A FATEFUL MEETING, TAKE TWO
◦ *˳༄ ❨ chapter ii. ❩ ━━━━ February, 2003

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    THE first thing he noticed was her hair. It was several inches shorter than the last time he'd seen her. And it was lighter too. Or perhaps it was merely the bright lights overhead playing tricks on him; it had, after all, been well past twilight the last time he'd seen Hazel Finch, and back then it had been difficult for him to register anything, really.

    Now, however, he could see her clearly, and what he saw made something churn inside him. Still and solemn, she sat with her hands clasped together, and an ugly, purpling bruise colored the left side of her face. It ran along her cheekbone and disappearing into her hair, right above her ear. A melted ice pack rested on the table before her, condensation glistening at its surface.

    Momentarily dumbfounded, he simply stared at her. When he'd made his way to the holding rooms and pushed into the one Connie Burton, another Senior Auror, had indicated towards, Hazel was the last person he thought he'd come face to face with.

    "Ms. Finch?" he asked, voice cracking slightly.

    At the sound of his voice, her head jerked up, and brown eyes met green again for the first time in three years.

She swallowed, the sound audible in the stillness of the holding room.

It drew him back to the task at hand. Clearing his throat, he moved in more purposefully and held out a hand as he drew closer to the table, "Harry Potter."

    She grasped his hand with a firmness he had not been expecting. "I know."

    "How are you?"

    "Not terrible," she replied nonchalantly, though her voice cracked slightly.

    Harry's head jerked in what he hoped she understood to be a sympathetic nod and not a testament for how terribly well he was clearly handling this situation.

    "I'm, uh, here to ask you some basic questions," he explained, taking the seat opposite her. There was the usual gray folder on the table, containing details from her earlier, initial statement, as well as any records the DMLE might have on her. "We're trying to establish a timeline of what happened and when."

    As he rifled through the papers, he began reciting the words that had been drilled into him during his hasty Auror training. "I'd like to gather some information from you, as part of your official statement regarding the incident for which you have been summoned to the Auror Office today. You will be asked about your whereabouts and any details pertaining to it that you may remember — where you were last night, what you saw or heard, who you remember. . . stuff like that. If at any point you need to step back, take a minute, do let me know. Now, uh, our conversation will–"

    "–be recorded and may be used as evidence." Harry looked up in some surprise as she finished his prattling sentence. Hazel was peering at him with an expression that was undoubtedly exasperation. "I reserve the right to–"

    "–remain silent, refrain from answering questions you do not wish to," interjected Harry, "or–"

    "–terminate the session at any point I–"

    "–wish, yes."

    At Harry's raised brow, Hazel shrugged. "I'm aware of the procedure."

    "I couldn't tell." Harry bit back a grin when the barest of smiles tugged at the corner of her lips. Unable to stop himself, he asked, "How come you're well-versed in Auror protocol?"

    Hazel considered him for a moment. "My mum was an Auror, before she retired," she revealed, then, seemingly considering her next words carefully as though she wasn't sure whether or not to say them at all, added, "So was my sister."

    Harry frowned. Robards and Cresswell, who were no doubt stood on the other side of the room, had not mentioned anything about the new witness being related to another Auror. Hazel's use of the past tense when talking about her sister had also not escaped his notice.

    Forcing himself to concentrate on the task immediately at hand, he said slowly, "I wasn't aware of that."

    "I could tell."

    It took him some effort to refrain from smiling; he was keenly aware, though he could not see it, of the eyes watching the scene unfold from the other side of the window.

    He flicked through her file again, eyes skimming over the standard documents: a basic profile, school records, Healer licensure from St. Mungos — all the standard documents kept on file for each witch or wizard. He caught a glimpse of her O.W.L grades – Exceeds Expectations and Outstandings in all her subjects; she had, however, ended up with a P in Arithmancy. There was also a lengthy transcript from her interrogation — interview, as those higher up in the DMLE preferred to call it — that had taken place right after the Battle of Hogwarts to record the events that had occurred during the War. And to collect evidence, mostly incriminating, for the atrocities committed by the Death Eaters.

    "Right, your mother. . ." Harry mumbled, scanning the section on her personal information.

