Chapter 15

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CHAPTER 15

The next morning, Harry went into the Auror Office to talk to Robards about his options. He ended up swallowing back any indignation or embarrassment and agreed to spend a few weeks back in the training halls with the new recruits, just to see what he could and couldn't do.

For Harry, at least it felt like doing. Like taking some control over his life.

"How did it go?" Ginny asked when he and Ron got back from his first foray into the training halls.

"He kicked their arses, of course," Ron said, slapping him on the shoulder. "And not just because half of them were dumbstruck with hero worship."

Harry shook his head. "I still can't get used to that."

"Yeah, well, you never did, even with all your memories. So I wouldn't hold your breath either way."

"Well," Ginny said. "Just don't forget who your number-one fan is." She leaned up, giving him a kiss.

He eagerly kissed her back, even if he felt a little weird doing it in front of Ron. Other than making a gagging noise, he didn't comment on it.

"I'm off for practice," she said, and swept out of the apartment.

Ron and Harry scavenged through the fridge, pulling together plates of lunch.

"I've been thinking about the neurotoxin," Harry said, handing Ron a butterbeer and sitting across from him.

"Yeah?" Ron asked around a mouthful of sandwich.

"Well, I was thinking about why someone would do that to me."

"You mean instead of just killing you, if what you saw was so important."

"Yeah," Harry said.

"Well, you are notoriously difficult to kill," Ron said. "So maybe they didn't see the point."

Harry laughed, thinking of the scars all over his body. He'd started asking Ginny about them, but they'd barely managed to get through half of them so far. "Am I?"

"For a while you actually were. Not so much now. Much more weak and mortal. But I'm not sure the public at large understands the distinction. Man Who Survived Twice, and all that rot."

Harry frowned, knowing there was a much bigger story there he would have to ask about some day. For now he'd rather leave it be. "Let's assume it's not that."

"Okay," Ron said. "So they chose to make you forget instead of die."

"Because they didn't need me out of the way forever? Just for a certain amount of time?"

Ron gave him a wary glance. "But it could be permanent, couldn't it?"

"Yes," Harry said. "But they couldn't very well bank on that, could they? I mean, it's an unknown toxin, according to St. Mungo's. But for how long?"

Ron nodded. "Because they would definitely use all of the resources of the entire Ministry to find a solution. To fix the Chosen One. No. You're right. This couldn't have been about getting rid of you long-term."

"Which means what I saw is only dangerous for a certain amount of time."

"Okay," Ron agreed. "How does that help us?"

"I have no idea," Harry said, rubbing his fingers up under his glasses.

"Anything in the files ring a bell?"

Harry picked at the edge of his sandwich. "Only one," he said, handing Ron the file.

"Smugglers?" he asked, thumbing through the report documenting the illegal transfer of dark materials into the country.

"I can't explain it, but I swear the answer is in there somewhere."

Ron gave him a speculative look. "Know it is? Or feel?"

He shook his head. "The toxin levels haven't budged." There was no way he knew anything in particular.

"So a feeling then. An intuition."

"I know," Harry said, slouching back in his chair. "That's meaningless."

"Not necessarily," Ron said.

Harry gave him an incredulous look.

"You may not remember how many times your instincts have saved my arse, but I certainly do."

"Really?" Harry asked, feeling a traitorous spark of hope.

"Yeah, mate. I wouldn't discount it." He tapped his chin. "Tell you what. I'll dig about a bit. Look for any overlap between that area of Sussex and smuggling cases. Okay?"

"Yeah," Harry said. "Thanks."

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