CHAPTER 14

The Message and the Messenger

Harry groaned as he rolled out of bed. His whole body felt sore and his head was still pounding from the Firewhiskey. While it was nice to be appreciated by the wizarding world, there were only so many glasses of Firewhiskey he could accept before it stopped being a symbol of appreciation and started turning into a simple attempt at poisoning.

Ginny hadn't been forced to drink nearly as much as he had, but it was still enough. She hadn't left his side all night, and quite a few wizards felt obligated to buy her bottles of ale while giving Harry the much stronger drinks. She mumbled incoherently and pulled the covers up over her head. He decided to let her sleep. In reality, he wished that he could join her, but his throbbing head made it impossible. Perhaps once he got some tea and some toast he would feel better. He could always fall asleep later. It wasn't as if he had any plans to be seen anytime soon. A few hours of constant attention had been enough for several weeks.

Harry slowly worked his way down the stairs, trying to walk as smoothly as he could. Just as he reached the last few steps, Ron appeared in front of him. Harry instinctively froze.

"Oh, good morning, Harry," he greeted him hesitantly. He scratched his chin and looked down at his feet. "I— Hermione told me," he said softly. "She told me about yesterday —about everything before the ceremony."

"Er... She did?" Harry replied, trying not sound as shocked as he was. "I— I mean, it wasn't—" he began stammering.

"I'm sorry, Harry," Ron interrupted. "Hermione was right. I should have found a way out of that match. I guess I wasn't thinking. I only thought about the ceremony and how you wouldn't care about having me follow you around while everyone congratulated you. I didn't even think about all the time before it started. I know you and Hermione don't really have much fun together. I could have at least kept your mind off the ceremony until it started."

"Oh," gasped Harry, "yeah, of course. Wait— I mean, no. It's really alright. I was mostly just annoyed. It wasn't as bad as I made it out to be." Harry forced himself to smile. "I am glad we chose Fred and George's shop, though. Staying in a room at the Leaky Cauldron would have been quite a bit worse."

"Well it couldn't have been worse than the Quidditch match I was at," Ron groaned. "I swear, I've never seen a crowd get so excited over a pair of teams with so little talent. By the end they were cheering for anything that might end the match faster. A couple of the other blokes and I had even considered attacking some of the spectators just to give them an excuse to send everyone home."

"Who ended up winning?" Harry asked casually.

"Albania," Ron answered with a nod. "A few of the spectators spotted the Snitch and shouted for the Seekers." Ron let out a short laugh. "The referee didn't even care. I think he was only annoyed that he didn't spot it sooner. Anyway, the Turkish Seeker tried to get to it, but he had to keep correcting his path. It won't matter," he added. "They'll get clobbered by Germany in their next match."

Harry smiled and nodded in agreement. In truth, he wasn't listening all that closely. He was thinking about everything Ron had said before he started talking about the match. He waved as Ron turned and continued up the stairs. He'd told Harry that he needed to go to the Ministry to report on the match. Harry turned and walked in the opposite direction.

After giving the door a soft shove, he walked into the kitchen and found Hermione crouching down in front of the fireplace. Behind him, the door rattled as it shut, triggering a panicked shriek from Hermione as she turned to stand defensively in front of the fire.

"Oh, it's you," she said coldly. Behind her, grey smoke began filling the fireplace.

"What are you doing?" he asked her. "Did you throw something into the fire?"

Hermione's face became an expressionless mask. "If you don't want to see it, then just walk away, Harry," she replied. Harry walked closer to try and figure out just what she was doing. Hanging out onto the hearth, he saw a single sleeve of rippling, blue satin. Hermione was burning her dress robes.

"They were... ruined," she explained. "I tried to fix them but— I'll never wear them again, so I just figured..."

"You didn't tell Ron," he said. "Why not?"

"Because there's nothing to tell," she answered sharply. "I don't even know what you're talking about, Harry."

"You lied to him."

Hermione's lips tightened. "Oh, and you haven't been doing any of that, have you?" she snapped. "What happed to that guard at the Ministry, Harry? Even the Quibbler says that you didn't touch him, yet he didn't follow his orders. What did you do? How hard did he fight you?"

"I didn't do anything," he growled back at her. "Why don't you believe me?"

