Harry turned away from the elevator doors, the folded Daily Prophet still clenched tightly in his hand. His eyes were distant. Beside him, Delphi stood deep in thought, mulling over the heated exchange she had just witnessed.

"Will someone explain this ludicrous fascination with Voldemort coming back from the dead?" Harry exclaimed, his voice edged with exasperation.

Delphi looked up, her dark eyes meeting his. "Harry, once the Daily Prophet releases the story..."

"I know," he sighed wearily. "Mayhem to the nth degree."

"We'll need to do a goodwill tour — traveling to wizarding villages — speaking to the people directly, like what you just did," she suggested earnestly.

Harry dismissed the thought. "That's Percy's domain. I'm no politician."

"They'll need someone to calm their nerves and assure them that the story is false," Delphi pressed gently. "Someone they already trust and admire."

A thoughtful silence fell between them as Harry considered her idea. The distant hum of conversations and the fluttering of inter-departmental memos overhead seemed to fade as a separate plan began to form.

"Gather every Auror who is not already on assignment," he instructed, with newfound resolve. "Have them track down Finch-Fletchley. After that, I need them flying, searching, talking to those who know secrets, following those who won't reveal secrets. Something about this feels wrong."

"Harry, can I ask..." Delphi hesitated. "How can you be so certain that Voldemort hasn't returned?"

He met her eyes with an easy, steady look. "I'll explain everything soon. You should know the whole truth if you're to become my second in command."

"Really?" she answered, her eyes going wide with surprise. "But I only just... I mean, I'm grateful..."

"I need people I can rely on, now more than ever," he said firmly. "And you're too valuable to be off in the field."

Before Delphi could respond, Ron and Hermione approached through the crowd. Hermione was clutching a large, ancient-looking book to her chest. Harry cast a longing glance at the shuttering golden grilles, wishing for his own swift escape.

"And if we locate Finch-Fletchley?" Delphi prompted.

"Tell him to keep quiet about this," Harry replied tersely. "If he refuses to listen, deliver him to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. I can't have someone the Minister finds credible spreading falsehoods and fomenting panic."

"Harry, they won't admit him without cause," she cautioned.

"You heard Percy—the man is still suffering from the Basilisk attack. Creature-Induced Injuries. St. Mungo's—First floor."

"So, don't bring him in?" Delphi clarified.

"No, I haven't time in my schedule to question anyone," he said curtly.

Delphi hesitated, her brow furrowing slightly. "Then who's that old man in the interrogation room?"

Harry blinked in surprise. "There's someone in the interrogation room?"

"That's what we wanted to talk with you about, Harry," Hermione interjected, stepping forward.

"Not interrupting, I hope," Ron added slowly, his gaze flickering between Harry and Delphi.

"Nothing of the sort," Harry assured him.

Ron gave Delphi a sharp look, causing Harry to clear his throat awkwardly. Sensing the tension, Delphi looked away, careful to keep her expression blank.

"I'll go," she said softly.

"Fine, take care of that and come straight back," Harry instructed. "I'm going to need your help. We have to deal with this before it gets any more out of hand."

As Delphi walked away, disappearing through the golden gates, Ron watched her departure with a disdainful click of his tongue. "Nice cloak," he muttered in a quiet undertone..

"If you don't behave, Ronald Weasley, I will tell your mum," Hermione warned sharply.

Ron shrugged, continuing. "Made Auror rather quick, that girl. She's just an assistant, they keep telling me."

"We're not doing this," Harry huffed, trying to brush past them.

"Actually, we are doing this whether you like it or not," Hermione countered, grabbing his arm and spinning him around with surprising strength. "Because fate or... or destiny... is bringing you back together."

Harry raised an eyebrow, genuinely taken aback. "Are my ears deceiving me? Is that the voice of Hermione Granger talking about fate? Have you become a Seer now?"

"Clever, Harry," she replied coolly. "But you should hear what Ron has to say. It would make a believer out of any skeptic."

He sighed heavily. "I really, honestly, do not have time for this."

"Then make the time," Hermione insisted, her gaze unwavering.

"Why have you taken up one of my interrogation rooms?" Harry asked, impatience creeping into his voice. "You know... you're supposed to ask first."

"Harry, you need to hear Ron out," she pressed.

Crossing his arms, Harry glanced between them. 

"Fine," he relented.

Ron exchanged a brief look with Hermione. She gave him an encouraging nod and adjusted her grip on the hefty book. Turning back to Harry, Ron squared his shoulders.

"Fine. But if you say one thing about—"

"You'll do what, Weasley?"

"He'll hug you," Hermione interjected pointedly, stepping between them. "Because we're all on the same team. Aren't we, Ron?"

