Hey everyone, I'm back and far more quickly than I usually am too. I think I have figured out the typing with one hand thing.

Thanks for the support, it means alot. And thanks to Hannapat for beta-ing this for me.

Arthur ran to his front step as fast as he possibly could, and slamming the front door with alarming force behind him as he entered the sanctuary of his home. There he stood, in the middle of his dimly lit kitchen, panting heavily as he tried to regain his breath.

As his breathing slowed, Arthur ran a shaking hand over his face, both to wipe away the sweat on his forehead and to ensure that he had not splinchedhimself in his hasty apparition.

The art of disappearing in one place and reappearing in another was a testy process and took a large amount of concentration to do correctly. Often if it was done by someone who did not know what they were doing or by someone in a rush, it could have rather destructive results, including leaving body parts in the place you had just left: splinching.

It seemed however, that Arthur had managed to avoid such painful results. He had been in an indescribable rush when he had disapparated from his office that evening, desperate to get home to his family and to contact Professor Dumbledore. Normally, Arthur would not have disapparated home at all, for the loud noise tended to draw muggles (non magic-users) to the area. Apparently it sounded similar to a dangerous weapon that muggles often used.

Arthur looked around the dark kitchen. Seeing that it was empty, Arthur's breathing quickened for a moment in fear. It passed though, as he noticed the charmed pot scrubber washing a frying pan in the sink and a carefully covered plate of food that was left on the rough kitchen table for him. Arthur's mouth watered as the delicious smell washed over him, but he shook his head. Now was not the time to be worrying about food.

Arthur moved quickly through the bare doorframe at the other end of the house, and walked into the living room. A large fire was blazing in the brick fireplace, bathing the room in warmth and calmly flickering light.

On one of the couches in the room sat Molly. She was knitting by hand for once, a look of concentration and contentment on her plump face as she counted the stitches in the maroon wool.

At Molly's feet lay their youngest child, Ginny. She was flat on her stomach, a pack of Exploding Snap cards in front of her as she stacked them carefully into a card tower that stood over her head. Ginny's face looked even more intensely concentrated than her mother's—perhaps rightly so—as the tower she was building was capable of exploding at any given moment.

It was at moments like these that Arthur was surprised at how similar the women looked, despite Molly's brown hair and Ginny's red, and a few other distinct features their daughter had inherited from her father.

Looking around the room, Arthur stomach dropped as he released that Molly and Ginny where the only other people in the large room. None of his sons were currently staying at home; four of them were at school for the year, while the two eldest were both working abroad.

Molly looked up form her knitting and a small smile spread across her kind face as she set the wool and needles down on the couch. "There you are!" she exclaimed as her husband moved closer to the firelight. "I was getting worried about you. A little note saying 'I'm late' doesn't do much good, Arthur. I thought that at least made sen…"

Molly's affectionately mocking voice trailed off as she caught a glimpse of her husband's disturbed expression.

Molly stood up, the now-forgotten knitting spilling to the floor. Her eyes flashed to the only other occupant in the room, who was staring at her parents with a confused expression.

"Ginny, bed—now!"

Ginny's head lifted as she looked directly at her mother, still confused and curious about what had caused the sudden change in the atmosphere.

"But mom! You said I could stay up until 11:00! It's only 9:30." Ginny said, trying to win herself more time by playing the promise card. She wanted to know what was happening, and almost as important, her card tower was higher than she had ever gotten it, almost as tall as her brother had managed to get it before he had left for school two months ago.

Ginny met her mother's eyes, ready to fight her cause. Her parents were talking about something important, and Ginny wanted to know what. But when she finally met Molly's eyes, Ginny felt herself shrinking slightly away from her mother's severe look. Any argument that had previously been hanging on the tip of her tongue was now gone.

"Now Ginny!"

A small squeak slipped through Ginny's lips as she quickly pulled herself up from the ground, hastily grabbing her cards as she want. Her mother could be quite intimidating if she wanted to be.

Ginny looked over her shoulder at the living room door that had been shut behind knew there was little point in sitting outside the door to try and get information. Her mother had more than likely put a silencing charm on it before Ginny was even fully outside.

Shifting the cards in her hands into a easier to hold position, Ginny slowly made her way up the stairs, heading to her bedroom, and feeling none too happy about it. If only

Fred and George were still here, she thought. They would have come up with someway to listen in on what Mom and Dad where talking about!

