A/N: Hello everyone! Long time huh? Thanks so much for the reviews! They're very appreciated and desired! Also, I'm glad to know that people really liked that Lucius-bit I tossed in there. Anyway… next chapter! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and related characters belong to JKR. But Yorick, and Mrs. O'Brady are mine.

"Ron, I think I've found something!"

DMRS chapter 7 – Restrictions

Harry and Ron:

Ron jerked violently out of Kingsley's chair, as the unexpected sound of Harry's voice cut through the silence of the darkened room. Ron's world spun around him, as his head came in contact with the floor. He stayed where he was, until everything stopped moving.

He rose carefully off of the ground in slow movements, not wishing to disturb any of his newly acquired wounds. He crept delicately to where Harry was waiting impatiently, with a heavy-looking file in hand.

Harry arched an eyebrow, clearly not impressed; Ron scowled.

"So what did you find that was important enough to ruin my nap?" Ron asked crankily. "It had better be something to make this whole trip worth while."

Harry's eyes glowed at that statement, and he regally presented the manila folder he was holding to Ron. Ron went cross-eyed as the clearly abused file was thrust under his nose.

"Harry," Ron ground out, a hint of annoyance coloring his tone. "I can't see anything this close up to my FACE! Just in case you didn't happen to know that little fact already!"

Harry's eye twitched in response, and the final result of Ron's mini-explosion was the file being lowered onto Kingsley's desk, albeit reluctantly. The folder's name emblazoned upon the cover flashed defiantly up at the wizards peering down on it:

Death Eater Files

RESTRICTED

The boys both swallowed and glanced at each other. "Well, Harry. We're at the Point of No Return," Ron mumbled.

Harry gave his friend one of… those looks. "Ron, we passed the Point of No Return when we all agreed to help-" Harry silenced himself and did a quick glance around before whispering, "You-Know-Who."

"WE'RE HELPING VOLDEMORT?" Ron exclaimed, reacquainting himself with Kingsley's carpet.

Harry could have hit himself in the forehead for his stupidity. In fact, he did. Repeatedly.

"That's not who I meant by that!" Harry yipped, after his 'Dobby Moment' was over. "You know exactly who I meant when I said that!"

"Do I?" Ron's voice was laced with sudden suspicion.

Harry stared incredulously at his so-called friend. "Ron, I say this to you now, because we're such good friends, and someone really has to tell you this other than Hermione.

"I mean this with no disrespect, but… you can really be an absolute idiotic MORON!" Harry bellowed.

"What? Me, the 'absolute idiotic moron' here? You've got to be joking! You're the one who completely switched objectives here! And you're the one calling me stupid!" Ron hissed at Harry from his position on the floor.

Harry was about to retort, but stopped himself. He took in a deep breath and visibly calmed with the exhale. His tensed muscles relaxed, folding in on themselves. Harry's shuttered eyelids slowly opening, revealing tamed, glowing, emerald eyes. Harry formed his next sentence carefully and delicately. "Ron… what exactly did we come here to do?"

Ron thought it a rhetorical question, until he saw the honest question in Harry's gaze. Ron smirked as he replied, "We came here to gather information on past Death Eater Trials."

"Yes," Harry affirmed the facts that came out of Ron's mouth. Starting to massage his temples, Harry continued in his questioning, "And we're gathering data to assist whom, exactly?"

Ron started sneering out his response, "We're supposedly 'gathering data' to help the Mal- Oh!" Ron cut himself off. Harry watched as the light bulb went flashing on in Ron's head, and he knew that his friend finally understood.

Harry arched an eyebrow as he watched his comrade stare at him, mouth slightly agape. "So that's why you didn't say their real names! The Ministry might be listening in!" Ron swiftly slapped a hand to his mouth, as this realization hit him hard. He dragged widened eyes upwards to connect with his companion's, apologetically. Now that explained why Harry had tried to do as little talking as possible on the trip. Garr! I am sooo stupid! Ron mentally kicked himself for not shutting up, when their journey began.

The redhead residing on the ground quickly picked himself up, so as to stand shoulder to shoulder – well, raven head to Orangey's shoulder – with his best mate.

They looked at each other, before simultaneously nodding, and placing one of their hands on the file's cover, and pulling it open…

***.

Hermione:

Hermione Granger waved final goodbyes to her friends as she closed the door in their soon-to-be-gone faces. She peeked out of the door's window and watched as the last of her friends Apparated away, her eyes lingering a second longer on the spot once occupied by a rather gloomy red-head. She smiled to herself as she turned her back to the door and glided down the deserted hallway.

The witch climbed down a flight of stairs and turned left, into a room that she loved: Grimmauld Place's library. A vast collection of Wizarding World books and magazines filled its walls and scraped its ceiling. Stepping within its depths, Hermione inhaled the heavenly smell wafting around her, circling her body upwards to tickle at her small nose. Ahhh, books.

But she wasn't here to peruse the shelves, on a constant search for nothing in particular, today. No, for she was on a mission. Even this mere thought sent chills through her body, awakening her muscles and propelling them forward, ready for usage. Her mind snapped on, her computer of a brain eager to add more information to its already large amount of knowledge.

