Surfing [T. W.]

An interview took place somewhere in the Ministry of Magic’s many offices.



“Ah! come in Harry, have a seat.”



“Thanks Kingsley, Draco will be along in a minute; he’s just finishing off the tests you wanted. I feel intrigued vibes coming out of his brain.”



“I hope you’ll be just as intrigued. I hear Coach Ginny has had you practicing with the Harpies.”



“Yes. It keeps Draco and I fit. As you know; we were good Seekers at Hogwarts, so her team gets some practice against us using our mind talents; it sharpens up their reactions very well.”



“Ever tried surfing? They say it’s the nearest thing Muggles get to flying a ’stick.”



“Stop fencing Kingsley. You already know we have. The Malfoy estate has ‘un petit maison a Guéthary’ with a portal back home. So you must be aware that some of us go there when the house-elves report good surf and few people … Are you wanting us to hang out with the in crowd; mmm?”



“Wait till Draco and Arthur arrive, but you’re on the right track.”



“Arthur! Well it must be important.”



“What’s important Partner?” asked Draco as he came in through the door which was being held open by Father Weasley.



Harry went to help his lover with the files and sample bottles he was carrying.



“It’s rather hush-hush boys, so let’s put up some privacy charms, shall we?” Arthur started weaving one of the personal top security charms that Hermione had recently invented for him.



‘I think you’ll be challenged by this one, Lover; I know you and I have discussed wanting some excitement. Well this could get us out of our mundane environment for a bit,’ sent Draco through their mind-meld.



“I hope you’re not spoiling my surprise, Draco?”



“No Arthur, just getting the Boy Wonder enthused.”



“I think that title is slightly old hat now,” remarked Harry acidly.



“So what are the results, Draco?” asked Kingsley before the partners started bickering, spreading a parchment, prior to taking notes.



“Both the blood and semen samples are not human, that’s for sure,” replied Draco. “The best we can come up with is a troll. It probably explains the damage to the victim too. As to the narcotic substances – many are available from Muggle pushers, but they’re cut with various magical plants and a trace of something organic. Judging by the quantities present; anyone who took a normal dose would have some extreme sexual fantasies. As well as that, a Muggle would imagine he could fly. A Magical would think he was the best Quidditch player and try to make rolls that neither Harry nor I would dare to attempt, or, for that matter, many a professional player. The detailed analysis is in my report.”



Kingsley received a thick file from Draco.



“So was the victim magical or Muggle?” asked Chief Minister Weasley.



“It’s difficult to tell, Uncle. I found traces of used magic, the kind a semi-squib might display. Then again I reckon that a Muggle with one of Hermione’s medallions would display many of the same symptoms. The most likely is that he had been subject to an unforgivable, probably Imperio, to make him more compliant. If he was a Magical then he would have been quite weak, he was in the water too long to be absolutely sure; sorry.”



“Stop being mysterious with me, Partner; I can feel you blocking out something.”



“I’ll tell you Harry,” put in Arthur. “As I said, it’s top secret. A week ago the Muggle Prime Minister’s family got an anonymous note, on parchment, threatening to harm their son unless we released certain of the Death Eater prisoners from Azkaban; moreover it was delivered by an eagle-owl. So far MI5 have turned up a complete blank and Kingsley’s working hand in glove with one of their top people. Two days later came another parchment, again by eagle-owl. It advised us to look at a particular body which the Saint Ives’s Police had in their mortuary. It seemed to suggest that the Muggle Prime Minister’s son would meet a similar fate, though not in quite so many words.”



“So that lands it well on our plate; is that what you’re saying?”



“Yes Harry; but there’s more,” put in Kingsley. “Christopher – the son – is gay and has been known to have, what my MI5 colleague refers to as, unwise relationships. I gather from that, that he has been fairly promiscuous, otherwise he would have put it in the singular.”



“So the samples I’ve been working on came from the body referred to.”



“Quite right Draco – a known gay surfer – almost certainly one of Chris’s amours.”



“Yes, that fits with some of the contents of his stomach. Perhaps the MI5 forensic people have a match?”



