With you in my Arms

74. "She's my wife."

Dearest Readers!

Here now the latest installment of the story. All of you who commented, I enjoyed every single one of the comments. THANKS!

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Kingsley Shaklebolt sat in his office seriously starting to contemplate, if it wouldn't be better to hand in his notice. When he had been accepting the post of Minister for Magic he had never expected it to turn into this kind of perpetual nightmare. For the past six and a half months he had been dealing with the evil schemes of one wizard. One wizard! He didn't even want to think about the rumours that were making the rounds in the Ministry at the moment about a fight in the Auror Office. Though, he knew that he would have Henri Shaw right here in front of him any minute now, if there was any truth in it.

There was a knock on the door. He groaned.

"Come in."

Too much had happened as that he was surprised to see the Head of the Auror Office entering the room. The tall man looked a bit rattled.

"Do you want the good news or the bad news, Kingsley?"

'Oh-oh!'

"Lets start with the bad news, shall we?"

"The rumours are true. There was a fight in the reception area of the Auror Office. Longbottom got hit by a Petrificus Totalus, he's fine. Potter was buried under him as he fell and has only a minor concussion. He's in St. Mungo's. Hermione Granger..."

"She was there as well?" Kingsley interjected.

"Yeap."

How did that girl manage to find any duel, fight and skirmish for miles around without fail?

"Go on."

"She's... unhurt. At least bodily there's nothing wrong with her. We had the healers in St. Mungo's check her over. She's just beside herself because of what happened to young Malfoy."

The Minister groaned. He hoped against hope that the rising suspicion that was trying to push itself forward in his mind wasn't turning out to be true.

"Draco Malfoy is in St. Mungo's, too."

"Yes?"

"Well, let me put it this way, his kid might be born with a large fortune waiting for it."

The head of the man at the top of the British wizarding community sank into his hands. He was going to resign.

"Kingsley."

"Yes?"

"The good news is that I found our fugitive."

"Oh?"

"He somehow managed to impersonate our receptionist. He attacked them when nobody would have been suspecting to be attacked."

They shared a moment of silent contemplation.

"He's in Azkaban?"

"He's dead."

"Just as well."

A lost life was never to be taken lightly, not even the one of some deranged nut case as this guy had seemingly been. But there was always a story behind that life. It might have been sad or repulsive or whatever else. Somewhere out there somebody might be hoping for his return.

"Do we have any idea who he was?"

"He had a Muggle passport on him. The Muggle Liaison Office is trying to find any next of kin. I've contacted their French counterpart and requested assistance. Dawlish has left for France twenty minutes ago. I want him to find out, where that lad exactly came from."

"What do you think this was all about? And where's your receptionist?"

"I have Peters working on that."

Kingsley drew the bottom drawer of his desk open and took two glasses and a bottle of Firewhiskey out.

"This is becoming a bad habit, Kingsley."

"I know, Henri."

He held the bottle up so that the other man could read the label.

"Alcohol free?"

"Otherwise I wouldn't be able to do my job any longer. Maybe I'm getting old or the war has taken more out off me than I want to admit, but for the past six months we have been trying to fix what this evil bastard has set in motion. How sick do you have to be to do this to your spouse and son?"

"Very sick."

They drank in silence.

"Is there any chance that this latest attack has anything to do with dear Lucius as well?" the Minister asked with a heavy sigh.

"That's why I have sent Dawlish to France. I've the funny feeling that it has. I can't say who the intended victim was, but I know that I would love to get rid off that bastard once and for all."

"You and me both."