATORS, DIDN’T JUST SPEND HALF AN HOUR INSINUATING THAT I AM TOO STUPID TO MAKE UP MY OWN MIND ABOUT ANYTHING POLITCAL, TOO NAIVE TO FIGURE OUT WHETHER I’M BEING USED, AND TOO WORTHLESS TO WARRANT DRACO MALFOY’S TIME AND ATTENTION OTHERWISE!”

“Bloody hell, mate! What’s the ferret done to you? Where’s your objectivity gone? You can’t just dismiss whatever we say because you’ve got some sick jones. You think we haven’t noticed, Harry? You’re the laughingstock of the department, man. We’ve tried to protect you, but two months ago you never would’ve blown up at us like that. You need to—”

“Two months ago I wasn’t in love with this arsehole’s prime target. Now the two of you get out of my office. Task force meeting in five minutes. I want Leslie Redbank added to the board and any known details about hir murder yesterday. Everyone should be prepared to discuss any valid theory of the crime, or information that will help us locate the suspect.”

“But Harry, don’t you think—I mean, maybe what you’re feeling is—you do tend to act on misplaced guilt, and I think you have to consider your connection to Sirius and perhaps a sense of obligation to right the wrong committed against Malfoy....” Hermione looked as if she was about to start pacing again, but before she could start with another of her wild theories Harry spoke again, in a low voice this time and with chilling, absolute finality.

“As you value our friendship, Hermione Granger-Weasley, don’t even think about finishing that thought. Now, get the hell out of my office. You have your orders.”

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The atmosphere was tension-filled and uncomfortable for most of the meeting. The schism between “The Golden Trio” was palpable, and with Ron’s temper and Harry’s mood to contend with, the team's other members were dancing amid a minefield of precarious interactions.

The task force reviewed the latest case. Leslie Redbank, forty-two, had been found murdered and dumped just off Diagon Alley. It was the boldest attack so far, occurring mid-day off a very busy thoroughfare, and obviously the killer had taken some of those factors into account as Leslie was spared the torture the other victims had endured. Sie was the only victim to die before being disembowelled and hir body showed no evidence of the Cruciatus. Leslie was also the only victim to have no connection whatsoever to Renaissance Foundation, and very few people knew she was triarii. She had lived all her life as a mundane witch.

Ron insisted they return to all the theories suggested so far, including Harry’s first suspicion that perhaps the murders were part of a manoeuvre to discredit the Ministry in light of the spring elections. Now that John Davis’ candidacy had been officially announced, Ron suggested the theory merited a second look.

On an ordinary day his suggestion would have been considered and kept for further inquiry or dismissed; but today was not an ordinary day, and all the task force had heard the outburst from Harry’s office. And worse, Harry knew this was Ron’s way of testing his objectivity. Really it was all he could do to keep himself from getting up and decking his best friend. Matters were not helped by Pendleton’s comment that such a plot, while highly unlikely, was possible and rather darkly ingenious. So for half an hour they bandied the case notes back and forth, fitted what they merely supposed to the available facts, and worked through the likelihood that an agent of Renaissance Foundation or the Renaissance Party was responsible for the killings. Harry kept his temper admirably, reminding himself that this was necessary to finally lift suspicion from Draco and that his teammates hadn’t had the same exposure or understanding of the triarii power broker so couldn’t understand how far removed these kinds of machinations were from the way sie operated. In the end, though, it was a throwaway comment from Ron that finally set him off.

Harry had been reassessing the poison-pen parchment analysis since they were planning to review the information now that they’d finished (wasting time) with “new theories,” so he hadn’t been paying much attention to the little side conversations. All he caught really was Ron’s muttered comment to Seamus about “freaks who can’t decide where they want to stick their pricks,” and that was it. Harry didn’t care who the comment was referencing, though he had a good guess. He’d had enough of Ron’s crap, and if the prat wouldn’t keep his damn mouth shut Harry would do it for him. A second later he’d powered up from his seat and hauled Ron halfway across the conference table.

“Potter, that’s enough!”

