Disclaimer: I do not own the wonderful world of Harry Potter.


Chapter Seven: The Threat


Ginny's sleep that night was an uneasy one. Shadows drifted through her subconscious landscape.

Haunting echoes rent the air with anonymous screams. Another corpse joining the rest. Smoke from the ruins filled her eyes and lungs while she tripped over an undistinguished body. Friend or foe, she couldn't tell. Spotting the broken shatters of a blood spattered Death Eater mask next to a student's school robes, Ginny bit back a sob of repressed terror. She couldn't tell the student's house as blood made the colours dark and wet. She couldn't tell if she had known them. If she had been friends with them. She didn't have time to pause and take it in, but as she continued on, she could no longer look down, too fearful to catch the lifeless gaze of someone dear.

There was no one left moving within the remains of the inner courtyard save for her, yet she continued, searching desperately for survivors. For an ally to stop her from being alone. Weaving unsteadily between the rubble that had been the school's walls, Ginny managed feebly to keep control of herself. She had poor grasp of her bearing in relation to the rest of the battle that could be heard farther away. Her ears still rung from the force of the recent explosion that had gone off. Her arms bled from the superficial scratches of being thrown to the ground, but she didn't notice.

The metallic taste of corrosive magic stuck to the back of her throat, a byproduct of the school's wards having been torn apart.

She caught the soft noise of rubble shifting unexpectedly from her left. She spun around, seeing the faintest cloud of dust drifting above where the rocks had slid; a morbid silence hung in the air while Ginny sensed for the first time that she was not alone. Someone was near, shielding themselves from her sight.

Fear slid through her chest. They were not an ally.

Her breath was still ragged from the labours she'd fought to stay alive. In front of her she held her wand up defensively, arm shaking furiously from the strain her body had yet to recover from. Her enemies were older, stronger, more experienced, and entirely without mercy. She soon found out that she had to push her magical abilities way beyond their healthy limits to even keep up and this was the first time she found herself separated from those she was fighting with. She didn't know if she had enough in her to save herself from a renewed attack which is why she sought so determinedly for someone on her side.

There was another disturbance in the loose rubble, only this time back around to her right. She turned quickly and pressed her vulnerable back against a nook in the fallen part of the wall. She tried to take a few deep, quieting breaths. Her heart was pounding in her throat as she willed herself not to whimper with every gasping inhale; her throat felt just as battered as the rest of her.

Sweat and blood dripped down her creased brow but she did not move to wipe it off, for even the slightest shifting would give her position away... if she wasn't already being watched.

The silence hung uninterrupted. The adrenaline began to quell along with most of the tremors. Ginny eased herself out of the sheltered space and began to conjure up the magic to stem the blood from a superficial cut on her hairline. If called to fight again, it would be a dangerous distraction.

Too late Ginny sensed the presence to her left. Her eyes didn't have enough time to see anything but the man's figure with her periphery before hearing the Unforgivable.

Indescribable pain traced its way down every exhausted nerve in her body. She was entirely consumed by the fire that was the Cruciatus Curse.

She collapsed in screams. Her body paralyzed as every muscle clenched in agony. Although the curse did not last long, the effects echoed through her body so that she could not move even after the curse had ended.

"It looks like we have some time to ourselves," the man leered. Ginny could see his eyes through the holes of his mask, but she saw nothing human there. She fumbled ineffectively for her wand but he picked it up neatly from her side where she'd dropped it.

"This may be but a small consolation, darling," from his lecherous sneer Ginny could make out the silver teeth which, behind the skull mask, made a truly monstrous effect, "but you're my lucky number seven."

He knelt over her body, pressing the weight of his knees on her forearms. She no longer had the strength to move her own body let alone free herself from his. Her throat could barely support her feeble cries.

He'd torn open the top of her shirt, revealing her chest and bra that was drenched in sweat and grime from the battle. He ran the back of his hand over her exposed flesh and she thrashed whichever muscles would still cooperate, to no avail.

