Chapter 15.2- Doom Days

“Mr. Potter?” The woman asked as she stepped in as if she did not know who exactly I was. I was still wearing the robes that had been ripped in the fight, I realised and pressed my lips tightly together to avoid showing my displeasure. A mark of robes of their quality was that they resisted magical alteration of any form, so repairing them with a wave of my wand would be far from easy. This was the wrong way to begin any form of interaction. I was so firmly on the backfoot here that it was almost comedic. But that mattered little in the end, I thought to myself as I relaxed my lips into an easy smile and pulled back my shoulders to ensure I was seated straight.

“Madam Bones, you must be” I said, as I observed her monocle and massive mammary glands that were apparent even through the conservative robes she wore. Something she shared with her young niece, I thought with an internal chuckle.

“I apologise for my present state, and do wish I could offer you refreshments but this is indeed the wrong kind of venue for polite entertainment” I said, leaning back and allowing myself to seem unbothered about my present situation. At least, I enjoyed the benefit of not being bound. Most likely, Dawlish judged me not to be a threat without my wand, a fact that I would be sure to correct the second I was released from this place.

She just completed her last few steps to the seat opposite me and took it with a hum. Behind her came another man. The lion’s mane beard left me in no doubt as to his identity. If the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was here, then with her would obviously be the Head of the Auror Force.

“Dawlish says you told him you thought the man you fought was Bartemius Crouch Junior who had been impersonating Alastor Moody”

“True” I said, but offered nothing else. If she wanted something from me, then she would have to ask a direct question.

“How did you know it was Bartemius Crouch Junior?” She asked.

“His face was slapped all over the Daily Prophet for weeks on end” I replied.

“Not, how did you identify the man. I mean how did you know Moody was being impersonated?” She asked.

“Just a gut feeling.” I replied.

“A gut feeling? You confronted him about being an impostor because of a gut feeling?” Scrimgeor asked, basically accusing me of lying,

“An old family heirloom helps me know the names and identities of people near me if I have it out. I checked it during the class and it told me the man in front of me was Bartemius Crouch. I confronted him about it and expected him to laugh it off but he attacked me and I had no choice but to defend myself.” I said with a shrug.

Scrimgeor looked at Bones, and she returned the look with pursed lips.