Work Text:
"This story begins deep in the underpaid, overworked bowels of the Ministry, where you will find a department like none other: the Auror Department, where the bravest witches and wizards of our time work to ensure peace and prosperity in the wizarding world. Inside these people's hardened souls and excessive paranoia and obsession with having multiple wands—"
James Potter was unable swallow his snort. "Multiple wands, you say?" He winked exaggeratedly at his cousin.
"Off with your head," Roxanne Weasley muttered. She shuffled her parchment to find the next page. "—and their thick, uncomfortable work robes, you will find hearts of gold. Or gold-plated armor." She trailed off into thought. "You never know what you'll find. Either way, they are the individuals so devoted to law and order, they practically have no lives." This time, it was Louis Weasley who laughed, but Roxanne continued, "Wait, rewind. In this department, you will find courageous, lonely individuals seeking true love and, of course—"
"Woman!" James interrupted, finally unable to reign himself in any longer. "Are you writing a novel or a dating ad?"
"Both. A novel for me, a gay dating advertisement for you. How do you like it?" Roxanne retorted, throwing her novel-writing guide at James's head.
James lit her book on fire in answer, grinning smugly from across the room. He and Louis shared an old, crabby, magically over-expanded to the point of fading out of existence desk, on the left side of the room, while Roxanne occupied a smaller but marginally newer desk on the opposite side.
"I have more copies, dolt. Louis, what did you think?"
Louis scratched his head and stared pensively at the ceiling. The tiles looked like they were about to collapse in on them, and he made a mental note to bring the life-threatening issue up in the next Auror Department meeting. "Did I hear background bathroom humor in there? You know, bowels of the Ministry? Does our Ministry have bowels? Are you comparing us to crap? Metaphorically speaking, what would a bowel movement involve?" He reached out for his coffee mug, wincing as he took it. The pain in his hand caused him to go off-balance and he narrowly missed hitting James with his elbow. "Sorry, man."
James gave him a thumb up sign while Roxanne slumped back in her rolling chair. It hit the wall behind her with a thud. "I hate you both," she said, conjuring the sixth copy of her novel-writing guide. "Seriously. Can't you give me some constructive criticism?"
Louis stretched out an arm. "Fine, give it here."
Just as Roxanne was about to send the stack of loose parchment across the room, the announcement board (which looked oddly similar to a muggle bulletin board, but the pureblood Auror who created the system vehemently denied such a thing) shouted, "Auror Weasley to Head Auror's office!"
Auror Louis Weasley scratched his head and shared an amused and annoyed glance with Auror Roxanne Weasley, and said, "Message to Head Auror: Which Auror Weasley?"
There was a long pause until the message board replied, "Apologies. Auror Louis Weasley, please."
"Must be for animagus uses," James ventured, covertly blowing a few scraps of burnt paper onto the other side of the room and into Roxanne's hair. Louis left with a shrug and an unvoiced reply. There was no way he was being called down because of his animagus form; his fingers were still too bruised for him to be able to properly walk in it, and he was out of commission for at least another two weeks. Maybe longer, if the Healers found irregularities in his newly regrown hand bones during his next appointment.
"Off you go, honey!" Roxanne called after him. Louis threw her a rude gesture.
The Head Auror's office was across the hall and a few paces to the left of their office. The Weasley Team's (as their Auror squad was called) office was actually a small, refurbished break room for the Head Auror back in the day, when Head Aurors led less active lives compared to the current Head Auror. The Weasley Team was strictly forbidden to complain about their room's size.
Louis barely had time to wonder why he had been called in—aside from the fingers, which the Head Auror knew full well about, he hadn't done anything noteworthy in the past few weeks—and soon he was already at the door. He knocked thrice and received a "Come in!"
The Head Auror's room was the size of the Weasley Team's room plus another half a room, and meant for only one person. It was grand, like all such rooms were, although the French Ministry's Head Auror's room was much grander, as Louis had found out when he still worked for the Department of Wizarding Games.
After being gestured, Louis sat down on a plush office chair and waited for the Head Auror to speak.
The Head Auror handed a thick case file to Louis and folded his hands together. "Auror Weasley," he began with a nod, and Louis could practically see him reminding himself once again to use Louis's full name on the announcement boards. "Your team is back on the Petrichorus Thief case." He paused while they both pretended Louis was completely impartial to the decision. When Louis visibly collected himself, the Head Auror continued, "You're the only team that's gotten close to him, and I want results. I also want you to be careful, do you hear me? He's a dangerous criminal, no matter how generally nonviolent he is. I'm telling you that as a boss, an uncle, and a father."
Louis flexed each of his fingers, reminding himself that they were there and they were whole. But this was no time for his woes. "Yes sir."
Uncle Harry—because he was looking at Louis with such an unmistakably caring expression, that he couldn't be mistaken for the Head Auror. Louis's expression told Uncle Harry all he needed to know: that he better than he was two months ago, if not completely healed. After over thirty years as an Auror, Uncle Harry had gained better than average skills at reading people.
"Anything else I can do for you?" Louis asked. There had to be another reason why he alone had been called to the Head's office, and it wasn't to judge Louis's mental state. Uncle Harry had done that last week at dinner, probably while deciding whether to put the Weasley Team back on the Petrichorus Thief case.