“They do indeed – very much akin to the PM’s DNA. Therefore that young man most likely had a fellatio arrangement with Chris, just before he died.” Kingsley looked slightly embarrassed as he read this from another file.



“Okay, when do we leave? Where do we go? Are we disguised? If so it will have to be good as we are likely to meet other buddies that we know.” Harry was definitely enthused.



“Down boy, down. Uncle Arthur hasn’t finished yet.” Draco patted Harry’s thigh.



“Disguises are out – as you say; you’ll most likely meet buddies that you know. We suggest a camping site near Saint Ives to start with; near a good beach and some gay nightlife. MI5 have had a good trawl round the district with photos of known Dark sympathisers and drawn a complete blank. The handwriting on the notes does not resemble the Master’s or any of his known colleagues either. Our joint supposition is that whoever it is, is acting on the Master’s orders but is unknown in Europe, because Community Intelligence is involved as well. We think that the protagonists won’t recognise either of you, because you’ve been out of the limelight for some time. You’re still young and fit enough to pass as dedicated surfers slightly beyond their prime.”



“Less of that, Uncle Arthur – I’m as fit as a fiddle.”



“Stop it Draco – think of the conversation we were having a month ago.”



“Oh – all right Partner, but we agreed on at least couple of seasons more, didn’t we?”



“Good thing we kept up the Quidditch practice, isn’t it?”



“For everyone else’s consumption,” continued Kingsley. “You are taking some of the agreed sabbatical leave to refresh yourselves after being stuck behind your desks. Hagrid is lending you his motorbike, please use it wisely; it’s glamoured to look even more disreputable that it really is. Justin’s come up with a magic tent that has all the mod cons, but it has a glamour on it to look like three lazy layabout’s messy quarters with nothing worth stealing and the sweaty smell to accompany it.”



“Eew!”



“It’s all right Draco; the smell doesn’t permeate into your real living quarters, or so I’m told. Ron and Hermione are also taking leave, ostensibly to get themselves back into academia. In reality they’re taking over the classes that Pullet and Phealey conduct at Hogwarts. That means you’ll have your two favourite elfin assistants with you, too.”



“That makes me feel much better. How much do they know?”



“As much as you need to tell them; they have the same high security clearance that both of you hold. Mackenzie will be your contact and he will introduce you to his MI5 colleague when you get there. They’re posing as a middle-aged gay-couple looking for some fresh meat to share. They’ll be at the Golden Lion on, Tuesdays and Thursdays; and the Badger Inn on Mondays and Wednesdays. As for the weekends you’ll have to take pot luck; okay?”



“Where are we camping?”



“We suggest this camp-site to start with.” Arthur showed them one on the map, near a good surfing beach. “After that it’s up to you. Here’s some Muggle money to start you off, Mackenzie will keep you funded. The tent’s well stocked, even if it doesn’t look like it from the front, no doubt Phealey and Pullet will see to anything more that you need.”



“When do we start?”



“Anything urgent on your desks, that your 2i/c can’t deal with, Harry?”



“Half an hour’s chat will sort that out, Kingsley.”



“I’m ready now – I expected that we’d be going.”



“Why didn’t you flash me Partner?”



“I did, but you were preoccupied with your team’s reports.”



“Probably best, I wouldn’t have been able to concentrate on them if I’d known.”



“That’s what I thought too. Well … Go off and instruct your assistant. I’ll get the bike and tent ready, if you give me your broomstick and I’ll miniaturise that as well.”



“Hold on! Hold on! Harry’s enthusiasm is obviously very infectious.” Kingsley smiled indulgently, remembering his own eagerness when he was younger. “You have to meet your Muggle partner yet. He’s MI5, of course, on the highest security rating, but he’s not aware of our magical community yet. He thinks you’re a couple of special operatives from another branch.”



“That explains the third sleeping place.” Harry looked smug.



“So: ‘Hi, we’re the wizards who’ll working with you’ would startle him slightly.”



“That’s an understatement, Draco; extreme scepticism would be his reaction. He’d then write you off as a couple of nutters.”