"I assure you," he whispered near her face so that she could feel his hot, stinking breath, "this is going to hurt." He placed the tip of his wand above her left breast. She could feel the burn just as she heard it. She screamed until what felt like her throat was bleeding as her flesh sizzled. Her struggle seemed to encourage him further. He reached down to his waist as if to adjust his robes. Ginny grew hysterical with comprehension. All she could do was pray.

"Avada Kedavra!"

She was awash with green light.

Seven years later with many kilometers between, Ginny's eyes snapped open and her mind was freed from the prison of her memories. She pressed a hand to her forehead to feel the trace of perspiration that had passed from dream to reality.

Hogwarts hasn't come back to me in so many months, she considered disconcertedly. It had been years after the battle before she could even go nights without being able to close her eyes without hearing the screams of her past. The shock of reliving that particular horrible moment from the battle was enough to momentarily blur last night, especially when she looked back at how much Firewhisky the two of them had imbibed.

She shook off the dark feeling that tried to cling hold then tore the blankets off to haul her post-inebriated self to her bathroom and clean off last night's makeup. She used a wet cloth to clean up her smeared mascara then gave her whole face a wash treatment. Even for her she thought she looked pale.

Sitting on the lid of her toilet contemplatively she decided she was too dehydrated and unmotivated to draw a bath. Especially after spying that it wasn't yet noon.

Thinking back to last night Ginny couldn't help smile to herself as she recalled her date with Dean. He'd been funny, charming, and certainly nostalgic, the whole night through and was a perfect gentleman about her heading home early. She'd drank more than intended, but all in good spirit; she wasn't so eager to let herself get into a situation as the last time she'd indulged. They'd planned to meet up next week for a second date. Ginny could only imagine the smug expression that would grace Luna's face when she told her.

Heading out of the washroom in her boxers and a backwards tank-top, she was determined to not waste her day and make a refreshing caffeinated brew. She came to a full stop though when her eye caught a glimpse of something decidedly alarming. She found herself face to face with the wall across the hall from her flat through the open front door.

Her Auror instincts kicked in with built-in immediacy as she threw herself back into her room, launching onto the bed and clawing a hand under her pillow for her wand (where she'd been keeping it of late). She rolled herself off the bed, grogginess of the morning forgotten as her adrenaline shocked her into alert cautiousness.

Ginny wasted no time casting a quick spell to check for concealed presences in the flat, feeling a renewal of that sick sense of vulnerability her dreams brought to the surface. You are certainly, probably, most likely overreacting, she considered realistically but was not foolish enough to put down her guard. It could have just been a robbery, she hypothesized hopefully, knowing full well that her wards hadn't been updated to include Muggles when she moved in because it had cost extra. A fast scan of the room told her that this was probably not the case as her television and video player rested forlornly by the pile of junk stuffed in the corner.

Her collection of movies and records had not one out of place save those that she'd been too disinterested in returning to their proper cases.

She finally made her way to the offending entrance of her home with another awful realization that her cat was certainly roaming about the building. She stepped into the hall wand-first looking right at the two closed doors of her neighbours: Michael, a young man studying Architectural Design at school in the city and an empty flat that used to home an old French couple. The husband had passed away a number of months ago and the wife moved back to France to be with family. Neither looked particularly conspicuous.

When she looked left towards the stairs she felt a pang of relief to find Napoleon sprawled across the hallway in obvious delight at his freedom. He gave a pathetic meow of affection upon seeing his mum out in the hall too. He padded over to her, happily rubbing against her legs before she bent over deftly, scooping him into her arms. As she walked the few steps back to the flat she briefly considered knocking on Michael's door to ask if he'd heard anything last night or early in the morning but it wouldn't amount to much. She knew from experience he didn't have class or work on Thursday and often spent the weeknight elsewhere. On top of that, she really did not feel comfortable involving him in whatever she was a part of. She closed the door behind her, dropping her squirming companion onto the back of the couch. He jumped off and scooted straight over to his food dish.