Her eyes ghosted over shelves as she prowled the numerous isles, ever the lioness on the hunt. Nimble fingers gently stroked each and every spine she passed with a loving caress, leaving behind traces of her magic to set the books tingling, letting them know that she cared for them all. Soon, the whole library was quivering from her touch, relishing the feeling of love. The library returned the favor, pulling out the books it felt she would need.

Hermione's eyes twinkled as the library sent a table and chair her way, followed by a bunch of its books. She sat down as the reading material sorted itself into neat stacks, reaching about a meter high each.

The witch allowed her hand to travel to the first book atop the closest pile. But she chucked it immediately after reading the startling title

She clucked her tongue as she watched all of the books in the related pile soar away in an insulted manner. Well, Hermione thought to herself as she regarded the leaving books, hopefully I'll get through all of these as fast as I went through those…

She was shocked to turn back to the table to find that the stacks had moved closer, taking up the previous stack's space. With a deep breath, she forced her hand atop the next pile to grab the highest book. On its way toward the tabletop, Hermione somehow managed to convince herself that this one would be better than the last.

Sadly, she couldn't have been more wrong. When her eyes grazed over the cover, she ridded herself of the nasty thing quicker than the first, a blush flourishing on her cheeks. Why on Earth, would the library believe she would even need such a thing?

She watched morosely as the related books went to go comfort their rejected brother. She turned her head back to the remaining stacks awaiting her judgment. There had to be at least a hundred stacks of books; this would take up the rest of the day, if not most of the night. She sighed, resigned to her fate, and allowed herself to examine the next heap.

***.

George and Ginny:

Diagon Alley was deserted, except for two, lone, cloaked figures making their way down the once bustling street. Their steps were quick, wholehearted in the quest of going home, where it was warm and safe. As they traveled, the figures talked. No, allow me to rephrase that: As the figures traveled, their loud bickering could be heard from any point on the street, and their hooded, fiery red hair would distinguish them from anyone in a crowd. Their squabbling ricocheted off of the walls lining the street, and dissolving into the darkness of the night above.

Their constant chatter prevented them from the realization of the fact that they were being followed by a pair of brown eyes. These brown eyes were connected to a face hidden in the shadow of their hood, all but a pointed nose showed. The body with which held the face was bent slightly, crippled by age and was shielded by a black robe. The feet, which held the body, which held the face, which held the brown eyes stalking the two travelers, stood on the edge of the shadows, provided by the tall, encompassing walls of a side alley.

As the two figures neared the mouth of the alley, an aged, but skilled hand, darted out of the alley's depths, and caught hold of the shorter one's cloak. The two travelers stopped their quarrelling in favor of putting their mouths to the better use of screaming. The hand clutching the sleeve of the smaller body tightened its grip, before withdrawing its hand into the shadows, dragging the shrieking Ginny with it. In a last attempt at freedom, Ginny flailed her remaining hand about, to end with a fistful of George's robe. Sadly, this act accomplished only one thing: dragging George with her.

Once the darkness of the alley had swallowed them, the hooded being covered the two screaming mouths with its hands, consequently shoving the bodies attached, against one of the alley's walls. The dampness encasing the wall instantly started to seep into the material of George's and Ginny's cloaks and robes, causing them to shudder at the sudden moisture eating away at the warmth of their bodies.

Ginny and George both stared defiantly at the eyes of their shrouded captor, daring it to do its worst. Their kidnapper chuckled when Ginny and George bit down on its hands, apparently finding humor in their effort to free themselves.

Then, quick as a flash, the being had pulled its wand from within its cloak and cast a silencing spell on its two prisoners. Next, the cloaked figure conjured a pair of handcuffs, which it snapped onto Ginny's and George's wrists, too thick for them to place their hands in their pockets, where their wands lay. Once attached, the handcuffs grew chains, which the figure took in its frail hand, with a strong grip. It then proceeded to pull its prisoners down the dark alley, their footsteps reverberating throughout the alley as they went.

***.

Harry and Ron:

Harry and Ron realized their mistake a little too late. When they opened up the folder, a horrible shrieking and shouting filled the air. With horrified looks plastered on their faces, they swiftly slammed the folder shut. But it didn't help one bit; the Restricted File continued to holler.

With some quick thinking on Ron's part, (surprising, right?) he whipped out his wand and cast Silencio on the vibrating, yelling folder. Both boys let out a sigh of relief as the folder fell silent, but still quavered a lot. Yet, their moods shifted again at the sound of approaching footsteps. Harry and Ron froze.

Harry glanced around for the Cloak, and found that it was halfway across the room; there wasn't enough time to attempt to reach the Cloak. "Hide!" Harry whispered to Ron.

While Ron dashed about to find an acceptable hiding spot, Harry shoved the file into his cloak for safe-keeping, and dove under Shacklebolt's desk. Ron discovered an alcove within the columns and rows of cabinets at one of the room's corners; he climbed over the two adjacent cabinets shielding the alcove, and slipped into the small square space it provided.

What perfect timing.

The door to the office flew open, and with a crash, came in contact with the wall behind it. Shacklebolt and two other Aurors came barging inside of the office, wands drawn. Their eyes flickered about the room, trying to locate the intruders; they looked like a bunch of squirrels jacked up on coffee, with how 'on-edge' they appeared.

