Chapter Ten: As Morning Shows the Day

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Somewhere in the Midlands, observed in silence by five other figures, a tall man with glasses that kept slipping down his nose consulted a fragile document for a moment, then made some final adjustments to the complex mechanism in front of him.

With exquisite care, he inserted a piece of wire into a small aperture at the side of the machine and put the other end into a narrow-necked vial containing a yellow liquid. Then he picked up a small, corroded, circular object and delicately inserted it into a recess of exactly the same size. He placed the tip of long, narrow tool into a little crevice and turned it until there was an audible click. A faint whine began to emit from the machine, and a halo of pale green light started to collect around it.

He gave a sigh of gratification, pulled his rickety seat back from the table and rubbed his hands together with satisfaction. "Now," he said looking around at his companions, "we wait. In five or six hours I believe we will begin to feel the effect as the machine starts to absorb the Leode-wyrcan energy. We must be prepared."

A palpable sense of tension descended. A man lying on a dirty mat gave a gasping and humourless cough of laughter. "We all have something to look forward to, then."

Cross-legged on the floor, a thin, dark man, his mouth moving constantly in a chewing motion, whispered inaudibly to himself, and scratched at his arm with dirty, broken fingernails.

Clearing his throat, a young man with fair hair tied back into a ponytail, drew his shoulders back and lifted his chin in determination. "Then I shall take this final opportunity to ensure our demands and objectives are clear to all. I shall return as soon as I have done so."

A big man with small, close-set eyes looked thoughtful for a moment, then poked his wand behind the collar at the back of his robe in order to scratch his back. He gave a small grunt of pleasure.

The smallest figure hopped on to a box, its large ears standing firm with approval. "You has done well. Ministry of Magic has to pay attention now! They is not going to ignore us any more! You two," it pointed with a long finger at the biggest man and the tall man, go and see if the prisoners is all right." The finger wavered slightly. "They is our next problem."

"Why don't we just Obliviate them and let them go?" The tall man sounded irritable and pushed his glasses up his nose again. "I really don't see what use they are."

The man who was lying down dragged himself into a sitting position and gasped, "Who is going to do that then? You?"

The tall man looked affronted. "It is a crude technique, without subtlety, and as such, one I never felt the need to learn."

The breathless man grunted derisively. "So who else would care to do it? Or shall we let Tony try again?"

All eyes turned to the thin dark man who blinked in surprise when he realised everyone was looking at him.

The other man coughed and continued. "Or perhaps our resident poet can oblige?"

The fair-haired man drew himself up to his full height. "Of all the morally repugnant practices of the wizarding world, the Obliviation of innocent Muggles is one of the worst. It is entirely against my principles."

"Then," the breathless man lay down again. "I suggest we look after them for now."

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As a half-hearted shaft of morning sun peeked through the skylight, heralding an improvement in the weather, the door opened and another box of food was wordlessly shoved through. Jack investigated and found exactly the same contents as the previous day's offering, with every appearance of having been acquired at the same time. A cold burger made an unappealing breakfast, and Ilona turned her nose up, fastidiously removing the stiff grey slab of meat with her finger and thumb and eating only the bun, her face screwed up in disgust. Jack had a more robust constitution, but even so, the experience was lacking in pleasure.

A little while later, they were escorted outside again; this time by the big man Jack thought of as 'Pig-face' and the worried-looking tall man with glasses. It seemed that there was no immediate plan to do anything sinister with the two prisoners. Jack had the impression that their captors were at something of a loss, and his anxiety of the previous day gave way to a more general curiosity. Both of the men wore strange hats and long coats with wide collars. The coats reached nearly to the ground and had big, loose pockets at the sides. Jack's attention was caught by something poking out from the big man's pocket and an interesting idea occurred to him.

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"Them are wizards," he told Ilona a little later, through a mouthful of stale bread. "Well, that little 'un's an alien, But them others are wizards. The Pig-face one's got a wand!

Ilona nodded. "I believe anything now," she said. "And I think they not know what to do with us. I wish they just let us go home." Her fear seemed to have evaporated, and she was beginning to show an encouraging spirit.

Jack lay on his belly on the pallet and scratched a picture of Arcturus Dark's ship, the Terapene, into the rough timber with an old nail while he thought. Absent-mindedly, he pulled a sharp strip of wood away from where it had split at the edge of a plank. It was about the size of a wand. A bit sharp at one end and too fat at the other, but he reckoned he could tidy it up. He took it over to the wall and tried rubbing it against the rough bricks. The wood was a soft, splintery sort, and dusty grains of sawdust started to drop to the ground. As he scrubbed the sharp edges away from the scrap of wood, a plan began to take shape in Jack's mind. He lacked Arcturus Dark's technological advantages, but he was a practical boy and accepted the limitations of his situation with a degree of equanimity.