Feeling secure for a moment, Ginny began to take a closer look around her place for clues. She was a little surprised and quite disturbed at how quickly she found them. If they wanted to go unnoticed, they would have done to close the door behind them, she figured.

The small table next to her bedroom was covered in framed photographs of her family and friends. There was one of her, Luna, and Colin by the lake in their Fifth Year next to an old picture of her mum and her uncles, Gideon and Fabian as kids. Uncles she'd never met as they'd both been killed in the First War. It always struck a tragic chord how like Fred and George and the two of them looked there, identical grins of mischief and all. If it weren't for the aged photograph, it could easily have been mistaken for her and the twins.

These pictures were both dear to her because of the time they represented, a time before loss. In front of these was another with her and Kati Bell pilling on top of Ron when they'd won the Quidditch Cup after she replaced Harry in the House Cup finals. There were a number more memories captured behind frames but her hand reached out to pick the only one not still covered in a light layer of dust.

Her fingers grazed the cracked glass.

As soon as she saw the image, her suspicions about the intruder were confirmed. It was a shot taken of her on the night of graduation from training. She had her arms wrapped around the shoulders of her two beaming companions who laughed as she struggled to stay on her tip-toes; even in heels Harry and Edward were still inches taller.

She remembered the night well. Edward had taken her out for a midnight meal after the small ceremony at the Ministry and he confessed his feelings to her. She'd been so surprised at first having never suspected he'd developed anything more than platonic over the few months they'd become friends. As such, she never looked at him in another light until then.

There was no coincidence in that particular picture being broken, just as there'd been none in finding his ring hung on her door. The message is here, she was certain, and furious with herself for not being able to figure it out. She put the photograph back to the dustless place where it had been until that morning and headed to her room. She slipped into a pair of jeans and grabbed a hoodie up off the floor before realizing that her closet door was pulled open.

Remembering how she'd hung her dress on the closed closet handle before diving into bed, her stomach clenched at the implication of her defenselessness. Whoever had been inside her flat stood exactly where she was, watching her as she slept. Had she been attacked, even with her wand within arm's reach, there would never have been time to cast a spell, to do anything. A cold shiver spread across her. What had almost happened to her seven years ago had been so very close to happening again.

Heading out to the living room once more, Ginny wasted no time grabbing a pinch of Floo powder and lighting her artificial fireplace that had been connected to the network when she moved in. Kneeling down in front of it she tossed the powder in, enunciating "Ministry: Ron Weasley's Office" before seeing the flames turn green and feeling her head spin through space until it emerged in her brother's fireplace at the Ministry. Miraculously, he was alone.

"Ginny?" he called from his small, cluttered desk. "What's up?"

"Someone's broken into my flat," she cut to the chase. Ron stared at her nonplussed for a comprehending moment before standing to close his door.

"Are you alright? Have you been robbed? Were there signs of forced entry?" he began in interrogation, stopping at the look his sister gave him.

"My door was wide open when I got up this morning, but not a thing's missing. There's proof of their presence around the place though; someone was definitely inside."

Before he could get a response out of his thin lipped expression someone knocked at the door. "Agent Weasley?" for the faintest of dim moments Ginny wondered incredulously how they'd known she was in there. Things get confused when a number of your immediate family work in the same building. "It's Kenneth from downstairs. I just wanted your approval for the report we're doing on your team's involvement in the Donovan case before I sent it up."

"Hold on," Ron said to Ginny quietly before standing up and opening his door. She couldn't see this Kenneth from her position, but heard the muffled conversation between them. Her brother closed the door and came back to his chair. "I've got to take care of this, Gin, but I'll be over in less than half an hour to take a look around. Any break-in of an Auror's residence is supposed to be reported very particularly and we should also make sure your wards are still stable." He gave her one last fleeting look of concern before he was gone.

