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the-al-chemist · 2 years

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Artemis Hexley and the Return to the Riddles

Chapter 3: Shacklebolt and Shiratori

A/N: Artemis learns a little more about her past and the Cabal, and helps the Aurors in their investigation. Warnings: references to hypochondria, lore drop, mentions of death and war, gratuitous references to the 2007 cult classic Hot Fuzz. Disclaimer: For legal reasons, I should probably point out that all original characters, however minor, are figments of my own imagination and any resemblance they have to real people is purely coincidental. More specifically, I have definitely not based any of the characters in this chapter on any clients from my workplace.

“Long time, no see,” said Kingsley Shacklebolt, in that strangely familiar reverberating voice.

Artemis blinked, scarcely able to believe that she was not dreaming.

“Reggie?” she said, her own voice a hushed whisper, and the wizard who looked and sounded like her old friend inclined his head.

“Yes and no,” he replied. “It’s good to see you again, Tiny. And even better to meet you as myself, after all this time.”

“But… I… What?”

“Sit down, Hexley,” said the gruff voice of Mad-Eye Moody, and Artemis found herself being pushed down into a chair. “You’ll want to listen to this.”

Kingsley smiled at Artemis again, and pointed his wand at the wall of the cubicle. “Muffliato.”

He sheathed his wand into a belt around his waist and sat down opposite Artemis, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees so that his face was almost level with hers.

“You’re surprised to see me here. I understand why,” he said. “After all, the last time we saw each other, I was living on a boat, and - as far as you were concerned - I was a Muggle.”

“You’re not a Muggle, then?” asked Artemis, even though she had just seen Reggie - Kingsley - perform magic with her own eyes.

“I’m not, no. However, sometimes Auror fieldwork involves a degree of disguising oneself. Or, two and a half years of disguising oneself, in this case.”

“Why?”

“When your brother went missing, the war had just ended. There were still Death Eaters walking free, and we were doing everything we could to round them up. At first, we suspected that Jacob Hexley had disappeared in relation to this, that he had been recruited into the Death Eater ranks and-”

“No,” Artemis shook her head emphatically. “No, that’s not true. Jacob was never a Death Eater.”

“He was not, but his timing was suspicious. Not to mention that he had been expelled in the wake of a fellow student’s death, and he had lost his father not long before. A bright and powerful young wizard cast adrift like that… Well, you can see why he might be the sort to have turned to a group of people offering him a sense of purpose, of belonging to something,” Kingsley raised his eyebrows, and Artemis exhaled heavily. Kingsley was right; she could see why - from the outside, at least - Jacob may well have appeared to be a Death Eater. “It was only when we began to look into the circumstances surrounding his expulsion that we realised that your brother had already found a sense of purpose and belonging that had nothing to do with the Death Eaters at all.”

“The Cursed Vaults, you mean?”

“The Cursed Vaults, the Cabal, Rakepick, all of it. It seemed then - and it still seems now - that the more we’ve uncovered, the more questions we end up asking ourselves. There have been and still are so many secrets and riddles, and even more dead ends.”

“So, what do you actually know?” Artemis said, her eyebrows knitting together. “About my brother and the Cabal? About R? And why were you living on a boat outside my house for two years?”

Kingsley laughed, not unkindly.

“All very good questions, Tiny. Let’s start with the easy one: I lived outside your house because there was a concern for your safety,” he said, straightening up a little. “During our investigations we were made aware that the Cabal - R, as you call them - might make an attempt to-”

“Kill me?”

“Kidnap you,” Kingsley corrected Artemis with a shake of his head. “Our source made it clear that whilst the Cabal are dangerous, they would not have harmed you physically.” He must have noticed the confused look on Artemis’ face, because before she could ask him who this source was, he continued, “Professor Dumbledore believed that R would be far more likely to use you in order to try and get into the Cursed Vaults, as that is their ultimate goal. According to him, you have a natural ability that meant that you might be of use to them, in that regard.”

“Yeah, I’m a Legilimens. Rakepick had me open the fourth Cursed Vault because of that,” Artemis nodded. “Did they ever do it? Try to kidnap me, I mean.”

Artemis was almost disappointed when Kingsley shook his head again.

“No, never,” he said. “When you left for Hogwarts, I’d been monitoring the house for over two year. There was no sign of your brother, all leads towards the Cabal had disappeared, and no attempt had been made to kidnap you. It was decided that the case would be dropped.”

