Chapter - 71 : Misunderstanding
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Faced with a bleeding man bound in ropes showing signs of recent vomiting and a traumatised teenager with an obvious familial resemblance the Aurors did not believe Harry – the only person in the room with his wand out and exuding an aura of danger on top of the obvious scars – when he claimed to be innocent of any wrongdoing.
The younger Auror produced a shrunken set of old-fashioned irons from his pocket that clattered to the floor with a heavy thump as soon as he dispelled the charms on them. With both wrists and ankles bound Harry was pushed down in a chair in the corner, far away from his would-be victims.
He made sure to exaggeratedly cooperate so as not to make things worse. With a witness in Brian present – even if the traumatised boy was holding his tongue right now – he was quite sure this mess would resolve itself eventually. In the mean time he would observe.
Auror Thompson was in his forties and clearly the leader and more experienced of the pair. His brown eyes flitted over the room, searching for threats and his short black hair was already sprinkled with grey. Together with the stress lines on his forehead he had the gritty look of someone who had survived more than one sticky situation, though he was a ways removed from the damaged paranoid visage that Moody showed.
Hit-Wizard In Training Stevens, on the other hand, was a kid. His robes were pristine, shining as if they were brand new, his big blue eyes shone with innocence under his short blonde curls and he was practically bouncing around the room in glee at catching a criminal. Honestly, Harry thought law enforcement officers had to train longer before they were released on an unsuspecting populace than this kid had been out of Hogwarts.
Currently, the boy was pacing back and forth in front of Harry, trying to intimidate him by shooting dark looks. It would be much more intimidating if he didn't have to stop himself from skipping in glee every third step.
"Stevens," Thompson said in a long-suffering tone, "isn't there something you should you be doing?"
"Objective one, securing the hostile, sir!" the kid rattled off as if reading from a manual.
Thompson sighed. "And now that you've done that..."
Stevens furrowed his brow as if thinking real hard before jolting as he reached an epiphany. "Oh! Check on any wounded that may be in the area, sir."
It took another moment for the words to sink in before he gasped dramatically and sprinted to the injured man stuck to the wall. "Don't worry, sir. We'll have you down in a moment."
"He's a Death Eater," Harry reminded the pair. "Be careful."
Thompson raised an eyebrow. "Check his arms."
Stevens obediently rolled up both sleeves. "There's no Dark Mark here, sir."
As if on queue the skin started bubbling like a thick soup reaching the boiling point. In half a minute the immobile portly man's features flowed like wax until they settled as a lanky dark-haired man of roughly the same age with aristocratic features.
Stevens let out a high-pitched squeak and stumbled backwards at this sudden turn of events. "What have you done to him?"
"That would be the polyjuice wearing off," Harry responded dryly. "Check his arm again."
Stevens nervously looked at Thompson for advice, who narrowed his eyes and gave him a brisk nod. With much less enthusiasm the boy – all right, very young man – raised up the left sleeve again. Lo and behold, Locutio's inner forearm was adorned with a tattoo of a human skull choking on a snake in such thick black lines that it resembled a brand.
The young hit-wizard scrambled backwards, wand pointing at the newly discovered criminal and there was a beat of silence as both officers took in the changed circumstances, broken only by the shallow wheezing of the bound Death Eater.
"He really is dying of poison, so could one of you shove that bezoar down his throat?" Harry said worriedly. "I'd rather not end up in Azkaban for killing the scum by accident."
Thankfully the pair followed his suggestions and Harry breathed markedly easier as the tension broke and they started treating him as a witness instead of a suspect. They even released the restraints, for which Harry's tender wrists were very grateful. He added another tally to his collection of scrapes and bruises as he told his side of the story to the pair of alertly listening officers.
"You used Legilimency on the kid?" Thompson asked, frowning.
Harry shrugged at the same time that Stevens asked, "What's Legilimency?"
"A branch of the Mind Arts," Harry answered before turning to Thompson, "and no. It wasn't anything quite as clear-cut as that. I've never practised Legilimency before so I improvised. Mostly I just flooded Brian with Mind Arts magic praying for the best."
Thompson raised an eyebrow. "You do know that's illegal without a licence?" Stevens hands eagerly reached for the manacles again.
"I know using Legilimency is illegal without a licence, but I'll repeat myself, that wasn't Legilimency. Besides, aren't there exceptions for self-defence?"
"If the boy had been the one attacking you, sure. That wasn't the case, though. And I'll leave the finer details for the barristers to bicker over, but you just confessed to using hostile Mind Arts on a minor."
Stevens stood, wielding the iron chains eagerly and Harry growled, tensing. Both were stopped in their tracks by Thompson raising his hand in a sudden swift movement radiating authority. "I sympathise and we will not be arresting you right now" - he shot an unimpressed look at his younger colleague - "but I'm going to have to kick this up the chain and I guarantee you will be hearing about it later."
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If you're eager to delve deeper into the story, consider joining my Patreon for exclusive content and early access to new chapters
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