But they weren't here, so Ginny would have to deal with not having any information. Maybe if she was lucky, Dad would be willing to explain this to her in the morning.

Her chances were slim, but it was good to be optimistic sometimes…

Molly slowly closed the door behind her as her daughter left the room. Carefully, she pulled out her wand and muttered a quick spell under her breath, placing a silencing charm on the plain wooden door.

She hated to do this to Ginny, but from the look on Arthur's face, this was going to be difficult enough to deal with without the presence of an impressionable 10 year old in the room.

When Molly journeyed back into the center of the room, she noticed that Arthur had not moved from his spot in the kitchen doorway. It was almost as if he was frozen solid, staring blankly at the fireplace.

Molly walked towards her shaken husband, and carefully led him over to the couch she had previously been sitting on. Arthur went with her without hesitation, but his only movement was to place one foot in front of the other.

Once her husband was seated on the couch, Molly reached over the side of the couch and grabbed the knitted Afghan she had finished a few weeks ago and draped it over his shoulders. She noticed happily that Arthur's hands went up to grab at the blanket and tug it closer around himself. That was something.

Sitting down beside her husband, Molly placed a hand on the square of his back, rubbing it in small comforting circles. The muscles felt incredibly tense under her hand, and she could feel each and every single knot that had formed under the skin during his time at work.

"Arthur, dear, what happened?"

The silence in the room was deafening. For a long moment they just sat on the couch together. Molly didn't press him after her original question. He would tell her when he was ready. That was all she could ask for.

Slowly, Arthur's breathing started to become more regular and he started to relax up against Molly. She smiled slightly some of the worry from earlier washed away; her husband was finally starting to return.

"I need to talk to Dumbledore."

It was the only thing that Arthur said, and it was not what Molly had been expecting.

So surprised was she that she whipped her head around in surprise at the sudden statement. The hand that was resting on Arthur's back moved slowly until it was resting on his chin, tilting Arthur's face to Molly's direction.

"Why?" Molly breathed, watching her husband's usually expressive face intently for any reaction. His eyes remained blank. He was shaking slightly, and his fists were clenched so tightly in his lap that Molly could see the whites of his knuckles showing through the skin.

"Arthur, what's wrong?" She pleaded. Arthur just shook his head, slowly standing up from the couch, and moving to the fire place. "I… I… it's hard to explain Molly, and I know I won't be able to do so twice. Fudge has done something that I didn't think he could ever do. He won't budge either… I…I… It was horrible, Molly, barbaric. I haven't seen anything like it since You-Know-Who, and to see it from our side…" Arthur broke off with a shudder, and for a moment Molly was afraid that he had closed himself off to her again, but he seemed to be alright for the moment.

Molly nodded as she too stood up. "Are you just going to talk to him from the fireplace, or are you going to head down to Hogwarts? Probably straight to Hogwarts. It takes far less floo powder, and I am sure that it's easier to talk to people when you're not getting ashes in your mouth. Should we bring something? It is pretty late to be going to visit someone, already 20:00. I know! If you wait a minute I will make a spot of tea for us to bring. That would seem more polite."

And with that she was gone, bustling into the kitchen. Arthur could hear the scrape of tea cups, and the sound of boiling water. He could wait for a second. Mind you, could wait was not the best term to be used when dealing with his wife. Better to say he would wait.

A chill ran up his spine as Arthur stood there, staring at the warm crackling fire in front of him. He held out his hands to the welcoming heat, letting it wash over him. That did little to help him however, as the cold feeling in his body refused to leave. It was odd to have one's body warm up, yet to feel so sick and cold on the inside. Even now, the thought of that teen screaming on that table came to mind. Arthur found himself having to force down another wave of nausea.

Slowly the impending feeling of being sick receded, although the image in his brain did not leave. The living room seemed to leave as Arthur saw the teen look at him again. Those fever-bright eyes drove into his skull, and with them came a wave of indescribable emotions, ones he did not and could not recognize as his own:

Desperation.

Possession.

Devotion.

Fear.

Agony.

Loneliness.

Love…

He was left with the sensation of anger: indescribably, impossibly intense fury. It filled up his entire body, leaving him numb to everything else as the boy's screams echoed through his mind, adding fuel to the fire. Suddenly that uncontrollable feeling of anger felt so right… more so than it ever had before.

"ARTHUR!"

Arthur blinked slightly, shaking his head as he looked around to the sudden shout in his ear. There, standing in front of him, was Molly, her expression concerned and confused as she looked up at him. "Arthur? Are you alright?"