His fist was a hair’s breadth from Ron’s face when Kingsley’s bark registered. Harry and everyone else in the room froze as the Head Auror and his guest made toward the conference table. The stranger, a tall, powerfully-built man carried himself with such authority that Harry was immediately reminded of depictions of Caesar. His salt-and-pepper hair was even cut and styled to match the image, and while the multiple piercings in his ears were unusual the understated jewellery merely added to the aura of distinction and refinement. Harry was so drawn by him that it took him a moment to join the quick shuffle that saw the rest of the task force to their feet, red-faced and awkward but standing at attention.

“Sir,” Harry began to address Kingsley, though not quite sure where he was going with this, “I apologise, we—”

“So much for unity and acceptance, eh, Auror Potter?” Kingsley’s guest asked, looking askance at Ron. “But then I suppose it’s better my husband learn now than later the kinds of men who would serve his Ministry...that is, if a freak like him should be elected Minister.”

Which answered just how long they’d been there listening and caused Seamus to blush furiously as Ron paled. Luckily Hetty, every bit as bright as Hermione but not nearly as showy, stepped into the tense silence.

“Mer. Blackforge, Auror Hetty Pendleton.” Hetty stretched out her hand. “You have our deepest condolences for the loss of your child.”

“Auror Pendleton, my thanks. And my apologies—it seems I have disrupted the...work of your task force. I’m sure you weren’t expecting civilian company, and I may have thrown your group off their stride.” The tall mage smiled thinly, though no one thought it anything more than a diplomatic veneer. “I’ve been touring departments this morning in my duties as my husband’s campaign manager, and Kingsley here didn’t have the heart to tell his old training partner no when I requested to see the task force in action. I was certain to be impressed, particularly given Auror Potter’s rousing comments to the press.” Sie cut hir startling blue gaze across the room to pin Ron and Seamus especially, showing sie had not been impressed by the task force’s display, but her eyes softened when they met Harry’s and sie offered hir first genuine smile.

Still Harry was unnerved, but he tried anyway, stepping forward around the table and extending his hand to the triarii. “Mer...Blackforge,” he scrambled for the name Hetty had used. “Thank you for your interest, and please know that we are committed to stopping your child’s murderer and bringing them to justice.”

The mage nodded, hir face unreadable, and shook Harry’s hand firmly. “Whether or not your husband comes to office, Mer. Blackforge,” Hetty added, “be assured that the Auror corps maintains our diligence and dedication.” She bowed slightly. “I hope you will enjoy the remainder of your tour.”

With another faint smile the mage again inclined hir head. “Well, Kingsley.” Sie turned and stood shoulder to shoulder with the imposing black wizard. “Let’s head over to the Hit Wizards; I suppose I should visit there before I leave.”

“That’s fine, Aubrey; Potter, my office, forty minutes.” Kingsley didn’t bother awaiting a reply. He and Aubrey Blackforge strode through the door, their matched pace speaking to the familiarity of each with the other’s movements.

The young Aurors’ collective sigh of relief almost drowned out the last of Mer. Blackforge’s voice as hir smooth tenor drifted down the hall, but not quite: “Tell me, Kingsley, what standards are they using at the Auror Academy for the personality suitability assessments these days?”

Harry grimaced.

With the door now firmly shut, Hetty fell back into her chair with a thump. “Minister’s son or not, Weasley, you just fucked yourself royally. You and Finnegan both.”

Seamus swallowed heavily. “Well, yeah, maybe if Davis becomes Minister...but damn, what floors me is ’at bloke’s one of ‘em.” He shook his head.

“Which them are you referring to, Finnegan?” Hetty snorted. “The parent of one of our victims them, or the really well-connected triarii them, or the Black Lions Auror squad them?”

Now it was Ron’s turn to gulp for air. “Black Lions...he’s one of them?”

“Sie,” Hetty corrected. “And if by one of them you mean their captain, the legendary Auror who single-handedly took down twenty Death Eaters at the Battle of Ellis Moor in the First Voldemort War and is even more feared and respected than Mad-Eye Moody in his prime, then yes—sie is one of them.”

Hetty rolled her eyes at Ron’s sudden pallor. “You know, none of this should come as a surprise to any of you. You’ve all studied the First Voldemort War and Auror history; the name Blackforge should be familiar to you. And you’ve read the victim’s profile.” She pointed her wand at the evidence board and scrolled to Cameron Davis’ profile. “Says right here,” she highlighted the text, “surviving family members, parents: John Cameron Davis, father, 57; Aubrey Blackforge, vamar, 58; siblings: Maximillian John Davis, 32; Tracy Jeanine Davis-Smith, 26; Eloise Aubrey Davis, 20. Merlin’s sake, Tracy was even at Hogwarts with you lot. How could you not know this?”

