Suspect
He got the call to the Ministry just as he’d tugged Teddy’s shirt onto him to take him to Willow Buds. Ron’s patronus glided into his flat, leaving Teddy fascinated with awe at the blue-glowing, floating, speaking dog (no doubt in a voice he recogized). Harry sighed, leaving Teddy to eat some biscuits while he changed into his auror uniform. Then, he went to drop Teddy off at Willow Buds.
Being in his full crime-fighting Auror regalia earned him more looks and whispers than usual. As he entered the yellow-cream-coloured building, one woman even approached him.
“Harry Potter?” She looked him up and down. “You have a son? At Willow Buds?”
Before Harry could even think about how to respond, Hannah opened the door to the waiting room of the center, looking tired, and more than a bit pale. She blinked, all professionalism clicking into place instantly.
“Good morning, Teddy!” she said with a smile. “How are you? Come, let’s have a great day.” She held her hand out to Teddy, who went to her obediently. Harry stepped forward, handing Hannah the backpack.
“Hey,” he greeted. “Are you alright?”
“Oh, all good,” she assured. “Just a bad night’s sleep. I’m sure you understand.”
“Yeah,” he responded. Because he did understand, and he was startled to realize he hadn’t thought that everyone else who had gone through the war clearly still struggled with some things. “Okay.”
“How was your first evening with Teddy?”
“It was alright,” he surmised. He figured his own lack of remembering what foods he eats didn’t need too much of a mention. “He’s a good kid.”
“Nothing unusual? He was in a new place,” Hannah pressed gently.
“Well, I’m not really sure what is or isn’t unusual,” he said honestly. Just then, another parent and his child walked through the door with a gasp.
“Aurors? Is everything alright?” He cut in. Harry backed away from the situation. “I’ve got to be off to work, Hannah. Thank you, for everything. I’ll see you around.”
Harry turned and left her to placate the now alarmed father. “He’s simply dropping of my client. No need for alarm,” he hear her voice as he left. He spared one last glance at Teddy, whose hair was yet again a spitting image of his own. His lips tugged themselves up into a small smile automatically.
As soon as he arrived at the Ministry, it was Hermione who met him with an “I’m not supposed to know this, but George has been hospitalized. Meet Ron at St. Mungo’s.”
“Herm- what?!”
“Just go, you’ll get told there. I didn’t tell you this, Ron did… except he didn’t have time to- He was here earlier… Just- I need to get back to my own work. Go!”
Mind racing, Harry used the nearest floo to appear at St. Mungo’s. A mediwitch at the front desk took one look and said “You must be here for the case. Your colleagues are on the fourth floor, temporarily. We’ve warded off an entire section of the floor for now.”
Harry raced up the stairs, taking steps two at a time. He opened the door to the Janus Thickey ward to see Molly, Aurthur, Ginny, who’s hair was half-singed, and Percy, who was bandaged around the chest, and looking only a bit worse for wear. He approached them instantly.
“Molly, Arthur, Gin, Percy… What happened?”
“Oh Harry,” began Molly, and it was then that he realized she looked as though she’d been crying. “So good to see you. Ron is in there,” she pointed to a room. “And George is in there, with your other partner, Auror Berrycloth.”
He hugged Molly. “What happened, Molly?”
“George went off his rocker,” Ginny began, earning a smack on the arm from her mother, who then hiccupped, a fresh bout of tears overtaking her.
“Don’t say that, Ginevra!”
“It’s the truth, mum!” Ginny shot back, her face full of indignation.
Percy sat up straighter with a small wince, his hand hovering over his chest.
“We got in an argument, George and I… about your murders. George ended up starting a fight with me. Ginny tried to step in, but… Anyway, Mum convinced The Ministry to have him sent here instead of taken into the Auror offices, says he’s not right in the head.”
“And why was he taken to the ministry?” It sounded like a stupid question, but still valid, in Harry’s mind. While never to this degree, the Weasleys fought, like any other family. Something else must’ve happened to make things fall they way they did. He could hear molly sniffling aggressively, muffled by Authur’s body as she leaned into him.
“That was me,” answered Percy. He… said some things… I already told Ron and Berrycloth… Do I have to tell you, too?” he began.
“I would appreciate it, Perce.”
Percy sighed, scrubbing a hanad across his face. “ I overheard him muttering to himself. He said that Rookwood would do well with a dose of Nightshade… I heard more, like that he wished Malfoy would get found again, that he wished he could get you to spill his location with the use of veritaserum…” Percy appeared haunted. “It honest to God sounded like… like he was actually planning these things. Like he…” Percy’s skin took on a greenish tint. “I tried to talk to him, I tried to ask him what was going on, and he just… snapped. He was enraged. Ginny heard the commotion. She was over for a cuppa. She tried to help… I called Ron, and told him he needed to make an arrest, to bring his team. And I-I know it’s tough… being our brother. But… I was terrified, Ginny’s hair was on fire, I was in so much pain from what he’d blasted me with that I could hardly move.”
Harry’s mind was racing a mile a minute. “Thanks, Perce. I’m glad you’re okay,” he finally said. He needed to talk to Ron. And now, they needed to go over the serious possibility that George was God’s Wrath.
