Gallowslake [HP]

[Caasi]

I am writing this as a direct sequel to Deathly Hallows, somewhat two years after the battle of Hogwarts. Should fit the genres drama and crime, if that's important.

Synopse: Two years after the war Harry and his generation have moved on to find a new life after their tumultuous Hogwarts years. But following a career as an Auror forces Harry to confront Wizarding Britain's dark past, as well as his new fears. Taking a mentor role in the Auror Dept., Harry must manage his rapidly evolving career and relationships while fighting against the ghosts of war.

CH1: GALLOWSLAKE
​

"Avada Kedavra—"

The voice was quiet, a whisper in the dark.

"I had to mend that broken Vanishing Cabinet that no one's used for years."

"That was clever… there is a pair, I take it?"

"The other's in Borgin and Burkes, and they make a kind of passage between them."

Harry woke up feeling tremors. He looked outside and despite his poor sight, it was clear that it was still dark outside, the sun hours away from rising. He sprouted his feet from under the bedsheets and placed their soles on the cold floor. Cracking his neck and cleaning his forehead of his nightmare sweat, he looked around to check on Ginny and make sure he hadn't woken her. Most of her face had sank on her pillow, and her half open mouth drooled as she slept profoundly.

Smiling for a few seconds, Harry prodded himself out of bed, leaving his room and making sure he silenced his footsteps to not awake her. It had been a month since his last nightmare, and the first since Ginny had moved in. She had been a soothing presence in the beginning, but he knew the novelty feeling would eventually pass, and the ghosts of his past were once more at the doorsteps of his dreams.

Taking his sleepy body to the kitchen, he was filling a glass with water when he heard pecks against one of the living room windows. He crossed rooms, reaching behind his sofa and sliding a curtain out of the way in order to reveal Ron's owl. It had a letter on its beak, and a look that seemed to be begging for some rest.

Just what the heck had Ron been doing to his owl?

Placing the glass of water in a side table, he opened the windows and reached for the letter, opening on the way back to the kitchen in order to grab some dry fruits and give to the owl for its hard work. It seemed to appreciate the gesture as it attacked the small flash. Harry then, settling himself on the sofa, took the actual letter out of the envelope and opened it.

"Haha," Ron had actually written the laugh, making Harry chuckle, "Beat Hermione on being the first to wish you a bloody happy birthday. It was pretty easy to make her forget after sharing with her a whiskey bottle, and not drinking the whiskey. Everything set for dinner tonight? Send a hug to my little sister."

"Fuck sake, Ron," Harry smiled as he massaged his temples.

He was feeling some headache settling in, typical of nights he could catch enough sleep. A finger of his passed over his scar, tempted to press it to see if responded in anyway. It lurked beneath his most superficial thoughts, the fear that somehow, someway, the Battle of Hogwarts two years ago had been just a dream, that the fight wasn't over, or perhaps it hadn't even started.

But tonight, Harry felt it was time to challenge that idea. He pressed his scar with intent, and after a brief moment of fear and anxiety, the world lost and regained color. Nothing happened. His scar was okay, like it had been since Riddle's final death.

Harry sighed, finishing his glass of water. He eyed the owl, wondering what he was supposed to do with it for the moment. He figured it could just chill inside the house and take a rest until morning. Lifting himself up, he went to the kitchen to drop his glass in the sink, but as he turned to the door, he found there Ginny in her nightgown, leaning on the door frame with her arms crossed.
"I heard you in your sleep," she said gently, voice low in an almost inaudible whisper.

Harry pressed his lips, looking at her for a moment before looking away, "Sorry, it's… it's getting rarer," Harry explained, "Sorry if I woke up—"

"Harry, cut the bullshit," she smiled, taking steps towards him and reached for his shoulders as she hugged him, "It's fine. You told me before they had been more frequent, but I was a good luck charm for a few weeks right?"

Harry nodded as he returned the hug, "The best luck charm."

