A/N: J.K. Rowling owns the Harry Potter universe, and I'm making no money from this fic. Again, thanks so much to all the people who read over this chapter for me, subscribed, or reviewed! Huzzah for the four reviews!

What's comin' will come, an' we'll meet it when it does.

-Rubeus Hagrid, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. Copyright J.K. Rowling.

Hepler doesn't like small towns, and Ottery St. Catchpole is no exception. As he wanders the streets, people stare as if they've never seen a stranger before. Maybe this is why Potter lives here. It's secure, safe, and hardly welcoming to outsiders.

A mother and her daughter pass him as he exits a tiny bookstore he's found. He waves them over, prepared to ask about Potter, but the woman brushes him off with a hurried apology. He fingers the edge of his wand in agitation.

If she was a witch, he may have done a simple hex or curse, but not on a Muggle. Not because he respects them, or pities them, or cares if they're injured; no, he has a clean record with the Ministry of Magic—one he intends to keep. It's easier to go unnoticed that way.

It's getting dark, and Hepler spots a tiny pub on the street corner. He takes a detour from his searching and heads inside. There are a few families and couples scattered around small tables, but the bar is nearly empty, save for one red-faced man who's well on his way to a bad morning.

Hepler takes a seat a few feet away and orders a Muggle beer. He watches the guy out of the corner of his eye, asking, "Do you live here?" The man brings a bottle to his lips and nods. "Then you know Harry Potter?"

"Don't know no Potter. I know a…a Percy. Ugly bloke, got in some trouble back with his girl a couple o' years ago. 'Er name was Mary or somethin'. Marla? Molly?"

The bartender appears with Hepler's drink and turns to the other man. "You're thinking of Peter, love. Not Percy."

The man stands, unsteady on his feet. "Yeah. 'S what I said. Peter."

XXX

Hepler wanders the streets, but he never meets Potter. He asks, even threatens on occasion, but his searches are still futile. So every night, he finds himself in a seat next to the same drunken man who tells the story of Peter (who is sometimes called Percy, sometimes called Paul, and once called William on a particularly off night).

Apparently the kid ran off in the early hours of the morning, didn't say goodbye to anybody, and ended up getting mugged and shot shortly after running away.

On the fifth night in the town, Hepler grows tired of hearing about the same boy. Finally, he asks the bartender why this is the only story the drunkard tells, and he finds out why the man drinks. Peter was his son.

XXX

It's been a week. A week of nothing, and Hepler decides it's time to leave. If Potter lives in such a small town, he surely would've come out by now. Or someone would've recognized the name and pointed him in the right direction.

He should've known Ottery St. Catchpole was a dead end. It's a Muggle town, full of people with too much time on their hands. But still, he waits. One more day, he tells himself. One more day and he'll get the breakthrough he needs.

He's right.

XXX

"Look! There 'e is!" Peter's dad, drunk as ever, points towards a redheaded man who's just entered the pub, a girl with equally striking hair trailing behind him. "I told'ja there's a guy named Percy 'round here! Percy Weasley!"

Weasley? Hepler sits up in his chair, watching the pair of redheads as they take a seat at one of the tables. Percy, clearly upset, fixes his glasses as he prattles on about his job. The girl (who Hepler assumes is the man's sister) listens with a frown. Once a waitress stops by their table, Weasley stands and makes his way to the restroom in the back of the pub.

Hepler instantly follows, waiting just outside the door. He rests his hand against the edge of his wand.

Finally, the door reopens, and Hepler steps in front of Weasley as he moves to leave. "You're Percy Weasley." The man blinks, clearly taken aback. Impatient, Hepler continues. "You know Harry Potter."

The man stands up straighter, narrowing his eyes. "Who're you?"

Weasley's smart. Smart enough to keep quiet about things that matter, at least. But the obvious look of distrust in his eyes tells Helper enough. It borders on fear, and he knows what that means; Weasley's hiding something.

Hepler doesn't bother to respond. Instead, he checks the deserted hallway to make sure they're alone, grasps his wand, and points it at Weasley. "Imperio!"

XXX

Hepler quietly follows Weasley back to his seat, and he places himself at a nearby table so he can watch his work play out. There's an airy quality to Weasley as he finds his way back to the table, but it's so subtle that no one notices the difference. Not even his sister, though by the look of it, the two aren't exactly close.

Weasley sits stiffly in his chair. "Where's Harry?"

"He's back at the house." The girl's confused, but it's obvious she doesn't suspect a thing. Apparently Potter's a common topic of discussion.

"Does he live there?" Weasley's sister doesn't answer. Instead, she sits back in her chair, watching her brother. Hepler glares at the girl, and Weasley presses for more information. "Where does he live?" Still nothing. Weasley's voice turns harsh. "Where?"