“So you left.”

“So I left.”

“And you never told me anything,” Artemis said indignantly. “You just let me believe that you were my friend, and all this time you were just there because you had to be.”

Kingsley’s response was simple. “No.”

“Actually, yes. You were only pretending to be my friend because it was your job.”

“My job was to monitor the house, not to befriend you,” Kingsley told her in his still-calm voice. “I’d say that I did that out of my own volition, but that isn’t entirely true. You know, you were very stubborn for someone so small.”

Artemis was still stubborn.

“Well, you should have told me who you really were, and not kept this great big bloody secret from me the whole time,” she said, crossing her arms across her chest and glaring at Kingsley.

“I couldn’t do that, Tiny.”

“Yeah, you could.”

“You were only a child.”

“So? I would’ve kept it a secret.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Kingsley sighed deeply. “You were so young. How could anyone tell you about the danger you were in? You were eight years old, the country had been at war since you were born, your father had died, your brother was missing. Telling you would have taken away what little security you had left.”

The look in Kingsley’s eyes was earnest. Artemis narrowed her eyes at him and tilted her head.

“Someone else decided that, didn’t they?” she said. “Someone else told you not to tell me for my own good.”

“They did.”

“Who?”

“Your mother,” said Kingsley, and Artemis’ mouth dropped open a little. “And she was right.” He raised his eyebrows at Moody as he added, “Even if she hadn’t been, I’m not sure I’d have wanted to argue with her, not with the number of duelling competitions she won back in her day.”

“If my mother was so worried about me, she could have just taken me away somewhere safe. Gone back to America or something.”

“No, she couldn’t,” Moody spoke from behind Artemis, and she turned in her seat to see him swigging from a hip flask. “She tried, but she wasn’t allowed to move out of the house.”

“Why not?”

“There was a peculiarity in your father’s will. He left… What were the words? Aye. ‘All his earthly possessions and his position as the head of his house to be solely inherited by his surviving issue’.”

“What does that mean?”

“Means that you and your brother got everything, including the control of the household. And until you were of age, your brother had full control of you, too. Your mother couldn’t take you out of the country without Jacob’s permission to do so, and with him missing, he wasn’t in a position where he was able to give it, was he?” Moody took another swig of his flask. “Typical of Leander Hexley. Always had to use the clever way to phrase things, rather than talking straight to the point. Made a point of bloody overcomplicating things.”

“I wouldn’t know. I was so young when he died, I don’t really remember him,” Artemis shrugged, and turned back to Kingsley. “So, R just stopped caring?”

“I wouldn’t say that exactly, but we didn’t have any leads about them for a few years,” he replied. “Not until the year after you left for school. We became aware during our first investigation that an individual named Loken Burke had been a part of the Cabal, but he disappeared around the same time as your brother did. Suddenly, his name started cropping up again, but even after all these years, finding him has proved… difficult.”

“How come?”

“Burke is a Metamorphmagus. He can change his appearance at will, much like your friend Tonks.”

As if on cue, there was a loud clatter from outside the cubicle, as if a filing cabinet had been knocked over. Artemis and the two Aurors looked up in the direction of the din, and Moody took another swig from his hip flask before skulking away, leaving Artemis alone with Kingsley Shacklebolt.

She frowned as she looked him up and down once more. The man she had known as Reggie had once been her closest - her only - friend. At one point, she had even wished desperately that he might be her father. And over the years since she had last seen him, she had imagined meeting him again several times, but she had never imagined that it would be like this. She had never thought that Reggie might be anyone other than who she had believed him to be, but here was the proof that she had been wrong. Reggie the Muggle was not Reggie the Muggle at all. He was Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Auror. The stranger. And yet, though he was a stranger, he still felt so familiar to her. It was a peculiar feeling, and she wasn’t sure that she liked it.

“Why bother telling me all this now?” she asked him. “Why not before, when you first thought that R was becoming active again?”

“I wasn’t allowed,” said Kingsley, and though he had cast a muffling charm on the cubicle, he lowered his voice. “But I did anyway.”

“What?”

“I sent you a letter. Anonymously, using my family’s house elf as a messenger. I told you to be careful, but-”

“Remain courageous,” Artemis’ eyebrows shot upwards. “Wait, that was you?”

“Don’t tell Moody.”