"You spoil me," Ginny giggled as she took a step back and grasped Harry's hands, "But you know, I think I deserve it this time."

"Really?" Harry rolled his eyes, "What for?

"Look," she gestured to the sink besides them, "I cleaned the dishes with my own hands!" She nodded proudly, "No magic."

"Not even a scourgify?" Harry asked, looking at the plates closer in order to measure her work, "Impressive, but seems like someone still has to much free time."

She slapped his shoulder, "Pre Season games haven't even started yet," she said in a hurt voice as she started pulling Harry out of the kitchen, "I am so bored, but you know what could be nice to pass time?"

"Hm?" Harry asked with a smile as Ginny drove their bodies back to their bed.

She pulled his body and both fell on the bed, but Harry's leg brushed his side table, pulling a file from work onto the floor.

"Huh?" Ginny covered her gaped mouth with a fake frown, "Did you just drop your homework on the floor? McGonnagal is going to take off two points just for the dirt, now."

"I think I can manage," Harry rolled his eyes as they kissed over the sheets.

"What's it about?" Ginny asked inbetween.

"Silly things," Harry answered quickly, ready to go back to playing.

"What silly things?" she pressed, and Harry deflated.

"It's a…" he tried to remember, but after a few seconds he realized he wasn't sure which file he had brought home anymore, "Let me check."

Without leaving the bed, he reached for the file on the floor and read the codes at the front, together with a title.

"Gallowslake," he whispered with none of the joy he had seconds before.

Ginny frowned, feeling Harry's discomfort. "What's that?"

"The wrong file," Harry answered succinctly, dropping it on the side table and returning to Ginny's side. He sighed, "I brought the wrong file, which means I gotta go back to the ministry tomorrow to get the right one."

"What makes it the wrong file, though?" She prodded.

Harry shrugged, "Pretty much anything I don't really want to do right now. I can take care of it later."

She pulled him closer to give him a kiss, "Then just take care of 'Gallowslake'," she whispered in a dramatic tone, "It'a cool file name, like those muggle spy movies Hermione showed us. James Bind?"
Harry laughed, "Bind? You talking about James Bond?"

Ginny giggled, "Bond, yes! I knew his last name wasn't right. 'Gallowslake' sounds serious anyway, so maybe it is your chance to live a super secret mission, a tale like no one would believe!"

"I think both of us have lived enough tales", Harry smiled knowingly, putting a hand on her back and rolling once to get her to land on top of him, "Honestly, after Hogwarts, maybe I should just retire. I've done enough for a lifetime as an Auror."

Ginny wasn't listening to him though, instead reaching for the file and placing it right over his chest. Opening it, she pulled a few pieces of paper, "Let me see where is your adventure is taking you. I have a right to know, you see. As your girlfriend, I need to know where I might need to rescue my prince."

"I am pretty sure the tales go the other ways around—" Ginny reached for his chin and closed his mouth.

"Sheshe," she admonished him with a whisper, "The adult is working. Let me see, Bulgaria, Albania, Serbia—you will have a chance to cross a lot of countries in the Balkans, paid the Ministry too! And there's a few relvaant wizards from Germany, so another country for you to visit. I might come too then, just to remind other girls you are taken."

"I would a blessed boyfriend to have you with me at all times," Harry said, forcing against her hand.

Ginny chuckled, "The answer of a well-trained man. I still can't trust you, Harry. You are friends with Ron after all."

"We can't all be perfect," Harry shrugged.

Ginny though, was clicking her tongue in increasing impatience, "I can't find what Gallowslake is all about, just individual files—" she went on as he took a couple more pages out of the file.
"Maybe it's better that way," Harry reminded her, "You shouldn't be looking at these anyway as a civilian, so…"

Ginny humpfed playfully, "Right, I guess I have to store them—ops, I found it. Nothing I can do, my eyes have seen it already," she was smiling at the start, but as she came close to the end of her sentence, her expression grew cold, a frown gaining place together with a small gape.

"What is it?"

"The…" She mumbled.