"Oh, let me think," Hermione replied mockingly. "Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I can't remember anything that happened yesterday from the moment I walked into the back room until Fred and George found us. All I remember is what we were doing when they stopped us. Part of me is desperate to know what happened before that, but I'd be satisfied if you could just tell me how it happened."

"You think I know? Believe me, if I could, I'd forget it all too. I remember doing everything, but it was like... like it was a dream or some vision. I could see it all, but I couldn't stop it."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" asked Hermione. Before Harry could answer, she turned and grabbed a nearby poker. She curled the rest of the robes on top of the fire, letting them crinkle and be consumed by the flames.

"Listen to me, Harry," she said in a tense whisper, "I was serious. I really don't want to ever talk or think about what happened, but if you can't find some explanation for what happened, I can't spend time around you. I can't risk having... that happen again. You do understand that?" Harry nodded silently.

"We need to figure out what is going on," she whispered. "What happened... that wasn't normal. It's dark magic, Harry. I can believe that you weren't in control of your actions, but you can't tell me that you don't know anything about what happened."

"I don't—"

"Don't lie to me, Harry. Why didn't you tell us about the guard right away?" she asked. A moment later, she answered for him. "You knew something strange happened to him and you didn't want to admit it."

"It wasn't like that," he tried to tell her. "I wasn't trying to hide anything. I just forgot—"

"You forgot?" she replied loud enough for her voice to echo faintly through the kitchen. "How convenient for—" She paused and took a deep breath. "How many other things do you suppose you've forgotten, Harry? What exactly do you remember about the attacks at Hogwarts? The night that Marius Lipton was attacked, you had a dream you've never told us about. You didn't perhaps dream about him being attacked, did you?"

"They were just dreams," he insisted. "I didn't—"

"Did you have another dream?"

Harry turned to find Ginny staring at him from the doorway. Her tousled hair only partially blocked the worried expression on her face. "Was it... was it like the others? Is something happening?"

"No," Harry replied quickly. "I haven't had any more dreams." From the corner of his eye he caught Hermione glaring at him. "Hermione and I were just talking about them. There's nothing to worry about."

"Good," said Ginny. "I don't think I'd be able to do much about it if there was. My head feels like it's about to split open. I think some tea and a Pepperup Potion might be a good idea." She walked across the kitchen but stopped when she saw the fireplace.

"Hermione! Your robes!" she cried. "What are you doing?"

"Getting rid of them," Hermione answered stiffly as she pulled her wand out of her pocket and aimed it at the fire. With a quick swish of her wand, the flames roared higher. "Someone spilled their drink all over them when I helped the two of you get home last night."

"We could have fixed them," Ginny argued as she gave the blackening robes a piteous look. "It couldn't have been that bad."

"There was nothing that could be done," explained Hermione. "They never would have been the same," she added with a sharp glare at Harry.

"Alright," Ginny sighed disappointedly. "It's too bad, though. You looked really good in them."

Hermione turned to stare at the flames. "Yeah... I know." As Ginny walked away, Harry heard her whispering to herself: "Maybe too good."

For the rest of that day and all of the following Sunday, Harry and Hermione did their best to avoid spending any length of time in each other's presence. At first it wasn't even a conscious decision. Harry simply found that anytime the two of them were in the same room he felt uncomfortable. When an opportunity to leave presented itself, he usually took it.

Hermione was doing the same thing. By the end of Saturday, it had progressed far enough that she made up an excuse to eat dinner early before slipping out of the house for the rest of the night. She'd returned the next day, but spent even less time around Harry. Early that evening, Harry and Ginny walked through the kitchen on their way to the parlor and found Hermione making an early meal for herself.

"Are you leaving again tonight?" Ginny asked.

Hermione looked up at her, but turned away when she saw Harry. "Er, yeah," she said. "I've been doing some research at a number of libraries, and it's easier to get things done at night. Less crowded, you know," she explained.

"That makes sense," Ginny commented, "but it doesn't really explain why you've been avoiding Harry and me all weekend. You didn't have any problem spending all of Friday with him, but—" Ginny paused and looked from Harry to Hermione. "Hold on. Did something happen after I left on Friday?" she asked suspiciously.

Hermione froze and threw an accusatory glare at Harry. "No," she said stiffly. Her eyes stared imperiously at Harry. "Nothing happened."

