The Price of Light | drarry

one | suspicions

March 2002 (two years later).

"-And now, time for our headlines this morning. The Montrose Magpies have once again played their way to successfully winning the League Cup, narrowly beating the Appleby Arrows in what was described as the toughest final since 1977-"

Harry sips his morning tea idly as he listens along to the radio and gets ready for the day's work. It was a present, that radio, a Muggle one modified by Hermione for his 22nd birthday last July, and it's become a real habit to have it on in the mornings. He likes to catch up with what's going on in the world, feel part of it.

He finishes his breakfast, stands and stretches, then sluices his plate and mug off lazily in the sink with a wave of his wand. He's just about to go upstairs again for his shower, when a name catches his attention on the crackling radio.

"-reporters state that while Malfoy's whereabouts are still unknown, there are new fears that he may be in possession of dangerous Dark Magical knowledge-"

Which Malfoy? Harry wonders. For some reason he hopes it isn't Draco, though he knows the younger Malfoy is also long missing, and likely just as capable of evil as his father. He listens intently.

"Lucius Malfoy is believed to be one of the most prolific Death Eaters of the post-war Wizarding World-" the radio crackles, confirming the name, "-and a real symbol of the philosophy of You-Know-Who to all the remaining sympathisers and former followers. It is feared now that Malfoy may have spent the past few years of his disappearance cultivating his own underground division of loyal Dark Magic devotees in a chilling reminder of Tom Riddle's rise to power, and authorities warn-"

Harry picks up the radio and bundles it under his arm as he heads up to the shower, not wanting to miss a word. This isn't exactly news, there have been stories of a new wave of Death Eaters for months now, but he feels it's his duty as an Auror to listen in case something new is raised. Especially when it's a case he's been specifically assigned to look into.

***

"The Dark Magic they're talking about is Horcruxes," Harry's boss Trevor Rosen tells him in the briefing later on. "They think that's Malfoy's latest attempt to imitate Riddle."

Harry nods, unable to be surprised at this point. "I reckon that family could be capable of such a thing, you know, Trev."

"As do I," Rosen furrows his brow. "Nasty pieces of work, the Malfoys. Not a good bone between the lot of them."

"We'll have to get hold of Lucius's wand and review the magical traces pretty soon to know if there are Horcruxes," Harry says slowly, his mind ticking over. "It certainly makes it a more urgent task, doesn't it?"

"Harry, this is about as high priority as it gets!" the Sergeant tells him seriously. "That's why I'm glad that you and Weasley are assigned - your combined experience with Riddle's Horcruxes will be invaluable, and I know you're only young, but I think you're both up for it."

Harry allows himself a small smile of pride, and feels his best friend light up a little beside him, too. "Thanks, Trevor," he says, and Ron echoes him.

"We won't let you down."

***

The radio's on again as Harry makes the first cup of tea of the day and Ron gets to work examining recent leads on the Malfoys.

"Breaking news coming in now from Azkaban," it announces suddenly over the whistle of the kettle, and both Harry and Ron spin to stare at it.

"It's being reported live that the Death Eater and former Durmstrang Headmaster, Igor Karkaroff, has been found dead in his cell following his arrest last week. Karkaroff was facing charges of over eighty counts of murder in the first degree, over four hundred uses of the Crutiatus Curse, and-"

"Fucking hell," Harry's eyes are wide, "So now Karkaroff's gone too? What is that, the fourth in two months?"

"At this time, there is no indication of foul play, and the former Headmaster is believed to have killed himself in his cell in the early hours of this morning-"

"Yeah, right," Harry scoffs, speaking over the newsreader with an eye roll. "I bet if you checked the wands of anyone who visited last night you'd find some interesting spell choices. These deaths can't all be freak accidents."

Ron raises an eyebrow sceptically. "Really, Harry? I don't think it's that far-fetched. Reckon if I was in Azkaban I'd kill myself pretty fast if I got the chance. We of all people know how hard the Dementors are allowed to go on the Death Eaters in jail."

"I just think it's unlikely," Harry shrugs, taking his own stack of reports to read over while he drinks his hot drink. "Pettigrew back in September? Sure, we could've expected that. Rastaban Lestrange? Slightly less likely, but still believable. But Bellatrix last week? And now Karkaroff? I don't buy it."

Ron looks at him in confusion. "Why do you care either way? They're terrorists. As far as I'm concerned, the more of them that get wiped out, the better."

Harry frowns. "I just don't like people taking matters into their own hands like that," he says. "It doesn't sit right with me."

***

That night, Harry goes to Ron and Hermione's for dinner. It isn't that he's lonely - he's always rather liked his own company - but his relationship with Ginny fractured a year or so after the war, and since then his little house has been rather empty. And besides, it's nice to spend so much time with his best friends. Not everyone's so lucky. This is something he knows from the war.

Another thing he knows from the war: everyone is damaged.

He can see it in the soft quiet movements of Hermione's hands - she doesn't like to bang the plates down too loud. And she hates the radio, hates to hear bad news, so Ron and Harry never bring their work home to her.

He can see it in the way Ron looks at her, like she's the most fragile thing he's ever seen, and in the way she looks at him back like she knows how incredibly lucky she is. How lucky to have the love of her life sitting across from her with a heartbeat and air-filled lungs, after everyone they've lost.

For a moment, Harry's lost in a sad daze and stops being able to focus in on the scene around him. It happens to him relatively often, this detachment, though it passes eventually. His therapist said a while back that it was something complicated to do with his trauma but he just says he's got fog in his brain, and that phrase suits him fine.

He's thinking about work but doesn't want to upset Hermione, so he keeps it to himself. They're eating asparagus risotto, for goodness sake. Not the time to bring up murder.

So Harry keeps quiet, he nods, he smiles, he clears his plate to make Hermione happy. He's never loved her more. He's never loved Ron more either. But he won't say that, either.

He just loves them quietly, and shows it in the gentle way he stands behind Hermione when he tops up her glass of wine, in the way he laughs at Ron's jokes that make no sense. He hopes they understand what he means somehow.

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a/n: so i've decided to come back to this one! i hope you guys enjoy the first chapter, please vote and comment if you did:)

~ paradisedraco