Harry looks harder.
Malfoy left Eeylops, the original detective noted. No other witnesses. There's an interview with Malfoy's wife, Astoria Greengrass, who reported Malfoy missing after he didn't return home for the night. Typical interview, Harry thinks, reading the transcript. Astoria appeared 'in a state of distress' and proved to be of little use. Nevertheless, he reads it again and again. Visits the pensieve again and again until he has it memorised, until he knows the script by heart.
"How may I help you?"
"I am in need of an owl. Speed is less important than accuracy."
The shopkeeper, playing his role as a typical post-war man meeting a post-war Death Eater. Clipped words and stiff body language that says I know who you are, but I'm too civil to point it out.
Draco Malfoy, playing his role too. Can't appear too brash or demanding, Harry thinks, watching Malfoy for the tenth time as he reaches for an owl. Must show just the right amount of deference; it's there in the polite neutrality of his voice, in the way he keeps his body language small and contained. Not drawing attention, not making bold or sweeping gestures. I know who I am too, and I'm tired of people pointing it out.
He watches the memory again. Eleven times in total, and it's going nowhere. This is the hardest part of solving cases, Harry thinks. Getting started. Looking for something, but nobody knows what it is. It's like trying to find a book without knowing the title or author.
Books...
Hermione.
He decides to visit her tomorrow night.
"You want my help?" Hermione knows as soon as she sees him standing in her fireplace. Ron's away on an overnight stakeout; nevertheless, dinner is cooking over the kitchen hearth and Harry knows he's invited to stay without a word from Hermione.
"You're the smartest witch I know."
"Don't start," she laughs. "I hear that all the time from Ron when he needs help tracing a Dark artefact or potion."
Harry gives her a wry smile and steps into the room, setting the file down on the kitchen table. He may as well get to the point, he thinks. They know each other too well to spend time dancing about a topic.
"Draco Malfoy."
Hermione starts. "What? You saw him?"
"I didn't. That's the problem."
Her brow creases, if only for a moment. Then she glances at the file and remembers. "Oh, Harry," she says, looking exasperated. "They didn't assign you that file, surely?"
He nods and pulls out a chair, sitting down.
"Oh, honestly." Hermione sighs. "You'd think they'd have a bit more sense. Well, if you ask Holdsworth for a file transfer, I'm sure — "
"I can be objective, you know," Harry says, faintly annoyed. "This is my job, after all. Solving cases."
Hermione looks at him, raises her eyebrows, and then turns round to busy herself with the kettle.
"Tea?"
"You don't believe me."
"Yes, I do. Tea?"
"Yes, thanks," Harry says warily. "Listen, Hermione — "
"I said I believed you, didn't I? Now, what do you need help with?" She puts a teaspoon of sugar into a mug and turns around, glancing at him. Defeated, he lets her look through the file. She scans it, looking increasingly surprised as she reads on.
YOU ARE READING
Running On Air
Fiksi PenggemarThis is not mine and if the original Author tells me to take it down I will. This is by eleventy7 on fan fiction.net. Please have respect for this author's genius and enjoy the story😊 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "You have to find me, Potte...