Chapter 3: A Dark Place
When Ron arrived back at the Burrow, his parents and Percy were finishing up dinner. Hermione was nowhere in sight.
"Hello Dear," said Molly, "Your dinner is in the kitchen. How was Auror training?"
"Fine, Mum. Where's Hermione?"
"Ah," said Arthur, "She's in your room. She's had a bad day at work and I'm afraid she rather blames me for it."
"Not without reason, Arthur, your pushing the poor girl far too fast," said Molly.
"I suspect that is Minister Shacklebolt's doing rather than Father's," said Percy shrewdly, but Arthur gave no indication of hearing him.
"I'm going to check on her," said Ron heading for the stairs.
Arthur called him back. "Before you go, Son, there are a few things you need to know and something we need to discuss. Please sit down."
Ron was curious about what his father had to say and was keen to tell his family about the theft but was far more concerned about Hermione. However, he reluctantly did as his father asked.
"Do you know where George is, we've been trying to contact him all evening."
"Munich, he and Angelina decided, at the last minute, to attend a conference there: Capricious Compounds and Practical Potions. He should be back in a couple of days."
"He may need to come back sooner," replied Arthur who then explained what had happened with the investigation.
Ron felt an increasing queasiness as he heard about the bank robberies. He was near apoplectic when he heard how Hoffleshead had as good as accused Hermione of interfering in the investigation to protect the Weasleys.
"That's contemptible. Who does this mushroom think he is? After all Hermione has done! In any case she had no way of knowing any Weasley product was missing. I only found out myself this afternoon." He then explained about the stolen consignment of capes.
"I didn't know that you were selling products that were proof against Muggle weapons," said Arthur
"We're not," replied Ron. "These capes were designed to protect against low level or ricocheted spells. After what happened to Dobby, George added protection against thrown knives, but bullets, no. I guess with some tweaking they could be made bulletproof, but not reliably and it wouldn't last long."
"Have you reported the theft yet?" asked Percy.
"No, I had to head off for Auror training. I told Harry, does that count?"
"I'm afraid it isn't going to be enough," said Arthur. "I have no doubt that any investigation will clear Weasley Wizard Wheezes, but our enemies are going to use this for all it's worth."
"I'm going to check on Hermione," said Ron.
"One more thing before you go, Ron. Hermione may be under the impression that you told me that her judgement in certain areas may, perhaps, be a tad suspect, especially in deciding when to take charge of a situation and when it may be wiser to hold back."
"Arthur!" said Molly.
"Bleeding Hell, Dad, she's going to kill me, why did you tell her that?"
"I misspoke. I meant to say that this was my deduction from various things you had told me over the years, and my own observations. I apologise to you and I will apologise to her when she decides to speak to me again. I don't resile from the observation though. She does need to use better judgement in exercising authority. She made some judgements today that were questionable and that made things look worse than they needed to. There are people who will jump on any mistake she makes to undermine her position. We need her too much to allow that to happen. Now go, Son, and take care of that wonderful girl of yours."
Ron needed no encouragement. He quickly climbed the stairs to their room and then, after taking a deep breath, opened the door.
"Go away," said Hermione.
"No," said Ron. He could feel Hermione's eyes bore into him as he crossed the room and sat on the end of the bed, facing her. "I hear you had a rough day, do you want to talk about it."
"What, so you can go and tell your Father how inappropriately I handled the situation?"
"I didn't say anything to Dad," said Ron calmly, firmly.
"That's not what he says." Her nostrils flared.
"I know, I'll let him explain that. I'm more concerned about you."
Hermione continued to glare at Ron, then abruptly her gaze softened and her chin began to quiver. "Oh, Ron, they all hate me."
Ron shimmied beside Hermione and took her in his arms. "No they don't, love, no they don't"
He held her tightly as she cried a little, and then little by little, he got her to laugh as he described his visit from Soong Huang Fu and his dealings with the Flower Petal Trading Company and their impeccable manners and impenetrable obfuscation.
They fell asleep in each other's arms and then, at one in the morning, they woke up ravenous and raided the kitchen. They talked through in detail the events of the previous day.
"You'll see," concluded Ron, "This will all blow over in a day or two. It's just a storm in a teacup."
When they returned to their bed, they made love and then slept soundly through the rest of the night.
