THE LETTER

A/N: After the pleasant lull at the end of the last chapter, this one takes you back up the cliff where I'll have to leave you hanging again, at least for a little while. A few more plot twists and turns are in store, and soon we'll be heading to the Burrow for a Weasley family reunion which promises to be anything but dull. Happy reading and remember to keep those cards and letters (otherwise known as reviews) coming!

Chapter Eleven

Zabini was restocking the student cupboards in the potions classroom and so didn't immediately notice Harry standing in the doorway. When he did, he gave an almost comical start and nearly dropped the box he was holding which Harry could see was marked Bezoars.

"Potter," he said. "What are you. . ." Then he noticed the small, red-haired figure beside Harry and his breath escaped him in a kind of sibilant sigh.

"Hello, Blaise," Ginny said with a hesitant smile.

Zabini's eyes passed from Ginny to Harry and back again. It seemed to take him awhile, but he finally managed to arrange his features in their customary sneer.

"If you wanted to give your wife a treat, Potter, surely you could have thought of someplace a little more, er, romantic to take her," said Zabini, with a sweep of his free hand about the dungeon.

"May we come in?" Harry asked.

Zabini gave a jerky little nod that Harry interpreted as assent. He led Ginny into the classroom, closing the door behind them. Zabini had perched himself on the edge of a desk and was turning the bezoars over in his hand as though the writing on the side of the box was the most fascinating thing he'd ever read. He was, Harry noted, studiously avoiding Ginny.

"It's good to see you again, Blaise," Ginny said. "It's been a long time."

"Has it?" said Zabini, darting a quick look in her direction before returning his attention to the bezoars.

"Eighteen years," Ginny said.

"That long?" said Zabini, still not looking at her. "Well, that's. . . It's very. . ." He seemed momentarily at a loss for words, but recovered quickly. "Surely the two of you didn't come all this way for a trip down memory lane. What have I done to deserve the honor?"

"There's news of your cousin," Harry replied.

Zabini blinked. "You found him? Does he have the formulas? When can I . . . "

"I'm sorry," said Harry. "He's dead."

There was a long, very pregnant pause. "He was found at the bottom of a well near Ottery St. Catchpole last night," Harry went on. "Someone killed him and then dumped him there. They found the body last night."

Zabini expelled a long breath, but his face remained impassive. "The formulas?"

"Sorry. No."

Zabini said nothing. "I'm sorry," Harry said again. "I know this comes as a blow. . ."

"A blow?" said Zabini with a mirthless laugh. "That's an interesting way of putting it."

"Whoever killed your cousin has the formulas," Harry said. "I'm sure of it. I need your help to find them, Zabini. That is, if you're still interested."

Zabini placed the little box of bezoars in the cupboard. "I don't know what you think I can do. I've already told you all I know."

"I don't think you have," said Harry. "I think you know where McLaggen is. Or at least you have a pretty good idea where he might be."

Zabini's back stiffened, but he did not turn around. "I don't know why you'd think that. As I told you the other day, I barely knew McLaggen. I introduced him to Claude, that's all. I haven't had occasion to seek him out since."

"But he sought you out, didn't he?" said Harry. "He found out something about you. Maybe not you in particular, but someone close to you."

Zabini turned slowly. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I think he blackmailed you. You and your mother. I think that's why you introduced him to your cousin and persuaded him to offer McLaggen a job. It was a bribe to keep him silent."

"What a load of utter rubbish," Zabini said dismissively.

"I also think he used that knowledge to embroil Attor in the potions scheme," Harry continued as if Zabini had not spoken. "Not that your cousin likely needed much persuading. He wasn't the type to shrink from dangerous potions, was he? Not even those that kill with the efficiency and undetectability of the Avada Kedavra Curse. After all, he'd already used them on at least seven different occasions."

Zabini's face was tight and angry. "You've missed your calling, Potter. You ought to be writing fiction."

"Attor panicked, though," Harry went on. "Something happened to frighten him and he tried to pull out. But he was much too knowledgeable to be allowed to live with his knowledge. The last time you saw him, you said he seemed terrified. Did he know his life was in danger?"

