21. Breaking & Entering and Embezzlement

21. Breaking-and-Entering and Embezzlement

Mundungus Fletcher hurried off to the Ministry, armed with a scribbled note from Hermione. She looked around the ward. Inmates, both men and women, shuffled about aimlessly, or sat, twitching and glaring at nothing in particular. There were no windows that she could see but several doors at the far end of the room, one of which was ajar. Bright light streamed through the crack, and it was at this opening that the shade of Sirius suddenly appeared. He beckoned to her. She followed cautiously, not wanting to disturb the patients more than necessary. The twitchers seemed to be getting more agitated, and she could hear little sighs or sobs from others she could not see.

Inside the room, a fetid miasma assailed her nostrils. She felt faint, but the sight of Sirius, now smiling hopefully, strengthened her. Before her loomed a great tank full of cloudy, brownish water, and off to her right was a sunken pool filled with what looked and smelled like swamp mud. Sirius was hovering over the tank. Inside it, she could make out the form of a woman, wearing only a bra and panties and floating listlessly. Her graying hair floated about her head like seaweed. Apparently she was alive and breathing because every so often, she would blink or an arm would twitch. Hermione looked closer and saw a slit in each side of her neck. Every few seconds a clutch of little bubbles burst out of them.

"What are you doing in here?" a voice behind her demanded.

Hermione whirled about and saw a stern-looking man in a white lab-coat with a badge that read: Phlegyas Sticks, Chief Neurohealer. Behind him, two other wizards in green scrubs...orderlies she guessed...were dragging into the room a squat, hairy, nearly naked inmate who was struggling against them.

Hermione averted her eyes. "I'm visiting. I wanted to see..." She turned back to the tank. "...her."

"Ah, Selleca Prod, our burglar-ette. You a relative?"

"No, a friend."

"Well, you can't talk to her now, she's in treatment. So you'll have to come back another time, Miss..."

"Granger. Erm...I thought that the Waffling Water Cure had been proven not only not helpful, but, in fact, detrimental in most cases of severe depression."

"Are you a Healer, Miss Granger?"

"No."

"Then I think you should leave such decisions to your betters. In any case, they can't drown. An infusion of gillyweed takes care of that."

He turned to the group behind him. The inmate was writhing about, gnashing his teeth and struggling against the grip of his beefy attendants. Healer Sticks growled, "Malacoda, Malebranch, lower Mr. Silver into the bath. He'll need several hours of steeping."

Hermione was horrified. The Transmogrifian Mudpack was, if anything, worse than the Water Cure, but she bit her lip and watched as they Stunned Silver and pushed him into the pool of churning filth. The disturbance caused other bodies to rise briefly to the surface. The stench sickened her, but she managed to ask, "Could I see Madam. Prod's belongings? I want to buy her some things, but I don't know what she needs."

At Healer Sticks' nod, one of the orderlies led her back to the day room and pointed to a line of scarred and dented lockers. Selleca Prod's name was etched raggedly on one. Hermione rummaged through the clothing, glanced at a small album containing pictures of family pets...cats mostly. A yellowed news clipping fell out of it.

9 Aug 1992: On the night of August third, Selleca Prod, feline enthusiast, and former president of the local Muggle SPCA, was caught breaking into a Muggle house by Aurors acting on a tip from the Improper Use of Magic Office.

Prod at first claimed to be visiting someone she'd met at the All-England Cat and Kneazle Show the day before. The woman, a Squib named Arabella Figg, remembered meeting Madam Prod but claimed she had had no visitors that night. Confronted with this fact, Prod changed her story and said she was actually in the neighborhood examining a new strain of catmint in the local park and planned to surprise Miss Figg with a visit. On her way across the development in the dark, Madam Prod claims to have heard a strange noise and seen a large, shadowy object hovering in the air next to a window in the upper storey of a house. Fearing a return of Death Eater attacks, she raced over to alert the occupants. Finding the doors locked, she used an Alohomora to get inside. It was this spell that was detected by the IUMO.

"We've been watching that house for some time," said Ministry official Mafalda Hopkirk. "Had a call about some underage magic there just a few says before." Although she declined to go further into the reasons for the surveillance, it is known that a student wizard lives in the area.