"The?"

"The Vanishing Cabinet," she explained, and Harry grew tense, "The one at Borgin and Burkes was stolen and… Borgin was found dead in Azkaban. Is this an ongoing case?"

"Yes…" Harry said slowly, "I didn't know they had codenamed it Gallowslake though," He didn't even know if the name held any significance.

"You are in it?" Ginny asked, but now the spy joke was long gone. He felt her worry.

"No, I am taking a break from… stuff related to the war. Just for a couple of months."

Ginny nodded, putting the papers back into the file and dropping it over the side table. She then jumped over Harry and sank herself under the sheets, pulling Harry to go with her.

"Come on, I want you somewhere I can see you. I've changed my mind. You can become a super spy after I am dead. Until then, you stay with me."

Chuckling, Harry decided to do just that. Dropping himself under the sheets, he joined Ginny. Embracing each other, the quietly closed their eyes, and right before either of them fell asleep, Ginny whispered, "Love?"

"Yes?" Harry muttered back.

"Happy birthday."

Harry, eyes already closed, could hear her smile, "Thanks, love."

​

 

[RichardWhereat]

Before I get invested, are you going to break up the canon relationships?

 

[Caasi]

Before I get invested, are you going to break up the canon relationships?

Click to shrink...

No. I'm trying to respect as much of JKR's work as possible, with the exception of cursed child

 

[RichardWhereat]

Fantastic to hear :3

 

[Caasi]

Spoiler: A/N

I am sure every fan of Harry Potter has wondered about what happened to the wizarding world after the books. My guess, and the guess of this fic, is that change was inevitable. After two wars against pureblood supremacy, wizarding britain would never again be the same. One aspect of it, however, that I have rarely seen touched upon is about squibs, and how they fit in this post war world that actively rejects blood supremacy. With proportions falling towards an increasing muggleborn majority, a better way to handle connections between wizards and muggles would surely be a hot issue. With that in mind, I started writing Gallowslake.

Kingsley's office hadn't changed much since the end of the war. It still was still quite simple, spartan even. Other than the main desk and comfortable chair, the room was filled with shelves and drawers of all the paperwork from the last two years. But even now, when it was clear Kingsley wasn't leaving the post of Minister of Magic any time soon, he had yet to perform any major changes to his liking to a room he was spending ten, maybe twelve hours a day at least.

And both Harry and Kingsley were at his own office on a Saturday morning. For the ex-Auror it didn't make a difference, however, since he was used to work six days a week withholding Sunday to rest.

"Two Aurors killed, and an assassination at Azkaban," Harry said, putting a file over the Minister's desk, "No one has died in Azkaban since the war Kingsley. How does no one else know about this?"

"It's complicated," Kingsley whispered, eyeing the file with worry.

"Right," Harry assessed with irony, "But you left the file on my table, so I believe you rather prefer me to know."

"I know you asked for two months of desk work, Harry, but I had little choice," he sighed, "Had I kept this from you, you would be mad, and had I interrupted your little vacation, you would also be angry. Not a lot of ways to go about this."

Harry looked at Kingsley and found difficult to refute him. Grabbing a chair in front o the desk, he pulled it and sat on. Leaning forward, he asked, "What do we know then about the case? Better to get this out of the way so we don't have to worry about this during dinner."

Kingsley raised a finger, leaving his chair in the meanwhile and prodding one of his shelves behind his desk.

"Here it is," he muttered, throwing over the table another file as he took his seat once again, "That's the killer."

Harry raised an eyebrow, "Wait, we know who did?"

"Unfortunately," Kingsley said gravely, "A squib, Stephen Huntington, he used to perform a precious type of work between the magical and muggle world. Characters like him are incredibly rare, and because of that, even dangerous."

Harry was reading the file, looking at the picture of man with shaved beard and well trimmed haircut. Blue eyes and brown hair, he wore a white buttoned shirt in the picture, impeccable and well taken care of. He was no mobber, and once Harry's eyes found his previous occupation, he started understanding better Kingsley worry.