    "Caitlin Finch," provided Hazel, "Or Caitlin Robards, before she got married."

    Harry looked up sharply. "Robards? You're. . . are you related to–"

    "Gawain Robards? Yes, he's my uncle."

    "Oh."

    His first coherent thought, after the initial flare of blind panic, was that Hazel Finch was as mellow as her uncle – his boss – was standoffish. His second thought was if this was all some elaborate trap concocted by Robards and Cresswell to drive Harry insane and force him to resign within the week (perhaps Dawlish and Savage were in on it as well – neither of them seemed to care much for Harry's presence in the Auror Office either). Or maybe, they just enjoyed taunting him.

    Handing him a cold case with the Head Auror's niece as the (only) lead witness . . . Robards really had the worst sense of humor.

    Something in his face must have given way to the thoughts in his head, for Hazel grimaced a little too knowingly.

    "In the grand scheme of things," she said calmly, "I can assure you being related to him is not the worst thing to have happened to me."

    The corners of Harry's mouth lifted, and Hazel tilted her head a bit.

    "Though, I suppose you can't say the same, Potter."

    He tried, truly (no one said he couldn't lie inside the holding rooms, had they?), to mask his laughter by pretending to have overcome with a fit of hacking cough, but the damage was done.

    Someone from the opposite side of the observation window rapped sharply on the glass.

    Sobering up, Harry drew a length of parchment from inside the file and lay it flat by his hand. He then picked up a scarlet quill that lay on the table between them and sucked the end of it before settling it over the parchment. He finally turned to Hazel with a more somber expression.

    "May I?" he asked quietly, pointing to the quill, which had jumped to life and poised itself over the parchment, ready.

    With a small intake of breath, as though she were steeling herself, Hazel sat up straighter. Her hands came to rest on the formica tabletop, fingers laced together so tight her knuckles turned white. She, however, gave no other outward sign of being ill at ease.

    Instead, meeting his gaze steadily, she gave a curt nod.

    The sound of the quill scratching across the parchment filled the room.

✦

Case ID — MPC-0733-U
Location — Holding Room #4
Date — 3rd February, 2003
Start Time — 10:32:15 AM
End Time — 11:13:47 AM
Interviewer — POTTER, HARRY J., Lead Auror

POTTER, H.: It is presently 1032 hours on the 3rd of February, 2003. Auror Harry Potter, here to interview Ms. Hazel Anne Finch. This is for case number MPC-0733-U. No evidence is currently present in the room. Ms. Finch, I'd like to ask you a few questions regarding your whereabouts from 6 PM yesterday evening until the hour you arrived at the Auror Office, as well as anything you may have heard or witnessed during that time period. Anything you may say will be recorded verbatim by the Auror Office issued quill here. Is it alright with you if we proceed?
FINCH, H.: Yeah, alright.

POTTER, H.: For the benefit of our records, please identify yourself by stating your name, age, and your wand specifications. Then kindly consent to the proceedings of this conversation by reading the parchment before you.
FINCH, H.: Hazel Finch. 23. A willow wood wand with a phoenix feather core. 11 ¼ inches. Reasonably supple. And I... what's the statement say again? Oh, yes... being of sound body and mind, willfully and, er, voluntarily do consent to this interview on the morning of February the 3rd, 2003. I do solemnly and sincerely declare and affirm, er, that the evidence I shall provide shall be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

POTTER, H.: Thank you, Ms. Finch. Now —

[POTTER, H., Lead Auror, pulls a [REDACTED] diary from his coat pocket.]

POTTER, H.: Can you tell me where were you last night? Give us a full description of what happened yesterday evening between the hours of 6pm and 8am this morning. Please provide as many details as you can.
FINCH, H.: Oh, uh, I was attending a birthday dinner for my friend, Paisley Latimer, yesterday evening. We went down to that new wizarding pub in Oxford – The Iron Lute? I'd spent the day at work in St. Mungos – I'm a Healer in the Janus Thickey Ward. Spell damage, you know. Anyways, I got home around 5 in the afternoon yesterday, got ready, and left for dinner around 6:30. I live near the pub we were meeting at, so I walked to it. I reached there around 6:45, I think, and saw everyone, had dinner, stayed until 9. I went with some friends to go grab a coffee from a nearby Muggle cafe afterwards.

