Renaissance

A/N: Thanks for the reviews! And thank you to Mamacita-san and refuz2luz!!

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3.

The next morning, unsettled by Helene’s assertions, Harry went into work early and used the Auror’s Floo connection to Floo to Hogwarts.

“Auror Potter,” the Headmistress greeted him, proudly using his title, just as she had every time she’d seen him in the five years since he’d graduated from his abbreviated Auror academy training. “What a pleasant surprise. How are you this morning?”

Harry grinned sheepishly, always feeling a bit the schoolboy in front of his old Head of House. “I’m well, considering, Headmistress. How are you?”

“Minerva,” she reproached him. “And I am also well, considering, Harry,” she said, her smile fading. “The death of a student is never weathered easily at an institution such as this.”

Inwardly Harry cringed. He’d been so unsettled by the American witch that he’d actually forgotten Cameron Davis and the murders in his turmoil. “How are the students handling it?” he asked politely, now personally and professionally interested.

McGonagall frowned. “Well, for the most part Mer. Davis was very well liked, Harry. Hir death has had a profound impact on the student body, as well as the staff.”

“And those who didn’t like hir?” Harry asked, picking up on McGonagall’s unspoken censure.

The aged witch folded her fingers and peered at Harry over her glasses as though she was assessing him. Eventually she convinced herself of the argument, or was satisfied with what she saw. “As you know, Harry, Hogwarts has long prided itself on our inclusivity. We have the highest Muggle-born student enrolment of any magical learning institution.”

Harry shifted uncomfortably as he began to understand where McGonagall was going.
 
“Muggle culture is…different in many respects, and there are some students who have been unable to adjust to the attitudes held....”

Harry sighed. “So sie was harassed by a few Muggle-born students who aren’t as accepting of triarii?” he said shortly. He didn’t want to go round the long way on this. He could already see the day stretching out before him and it wasn’t a pretty picture.

The Headmistress frowned at him for interrupting but nodded firmly. “Yes. There were several incidents of harassment before hir death, and now, well, there have been a number of distasteful displays and inappropriate commentary in support of the killings.”

Harry blinked. “In support of the killings?”

“There are those who considered Cameron Davis an aberration of nature, Harry. They feel these killings are—” the Headmistress shuddered— “‘an example of natural selection.’” She shook her head sadly and reached into her desk. A moment later Harry had in his hands a tract that was so hateful and violent it made him ill to think that students of his beloved Hogwarts were capable of writing it.

“Copies of those or something similar have appeared in every common room since the attacks began. After Cameron’s death, even more appeared.”

“Tell me the students aren’t buying into this,” Harry said in outrage, waving the pamphlet. “It’s as bad as the Death Eaters—worse maybe!”

“We haven’t been able to identify the culprits, Harry, and until we do we cannot stop them. Unfortunately they’re going after young, impressionable minds. Seeds of prejudice and hatred are being planted despite our best efforts.”

Harry flipped the tract, Freaks and Monsters: The Truth about He/She’s, onto its face. “Are there other triarii students at Hogwarts, Minerva? Other children trying to learn here who have to put up with—with crap like this?” he asked indignantly, ignoring the disapproving look he garnered for his language. Frankly he couldn’t think of what else to call the item in his hand.

The Headmistress frowned. “I cannot give you that information, Harry, but I assure you we’re doing the best we can to protect all of our students.”

Harry nodded. He knew how fiercely the witch would protect her charges and to what lengths she would go to ensure their safety.

“Minerva, who was Ameinias?” he asked, getting back to the true reason behind his visit.

He was shocked to see the usually unflappable Headmistress actually pale. “Where did you hear that name?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Harry said firmly, feeling very much as he had during the war when older members of the Order were trying to decide how much information he should be told. “Tell me who he is.”

Again the witch sighed. “There is only one reference to Ameinias in the Hogwarts Library. According to Purvis Goodman, who wrote A History of Darkness, he was a Dark wizard who tortured and maimed Muggle-born and dual-heritage wizards to prove his theories about Magical dissolution in intermarriage.” She looked away from Harry toward the fireplace. “Albus and I argued for an age about that book, and about excluding mentions of Ameinias in the Hogwarts curriculum.”