This did nothing to cure Ginny's suspicion. "If you two had a fight, you should just work it out. We're going to have to spend a lot of time around each other. I'll leave for a bit and the two of you can work it—"

"No," Harry blurted out. "No, that's alright. We just— er—"

"It wasn't a fight," Hermione insisted. "We just spent a little too much time around each other. It's nothing to worry about."

This made Ginny a little happier and she seemed glad that she had been around to help the two of them work out some sort of agreement. Of course, it hadn't changed anything at all. Hermione still left early and Harry avoided noticing her return.

When Harry awoke the next day, Hermione had already left. Ginny seemed a little annoyed. Harry watched with bleary eyes while Ginny complained about Hermione disappearing before she'd had a chance to ask her where she was going. As she rummaged through a large trunk looking for a heavier cloak, she told Harry that she was going to Ireland that day, but she had planned to stop off at Hogwarts first. Hermione had agreed to go with her earlier, but that no longer seemed to be the case.

There was little he could do, and to be honest, he wasn't completely comfortable with the idea of Ginny and Hermione spending so much time around each other. He trusted Hermione, even though it made him feel guilty in this case. The worry was Ginny. She was clever and observant, and the thought of her figuring out what had happened was terrifying to him.

He understood Hermione's reaction now. He didn't want to talk about it or tell anyone what had happened. He just wanted to forget it ever happened. Even though he knew that it was important and it might be the key to figuring out what had caused the attacks at Hogwarts, it simply wasn't worth the risk. If Ginny found out, there was no telling what she might do. If her safety was as important at Josef had claimed, then by not telling her this secret, he was working to keep her safe.

At least, that's what he kept telling himself.

He spent all of Monday alone. Ginny was at the Ministry all day and Ron had left to spend the day at the pitch in Germany where he would be working for the next match. Harry didn't even know where Hermione was. He hadn't seen her for almost an entire day. To be honest, it didn't bother him. His only worry was that he didn't know when she would return.

When he heard the door open with a creak, he immediately assumed the worst. He quickly walked through the kitchen on his way to the front door. He passed the stairs, expecting to see Hermione but finding Ginny instead. She was calmly taking off the light cloak she had been wearing to protect her from the chilly autumn wind, but stopped when she saw him.

"Oh," he said abruptly, "it's you."

Ginny smiled and gave him an odd look. "Yes, it is," she answered slowly. "Is that a problem?"

"Oh, no. It's just— Well, I thought you were Hermione."

Ginny's head cocked to one side slightly. "Is that why you were in such a hurry? Why did you want to talk to Hermione?"

Harry tried not to look at her. It would be easier if he didn't have to look into her eyes. "Oh, no reason, really," he answered. "I just haven't seen her around much."

"Neither have I," she said as she tossed her cloak over the banister instead of hanging it in the wardrobe with the others. "She's been acting strangely the past few days. You've noticed, too." She frowned and looked at him. "I think something's wrong with Hermione, Harry."

"I'm sure it's nothing," Harry replied quickly. "She's been having a rough time at her job. Maybe she just needs a bit of a holiday."

Ginny's eyes narrowed in confusion. "I don't think that's it," she said. "She was strung pretty tight earlier this week, but it was nothing like the last few days. She didn't even work at all over the weekend. It's something else," she insisted. "Something happened the day of the ceremony. Whatever it was, it's really affecting her. Do you remember anything out of the ordinary?"

Harry forced himself to stare at the ceiling. After a moment to wrestle with his conscience, he heard himself repeating the answer Hermione had repeatedly told him to use: "No. I don't remember anything."

This didn't seem to please Ginny. "I tried asking her, but she just ignored me. She hasn't said anything to you?" Harry simply shook his head. "I'm worried about her, Harry," Ginny continued. "Whatever happened to her, she's keeping it a secret. It's not healthy."

"Maybe she can't tell us because it's some old Ministry secret?" he suggested, though he knew it was completely false.

Ginny smile and stepped closer to him. "That never stopped you before," she said suggestively.

"I'll see what I can find out," Harry told her, hoping it would satisfy her.

"Thank you," she said softly. "There is something else," she announced. "As I was leaving, Harrington pulled me into his office. He wants to speak to both of us tomorrow morning,"

"Did he say why?" Harry asked.