“She was a Slytherin,” Harry sighed. “As children we assumed all we needed to know about Slytherins was that they were all Dark wizards-in-training and every one of them had Death Eaters for parents.”

“Well, it might’ve been different if we’d known one of the little snakes had a famous Auror at home,” Ron defended, his face sullen.

“Probably not, though,” Hermione added truthfully, and turned to Hetty. “Do you know why the Davises didn’t join the Order? I mean, we obviously could’ve used their skill during the war. Look at what a difference Mad-Eye made even with his declining...reputation.”

Hetty shrugged. “Couldn’t say for certain, but if I had to wager a guess I’d say it had something to do with the way Dumbledore wasn’t too welcoming of most of the old pure-blood families. That, and for the most part the Davises were pretty staunch supporters of the Ministry—Blackforge was, at any rate. Trained with Scrimgeour, you know. I read somewhere that sie led the Homestead Militia during the war, though, so they must’ve split with old Rufus at some point.

“But none of that gets us any closer to our killer, so I’ll just say this last bit and we can all get back to work: I wouldn’t want Aubrey Blackforge as an enemy; and for those of you who are still hung up on it, not every triarii can be identified as such on sight—case in point, Aubrey Blackforge and our newst victim Leslie Redbank—so work on your gods-damned misconceptions and keep your prejudices to yourselves while you work out how stupid and juvenile they really are.”

Ron and Seamus had the grace to look ashamed as Hetty crossed her arms over her chest. Harry nodded his thanks to her and waved Tonks on to update them on the latest developments in the poison-pen parchment analysis. Before she could get started, though, a great grey owl swooped in through the concealed owl-post door high in the wall. Harry vaguely recognised her as belonging to the Headmistress and quickly relieved the bird of the thick letter she carried.

“Hold on, Tonks.” Harry skimmed the first few passages and sat up straighter. “Definitely hold on. We may have some new leads here.”

The team buzzed with interest as Harry scanned further. “All right,” he said, making sure his voice carried though he didn’t look up at his team. “Hetty, you go retrieve the full allocution reports for the boys we brought in on the Anna Malfoy-Black assault. Tonks, you and Hermione need to take a look at them and get back to us with what you find out, ASAP.” He carefully separated a packet from the second page of the letter and spelled it to cross the table, sparing the woman a fond look and a rakish grin as he did. “If I’m right about these, your parchment analysis report is going to need some major revising. Ron, Seamus, you’re on legwork.

“I’ve got to meet with Kingsley and we all need something to eat. Let’s meet back here at three, and we’ll take it from there.” He gathered up his own share of the paperwork and left for the Head Auror’s office. He was somewhat baffled by Kingsley’s reaction to Davis’ candidacy now, considering that he and the man’s veru had been training partners and were likely friends. And while Harry would have liked the chance to talk to his friend and superior to better understand, he certainly wasn’t looking forward to the well-deserved bollocking he was about to receive. He knew he had it coming, though; he and Ron had crossed the line today. As the task force leader, Harry knew he was supposed to set the right example and he should have put himself beyond Ron’s petty jibes.

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“It seems I may not have to reprimand you at all if the look on your face is anything to go by.” Harry jumped as Kingsley’s deep voice interrupted his thoughts. He looked up in surprise to find himself already in front of the Head Auror’s door with the man standing beside him. Harry’s sheepish look earned him a brief smile. “I was just returning from escorting Aubrey to the Atrium, thought I’d pace you a ways. Must’ve been some deep thinking for you not to notice.” Kingsley opened his door and ushered Harry inside.

“Something like that,” the young man grimaced. “Look, Kingsley, I’m sorry. I was bang out of line this morning. My actions reflected poorly on you and the department. I lost sight of my responsibility to my team as their leader, and to the victims. I can’t—”

“Hmm...so I did interrupt another infamous Harry Potter guilt trip, then,” Kingsley stepped in smoothly. He rolled his neck on his shoulders, effectively throwing Harry off his self-recriminatory track. “Spare me the baggage, Harry. You know what you did wrong and what’s expected of you from this point on, yes?”