"Fine with me." She sat with her bum on the hardwood floor, legs stretched out in front. I don't want to be here, she realized, not here, not this building, not even London. But there wasn't a single other place she could think to be. I used to have a say in my life, now it's 'stay where you are and I'll be there in an hour.'

She let herself keep feeling despondent for one more lenient minute before giving herself a sharp pinch on the leg.

"Coffee," she exclaimed to the empty room, "I need coffee." She got up, emptying yesterday's grounds before brewing another pot. After brushing her hair and teeth, she changed into something that was the proper way round.

Fifteen minutes later she was tapping her fingers on the counter, nails just long enough to click impatiently. Each minute lasted an hour, her third mug of coffee doing nothing to ease the restlessness. Merlin, I could use a cigarette, she thought guiltily, having given them up two years ago.

"Only Muggles would make something that kills you so addictive," she had more than once commented to Remus when they lived together. She'd picked up the habit after moving out of the Burrow when she began to spent more time at Muggle bars with a few of her coworkers after a shift.

At first she tried to keep it hidden from most people since it was considered a stigmatized habit in both worlds, and more importantly didn't want someone like Remus to accidentally go and tell her mother (the worst of all possible worsts). It wasn't until one night when she came home a little worse for wear and asked him if he had a smoke that her cover was blown. The even bigger shock was when he pulled a pack out without so much as a comment. The gig was up for the both of them so they became coconspirators in the secret.

After moving out and having no one else to be her partner in crime, Ginny slowly weaned herself from the devilish little things. Starting her new fitness regimen for the Auror program helped to keep her motivated.

She was in the middle of changing Napoleon's water when a knock at the door caused her to slosh half of it on the floor. She muttered a curse and mopped the mess with her socked foot before going to let her brother in.

It was no surprise that he'd brought another agent with him as was protocol when investigating a breaking and entering, especially when a witch's or wizard's wards may have been compromised.

"Ginny, this is Agent Cole. Cole, this is my sister, she's one of Kingsley's." Ginny took the hand that was offered.

"Not at the moment, though," she added, offering them drinks; both declined politely. More for me, she thought heading to her kitchen and pouring her fourth.

"Cole's going to take a look at your wards right now while you walk me through what happened this morning," Ron began professionally and Ginny had to admire the calm in which he was dealing with an obviously personal situation. Cole took his leave and began quietly casting spells around her door to verify the protection.

"I got in around one last night, headed straight to my room and passed out as my head hit the pillow," she explained as a preface to her morning's discovery.

Ron gave her a deeply searching gaze that made her squirm. She rarely got to see Ron in an authoritative role. "Where were you coming home from?"

Normally she'd tell her brother to butt out of her business but exceptions could be made. "I went out for drinks with Dean Thomas, if it makes any difference."

For a moment his expression lightened and Ginny sensed that he probably would have preferred asking how his old dorm mate was getting along, but restrained himself tactfully.

"How much did you drink before coming home?" he asked with a hitch in his voice that he had to clear his throat to get rid of. He foresaw the scathing look his sister had been sure to give him.

"Don't you start with me," tone suggesting he ought to proceed with caution.

"Is it at all possible that... well," he tripped over his words, trying to make his next point as inoffensive as possible. "Is there any chance that you may have left it open?"

It was a testament to Ron's backbone that he did not quail under her withering glare.

"Being off work for three weeks hasn't made me incompetent, Ron. I still know how to evaluate a breaking and entering, alright?"

She saw Cole's eyes shift over to their conversation at the raised voices, but they were back on his work in a flash. For a split second her paranoia bristled to the surface as she wondered whether this stranger was one of Fudge's men or not.