"No. He only said that it was very important. I know how much you dislike the Ministry, but after everything he's done to help us, I think we owe it to him to at least show up."

Harry still remembered how Mr. Harrington had helped them escape the Ministry after they had recovered Voldemort's wand. Of course, that had only been the most memorable instance. Harry wondered how many others he hadn't even had the time to learn about yet.

"Alright," he greed. "When do we have to be there?"

"Well, you need to be there at ten o' clock," she replied in a relaxed voice. "I'll be leaving before then, but I'll be waiting for you."

Harry Apparated into the Ministry early the next morning. He'd been hoping to make as little of a scene as possible, but he didn't really expect to be successful. As he'd expected, only seconds after he'd arrived, he heard the first whispers as a pair of witches spun around to stare at him in awe. He tried to ignore them, but the whispers multiplied as he began walking toward the guard at the security desk.

Is that really him?

I thought he was taller...

Why is he here? Are we in danger? Why hasn't the Ministry alerted anyone?

When Harry reached the security desk, he took a good look at the wizard sitting behind it. This wasn't a seasoned Auror like the last guard. The new guard was young, though he looked more confident and alert than most of the young employees about the Ministry. He was probably one of the many wizards who were turned away from Auror training.

"Visitor for Ferdinand Harrington," announced Harry as he reached for his wand.

"Good morning, Mr. Potter," the guard greeted him mechanically. "It's an honor to meet you, but I'm afraid your visitor will have to appear in person."

Harry stopped abruptly and stared at the young man. "No, I'm the visitor," he corrected the guard. "I'm here to see Ferdinand Harrington."

"All due respect, sir, but it doesn't really matter who you're here to see."

Harry glared at the guard. "I didn't just decide to pop in for a visit, I was told to come here," he whispered sharply. He couldn't believe that he'd gone through Scrimgeour's little charade and still had to deal with this sort of abuse from the Ministry. "If you won't let me pass, then send one of your memos to Harrington and tell him to come down to me. Or don't—" he snapped, "—and I'll just leave and never return."

"No, sir—" the guard replied quickly. "You don't understand. You don't need to announce yourself or your business to me. You can just walk in."

"What?" Harry exclaimed. "Since when—"

"Just yesterday, it seems," the guard replied. He flipped through a small stack of parchment and efficiently pulled one out from near the top. He stared at the writing for a few seconds, then stabbed at it with this finger. "Here it is: Harry Potter. Says you're allowed standard privileges, and that means you can enter and leave whenever you like."

"I thought only Ministry employees could do that."

"Well, yeah, of course they can," the guard said with a smile, "but there are plenty of others who don't have to check in."

"Like who?" Harry asked, wondering where he might fit in.

"Oh, let's see," the guard said as he sat back. "A good number of foreign officials —just the most common ones, though— a few of the witches and wizards from the Daily Prophet, a small group of wizards from eastern Europe, and, er— the girls from Callista's Confidential Companions—" He sat up a little straighter and looked down at his desk. "—but I can't really say anything more about them." A pair of old witches passed by and as soon as they disappeared through the gate, the wizard leaned forward and spoke quickly in hushed tones.

"I actually can say quite a bit more about them," he hissed, "for a price."

"I'm more interested in the wizards from eastern Europe."

"Oh, of course," the guard said with a frown. "The blokes were saying that you and Miss Weasley used to get on quite well. I don't suppose there's much point in paying for one of Callista's girls when you're close with someone like Ginny. I can tell you that there were more than a few young wizards mourning your return. Not that they wish you were dead, of course," he explained. "Just, well, you know. They were hoping they'd get to have a go—"

"The wizards," Harry growled, not at all pleased with where the young man's ramblings were headed.

"Oh, right, them," he chuckled nervously. "They're just frequent visitors. I think they're from Bulgaria or Russia or some place over there."

"Perhaps Romania?" Harry suggested.

The guard shrugged. "Yeah, that could be it. They all sound the same, you know? Yeah, they started coming in here a year ago, always looking serious and babbling in that incoherent language of theirs. After a while, the Ministry decided to just let them come and go as they please. It was easier than trying to understand them." He smiled at Harry and nodded toward the parchment on his desk. "I'd guess it's about the same with you. Er, wait— Not the babbling, the visiting. They probably guessed you'd be coming here all the time, and honestly, who'd tell Harry Potter he couldn't see the Minister?"