"Spread out," Shacklebolt's voice ordered the other two. Not a second passed before the orders were being followed. Ron could see what was happening due to the crack that the two cabinets provided at where they touched.

The Aurors overturned tables and chairs. But due to their obvious search for a person, they failed to notice the Invisibility Cloak that was lying quite visibly on the floor a few meters away. When they were about to overturn Kingsley's desk, Kingsley shouted, "What do you think you're doing? Don't touch my desk!" The perpetrators backed away from the desk with their hands raised in a 'don't shoot me' position.

As one of the Aurors backed off, the back of his left knee collided with the edge of an open filing cabinet. He let out a surprised yelp, before clutching at his smarting leg, yelling out words that Ron was certain that Hermione wouldn't approve of. The three adults in the room suddenly saw the state of the cabinets aligning the walls. Ron silently berated himself and Harry for not closing the drawers once they were finished looking through them.

"What is this, Kingsley? Someone has been ruffling through your drawers!" The other Auror that wasn't cradling an injury exclaimed.

"I do believe that we all see that!" Kingsley snapped. "Why didn't you notice this in the first place?" Ron had to bite his tongue pretty hard to prevent himself from releasing a trumpet of a laugh. How on Earth did these imbeciles become Aurors? I believe I shall never know! Shame…

"Probably the same reason you didn't," the uninjured Auror muttered.

But the other Auror obviously felt that he had to defend his own honor. "Well, Boss, your drawers always look a mess and busting away at their confines. It doesn't surprise me that we couldn't tell the difference!" Ron felt a flash of anger jolt through his system, as the injured Auror insulted Kingsley's organizational abilities.

"Maybe if you become more observant, you won't walk straight into a big, fat, wide-open drawer," Kingsley shot back. "Now, check to see if anything was stolen!"

The Aurors swiftly went to their work, not wishing to agitate their Superior any further. Ron fought back a snicker at their dour looks.

Meanwhile, under Kingsley's desk Harry had a front row seat to the altercation. The constant vibrating on his side was, in least, starting to get a tad uncomfortable. Harry began to feel nervous when he couldn't see Kingsley's feet any longer from his position. His eyes darted about, trying to locate the Head Auror. Green eyes fell upon the pair of shoes that just came into view on the other side of the desk.

Harry heard Shacklebolt suck in a quick breath as he noticed the state in which his drawers were in. Harry closed his eyes in shame. Then, his eyes zipped open as he realized Shacklebolt would discover the missing file!

Harry stuck his hand inside his cloak and pulled out the still-shaking-file. Sweat began to pool on his forehead at the sound of Kingsley going through the drawers of his desk. In the span of a moment, Harry's wand was in his hand and he'd whispered a duplicating spell, said too softly for even a dog to pick up. Soon enough, two identical, shivering files were in his hands. With a swiftness comparable to the speed of a striking viper, the replica was delicately placed on the floor next to the group of drawers that Kinsley had yet to check. Harry watched the duplicate with curiosity, as it ceased its terrible shuddering after Harry had released his grip upon it. He then placed the real document within his robes again.

Harry watched with growing apprehension as Kingsley's drawer shifting had come to a complete stop. Harry's assumption that Kingsley had figured out which file was taken, was proven correct as Shacklebolt renewed his search with the air of panic that states: 'Oh, no! Something this important can't go missing!'

Then, Shacklebolt's movements stilled again; Harry crossed his fingers. Like a hawk swooping down upon its prey, Shacklebolt practically dove upon the file. Harry's breath stopped in his throat as he waited for the moment of when he'd be seen. He was in for a shock though, when Shacklebolt straightened back up with out a glance his way. Harry joined Shacklebolt in exhaling a sigh of relief. Apparently, Kingsley had had tunnel vision concerning the discovery of the folder, and, much like his ignorant fellows, refused to pay attention to the world circulating around him. Harry was pretty positive that Slytherins would have been impressed by Harry's little stunt.

After Shacklebolt had 'replaced' the 'missing file', he joined his comrades in examining the cabinets along the walls. Now, Slytherins would be really impressed if I managed to get Ron and myself out of this situation without being caught!

That's when the idea hit him.

Like a mouse peeking carefully out of its hole, Harry's head cautiously peeped from around the corner of the desk, until his eyes were able to rest upon the three forms within the room. Good, their backs were turned. They had their heads shoved into cabinet drawers, looking for any signs of thievery.

Harry's wand was immediately used for a Disillusionment charm (just to be safe). Then Harry was crawling out from his hiding spot and into plain view. His movements were similar to that of a cat on the prowl, as he stalked closer to his Invisibility Cloak.

Harry released the breath that he hadn't known he was holding, when he reached his beloved possession without any added strife. Without the slightest hesitation, Harry tossed the Cloak over himself and glanced around the room for a particular red-head.

Harry's hunting eyes landed upon the sight of an index-finger wriggling out of a crack between two of the cabinets. After some closer inspection, Harry saw the flash of red he was looking for, along with the brief appearance of a blue eye.

Before Harry started to move towards his friend, he peered out of the corner of his right eye to get a peek at what the other three occupants were up to. Their heads were still among the drawers.

