Gryffindor Investigations

Disclaimer: I own the characters of Shiro Watanabe and his father. All other characters, place, objects and concepts without real-world analogs are the property of JK Rowling.

Rating: PG-13

Pairings: Harry-Ron, mentioned Harry-Ginny

It was early evening in Croydon. In an immaculately-kept kitchen, two young people were seated at a small table, finishing a very satisfying dinner—at least, satisfying to Ronald Weasley. After an initial cautious sip, he had gulped down his soup with lightning speed, and had devoured the salmon, dill potatoes, and lemon zested green beans so quickly his knife and fork had almost generated enough heat to bake the salmon on their own.

It couldn’t be helped, really. Ron came from a large family; if you didn’t eat quickly, you might not eat at all. Also, he had a very deep appreciation for good food, and Hermione, surprisingly enough, had turned out to be a remarkable cook. So Ron was focused almost entirely on his food—so much so, in fact, that it was only when Hermione was pouring coffee that he noticed her abstraction. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

Hermione sat down across from him. She had that look on her face, the one that Ron knew meant that she was working out a problem she wasn’t entirely certain she had a handle on. “Have you talked to Ginny lately?” she asked him.

Ron thought for a moment. “No, not for a few weeks,” he said. He took another sip of coffee. “Last time I talked, it seemed she was getting pretty serious with his Shiro guy. Why, have you talked to her?”

“Just this past weekend,” Hermione said. “She didn’t mention Shiro at all. In fact, it was a very odd call in general, Ron.” She put her cup down and leaned forward, her eyes concerned and troubled. “It seemed like every time I tried to ask about her, she got evasive, started changing the subject—she didn’t want to talk about what was going on with her at all.”

“That’s not like Ginny,” Ron said. “I mean, she’s not tremendously talkative, but she’s never been shy—except when she thought she had a crush on Harry, of course.” He leaned back, thoughtful. “You know……Harry and I had been thinking about taking a trip out there. Maybe he and I can spend some time with her, talk to her. I’ll talk with him about it when I get home.”

When Ron returned to Grimmauld Place, Harry, of course, was waiting up for him, sitting up in bed reading. “Hey, sexy,” he smiled, tossing his book aside.

“Hey, yourself,” Ron said. He leaned over and gave Harry a long and lingering kiss. “How’s your uncle?”

Harry’s face clouded. “He’s going to pull through. The doctor said is was a near thing, though. He’s as heavy as almost three normal men, and his heart is starting to give out. Aunt Petunia, though…she’s scared. She’s absolutely terrified of losing my uncle.” He shook his head. “You know, my whole view of her has been as my ‘wicked stepmother’—she was always yelling at me, or giving me horrid things to do, or just making my life miserable, or spoiling Dudley.” He shifted over as Ron, now undressed, joined him in their bed and took him into his arms. Harry laid his head on Ron’s shoulder. “It’s just that…I’d never seen her be tender before. Or vulnerable. She must have cried on my shoulder for two hours after I got her back to Privet Drive. I finally put her to bed after she cried herself out, and promised I’d be back tomorrow.” He shook his head again. “After all this time—I guess I’m having trouble believing that she’s actually human after all. Weird.”

“Speaking of weird…” Ron related the brief conversation he’d had with Hermione. “I’m going to talk to my mother tomorrow, but maybe we should think a little more strongly about going out there.”

“Maybe.” Harry shifted again, this time to face his lover. “But right now…”


Mrs. Weasley confirmed Hermione’s views; Ginny had been evasive and uncommunicative with her, too. “I think we need to pay her a visit,” Harry said as he ended the Firecall.” He grinned. “We’re going to have to fly, Ron.”

Ron shrugged. “It’s a long trip by broomstick, but still…”

“Not broomstick, Ron,” Harry laughed. “Airplane.”

Ron paled. “Those…Muggle things? The ones that fly without magic?”

“That’s right.”

“No way,” Ron gulped. “No way I’m getting on one of those things. It’s unnatural.”

Harry gave him an incredulous look. “Ron, you’re a wizard. What exactly is natural about sticking your face into a fireplace to talk to someone?”

“It’s…it’s…oh, I don’t know!” Ron paced around the living room. “You’re serious about this?”

Harry nodded.

Ron rolled his eyes. “All right. But I still think it’s unnatural.”


Flights from London to Tokyo don’t come cheap, but Harry had taken the precaution of converting a portion of his fortune into Muggle money; he had more than enough to pay for two first class tickets for himself and Ron. They traveled light; Ginny wasn’t answering Firecalls, but Ron figured that once they were actually on her doorstep, she’d allow them to connect her apartment to Grimmauld Place via Floo travel.

They had to switch planes in Istanbul, and Ron took the opportunity to divest himself of lunch, breakfast, and the previous night’s dinner. Harry knew it wasn’t precisely nice to take pleasure in Ron’s discomfort, but…

Twenty hours after they left London, Harry and Ron disembarked in Tokyo. Harry had surreptitiously performed a Translation Charm while the other passengers were asleep; he and Ron were able to speak perfect Japanese by the time they arrived. Finding a taxi was no problem, and Harry and Ron were soon on their way to the central part of the city.

Finding Ginny in a city that size presented even less of a problem. Both of them had a connection to her that they were able to use as a magical homing sense—Ron by virtue of their blood tie, and Harry because he and Ginny had been lovers. It took less than twenty minutes to get within a two-block radius of her, at which point Harry dismissed the taxi and the two set out on foot.

Ginny’s flat proved to be in an ultra-modern building, cold and almost featureless. It certainly bore none of the character of the Burrow or Grimmauld Place, or even the Dursleys’ home on Privet Drive, and Harry wondered how Ginny, normally so in tune with her surroundings, could stand the place.

While Ron stood guard, Harry performed a quick Unlocking Charm on the doors, and smiled as the locks opened with a click. The two wizards entered the building, found the directory, and found Ginny’s apartment number.

Ginny was clearly surprised to see them when she opened the door in response to their knock. Surprised—and a little upset. Her eyes were red from crying, and she looked like she hadn’t slept in a while.

“H-harry?” she asked, her voice thick with fatigue. “Ron? What…what in Merlin’s name are you two doing here?”

“We came to see you,” Harry said, still a little shocked at Ginny’s appearance. “Gin…what’s wrong?”

Ginny’s eyes teared up again. “It’s Shiro,” she said as the tears began to fall. “He……his father’s been murdered.”