"Yes, Hermione," he conceded begrudgingly.

"Thank you, husband. Now..." she prompted.

Ron sniffed, directing his gaze upward at the flock of enchanted paper airplanes fluttering overhead merely to avoid eye contact with Harry. 

"You heard the rumors. Big raid twelve hours ago. There was an enchanted lawn decoration. A happy little man in a green rain slicker. They call 'em gnomes, though they look nothin' like a gnome, at all. Strange how Muggles get it so wrong, don't you think?"

"Ron..." Hermione admonished.

"Right," he continued. "It was a clear misuse, but not worth a citation. Even though it was left outside to run free—in a wizard's front garden—in full view of the Muggles. Not really the sort that would require a raid. But every time the gnome was removed, the bloke replaced it with another. Misusing a Muggle artifact so blatantly... it was as if he wanted us to search his home."

"His name is Theodore Nott," Hermione added. "He is an Unspeakable. Works in the Department of Mysteries."

She reached out and took the newspaper from Harry's grasp, unfolding it to a specific page before handing it back. Harry glanced down, his brow creasing as he studied the article.

"Why do I recognize...?" he mused aloud.

"He must be related to that boy from Slytherin. His father was a Death Eater," Hermione explained.

"No, not his name. It's... his face," Harry clarified, peering closer at the photograph. "I've seen him before—at King's Cross when Albus and Rose were taking the Hogwarts Express for the first time. I swear he was watching me."

Hermione exchanged a quick, fervent whisper with Ron. "I wonder if he used it!"

Noticing the large book Hermione clutched to her chest, Harry's curiosity deepened. "Used what?"

"Tell him, Ron," Hermione urged, her eyes fixed intently on her husband.

Ron took a steadying breath. "The wizard we raided—Theodore Nott—had artifacts that broke all sorts of laws including—an illegal Time-Turner. And quite a superior one at that."

"A Time-Turner?" Harry's eyes widened, his voice dropping to heated whisper. "You found a Time-Turner?"

Ron nodded solemnly. "He wanted the ability to go back further than an hour. He wanted to travel back years."

"So, Theodore Nott is now..." Harry prompted.

"In custody," Ron confirmed.

"And the Time-Turner itself?"

Hermione opened the book, revealing a gleaming Time-Turner nestled within its pages. The delicate hourglass spun slowly, its golden sand shimmering under the atrium's light. Harry gasped. He looked between Ron and Hermione, astonishment etched in his expression, deeper than the scar on his forehead. 

"Is it genuine? Does it work?" he breathed, carefully taking the Time-Turner into his hands.

"We don't know anything yet," Ron admitted. "I wanted to try it out then and there but..." He cast a sidelong glance at Hermione. "...wiser heads prevailed."

"Ron knew you had been looking for one—or the existence of one—for years," Hermione added gently.

"Saw it lyin' there. Thought you should have it," Ron added with a slight shrug.

"Actually, no one should have it, Ron," Harry replied, his voice dropping. "Hanging on to this, even for the day, you could have been sent to Azkaban." He paused, unable to suppress his fascination as he admired the intricate device. "I thought they were all destroyed."

"Might be the last one in existence," Ron speculated. "Do you think it's Dumbledore's—the one you used to save Sirius Black our third year?"

"Could be. It's the only Time-Turner that's unaccounted for after the Battle of the Department of Mysteries," Harry mused.

"I spent months with that Time-Turner," Hermione remarked thoughtfully. "This one is different. Almost handmade."

"And now we have it," Harry said quietly, a brief smile flickering across his face before his expression hardened. He looked directly at Ron. "You should've brought this to your brother."

Ron bristled, a flush rising in his cheeks. "I knew you'd be ungrateful."

"No one should be trusted with such power," Harry insisted. "It needs to be destroyed. We must inform the Minister at once. Follow protocol."

"Protocol. It's always protocol with you," Ron retorted bitterly. He turned to the passersby, raising his voice mockingly. "Come one, come all... meet the once-great Harry Potter, now a stone-cold Ministry man."

"Yes, well... making impulsive decisions is the wrong thing to do when there are lives at stake!" Harry snapped.

"Exactly! There were lives at stake," Ron fired back. "And taking an extra few minutes to deliberate about protocols and standards could get people killed. When what they need is action!"

"And breaking protocol, which is in place for a reason, is about the quickest way to bring about the deaths of those innocent people!" Harry countered, his eyes flashing.

"No one died, Harry. Thanks to me!" Ron exclaimed.

"But they could have, thanks to you!" Harry snapped.

Hermione stepped between them once more, eyes watering. "Stop it, both of you!"

But the damage was done.