“He must have special skills and gadgets, not James Bond stuff, but aids for spying and special weapons. So maybe we could swap ideas and skills in a getting-to-know-you situation.”



“Yes Harry, that’s what we thought too. We already know of the relaxed situation at Godric’s Hollow and how people from different specie backgrounds live together; mainly because you two and John have a special rapport.” Arthur smiled hopefully.



“Uncle, I get the feeling there’s some more yet. Something to do with his identity;” Harry looked piercingly at his pseudo-father.



“Can’t hide much from you, can I? His name is Jimmy Foley.”



“Any relation to Grandpops?”



“I wish you wouldn’t use that name for him, Harry.”



“Well he likes it and, as we have no living grandparents, he and Granddad Thompson have taken on the role, haven’t they, Draco?”



“Yes, I s’pose so.” Draco was still slightly worried about having two Muggles as stand-in grandfathers, but couldn’t deny his partner’s need for a family.



“To get back to business!” Kingsley knew that his two best operatives would go into an extended niggle if they were allowed to. “He is a nephew and has visited Godric’s Hollow a few times, so you must have met him; a dirty blond with piercing blue eyes and a penchant for odd vehicles.”



“Oh yes! Nice body but boring mind, we thought he had a civil service desk job, and tinkered with motors as a way of relieving the mindless workaday toil.”



“A good cover, yes? If he can fool your two inquisitive minds.” Arthur chuckled. “He thinks you’re two slightly over-the-top hippies with more money than sense, living in some sort of commune based on Magnet Cottage.”



“Yes … Well … It does fend off all kinds of awkward questions, doesn’t it?”



“His point of view, exactly, Draco; part of your cover story is that you met in the village and are going on holiday together. He’s at the store now waiting for you to contact him. It’s a rush job so your getting to know each other period can last a little over twenty-four hours before departing for St Ives.”



The Blakes said goodbye to their superiors and went to Harry’s office to collect his ’stick. Harry was slightly longer with Peter Thompson, but his assistant was left thoroughly briefed. Being Assistant to the chief Auror was a responsible job, and Peter was quite capable of handling most things that came Harry’s way and could always call on ample support from the Smiling Ones. Peter also had a good working relationship with Arthur’s chief of security, Kingsley, and Harry knew they would work amicably together on any really tough problems.



The Blakes decided to go to Magnet Cottage with their miniaturised stuff first, as they needed to change into suitable outfits. The next port of call was to be Grandpops’s Ironmongery store.



§§§§§§



They entered through the messy yard at the back of the shop following the sound of tinkering.



“Mr Jimmy Foley?” Harry enquired tentatively.



“Yes. Who wants him?” Jimmy looked up from under the bonnet of Grandpops’s delivery van. “Oh! The rest of the team; give me a minute and I’ll be with you.” Jimmy was ten minutes before the bonnet went down. “Sorry about that, but Grandpops says he can’t afford another van; so I keep it in trim for him.”



Jimmy went to the tap and cleansed his hands thoroughly before offering to shake. Then they introduced themselves.



“Ah … Right … You pair have a really good cover, you fooled me completely,” Jimmy said, as they shook hands.



“Um … Well … We thought you were a boring desk clerk too.” Harry smiled warmly.



“Magnet Cottage is safe, may we show you round. I suspect we need to disclose various secrets to each other.” Draco indicated the openness of the yard.



“Good idea, I’ll just collect my knapsack.”



“You have a satnav, do you?”



“Yes Draco, do you want to borrow it?”



“No, but have it to hand when we get to the cottage, please.”



Harry caught on to his lover’s thinking and approved.



Whilst Jimmy collected his things, the Blakes chatted with Grandpops, who told them all to have a good holiday as they left.



John waved to them from his study window as they walked up Almoners Row and they stopped to chat with Wash’s mum who was pruning roses in her front garden, dropping hints of a holiday together. Once inside the cottage their debonair faces became serious.



“No doubt you have specialist skills which we should know about,” started Draco. “However would you mind if we have the first go?”



“No problem – fire away.”



“Have you heard of telepaths, Jimmy?”



