[x] 'Subtly' eavesdrop.
Yes, there are better things to do than handle those bullies, but you don't see why you can't manage both. As your eyes slide over to the door behind the counter, an idea pieces itself together in your mind. You want to know what the Auror came in here to talk about, since it seemed to shock Ron so much. And those two lunkheads just gave you the perfect cover story. If you're caught -- when you're caught -- you'll just say you were trying to find the shopowner, to tell him the truth about that prank. You'll know what the man came in here to talk about, avoid getting told off for eavesdropping, and serve those boys some justice all in one fell swoop.
You can't help but smile at your own brilliance.
Walking quietly and wisely staying out of sight, you make your way from the heavily laden shelves and over to the counter, where the partition stands partly opened. The Auror must have forgotten to shut it behind him -- quite lucky for you. With another step or two, you're crouching behind the glass display case, checking around and above you to make sure the coast is clear. After all, it sounded like the bullies were behind the railing somewhere on the upper floor, giving them a bird's eye view of your location, should they look down. If they saw where you were, you're certain they'd make a scene about it. Not because they know your plan, of course. It's much too clever for the likes of them. They simply seem the type to spread misery however they can, and tattling on a girl being where she shouldn't would certainly qualify for that.
Thankfully, you see nothing. You're clear to approach the door whenever you're ready.
You take a deep breath, calming the urgent beating of your heart. You've broken rules in your life before, it's true. You've snuck food from the kitchen, gotten Tasha to do your chores for you, and read things you shouldn't have -- something which continues to get you in trouble, it seems. But those have all been at home. Those rules were all your parents rules. This is the real world, and the cost of getting caught is much higher, even with the airtight alibi you've planned out. You can't decide what the butterflies in your stomach are. Anxiety? Or...excitement?
[ ] Anxiety. You break rules when you have to, but you don't enjoy it. This is the most nervous you've been in months.
[ ] Excitement. All this sneaking around is thrilling, and will make the payoff even better. You can hardly wait to see those bullies' faces.
[ ] A bit of both. You're doing this for all the right reasons, and you want to see your plan play out, but the thought of things going wrong still puts you on edge.
Not dwelling on it a second longer than you have to, you look around one more time and dash over to the door. You stand up, guarded from sight by a little alcove, and press your ear against the cool wood.
Either they're speaking very loudly, or this door isn't very soundproof, because you can hear everything.
"Blimey, Harry. You can't just come in here and tell me this," Ron says, clearly agitated. "Could you not -- I dunno -- send an owl or something? Give me a bit of warning? I have to go and work after this!"
"I'm sorry. We didn't have a choice," Harry says. He doesn't sound terribly sorry, though. More...that combination of irritation and stress you sometimes see in Dad when work is busy. Except worse, somehow. "I had to come as soon as the wards got tripped. Owl's not fast enough."
"Well, what do you expect me to do? Hang up my 'Closed for Death Eater Hunting' sign? Tell the kids that Daddy's running an errand and might never come back?" Ron shoots back. "There are reasons I left the Aurors, Harry. And those reasons need me to cook them supper and read them bedtime stories and make sure they don't blow themselves up."
"You think I don't know that?" Harry says. "I have my reasons too. They'll be in just as much danger as yours if we don't handle this as soon as we can."
"It could have been an animal! It could have been some idiot who wanted to loot the damn place. The wards are old -- they could be faulty."
Harry sighs.
"It wasn't just one ward, Ron," he says. "We know what false alarms look like. We've dealt with them for years. This is a pattern, one we've seen before. Either they're meeting again, or someone knows we're watching, and they're trying to get our attention."
"Merlin's beard," Ron says, nearly whispering. "I don't know which is worse."
"Neither do I," Harry replies. "That's why I need you to come back. Hermione too, if she can."
Ron goes quiet for a long time.
"Why now? It's been years," he says. "I thought we got them all."
"You never believed that, did you? It's what we all wanted to think -- but we all knew. Some slipped through the cracks. It was only a matter of time."
There's another long, tense silence.