“Yes, sir.” The problem with getting in trouble with Kingsley was that Harry was never sure whether he’d be bellowing or take the role of the disheartened mentor. Either way was awful, but Harry suspected his friend knew just how much Harry hated to disappoint the people he cared about and just how to use Harry’s propensity for guilt to the best effect.

The imposing Head Auror nodded slightly, the very discreet golden hoop he preferred these days glinting in the spelled sunlight of his enchanted windows. “Then there’s no need to discuss it further. I will say, though, you did not make as poor an impression on Aubrey as you might think. Sie was very taken by you.”

“Right, I’m sure...comes in to check how far we’ve progressed in catching hir gyrl’s killer and finds the task force’s supposed leader brawling like a schoolboy.” Harry snorted and scrunched through his hair. “I’m so sorry, Kings,” he sighed.

“Enough, Harry. I was quite serious. Your...minor indiscretion aside—and trust me, sie was much more concerned about Weasley and Finnegan’s behaviour than your response to it—sie was quite adamant that you are the right one to lead this investigation. Coming from a former Auror of Aubrey’s calibre that’s quite the compliment.”

Harry brushed his thumb over his nose, acquiescing with ill-grace, then deferred. “About that...last night...and, well, Pendleton just tore us all a new collective arsehole for not—”

“Making the connection between renowned Auror First Class Aubrey Blackforge and Ministerial candidate John Davis?” Kingsley chuckled darkly. “I had a similar lecture direct from the source, and I guarantee the task force got off easy with Pendleton.

“In my defence, John Davis is a relatively common name, and Aubrey and I haven’t really kept up with each other over the years. Sie didn’t discuss hir family much when we were partners, and once we’d parted ways over my participation in the Order sie transferred to a satellite field office, and we drifted even further apart.

“Not to excuse my ignorance, but I’ve been a very poor friend to hir. John’s candidacy has given us an opportunity to become reacquainted that I will welcome. Aubrey is likely the strongest person I’ve ever known; sie is incredibly loyal and good-hearted. A good friend to have, and—” Kingsley looked pointedly at Harry— ”a good ally.”

There was a wealth of information in that pause that Harry didn’t really understand, but it seemed his friend had come around. “So....”

“So I do not envy Arthur, Harry. Come spring many of us will have to make some hard decisions.” Kingsley’s deep chocolate eyes were sorrowful but resolved, and Harry knew that for him more than most, the choice would be a wrenching one.

Kingsley pursed his thick lips a moment, then offered tea which he took some time to prepare. When he handed Harry a cup of the steaming brew he sighed. “Aubrey and I spoke on many things this morning; sie brought many things to my attention about the running of this department and made me seriously reconsider what I’ve been doing both in this office and beyond.

“I’ve developed tunnel-vision, according to Aubrey, and after taking stock I’m not disinclined to say the same...Harry, any lingering doubts I held beyond last night have been tempered. You will have my support in whatever comes in response to your affiliation with Malfoy and Renaissance Foundation.”

Harry sank back into his chair. The Howlers were an annoyance but ultimately meant little. It was the other repercussions he’d been concerned about—the possibility of being abandoned by his friends, and political manoeuvres in the Ministry that had worried him. Now he knew he had at least one of his friends firmly in his corner, and someone more experienced in navigating the political undercurrents to watch his back in the Ministry. He could face his path alone, but he’d much rather have company he could trust alongside him as a new path was blazed into the Wizarding world’s future.

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Triarii-specific Terminology:
Vamar: Parent, usually shortened to vama, or vam
Veru: Triarii spouse

A/N: Next up…big clues, Harry and Ron lock horns (again), Harry and Draco get closer...not that close! Sheesh you have a dirty mind!

Chapter 10 Review Responses
Thank you, Thank you, Thank you for the reviews!

applesauce_N_soysauce: Yay! Thank you! They’re definitely getting there.

Lily: Thank you! They’ve been fun to write this way.

thrnbrooke: Hee hee, and here’s your next fix, hope it was a good one!

Kaen: Thank you!

Whitmore: Umm…yeah, I suppose there was, and a bit more in this one. Hopefully it’s not too obtrusive.

Rakel: No arse-kicking yet, but close. Harry is definitely losing patience. Course he’s spent more time with Draco than anyone else so he has greater insight. Thank you for reading!