Prod further alleged that once inside, she noticed a storage-closet door open under the stairway and some gold strewn about the floor. She followed a trail of Galleons and odd bits of clothing up the stairs, picking them up as she went. She entered a bedroom, where she saw three Muggles in pajamas staring out the window. As everyone looked safe, she tiptoed back down the stairs. She claimed she didn't want to alarm them further, dressed as she was in wizarding robes. She was apprehended outside the door still clutching the loot by Aurors, sent to investigate by the IUMO.

The wizard boy who lives there was contacted at his school and questioned discreetly about the incident, though not told of the reason for the interview. An official stated that "the poor chap has enough to be going on with without being told that his dear relatives have been endangered." The boy, in fact, denied knowing anything of the forced entry into his own bedroom.

The Durtsey family, to whom the house belongs, refused to be questioned. Officials did ascertain from a search of the grounds that the break-in was effected by some kind of pulling charm, which wrenched a set of protective bars off the upstairs window.

Prod has been charged with breaking-and-entering, using magic in a restricted zone, and making up a ludicrous story to cover her crime. If convicted, she could receive up to five years in Azkaban.

Hermione's mouth hung open briefly. She remembered what Ron had told her about breaking Harry out of "that prison in Little Whinging" at the start of second year in an enchanted car. At the time, she had been quite as upset about it as she had also heard that they had crashed that selfsame car into the Whomping Willow at the start of school. She had given both boys quite an earful over it.

She whispered to Sirius: "I think I've got the solution. Someone will have to question Harry and Ron...and Fred and George too... about what really happened on the ninth of August, 1992. Hmm... perhaps if Mr. Weasley shows up, he can help us with this case too."

Sirius smiled. At that moment, the main door opened and in walked the nurse, followed by Dung Fletcher and Arthur Weasley. Behind them trailed another couple, a small man Hermione recognized vaguely and a woman who looked very like him, except that her face was deadly pale. He was wearing a purple velvet hat and grass-green robes. The woman, dressed in gray, clutched his arm; her head was curled into her chest, as if she was trying desperately to retreat, not only from their current destination, but from life itself. Sirius floated behind her, pointing at her and nodding his head gently.

"... we're always happy to have a member of the Ministry visit," Nurse Rechidd trilled nervously. "I'll be happy to get the Head Healer for you, if you like."

"That won't be necessary, Nurse, thanks," said Mr. Weasley, inclining his head to her. Nurse Rechidd gave a little yelp and hurried off to the room that held the water tank and the mud pool, closing it firmly behind her. Arthur Weasley stared after her a moment before noticing Hermione. "Oh, there you are, my dear. Dung told me about your theory. I must say it sounds most exciting. Imagine a Muggle contrivance that can actually harm a wizard."

"It would have meant thousands of volts of electricity traveled through his body, Mr. Weasley. Enough to kill an elephant."

"Thrilling! I shall let the Wizengamot know and..."

"I don't think that's the most important thing, sir. Really, an article in The Prophet would be best. That gang needs to know that their leader's death was an accident, so they'll stop harassing Mr. Mortlake's family. Then they'll be able to visit him again, and everything will be all right."

"Excellent idea, Hermione. I have a few connections on the staff. By the way, Molly's been wondering when you're going to come and help us get ready for the wedding. We'd be pleased to have you."

"I'd love to, really. How's Ron?"

"Oh, fine, fine. He's not entirely happy having to Scourgify the whole house, though I told him it's excellent practice for NEWTs."

Hermione laughed, then turned serious. "Mr. Weasley, you don't happen to the know folks that came in with you, do you?" The odd couple had passed them and were seated on a couch. The man had taken off his hat and was twirling it nervously. The woman looked utterly terrified.

"As a matter of fact, I do. That's Dedalus Diggle, an Order member, and his...erm...unfortunate sister Delia," he said.

"Oh yes, I recognize him now. Would you mind introducing us?"

"Not at all." They marched over to the little man and Mr. Weasley proffered his hand. "Dedalus, how are you?"

He came out of his self-induced trance and mumbled, "Oh... ah... hello, Arthur... How's the family?... Got your invitation... not sure we can make it though... Give my best to... Bill and his intended, will you?"

Hermione remembered Dedalus Diggle as a very friendly fellow, who always had an impish grin on his face. But this Diggle was sober, almost curt. No doubt his sister was the cause of his reserve. She looked to be eaten up inside by some secret horror.

She put out her own hand. "I'm Hermione Granger, Mr. Diggle."

A faint glint showed in his eyes as he shook her hand. "Granger... ah, yes... You're a friend of Harry Potter's, aren't you?"