It was making him feel sick. He knew that he’d suspecetd it, and he and Ron had argued, and he didn’t like thinking it was someone so close to him, but it needed to be considered, now. He’d hurt his famly… George. It was a foreign idea, and Harry was struggling with it himself.
He approached the door on the left, knocking. A second later, Ron opened the door.
He looked terrible.
His eyes were rimmed red, and he had a haunted, hollow look to him. He had the same expression that Harry had seen on Percy, and in that moment, Harry saw how closely they were related in a way he hadn't previously noticed, not including the flame-red hair that everyone in the family sported.
"Hey, 'Mione sent you word? Don't let the rest of the department know."
"I figured... George?"
Ron gestured to his right. Harry walked further into the room, seeing the wall was charmed with the ability to peer into the next room, where Mordecai was sitting across from George, who was in St. Mungo's patient dressings.
"I'm not allowed to ask him the questions we need to, since he's family, so Mordecai is doing it. George hasn't spoken in a few minutes, though.
Harry glanced towards George. His head was bent, and he was tapping his fingers against his leg.
"How is he?"
Ron shrugged. "You'll hear the full report from Mordecai in a minute, I'm sure."
The room grew uncomfortably silent. Ron continued to watch as Mordecai and George regarded each other silently.
"...How are you?"
Ron didn't answer for a moment. Harry watcehd as he worked his jaw, his face set with trained neutrality.
"Stressed."
Harry gave a single nod, wondering if Ron might elaborate on that. However, Mordecai's voice rang through the chamber, and Harry realized his stare-off with George had ended.
"I'm going to ask again: if we launch an investigation, will we find evidence of you planning to kill or otherwise harm anybody?"
George remained silent, looking away from Mordecai. George's face was gaunt and sickly, his expression far off. Harry shifted and, for half a moment, could have sworn George looked right at him, though he knew it was impossible for him to know he was even there. He rolled his shoulders.
“Will we find evidence suggesting you have harmed or killed anybody in the recent past?”
Again, silence.
"He's not going to talk," Ron concluded.
"We have to keep him in custody. For our investigation. He's too big of a person to just ignore. It'll blow up in our faces if we don't handle it properly," Harry argued.
"He's been hospitalised, Harry."
The two regarded each other, then, and Ron looked rather frighteningly like he'd aged several years in a few moments.
Ron puffed out an exasperated sigh, running a hand through his hair, turning away from Harry.
"Just look at him! You mean to tell me that that- that... husk of a person, that has killed, and continues to kill so many people?"
"He hurt two of your siblings, Ron,"
"They fought! It's not like he set out to hurt them, Harry... Nevermind. I can't talk to you about this. Not right now.”
Harry watched his best friend turn back to the wall, peering in.
"I'm not saying we're going to exclude the possibility that he... I just really don't think it is him." In that moment, Ron wore an expression not unlike his brother in the next room, unlike him, however, Harry could see the gears turning in Ron's mind, working overtime. Finally, after several long and stretched moments, Ron spoke again, more softly, this time. "He's not well, Harry. And I think... Sometimes I fear that I'm going to get a call and hear that he... Just couldn't stand to be apart from Fred anymore."
Harry only barely heard it in his voice, but he could plainly see the way his eyes got redder, the way his cheeks flushed, and the way his breathing became more effortful.
Mordecai opened the door, then, and Harry whipped his head to him, then back at the charmed glass, where he saw George being escorted out by mediwitches.
"He's going to spend the next 2 nights here, for observation. We're going to have to submit an order to the Wizengamot if we are to gain access to his records. Well, you two heard the conversation. What do you think?"
Harry remained silent, having heard only the tail end of his conversation with George. He turned to Ron, who gave a world-weary sigh.
"There had got to be something against me making this sort of decision."
"Probably," Mordecai said. Then "Harry? How much did you miss?"
"All of it," he confessed.
Mordecai paused, regarding Harry and Ron. "I'm going to have to take the lead on the case now, aren't I, given you're both too close to George, and he's officially a suspect."
Harry's lips pressed into a thin line, and Ron's nostrils flared.
"Probably, mate."
"I think I'm going to get John helping me out too. I have a feeling that Robards is going to want us to try that, to keep from needing to kick you two off the case since you're just about the best Aurors in the department at the moment."
When Ron was head of the case, Harry didn't mind it because they were best mates, and practically brothers, and he knew that even the smallest thing would get relayed. He could stay on top of information the second it came in, even before it reached the rest of his team.
But now, with Mordecai taking it... Harry knew it was necessary, and he didn't think Mordecai would hide anything, per se, but it was simply less convenient, and would, in turn, lessen his chances of bringing Draco's attacker to justice-
Not just Draco. No. It was a multitude of individuals. It was Pansy Parkinson, and Gregory Goyle, and Theodore Nott, former Hogwarts students who ought to be Harry's age, instead of dead due to a mere association...
Harry hoped that Neither he nor Ron were kicked from the case because of George's declaration as a suspect.
Harry especially hoped that Robards wouldn't find any other reasons for Harry in particular to get kicked from the case.
“Oh, Harry,”
He turned towards Ron, at the call, “Yeah?”
“Malfoy’s case just got more complicated. Mordecai dug up details on his father's death."