With his other worries assuaged for now, he returned his gaze back to his best mate. In three long strides, he was in front of the crack. "Ron," Harry breathed, barely above a whisper. Ron's eyes pinned to the place he believed Harry's eyes were. He was listening. "Ron, place a Disillusionment charm over yourself and climb out slowly, and carefully."

"But, Harry, I'll be seen!" Ron whispered back, slightly panicky.

With an evil smirk unbeknownst to the redhead, Harry confidently told Ron, "No, you won't."

Ron nodded, trusting the judgment of his friend.

Harry waited until he knew that Ron was ready, and then, aiming his wand strategically at one of the furthest cabinets in the room, muttered, "Reducto!"

In the chaos that followed, much was accomplished.

At the sound of exploding cabinets, the three Aurors spun toward the source of the noise. As they stared in a shell-shocked manner at the imploded cabinets with paper snow littering the floor everywhere, they didn't pay attention to a Mr. Harry Potter as he swiftly waved his partner-in-crime out from behind two adjacent cabinets, shielding a rather perfect hiding spot. Nor did they pay any mind, as Mr. Ronald Weasley slid under Mr. Harry Potter's Invisibility Cloak. Neither did they realize that their quarry was escaping them through the still-wide-open door.

***.

Hermione:

Hermione was almost through the thirtieth stack of books, when the door bell rang. Hermione growled softly as the annoying sound cut through her concentration like a steal blade.

"I'm coming! I'm coming!" Hermione shouted, as the agitating noise came again, not even a minute later. She stood, and walked brusquely out of the Library, toward the stairs, and, eventually, the front door. She winced slightly as she caught sight of her reflection in a vase as she walked by.

Hermione looked terrible. Her hair had become unnaturally frizzy due to her frustration, and bits and pieces were sticking out every which way. She had accumulated a nice matching pair of blood-shot eyes and purple bags hanging beneath them. Oh, and there was a small pimple appearing on the right side of her forehead, but that didn't have anything to do with her hard work in the library. In a set of dingy robes she'd found in one of the guest rooms, she looked like a ragamuffin. And she was not pleased about that at all.

As the witch walked past the screeching portrait of Mrs. Black, Hermione banged a fist against the portrait, in no mood for her antics. Surprisingly, that shock shut up Madame Black really well.

With a look of vengeance in her eyes, Hermione tore open the front door. The sight that met Hermione's eyes managed to swipe any of the annoyance off the witch's face. In fact, this sight was rather unnerving.

A dark cloaked figure stood on her doorstep; it was covered from head to toe, making it indistinguishable. In its boney hands, it grasped two chains, which connected to two identical handcuffs, which, in turn, were attached to Ginny and George's wrists. They both looked very haggard.

Then, the cloaked figure spoke, "I believe that these belong to you." The figure tugged gently on the chains with which it held, to show Hermione what it meant. The voice was definitely feminine.

When Hermione moved to take the chains, the shrouded woman held them out of her reach.

"Uh-uh-uh," the woman tutted, wagging a pointer-finger back and forth. Then, with the same hand, she showed Hermione an open palm.

Hermione stared at it for a moment, before looking toward the face hidden by the cloak's hood. She silently cursed herself for leaving her wand stupidly in the Library. "How much?" she asked.

"20 Galleons," the figure replied. "10 for each."

Hermione gave a curt nod, before digging her hands in her pockets, resurfacing with 20 Galleons. The two made the switch rapidly, shoving the items with which each held, in the other's waiting hands.

Hermione could hear the smile in the being's voice as she stated, "It was a pleasure doing business with you." Then, the being melted into the shadows, just outside the reach of the porch light.

Once all were safely inside, Hermione turned to the freed captives. "What happened?" She asked delicately.

She was unprepared for George snapping, "Malfoy's Trial happened! That's what!" The clearly ruffled wizard then shoved past Hermione to ascend the stairs leading to his room.

With a look of slight astonishment gracing her face, Hermione turned her questioning eyes to Ginny. The younger witch merely shrugged.

Then Ginny told Hermione, "If you find the Blacks' Penseive, I'll share the memory with you." As Hermione began to turn away to begin her search, Ginny added, "I'll also get you the 10 Galleons to pay you back."

Hermione nodded stiffly, before plodding away.

***.

"Okay, Ginny, I've found the Penseive!" Hermione called from somewhere down the basement. The witch trudged carefully up the stairs, doing her best to keep the magical basin from spilling its contents.

Hermione stalked into the Blacks' drawing room, and laid the Penseive on the coffee table. The next moment found her hollering throughout the house, "Ginny! I'm in the drawing room with the Penseive!" Hermione sat down on the couch, in front of the Penseive, while she waited for the other witch to arrive.

Eventually, Ginny's form graced the threshold of the doorway to the drawing room. The red-haired witch walked carefully into the room, hand fiddling with something in her pocket. When she reached the Penseive, and therefore Hermione, Ginny fished out the thing she'd been fiddling with: her wand, and a small sac of money.

Ginny forked over the bag containing 10 Galleons to Hermione. Hermione took the bag with slightly widened eyes, and glanced at Ginny. But Ginny's gaze was not attached to Hermione, but rather, to the Penseive.