"You don't think he can come back again, do you?" Ron says, even quieter now. "We killed him for good, right?"
"It's not Voldemort I'm worried about," the Auror replies. "It's the idiots who will try and take his place."
Your mind is swimming with what you just heard. You can barely make sense of it all -- Death Eater? Voldemort? You don't know what those words mean, but you recognize the fear in both men's voices, and can feel their tension even behind the door. It's enough to make you shiver. You thought you were going to overhear some benign news, maybe some gossip. Unwittingly, it seems you've stumbled into top secret Auror business, and you can't shake the icy feeling in your gut that this has something to do with The War. The history that Dad has never, never spoken of in front of you.
Could...could something like that happen again?
Heavy footsteps thunder from across the store, shattering your frightened reverie. In the glass of the door's window, you see the faint reflection of two boys -- one burly, one lanky -- racing each other down the stairs. They're heading dangerously close to the exit. If they leave the store before you can get the shopkeeper's attention, your entire plan for revenge will crumble. You have to act now or lose your chance.
So you do what you have to. You wrench the door open and say, loudly, "Mr. Weasley! Mr. Weasley, I know who's behind that prank!"
The two men nearly jump out of their skins, turning over to you with shock in their eyes.
"Wha..." Ron manages, recovering before the Auror does. "Wait, what are you talking about?"
You barely hold back a frustrated sigh.
"The prank from earlier! When Fred threw that trick snake at my sister. Only it wasn't actually his idea, there's these two boys who made him -- and they're about to leave -- come here, I'll show you," you say, eventually deciding to explain the situation more when the bullies aren't in danger of escaping. You bound over to the partition and re-enter the main floor, only stopping when you're directly between the two boys and the door.
They stop, looking over you with confusion. The lanky blonde boy's face settles into a sneer before long.
"You're in our way," he says, not bothering to disguise the threat in his voice.
"I know," you reply.
The burly boy's had time to catch on now, and his humongous brow furrows into a clear expression of anger, though you notice it lacks the snobby disdain of his friend's.
"It's a bad idea to get in our way," he says. "You should move, if you know what's good for you."
"No, thank you. I'm quite happy here." You cross your arms and plant your feet firmly on the ground. "I think there's a few things you need to answer for before you go."
"What--" the blonde boy begins, then cuts himself off as he looks you over more closely. "Oh, I see now. You're that little coward's sister, aren't you?" He breaks into a slow, mocking smile. "Don't blame us 'cause she got scared by a six-year-old."
By now, Ron's come over, hurried footsteps slowing as he sees the standoff between you three.
"Right, what exactly's going on here?" he asks, looking at each of you for a few seconds. "Something about the prank earlier?"
The large black-haired boy immediately blanches. His blonde friend shoots you a poisonous look before turning to the shopkeeper, his face a badly acted mask of innocence. You don't think he realizes how unconvincing he is.
"I don't know what you're talking about, sir," he says. "Marcus and I were just on our way out. We must hurry back to our homes for supper, or our families will worry."
You snort. Across the room, you see Harry do the same.
"That's a lie," you say. "I heard them talking a few minutes ago. They were going on about how my sister's a pansy, and making fun of her for crying. They even said they gave that trick snake to your nephew -- it wasn't his idea at all." You thrust your finger out dramatically. "They're behind the whole thing!"
The lanky boy fakes an expression of surprised indignation that's no more believable than his first.
"I wouldn't ever do something like that, sir!" he insists. "We were only trying to figure out the secret code this whole time, so we could buy the half-price Snackboxes. I didn't even know you sold trick snakes here." His face slips into more genuine anger as he looks your way. "Besides, it's not like she has any proof."
But you do. Oh, you do indeed. You turn to Ron.
"When Fred leapt out of that barrel, he wasn't just screaming. He shouted something. An incantation," you say. "'Serpensortia,' I think?" It's not one you're familiar with, but you remember it all the same. "Why would a six-year-old know something like that? It's not like people conjure snakes around the house all the time."
The lanky boy's smile starts to fade into that sneer of his, while the bigger one (Marcus?) looks like he's about ready to faint. Unfazed, you continue.