"Sorry Molly, I must have zoned out slightly."

"More than just slightly, Arthur. I've been yelling in your ear for a minute now."

Arthur blinked, thinking through Molly's words. That had to be exagerration. Yet everything that he had been feeling for the last couple of minutes had disappeared, leaving only a lingering sensation that they had existed in the first place.

"Arthur, dear? Are you sure that you are up to going tonight? I'm sure that whatever this is can wait until tomorrow."

"NO!"

Molly jumped back as Arthur's voice rose to an uncharacteristicly high volume. They had been married for years now, and never before had Molly seen her husband snap like that. It was startling to say the least. Arthur's chest was heaving as he stood in the middle of the room, and his eyes gleamed with a light that Molly had never seen before, something she didn't want to name.

Her husband seemed to be just as taken aback by the sudden outburst as she was. He blinked rapidly for a moment as he calmed down. His eyes seemed to lose that dangerous gleam, and instead grew wide in shock and surprise. "Molly… I'm so sorry." He breathed, shock evident in his voice. "I don't know what came over me. Why on earth did I snap like that?"

Molly just shook her head, charming the tray of tea and cookies to float to her side before walking to the fireplace and grabbing a decorated flower pot that stood on the mantle piece. The flickering light from the glowing fire shone onto the contents, reflecting on the powdery substance inside.

"No dear, don't worry about it. Whatever this is has obviously put you under a lot of stress and it was wrong of me to ask you to wait, since you're so worried." Even though it was a sincere apology from Molly's end, the words she used clearly stated that the conversation had just come to an end.

A quickly scrawled note was left for Ginny, magically attached to the doorway that Molly had un-charmed and unlocked. It told their daughter that they had to run to Hogwarts for a few minutes, and that they would be home as soon as they could.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley stood by the fire, Molly holding the flower pot in her grip.

"Here you go Arthur." she said, holding the pot out to her husband. "You'll have to take your hand out of your pocket dear."

Arthur looked down, noticing that his hand was indeed clenched tightly in the pocket of his slightly haggard-looking cloak. He didn't remember when he had even placed his hand there. Sheepishly, he pulled his hand out from the confines of his pocket, hearing a loud clinking sound as he did so.

Molly must have heard it to, as she looked around, trying to find the source of the noise. "Just a Knut in my pocket." Arthur said smoothly, patting his hand to his pocket with his hand to recreate the clinking noise. His pocket jingled again, and Molly nodded in agreement.

Arthur dug his hand into the flower pot, taking a small handful of the powder. As he lifted it up from the pot, some floo powder slipped from between his fingers like sand. Arthur paid it no heed however, instead throwing the substance into the fireplace

As soon as the substance hit the fire, the flames doubled shot up, filling the entire fireplace and turning a brilliant shade of green. No longer did the heat burn at their faces; instead, a gentle warmth started to caress their skin. Taking a deep breath, Arthur stepped past the mantle, and into the roaring green fire. He could hear the wood and ash crunch beneath his feet, and the smoke stung his eyes as he shouted

"Hogwarts, Dumbledore's office!"

A loud whoosh echoed throughout the room, and Arthur felt himself being lifted off the ground and into the air. He tucked his elbows in tightly as he entered the chimney and began to spin faster and faster. Lights whizzed past him so fast that he began to feel dizzy, and Arthur squeezed his eyes shut.

Eventually he started to slow down, and before he had entirely managed to stop spinning, Arthur lurched forward. He stumbled, unable to completely keep his footing after the sudden stop. The only reason he managed to stay on his feet was the fact their family used the floo network as major form of transportation. The ability to move from one fireplace to another was incredibly useful when half the family couldn't yet apparate.

When Arthur opened his eyes again, he found himself in the large circular office of the Hogwart's headmaster. As per usual the room was decorated with the portraits of the previous headmasters and mistress. At this hour, most of the paintings where sound asleep in their frames, their snoring the only audible sound in the room. Several of the portraits had awoken however; it seemed that Arthur's sudden arrival had jolted some of the lighter sleeping headmasters awake, and they were now staring at the new arrival with different levels of confusion, curiousity and amusement.

Arthur ignored them as he stepped into the cluttered room, leaving room for Molly to appear from the fire place behind him. As he waited, Arthur was able to look around the room, taking in the shelves of odd little trinkets and artifacts. The sorting hat still sat on the top shelf on one such shelf, as tattered as it had been when Arthur had been sorted into Gryffindor when he first arrived to Hogwarts.