"You already have all the answers," said Zabini. "Why ask me?"

"You didn't seem terribly surprised just now when I told you that your cousin was dead," Harry said. "Why is that, Zabini?"

"I didn't have anything to do with his death, if that's what you're asking."

"I wasn't suggesting you did. But I do think you already knew about it. Or at least you had a pretty strong suspicion. In fact, I think you knew that when you came to see me the other day. But Attor wasn't really your chief concern, was he? That's what you told me so I wouldn't suspect what you already knew. But I'd be willing to bet that you're far less grieved over our discovery of your cousin's body than you are about the fact that we didn't find the formulas at the bottom of that well alongside him."

Zabini said nothing, but a muscle worked in his jaw. "I'm in a position to offer you a deal, Zabini," said Harry. "I've already spoken with the Ministry's chief prosecutor."

"You're delusional, Potter," Zabini spat. "Especially if you think I'm going to have anything to do with that Mudblood. . ."

"Don't call her that!"

Zabini's eyes snapped to Ginny, who had spoken for the first time in a long while. "She's my sister-in-law," Ginny said. "She's also one of the most gifted witches I've ever known. Don't call her that, please."

Zabini's gaze faltered at the coldness in Ginny's voice. He turned his back again and, with considerably less bravado, asked, "Why would I need a deal? Am I under suspicion?"

"Other than for withholding evidence about a known fugitive, you mean?" Harry replied. "Actually, Zabini, I was thinking of your mother. Help us find McLaggen, and your cooperation will be weighed against anything he might have to tell us about her. I'm also prepared to arrange protection for both of you. No one will be able to touch you until this matter is resolved."

"It's the right thing to do, Blaise," Ginny said. "It's the best thing for you and the best thing for your conscience. I know you have one. I've seen it."

Zabini still had his back turned. Ginny walked over to him, placing her hand on his arm. He leapt as though burned, staring at her as if she had just tried to hex him. Undaunted, she touched him again and this time he did not pull away.

"I know what it means to be afraid for someone you love," Ginny said quietly. "These people threatened our children, and I've been terribly afraid for them. I'm sure your mother would understand. You wouldn't be half so devoted to her if she wasn't equally devoted to you."

Harry was a little uneasy about the direction Ginny was taking. He wasn't sure sentiment was the best tactic to use with someone like Zabini.

"They're good children, Blaise," Ginny was saying. "We have three, two boys and a girl, and they're all so beautiful. I have pictures. Would you like to see them?"

Zabini stared, mesmerized, as Ginny removed several moving photographs from the pocket of her robes. Harry recognized them even from a distance. He had taken them himself just this past summer.

"This is James," Ginny said. "He's our oldest. A bit of a handful at times, but he's a good boy, really. He's starting Hogwarts this year. You'll have him in your potions classes. And that's Al. Well, we call him Al. His name is really Albus. Albus Severus."

"Severus?" said Zabini. "You named him after. . ."

"Professor Snape. Yes, it was Harry's idea. I wasn't too sure at first, but Harry said Severus Snape was one of the bravest men he ever knew. Even though he was a Slytherin."

Zabini continued staring at the pictures. "The little girl," he said. "She looks like you."

"That's Lily," said Ginny with a warm, maternal smile. "Our baby. Although not such a baby any more. She's eight now. A few more years and she'll be at Hogwarts too."

Something in the atmosphere had changed, though it was hard to say just what it was. It seemed that Ginny had introduced something human into the situation, and Harry had sense enough to maintain his silence.

Zabini handed the pictures back to Ginny. "I'll be glad to have them in my potions classes."

Ginny smiled. "They'll be lucky to have you for a teacher."

There was an awkward silence as Ginny tucked the pictures back into her robes. "I think I'll go see Hagrid," she said. "And let the two of you. . . you know, finish up."

Harry walked her to the door of the classroom. "I don't suppose I could talk you into becoming an Auror?" he whispered as she stepped into the corridor.

