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CHAPTER SIX

-: the department of aurors :-

── IN WHICH PHOENIX
IS CALLED IN

. . .


"WHY THE HELL AM I HERE?" Phoenix's voice echoed into Harry's office, not seeming to notice - and if she did, definitely not caring - that he was practically holding his head up with his palm and was very close to worshipping the cup of what looked to be incredibly strong coffee in his hands. "It's three in the morning, Potter. The only reason I look this good after everything I went through during Voldemort's time was because I got at least six hours sleep. I got three. Three. This is ridiculous."

"Oh yeah?" Harry pushed his glasses up as he met her eyes. "I can best you on that - try none. I'd love to see you on no hours of sleep at all if this is you at three. Didn't they warn you? Being an Auror can mean a lot of sleepless nights."

"I didn't realise I'd ordered Boy Who Lived with a side of badly executed sarcasm." Phoenix grumbled as she slid down into the seat in front of his desk, pushing the pulp cardboard tray onto the smooth wood. "I did order coffee though, with extra shots of espresso." 

"I would kiss you but that would be wildly inappropriate." He sat up, reaching for the cup with his name on and taking a sip, letting out a sigh of relief as the magic-infused caffeine began to spread it's course. "And I think you would probably file a complaint to someone."

"It would be very wise of you not to." The Crowe girl advised, a rather diplomatic tone to her voice that had a hint of amusement that Harry wasn't too used to. He was, admittedly, growing rather fond of the witty, slightly threatening remarks - they did liven things up a bit admist a murder enquiry. "I always have one drawn up just in case." She added, and Harry nodded, taking another sip.

"Wise. Just in case." For just a moment, Harry wondered if he had offended anyone by insinuating there was someone in the office who could harm the woman in front of him like that, before realising they were entirely alone and that there wasn't even anyone to take offense. Perhaps he should try and be just the slightest bit like Phoenix - she was upfront, and it benefitted her in many ways.

"So? What the hell am I doing here?" Phoenix asked, taking her own coffee from the tray, kicking her feet up onto the desk, heels landed on a pile of documents that curved beneath the intrusion.

But then again, being upfront didn't mean you weren't being rude.

Harry grimaced, reaching for the ruler stashed besides the pot full of pens and pencils that more often than not had run out of ink or was the wooden home of broken led, using the end of it to poke at the leather of her shoes until she sighed and sat up properly. 

"Three hours, Potter." Phoenix repeated the words, eyeing the ruler as though it was her worst enemy. "Three hours. I woke up half an hour ago and managed to get coffee before arriving. Tell me, now, before I leave."

Harry's eyes scanned her body - she might claim it to be so, but it certainly didn't look like she had only woken up half an hour previous to her crashing through the Auror department and knocking so hard on his door that it sounded like she was attempting to break it down. 

A pair of spider web patterned tights sat under a pair of heeled boots that clung to her calves, a grey and white striped skirt with a white blouse sitting crisply above it, one half tucked in and the other not. Over that sat a matching blazer to her skirt, her hair pulled up in garnet red clip, which was the same colour as her lipstick. Whatever makeup she usually applied was seemlessly there, and even the array of earrings that would take Harry a year or so to put on lined either ear.

Perhaps he couldn't let her hasty yet perfect dressing go to waste, and he would ignore the rude comments and just answer her. "Fine." Harry said, sitting up and recovering the open file with sheets spread all across his desk. He collected them, shuffling so that they were even before sliding them into the card, placing it besides Phoenix's coffee cup.

"Who the hell is Edward and Acnes Flint?" The Crowe asked, her fingers tapping on the desk for just a moment before pausing. Her eyes slowly raised to meet Harry's. "...No." She mumbled, breathless, stunned.

The recognition had flashed in her eyes, widening in horrorr as the personal relationship conveyed between herself, Harry, and the relative of the victims began to reveal itself. "Marcus Flint... his parents." Phoenix couldn't manage to get any more words out, then suddenly they came all at once.

"But what have they done? You're not putting them on trial are you? Because as someone who endured many conversations with that man I can assure you that they..." Phoenix paused. "Actually, I was getting confused with his girlfriend. Nope, his parents were definitely Death Eaters." 

"You got there eventually." Harry shook his head. "And no, I'm not putting them on trial." He reached forward, finger languidly pushing open the file and letting the information sit in front of of her. "I can't. They were murdered."

Phoenix's eyes flickered from the file back up to Harry. Her face had drained of colour. "Hey, I was the first to say that I was desensitised to dead bodies and all that jazz, but you were way too casual about that." She sounded oddly serious for a moment, before her demeanour changed and she began to read through the file. "Former Death Eaters, alone at home, happened last night.. found by Tina Perkins."

"Remember her?" Harry watched as Phoenix nodded. "We have to get to the scene now.. but I'm assuming you have the same suspicions as I do?" He asked, standing up as he pushed his glasses up his nose and reached for his bag.

"That it's the same killer as last time?" Phoenix said, Harry bobbing his head in reply. "Then yes, I was thinking exactly that. It seems like we have a serial killer."

Harry made his way to the door. "And all their targets are related to Voldemort in one way or another." He held it up. "After you. We'll apparate there."

"Thanks." Phoenix stood, shoes clicking beneath her as she made her way through the open door first. "And if they're related to Voldemort... then there's going to be more. Because you didn't get to prosecute all of them."

"Which means you're about to get the most rigorous training in the history of the department."


𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗯𝗹𝗮𝗰𝗸 𝗰𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗹𝗲, harry potterWhere stories live. Discover now