Eyes still locked on the swirling depths, Ginny raised her wand to her temple, and pulled out a small stream of writhing blue. Gently, she tapped her wand against the outer ring of the bowl, watching as the memory easily and readily slipped off the tip of her wand, to fall and mix with the rest of the contents.

Ginny then smiled at the other witch in the room, as if a great weight was lifted from her. Ginny left the room, in order to allow Hermione to sift peaceably through the memory.

***.

Memory:

Ginny was walking, chained at the wrists, down a long stretch of alleyway, her brother beside her. The figure holding their bonds would, once in a while, tug sharply on their chains, if only to get amusement from them stumbling. One time that their captor did this, Ginny tripped on a partially uprooted stone, and fell in the puddle ahead. For the rest of the journey through the alley, Ginny was left shivering in wet clothes, and the musky odor affiliated with the puddle, clung to Ginny like the Plague. It was all Ginny could do to prevent herself from bursting into tears.

With a final, sharp tug, they reached the end of the alley, where a wagon of sorts, awaited. Two other cloaked figures appeared from around the sides of the wagon. The one that had captured Ginny and George held their chains aloft. Without a moment's hesitation, Ginny and George were being herded like cattle into the back of the wagon.

After they were shoved brutally inside, the door to freedom slammed behind them, and the locking latch fell into place with a 'snick!'

George and Ginny heard the footsteps of the strangers walking past outside, to the front of the carriage. With a jerk, the wagon plowed forward. Ginny tried to reach into her pocket, which held her wand, but with the way they were shackled, her hands couldn't even reach the mouth of the opening. She turned to her brother and asked him to try her pocket, but he wasn't able to fit both hands through the hole.

George and Ginny looked at each other, wondering what they'd gotten themselves into. The clucking noise had the two snapping out of their reverie. They peered about the interior of the wagon, veiled by darkness. After some squinting, they managed to distinguish a few moving shadows.

One such shadow deemed it safe to scurry from its hiding place to greet the newcomers. As the creature moved closer, Ginny and George were able to see what it was: a rooster. It crept cautiously toward Ginny and George, its jerking movements unsettling the girl slightly.

George looked at the fowl, a small smile curving his lips. He asked the cock, quite seriously, "So… how are you doing?" Apparently, the Silencing Charm had worn off.

The rooster pecked at his shoelace in answer. "Oh? Not so good huh? That's understandable." George conversed.

Ginny whispered to George, "Your little friend there is probably on death row. These people will most likely have him for dinner. You know, roast rooster?"

George's handcuffed hands darted out to cover the rooster's head, which was small enough for his shackled hands to get around. He pointedly elbowed Ginny. "Not in font of him!" George let out a yelp as his newfound 'friend' karate-pecked him on the hand. Ginny shooed the bird away.

The unsettled rooster disturbed the rest within the Coop-de-Wagon. Soon, chickens, and feathers, and bird crap were flying everywhere, and every which way. Ginny was shrieking madly, batting away clawed feet. George seemed to have lost it, laughing like a lunatic just released from the Looney Bin.

A banging coming from the direction of the front, had all movement in the back ceasing. "Quiet back there! Otherwise, the chickens won't be the only ones roasting over a fire tonight!"

The voice of one of the men in front, seemed to calm the poultry, although, several were still attached to Ginny's arms, head, and stomach. Ginny would have totally failed as a scarecrow. The rooster was busily clawing its way up George's back, making sure to dig in, here and there, while some of the hens pecked at George's purple-pimples.

Finally, the pair managed to de-roosterize themselves, and reoccupy their previous seats. Ginny turned morosely to George. "Ick! Look at what those beasts did to me! And one of them even laid an egg in my hair, which, of course, cracked, and ended up making a mess of my hair!"

"Huh. That's odd. I thought that Harry's hair resembled more of a bird's nest." Ginny whacked him for that one.

"Besides, Gin, I don't think that was an egg."

It was a very long carriage ride.

***.

Eventually, the wagon came to a complete stop. Ginny and George had closed their eyes, a mile or two back, trying to get some rest. They were jolted awake by the sound of the wagon door creaking open. The two red-heads gazed blearily at their three captors, the realm of dreams momentarily addling their minds. But the shock of reality slammed back into them, when their eyes were assaulted by a radiant light outside the wagon.

Before either could say a word, they were hauled outside the confines of the wagon. As their eyes adjusted to the light around them, they were able to make out their surroundings.

They were in some sort of clearing, with dense forest and underbrush as its border. There were tents and other structures littered throughout the expanse of tree-free earth. The dazzling light they'd seen before, was actually a large fire set in the center of the clearing. Its flames crackled merrily into the night, spitting embers out gleefully. There were at least twenty or so hooded figures huddled about the fire, and, if Ginny had to guess, she'd say there were probably more in the scattered structures. They were at some sort of camp.

Their sightseeing was rudely interrupted by the three captors pulling on their chains. They towed Ginny and George into the fire light, provoking the intrigue of their fellows. Ginny and George shrunk against their piercing stares. Finally, one of the fire inhabitants raised his voice in question, "An' wha' kind o' lot h've we got 'ere?"

