Chapter 2
When Harry graduated from paperwork duties as a junior Auror, he was immediately paired with Ron. He figured it was partly to keep him from quitting, which he’d nearly done many times; maybe Robards thought he was more likely to remain an Auror if he was paired with his best friend. But working with Ron had been less than ideal. Ron was just so good at his job, and though Harry enjoyed it, he didn’t get that same sense of fulfillment that he knew Ron did. He found himself resenting Ron for it more and more as time passed, and after a year of being partners Harry volunteered for an undercover case knowing Ron wouldn’t. He returned a couple months later to find that Ron and his new partner were very well suited for each other; Robards apologized profusely as he handed Harry his assignment for his new partner, not knowing the relief Harry felt.
“It’s utter rubbish,” Ron had complained, trying to convince Harry of how upset he was. “Elizabeth was just supposed to be a temporary partner, until you got back, honestly Harry…”
But Elizabeth and Ron knew each other so well after just a couple of months together. Harry wasn’t too bothered, especially after watching them train together. Harry felt great after going undercover, too; the case had been so successful, and he didn’t feel so much pressure to be the perfect Auror now that Ron had Elizabeth. He even started to enjoy his job a little. The rose tinted lenses he was looking through wore off quickly, though, and Harry began to feel trapped again. For the next two years Harry bounced from partner to partner, feeling as though he was only getting worse at his job, until a week ago when Robards walked into his office with Claire Creevey.
When Harry returns from lunch, he finds Creevey scribbling away at her desk. “Hiya, Harry!” she says cheerfully. “I finished lunch early and figured I’d get a headstart on some work. How’re you–”
The furnace glows green and shoots out a note, cutting Creevey off in the middle of her sentence. Harry opens it up, then sets his sandwich on his desk and reluctantly pulls out his wand. “We’re being called in. Someone sent a tip about the unicorn’s blood dealer we’ve been chasing. Ready?”
Harry can tolerate the paperwork. He doesn’t even mind talking with suspects and victims, really, finds it interesting to read other people, to figure out their tells as he interrogates them or to help them feel comfortable enough to tell him their story. But even the thought of active duty twists his stomach into knots; it reminds him of the war, of when it truly was life or death that hung in the balance for him, and it feels silly to simulate the same adrenaline now as he deals with drug dealers and criminals.
Creevey’s eyes widen in excitement, and she follows Harry down the corridor to report to the Apparation quarters. Harry feels the familiar pit beginning to form in his stomach; he has a bad feeling about this.
“Tell me one more time what happened,” Robards says, red-faced and angry.
Harry rubs his temple. The mission was a disaster. Creevey, far too eager to be there, had done perfectly fine; that is, until Harry knocked over a trash can, revealing their hiding spot, and she’d been too slow to block him from the onslaught of hexes he immediately received. Luckily, Harry held down his Protego, but the dealer was gone before he or Creevey could fire back.
“He ran down the alley and Disapparated,” Harry says.
Robards sits down heavily. “Potter, I paired you with Creevey so you could show her the ropes. Not so you could lose the dealer we’ve been tracking for months.”
Harry sighs. It had been an honest mistake. Ron wouldn’t have made it, though. And if he had, Elizabeth would have been there immediately to make up for it. They’d be celebrating the big capture right now, not getting a stern talking to from Robards.
“Listen, Potter. I don’t know what’s going on with you. Your reports are solid and you know how to work with people. But you’re distracted. And it’s making you a liability.”
This, Harry can admit, is true.
“I know, Robards, and I’m working on it–”
“Yes, yes, you’re working on it and you’re trying your best. But that’s not cutting it, Potter. Which is why…” He hands Harry a paper from his desk. “I’m sending you to Romania.”
Harry stares at the assignment in front of him. “Sorry, what?”
“You do your best work when you’re in a new place. I remember your undercover work. That was probably the best case of your whole career, and you were stuck in Ireland for four months.”
Harry feels his career has been pretty mediocre, to be completely honest, so he doesn’t consider this high praise.