They woke to the sound of Percy banging on their door. "Come on you two, it's a work day, the early wizard gets the Flobberworm."
"What does that even mean?" asked Ron of no one in particular.
When Ron and Hermione arrived downstairs for breakfast, Percy was scowling at the morning paper. "It seems that Father was right." He turned the paper so Ron and Hermione could read the headline of the Daily Prophet:
"Weasley link to Muggle killing spree," it declared in large bold letters.
"Bleeding hell," said Ron.
oOo
Captain Paul Longstreet watched the video footage for the fifth time. He had been tasked with writing an urgent report for his superior officers and for the Minister of Defence explaining how, in broad daylight, one of the British army's most secure military bases had been penetrated by persons unknown who, unseen by anyone, loaded three lorries full of some of the deadliest equipment in the army's inventory, including a dozen of the new Starstreak handheld anti-aircraft missiles, and calmly driven away without anyone noticing until, twenty minutes later, the remaining munitions exploded destroying at least a third of the base. Thank God most of the regiment were away on training manoeuvres, or the death toll would have been much higher than the current figure of eleven.
The footage made no more sense on the fifth viewing as it did on the first. He could see the lorries driven from the motor pool to the munitions loading dock. Then nothing, the lorries just stood there. No driver exited, nothing appeared to be loaded. However, when the lorries move half an hour later, another camera shows the trucks fully laden. As the lorries approach the main exit, the guards appear to be jerked backwards by an invisible force and dragged back into the guardhouse. The gates open and the lorries simply drive off serenely with no alarm raised. The gate guards were later found with their throats slit. It was likely that the staff in the munitions store had met the same fate, but after the explosion, very little evidence of that remained.
Captain Longstreet wondered if his career would survive if he wrote a report claiming that the base had been attacked by invisible assailants.
oOo
"Now, make sure you keep the lid on till you give the jar to your husband, Mrs Gamut," said Ron to the elderly witch who had just brought a trick jar of peanuts, "otherwise you'll never coax the ogre back into the jar."
"Don't worry, young man. I haven't lost my wits yet," she replied, as she stuffed the jar into an old tapestry bag.
"I bet she hasn't lost her wits," said Verity when the old witch had left the store, "though I think she might intend her husband to lose his." Verity smiled. "You better watch out Ron, you might be up on accessory to murder charges."
Ron laughed. "Just what I need at the moment, more trouble with the law."
The sharp clap of apparition, from right in the middle of the store, announced George's return.
"So, little brother, why have I been so rudely summoned with such graceless urgency. I had to forego a very interesting discussion on the use of fermented polliwogs in enhancing daydream potions."
"You know, George, one day you are going to cause a serious accident, apparating into the centre of the shop while it's open.
"Excessive caution is the hallmark of a small mind, or, in the case of your girlfriend, it's very opposite. Now why am I here?"
"Well, I suggest you change out of that Chinese costume to start with," said Ron who then briefed George on the situation. "At Dad's suggestion, both Hermione and I went into to MLE this morning to make formal depositions. We were each grilled for an hour. Not much fun. I promised to return this afternoon with copies of all our correspondence with the Flower Petal Trading Company and you."
"Then you better fetch the file, and then we can go in and put an end to this farce."
"Already have them," said Ron, holding up a satchel.
They both apparated to the Ministry and headed to the second the floor. The MLE office was in an uproar, loud conversations, people running in all directions. There were twice the number of people compared to when Ron had been there in the morning.
"What's going on," asked Ron of the welcome witch while they waited for Hoffleshead to see them.
The welcome witch made an exaggerated show of looking around to make sure no one was watching, also making sure that Ron got a good look at her cleavage. "There's been a Muggle terrorist attack on a UK army base using invisibility cloaks, or the like. Minister Shacklebolt is furious. He's demanding answers yesterday."
"Good thing we don't sell those," said George in an aside to Ron.
A few moments later they were both shown into Hoffleshead's office. Ron immediately noticed an crumpled invisibility cloak lying on Hoffleshead's desk. It was much cruder than Harry's, but would probably due a rough and ready job.
"I see you recognise this item, Mr Weasley."
"Of course, I've seen invisibility cloaks before, though this one is a bit rough and ready," replied Ron cautiously as he and George sat down.
"Perhaps you or your brother could explain how it was found at a Muggle Army base."