"That's right. Mr. Diggle, I hope you won't mind my asking, but why have you brought your sister to this awf... this place?"

He stared at her, and for a moment, Hermione thought he might just tell her to mind her own business. Which he has a perfect right to do, she scolded herself.

But then a rueful smile came over his face, and he shook his head. "Oh, how I wish I didn't have to. But, you see, ever since her reputation was ruined, Deelie's spirits have gone from bad to worse. I've tried everything I can think of to cheer her up...weekly fireworks displays, trips abroad, parties, games, pranks... She tried to end it all last week...with a self-inflicted Blaster." He brightened. "The Healers think a bit of the Water Cure will help."

"Not the Waffling Water Cure," cried Hermione.

"Why, yes, I believe that's the name. I brought her in here a week ago, and they diagnosed her as deeply depressed. Healer Sticks says either the Water Cure or the Transmogrifian Mudpack should snap her out of it."

"What's that about, Hermione?" asked Arthur Weasley.

"I know 'bout that Mudpack thingie," said Dung with a shudder. "They've used it on Brutey Mortlake, more'n once. It always makes 'im worse than before."

Hermione grimaced. "That sounds about right. They're both antediluvian methods of treating mental illness, long since shown to be ineffective, at best."

Arthur rubbed his chin. "Hmmm... I've heard nasty rumors about this place."

"About the hospital?"

"Oh no. Just this ward. There was supposed to be an investigation some months ago, but it got quashed. The Aurors are just too busy investigating You-Know-Who's mischief. Well, Dedalus, I'm not going to try to pour water on your hopes, but I think you should listen to this young lady. She knows an awful lot about just about everything."

Hermione blushed at the compliment and shook her head.

"Oh, now don't deny it, Hermione. Ron's been telling me about all the times you've helped him and Harry with your knowledge. He's very impressed...and grateful."

"Really?"

"Really. I do believe he's got a bit of a soft spot for you. But say, Hermione, do you think we can help Delia Diggle here? As I understand it, she's been sick a long time, hasn't she, Ded? Last time I saw her, she was working at Flourish and Blotts...about five years ago, I believe."

Dedalus stopped twirling his cap. "That's where it all started, Arthur. You may remember, she was a trusted member of the Gringotts staff for years."

"I do. The only witch or wizard of our generation to be trusted as a teller for the main vault."

"And it was a hard won trust, I can tell you. But she left them after twenty-five years of faithful service to care for her husband who had incurred an incurable, deadly hex from an Egyptian tomb. He was a Curse-Breaker for Gringotts, you know."

"No, I didn't know." Hermione saw a frown crease Mr. Weasley's brow. Was it possible that Bill had never told his mother and father about the risks of his job?

"She took a part time position at the bookstore in Diagon Alley. She just loves to read, you know. Well, one day the owner, Mr. Blott, had an emergency. It was an important day because Gilderoy Lockheart was going to be in to sign copies of his latest book, and also school would be starting soon, and sales were booming. Delia convinced Mr. Blott that he should leave her in charge with just an assistant to help. But he made her take Polyjuice Potion so that she would look like a man too. Somehow he didn't think all those adoring female fans of Lockheart's would take a witch seriously if she had to get tough with them. There was a bit of a set-to during the signing...probably people cutting in line...but nothing really dangerous. She got knocked about a bit, trying to break it up, hit her head and was out for a few minutes. But the assistant, Mr. Blott's nephew, said everything was fine. Otherwise, the day seemed to go normally."

Hermione listened carefully. This story, like the one she read about Selleca Prod, sounded familiar, in fact, almost déjà vu.

Diggle continued, his voice rising. "Now, Mr. Blott uses an Automatic Inventory Charm on his store every night. When he returned from his emergency, he totaled up the assets and compared them against sales. It turned out that six sets of Lockheart's books could not be accounted for, and numerous other school texts were missing. The total amounted to over five hundred Galleons. My sister was disgraced. Never in all her years at Gringotts had a single coin gone missing on her watch, but now, she stood alone, virtually accused of embezzlement. She resigned under a cloud of suspicion, and it was rumored that she had been canned by the goblins for a similar crime. She's puzzled over it endlessly, but to no avail. Her reputation, as she saw it, was ruined."

"You're not much like your sister, are you, Mr. Diggle?" observed Hermione.

"No, not at all. Delia's always been the responsible one, looking out for me. I just can't seem to be serious about anything. But now I have to be...for her sake."