"I know, Gin, it's just―

"Look," she interrupted with sudden longing to get this over with, "I Apparated straight into my flat. I locked the door before leaving; Luna was over earlier but my wards are adjusted to let her come straight in so she didn't use the door either. Before going to bed and my waking up this morning someone else was in here."

Ron nodded in acceptance. Ginny knew that he got the point.

"Let me show you what else I found," she continued and Ron followed her over to the pictures. She didn't point it out immediately, letting him scan over them himself. His eyes flickered over the familiar scenes and old family shots until they found what was amiss.

As he stared at the offending damage, the furrow in his brow deepening.

"Of all the ones…" he mused to himself.

"Of all the ones," she reaffirmed, sharing with him a moment of consideration.

Both of them jumped when Agent Cole's voice cut in. "Everything's intact Miss―Agent Weasley. No sign of corruption in any of your wards' makeup," he announced, having finished his inspection.

"The only ones who could've come in without disruption are muggles or anyone I've cleared to bypass them," Ginny explained. Really, other than her immediate family, that list was a pretty short one: Luna, Neville, Hermione, Harry… and Ed.

"Could they have gotten in using Muggle techniques to pick the locks? Merlin knows our brothers found it easy enough," Ron offered but Cole shook his head.

"The wards you've got in place are Ministry grade. Even if you did manage to open the door, you still wouldn't be able to pass the threshold," he explained.

And who do we know who has recently acquired an uncanny familiarity with Ministry wards? Apparently by the look on his face, Ron was coming to similar conclusions.

"Well―

A knock at the door killed the words on her lips.

"Are you expecting anyone?" Ron voiced when his sister failed to react.

"Are you?" she returned, that sick feeling in her stomach causing the hairs on her neck to stand on end. The knock came again, a little louder. She inched her way over.

"You should really get one of those little spy holes," Ron offered from behind her.

"You think?" she replied in a cool tone, having deduced that some time ago.

"Ginevra?"

"Dad?" Ginny and Ron exclaimed with Cole looking between them in amusement. She quickly undid the latch and welcomed the man.

"They told me I would find both of you here," he said in greeting, bending down to give his surprised daughter a kiss on the cheek.

"Not that we aren't delighted to see you dad, but what are you doing here? It's a stretch to imagine you were given leave to visit in the middle of the day, even if I am your favourite child," she replied, closing the door behind him. Ron gave a snort of disbelief. She hoped her father hadn't simply gone AWOL for an early lunch. The Weasley name wasn't garnering a lot of good credit within the Ministry of late.

"Did you really think that when news of an Auror investigation into my daughter's home, led by my son, reached my ear I wouldn't feel compelled to drop by to make sure everything's alright?"

Of course she didn't.

"It seems that you haven't had the pants robbed off you yet," he established after a glance around. "You're lucky your mother isn't here, you're a bit of a slob, my dear." Ron gave another snort.

"Ginny, dad, Cole and I have to head back to the office to get the paperwork done on this. I'm going to put in a request to have your wards upgraded. There doesn't seem to be much else to do here beyond speculate," Ron explained with regret. Ginny understood, they didn't have anything so far to go on and staying would be a waste of their resources.

"Glad I could catch you before you left, son," he gave Ron a squeeze on the shoulder. "Say hello to Hermione for your mother and I."

Ginny thanked them both sincerely for coming. She and Ron shared a silent understanding that they would talk again soon. There were some more personal variables to the situation than either felt at liberty to discuss in front of Ministry or parental officials. She knew Ron would never bring an Auror to her home that he didn't have faith in, but these were cautious times. Now more than ever Ginny was beginning to suspect that she was somehow involved in something much deeper than she first believed.

Ron and Agent Cole Flooed back to the office and Ginny put it on her mental list to buy more powder the next time she was out.

"Coffee?" she asked, already knowing his response.

"I would love some," he replied with a weary smile, taking off his patched and faded cloak to hang by the door. The Weasley children all had a varying appreciation for the drink, but none as devoted as Ginny. It was something passed directly from father to daughter since Molly preferred tea one hundred percent of the time.

