Blood Vengeance

Chapter 6

Harry was rudely awoken by his alarm clock charm. Five hours was enough. He showered, shaved and Apparated straight to the ward to check on Terry and Malfoy. Narcissa wasn't there yet, so he left Terry there and to the Ministry. He ducked past Proudfoot, complaining openly about him to the other senior Aurors, and managed to slip into the work area they had for the case. Proudfoot never came there.

Mike was still there, now drinking a firewhiskey. Transcribed on parchment on the desk in front of a Pensive was the image he pulled from Malfoy's memory. 

"Didn't think you'd sleep long. Figured I'd wait," he muttered, with a slight slur. He finished his drink. "I'm not watching anymore. This is what I got." Mike handed the picture shakily to him. 

DEK was the basic nondescript young adult: 17-22, pale, average height/weight, brown hair, brown eyes, and no facial marks, piercings or jewelry. Black robes, no labels. Harry looked at Corner concerned. "This is good, Mike. Thank you. I'm sorry... I know memories can be... intense."

"Yeah... you were right... about DEK. He was interrogating Malfoy, asking... "Where are there Death Eaters? How many of you were there? Who helped you? How do I get past your mother's wards?" nonstop, Harry. And Malfoy didn't answer him at all... that I could see. But Harry, this is one sick twisted fuck. He immobilized him when he pounded the stakes in... by hand... and laughed at Malfoy's muffled screams. It was... there aren't words."

"I'm sorry, Mike. You were only supposed to do the identification. You didn't have to...."

"Maybe I did need to see. Just seeing how a psychopath works... but Harr, this guy ain't stopping for nothing."

"I know."

"We got to get more of a priority on it. I don't care if it's just Death Eaters... he's an absolute lunatic," Mike said, waving his hands dramatically. He wasn't usually a drinker, but he was already punched out and needed something to anesthetize his brain.

Harry nodded. "I was planning on talking to Robards."

"I hope with some restraint, Harry."

"I make no promises. You get any hits on the pic, yet?" Harry asked, holding it up.

"Nothing, Harry. I don't recognize him at all from our vague list of suspects."

"Neither do I. Terry is still at the hospital, and Ron will be in soon. Can you wait for another 30?"

"Sure. Hence the firewhiskey. I don't have to worry about Proudfoot. He refuses to come back here. I put the memory in the safe for you."

"Thanks, Mike," Harry said and made a copy of the photo. He walked back toward the front, where Proudfoot had been.

"POTTER! Where the bloody hell have you been you fucking wanker?" the blowhard growled.

"Working. I just got off a 58-hour shift. I'm going to enjoy that overtime."

"What are you talking about? You're only getting paid for one day, Potter," he sneered, and the other meatheads nodded and muttered about up-jumped kids.

"You ordered me to stay "until that fucking Death Eater gives it up". Isn't that what you said?"

"You're taking my words out of context!" he snarled.

"Really? You never sent anyone to check on me or replace me!" he spat. "Whatever, Proudfoot. I'm going to see Robards."

"Good! He'll set you straight, you whiny little bitch. You're the one who fucked up that DEK pursuit. It's your fault if anyone else dies!"

"It's been your fuck-up since day one, Proudfoot. You've made absolutely no headway. I actually found the git, and you were here... talking shit."

Proudfoot stood up and puffed out his chest as he got in Harry's face. "You talk a lot of crap for someone who's about to get canned, asshole."

"That'll be the day. You won't have anyone to blame for your laziness and incompetence. You haven't even asked me what Malfoy said. Nitwit."

Proudfoot straightened up. "Tell me, you sod."

Harry glared at the dig. "I don't think so. You got to work for your case."

"You obnoxious lit' ponce, you're off the case! And if Robards doesn't kick you out, I'll go to...."

"Who? Hopkirk? Kingsley? I'm still the fucking Chosen One, and since you won't let me forget it, I might as well embrace it."

Proudfoot looked ready to explode. Williamson and Dawlish were giving him equal looks of loathing, but Savage was just sipping her tea and gave him a wink.

"Your... war hero getup won't save you this time!"

"We'll see. But please go back to talking about the good ol' days when you could take filthy mudblood queers like me out back and beat the fuck outta me."

"Get the fuck out of my office!" Proudfoot roared.

"Gladly. I'd watch that beer gut of yours, too, jerkoff. Soon Madam Maukin will have to draw you up bigger robes."

Proudfoot chucked his empty cup at him, and Harry disappeared into the labyrinth of offices until he found Robards' office. Harry sighed and knocked. He tried to think about what Mike had said... about laying out his case, but he was never a smooth talker. He was a fight anything-and-everything kind of guy.

"Come in," grunted the old Auror.