POTTER, H.: And what was the name of this Muggle cafe?
FINCH, H.: Costa Coffee, I believe.

POTTER, H.: Who else was in attendance at the dinner?
FINCH, H.: Me and Paisley. Her girlfriend, Donna Twigg. Our friend, Otis Entwhistle. Marigold Flume. Neville Longbottom. Seamus Finnigan. Juno Raywood. Eloise Harte. There was someone else too... oh, George Weasley, of course.

POTTER, H.: Anyone else?
FINCH, H.: No, no one.

POTTER, H.: Are you certain about that, Ms. Finch?
FINCH, H.: Quite.

POTTER, H.: Very well. All these people – all ten of you went for coffee after dinner?
FINCH, H.: No — Goldie and George only stayed until dinner. Said something about having to wake up at the crack of dawn tomorrow. But the rest of us went for coffee, yes.

[*NOTE by POTTER, H. Lead Auror —
Marigold Flume is being referred to as "Goldie" during the conversation.]

POTTER, H.: What happened then?
FINCH, H.: We got coffee, walked around Oxford for a bit, chatted. Paisley and I made plans to go down to [DATA REDACTED] and see Goldie's new apartment the following weekend. Otis was talking about returning to the pitch – he plays Chaser for the Montrose Magpies, but he'd torn a ligament badly, so he's been recovering since. We just... we all just sat and talked, really. The usual stuff, you know.

POTTER, H.: Go on, please.
FINCH, H.: Around 10 I thought I'd go home. I had work the next day, and I was covering another Healer's shift too. I told the others as much, said my goodbyes, and then I was walking back to the alley with another friend, Juno.

POTTER, H.: Ms. Raywood didn't wish to stay longer?
FINCH, H.: Mhmm, no. She'd been a bit under the weather all week, so she decided to head out when I did. Juno's flat's in the building next to mine, you see. She lives over [DATA REDACTED], and since neither of our places were too far from the cafe, we walked home together.

POTTER, H.: Right, so around 10, you and Ms. Raywood parted from the others to return home. Do you, or did Ms. Raywood, often walk home? Or was it just last night that you decided to walk instead of Apparating?
FINCH, H.: I normally walk. Oxford's pretty, especially at night and early morning, so I like to walk through it. Clears my mind.
POTTER, H.: And Ms. Raywood?
FINCH, H.: She never cared much for walking around the Muggle world if she could help it, but she did last night because of me. I suggested not Apparating. It had been so stuffy in the pub and cafe, and the fresh air felt good. . .

[FINCH, H. pauses for a drink of water.]

POTTER, H.: Of course. So what happened then? Once you'd said goodbye and started towards home?
FINCH, H.: We - we'd taken a path by the canal to get back to our block. It's so serene at night, we thought. And then. . . I. . . I. . .
POTTER, H.: And then you, what? What happened by the canal?
FINCH, H.: I'm not. . . Har– I. . .
POTTER, H.: Ms. Finch, are you alright? You look a little. . . Do you need a moment?
FINCH, H.: No.
POTTER, H.: It's quite alright if you'd like a breather. I–
FINCH, H.: No, I just – I can't remember what happened next.

POTTER, H.: You can't remember what happened while you were walking by the canal?
FINCH, H.: No, I can't. I vividly remember starting on the path. I'd thought it very pretty, like something my sister would love. And then, I don't know. I don't know what happened, what I did. I can't remember anything from what happened after we started on the path.

POTTER, H.: Nothing at all?
FINCH, H.: [Shakes head.]

POTTER, H.: What's the next thing you remember then?
FINCH, H.: I – well, the next thing I remember is waking up in Diagon Alley this morning, and. . . and. . .

POTTER, H.: And seeing Juno Raywood dead?
FINCH, H.: Yes.

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A/N.
is reading a transcript annoying? I thought writing it like this might make the whole Q&A session a bit easier to get thru, no descriptions or anything unnecessary like that but idk. Lemme know what you thought of it. Should I include such reports periodically in the future chapters? Or no?