She brought him a cup with one cream, knowing just how he took it, and then sat down opposite him on the couch after moving a pile of papers and some of her books.

"How are you doing?" he asked, leaning in and taking the warm mug with both hands. It felt like ages since the last time she'd actually spoken to her father, feeling a sudden guilt at the realization that she should spend more time with her parents.

"I'm alright," she began, "just a little off-kilter after this morning's episode," she admitted with a half-smile. Her father paused while blowing softly on the hot beverage; his gaze steady across the mug.

"How are you doing financially? Three months with half pay can be hard on anyone."

She opened her mouth with the same reply on hand that she'd given to her friends and brothers until it clicked. Her guilt plummeted below sea level realizing that she'd yet to tell her parents about the suspension. As much as she'd been avoiding it at the time, she fully did intend to share the unpleasant news with them. With all that happened between then and now, she basically forgot.

"I swear I meant to tell you both, but―

"Life intervened?" he finished. Ginny groaned and sank back into her seat.

"Doesn't it always?" she wondered aloud and he gave a chuckle.

"Your mum and I worry about you. I know that we can often get on your nerves and mum can be a bit… suffocating," they both shared an experienced grin, "but we just want you to be as happy, healthy, and safe as possible."

Ginny wanted to cry; she felt like the most ungrateful daughter and wanted very much to reassure him that she was going to be alright.

"I know how much you care, but I'm going to make it through. Plus, you know I'd be over for mum to feed me before I ever managed to let myself go hungry." This was a universally acknowledged truth for all of the children. "Did she flip out when she found out?"

"I haven't told her," he confided and Ginny sat back up in shock.

"Why not?"

"Ginevra, I have nothing but faith in you. You're a smart girl, a smart woman I should say. You've more than earned your right to an independent life without your parents trying to influence it. I know that you know how much we love you and we know you're not afraid to come to us for help should you need it."

Ginny scooted over to sit beside him and wrap her arms around his shoulder, giving him a sideways hug. She squeezed him tight. Even as kids he'd always been such a strong support. Her mother was the home but he was the foundation. "Thank you," this was something she'd been needing of late, someone to show their confidence in her, especially with everything happening to make her doubt it in herself.

"And don't worry about Harry either," he said unexpectedly and Ginny groaned once more.

"Oh Merlin, what has she been saying now?"

Of everyone in her life, she largely suspected her father was the only one who didn't believe her and Harry were at all suited for each other. She remembered the first time ever confessing those thoughts to him and he'd smiled, encouraging her to act on what she believed above all else.

"She's under the impression that he's merely bringing this Maya around as a ploy to make you jealous," he explained with a chuckle at the noise of indignation coming from his daughter.

"Will she not just drop it? The poor man…" she trailed off, sympathetic to Harry, and her mother's meddling.

"He's probably just as at odds with the situation as any of us. He's always had a lot of affection for you, dear."

Yes, and it only took five years of my infatuation for him to figure it out, she thought perhaps a mite unfairly.

"I know, I know. It's already been almost nine years, but how much longer am I going to have to wait for him to put this in the past?" she asked glumly. She wished she didn't sound so much like a schoolgirl complaining about a boy in her class, what with everything else falling apart around her, but that's the situation Harry always managed to put her in.

"He's doing his best," her father replied with uncanny insight. Ginny didn't doubt this truth but Harry's best might not be doing either of them good.

There was a comfortable silence as the two of them took long synchronized draughts of their coffees, letting out a shared sigh.

"I heard something interesting in the office last week," Arthur began in a meaningful tone. What else have I done now?

"It seems someone put in a request to reopen Edward's file." All trace of humour fell from Ginny's face.

"And?" she asked, trying hard to conceal her impatience to hear more. Neither Ron nor Kingsley had given her information regarding their progress or lack thereof. It was driving her mad.