Harry felt ill. “Is it the truth? About Ameinias torturing people?”

McGonagall’s lips were pinched. “No. Goodman was a sad little man, desperate to make his mark. He thought to achieve scholastic fame by challenging, or rather maligning, one of magical theory’s great thinkers. Ameinias was an academic, not a Dark wizard, and his contributions are now included in the curricula of History of Magic and Magical Theory at Hogwarts. He was actually quite a brilliant wizard and developed tests and measures we still use to measure innate magical strength. He travelled the ancient world to test and interview hundreds of dual-heritage and Muggle-born wizards during his time. Not an easy feat, considering there were generally so few. His goal was not to provide a basis for exclusion; he was much more far-seeing than that. He wanted to determine what would happen to magical people if our society fully integrated with Muggles. It was with a thought to the future of magic that he began his research.”

“So it is true that magic can be bred out of a bloodline? Why didn’t we learn this?” Harry leaned forward, his face a study in concern.

For a moment Minerva McGonagall looked ashamed. “It is true,” she said softly, and raised her eyes to Harry’s. “Did you know, Harry, that of the four original McGonagall lines, only the line of my family remains magical? Oh, there are a few Muggle-born wizards and witches produced from the other lines every now and again, but it is a rare occurrence.”

“No, I didn’t know.”

She nodded. “I’d heard it from my parents, but it’s something I learned for certain when researching my family for my Genealogies study here at Hogwarts. The other lines intermarried so heavily with Muggles that eventually their magical heritage was lost to them.”

“We didn’t have a Genealogies course, Minerva.” Harry frowned, thinking of what he could have learned about his family, about himself, in such a class.

She smiled sadly. “I know—another thing Albus and I argued over. And something that has now been rectified. You must understand, Harry, as much as I loved Albus, he was…his plans for Hogwarts were…well, Albus was conducting a grand social experiment. He was convinced that full integration was the best course for the survival of Wizarding society. To that end, he encouraged greater numbers of Muggle-born students to attend Hogwarts, though many will choose not to remain in the Wizarding world but will take their knowledge of us back to the Muggle world, though we don’t prepare them for adult life there. He encouraged attitudes that were detrimental to Wizard-born, subtly intuiting to Muggle-borns and some more progressive Wizard-born that taking pride in one’s magical heritage was wrong, a sign of elitism and snobbery.”

“But it is!” Harry protested.

She shook her head firmly. “It is not. I am proud to be a witch and a McGonagall, Harry. There is nothing wrong with that. What is wrong is thinking that being a McGonagall makes me somehow intrinsically better than anyone else. That is where notions of pure-blood supremacy are prejudicial and problematic.”

“Is that why you’ve affiliated yourself with Malfoy’s Foundation?” he asked bitterly, feelings of betrayal tingeing his question.

“It is most certainly not Mer. Malfoy’s foundation. But yes, I am involved with Renaissance Foundation; I have even allowed a Hogwarts branch of the Renaissance Youth Program,” she said defiantly.

“Minerva! How could you? They’re—”

“They’re working toward maintaining our society in the face of Albus’ grand experiment,” she argued. “You left with your NEWTs, a powerful wizard with an understanding of a broad base of spells, but did you have an understanding of Wizarding history? Of your family heritage? Of Wizarding culture: our music, our arts, our varied spiritual beliefs, our clothing, our achievements and failings? Or did you just know Dark wizards were bad, Light wizards were good, Muggle-borns shouldn’t be discriminated against, and all things associated with pure-bloods were evil and exclusionary?”

Harry flinched visibly as her words slammed into him. He hated to hear the lessons of his education stated so baldly and simply. It made it seem.... “You make it sound as though we didn’t really learn anything!”

She raised her brow, “Did you, Harry? Did you really learn anything about the Wizarding world? Or did you learn just enough to make you effective soldiers and good followers? Did you learn to exercise critical thinking, to forge your own thoughts and beliefs, or just to follow the dictates of Albus Dumbledore?”

He shook his head violently. “Albus was a great man!”