Again Arthur found himself surveying the room, finding himself lost in the large, and rather memorable room. Even trying to classify half the objects in this room was a feat all on its own. Then, as Arthur found himself staring at the large phoenix that was staring at him from its perch by Albus' desk, that feeling of irritation came back at full force. Why was he just standing here when that teen needed him?

A loud roaring sound from the back of the room soon signified Molly's arrival, but Arthur paid his wife little head. Instead his eyes quickly searched for one of the portraits that he recognized.

"Professor Dippet!" Arthur yelled, looking straight at the portrait that was closest to Albus' chair. Dippet had been the headmaster when Arthur had gone to school. His shout quickly startled the slumbering professor awake, nearly causing him to fall out of the comfortable looking armchair he had been sleeping in.

"Whaa?" The elderly man said, lurching forward in an undignified manner as he tried to wake himself up. Arthur knew that it was late; that he should probably be more patient with the painting, but something was holding the rational part of him back at the moment.

"Professor! I need you to get Albus for me! It's an emergency!" He snapped at Dippet, watching as the aged man's face flickered from a half-awake stupor into concerned confusion. The previous headmaster did not ask any questions, or even give a greeting of any kind before he darted from the frame and disappeared, probably into another painting.

Molly was beside Arthur as soon as the painted man had disappeared. "That wasn't very polite dear." She breathed, setting the tea onto a wooden table. "He would have helped you just as well without the snapping. This isn't like you Arthur."

"I know Molly, and I'm sorry. I just feel on edge all of a sudden, like things cannot happen quickly enough."

Molly looked as if she wanted to say something in response, but before she was able to, the sound of a door slamming jolted all of their attention to the desk at the back of the room and the intricately carved door behind it.

Standing in the doorway was Albus Dumbledore in all his glory. His hair and beard were as long as Arthur remembered them to be, and those bright blue eyes still twinkled merrily behind half moon spectacles.

Slowly, Albus swept into his office, his deep purple robes trailing on the ground.

Arthur felt himself release a sigh of relief, realizing that the headmaster in no way looked as if he had just been dragged out of bed. He was till fully dressed, and wearing a pointed hat in the same colour of robes, stitched with an unrecognizable silver symbol.

Behind him entered Hogwarts Transfiguration teacher, Minerva McGonagall. Her lips were set into a stern line, expression a deep contrast to the carefree look that Albus presented.

"Ah, Arthur, nice to see you. And Molly too, always a pleasure." Albus said, moving forward to take Molly's hand within his own and kiss the back of it lightly in an almost forgotten form of chivalry.

A large smile spread across Molly's face, Dumbledore's presence instantly lightening the mood. "It's nice to see you to Albus. I hope that we are not being a nuisance, calling on you at this time of night. I feel terribly guilty, but Arthur was determined to come and see you the moment he came home."

Albus chuckled, moving to his desk and sitting in the large, comfy looking wooden chair that stood behind it. "Not a worry my dear. Minerva and I were already up discussing the ban on fanged Frisbees. Something's are just too important to leave. So why don't I draw you all up a chair and we can enjoy that lovely tea that you brought? I must say that it smells absolutely exquisite."

With a flick of his wrist and a swish of his wand, three more chairs materialized. Molly instantly sunk into her own, feeling it rub against her arms and reveling in the soft material. She was incredibly comfortable.

Minerva sat down on Molly's right, as dignified as ever. Even as the thin woman sunk into the chairs cushions she managed to stay straight-backed and perfectly poised before pulling out her wand, and dragging the table with Molly's tea over in between them both.

Arthur refused to sit down in his own chair, choosing to stand stiffly off to the side, with his arms crossed tightly across his chest. At that moment, he didn't look like

Molly's husband in the slightest. It was as if he was another man entirely.

This did not go unnoticed by the other people in the room. One of Albus' eyebrows rose into his long white hair and Molly exchanged a concerned glance. Slowly, Albus leaned forward to rest his elbows against the desk, and lean his head against his open palm.

"What is it that you wanted to talk about Arthur?"

The Arthur's head turned to Albus, his back perfectly straight and his arms remaining crossed. Arthur's brown eyes flashed in the light, giving off a feeling almost similar to that of solid ice.