Uncle Harry handed Louis a sealed envelope. "I'd also like you to stop by Ridgeback Road, building twelve, apartment 3B. Drop it off in person, if you can."
Louis mentally counted off a list of people who lived there, right down to Teddy Lupin, who hadn't shown up for the last three Saturday dinners. "Teddy Lupin?"
"Yes," Uncle Harry said. Louis suddenly noticed Uncle Harry looked more stressed than usual and older than he had ever seen him. "He stopped sending replies to my letters about a week ago, though the letters never came back. I though he was just busy with his new job. Then the goblins contacted me this morning to say he was fired. He hasn't shown up for work the past week. I don't have the time to see him; I leave for France tonight, and I can't spare the time if he's taking some sort of impromptu vacation."
"Yes sir," Louis said, and the moment of familiarity broke.
"Dismissed, Auror Weasley," the Head Auror said.
Louis nodded and left the office. He was bothered by Teddy's disappearance. Teddy's wasn't always the most reliable of people, but he'd never gone missing for this long. Teddy had also acted oddly the past few months, forgetting meetings and not showing up for family gatherings, but Louis had assumed he'd gotten a new girlfriend or something similar.
He made sure to hide his worry. Uncle Harry obviously didn't want to worry James. Roxanne and James would see through the facade (Aurors weren't selected through luck and nepotism), but he put one up all the same.
"I'll kiss that pout off your cute lips," Roxanne purred, sliding up next to Louis and putting her arms around his shoulders.
"Gah!" he cried, shuddering and jumping away. "The power of magic compels you to leave me alone!"
"The power of pureblood-ism compels me to snog you," she answered with a saucy wink. Roxanne laughed at his disturbed expression and waved him into their office.
"James!" Louis cried. "She's doing it again!" He flopped down into his chair and started making a barrier of paperwork between Roxanne's and his side of the room, using only the Wingardium Leviosa spell as a way of precision practice.
James didn't bother replying, too involved in his book. Judging by the ever-present mess of papers on his side of the desk, he was too busy procrastinating to do any paperwork. Louis also noticed a new stack of paperwork on his own side of the desk that hadn't been there twenty minutes ago. "James Potter," Louis growled, "Why—"
"What's the case?" Roxanne yelled over the barrier of papers. Louis flicked the door closed and swept the papers away with an easy swish. "Show off," Roxanne grumbled. She jumped off her chair and went over to the boys' side of the room, wandlessly pulling her chair along. Louis rolled his eyes at the double standard.
"We're back on the D307:PT, guys," Louis said, shoving the extra paperwork off his desk and spreading out the case file.
Just the case's title forced the group to become serious. "What do we know?" Roxanne asked.
James lined the photos on the announcement board the way they had been two months ago, with a few additions. Louis shoved down the pervading feel of déjà vu and stayed at his desk. His coffee (James's coffee, if he were completely honest) was bitter, but he needed the shock to his system. Roxanne put the papers up with the newest evidence in the center. Louis noticed she didn't put up the photos of the last robbery and settled for a short glare at her coddling.
"So," she said, with another glance at Louis. "The Petrichorus Thief. Back again, aren't you, sweetheart?" She poked the masked face in the photo. "After a two month break, we thought you were gone for good."
"There's been a break-in at the Parkinsons, the elder family home. Twelve thousand galleons worth of crap was stolen—not really that important what—but it's definitely him. He used the Petrichorus Charm on exit, filling up the first floor of the house. The stench is probably killer right now. It only smells nice in small amounts."
"Why does he do it?" Roxanne muttered, her face millimeters away from the shadowy picture. "There has to be a reason."
"Attention, arrogance, idiocy. Take your pick," James replied.
Louis settled into his thinking pose with his legs crossed on his chair, elbows on his desk, and head on his knuckles. "What's different?"
"Nothing." Roxanne examined the papers again. "Absolutely nothing. Same MO, same quick in and out, same vague black-covered shape on the security viewing charms."
Louis came over to the announcement board. "The shape of him is definitely the same. Same guy, most likely not a copycat. That charm's a pain to learn. There hasn't been enough time for anyone to practice it in the time he's been absent." Same height. If Louis were in his spider form right now, he'd be completely certain of it. "Have the younger Parkinsons been interviewed?"
"Yes." Roxanne handed him the interview papers. Louis scanned them; there was nothing to hint that it was an inside job. Not that there had been any evidence of that sort in any of the Petrichorus Thief's six previous jobs.
James whistled over at Louis's right side. "Look here. Solid gold quill set stolen. The Parkinsons are probably having a family weeping session right about now."
And if the Weasley Team had done their job properly two months ago, the Parkinsons would still be using their needlessly extravagant quills. But there was no use in crying over a spilled cauldron, so Louis examined the photos more closely. An elegant doorway with a missing statue, a dining room with missing silverware, a safe missing a few thousand galleons worth of Gringotts coins—all done in under one hour while the gentlewizard and lady of the house were upstairs sleeping. Louis felt a twinge of professional jealousy.
"Well, we're off to see the wizards," Roxanne decided, pulling on her professional Auror's robes over her daywear.
Louis and James stared at her blankly.
"Why do I bother?" she asked, throwing her hands up in the air. "You're like the Three Stooges, you two and Teddy."
"We should have never let Uncle Harry introduce her to muggle culture of all things."
"Then she wouldn't be writing a book," Louis agreed. "Or saying weird things."