“I won’t. I told you, I am great at keeping secrets.”

“I’m sure you are, Tiny,” Kingsley chuckled, and he leaned forward again. “Perhaps you will make a good Auror, after all.”

“I don’t want to be an Auror. I’d just rather be here than in the Portkey Office, that’s all.”

“Well, maybe you’d like to be an Auror for the next couple of weeks. I could do with having an assistant,” Kingsley cocked an eyebrow at Artemis, and after a moment’s hesitation, she nodded. “Excellent. Have you gotten any better at making drinks since I last saw you? I don’t know about you, but I could do with a cup of tea.”

Artemis laughed as Kingsley conjured two mugs, and she laughed harder when she was outside the Auror office and a thought struck her.

She couldn’t wait to see the look on Madam Rosmerta’s face when she told her about her first day of work experience.

The rest of Artemis’ time at the Ministry of Magic was far more enjoyable than the first morning. By the following Thursday she was used to her new routine: meeting Charlie and Tonks at the Leaky Cauldron and travelling down to Whitehall, stopping to pick up coffee for Kingsley at the snack bar in the atrium before making her way up to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement ready for roll call, where the Aurors - and, by extension, Artemis and Tonks - would be allocated their tasks for the day, and accompanying Kingsley on his less dangerous calls.

“So, that just leaves Madam Wolfe’s complaint about the intruder in Marylebone,” said Moody, coming to the end of the list of the day’s tasks. “Shacklebolt, it’s your turn.”

Kingsley gave a soft groan, and Artemis frowned.

“What does he mean, it’s your turn?” she asked him, as the other Aurors either tittered or let out audible sighs of relief.

“Madam Hysteria Wolfe,” Kingsley said to Artemis, his voice low so as not to interrupt Moody. “She contacts us a few times a month. It’s always a waste of time, but we can’t ignore her.”

“If she’s wasting everyone’s time, I don’t see why not.”

“Because, Hexley,” said Moody, clearly having heard Artemis in spite of her efforts to lower her voice, “just because something has never amounted to anything before, that doesn’t mean that it will always amount to nothing.”

“Constant vigilance,” Tonks piped up. Moody looked at her, and she pointed at him and winked theatrically, causing him to roll both his magical and non-magical eyes.

Having been to Madam Wolfe’s house before, Kingsley was able to apparate directly to the bustling Marylebone street outside it. The house itself was small and somewhat dilapidated, and had several plants in pots floating in front of it, all of them in various stages of wilting.

“Don’t say anything unless she asks you a direct question,” Kingsley murmured as they heard footsteps approaching the front door. “And try and keep your answers to one word.”

Artemis shrugged. “Fine.”

The front door opened, and a skinny, middle-aged witch with thin blonde hair peered around the frame.

“Madam Wolfe, I think we’ve met before. I’m-”

“Auror Shacklebolt. Yes, I remember you from last time,” Madam Wolfe pulled the door open and beckoned Kingsley inside before turning away and walking down the corridor. She continued to talk in a fast mumble, not even looking at Kingsley as she spoke. “Yes, I think last time you came it was when the attic was rattling. You conjured a ladder and cast a spell, and told me that no one was there. I had to call again a few days later, because the attic was rattling again, but they told me that no one was there that time, either.”

“I understand that you’re concerned that you might have had an intruder this week, as well.”

“Yes, I’m very concerned. Incredibly concerned. You see, I was outside in the back garden two nights ago - it’s not really a garden, more like a courtyard, but I always call it a garden - and I was there last night, too. I always go out there in the evening, because I have cats and I like to make sure that they’re back inside and that they’ve not been stolen before I go to bed. Anyway, the night before last I was there and I thought that I heard a noise, a noise like this” - Madam Wolfe stopped suddenly and made a strange sound somewhere between a honk and a hiss - “and I thought, ‘well, that is very strange’, because none of my cats have ever made that noise before. But then, Miss Skimbles appeared over the wall-”

“Miss who?”

“Miss Skimbles. She’s my prize Ragdoll, she’s had her photograph in the Daily Prophet before. She’s beautiful, has these lovely blue eyes, more blue than any eyes you’ve ever seen before on a cat, but she is prone to catching colds, has been since the black cat flu epidemic of ‘83, so I assumed she had another cold. I had an appointment at St Mungo’s Hospital yesterday, and I asked Healer Buckthorn - she’s very good, still has time to see me even though she’s head Healer now - and she said that she was probably fine. I still wasn’t sure though, after all, what cat who is absolutely fine would make a noise like this?”