"An ex-MI5 agent?"

"He was one of the links between the Aurors and the British muggle Internal Secret Service," Kingsley explained, "He saved many muggle lives behind the curtains while we fought against Voldemort's forces in the 'open'."

"What is he proficient in?"

Kingsley frowned, "Everything that doesn't involve using a wand. He had an incredible knowledge, understanding, and intuition of theoretical magic. He was able to guide wizards through puzzles they couldn't figure out. Dumbledore himself respected the man."

"Really?" Harry asked intrigued. "That seems a bit odd. Wasn't Dumbledore trying to stay away from dealing with any sort of military forces?"

"Dumbledore always refused the post of Minister of Magic, but before Fudge, he had kept a closer eye on things. He had been close to a few muggle figures after their global war in forty-five."

Harry nodded, "I see. But about Stephen, no matter his training, a squib should still have trouble entering and leaving Azkaban, other than the fact that maintenance on a number of magical objects still requires a wand. There are also numerous wards and fields that should stop anyone from apparating, as well as port keys."

At that, Kingsley shrugged, "We aren't sure."

"He is having help," Harry affirmed, "No way he could pull this off."

"Maybe, but until a crime with a wand connects to him and someone else, that's all speculation."

Harry frowned, "Speculation? Then what do we know for sure? How did we even find out it was him then? Murder weapon? He couldn't have used a wand—"

"He confessed," Kingsley said interjected.

That stopped Harry right on his tracks, "Excuse me?"

"He told us two years what he was going to do. His daughter wasn't a squib Harry. She was at Hogwarts, she joined the fight and died. Right after, Stephen had communicated his target list. The MI5 director at the time and I knew it was motivated by revenge, and suddenly assassinating major players after the war was over, in peace time, didn't exactly bode well to anyone. We had to build peace, not feed the flames of another conflict," Kingsley leaned forward, "For that the system had to be used, so that fair justice would prevail and not the rule of might."

"And nothing was done?" Harry asked incredulously.

Kingsley sighed, "After being refused, he was given some paid vacations to cool his head, and we thought it had worked. He asked to be discharged to rebuild his life and until a couple of days ago, I thought he had moved on."
Harry understood Kingsley's hope. Losing a child must be no easy struggle to surpass, and many died two years ago. Harry knew of families that hadn't gotten over yet, but he also knew of some that had done their best to move on. The Weasley's had lost people in both wars, but they had done their best to forgive and forget. Quite admirable in fact, seeking no revenge or retribution until Voldemort's return.

During the Horcrux hunt, he had been assailed many times by dark thoughts too. Of losing those he had left and loved, thinking of leaving everyone behind if it meant their safety had been a seducing thought. Ginny hadn't appreciated that at all though.

"Two years have gone by, Kingsley," Harry stated, "Are you sure it is him?"

"Borgin was found with a bullet in his skull. We can count on our fingers the figures able to access Azkaban and be willing to use muggle weaponry, even if enchanted. And most of them are dead anyway, so that really thins the list."

"A pistol? A rifle? If we identify the bullet, it could help us," Harry thought out loud, "But what enchantments? Runes, surface potions, alchemy?"

The Prime-Minister acquiesced, "Usually. But his files from co-operations between us and the muggles have shown him to be very creative with tools too. Anything in his hands can be used to kill. He is resourceful like that, so make sure you aren't alone if you meet him, but… Harry, I was thinking that perhaps you could talk to him."

"Talk?" Harry asked gaping, "I apologize?"

Kingsley didn't say anything at first, letting silence hang for a while. "I was thinking," he whispered, "That maybe we don't need to arrest him."

"Excuse me?" Harry's tone grew with disbelief.

Kingsley gestured Harry to calm down as he explained, "Stephen is a talented man, and it would be a waste of resources to put him away. We are still quotas behind our targets, Harry, and the Aurors could do with an extra instructor, or extra anything really—"

"He murdered someone," Harry reminded him of the obvious, "Give him so biscuits and a cup of tea, and ask if he wants to bloody be my mate at work?"