"If I had a proper wand, I could magic us out," he informed Ilona with unfounded confidence. "So I'm gonna nick Pig-face's."

Ilona raised her eyebrows. "How you do that, Jack? He much bigger than you."

"We gotta distract him. You can pretend to be poorly. You can fall down an' be unconscious."

Ilona looked repulsed. "You are joking, Jack! I not falling down on purpose so that horrible lump put his hands all over me. I can do better things than that."

This was what Jack liked to hear. "We gotta get 'im on 'is own," he said, and outlined his plan.

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Ginny had risen at an unnatural hour of the morning to go training in Swansea. James and Albus had breakfasted without complaint on something brown and sweet, and Harry had just settled Lily back into her cot when there was a knock at the front door.

Another unexpected visitor! Might it be Julia again? Hurrying downstairs before another knock woke Lily, he trod on a toy dragon, which broke underfoot. James started to cry. "Oh James," Harry said, "I'll fix it in a few minutes, just let me get the door." Unmollified, James continued to wail and Albus decided to join in. Harry fully expected Lily to do the same at any moment.

The visitor standing on the step looking awkward and self-conscious, was probably the last person he had expected to see. Harry had to raise his voice above the insistent protests of his disgruntled children. "Dudley! Merlin's beard! Well, this is a surprise! Er, will you come in?"

Dudley seemed reluctant.

"No-one is going to give you a tail or a giant tongue Dudley, you have my word. And these two are noisy but generally harmless." Harry was surprised to see a reluctant smile hover for a moment on Dudley's lips. "You're in uniform. Is this an official visit?"

"Yeah, well as it happens," said Dudley, "I do need to speak to you about something."

"Well, whatever it is, the doorstep isn't the place." Harry stood aside and waved his cousin into the sitting room, moving some toys and picking a cushion up from the floor. Dudley sat down on the edge of a chair with his hands on his knees, tapping his fingers nervously. James and Albus ceased their complaining in order to observe the visitor better.

James trotted over and tugged at Harry's robes. Harry leaned down to him.

"Anyway, Daddy," whispered James. "That man is a p'liceman."

"So he is, James," said Harry. How did you know that?

James nodded wisely. "Grandad showed me one. At the Queen's house.

"Oh yes," Harry agreed. "Your grandad likes policemen. And the Queen."

"So anyway, Daddy, why is that p'liceman here?"

"I expect he has come to check that you are being good."

Wide-eyed with uncertainty, James stared at Dudley.

Dudley gave James a friendly wink, and the little boy looked reassured.

"I thought you were based in the Midlands?" said Harry. "How come you're here at this time?" He looked at the clock. "It's only seven-thirty."

"I set out early. I didn't want to wait. And my DI doesn't know I'm here."

"You've lost weight," said Harry, "you're looking very well."

"Yes, well, I don't want to end up like Dad, do I?"

"No." Harry recalled the last time he had seen Dudley and his aunt Petunia two years earlier at Vernon's funeral. Vernon had, according to Mrs Figg's undiplomatically loud whisper, had such a massive stroke, he had been dead before he hit the ground.

"So, Dudley, why don't you tell me what brings you here."

Dudley looked directly at Harry. "There's a – situation. I don't know what's going on, but it involves Your Lot. And when you start kidnapping us, it's getting out of hand."

Harry's heart speeded up. "Kidnapping? Are you saying a wizard has kidnapped a Muggle?"

"Two bloody . . . Muggles. And one is only a boy! Ten years old, Harry!" Dudley reached into his pocket and handed two rather poorly copied photographs to Harry. One showed a pretty, cheerful looking young blonde woman and the other a boy with messy red hair and a plentiful dusting of freckles.

"Shit!" Harry sat down heavily. "Don't repeat that please, James. Are you sure, Dudley? Tell me what happened."

Dudley drew a deep breath. "An elderly woman named Ellen Smith died unexpectedly in an old folks' home yesterday." He held his hand up. "I know what you're going to say. How unexpected can it be? But the body was ‒ stiff. Hard. Not normal rigor mortis. And she was holding this." He reached inside his stab vest and pulled out Ellen's wand.

"Bloody hell." Harry held his hand out and Dudley passed the wand over. Harry weighed it in his palm for a moment. He could hear James behind him quietly whispering "Bloody hell and shit," to Albus, but ignored it.