Madam Wolfe made the strange sound again. Artemis looked from the witch to Kingsley, whose face was passive and was nodding sympathetically, and stared at him in disbelief.

“Well, I got back from the hospital and I went about my day as usual, and then last night I was in the garden and I heard that noise again” - another demonstration - “and this time I knew it wasn’t Miss Skimbles, because she was tucked up in bed early. Well, I thought she had a cold, so I made sure she went to bed so that she would have some rest. So, I looked around the garden, and that’s when I saw him.”

“The intruder?”

“Yes, Auror Shacklebolt, the intruder. He was right there, plain as day, in my garden, sitting behind my bin.”

“I see,” Kingsley conjured a notebook and pencil. “Could you describe the intruder to me, Madam Wolfe?”

“Well, he was quite large, white, with very dark beady eyes,” said Madam Wolfe, and Kingsley began to write in the notebook. “He had wide, flat feet, and a rather long neck.” She paused, before adding, “Oh, and he was a swan.”

Kingsley stopped writing.

“A swan?”

“Yes, a swan,” Madam Wolfe nodded earnestly. Artemis took a step back from her. “Well? Don’t you think that’s highly suspicious? After all, we are nowhere near the Thames.”

Artemis opened her mouth to suggest that perhaps the swan had come from one of the nearby parks, but Kingsley silenced her with a look before she had the chance to speak.

“Maybe we could take a look at the swan,” Kingsley suggested. “It might have some distinguishing features, that we could-”

“But, you see, that’s the most suspicious thing about it. The swan was gone this morning! He’s not there anymore.”

“That might make this investigation difficult, Madam Wolfe.”

“So, what are you going to do? I’m sure you can see that this is all very concerning. Really, I’m at my wits’ end with it all.”

“I can see that, yes,” said Kingsley, in his slow, reassuring voice. He ripped a page out of his notebook and wrote something on it. “This is what I’m going to do. These are the details for Amos Diggory, a colleague of mine in the Department for the Control and Regulation of Magical Creatures. If the swan comes back, you can send him an owl, and he will sort it out for you.”

“And if it comes back by tomorrow,” Artemis said, disobeying Kingsley to take up an opportunity for mischief that was too good to miss, “you should definitely ask if Charlie Weasley can come with him to help. He’s great with swans.”

Having placated Madam Wolfe, Kingsley decided that he and Artemis had earned an early lunch break.

“Besides,” he added quietly, “I have someone I’d like to check in with.”

“A friend?”

“An informant. She’s an ex-Azkaban inmate, very good at getting information. Bit brusque, but very reliable.”

Artemis tilted her head. “Is her name Jane Court, by any chance?”

“Ah, so you know her.”

In an alleyway beside a Muggle café, Kingsley conjured a lynx patronus and spoke to it in a low voice. The patronus disappeared, and Kingsley took Artemis inside the café. Just as they started to eat, there was a loud crack from outside, as if a Muggle car had backfired, and Artemis’ old school prefect Jane Court walked into the café and straight over to the table where Artemis and Kingsley were sitting. At the sight of Artemis, she raised her blonde eyebrows slightly, but other than that, she showed no sign of surprise at her being there.

“What news, Jane?” Kingsley asked her, pushing a sandwich and cup of coffee towards her as she sat down. Jane ignored the sandwich, but picked up the coffee and took a large sip before answering .

“I’ve been keeping an ear out for news of Burke. There’s been nothing on him for over a week. He’s gone completely quiet.”

“That’s disquieting.”

“Not as disquieting as Fletcher three days ago.”

“What has old Mundungus been up to this time?”

“For once, it wasn’t him that was up to something,” Jane muttered darkly. “He was attacked in Knockturn Alley.”

“I wonder why that was.”

“He said the attack was completely unprovoked.”

Kingsley chuckled. “He always does.”

“Yes, but this time I believed him,” said Jane, her eyebrows knitting together. “I saw the end of it, and it was only when I drew more attention to what was going on that the attacker left, disapparated away. He didn’t seem too keen to attract more attention than necessary, and Fletcher said that it was only when he caught sight of the bloke’s face that he pulled his wand on him.”