“Yes; sort of live in each other’s minds, don’t you. I’ve met a couple of pairs before. That’ll be useful.”



Harry felt relieved and slightly surprised at Jimmy’s matter-of-fact acceptance.



“We have other greater talents as well. We’d better throw you in at the deep end, we think. How accurate is your satnav?”



“One of the best, why?”



“Take a reading here and double check it.”



“Done.”



“Right, come with us.”



They went upstairs and through the portal to Grimmauld Place.



“Bloody Hell! We’re in London. Blasted electronic foolishness, must need re-calibrating.”



“No it doesn’t, just bear with us.”



Jimmy followed them back to the cottage, upstairs and into the Manor and through a further portal.



“Now where are we?”



“Ah … Guéthary? Hells Bells! That’s some talent. Wow!”



“Let’s go back to the cottage shall we?”



They sat on the upper patio drinking Winky-made Butterbeer, and advising each other about their particular talents. Jimmy was used to elves wandering around having seen them singing in the church choir; so when Pullet and Phealey popped in to make up the rest of the team he was not over-surprised. Harry and Draco told the elves of the project with occasional extra information from Jimmy.



“Happy so far Jimmy?” asked Harry as they finished their drinks.



“Mmm … sort of … that jumping around thing takes some getting used to though. Are we going to use it to get to St Ives?”



“Sorry, it takes a lot of energy to make a portal and we must be absolutely sure that both ends are secure.”



“Yes; I can understand that. Hang on … did you infer that you made those portals?”



“Yes! The first one nearly killed us. It was an accident really; so we researched a lot before making another. It still knocks us about a lot, not that we’ve made that many.”



“So your speciality is mind things, is that it?”



“Sort of.” Harry pointed at a table and moved it to another spot.



“Heard of that one, telekinesis isn’t it?” Jimmy looked slightly smug.



“You’re getting closer.” Draco Accioed his broomstick; giving a short demonstration of some spectacular Quidditch dives and rolls.



Jimmy went white: “Ah … Ah … Magic? No … Impossible! But then? Oh dear!”



“Your supposition is quite right, Jimmy, about one person in a hundred thousand has the talent.” Harry continued: “We are a very small community in the world’s eyes; that is, if we allowed the world to see us. You are bound by the Official Secrets act, aren’t you? This knowledge falls into the highest category of need-to-know secrecy. Our flower-power mage personas here hide the real truth, although some of the villagers still believe in the old ways, as they call it.”



“Ah … Yes … Grandpops is one, isn’t he. I just put his ramblings down to his old age, you know. Someday soon he’ll have to give up the shop, but I’m the only relative evenly the remotest bit interested.”



“You could do worse than take over,” Draco added. “Our main repertoire is charms, hexes and curses – some of the more deadly of which we are not supposed to use. We have a feeling that one of those was used on the unfortunate young man, to force him to do something he would not otherwise be inclined to do.”



“I’ve seen the pictures; to be split like that must have been horrific. How do you force someone to do that?”



“By taking over his mind and willpower – we call it Imperio – and it is one of the ones we should not use, although Harry has a licence to, but only to disarm would be attackers.”



“Sounds like our firearms guidelines. I have a licence in very much the same words only it’s killing in defence of one’s self and team mates. I also have various electronic bugging and tracking devices and a useful set of intruder alarms too.”



“Those could be useful in certain magical environments, when our use of magic might be detected by other Magicals.”



Kreacher was reticent in his questions, promising to look after the cottage and the children who were likely to turn up fairly soon. Of course coach Ginny and Stable-mistress Daphne would also be there to give maternal support. In place of the missing fathers Uncle Hamish had been asked to stick around. The Blakes waited for the children to arrive back from Dolores’s school. The Dads explained about going away on serious business and that Uncle Hamish would be there if they needed anything. Daphne and Lily wandered in; Albus and Scorpius said they had teamed up to defeat James’s attempts at bullying and that they would be ready to shelter Lily who would be starting her first term after the holidays. James pretended to be aghast but both Dads were aware of his forceful tendencies.