"You couldn't afford me!" she whispered back and gave him a quick peck on the cheek before disappearing through the door.

When Harry turned back to look at him, Zabini's face was thunderous. "What's next, Potter? Having her pop out of a cake?"

Harry, who realized this was Zabini's way of covering up what he clearly regarded as weakness, held his temper in check. Nevertheless, he said, "Zabini, I need your cooperation. I hope you'll see that it's in your own best interests to do so. But if you ever again dare to suggest that I would do anything to dishonor my wife, you will regret it very much indeed."

"Tough talk, Potter," Zabini sneered. "I wasn't the one who dragged her into this."

"She's already in it!" Harry snapped. "I think she made that point quite clearly just a few minutes ago. I didn't need to drag her anywhere. And just so you know, she actually thought an appeal to your better nature would be the only push you needed to convince you to do the right thing. She thinks there's something very decent about you. Personally, I think she's been deluded."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just that I think all you care about is your own self-interest. Oh, yes, she told me about that whole business eighteen years ago, but you still don't fool me, Zabini. Don't tell me you didn't enjoy looking like a lothario in front of all those other Slytherin buffoons!"

"How dare you!" said Zabini, outraged.

"I dare a lot of things, Zabini. I always have. So what's it going to be? Is her faith in you justified, or would you rather prove me right?"

Zabini stared at Harry, breathing hard. Finally he said, "How do I know you won't sell me out once I give you what you want?"

"You don't," said Harry. "But I don't see that you have a lot of choice. I can arrest you right now for obstructing justice. Maybe we can even find a cell for Mummy right next to yours. That way you can watch her die."

There was pure hatred in Zabini's face, but Harry knew his point had been made. He had clipped the raven's wings. The only question was whether or not he would caw loudly enough to bring in their quarry.

"Where is he, Zabini?" Harry prompted. "Where's McLaggen?"

Zabini's shoulders seemed to sag. He dropped into a chair as if all the strength had suddenly left him and let his head fall into his hands. "I don't know. I don't know where he is."

"So help me, Zabini. . ."

"It's the truth, Potter! I met with him about a week ago, but I didn't know where he was then and I don't know now."

"How did you manage to meet with him then?"

"Claude told me how to contact him," Zabini said dully. "There's an abandoned shop in Knockturn Alley just down the street from Borgin and Burke's. I left a scrap of parchment in a rusty old cauldron under the stairs. When I went back the next day, there was a different scrap of parchment listing a date, time, and location. When I arrived at the specified location, there was a portkey waiting. It took me to a forest clearing. I think it was someplace in Devon, but I couldn't say for sure."

Harry regarded him. "What did you talk about?"

"The formulas, obviously. He told me he would give me the one I wanted in exchange for. . . for agreeing to work with them."

Harry had suspected this too. They needed an expert to work with these potions and there weren't many wizards with Zabini's skill. "What did you tell him?"

"I told him I needed to think about it."

"And what did he say to that?"

"He told me not to think too long. He said his partner, whoever the hell that is, wouldn't wait forever. They're working on an important deal and needed someone to make large amounts of these potions as quickly as possible."

"Did he say who the 'deal' was with?"

"No," said Zabini. "But Claude mentioned something. It was the reason he wanted out. They're making arrangements to sell the potions to some Muggle terrorist organization."

Harry felt his blood run cold. The temperature in the dungeons seemed to have dropped by at least thirty degrees. "McLaggen told you that?"

"No," said Zabini. "I heard that from Claude, the last time I saw him, in fact. A lot of it was drunken babbling, but I sorted through enough of it to work out what was going on. Apparently they tried to convince him to go along with them. It's only Muggles killing Muggles, they told him. But Claude was scared. The idea terrified him."

It terrified Harry, too. "But. . .they. . .Even . . . even if they left the country, they couldn't . . . the International Code of Secrecy. . . How did they ever imagine they could get away with it?"