“He was,” she agreed sedately. “But he was also a very flawed man, who placed his own importance before the good of our society. His experiment in the end meant more than our culture, even when the proof was before him that such an integrated society as he envisioned could not work. Tom Riddle came to Hogwarts, bullied and nearly broken by his experience with Muggles who disdained his difference. You came the same way, Harry. Albus felt the Statutes of Secrecy would one day no longer be necessary. Do you honestly see that happening, Harry? What would happen to us, in the face of Muggle intolerance and hatred, should we be exposed? And yet we take greater risks every year, to the detriment of all.

“Albus was a great man, but great men often make monumental mistakes. Albus eroded the curriculum at Hogwarts to a degree that is laughable. Generations of wizards and witches do not understand the hows and whys of their magic, only that it works. There was a reason I assigned so many essays, Harry, but what was needed was a change in atmosphere—one where students learned to respect how their magic develops, not just that it does. When you taught the DA, you showed students not just that they could do the spells but how they achieved them. That was a lesson missing from too many classrooms during Albus’ tenure.”

“But we did learn—” Harry continued to protest.

“How to avoid blast-ended skrewts? No, Harry, I know how deeply we have failed our students. I have learned a number of interesting things since I became Headmistress. Did you know that no Hogwarts student who did not have private tutors has gone on to complete a magical university education in the last forty years? Our students are too ill-prepared to keep up with children from other institutions. They lack basic knowledge about magical philosophy, history, and theory.

“And greater numbers of Hogwarts students in the Auror service have been killed or critically wounded in the line of duty than any other school’s alumni, because they leave here for Auror training without a firm grasp of the dangers posed by magical creatures, both Dark and Light. They have no understanding of the limited benefits of Dark Arts use, and are barely trained in defence against it.

“Be honest, Harry—did you really learn anything in Binns’ lessons, or that fraud Trelawney’s?” McGonagall frowned heavily at the thought of the former Divination instructor.

“Did you retain anything truly useful about caring for magical creatures from your lessons with Hagrid? Seventy-seven percent of the students who attempt them have failed their CoMC, DADA, and Divination NEWTs in the last fifteen years. The numbers of students who leave Hogwarts with more than three NEWTs has dropped to thirty percent. On average we lose five percent of each class post-OWLs.

“Open your eyes, Harry: Albus hobbled us. It will be a long while before Hogwarts is consistently turning out the highly capable students we were once known for. It used to be that a Hogwarts graduate was sought after by any of the world’s ministries and research facilities as a highly desirable employee. Our own Ministry is refusing our graduates these days. Albus needed you all at home, to be good soldiers in this war. And you were. You all gave everything you had to defeat that madman, but you have been left with so little, and that is our fault. My fault, Harry. I should have fought harder for you. We did not provide you with as full an education as we should have. It is a failing we are currently trying to rectify.”

A heavy disquiet weighted Harry’s shoulders as he considered what his long-time friend and advocate was saying. He struggled to refute what she’d said but somehow knew that she was right, and that shift in perspective settled like lead in his stomach. He’d often felt like a pawn in his old mentor’s stratagems, but to consider that generations of witches and wizards had been used similarly to prove an impossible point—that Wizarding society had been weakened from within, through the very institution that was supposed to support it through the preparation of its children—was utterly devastating.

The Headmistress broke the heavy silence and Harry’s brooding, gently leading them to a less contentious subject; but the damage was done. Harry’s worldview had once again been tipped on its ear, and he spent the rest of their meeting distracted and distanced, trying to come to terms with his new knowledge and its inevitable repercussions. Heavy-hearted, he left Hogwarts and returned to the Ministry. At least there things would make sense again.

His team was gathered in Staging Room 3; files and stacks of parchment were scattered over the table’s surface.

Harry took a deep breath and donned his “leadership” face. “All right, people, what do we know? Tonks, report.”

The Metamorphmagus grinned and stood to go to the evidence board. She tripped, though, and nearly sent Hetty’s morning coffee into Harry’s lap. “Sorry.” She grimaced slightly, finally making it to the board without further incident. Hetty just shook her head as she secured her mug, grinning at her colleague’s usual antics. “All right. Well, Hetty, Seamus, and I reviewed Wainwright and Ricks’ case file and we’ve also analysed all the poison-pen letters that were sent to Malfoy at the Renaissance Foundation.”