“Interesting. Did you get a look at the wizard at all?”

“Fairly young, in his early thirties at most. Slim build, tall-ish. Cropped black hair, dark eyes, fair complexion considering that he was Asian. I’d say he was Japanese. And he was wearing white robes.”

Jane’s voice had a pointed tone to it, and though Kingsley’s face was calm, Artemis noticed his eyes widen fractionally.

“What?” she asked. “What’s wrong?”

“Mahoukatoro Wizarding School,” said Kingsley, his voice quiet. “Students who are expelled for practising dark magic have a spell placed upon their robes that causes them to turn white.”

“So?”

“The most recent student to be expelled from Mahoukatoro was eventually imprisoned” - Kingsley breathed through his nose - “in Japan.”

Artemis frowned. “You mean Shiratori, don’t you?”

Kingsley nodded slowly, and Jane crossed her arms in front of her chest.

“They call him the White Ghost,” she explained, “because it’s like he can walk through walls. No one knows how he got out of a Japanese prison cell. The security is supposed to be as tight as it is in Azkaban, and no one has ever managed to break out of Azkaban before. I don’t see how they could. And as for how he got all the way here, if that really was him Fletcher saw in Knockturn Alley…”

“Thank you, Jane.” Kingsley reached into his pocket and placed a handful of Muggle money on the table. “That was very helpful. Artemis, we need to get back to the Ministry.”

On the street outside, Kingsley held out his arm to Artemis, and no sooner had she taken it than he had Apparated the pair of them back to the atrium of the Ministry of Magic.

“What was the name of the wizard in charge of the Japanese ambassador’s Portkey?” Kingsley asked Artemis.

“Basil.”

“Wait here, I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Artemis watched Kingsley speed away to the elevators, and she wandered across the atrium to where she could just about make out the red haired head of Charlie Weasley leaning against the edge of the fountain.

“You look out of breath,” she told him as she approached him. “What’ve you been up to?”

“Chasing a Niffler,” he said, taking a bite of the homemade sandwich he held in his hands. “Madam Green in the Department of Mysteries asked us to get rid of it. It was trying to steal crystal balls and causing havoc.”

“How long did it take to catch it?”

“Didn’t,” Charlie shrugged. “The bloody thing ran out of the crystal ball room and we lost it in the space room. Barnaby and Liz are still there, I just got to go on lunch early because I have to go and help Mr Diggory deal with a lady in Marylebone who found a creature in her garden. How are things with the Aurors?”

“Good. Kingsley bought me a pasty.”

“You’ve been working hard, then.”

“We have been working, too. We are investigating something to do with that Japanese prisoner who escaped.”

“What to do with him?”

“Not sure, Kingsley went off to do… something. I’m not sure what,” Artemis craned her neck to look in the direction of the lifts, and saw Kingsley making his way back through the crowds towards her. “He’s back now. I’ll see you at the end of the day. Good luck catching that swan.”

“Swan?” Charlie’s nose wrinkled as he frowned. “What swan?”

Realising that she’d almost given the game away, Artemis gave Charlie a guileless-looking smile and sped away from him before he could ask any more questions.

“We have a lead to follow,” Kingsley said to Artemis, steering her towards one of the fireplaces that formed an exit from the atrium to the street above.

“What’s that?”

“Karasu’s Portkey.”

“I thought it got stolen.”

“Not that Portkey,” Kingsley shook his head. “The one he was meant to use for his return journey. Basil doesn’t know if the Japanese embassy cancelled it. We are going to see if it made its way back here without him, and if so, whether it transported anyone else here instead.”

“Shiratori?”

“Shiratori.”

The Portkey Tulip’s father was supposed to take back from Japan to England had been set up to transport him back to a quiet corner of Highgate Woods. Kingsley and Artemis spent the rest of the day traipsing through the woods with wands lit, searching for the Portkey. Eventually, Artemis found what they were looking for: an empty packet of Japanese sweets.

“Here, Kingsley!” she levitated the object so that Kingsley could see it more clearly, and as she did, noticed something white underneath it. “Wait, what’s that?”

Kingsley crouched down to examine the object, frowning as he did so.

“It’s a feather,” he said quietly. “A white feather.”

“Maybe it’s from Madam Wolfe’s swan,” said Artemis, grinning mischievously. Kingsley chuckled softly, but with less enthusiasm than usual. As he stopped laughing, his frown deepened.