The man that had yelled at Ginny and George earlier, spoke up, "Found this bunch wanderin' the streets of Diagon Alley." He gestured toward the older, slightly hunched figure that had caught Ginny and George, as he said this.

"Ahh. Reckon they'll fetch us a fine price, do yah?"

They all seemed to eyeball George and Ginny with that statement.

"With those kind of clothes? I'd highly doubt it. At the most, 5 Galleons each, if any at all," the Yelling-Man said. Ginny opened her mouth to reply indignantly, but a sharp elbow in her side, had her snapping her mouth closed tightly. She looked over at her brother; he shook his head in warning.

"Gah! It's jus' like you ta brin' back a bunch o' homeless runts again! Yorick'll h've our 'eads 'cause o' you! Yah kno' we need all the mon'y we can get!" Hollered the same man from the group.

"Well, what should we do with'em?" The Yelling Man asked.

The man from the crowd waved his hand once, as if shooing a pesky bug, "Toss'em in with the ot'ers, 'til we're ready fer the ransom." Then the man sat back down, melding with the sea of black.

George and Ginny were heaved, none too gently, toward one of the structures; apparently, their captors were not very pleased with the knowledge that their prisoners would fail to gain them a good profit. They were quickly pushed through the door, with the bolt sliding into place behind them.

"Oh look, dear sis! Another dark, enclosed space trapping us!" George exclaimed with mock enthusiasm. Ginny rolled her eyes.

"What do you think that man meant, when he said' with the others'?" Ginny asked George.

"Actually, I believe he said it more like: 'with the ot'ers'," George corrected his sister. Ginny's answering scowl was swallowed by the all-encompassing darkness.

Their mini-argument was interrupted, as another voice bit through the gloom. "Shut up! They'll punish all of us, if they hear you!" The voice whispered fervently.

George's eyes flashed, "I'll talk, if I want to talk!"

The voice that had previously spoken, let out a small hiss. "Yeah? Well, hiiissssssssssss to you too!" George gave a sharp nod, feeling that the issue had passed. Instead, he was proven wrong, a second later, as the owner of the voice's left shoe made contact with the side of George's skull. He collapsed ungracefully to the floor. The voice snickered.

Ginny was about to tell the voice off for resorting to physically assaulting her brother, while simultaneously abusing perfectly good footwear, but a cold hand touching hers, banished the thought. Ginny gazed down at her still-shackled hands, but the only difference, was that the right was captured in another, smaller hand. Ginny peered into two, blue pearls within a small face, draped in dirty-blond hair. A little girl, about 7, or 8 years of age stood before her, clasping her hand tightly.

The little girl opened her mouth to speak. "Miss, you can't talk, because they don't like it when we talk." Her eyes were pleading as she whispered this. Ginny, not being able to resist appeasing the cute child before her, nodded her head in assent. The little girl gave a weak smile, and slipped back into the shadows waltzing about the enclosed space. Ginny opened and closed the hand that the girl had held; it was as if the girl had never appeared.

A soft whimper had Ginny leaping out of her thoughts. She crouched down where the sound was emitting from, and had to use both handcuffed hands, to cover George's mouth. "Ssshhhh!" she hissed in his ear.

George's voice sounded muffled as he answered, "Oh, what? You're trying to shut me up now, too?" George's voice rose with every word he spoke in the sentence, until he was shouting the last word.

Ginny was literally considering knocking her own brother out, when the door to their prison rattled open with a condescending crash. One of the black cloaked figures from outside, stormed in. "Will you impertinent little wasps SHUT UP!" Oh. It was no one they'd met yet. Yippee!

He closed the portal behind him, as he stalked the room with his wand held aloft, tip glowing softly. George had been silenced by now. The man crept into the more shadowed region of the enclosure, the shadows themselves stealthily slinking away as the light hit them.

Suddenly, the man's hand shot out, and grabbed a hold of something that found it far too late to flee. The man pulled the creature into the ring of wand light. His hand was gripping a wad of dirty-blond hair attached to a little head with sapphire blue eyes. Ginny nearly choked.

The girl whimpered slightly as the man's hold tightened considerably. "Oh. There, there, little girl. There's no reason to cry on my account," The man stated in a mocking voice. "You'd flatter me too much, because I haven't even done anything to you yet," He whispered close to her ear.

"Now," he continued in a harder tone, "What have we told you about speaking? Hmmm?"

The girl took in a shaky breath before replying. "To not to."

"That's right," He purred, tugging sharply on her hair. The girl let out a yelp. "So why didn't you inform your new friends of this, eh?"

"I-I-I d-did, s-s-sir," the girl was tripping over her words by now.

"Oh! So they refused to listen to you, did they?" His eyes momentarily darted in the direction where Ginny and George were. "Well, I guess we'll have to show them what happens when they don't follow the rules, huh?" The girl shook her head vigorously 'no'. "Glad you agree with me."

Ginny and George barely batted an eye, before the girl was writhing on the floor in pain, under the Cruciatus Curse. Ginny was about to jump to her feet to defend the girl, but she was beaten to the act, when one of the shifting shadows sprang from its shelter, toward the man and girl. "Stop!" It yelled. "Leave her alone! She didn't do anything!" The boy that had leapt from the shadows sounded just like the voice that had been arguing with George a little while ago. He also looked kind of familiar too. Where had Ginny seen him before? She couldn't recall.