Tonks waved her wand and enhanced copies of the letters were projected from the evidence board. “These twelve letters were written by the same hand. See the characteristic Rs? Our letter-writer uses capital Rs instead of lowercase, and the looping tail here,” she pointed to the curved downstroke, “is consistent in every instance. We also lifted a partial thumbprint from one of the more recent letters and it’s a match to a full print we have from the first letter.”

Hermione was reading over each letter and noting the dates they’d been received. “The killer sends these letters to Malfoy after every murder. Why didn’t they make that connection before?”

Tonks nodded. “Nicely spotted, Mione, but Wainwright and Ricks put their energies mostly into the physical crimes. They viewed the poison-pens as a threat to Malfoy but unconnected to the actual murders. It wasn’t until we isolated letters from the single author and assessed them that we saw the pattern.”

Hermione nodded. “So the author, our killer or an accomplice, is writing these letters to Malfoy to gloat and threaten.” She pointed to the last letter and read, “ ‘Gather your lambs and lead them like the animals they are to the slaughter. I will destroy you and cleanse the world of your perversion.’” She shuddered. “Our killer sees Malfoy as a leader of the triarii community. Sie has been at the forefront of bringing triarii issues to the public eye, but is sie the only leader of the triarii community?”
“No, not really, but sie is one of the most recognisable triarii. Besides, it’s not so much a community, Mione,” Hetty answered. “Malfoy’s been sponsoring lectures and gatherings to promote triarii pride. Once the triarii were highly valued members of Wizarding society; in recent years, the last few decades, I’d say, they’ve been encouraged to hide themselves, to be ashamed of being different. Malfoy and hir ilk are trying to reverse the stigma and remind the general populace that the triarii are an important part of the Wizarding world.”

Seamus shuddered. “It’s just not normal. I can’t get over it. Blokes that are really birds, birds with bits. It’s creepy.”

Hetty frowned. “That’s exactly the kind of attitude they’re trying to combat. It’s not creepy. It’s not unnatural. It’s completely normal, and was accepted as such until more and more Muggle-borns brought Muggle concepts of absolute opposites into Wizarding society.”

“Hey!” Ron jumped in. “You have something against Muggle-borns, Pendleton?”

The raven-haired witch sighed and tossed her hair over her shoulder. “No, Weasley, I don’t. I do have something against people who are quick to silence anyone who points out flaws in Muggle culture and how those flaws negatively affect the Wizarding world. Fact: Western Muggle politics and society are based on dichotomies, dichotomies that had no place in the magical world until greater numbers of Muggle-borns brought those ideologies with them from the Muggle world into ours. Wizards have always been more pluralistic because the very nature of magic rarely allows for absolutes. Muggles, however, like absolutes, and we integrated those understandings and started to behave accordingly.

“Now, if you’ve finished casting aspersions on my character, we have an investigation to attend to.” She glared at the fuming redhead.

Harry didn’t like the tension that was building between members of his team, though he could see both perspectives. He and Ron had grown up defending Hermione from narrow-minded bigots who equated everything Muggle and Muggle-born with being lesser. Any criticism of Muggle-born ideals was bound to get their hackles up. At the same time, he knew too well how invested Muggle society was in the absolutes Hetty had mentioned, and magic often threw the logic of those absolutes out the window. After all, how invested could you be in concepts like man and woman when magic allowed someone like Tonks to change her form at will? Or man and animal, when Centaurs, Veela, Vampires, and Werewolves were recognised beings of your society?

“Team, settle down.” He called them to order. “Tonks, is there anything else you want to report?”

Tonks nodded pensively as though still considering the aborted argument between Hetty and Ron. She snapped back to herself after a moment and shook her head. “Um, yeah, just that as we can tell, there is a definite connection to the Renaissance Foundation here. Someone with access to the Foundation’s membership lists is involved with these murders. We’re going to start interviewing all Foundation staff with access this afternoon, see if we can identify anyone who’s been acting suspiciously or accessing files when they don’t need to.”