“I wonder,” he murmured, and pointed his wand at the feather. “Reparifarge!”

The white feather disappeared, and in its place lay a scroll of parchment. Kingsley used his wand to levitate and unroll it, and Artemis stood on her tiptoes to read what it said. Unfortunately, she couldn’t understand a word, as the writing was in an unfamiliar script.

“I don’t recognise these runes,” she said, looking up at Kingsley, whose face was grim.

“This isn’t runic, Tiny. This is Japanese.”

“But, wouldn’t that mean that-”

“Shiratori is here.”

“So, if Shiratori arrived in England using the ambassador’s return Portkey from Japan…”

“Whoever stole the Portkey the ambassador was meant to take to Japan must be in league with Shiratori.”

Beside Artemis, Tonks put down her morning coffee and let out a low whistle.

“So, not a Niffler after all,” she said, and both Kingsley and Moody turned to look at her.

“It would appear not,” said Moody gruffly, and he turned his magical eye towards Artemis. “Hexley, you were in the Portkey office that day. What happened?”

“Well, I turned up in the morning. I didn’t know where I was meant to go, but Mr Cattermole helped me find my way. When I got to the Portkey office, Basil was sorting out the Portkey,” Artemis said, as Kingsley made notes in his conjured notebook. “I went and had lunch, and when I was back the ceiling started to rain. Everyone left the office, I went to get Mr Cattermole to fix it, and then Tulip’s dad - the Ambassador, I mean - came for the Portkey and it had gone.”

“Basil was certain that the Portkey was in the office when he left because of the ceiling malfunction,” muttered Moody. “I’d say that was a diversion to allow the thief access to the Portkey. Did you see anyone tampering with the ceiling, Hexley?”

“No, but it could’ve happened when I was at lunch or before I arrived.”

Moody made a gravelly humming noise, and Kingsley closed and vanished his notebook.

“I think it would be worth talking to magical maintenance,” he said, slowly and calmly. “See what would need to be done in order to cause the ceiling to rain like it did.”

“True. Get a memo to Cattermole. We can take a witness statement at the same time.”

A paper airplane was created and sent to to Magical Maintenance, and shortly before lunch, Reggie Cattermole appeared in the Auror office.

“You sent for me?” he asked, slowly sitting down as Kingsley gestured to an empty chair.

“We wanted to discuss with you what happened in the Portkey office last Monday,” Kingsley told Cattermole. “What you saw there in the day, and anything you might know about what might have caused the ceiling to malfunction in the office like it did.”

“What might cause the ceiling to rain, you mean? I don’t know. I’ve never seen anything quite like that before. Normally, any rain is limited to the windows. They’re charmed to give sunlight, but sometimes, when it rains above ground, it rains in the windows too. Not a problem as such, but I often get called out to stop that. People don’t like the noise whilst they’re trying to work, you see.”

“So, it isn’t normal for the ceilings to rain?”

“Not at all. You’d probably have to enchant the ceiling specially to do that. But why would anyone want their office to rain?”

“In order to clear it of personnel,” Moody growled. “In order to engage in foul play. See anything of the sort on your travels, Cattermole?”

“No, but then I only arrived after the ceiling had started raining.”

“What about earlier in the day?”

Cattermole frowned. “Earlier in the day?”

“Miss Hexley here says that you were in the Department that morning as well.”

“No,” Cattermole shook his head. “No, I wasn’t.”

“Yes, you were,” said Artemis. “You helped me find my way, remember?”

“You must have me mistaken for someone else. It happens a lot. I have one of those faces, and when you work in maintenance, most people just see the uniform.”

“I didn’t mistake you for anyone,” Artemis told him. “It was definitely you, I remembered you because you said your name was Reggie, and I had a friend - well, I guess I still do have a friend - called Reggie. Remember?”

But Cattermole shook his head again. “No one calls me Reggie. Just Reg.”

“So,” said Kingsley, his dark eyebrows slightly furrowed, “if you weren’t in the Department of Magical Transportation this morning, where were you?”

“I… Well, I…” Cattermole paused and scratched his head, looking more baffled than he did dishonest. “You know, I really don’t know.”

Artemis opened her mouth, but shut it again without speaking after Kingsley gave her a warning look.

“You don’t know where you were on Monday morning?”