"Claude's Firewhiskey-induced tirade explained that too. They think Muggles are so stupid, they'd never realize the magical properties of the potions they were using. All they need to be told is that it's a substance capable of killing without leaving any kind of trace. Apparently there's a huge international market, but Claude didn't want anything to do with it. So he tried to back out, and the rest, as they say, is history. Or rather he became history, and that's just what'll happen to me if they find out I know anything about their plans. I don't think they know Claude told me anything, and I'd like to keep it that way, if it's all the same to you."

"Don't worry," said Harry in a voice hoarse with shock. His mind was spinning with the implications of what he had just learned. "I'm heading back to the Ministry immediately. I'll arrange for your protection straightaway."

"The formulas?" Zabini asked coldly.

"If we find them, you'll receive a copy of the one you need," Harry promised.

"And what about. . . the other?"

"What you've just told me should go a long way toward mitigating any charges. You've been tremendously helpful, Zabini. More helpful than I could have imagined, in fact. I can't promise there will be no consequences, but I'll use every ounce of influence I have to ensure that what you've done here today is taken into account by all those in authority."

Zabini searched his face for signs of posturing or pretense. "I don't know why I should believe you, Potter."

"I don't know why I should believe you either," said Harry. "But I reckon Ginny may have been right about you after all."

Zabini shook Harry's hand. "Try not to get me killed, Potter."

Harry offered him a wan smile. "I'll do my best, Blaise."

Ginny was having tea with Hagrid when Harry arrived. A plate of rock cakes sat on the table, though Ginny obviously had enough sense not to touch them. One of Hagrid's oversized cups was in front of her. She had just taken a drink when Harry burst through the door, causing her to spill most of it down the front of her robes.

Harry!" boomed Hagrid, who managed to look almost exactly the same as he did when Harry was at Hogwarts. There might have been a bit more gray in his hair and beard, and the broad back may have been a little more stooped, but otherwise he was the same wild-looking, too-big-to-be-allowed figure he had always been.

"Good ter see ya, mate, good ter see ya!" said Hagrid, whacking Harry on the back with such enthusiasm that his knees buckled. "Me and Ginny was just havin' a cuppa an' we. . ."

"Sorry, Hagrid, we can't stay," Harry said. "Ginny, we have to go."

"Right now?" said Ginny. "But we were supposed to stay to dinner . . ."

"Hagrid will make our excuses," Harry said, grabbing Ginny's hand and practically dragging her from Hagrid's house. "Please give Professor McGonagall our apologies, won't you, Hagrid? Tell her I'll explain everything later."

"But. . ." said Hagrid, clearly bewildered by the abrupt departure. "Can't yer stay even a mo'? I was just tellin' Ginny here about Grawpy's new lady friend . . ."

"Sorry, Hagrid," Harry called back over his shoulder. "Urgent Ministry business. Terribly urgent. Got to go. Can't stop. I'll explain later, I promise."

"Harry!" said Ginny as Harry rushed her back toward the castle. "What's going on? What happened after I left you and Blaise?"

"I'll explain later," Harry said for what felt like the millionth time as Neville came bounding out of the castle toward them.

"Got your patronus message, Harry," said Neville. "What's up?"

"We need you to open the gates for us again, Neville," Harry said. "We have to get back to London straight away. Something's come up, we won't be able to stay to dinner after all. And listen, Neville, I need for you to deliver an important message to Professor McGonagall. I'll be sending Aurors up here later this afternoon to guard Professor Zabini. I'll explain why later, but in the meantime he is not to leave the castle for any reason, under any circumstances. Understood?"

"Sure, Harry," said Neville. "Whatever you say. We all trust you, you know that."

"Harry," Ginny said as they hurried down the path toward the gates. "You're so pale and . . . Merlin's beard, you're actually shaking! What's happened? You're acting as though all hell's broken loose or something."

"Not yet," Harry replied grimly. "But it may be just about to."

A/N: Yes, I know, another cliffhanger, but I have to do SOMETHING to keep you reading, don't I? Ha! Thanks so much for staying with the story, and please remember that reviews have an almost magical ability to make my fingers fly across the keyboard at an astonishing speed!