Harry nodded, glad to be back on track. “Sounds good. Now, I know we’re to start the security detail for Malfoy today, but I decided to shadow hir last night to get a feel for hir movements. It was...um...quite the experience.” He smiled sheepishly as members of his team chuckled. They quieted as he grew more sombre. “It was a busy night. Malfoy was attacked by four Muggle assailants outside a club in Muggle London called Transcendence.”

Hermione gasped. “Oh Harry, are you all right? What happened?” She looked him over as though invisible injuries would reveal themselves to her immediately.

Harry smirked and held up his hand. “Relax, Mione. I’m fine. Malfoy was banged up pretty good, though.” Harry frowned as he recalled the accusation that he hadn’t been as diligent as he might have been had the victim been someone other than Draco Malfoy. “I didn’t get to hir in time to keep hir assailants from hurting hir.”

Ron reached over and clasped Harry’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about it, mate. A couple of knocks might do Malfoy’s thick head some good. Too bad they didn’t knock him—uh—hir out permanently, eh?”

Harry shook off Ron’s hand, feeling he didn’t deserve the comfort. “No, Ron, that’s exactly the kind of attitude sie expects us to have. When I got hir home sie asked me if I’d hesitated because sie’s a Malfoy, and honestly I can’t say whether I did or didn’t. I could have Stupefied the Muggles assaulting hir sooner and I hesitated. The point is that if we’re going to be protecting hir and working to solve these murders, then we’re going to put everything we have into the effort. Personal feelings aside.” He fixed a hard glare on each one of his team, who all nodded their assent.

“Now, Malfoy has two people living with hir, Lars and Helene Raedler. I want to know everything about them. Seamus, you’ll head down to Records as soon as we’re done here to get started on that. Malfoy also told me sie’s hired a private security firm. We need to know who they are and what we can expect from them. If things get hairy I don’t want to have to worry about some jumped-up civilian that couldn’t complete Auror training trying to take down our suspects.”

“I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that, Harry,” Hetty spoke up. He nodded that she should continue. She held up that morning’s Daily Prophet and Harry perused the bold headline: “We Won’t Take This Lying Down!” and the smaller print below that proclaimed, “Head of Renaissance Foundation Promises Personal Security to Targeted Community”.

He tossed the paper back across the table. “Damn, the last thing we need is the media clamouring for a dog and pony show,” he sighed. “All right, so who are these people?”

Hetty pulled out another file. “I did a background check as soon as the paper came this morning. Anderson Security Systems is an American firm with an excellent reputation for both individual and community security. All their agents are fully Auror-trained, some through the American Ministry’s Auror program and others through their private training facility. They’ve lured some of the best Auror candidates away from the American Ministry with lucrative contracts and the promise of more regular shifts than most Aurors serve.”

Hetty looked up from the printed parchment at the frowns and scowls worn by some of her teammates. “Oh, don’t be like that. They’re not out to compete with Aurors. Actually the American Auror service has contracted Anderson’s agents for several operations successfully. So we know they can work with Aurors and that they’re aware that we are the representatives of the law and have final say. I don’t think it’s that bad.”

Harry huffed. “We’ll see about that. I don’t see that our Aurors and Hit Wizards are going to take kindly to having a foreign police force move in and set up shop all over Britain, especially one that answers to a private foundation and not the Ministry.”

Hetty shrugged. “We’ll see how well our people work with them tomorrow. I don’t foresee a problem. These blokes are professionals, plus they have an impressive reputation to maintain. They’re not mavericks out for vigilante justice, Harry.”

Harry frowned. “Tomorrow? What’s this?”

Seamus nodded. “Joint operation. Kingsley’s been on it for weeks, working out the logistics of coordinating an Auror presence in Hogsmeade with a private security force. Looks like Malfoy’s just increased the number of personnel to extend protection to—uh—triarii citizens.”

“The First Annual Family Harvest Festival in Hogsmeade, Harry,” Hetty added at her superior’s confused look. “There’s a festival in Hogsmeade tomorrow, open to all Wizarding families. It’s being sponsored by Renaissance Foundation. It’s been in the paper for months. It’s going to be a huge celebration.”