When he spoke, Molly was positive that she could feel the entire room freeze over. "I got a message from the Minister for Magic this evening, asking me to meet him in the Auror's office tonight after work. He said he had a job for me."

Albus nodded as Arthur's voice trailed off for a moment. His blue were focussed intently on Arthur's own and for a moment the room was silent, everyone watching as Arthur tried to find the correct words to describe what had happened.

"It was then that I was intruded to the new department that Fudge has set up within the Ministry. United Protection he called it, and even after dealing with his extended bragging session, I have little to no idea as to what their original purpose was. Yet…"

Again Arthur paused, his mouth opening and closing quickly as he tried to speak. But the words just caught on his tongue, refusing to come out. How was he to describe what he had seen?

Arthur's fist clenched tightly. He could feel his finger nails cutting into the soft flesh of his palm. "I…" he said, tone containing nothing of its previous fire and vindication.

"They're… holding someone… someone they arrested, but kidnapped would be a far better word. And the things they…were doing…"

From there, Arthur knew that he could get no further, for even trying to say anything caused that anger to once again bubble in the pit of his stomach. Suddenly he was so livid that breathing became difficult.

Why was he here, when he should be helping that child?

Albus watched Arthur closely from behind his desk. It didn't take any skill to realize that something was wrong with the man. Every muscle in Arthur's body was as tight as a dragon heart string, and his left hand was clenched in his pocket, wrapped tightly around some small object. Not only that, but all the colour looked like it had long since left Arthur's face, turning his skin grey under all the freckles.

"Breathe, Arthur." Minerva said. Her voice was serious and clipped, as if she was speaking to a panicking student, but there was an underlying element of concern to it. She flicked her eyes over to Albus, the unspoken question hanging heavily in the air.

Albus winked to his deputy headmistress, showing that he had everything under control, before turning his attention back to the couple in front of him. Molly had left the chair, and was now standing beside her husband, rubbing her hand up and down his arm; whispering softly.

"Arthur, why don't we try something else?" Albus said calmly, trying not to aggravate the other man any more than necessary. Arthur's head whipped around so fast that several bones in his neck cracked in an unhealthy way.

The deep burrow between Arthur's eyebrows deepened as his scowl grew. "What do you mean by different?" he snapped dangerously. From over Arthur's shoulder, Albus could see the apologetic glance Molly sent their way, and the shrug showing that she had no idea what was going on.

Albus pressed on, "You remember my pensieve don't you? We could just put your memory of what you saw tonight inside, and it will show us what really happened." he said calmly, taking one last sip from his tea, before stepping up from his desk and opening the large cabinet pressed against one of the side walls.

Even though Albus blocked most of their view, Arthur could see the light blue glow that had erupted into the room when the door was open. Cautiously he walked to wards where Albus was standing, trying to figure out why he was being so hesitant about this. It was not the first time he had done this kind of thing with Albus, his pensieve being the perfect way to get the most accurate of retellings. Yet everything in Arthur's body was screaming at him not to trust anything that tampered with his mind.

This part will have to be delicate. Albus thought, reaching into his robe pocket to grab his wand. Arthur followed the movement closely, with all the appearance of a cornered lion: eyes wary, muscles tensed, and fingers twitching towards his own pocket. Delicate in deed.

"Arthur, take a deep breath, and try to recall everything you saw with the Minister. Just focus on that, nothing else."

The voice edged at the very corner of Arthur's hearing and he tried to do what he was told, fighting the urge to refuse as the images resurfaced. When the events of the night were at the front of his mind, Arthur nodded to the headmaster.

Noting the movement, Albus placed his wand to the side of Arthur's head, pressing the tip through the hair until it rested on his scalp. Arthur twitched slightly at the contact, and his fists were clenched so tightly they shook. He managed to stay still thoguh, as Albus pulled the wand away, a single stream of silver thread attached to the end of it.

Pulling the wand and the string into the air in a delicate arch, Albus pulled the memory to the large stone basin that stood in the cabinet, pushing the it inside. The silver and blue material that was neither liquid nor gas swirled as the new memory was introduced to those already inside. The string shifted inside trying to mix itself in with all the other memories, and as it did, the material changed, taking the form of the white walls of the united protection agency.

Bile rose into Arthur's throat as he watched the events of the evening once more. All the people Fudge had dragged into his United Protection program. The large office, highest of technology. Those men laying prone on their beds, either soulless, or left in a permanent nightmare. Then the child.