"You'd be surprised," mumbled Harry. "These Romanians, where are they allowed to go? Do they ever go up to the Minister's office?"

"Well, I, er— I'm not supposed to really share that, but... It can't really hurt can it?" he asked as if there was a chance that Harry might disagree. The guard shuffled through another stack of parchment for a moment before pulling out another sheet. "Oh, hold on," he said as his eyes scanned the scribbled writing. "That's strange. They're restricted to the Department of Mysteries. No one else is allowed down there, but they can't even go up to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."

"What about Josef Kantos?" Harry asked. "Is he on that list?"

The guard shook his head seriously. "Oh no, Mr. Kantos is on a separate list entirely." He pulled out another roll of parchment and quickly opened it. "He's right here at the top of this one," the guard said. Harry looked down and saw Josef's name. Directly over it was a line of bold text: No Admittance Without Escort and Confirmed Appointment.

"He was here on Friday," said Harry. "Can you check to see who he said he was here to see?"

This made the guard a little more uneasy, but after a quick check to see that he wasn't being watched, he pulled open a small cabinet and pulled out a narrow-spined book. After leafing through the pages for a moment, he stopped at one particular page.

"Here we are," the guard whispered. "Yeah, he came in Friday night, just before seven o' clock, and he was here to see—" He froze for a second, then leaned closer to the book to take a closer look. When he looked up, he had an uncertain expression on his face. "He was here to see Miss Weasley."

"Who escorted him?"

"She did," he answered weakly. "She's not one of the approved escorts, but there's a note here saying that she claimed some sort of diplomatic privilege."

"Does it say when he left?

"Just before eight o' clock," the guard whispered. "They left together." As soon as he finished talking, he quickly shut the book and slipped it under a stack of parchment.

"Good morning and welcome to the Ministry of Magic," he called out in a loud voice. Over his shoulder, Harry spotted a pair of wizards walking up behind him. "Is there something I can help you with?" the guard asked them.

"We need to speak with someone at the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures," announced one of them, a tall wizard with a severe expression. Standing next to him was a shorter witch with one arm bandaged and in a sling. "We found a pack of grindylows living at the bottom of a well. Something must be done about them. Muggle children play near that well."

"Yes, yes of course," agreed the guard. "You'll just need to sign in and I'll need to see your wands for a moment." As the two of them retrieved their wands, the guard turned and nodded to Harry. "Good day, Mr. Potter. It was nice talking to you."

Harry understood without the guard needing to say it. He'd gotten enough information from him for one day. Harry nodded to the guard and walked off toward the lifts.

"Good morning, Mr. Potter," Carmilla greeted him warmly when he finally arrived at the Department of International Magical Cooperation. "You're earlier than I expected. I'm afraid Ferdinand is busy at the moment. You don't mind waiting, do you? I'm terribly sorry."

"No," Harry replied, though he wasn't being completely honest. "I'll just wait with Ginny, then. Is it alright if I just go back to her office?"

"Oh, no, sorry—" Carmilla responded, but quickly stopped herself. "What I meant is that Ginny isn't here." She gave him an apologetic look. "I sent her out to speak to some wizards who were complaining about their seats at the first round of World Cup matches. You can still wait in her office, though. I'm sure she wouldn't mind."

"Do you know when she'll be back?" he asked, a little confused about her absence.

"No, I don't," Carmilla apologized. "I'll tell Mr. Harrington to find you when he's ready. He'll explain everything, I promise."

Harry shrugged and casually made his way toward Ginny's office. He passed Mr. Harrington's office and heard the faint murmurs of people talking on the other side. As he continued on, he noticed something that made him feel strangely comfortable. He wasn't the only wizard in the offices, and he had passed by a number of them as he made his way through the corridors. A few of them had smiled and nodded at him, but on the whole they weren't reacting with any of the shock or surprise that he'd expected. Instead, they seemed to be treating him as if he was one of them. It felt... comfortable. Part of him wondered if that in itself should make him uncomfortable.

He was happy to reach Ginny's office. It wasn't as easy to return to the rest of the world as he thought it would be. He truly wanted to, but after over a year of hiding and running and sneaking about, it felt strange to simply walk down a corridor without a disguise. He felt exposed and vulnerable, and yet, no one seemed to care.