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose under his glasses. “I really should start reading the paper. McGonagall mentioned it to me but I didn’t think it was this weekend.” He sighed. “All right, so lots of people are gathering in Hogsmeade tomorrow for this festival. It sounds to me like a security nightmare. There’s a serial killer on the loose. Hasn’t anybody thought of that?”

“I think that’s the point—” Hermione started.

Harry waved the comment away, thinking about the conversation he’d overheard between Malfoy and the club manager. “No, I get it. Families celebrating. People gathering, not holed up in their homes afraid. It makes sense.”

“Besides, the Security wizards will be out in force, plus our own people. The killer or killers would be mad to try anything there,” Tonks added.

Harry nodded grimly. “Let’s hope so, Tonks, but a few more Aurors on alert can’t hurt. I’m sure Malfoy will be there, so it’s double duty for us.” Harry handed out copies of the duty roster. “Hetty, Tonks, and I have the Malfoy detail tomorrow. The rest of you are on call in case there’s an emergency. Now, Mione, you were doing a profile of Renaissance Foundation. What have you found out?”

Hermione opened a bulging file folder and passed a stack of colour-coded parchments to each member of the team. “I’ve charted the business connections and affiliations of each of the senior staff. The red-bordered parchments are for the Renaissance Foundation Administration, blue is for Heritage House, green for the Heritage Academy, purple is the Isis Gallery, yellow for the Thaum Centre, and orange is for the Heritage Museum. You’ll see there’s some overlap in the administration of several agencies. Most notably, Draco Malfoy is the Executive Director of Renaissance Foundation, but sie’s also on the Board of Governors for Heritage House and the Heritage Academy. Sie’s also a ‘consultant’ to the Potions Development and Practical Arithmancy departments at the Thaum Centre, and a Trustee of the Isis Gallery.”

“Smarmy git’s got his—hir slimy fingers in everything,” Ron grumbled.

“That’s not all.” Hermione shot a look at her husband but it lacked heat. “Sie still holds majority shares in Malfoy Enterprises, which owns Malfoy Manufacturing Inc., and...Dragonheart Distribution.” She paused, waiting for the inevitable fallout. She didn’t have long to wait.

Seamus sprayed coffee over the parchments he was idly perusing as Hermione spoke. “Malfoy’s behind Orbs and Dragonheart? What?”

She nodded. “It’s not widely known, but yes. I can’t begin to imagine what sie’s worth. The suspects abound if we consider the killings may be targeted at Malfoy directly.”

“What’s this about Orbs? And how does knowing Malfoy owns more than we thought change the suspects, Mione?” Tonks asked, having taken her seat.

“If these are revenge killings or meant to discredit Malfoy somehow, then we have to consider all hir business interests. Right now Malfoy Manufacturing holds the sole patent and production rights for Orbs, AFRs, and Signatus devices. Dragonheart Distribution, aka Dragonheart Entertainment, provides eighty-five percent of the programming for Orbs and owns the Daily Prophet, Witch Weekly, Wizard’s Quarterly, Modern Witch, Lumos Magazine for Young Wizards and Witches, Wizarding Times, and Wizarding Today. The Quibbler and that gossip-rag Aperio! are about the only magazines with high circulation they don’t control.”

Hetty whistled. “Cultural revolution on the quiet. Merlin, sie is damn savvy, you have to give hir that. So we also need to investigate anyone who’s unhappy that Malfoy seems to control all the media outlets, or who wants to try to break Malfoy Enterprises’ monopoly on the production of media and communication devices. You’re right; the list has got to be monster now.”

Seamus fingered his silver ear cuff. “How can Malfoy be in control of the AudioFloo? Isn’t that regulated by the Ministry?”

Hermione nodded. “The Ministry monitors and regulates the AudioFloo system like it does the Floo system. But Malfoy Manufacturing produces the all the AudioFloo Receptors.” She pointed to Seamus’ ear cuff, then brushed a finger over her own. “It’s their design and patent.”

Seamus shook his head. “And Orbs too—damn!”