"Mr. Weasley," Hermione murmured. "Does this story ring a bell with you? I think we were there that day..." She looked at Ron's father. He seemed dumbstruck.

"Yes, I think we were. I...Hermione...is it possible? I know that Hagrid weighed in and broke up that fight between me and Lucius, but did we really leave without paying? All those books..." He counted on his fingers. "Harry, Ron, you, Percy, the twins, and Ginny...but that makes seven sets, not six."

"But Lockheart gave Harry a free set, remember? And he gave them to Ginny."

"That's right." He turned to Dedalus. "I'm so sorry, Ded. I believe it may be my fault that those books went missing. You see, we were all in the store that day, and I...erm...got into a fight with Lucius Malfoy..."

"Not surprising," said Diggle.

"...and Hagrid...you know him...the Hogwarts Groundskeeper...big fellow...got between us and chivvied us all out of the store. The young assistant didn't dare ask us to pay, I believe he was that scared. Don't suppose he's ever seen a half-giant before."

"Quite understandable under the circumstances. But why didn't he admit what happened to Mr. Blott?"

"You know kids, Ded. He was probably terribly embarrassed at having made such a huge error. And I, hothead that I am, never remembered to come back and pay for everything. Molly was too angry at me to notice either."

"Could you have afforded it, Mr. Weasley?" Hermione murmured gently.

"No, of course not. We were actually planning to just get one set of Lockheart's books and have the children share. But now, with my new job, I'm happy to say I will be able to make things right...especially if Fred and George chip in for their own set. Come on, Ded, and bring your sister. We're going to Flourish and Blotts right now."

They were halfway to the door when Dung stopped them. "Wha' about Brutey?"

"Bring him along," said Arthur. "I'm sure Nurse Rechidd will give me custody for a short time. She seemed rather uncomfortable having a Ministry official here in the first place. We'll stop in at the Prophet offices and you can tell your story..."

Hermione called after him as he strode to the exit. "There's someone else we have to rescue from this place, Mr. Weasley..."

"Who's that?"

"Madam Selleca Prod." Hermione told them all the poor cat-lover's story.

"Oh my," said Arthur. "I'll get Ron and the twins to 'fess up at the Ministry. That'll get her a pardon. Where is she?"

Hermione led him to the room which held the hated so-called 'cures'. It was locked, but Arthur opened it easily with an Alohomora. Behind it they discovered Nurse Rechidd and Healer Sticks, hastily dressing a damp looking witch, Madam Prod. The gill-slits in her neck had disappeared, and she looked conscious, if a bit glazed over. Behind her, several very muddy, smelly men were being cursorily cleaned and clothed by the attendants.

"Madam Prod," said Arthur in his most authoritative voice, "come with me." Sticks and Rechidd just stood there, their mouths hanging open. "And you two," he thundered, "had better clean this place up if you don't want my office coming down on you with all the force of Ministry justice."

He stood aside to allow the other inmates to exit with some dignity, then offered Madam Prod his arm, escorted her through, and shut the door behind him.

Arthur did another opening charm on the main door and ushered his charges out into the hallway. "Is that everybody?"

Hermione saw Sirius hovering over them all, beaming and nodding furiously. "Yes," she said.

"Good. We're going to Apparate to the bookstore now, Hermione, then the news office, then the Ministry. Thanks to you, all these folks will have their lives returned to them. Come with us, won't you?"

"I can't just now, but if you need someone to explain about the electricity, I'll try to..."

"That's all right. As your note said, any Muggle Fizzicks text will explain it." Arthur put his arm about Madam Prod, and Dung and Dedalus did the same for their charges, although Dung could only manage a fistful of his large friend's sleeve. They all Apparated out, and Hermione smiled.

Her smile changed to a frown as she heard a rumbling and whooshing sound behind her. She turned in time to see the stream of water in the trough that ran parallel to the stairs transformed into a churning, frothing cascade. At the bottom, it overflowed in a great wave, which demolished the wall next to the guard's station. She watched in awe as it pounded and drenched Healer Sticks and Nurse Rechidd and the two attendants and carried them into the sunken pool. Its force shattered the water tank and scoured the pool of filth. A large hole opened in the opposite wall, and the slimy muck was washed through it, leaving three wizards and one witch...all smelly, soggy, and indignant...in its center.

She turned away, chuckling to herself, and saw Sirius and James, sitting on the stairs together, the light of mischief managed in their eyes.