He looked far more reliable than Tonks.
At the very least, his first reaction was to scan the corners of the pub for suspicious figures, his hand resting inside his pocket, gripping his wand tightly, ready for a fight at any moment.
"Nymphadora, aren't you going to introduce us?" The man stepped forward, his voice deep.
Tonks bared her teeth in an imitation of Sirius. "Call me Tonks!"
She lazily lifted her hand, holding her drink, and gestured toward the man. "This is Kingsley—Kingsley Shacklebolt, an excellent Auror. He was my instructor during training."
"If it weren't for a certain 'accident,' he'd be the Head of the Auror Office by now."
Kingsley interrupted her, displeased. "That wasn't an accident, Nymphadora."
"Baldy, call me Tonks!" she snapped, kicking him in the shin.
"Did you find the werewolves?" Harry asked.
Kingsley glanced at him, then shook his head. "I think you've been tricked by Skeeter. There's no sign of werewolves here—at least, none that I could find."
"Sit down, have a drink, warm up a bit, or do you want to keep looking?" Harry invited him.
"I'll have a drink." His eyes flicked toward the whiskey on the table, clearly tempted. He nodded and took a seat.
Just as he reached out for the bottle, a Butterbeer flew into his hand with a soft whoosh.
Kingsley froze.
That wasn't what he had wanted. He hadn't had Butterbeer since he was of age.
"I—" He looked up.
"Mr. Shacklebolt, even if you haven't found any werewolves," Sirius said, his face serious, putting on the authoritative air of a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, "and even if Skeeter's information turns out to be false, we can't just dismiss it as fake."
"What if it's real? What if there are a lot of them?"
He tapped his temple. "We need to keep a clear head." As if he truly possessed a clear head.
Kingsley pressed his lips together, silently pouring himself a drink and downing it in one gulp. He sighed. "Mr. Potter, is it just the five of you?"
"Six," Harry corrected, pointing at Aberforth. "He's with us too."
Six.
That wasn't what Kingsley had expected.
"No professors? I heard that Professor Snape was working with you on lycanthropy research."
Harry shook his head. "Professor Snape is researching it because I'm interested in it."
"The Order of the Phoenix also wants to use it to gain the werewolves' trust."
He paused. "But capturing Greyback? That's for Remus. Snape would never bother with that—he'd rather see Remus, my godfather, and the rest of them dead."
"I feel the same way," Sirius muttered, taking a deep gulp of Butterbeer as if it were dragon-blood whiskey.
If it weren't for Dumbledore and Harry, he and Snape would have dueled at least three times a day.
"What about Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick?" Kingsley pressed.
"We could ask them," Harry replied, looking at him, "but this is personal. And I believe I can handle it."
"Personal? But you involved Tonks—and the Ministry." Kingsley raised an eyebrow.
Harry glanced at Tonks. "For her, this is personal too."
"And as an underage wizard, if I hear about a dangerous situation and inform the Ministry, isn't that the most logical course of action?"
Personal?
Kingsley finished another Butterbeer, smacking his lips. "Let's head out now."
"Now?" Tonks had just sat down, and before she could even warm her chair, she was standing again.
If she couldn't drink whiskey, there was no reason to stay.
Kingsley set his glass down and gave a firm nod.
Aberforth waved them off impatiently. "You go on. I'll stay here—I still have customers."
Though, in reality...
It was Christmas Eve, and the only other person in the bar was a drunk slumped over in the corner.
At the door—
"How are we searching? Splitting up?" Kingsley asked.
Harry thought for a moment. "I'll take Tonks, Hermione, and Neville."
"You take Sirius and Ron."
"We split up. If we find anything, we send a signal."
Kingsley nodded, pointed his wand to pick a direction, and turned to the right.
Harry stepped off toward the left.
Hogsmeade was lively that night, bustling with people. Every shop had a towering Christmas tree in front, decorated with exquisite gifts. The tree outside Honeydukes had sweets hanging from its branches, free for passersby to take.