Dudley carried on. "Shortly afterwards we discovered that one of the care assistants was missing. Ilona, there." He indicated one of the photographs. "We found her phone in Ellen's room. No one saw anything but the manager reported hearing a loud noise. Like a firework? Then a few hours later, the boy was reported missing by his mother when he didn't return home after school. It turned out he had been bunking off. We found his school bag and games console in the churchyard. Again, no one saw anything but the churchwarden reported hearing a sharp crack at about the same time as Ilona went missing. I know what that bloody noise means, Harry. It means it's something to do with Your Lot!"

Harry was at a loss. "This Ellen Smith. Who was she? What about her family?"

"She had none. That's another odd thing. Her next of kin was listed as an old chap called Isaac Prewett who lives in the village. No relation, and never seems to have visited. He says he acted for her in a purely administrative capacity, looking after her affairs. He's some sort of retired solicitor, I think. He said she had no close relatives, and she had left everything to the Church in her will."

Harry rubbed the wand thoughtfully with his thumb. "I'm going to hang on to this for now, Dudley. I want the name and address of the man Ellen named as her next of kin."

Dudley chewed his lip for a moment. "My DI has called a press conference for nine this morning," he said, "and I think he is going to connect the death of Ellen Smith with the disappearances. It might get ‒ complicated."

Harry groaned. "I'll have one of my liaison officers at your station in a couple of hours. I want to know what's going on, too. If there are wizards behind this, I will get to the bottom of it, I promise."

Dudley stood up. "Thanks, Harry," he said. He took a card and pen from his pocket, wrote something on the blank side, and handed it over. "This is where I'm based; Upper Layford police station. The address you want is on the back. I, er ‒ know we haven't always been the best of friends, Harry, but I think you're okay, really. And believe it or not, I'm okay, too."

"I know you are, Dud," said Harry, feeling oddly moved. "Keep me posted if there are any developments."

Dudley crouched down beside James and Albus. "I'm glad to say you two seem to be very good boys. I shall write that in my report. I might have to come back and check up again, though, so don't let your guard down!"

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When Ginny got home an hour later, she deposited her muddy Quidditch kit in a heap on the floor of the back porch and flopped on to the sofa.

"I'm so out of condition!" she complained. Harry sat down beside her and pushed her head forward, kneading at the knots in the muscles of her neck and shoulders.

"Ooh!" she groaned. "That feels so good, Harry. Don't stop."

"I'm afraid I'll have to," said Harry with regret. "I've got to go out." He told her about his visitor. "I've got to go down to the Ministry," he said. "I need to send someone up there to keep things under control. Sorry, love." He kissed the back of her neck and sniffed. "You need a shower."

"You silver-tongued charmer, you," grumbled Ginny.

"You," he kissed her neck again, "always smell delicious. And now I really do have to go."

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At the Ministry, half an hour later, Harry went looking for Sally-Anne. He found her in the Atrium polishing her wand and looking rather bored.

"Morning, Sally-Anne," he said, have you been assigned to anything yet?"

She shook her head. "I went to see my granddad yesterday, and I've been following up some paperwork for Minister Shacklebolt, but I could do with a proper job. Have you got something for me?"

"Looks like it," said Harry. "How is your granddad, by the way?"

"Still the same," she said. "The doctors don't have any idea what is wrong. He's had a Muggle brain scan and everything looks perfectly normal, apparently. But he doesn't know us, he doesn't know where he is. He doesn't even remember his own name. It's horrible, Harry!"

"I can imagine," he said, with sympathy. "He's up in Shropshire, isn't he?"

She nodded. "He's in hospital in Shrewsbury at the moment."

"This might suit you then," said Harry. "There's been an incident ‒ a kidnapping, apparently, of two Muggles. A woman and a child. There is reason to believe that wizards are involved."

Sally-Anne looked disbelieving. "Surely not! Why?"

Harry shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine, but I'd like someone up there to stop any wild rumours, you know. Keep the Muggle press under control. At least until we know for sure if wizards are implicated."

"That's what I'm good at," she said. "Where am I going?"

"Er," Harry looked at the card Dudley had given him. "Upper Layford police station?"

Sally-Anne's eyes widened. "You're joking. That's where my sister works!"

"Really? That's a, ah . . . coincidence. You'll liaise with a constable Dursley. He's my cousin, and you won't need to modify his memory. In fact," he said, remembering Julia's distress in the Ministry archives, "just keep it all to a minimum will you? Only use the Obliviate charm if it's absolutely necessary."

Sally-Anne looked surprised. "You're the boss," she said. "I'll get up there now."