"Not a clue," replied George, "Shoddy work though. Whoever made it should be arrested on those grounds alone."
"Oh, we know who made it, it has their label inside, your label Mr George Weasley."
"Nonsense, we don't sell them," he replied.
"Obviously whoever stole our protective capes has simply swapped the label," said Ron
"Stolen from the mythical Flower Petal Trading Company," said Hoffleshead.
"Mythical, there is nothing mythical about them." Ron handed Hoffleshead the Flower Petal Trading Company correspondencefile.
"What is this?" asked Hoffleshead angrily. He threw the file into Ron's face, the contents of the file spilling out, spreading out all over the floor. Every single sheet was a blank, and as white a Ron's now blood drained face.
"Do you really hold us in such contempt, Mr Weasley?" continued Hoffleshead. "Today we visited the London offices of the Flower Petal Trading Company, which you assured me you had visited several times. Imagine our surprise when we found a long abandoned warehouse instead of a busy office. Everyone in the neighbourhood assured us the site had been empty for some time."
"We have clearly been set up," said Ron, saying the first thing that came to his mind as he struggled to get on top of his shock.
"If I had a galleon for every cornered criminal who said that to me, I'd be as wealthy as the Malfoys." He turned to George. "I understand you are the owner of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes."
"Yes, and I can assure you_"
"And are you the sole proprietor, Mr Weasley?"
George hesitated, "Well no, Ron, here, is a twenty per cent owner." Ron noted that George didn't mention Harry's five percent stake.
At a nod from Hoffleshead, two large wizards entered the room and stood behind George."
"Mr George Weasley, I am arresting you for conspiracy to supply dangerous magical goods to Muggles. Please hand me your wand."
Ron immediately jumped up, his hand instinctively reaching for his own wand, but George put a restraining hand on him. "It's OK, just tell Dad what's happened. We are innocent and it will work out."
George carefully drew out his wand and handed it to Hoffleshead. "Take good care of it, officer. Be warned, you have to sing it a lullaby in Mermish each night or it might turn into an Erumpent horn and explode. Best to do that underwater while you are taking a bath."
Hoffleshead just shook his head, saying to the two wizards standing behind George, "Take him away."
Hoffleshead turned to Ron. "As you are a member of the Wizengamot, I cannot arrest you without a warrant from the Wizengamot criminal affairs subcommittee. I assure you that is just a formality, though it may take a couple of days. I will also be forwarding charges against that smart little witch of yours for tampering with evidence and attempting to pervert the course of justice. So both of you enjoy the next two days, they may well be the last two days of freedom you two have for some years. Now get out of my sight."
Ron, not trusting himself to speak, stood up and staggered out of the office.
oOo
Susan's knees ached, her face was clammy and cold and she still felt nauseous. She sucked in deep draughts of fresh air into her lungs attempting to defeat the urge to be sick all over again. When her stomach had settled, Susan opened her eyes only to realise they were already open and she was in total darkness.
She forced herself to breathe steadily, deeply, slowly bringing under control the panic that had threatened to overcome her. Wherever she was, the darkness was almost complete. Even with her hand just inches from her eyes she could barely discern its outline.
Feeling around on the bare stone floor, careful to avoid the invisible yellow puddle she had made in front of her, she started to examine her immediate surroundings.
Warily, Susan got to her feet and expanded her area of exploration, pushing back against the dark induced disorientation and the nagging sense she was walking around in circles. Twice she stumbled and fell, aggravating her damaged knees, which she was sure were bloodied and grazed under her blue jeans. The second time she came up against the wall, she took of her belt and lay it down on the floor as a marker and, hugging the wall, circumnavigated her new domain. Further systematic searching and Susan knew she was in a circular room with stone walls and floors with only a rickety old table and an empty wooden crate for company.
Nowhere could she make out a door or any opening and that frightened her as much as anything else. She guessed there must be an opening in the ceiling, but she couldn't see to confirm that, nor could she reach it. She knew she had to stand up on the table and explore the ceiling, it might be the only way she could get out, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. She was afraid the table would collapse or she would stumble in the dark and come crashing down on hard stone.
Instead, she sat down on the cold floor, her back to the wall, determined to think through her situation, but no thoughts came. Her arms fell slack by her side and tears welled up from her very depths. No, I won't cry, I won't give up. Susan jumped up and shoved the table against the wall. Gingerly she climbed up on it and, hugging the wall, slowly stood. Even on tip toes she couldn't reach the ceiling.