The sister stands and looks around the pub. Her gaze briefly lands on Hepler, but he doesn't flinch. She breaks eye contact. "Perce, I don't know if this is something for your job or…" Perhaps it's Hepler's imagination, but she seems to glance his way again. "I don't know. But I'm leaving."

Hepler knows he can follow her if he wants. Maybe she'll lead him straight to Potter. But without an invisibility cloak, he knows he'll never manage to make it all the way to her house undetected, wherever that may be. Even if he does, he'll never be able to beat Potter that way—too many people.

He watches the girl storm off, and once he's sure she's gone, he moves to stand in front of Weasley. "Come with me," he says.

XXX

Harry tosses a Quaffle at the goal he and Ron have set up, and Ron deflects it, grinning. He prepares to try again, pausing as he spots Percy stumbling over to the Burrow nearly an hour after an irritated Ginny returned home.

Percy approaches the two of them, holding a paper in his hand. He shoves it at Harry. "Take it."

Harry blindly accepts it, taking a step back. "What is it?"

"Read it."

Ron appears next to Harry, raising an eyebrow at his brother. "Weren't you bossy enough as Head Boy?"

Harry unfolds the paper. It's a page entitled "Symptoms of Mental and Emotional Instability" ripped out of some self-help book. He looks up at Percy. "Mental…?"

Biting back a laugh, Ron reaches for the page, and Percy swats his hand away. "Don't touch it. It's for Harry. Only for Harry."

Ron opens his mouth to shoot back a retort, but Harry doesn't listen. He flips the sheet over and finds something handwritten in neat ink on the back. He scans the note:

Potter,

On my scenic tour of a little town called Ottery St. Catchpole today, I met a pair of redheads. Imagine my surprise as someone at the bar tells me they go by the name Weasley. It's a wizard name. A pureblood name. A name I've recently read in a magazine my wife used to enjoy.

Still, the name doesn't matter, does it? It's not as famous as yours. Not as important. Not as intriguing.

I want to meet the boy behind the legend. Tomorrow at noon, you'll find me in the pub on the street corner in the middle of the town. Come alone.

It isn't signed.

Harry's mouth is dry as his arm numbly falls to his side. "Ron."

His friend doesn't respond; he's too busy telling his brother to stop acting like a git. Harry elbows him, ready to say his name more forcefully, when Percy abruptly Disapparates. Ron swears, turning to look at Harry.

"No wonder he was driving Ginny mad."

"What'd he say?" Harry's quiet, barely opening his mouth as he speaks. The letter feels heavy in his hand.

"Telling me to go off and mind my own business. Must be serious about that 'instability' stuff." Annoyed as he is, Ron clearly can't help but smirk.

"It's not the—Ron, someone's written a letter on the back. Telling me to meet them at the pub in town."

Not bothering to ask for clarification, Ron snatches the paper away, holding it in front of him to read. Once he's done, he hands it back. "Sounds like some nutter who wants an autograph." His tone is cool.

"I can't give an autograph unless I'm alone?"

"Like I said, the guy's mental." Without waiting for Harry, Ron heads inside the Burrow.

XXX

Hermione isn't as calm about the letter as Ron is, but that's to be expected. Harry can't think of a single time Ron's ever been more nervous than Hermione. Maybe when he'd been forced to wear the Horcrux and his family was at risk while Hermione's was off in Australia, but even that's something of a stretch.

Hermione holds the letter, reading it over again as she sits on Ron's bed. "You're sure it was Percy who gave it to you?"

It's difficult to keep the trace of annoyance out of his voice as Harry answers her question for the third time. "Yeah. He told me to read it, then once I did, he Disapparated."

"And he wasn't acting like himself? You're sure he didn't say who gave it to him?" Another repeat question.

"Yeah."

"Do you recognize the handwriting?"

"No."

"Did he say anything else to you?"

"No."

Harry feels as if he's being interrogated. Still, at least Hermione doesn't constantly scowl at the letter like Ron does as he sits on the floor silently.

"Which direction did he come fr—?"

"Hermione."

"Sorry. It's just…what if whoever wrote this is dangerous? Why else would they tell you to come alone? It's strange enough without Percy acting like he is."

Ron finally speaks up, his words nearly overlapping with Hermione's. "Just ignore the thing then. You're going to the Ministry tomorrow anyway. You won't be around to sign his face or whatever the hell wants from you. We'll ask Percy where he got the paper from when he's done being a prat." He frowns as Hermione looks at him, clearly thinking something over. "What?"

"Nothing." She opens her mouth and closes it again as the stairs creak just outside the room. "I'm going to ask Ginny if she saw anything." Standing up with the letter in hand, Hermione heads for the door. She turns to look at Harry seriously. "I'd stay away from Percy if I was you." She pauses, and then glances at Ron. "Both of you."