He sat down in Ginny's chair and looked around her office for something to occupy his time. It hadn't changed much since the last time he was there. There was more parchment scattered about her desk and a few more odd objects she'd brought from the Burrow to make it feel like home, but for the most part it still looked new and empty. Remembering his last visit, he spun around in the chair and looked at the bookshelf behind him. He scanned the spines of the books looking for one book in particular.

"She's got odd taste in literature, don't you think?"

Harry nearly jumped out of his chair as he turned back toward the door. Evelyn Sibley was standing in the doorway and watching him. As he stood up, her expression changed to one of surprise.

"Oh, it's— It's you," she stammered. "I— I thought it was Josef, again, but I suppose that doesn't make much sense. He never really comes here during the day anymore," she explained. Hesitantly, she walked into the office and held out her hand. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Potter."

He reached out and shook her hand. Her skin was soft and her hand felt delicate, but her grip was firm and confident. Unlike so many of the witches he'd met the night of the ceremony, Evelyn wasn't intimidated by him. "You can call me Harry," he told her.

"Thank you, Harry," she said with a smile. "My name is Evelyn. I have an office just down the corridor," she said, pointing back over her shoulder. Of course, he remembered who she was and just where her office was, but he didn't think it was really the sort of thing one should admit to someone the very first time they thought they were meeting you.

He wondered how well he'd been able to impersonate Josef. Would she begin to recognize him if he talked to her? What would be the worst that could happen if she did? He'd recognized her easily, though he was trying not to make it seem so. Her hair was slightly different. Instead of hanging down in a single smooth layer, it was tied back with scarlet and gold ribbons. She seemed a little less pale, though it might have simply been because of the extra light in the room at the moment. Her eyes were still dark, however, and Harry tried not to stare at them too much.

"So what brings you here?" she asked. "I'm guessing Carmilla told you that Ginny had to leave for yet another petty dispute."

"Yeah, I heard," he told her. "I'm not actually here to speak with her, though. I got a message that Mr. Harrington wished to speak with me."

"Oh, really?" she asked. "Well, I'm sure it's nothing bad. He's been working quite a bit with the French Ministry to work out with World Cup business. Maybe he's hoping you'd be able to make an appearance at the next round of matches."

"Maybe," Harry groaned. The idea didn't sound all that appealing to him. While he didn't mind the idea of catching a few matches, he knew it would mean that he'd be forced to spend hours being watched and whispered about.

Evelyn cast a quick glance over her shoulder, then stepped a little closer to Harry. "Can I ask you a question?" she whispered.

"Er… I suppose."

"You've met Josef Kantos, haven't you?" she asked. Harry nodded slowly. "Is that his real name? I mean, I don't really think it is. Do you know how long he's had it or what it might have been before then?"

"I... I guess I don't really know," he answered. "I don't think I really thought about it much. Why do you want to know?"

"Maybe it's nothing," she said with a wave of her hand. "It's just— Well, I ran across something strange and I don't know what to make of it." She checked the door one more time before continuing. "He's not Romanian," she told him. "He's Russian. How does a Russian wizard get to be such a high ranking official in the Romanian Ministry?"

"Well, he was raised in Romania," offered Harry.

"Yes, I suppose you're right," she said with a nod, "but what about all the others? The Romanian Ministry has quite a few wizards from foreign countries, many of whom didn't even grow up in Romania. Josef was the captain of their guard. It's strange enough that they would put a Russian wizard in that position, but I'd never believe they'd replace him with a Greek wizard who's only been in Romania for a little over five years." She looked into Harry's eyes. "Something strange is going on, and I think Josef is at the center of it. Something tells me that the more I learn about him, the more the rest of it will start making sense."

"I doubt it," Harry told her. "Whatever you're looking for, you won't find it by looking at him, and you probably shouldn't even be looking for it in the first place."

Evelyn raised an eyebrow and gave him a smirk. "Oh?" she replied with a laugh. "How parental of you, Harry." She stepped closer to him and put her hand on his shoulder. "I've never been one to blindly follow rules," she whispered. "I've heard rumors that you don't have much respect for them either. How odd that you're standing here and telling me to be careful." She smiled and gave him a curious look. "Some people might think that you were worried about me."