Even before he could reach either figure, the curse was turned on him. His body fell to the floor with a thud, convulsing madly as he screamed out his pain.

Ginny couldn't take it anymore. She stood shakily from her position on the ground, and shouted, "Don't do that! Please, stop it! We're the ones who wouldn't listen to them!"

"Yeah," George chimed in, "Punish us instead!"

Apparently, the figure took their advice, because within the moment, Ginny and George were joining the torture party. The pain was like fire spreading through her veins. As the fire continued through her system, it left ice in its wake, freezing and burning Ginny at the same time. The sound of screaming could be heard dully in her ears; she wasn't sure if it was her, or someone else. Eventually she blacked out from the pain.

***.

Ginny's mind awoke slowly, escaping from a place far away from where she was.

The first thing she realized was the hammering of hooves.

The next, was that she was moving.

Third, it was dark.

Fourth, her wrists were still handcuffed.

And, finally, she had a pounding headache.

She sat up with some difficulty, in the carriage. Her eyes scanned the pitch blackness, but couldn't find what she was looking for.

A voice next to her ear had her jump a bit, "Ahh. You're awake, dear ol' sis of mine."

"George!" Ginny cried happily.

"I am he," George said. "Funny, how that guy actually listened to what we said." Ginny silently agreed with George.

"Hey, George," Ginny began.

"Yeah?"

"Do you know where we're going and what happened to the other two?"

"I believe they're attempting that ransom, they spoke of earlier. They pried out of me where we're staying when they tossed us in here. Stupid Legilimins.

"But as for those other kids? I don't know. I passed out before that bloke finished with us. Sorry."

Ginny sighed heavily.

"Say, Gin. Do you want to meet my newest friend?"

Ginny looked questioningly at George. George regally presented to Ginny a small white rat that he'd apparently found in the confines of the carriage. "His name is Fufu-cuddly-kins. I found him when he was chewing on my sneaker. Ain't he adorable?"

"Umm… Very… cute, George." Ginny struggled to find words to describe the abomination her brother held.

"When we get back, I was thinking of basing one of my new products off his fur. Great inspiration the little guy is." George continued to coo over his rat.

"George, I say this because I love you. And I'm your sister and I care for you.

"You've gone completely off the deep end! I mean, what on Earth could you use rat fur for? Here's some cuddly little muffs made of rat fur! They may be itchy and full of fleas and lice, and based off a creature that might have mange, but they sure keep your hands warm!" Ginny exploded.

George had an alarmed look on his face at Ginny's explosion, which easily transformed into a crestfallen one.

Seeing the effect of what she'd said, she immediately tried to repent. "I'm sorry, George. It's just all of this pressure and stress… it's getting to me, that's all. I think it's wonderful that you're trying to give that rat a home, but it's a wild animal, and he'd probably prefer to stay here." Ginny mumbled the last part to herself, "Plus, it probably has rabies."

George sighed, and released his rat. It scurried away and out of sight. "Bye, Fufu-cuddly-kins."

George and Ginny huddled together until they fell asleep.

***.

Ginny was forced awake, as someone brutally yanked on her chains, forcing her forward, out of the wagon, and she then ate dirt. (It wasn't very tasty)

She looked up at her captor; it was the same figure that had captured them in the alley. The form held both Ginny's and George's chains. "I'm going to try for 20 Galleons. What do you say? Think you'll fit the bill?" The figure purred.

She lugged them up the steps of Grimmauld Place and rang the doorbell…

***.

End of Memory:

Hermione gasped for air as she flew out of the Penseive. My word… No wonder why they were so cranky when they came home. Those were the first thoughts to go through her head. Then, she did little calculations and estimations in her head. Each one of the carriage rides had to be 20 to 30 minutes each. Their time at the camp had to have been less than that. 15 minutes, maybe? She couldn't be sure.

Ginny had also left her memory of her confrontations with Mrs. O'Brady and Luna in Hermione's care. Hermione smiled at the thought of not only having a witness for the First War, but the Second, as well. She was especially shocked and fond of Luna's tale.

As Hermione dashed off to the library to record these findings on paper, she shared a glance with the clock. 11:10 PM

Where on Earth were Harry and her Ronniekins?

***.

Harry and Ron:

"Whew! Harry, I'll never know how we managed to luck out of that one!" Ron gasped beside Harry in a side street, a block away from the main entrance to the Ministry of Magic.

"I'll say!" Harry panted back, hands on his knees, back hunched over.

"Hey…Harry… Do you still have the file?"

"But of course," Harry purred, presenting the trembling file, still silently screaming out its anger at the intrusion. "Wow, Ron. That was a pretty strong Silencing Spell you must have put on it."

Ron blushed slightly. "Well, Hermione has been helping me perfect my spell work, especially now, being an Auror and all," Ron stated bashfully.

"Hmmm… Running for our lives from people we know and trust, can really bring out the hunger in you," Harry mentioned, absentmindedly patting at his stomach region.

"Uh-huh. I'll say! Why, the last time we ate something had to be at least 6 hours, 45 minutes, and 36… 37 seconds ago," Ron muttered mournfully.