All the team members looked around the staging room at the two Orb consoles set aside for their use. Orbs, a combination computer, radio, television, and game system, had come into being two years after the war and revolutionised Wizarding life. They were in nearly every home, having replaced wireless units. They could project audio or visual programming and offered the beloved programmes of the WWN as well as new shows, dramas, soap operas, children’s shows, anything really. Orb programmes had created vast employment opportunities for people of all magical abilities and were now a staple in the average Wizarding household. Orb consoles included a keyboard and printing station where specialised parchment rolls would scroll through a slot, printing off stored information or images. There were Orbs in every department of the Ministry, and several employees even brought in their own MiniOrbs; the more limited devices were highly portable and incredibly popular. That Malfoy had made a profit from the sale of every single one of them was a staggering thought.

Harry noticed that all his team members seemed to be touching or fidgeting with their AFRs. The ear cuffs, available in numerous styles and colours (much to the chagrin of parents with teenagers who insisted on matching their AFRs with their clothes), were the reception units for the improved Floo innovation, the AudioFloo, which worked much like the Muggle telephone system. On the upside, greater numbers of wizards and witches now better understood telephone etiquette, as AudioFloo procedures were much the same. (The Grangers, for example, were ecstatic that their in-laws had stopped shouting at them over the telephone.)

The thing was that AFRs and Orbs weren’t inordinately expensive. Harry would have thought that with a monopoly, Malfoy would be out to fleece the Wizarding public. Then again, economics wasn’t really Harry’s forte.

As he fingered his own cuff—his one concession to stylistic extravagance, an extended silver band that hugged a third of his ear’s rim with an engraved Celtic design set off by matte black antiquing—he shook his head. “Well, Seamus, I did say you’d regret ordering all those pay-per-view movies one day,” he joked, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

The Irishman groaned. “Oi, yeah, now that I know half me pay goes to Malfoy.”

Tonks snickered. “Half your pay? You must be ordering a lot of movies, Seamus. So who’s your favourite actress then? Liat Landon?” she teased, naming the Wizarding world’s current screen vixen.

“Buxom Delite, more like.” Ron tossed off the infamous porn-star’s name with a chuckle.

Seamus scrubbed his hands over his flushed face. “All right, all right. Enough about me—er, viewing habits.” He shook his head and tapped the stack of blue-edged parchments on the table. “Do we really think the murders are business oriented? I mean, this all seems rather personal to me. Our killer or killers may hate Malfoy, but I don’t think it’s ‘cos sie’s a business mogul. There’s hatred for the, uh—triarii here. I think that’s where we should put our focus.”

Still smiling over his friend’s embarrassment, Harry nodded. “I agree. I’ve had a few ideas about evil conspiracies too, but my gut tells me this isn’t some sinister scheme for worldwide domination. On the face of it, these murders are hate crimes. I think we’re looking for someone smart, but fuelled by an intense anger. This is a personal mission to them.” Harry checked his watch. “All right, let’s get to work and get this maniac off our streets. We’ll review the reports on the interviews Monday. Hermione, I’d also like a psychological profile of our killer by then. I’ll send last night’s incident report to each of your Signatuses. Seamus, send the information on the Raedlers to mine as soon as you get it. Those on the Malfoy detail, I expect you to stay sharp. Dismissed.”

Harry stood and was quickly flanked by his best friends.

“I don’t really have to be nice to the git, do I, Harry?” Ron whined as they made their way to the secured Floo.

Harry smirked a bit and clapped his friend’s shoulder. “I’m afraid so, Ron. Look, just don’t let hir get to you. Be the bigger man.” He looked up at his friend and chuckled. “Not that it’ll be difficult, you being part giant and all.”

Ron snickered. “All right, all right. I’ll try, but I’m not above slapping a silencing charm on him if he starts running at the mouth.”

“Ron, your pronouns! Honestly!” Hermione threw in. “And it’s our duty to be professional. Whether or not Malfoy’s grown up, we should set an example, not stoop to hir level.”

“Aw, ‘Mione, spoil my fun.” Ron picked up a handful of Floo powder. “Renaissance Foundation,” he called out as he tossed the green powder into the flames, his partners right behind.