"Maybe I am," he replied. "I've broken my share of rules, but there are some things that even I won't do. Josef likes his privacy. I've only seen him truly angry once, and it happened just after someone asked him about his parents, and—"

"They were killed," she interjected, "probably by dark wizards, but it seems that they themselves were pretty heavily into the dark arts. I'd say it's just as likely that they were killed by dark wizard hunters. Of course, it's impossible to tell. He did an excellent job of destroying all the records and getting rid of witnesses."

"Are you saying that he killed them?"

"He was only six years old," she replied. "I don't think he even had a wand. Still, it's curious, isn't it? No one even remembers what his real name was. I had to show them a picture of him. If his eyes weren't such an uncommon shade of blue, I don't think I'd have ever found anything."

"Maybe it would have been better that way," he commented. He looked around the room, feeling increasingly more uncomfortable. She'd learned more than Josef had ever told anyone. That couldn't be a good thing.

"He was a six year old orphan in Russia," she continued. "Why did a powerful Romanian politician decide to take him in?"

"I don't know," Harry replied, "but I'm sure it has nothing to do with anything that's happening now."

"I don't believe you," she said with a playful smile. "You're just as secretive as he is. If I didn't know better, I'd think you two were friends." When Harry didn't respond, she continued, taking a slightly different approach.

"I've been looking through reports of all the unexplained events across Europe for the last year and one person keeps reappearing: Josef Kantos. I don't know whether danger follows him or whether he brings it with him, but he's here now and Ginevra thinks she can control him. I know she's your friend—"

"—She's more than—" Harry tried to correct her.

"—but you know that she is still naive about the world. This would not be the first time she's been tricked into trusting someone she shouldn't have. Grigore Tarus was not the kind old wizard she thought he was. And of course, there were rumors at Hogwarts about her first year. I believe they said she let herself be charmed by whoever had been attacking the students."

"That was different. That wasn't her fault," Harry argued. "Listen, Ginny only trusts Josef because I do. If Josef is surrounded by danger, it's only because he's so good at hunting it."

"Yes, uncannily good," Evelyn commented. "Don't try and deny it, Harry. There is something mysterious about him. Even if he isn't the cause of any of these attacks, he knows more about them than he's telling anyone —even you. These attacks... they're different. They aren't like anything Voldemort did. They're more... sinister, if that is possible. It's almost as if there is some message behind them."

"I'm afraid I don't know anything about that," he lied.

Evelyn stared at him for a moment. "I think you do," she finally said. "You know exactly what I'm talking about." She looked up at him with a pleading expression, her dark brown eyes wide and glassy. "Something is happening, Harry," she whispered. "It's almost as if I can feel it. At first I thought I was just paranoid, but I'm not, am I? There's a reason behind all of the strange things that have been happening and you're trying to stop it, aren't you?" Her eyes flickered with excitement. "Let me help you."

"There's nothing to do," whispered Harry. "It's practically finished already. The best thing you can do is to forget everything you've learned about Josef Kantos."

"What about Ginevra?" she asked. "Is she going to forget about him, too?"

"She can take care of herself."

"And I can't?" she shot back at him.

"I'm sure you can," he said, trying to placate her. "I simply meant that you're not part of this yet. It will be better for everyone if it stays that way. Ginny doesn't have a choice, but she knows what she's doing."

Evelyn's eyes narrowed as she glared at him. "She's not the witch you think she is, you know," she said in a controlled voice. "She's different. You disappeared and she changed into... something else. How do you know that she's changed back?"

Harry found it hard to answer for a moment. "I trust her," he finally said, though something about what she'd said made him uneasy. How had she changed? "I know the two of you don't get along very well," he said hesitantly, "and she can be stubborn at times. Maybe if you gave her another chance—"

"Oh, I never had any problem with her," Evelyn insisted. "She's the one who doesn't like me. She is intensely jealous. They say that jealousy is often caused by guilt. If she knew I was talking to you, I think she'd nearly explode. I wonder why that is?"

"Oh, I could think of a few explanations," announced another wizard's voice. "I think it would be enough just knowing that you walked into her office without her permission."