"Thanks, Sally," he said. "Report back when you can."

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It had gone ten by the time Dudley returned to Upper Layford police station from his unofficial visit to Cambridgeshire. Dawn called him over.

"You'll never guess what," she said. "My sister's arrived! She's based here while the investigation into Jack Hargreaves' disappearance is going on."

"Oh!" said Dudley, surprised. "I thought you said she worked for Military Intelligence?"

"Ah," Dawn looked shifty. "Not exactly. More a sort of, er, Special Branch."

"Sort of Special Branch? Come on, Dawn!"

"Top secret, you know." She put her finger to her lips. "It's all above board. She's just been talking to the press."

"Oh yes. How did the press conference go?"

Dawn shrugged. "As well as you'd expect for a live broadcast. Karen made a tearful plea for Jack's return. DI Price suggested Ilona's disappearance might be connected and appealed for information. They showed some photos. That was it, really."

"No mention of anything else?" Dudley asked tentatively.

Dawn looked surprised. "No. What else would there be?"

"Oh, nothing important," said Dudley with relief.

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"Dudley Dursley?" The tall woman in military uniform who stood in the doorway had an imposing air. "Can I speak with you for a moment?" She beckoned him into the interview room she had appropriated as her office, and closed the door behind him.

"You are Harry's cousin?"

"I see." Dudley understood. "You're one of Them. Don't try any of your funny business on me!"

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Dudley felt considerable sympathy for his DI as he called the team together for a briefing. Detective Inspector Price tugged at his tie and looked slightly bemused, as he addressed them. He indicated Sally-Anne who stood at his side, her face stern, and her bearing authoritative. "I expect you have all met Sergeant Perks's sister, Commander Sally-Anne Perks, here. She will be taking charge of the investigation for the time being. All enquiries and press requests should be directed to her."

There was a murmur of disquiet in the room.

"But Guv‒" someone said.

"It's all perfectly above board," muttered DI Price, as if he couldn't quite believe what he was saying. He mopped his brow with a purple handkerchief. "I, er, I'm feeling a little under the weather. I'm taking the rest of the day off. Address your concerns to Commander Perks."

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Later in the day, Jack and Ilona found themselves the recipients of yet another box of cold takeaway food. This time, even Jack was hard-pressed to force it down. He made a manful attempt, but it rested, unmoving, in his stomach for some time and left a nasty taste in his mouth when he burped.

It put Ilona into a dreadful mood. "We going to starve to bloody death, before those bloody alien-wizard-idiots let us go!" She snatched one of the wrapped packages and flung it into a corner where it lay accusingly, like a small, dead animal.

When the big wizard returned with the fair-haired one, to accompany them outside again, she made her feelings clear. "You trying to poison us now?" she snapped. "Why you not just kill us straight away!"

The fair-haired man looked horrified. "We're not going to kill you. In Merlin's name what an appalling idea! I thought you would like this, erm, McDougall's food. I understood this was a popular sort of meal for, er, your sort of people."

"Really, are you stupid?" She ripped the paper from a burger and thrust the congealed, rancid smelling thing under his nose. "You eat it!"

The man recoiled. "Ah, perhaps you do have some cause for complaint. I will seek advice. Outside, now." The two wizards urged Jack and Ilona before them across the yard. Ilona went first as usual, shadowed by the biggest wizard.

"You not need to stand so close!" she insisted furiously as she dragged the sagging door as shut as it would go. "I hardly likely to climb through bloody roof am I? Bloody pervert!"

The fair-haired man with the ponytail was leaning against the remains of a rusty crane, preoccupied with writing something into a notebook, He paid Jack little attention, but every time the boy moved more than an inch, the man looked up suspiciously.

Jack's foot was sore where the wand he had made was tucked inside his sock and was chafing between his ankle and his shoe. He gave a heavy sigh and thought he should try to make conversation. "What are y' writin'?" he asked, opening his eyes wide in an enquiring way he found sometimes lulled grown-ups who did not know him very well into a false sense of security.

The fair-haired man looked up from his work in surprise. "I'm a poet," he explained.

"Oh that's very interestin'!" said Jack insincerely. He racked his brains. On rare occasions, Miss Sharples had managed to smuggle what he thought of as 'sissy stuff' past his natural defences. "I know a pome," he said. "Shall I tell it you?"

"Ah, of course!" said the man. "It is a marvellous thing for one so young to take such an interest."

"Right-oh," said Jack. "I can't 'zactly remember all of it." He stuck his chest out and squeezed his eyes shut in concentration.