Harry slowly pushed open the door. Robards' eyes narrowed on him when he saw him. That wasn't good. He had never warmed to him, but he wasn't completely like the others either. He was a political animal. He was shrewd and not necessarily lazy, but not precisely johnny-on-the-spot, either. He cared about one thing, himself. Fuck, Harry wanted to rid the Auror department of the swine that held it back so much.

"Sit down, Potter."

Harry complied. Yelling and posturing wouldn't work on Robards. He had the power to back up his plays. The senior Aurors had none.

"Well? Care to explain yourself?" he spat, venomously.

Harry grimaced.

"Your lead wants you before the inquiry board. Failure to adhere to Auror guidelines, unacceptable negligence resulting in a suspect getting away and complete disregard for procedure. Well? What do you have to say for yourself?"

"They're just guidelines," he muttered.

"Oh? The famous Potter doesn't need to follow the rules? That was always what marked you down... since the beginning."

"I don't intentionally break them. Malfoy's life was at risk. Another minute or two, and he'd be dead, Sir!"

"Not exactly a loss," Robards grunted.

Harry glared at him.

Robards put his hands up. "Fine. You saved him. Nevermind that you put yourself in danger or that you could have led you or your friends into a trap! I don't need this aggravation, Potter. The senior Aurors are calling for your head! Hopkirk isn't one of your fans, and quite frankly, you would have been gone long before this, if you weren't... you."

Harry lifted his head, but didn't let out his absolute rage. "I've never botched up anything until this. I've solved every case I've worked, while my lead takes the credit. I know that you know how lazy those fuckers are. I never said anything about the lack of credit, because I figured I would have to earn my place. What else can I do to prove that I'm an excellent Auror to you? Suck up to those lickspittles? 

"Sir, I work, and I work hard. I find shit that no one else sees. I train my team and have to suffer through the incompetent decisions of my lead. I've never mishandled a case, this incident not included. Why don't you trust me, yet? The only slack you are getting is the other senior others complaining about my lack of respect to them."

"And you think that it isn't important? You have to be able to work with your colleagues, Potter!"

"I can. When they treat me with respect back. I don't owe them anything because they're been here longer!" he hissed.

"Really don't need us old farts, is that it?"

"It's not that. I just want to be treated like a human fucking being for once. I'm not a rookie anymore. I'm not a lazy slacker like the others. I work, and I will do it right. Can you say that about your old-timers that want me gone so bad? Part of me thinks that's what it is. I don't let them drag their feet."

"Potter, just because they're here, doesn't mean that they aren't working."

"Sir... with all due respect... that's hogwash. Proudfoot has been on this case for six months. How many times as he left the office? How many suspects as he questioned? How many times as he requested archives pulled or did a home visit?" Harry pressed and could see the older Auror's eyebrows raise. 

"I can. I can also tell you that he hasn't done jack-squat for the investigation. I sent out the warning letters and put the memo out to let me know immediately of any missing persons. I'm the one who investigated each crime scene and talked to their families. I found every victim that was reported missing, unfortunately dead. This was the first one where there was a chance he was alive and after ten bodies... it's why I broke protocol. I cared. I care about doing the job right and the lives that are lost.

"Sir, you are right. I'm abrasive and obnoxious, but I know what I'm doing. Please just give me a chance. Please give me the case. No more babysitters holding me back and talking bad to me, and I swear I will catch him."

"You've messed up the case already by letting DEK go, Potter," he grunted.

"Maybe. But I also know what his Apparation stream feels like, what his voice is like and what he looks like. Sir, Malfoy gave me his memory of it. We have a picture and we know who and what he looking for. I'm the one who stayed with him for the last three days. I talked to him, and he gave us a huge piece of evidence."

"You were with him for three days?"

"Almost. Proudfoot ordered me to stay at the hospital until he was awake."

"Did he?" Robards snorted.

"Sir... I know it's appealing to fire me, but let's be real. I'm the reason why your numbers are up. I'm solving your cold cases. Do you think the others are just going to pick up the slack?"

Robards straightened up, and his eyes narrowed. He understood the subtle threat to his position and knew that Harry was right. "Listen here, Potter. This is your one and only chance. You muck this up, and you're back to a desk for six months while the inquiry board investigates. You catch the bloke, and you're off your leash, got it?"

"That's all I ever wanted, Sir. I won't let you down."

"We'll see. You're certainly turning me gray. Now, leave the other Aurors alone. They're just baiting you for being... you."

"Queer? But I manage them just fine."

Robards sighed. "You got a lead?"

"This is all we got," Harry said, handing him the copy of the photo. Nothing in our files, so far.

"Whoa, he's young. Well, get on it. Don't fuck it up, Potter."

"I won't, Sir," he promised.