"Fudge refused to sign off. He said that since none of the missing persons involved in Death Eater activity have turned up, we would be wasting valuable resources when we're already stretched so thin."

Ginny clenched her mug tight enough to turn her knuckles white. Not thin enough to suspend an Auror though, she fumed. No wonder Ron had nothing to tell me.

"Merlin, would I ever love to curse that smarmy bastard halfway to―

"Ahem."

"Sorry," she conceded.

"It seemed strange to me that after so many months with zero leads someone would be this interested in spending more time with this particular case, wouldn't you agree?" Even without any of the facts, he could still sense her involvement. Had it been any other topic she would have smiled at her father's unfailing intuitiveness.

"Maybe something's come up," she offered vaguely, feeling even worse for now concealing the truth from him by omission. Especially when she caught eyes with her loving, concerned father.

"Perhaps," he affirmed. Ginny did her best to appear nonplussed. He always had the ability to see through her facades but he was never one to press the subject. If his daughter had anything to keep from him that was her right. He only hoped that the feeling in his gut telling him that she was involved in something dangerous was simply paternal paranoia. Even as a grown woman she would never stop being his youngest child.

"Well dear, now that I've seen you're safe and sound I ought to return from lunch," he explained with a regretful smile. As they stood to embrace, he gave their surroundings a critical glance. "And speaking for your mother, you may consider tidying up around here. You never know when someone's going to leave your front door open."

"Thank you, dad, but I like to think of it as intruder deterrent."

"Don't you ever have people over?"

"Luna's over every now and then but I generally spend time round her and Neville's. Otherwise my guest list is a bit diminished of late. Though, if you must know, I went out with Dean Thomas last night."

"Ah yes? Dean was always a nice boy."

"He's a very nice twenty five year old boy," she elucidated.

"Well maybe you could have him round for dinner sometime," he offered and Ginny made a great effort to rearrange her expression into one of consideration. "Maybe not?"

"I think I'd have to wait for a second date before bringing him before the tribunal," she replied, giving him a consolidating pat on the shoulder.

"Fair enough," he laughed, and they gave each other a farewell. "Have you talked to Remus much since he's been in town?"

Ginny pulled back, a little thrown off. "A bit, I haven't exactly been up to a whole lot of socializing."

"He was asking after you last time we spoke," he admitted as a forerunner to the point he was coming to make. "I think being back in London has made him quite downcast. There are a lot of memories wandering the city and I'm sure coming back is an adjustment." No one needed to tell her that. "You and he were quite close when you lodged at Grimmauld. Maybe send him an owl or drop by and see how he's doing; get out of here for a bit. It's not like you've got much to do these days either."

Leave it to her father to tell her to call on a man twice her age.

"I suppose I could make time to get out of my flat every once in a while." They moved towards the door for him to put on his coat.

"We'll see you when we see you," he said with a wink and Disapparated.

Realizing for the first time that morning how famished she was, Ginny headed straight to the fridge for comfort.

Upon opening it she noticed that the contents had been pilfered: bread, milk, butter, and cheese all absent. Breaking in her home was one thing, but taking my food? It was more than her composure could handle.

"Thieving bastard!" she snarled, slamming the door shut. Napoleon looked up from his dish.

"What?" she grumbled furiously. He went back to ignoring her. She looked at the clock and couldn't believe it was only half past noon.


"Your incompetence never ceases to amaze me."

"S-sir?"

"He was not to make contact."

"We were aware sir, but―

"Crucio!"

The sounds of writhing screams filled the otherwise silent hall until the caster lowered his wand and broke the curse. Heavy panting filled the air while desperate murmurs of apology and mercy rang out nervously from those who remained on their knees.

"Fail me again and I will have your eyes torn out. Now get out of my sight."

The three men in cloaks rose to drag their incapacitated companion with them, each more thankful than the last that such lenience had been shown for their near disastrous folly.

TBC