"If you can keep your head,'" he said, "'when all about are losing theirs an' blamin' it on you,'" ‒ that line had struck a sharp chord with him at the time. "An' I can't jus' remember the next bit, but then it goes, 'If you can meet with triumph and disaster, and treat them two imposters jus' the same.' Then there's another bit I can't remember, an' then it goes, 'If you can fill the unforgivin' minute with sixty secon's worth of distance run, yours is the earth an' everythin' that's in it. An' what is more you'll be a man, my son.' It was written by Mr Kipling. He makes cakes an' all."

The man looked impressed. "Would you like to hear one of my own works?" There was a faint note of pleading in his voice that Jack instinctively recognised. He sensed victory within his grasp.

"Oh, yes, please," he lied. "I'd like that very much indeed."

Ilona emerged and Pig-face led her back to them.

"Go on, your turn." Pig-face gave Jack a push towards the toilet. Jack gave him a dirty look and turned his attention back to the fair-haired man, widening his eyes again. "I really want to read your pomes. Please can I have a lend of your book?" He gestured to the notebook.

"Borrow," corrected the man. "I suppose so. I shall not stand in the way of your thirst for enlightenment. Just for a minute." He handed the book over with slight reluctance.

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When Jack came out into the yard again, he pre-empted the fair-haired man who was already holding his hand out for the book's return.

"I've got yer book safe," said Jack reassuringly. "I'm looking after it. I'll give it yer back in a minute." He smiled at the man. "It's very good indeed. I spesh'ly like them bits with warriors an' battles an' that!"

Ilona stumbled and grabbed the fair-haired man by the arm. "I so hungry," she said weakly, leaning on him.

Jack quietly dropped the book on the ground behind him. "We gotta get Ilona back indoors," he advised the two wizards urgently. "She'll be very poorly, else. You don't want her to be poorly do you?"

The fair man pushed Jack in front of him and Ilona dragged heavily on the two wizards, stumbling and emitting weak, feminine moans of distress until they were back in the furnace room.

Jack opened his eyes wide and clapped his hand to his mouth in a gesture of dismay, "Oh 'eck!" He gazed at the fair-haired man with a well-rehearsed expression of guilt-stricken sorrow. I must've dropped your book of pomes. It must've happened when Ilona was poorly 'cause you haven't given us proper food."

"Damn it! My notebook!" The fair-haired man shot out of the room.

"You very big man," said Ilona to Pig-face admiringly. "Very strong I think?" She reached up and gave the man's arm a squeeze. He started and looked, frankly, terrified. Ilona opened her blue eyes wide. "Oh!" she said, in what Jack considered a very silly voice, "oh, you have got very big muscles!" Then she did a blinking thing with her eyelashes that Jack also thought was silly, but it had a remarkable effect on Pig-face, whose expression became vacant. His small eyes misted over and a daft smile rested on his lips.

Ilona kept patting pig-face's arm and smiling up at him and Jack seized his chance. Pulling the fake wand out of his sock where it had been giving him a blister, he took up position behind the big man. Holding his breath, he slid the real wand out of the loose pocket on the man's long coat and slipped his own substitute in. It was amazingly easy. He tiptoed back a few feet and poked the wand down the sleeve of his school sweater just as the fair-haired man came back in, looking annoyed and picking specks of mud off his notebook. "Time to go," he said. "Come on, Gregory, whatever are you doing?" Pig-face blinked in confusion and snatched his arm away from Ilona.

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Jack was not of a nervous disposition. So far, the penalties for those of his schemes which had not been successful ‒ which, to be fair, was quite a high proportion ‒ had not been sufficiently unpleasant to act as an effective deterrent, and he never allowed failure to deter him from trying again. On this occasion though, there would be no second chance. He had a sneaking feeling that the consequences of failure this time might be less predictable and more painful than hitherto. If Pig-face looked for his wand now, the game would be up. Disaster could easily be seconds away, and Jack crossed his fingers, waiting for the wizards to lock the door behind them. His luck (often remarked on back at home, in less than complimentary terms) held. He heard the locking word and the latch clicked without incident. The fair-haired wizard must have secured the door.

"I got it!" said Jack, excited. "I got the wand!" He held his hand up, palm out, and Ilona high-fived him with a smile.

"We a good team, Jack," she said. "But what you do with it now?"

"I'm goin' to practise," said Jack, waving the wand about experimentally. He stuck his tongue between his teeth and thought hard.

Ilona sat down on her plank, pulled her blanket securely around her shoulders, leaned back against the wall and observed him.

"You really think you can make it work, Jack?"

Jack did not reply. He was concentrating, and his fingers were tingling.

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