"And you heard him. When you were talking to him, he said that 'they' made him do it. Remember?" you say, then gesture around at the empty shop. "Who else is in here right now? What other 'they' could he have meant?"
"H-He could have been lying," Marcus says quietly. At this, Ron darkens greatly, fixing the two boys with a stare to curdle milk.
"Listen here. My nephew is many things, but he's no liar. Not like you two," he says. "Terrible actors, the both of you. Quick pointer: if you're going to lie, try and be less obvious about it."
The dark-haired boy's trembling a bit now, unable to meet Ron's eyes. "Axel..." he whispers, but his friend ignores him. By now, all his mediocre efforts at pleasantness have disappeared.
"Fine," he spits out. "So we gave the kid a trick snake. What does it matter?"
"It matters because you scared a little girl half to death and then tried to pin it on a boy half your age," Ron barks, and Marcus flinches visibly. "I have half a mind to report you to the authorities."
"Why?" Marcus says, panicked. "We didn't steal anything. We didn't break any rules."
"Maybe not, but I have the Head Auror in here, and -- well. He gets to make his own rules, and I wager you just broke a few of them."
Harry waves from where he's standing. The boys both stare now, slackjawed.
"Harry -- Harry Potter?" Axel stammers, finally showing a glimmer of intimidation.
"That's right," Ron says. "You just made asses of yourselves in front of Harry Potter. Hope you're proud."
Marcus is shaking outright now, hands balled into fists at his sides.
"W-We -- We didn't mean --"
"I don't want to hear it," Ron interrupts him, walking over to the door and throwing it open. "Out of my shop. Both of you. And I don't want to see you back until you've grown some common sense -- or until you've graduated. Whichever comes first."
Axel takes in a breath, like he's going to say something, but seems to think better of it at the last moment. He scowls, stomping over to the entrance with his minion.
"Come on, Marcus. Let's get out of here," he mumbles. The two of them reach the door a few moments later, and Marcus scampers out with his tail between his legs -- but Axel turns around one last time, unmistakable fury in his eyes. You feel it boring into you even after Ron slams the door shut.
You think you may have made your first enemy here.
"Gits," Ron says, walking back over. "There's a few in every class, I swear. I'd bet money they're purebloods, too. Those families wouldn't know decency if it kicked them in the--"
He pauses and looks at you.
"--shins. Anyway, can't thank you enough, Miss...?"
"Astrid," you say.
"Astrid. I'll throw a Chocolate Frog in with your free Bertie Botts for clearing my nephew's name."
Ah, wonderful. Unlike Bertie Botts, Chocolate Frogs don't run a fifty percent chance of making you gag. You smile brightly.
"It was nothing. Just wanted to see the idiots who scared my sister rightfully punished," you say.
"Ha! That's a Gryffindor attitude, isn't it?" Ron says. "Think you might be wearing the red and gold in a few weeks' time. Don't you, Harry?"
He looks at his friend, who you now know to be the Head Auror and a figure of some note, though you'd only seen his name mentioned a few times in the Daily Prophet. You follow his gaze -- and find that the black-haired man is staring at you intently, green eyes glinting behind his glasses.
"Astrid," he says. "I need to ask you something."
Your blood runs cold. There's no way he could know -- could he? You were so quiet at the door, you didn't think there was any way they could suspect.
You force yourself to nod, trying not to look like you have a guilty conscience.
"Sure. What is it?"
His face goes very serious. You have to admit, he cuts a very intimidating figure, towering over you in his Auror robes.
"How much of that conversation did you hear? Were you listening in at all?" he asks. "Be honest."
This isn't good. This isn't good at all.
[ ] Answer truthfully. You really don't want to lie to the Head Auror, even if you do get in trouble.
[ ] Tell him you heard a bit, but don't admit that you were eavesdropping. That's more believable than denying it outright.
[ ] Tell him you were only trying to find Ron, and didn't hear anything at all. You don't want to think about what would happen if he knew you listened in on purpose.