Numb now, trying not to think, she climbed down, felt around the room till she found the crate and pushed it over to the table. It was surprisingly heavy, but she got it up onto the table and against the wall. It overturned the first time she tried to climb on to it, almost throwing her onto the floor. She steadied her breathing and again climbed onto the crate. She still couldn't reach the ceiling.
Carefully she climbed down and, once more, slumped down on the floor.
This time she did cry.
She must have slept. When she opened her eyes it seemed as if there was just a little light in the room. Was she imagining it? No, high above her head a narrow shaft of light brought faint illumination and she could now just discern the high stone vault of the ceiling. She would have needed three crates to reach it, and all to no avail. She could see no trapdoor or any opening anywhere on the ceiling or the high walls.
It was still very dim in her stone cell and it did not brighten any further as morning progressed. Susan realised she was hungry and very thirsty, but there was no food or drink. She could well die in here if no one came to get her, but did anyone even know she was here? She didn't even know how she got here. All she could remember was touching that ridiculous stick her scumbag cousin Mundungus had sent her and, wham, she was here.
Did Mundungus know she was here, would he come for her. No, he said he was traveling. She broke out into hysterical laughter. The image of Mundungus as a knight in shining armour was as ludicrous as it was sickening.
With nothing better to do, she studied the floor, seeing if she could find any pattern in the faint patches of light and dark. There was a long stain on the floor that didn't fit. It dawned on her it was the stick that was the cause of her problems. Maybe if it brought her here it would take her back. Or to somewhere far worse? But what did she have to lose. She crossed the room and, with both hands picked it up and held it tightly. Nothing happened.
She paced furiously up and done and then swore when she stubbed her toe on the table leg. "Damn it, if only I had some effing illumination."
She was shocked when a tiny ball of light emerged from the tip of the stick. She laughed when it occurred to her that the little ball of light looked like the star at the end of a fairies wand. Swish, "Abracadabra, Open Sesame," but, of course, nothing happened. So much for the magic wand theory, she smiled. She recalled the old saying that sufficiently advanced technology was indistinguishable from magic. Outside of Science Fiction, she had never heard of any technology that transported you instantly form one place to another or could read your mind and give you the light you wanted, and all packaged into such a tiny implement.
Was that what this was, an alien artefact from an advanced civilisation? No wonder Mundungus was 'travelling'. If it had gone missing from some secret government lab and somehow fallen into Mundungus's grubby little paws, the heat would really be on.
So, she had this marvellous alien 'magic' wand. Fat good it did her, she had no idea how to use it. At least she could see, but the room was exactly as she had envisaged it, with no way out.
There was one new thing. On the wall someone had etched a tic-tac-toe grid. They had even placed an X in the top left hand cell. On a whim she touched the cell below the X with her wand. She jumped back in surprise when an O appeared where she had tapped the wall. Almost immediately another X appeared, placed in the centre of the grid. So you want to play. She blocked the corner position but lost the game two moves later. Immediately there was a loud grinding sound that made her cringe and, slowly, the walls closed in one foot on every side.
"Don't expect me to play that again," she said out loud, but the grid cleared and started flashing. After a minute, with no action coming from Susan, the flashing stopped. The grinding started and the walls moved in another foot. An X appeared on the grid.
Susan drew the next two games but then lost again and the walls closed in even further. Susan knew there was a way of always forcing a draw in tic-tac-toe and, her mind wonderfully concentrated, she worked it out. For the next hour it was draw after draw with Susan growing ever more despondent. Was she going to spend the rest of her life playing tic-tac-toe with this insane wall until she finally fell asleep and it crushed her to death?
A few games later the wall made a mistake.
Hope fired up in Susan. Maybe when I win, the wall will open up and I can get away. With a flourish of her wand, she made the winning move. All of a sudden she was unsteady on her feet and almost lost her balance She looked down to see she was rapidly sinking into the floor. It had turned into a quicksand like cement. She frantically tried to grab something, but there was nothing to grab. The table was too far away and in any case was sinking also. Her lower body was now completely sunk into the floor and she could feel it's wet icy sucking grip. When she had sunk in up to her neck, she cursed Mundungus and then, in horror that her last act would be a curse, Susan said a final prayer.