"Harry, see reality!" Kingsley slapped his desk, "You are one of our most respected and experienced Auror, and you just made to twenty years old! This is not normal, this is not okay! We've lost good men and women in the war, and the few that were left are retired, too tired and old to give any fucks. Apart from people like Gladius, Massey, Winney, we are understaffed to hell."

"So we get a man with blood on his hands to catch others like him?" Harry asked with slight disgust.

Kingsley shrugged, "Worked before for muggles. We need more wizards to learn Stephen's craft, Harry. If we are to develop our relations with the muggle world and reform Wizarding Britain, we need more wizards doing what Stephen did during the last war. It is a matter of time, the clash between our two worlds with out new reality. Muggleborns will become a majority, after all."

"Shaking hands needs diplomats, not killers. Those usually cut off people's hands," Harry spat, leaving his chair and turning his back to Kingsley momentarily.

Kingsley visibly deflated at Harry negative reaction, but he wasn't giving up. "Both of you have similar backgrounds, you know. Orphans, and you've had the world against you once, just like he had for most of his life for being a squib. The two of you lost family close in the last two wars. You are also Harry bloody Potter, and he is probably thankful to you for killing Voldemort."

Harry sighed, adjusting his glasses that had been falling slowly across the bridge of his nose, "Let me… let me think about this will you?" Harry grabbed the handle of Kingsley's office door.

"Borgin was a criminal," Kingsley reminded Harry, "and although, just like you, I am completely against the death penalty, Stephen could've done much worse things. It's love that when lost calls for revenge. Stephen loved, surely he can still be saved."

Suddenly reminded of Dumbledore, Harry shook his head and left without another word, closing the door behind him loudly. Borgin, Harry had never forgotten, had been integral to Draco's plan to use the Vanishing Cabinets. It didn't matter that Dumbledore and Snape were counting on it, Borgin had still been an accomplice in what could have resulted in numerous deaths at Hogwarts. His friends had only escaped thanks to the luck potion, after all.
"But none of ours died that night," Harry whispered to himself. He couldn't place a crime that hadn't happened on Borgin shoulders, but he was still very well guilty of helping smuggle Death Eaters into Hogwarts. That didn't make things much better.

Scratching his temples as he left the Ministry, Harry decided to make a stop before going back home. He didn't want to worry Ginny, so it was better if he gave himself some time for recompose.

Hyde Park was usually filled with muggles on Saturdays, but the recent terrible weather had let them away. Harry was walking through one of the roads, stepping on the mud without a worry about the filth since he could simply clean it completely with a wave of his wand. It had just stopped raining, so there was no need to conjure an umbrella.

Hyde Park allowed him to forget, while still in London, that London existed. It was a large park that his well the metropolis in the horizon, and the few to none wizards around him actually brought him some peace. He didn't have to worry magic, or magical crimes, or magical problems.

It was ironic how much before, that had been precisely what kept him going, having a life in the magical world while hating the muggle because of the Dursley. But now, since he had started a life in the magical worlds, the muggle one had become some sort of refuge. Never as precious and entertaining as how the magical world had been, but a refuge nonetheless.

He was sitting on a bench close to a set of trees when a couple of squirrels descended. He didn't quite understand what they were doing, whether they were fighting for territory, mating, or if they were family somehow. Probably none of those things, Harry realized as he took in account his complete ignorance about the subject of muggle nature.

But it was striking how life even that which is not human, spun around others and ourselves. The connections we created and built was pretty much the meat of our existence. For the squirrels, this small encounter could maybe create a family if they ended up mating, or maybe one could die if they decided to fight.

Most of his life had been about finding a family, something he got out of his friends.

And Stephen… His daughter must have meant the world for him.

Reaching the other end of the park, all Harry needed was to get inside one of the public toilets, and at the absence of any muggle, he apparated home.