Harry let out a laugh. "Trust you to keep track of your latest meal by the seconds."

"Well… What should we do now?" Ron asked.

They both came up with the answer simultaneously, like a pair of telepathically connected twins. "Take Out!"

***.

It turned out that they ended up staying at the restaurant, whatever its name was. But the name didn't really matter. So long as their hunger was satisfied by delicious food, they wouldn't have cared if the name was "Winnie the Pooh's Piglet". (Which it was, in case you were wondering)

Ron had ordered spicy chicken wings, sausage with bacon, and a grilled ham and cheese sandwich. Harry had ordered onion soup, and fish and chips. They both had glasses of Iced Tea waiting impatiently next to their plates.

Within 45 minutes, the food and beverages had Apperated into their bellies. Harry and Ron both leaned back in their chairs, releasing satisfied sighs. "Harry, that was a very good meal," Ron told Harry, giving kudos to his friend. Then, Ron added on as an afterthought, "I wonder what time it is?"

Harry chuckled lightly at Ron's inability to spot the clock dangling from the far wall to their right. "Ron, I've got a riddle for you. What has two hands, always knows what time it is without the need of a watch, is there with you, whether you want it or not, and is hanging on that wall, over there?"

"Holy crap! They have Colin Creevey tacked to a wall?" Ron exclaimed, horrified, eyes widening in a comic manner.

Harry looked at his semi-rabid friend. "Oh, why did I even bother?

"I was talking about the clock on the wall, over there. Remember, you asked me what time it was?"

"Oh… So Colin isn't tacked to the wall?"

*sigh* "No, Ron. Creepy Creevey is not pinned to the wall."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Sooooo… What time does it say it is?"

"Err… 11:55 PM."

"…"

"…"

"…"

"…"

"…"

"…"

"…"

"…"

"….. Hermione is gonna skin us alive!" And without further adieu, the two dead boys Disapperated home, leaving behind a paid bill, and a lousy tip.

***.

With slightly glazed eyes, they landed, with a firm thud, on Grimmauld Place's doorstep. And, boy did their fates look grim, indeed.

The two boys had barely raised their hands to knock, when the door swung open. Apparently, Hermione had this uncanny sense, which told her when fresh-kill was around, like some type of whacked-out buzzard.

Hermione's eyes flashed dangerously, as they landed upon the two lone figures burdening the porch. She grabbed a hold of the front of their robes, hauling them inside the walls of the house. As Ron was being forced inside, alongside Harry, he had the sudden urge to cling desperately to the doorframe, and scream into the night, "Help! The monster is gong to get me!" But, he didn't. He knew matters would be worse if he did.

Hermione slammed the door to freedom behind them, the lock sliding into place with a sound of finality. Her back was to them, her front facing the door; she was taking in calming breaths.

"Hermione?" Ron ventured.

Hermione swirled around, voice cracking in the air like a whip. "Where were you? Do you have any clue how worried I've been? How much stress was adding to me with every tick of the clock that you weren't home?" Hermione gave a humorless laugh. "No. You didn't, did you? Oh, who cares if poor ol' Hermione grows gray hairs back home? So long as we get to do what we want… Gahh!

"Do you have any idea how unthoughtful all of that was? You completely disregarded the situation we are now in and the consequences that could come about, if we're caught. You didn't call. You didn't owl. You didn't Floo. You gave me no specifications of your conditions. Meanwhile, I have George and Ginny being hogtied and kidnapped, and being held for ransom! But, let's just let good little Hermione worry her head off, because we're Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley, and we can do whatever we please, without informing the people who care about us, first!" Hermione snarled, pinning the two in place with her death glare. Now, Ron was beginning to rethink his decision about the idea of screaming for help.

When Hermione opened her mouth to continue on with her tirade, Harry boldly cut her off, "Hermione, did you just say something about Ginny and George being kidnapped and held for ransom?"

"I did." She replied impertinently.

"Where are they now? Do you know who it was?"

"They're safely upstairs, resting. Though, they are a bit battered, and George is totally wiped out.

"As for your second question, follow me." With that, she led the pair into the drawing room, where a Penseive sat upon the table. Harry and Ron looked at Hermione. She gestured at the Penseive. With bravery the two did not quite feel, they glided over to where the Penseive sat, cold and waiting. Inhaling deep gulps of air, they plunged, head-first, into the Penseive. Hermione sat down on the couch she had occupied previously, and started filing her nails.

25 minutes later, and the duo were back in the drawing room. "There was some pretty messed up stuff in there," Ron commented. Hermione nodded in agreement.

Harry turned towards Ron. "Ron, do you remember what that one bloke said around that bonfire?"

"Yeah. Didn't he say something about… Yorick?" Ron's light bulb went bleeping on again. "Hey, you don't think…?"

"I do." Harry and Ron shared a look.

"What? What do you think?" Hermione demanded to know, annoyed that she was out of the knowledge loop.

"We believe that that was the camp of the last band of free Death Eaters; the ones still out to fulfill Voldie's wishes – the ones still out there to get me."

"Oh, bother."

A/N: So, good chapter? Please leave your thoughts and review!