Arthur couldn't watch anymore at this piont, and he tore his eyes away from the pensieve. From the side he noticed that Minerva had gone pale, and her expression had finally shifted from stern indifference to shocked revulsion. As the teen's scream echoed around the room, Molly let out a loud echoing sob from Arthur's other side. Tears had started to gather beneath her eyes.

Reaching out, Arthur grabbed Molly's shoulder, pulling her into a comforting one-armed hug. It was something the woman obviously needed, and Molly complied instantly. That's when Arthur looked back, staring at the captive teen as his back arced against the hard table he was tied to. The poor child was screaming as if there was no tomorrow. Right then, Arthur wanted to kick that stupid basin off the cabinet, spill its contents onto the floor. He wanted to fight something, hurt something! Make someone pay for the atrocity that he had witnessed.

The image in the basin faded to black.

Everyone stood in shock as Arthur's memory suddenly disappeared into the inky abyss. Even Albus appeared surprised as he stared at his pensieve with a quirked eyebrow.

The new black shade seemed to be more than just a colour, however. It seemed almost to be alive, trying to reach out to the edge of the basin, and spill over to the floor.

Mixed with purple and blue, it struggled, and for a moment seemed to reach over the top and grab out at Arthur. Arthur just stood there, staring ahead. His eyes seemed to have taken on a red glow.

Albus whipped out his wand, pointing it at the cabinet door and slamming it shut. The doors closed instantly, shutting down the magic of the pensieve and in turn anything that was trying to get out of it.

Arthur blinked as the door was closed, and Molly squeaked slightly as the arm around her tightened to a painful level. He looked at his wife for a minute, before stepping away from Molly as if he had been burnt.

It was then that Albus noticed Arthur's hand was pressed tightly into his pocket. He was clutching something that seemed to be wider than his wand. By now, Arthur had walked back into the corner of the room, keeping his back to the wall.

"What the?!" Minerva said, jumping away from where Arthur stood and staring at the man. It almost seemed as if the shadows cast by the firelight had started to sweep at Arthur's feet and were now dancing at his boots.

It was then that Albus took action, the merry look gone from his eyes. He pointed his wand at Arthur's chest as the latter looked up, giving them all a wicked looking smirk with his now blood red eyes.

"ACCIO!" Albus yelled, pointing his wand at Arthur's left pocket, causing the material to rip as whatever was in Arthur's pocket was dragged out. Arthur let a yell in surprise and stumbled back, landing on his rump in the corner.

The object flew into Albus' hand, and he changed the spell causing it to hang in mid air. A single gold puzzle piece hovered in the air, glowing brightly even though there was not enough light to catch on the entirety of the smooth metal. In the center, a stylized eye was carved delicately into the metal. It seemed to stare at them as it revolved slowly. It was highly unnerving.

Albus slowly lowered the piece of metal onto the wooden surface of his desk, where it landed with a light clank. The golden glow still had not left the puzzle piece, but it seemed to be dimming slowly, which was definitely a good thing.

"Arthur, where did you get this from?" Albus' tone was sharp, and Arthur looked up from one of the chairs which his wife had forced him into. It took a few minutes for him to respond, and when he did his voice was slow and exhausted.

"It's one of the objects that Fudge brought me in to look at," Arthur sighed, but smiled in a comforting manner as Molly placed a hand on his shoulder in worry. Shifting, Arthur moved his own hand over top, giving Molly's a gentle squeeze. "A broken puzzle and a deck of cards. But how this got into my pocket I don't know, because I certainly don't remember taking it."

Albus nodded before sitting down in his own wooden chair, staring at the puzzle piece on his desk with an odd look in his eyes. "No Arthur, I don't suppose that you would. This isn't your fault. Whatever this item is apart of, must be incredibly powerful, seeing as this little piece was able to alter your mind so much. I can see why Cornelius is so interested in this and its owner. As you would say, I do hope the man is smart enough not to trust something whose brain can't be seen."

"What do you suppose we should do, Albus?" Minerva asked from the elderly wizard's shoulder. "Are we going to take that poor boy away from Fudge, or are you going to tell us that it is far to dangerous?"

Turning his head to look at his professor, the twinkle once again reappeared in Albus' features. "My dear Minerva, you know just as well as I, that if I were to say no to helping this boy the three of you would jump me. No, I think that we shall go and pay the Ministry of Magic a visit. And as for the puzzle piece, well…we will deal with that problem when we can. Besides, I would like to look at this device a little closer."