“I was here. I was definitely at work, because I remember checking in, and going to my office, but after that… It’s strange, but I don’t remember anything after that. How bizarre.”

Kingsley and Moody shared glances, and Cattermole continued to look thoroughly confused.

“From what point in the day do you remember, Mr Cattermole?”

Cattermole frowned. “I suppose it must be around lunchtime. Yes, because I felt a little hungry, and thought that it must have been mid-morning, but when I looked at the clock, it was gone midday. I remember thinking that the morning had really flown by.”

“Thank you, Mr Cattermole,” Kingsley said with a small smile. “That will be all. We will let you know if we have any further questions.”

Four pairs of eyes followed Reg Cattermole as he left the Auror office. The door clicked shut behind him, and Moody and Kingsley turned to each other.

“Do you believe him?”

“I think I do,” said Kingsley, and he glanced at Artemis. “What about you, Tiny? You’re the mind reader here, after all.”

“I believed him,” Artemis told Kingsley. “What he said about not going to the Transport Department in the morning wasn’t true, but he wasn’t lying, either. He really didn’t remember being there.”

“Did he seem confused when you saw him that morning?” Kingsley asked, and Artemis shook her head. “Not confunded, then. Acting under the Imperius Curse, perhaps? With memory modification afterwards?”

“Could well be,” Moody took a swig from his hip flask. “Could also be that he was Stunned and an impostor took his place.”

“It might be worth searching the Maintenance Department. There may be Polyjuice traces on some of the surfaces.”

“There might. Or there might not.”

Moody’s two eyes - both magical and non-magical - drifted across to look at Tonks.

“Well, it wasn’t me!” Tonks scowled at him.

“Not you, no,” Kingsley said, his lips twitching briefly. He sighed and nodded slowly. “Burke.”

“The one you think is part of R? The Metamorphmagus?” Artemis frowned. “Why would he be wanting to help Shiratori?”

“Maybe he’s hoping that Shiratori will help him.”

“Help him with what?”

“Shiratori was held in prison. Shiratori has broken free,” Moody said as he unscrewed the lid of his hip flask again. “Perhaps R are hoping he can break others free, as well.”

Artemis gritted her teeth and nodded.

“Rakepick,” she said.

“Got it in one,” Moody muttered. He took another swig from his hip flask and stood up. “Better contact Azkaban, get them to increase her security. Tonks, come with me.”

Artemis and Kingsley were left alone again. Kingsley raised a questioning eyebrow and looked at Artemis with concern in his dark brown eyes.

“How are you doing?” he asked, and Artemis shrugged, not sure how to respond. “You’re a brave girl. A brave young woman, these days. Very few people would be able to face what you have faced with half as much courage as you have.”

“I dunno,” said Artemis. “I never really thought about it as being brave, just doing what felt like the right thing to do at the time.”

“Sometimes doing the right thing can be an act of bravery in itself.”

“Yeah, maybe. Where are you going with this?”

Kingsley chuckled, his low laughter almost melodic, and not unkind in the slightest.

“I’m trying to say that I’m proud of you, Tiny,” he said softly. “And I’m trying to tell you that you don’t always have to act so tough all the time. Not on your own, anyway.”

“I know that.”

“Good. So, without telling me that you don’t know, how are you feeling about the trial?”

“I don’t…” Artemis sighed. “The thing is, Kingsley, I really don’t know. I don’t know what’s going to happen at the trial, or after, and so I don’t know how I feel.”

“I see,” said Kingsley, and he leaned forward in his chair. “So, at the trial, the Wizengamot will question both Rakepick and your brother about their involvement with R, the Cursed Vaults, and the deaths of both your brother’s friend and yours. They will call witnesses to give testimony - such as yourself - regarding certain events, and then the court will vote as to whether or not they are guilty. Rakepick will be sentenced to a life in Azkaban prison, and she will stay there, Shiratori or no Shiratori.”

“And my brother?”

“As far as I am aware, your brother has committed no crimes. I see no reason why he should be condemned as a guilty man, and I shall say as much if I am called to give testimony for his trial as well as Rakepick’s.”

“You’ll be there giving testimony, too?” Artemis asked, and Kingsley inclined his head.

“I’ll be right there beside you.”

#artemis hexley #hogwarts mystery #hphm fic #hphm #kingsley shacklebolt #mad eye moody #nymphadora tonks #charlie weasley #jane court #kazuhiro shiratori

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