“You were at the top of your game after that case. High alert, diligent. Focused. So I want you to take this case, take Creevey with you, figure out whatever the hell is going on with you, and come back as the Harry Potter we knew two years ago.”
“ Creevey? ” Harry is incredulous. “You want me to take a junior Auror to Romania? She’s been in the office for a week, she’s not ready for that.”
“Creevey is a fast learner. And believe it or not, you are a good mentor.”
Harry takes the assignment and reads carefully. He blinks, then reads again.
“We’re sleeping in tents? ”
“Listen, Harry, I think it’ll be good for you,” Luna tells him the next morning, a sunny cheer to her words. “You need to get out of London anyway, so what if it’s a dragon sanctuary in Romania?”
“What do you mean, I need to get out of London?” Harry stabs at his pancakes.
Luna pats his arm, smiling and saying nothing.
“It just feels like a punishment,” he continues. “I’m fucking up so horribly in London that Robards needs to get rid of me, so he’s dumping me in a foreign country. Don’t they have Romanian Aurors that can deal with it?”
Officially, of course, Harry knows the sanctuary is technically under the British Ministry’s jurisdiction due to some sort of post-war agreement. He read through the background on the case– two wizards had turned up dead at the sanctuary, both British– and it makes sense for Robards to send two of his own to deal with it. But Harry? And Creevey? That part is utter nonsense.
“Doesn’t Charlie Weasley work at a dragon sanctuary in Romania?” Luna wonders.
“Yes, it’s the same one,” Harry grumbles.
The one good part of the case, he supposes. Harry only gets to see Charlie at Christmastime at the Burrow, and Charlie is the best. He’s always been grateful for the year after he and Ginny broke up when Charlie sat outside with him and listened to Harry’s sexuality crisis. (“I’m not saying this is you, Harry, but I realized I was gay when I realized straight people don’t really question that sort of thing and that I’d been wondering since sixth year.” Harry thought back to his own sixth year; all he could remember was trying to figure out what Malfoy was up to.) He and Harry exchanged many letters over the next year. Ron owled his brother immediately last night after hearing about Harry’s new assignment, and Harry soon after received an owl from Charlie telling him how great it would be to see him again. Harry finds it slightly ironic, given the matter he’s being sent to investigate, how excited everyone is acting about this case.
“Well, that’s lovely, Harry,” Luna says. “I think this all sounds very exciting. And what’s the name of your partner, again?”
Harry packs a small bag and locks up his apartment before apparating to the Burrow to say goodbye to the Weasleys. Molly has made a casserole, even though Harry only has about ten minutes before he’ll have to leave for the Portkey to the sanctuary in Romania.
“Good luck, mate,” Ron says, clapping Harry on the back. “Give Charlie a hug from all of us, yeah?”
Hermione’s lips are slightly pursed, as if she knows something Harry does not. “Give us a call if you need anything,” is all she says, though.
Fred pats Harry on the shoulder cheerfully. “If you get a chance, would you try and get a dragon scale for me? I’m testing some new products.”
Ginny elbows her brother. “Fred, how many times has Charlie told you that’s not legal?” She turns to Harry and gives him a one-armed hug. “Lovely to see you, Harry. You’ll have to tell us all about the dragons when you get back.”
“He’s going to investigate a murder case, not to tour the premises,” Ron tells her, rolling his eyes.
“Well, it’s not like he’s blind Ron, honestly, it’s still an experience .”
“Eat this quickly,” Molly tells him, shoving a plate of hot food into his hands. “Romania is two hours ahead, it’ll be dark by the time you get there.”
Harry’s stomach grumbles.
After finishing his casserole and giving all the Weasleys another round of hugs, Harry heads off to the Ministry and meets Creevey at the Portkey Desk.
“Ready?” She grins at him, brimming with excitement. Harry wishes he could match her energy.
Their portkey ends up being a pair of broken glasses that kind of remind Harry of Percy Weasley. He feels like the fact that they’re broken seems like a bad omen for this mission, but tries to ignore the uneasiness he’s experiencing.