At the Three Broomsticks, drinks were also hanging from the tree—two glasses of dragon-blood whiskey sat at the top, periodically transforming into fire dragons that circled the tree before landing back into their cups.
It was the most valuable thing they had seen on their walk.
But no one dared touch the two glasses of whiskey.
The most common treat was Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans.
Neville and Tonks grabbed handfuls, stuffing them into their pockets and eating as they walked.
Until they passed Zonko's Joke Shop.
Harry sniffed the air.
The stench of werewolves. Unconcealed. Fresh.
He stopped and looked in the direction of the scent.
"Found them?" Hermione asked.
Tonks and Neville stopped mid-bite, turning to look as well.
Harry nodded and crouched down.
In front of him was a patch of snow-covered ground. He reached out, brushing away a thin layer of snow, revealing a clear footprint beneath. "Werewolf scent. Four or five of them passed through here—less than half an hour ago."
"Bacon, candy, whiskey, Butterbeer…"
"Looks like they made a round through town and grabbed plenty of supplies."
Tonks, despite her usual carefree nature, was still an Auror—she had the instincts for it. "Can you estimate their numbers based on the amount of food?"
"Auntie Tonks, my nose is just more sensitive than most people's," Harry said blankly, standing up. "That doesn't mean I have some supernatural ability to weigh food just by smelling it."
"Call me sister!" Tonks' eyes flashed dangerously. "We're not that far apart in age."
"And technically, I should call Sirius 'Uncle.'"
Harry gave her a sideways glance and said lightly, "But I've always called Remus 'Uncle'."
Checkmate.
Tonks opened her mouth but couldn't find the words.
Calling herself sister gave her an age advantage, but thinking about Remus made her heart ache.
But calling herself aunt? That made her feel old. So very, very old.
After a long silence, she sighed in defeat and flicked her wand. "Should I inform Kingsley now?"
Harry nodded.
She waved her wand, summoning her Patronus—a lively rabbit that hopped through the snow before leaping into the air and bounding off in Kingsley's direction.
Soon enough—
Kingsley arrived with Sirius and the others in tow.
"That fast?" The bald senior Auror wasn't used to Harry's efficiency.
"This is Harry we're talking about!" Ron said proudly, stuffing more sweets into his pockets like Neville. "He's amazing!"
"You'd make a good Auror," Kingsley praised.
Harry shook his head. "No, thanks. I have no interest in the Ministry."
"But Aurors—" Kingsley tried again. He knew Scrimgeour wouldn't be in charge of the Auror Office forever. One year, two years—at most, three. After that, Kingsley would take over.
Who wouldn't want a sharp, capable subordinate?
"I've met a lot of Aurors," Harry interrupted with a wave. "Only three seemed truly competent—Professor Moody, Mr. Scrimgeour, and you, Mr. Shacklebolt. So far, you seem competent, too."
Tonks flung a snowball at him. "Harry, did you forget? Your dear sister—your dear Auntie Tonks is an Auror too!"
"I didn't forget," Harry replied softly, tilting his head just enough to dodge the snowball.
Kingsley nodded. "Aurors need new blood."
"Cedric is excellent," Harry suggested.
Kingsley smiled wryly. "We tried, but Mr. Diggory wants to be a professional Quidditch player."
"He does have talent for it," Harry admitted.
Kingsley sighed. "You brilliant students never consider becoming Aurors."
"Let's go," Harry said, leading the way. "Be careful—there are at least five werewolves."
Kingsley followed and turned to Hermione. "Miss Granger, have you considered becoming an Auror?"
Hermione shook her head. "I might join the Ministry, maybe teach, or even pursue a Muggle degree. But Auror work isn't part of my plans."
They pressed forward.
Harry stopped, gazing into the distance.
"A den—freshly dug. The werewolves are inside." He narrowed his eyes.
"There are more than ten of them."
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New fics out, one called Hogwarts: Don't Call Me a Wand Maker and another called One Piece: Farming from the Rocks Era. I will delete one based on the reception later, if both do well, I'll keep both.
Powerstones?
For 20 advance chapters: patreon.com/michaeltranslates