Harry turned and found Ferdinand Harrington standing in the doorway with a serious look on his face. "I think it's time you returned to your office, Evelyn. I'll be expecting that report by noon." Evelyn smiled at Harry and nodded politely, before walking past Harrington with a faint scowl on her face. Once she was out of sight, Harrington motioned for Harry to follow him.

"Follow me, Mr. Potter," he said, motioning for Harry to follow. "There is something we need to discuss."

Harry followed silently as they walked back through the corridor all the way back to Harrington's office. When they arrived, he found a slender witch with long dark hair sitting in one of the comfortable looking chairs inside the office.

"Good morning, Mr. Potter," she greeted him warmly. "It's nice to finally meet you. I'm afraid I couldn't make it to your grand entrance. Ferdinand told me that it was completely excessive and embarrassing. Scrimgeour must have been so proud."

Harry reached out a hand to shake the woman's hand. He had already decided that he liked her. "You're Cordelia Reading?" he asked. She nodded silently. "Ginny's told me quite a bit about you," he said. "She tells me that you're honest. I was hoping you would tell me why I'm here."

Harry heard the door to the office close behind him. "I see," Harrington said with a snort. "You're asking her because she's the honest one? I suppose she is. However, I hardly think you are in a position to judge honesty." He walked behind his desk and motioned to a chair. "Please, sit down, Harry."

Reluctantly, Harry did as he was told. As he looked from Harrington to Mrs. Reading, he got the feeling that he'd walked into a situation that they had been planning for some time. It made him uneasy.

"Relax, Harry," Mrs. Reading whispered. "There's nothing to worry about." She froze suddenly and leaned a little closer. "Er, you don't mind if I call you Harry, do you?" He shook his head dismissively.

"I must apologize for the hour and the deception," Harrington began. "I was put in a difficult position and in this instance I admit that I was forced to use less honorable tactics. You see, I needed to speak with you, but I felt the chances of you agreeing to meet with me alone were lower than I required. I knew you would come if you thought you Ginny would be here. Unfortunately, that was unacceptable."

"Why?" Harry asked. "Where is she? What is this about?"

Harrington frowned. "Let us take that one question at a time." He leaned back in his chair and began toying with a quill. "You and Ginny are very close. You spent a year apart and now that you've returned, she has already risked her life for you several times. Her care for you is obvious." He put down the quill and looked into Harry's eyes. "We all know that Ginny has a tendency to let her emotions control her actions. I'm not saying that is always a bad trait, but we would be fools to ignore it. I didn't want her here because I need you to make a decision based on reason and your own desires without being swayed by her emotions."

He stood up and began pacing behind his desk. "As for the purpose of this meeting, that is much simpler." He put his hands into his pockets and looked directly at Harry.

"I want to offer you a job," he announced plainly.

"A job?" Harry replied with a slight laugh. "I've been running from the Brotherhood for a year, spending half that time either hiding or running from the Ministry. Why would I want to work for them? Perhaps you haven't heard: my parents left me quite a bit of gold."

"I know about your gold, Harry," Harrington replied. "I know you have more than enough to last your lifetime, but there is more to live for than gold, isn't there?" As Harry looked at him, he noticed a brief look of pity in his eyes. "You've been running for a year. You spent months at a time, jumping from one city to the next, never staying in one place for longer than a week or so. How have the past few weeks been, Harry? How many times have you read the books in your library? Have you started redecorating yet? How long do you think that will occupy your time?"

Harry said nothing. He knew that Harrington could tell he was close to the truth.

"You don't need a job for the gold. You need a job to end the boredom and I'm not the only one who knows it. There isn't a department in the Ministry that hasn't spent every second between the moment you appeared on that stage and now working out a plan to convince you to work for them."

Harry leaned back in his chair. "If I'm so popular, tell me why I should work for you."

Harrington smiled. "Because you don't want to work for them. More than half of them only want you so they can show you off like some trophy."

"—Like Scrimgeour—" Harry interjected.

Harrington nodded. "Precisely. I know you don't want that, and to be honest, you should feel insulted that they would even try. Others, like the Department of Magical Games and Sports, would have a real use for you. They would put you to work immediately, but that's not what you want either. You're not the sort to sit behind a desk."

He stepped around his desk and pulled his wand from his pocket. "You're a wizard of action," he said as he flicked his wand, making a cup of steaming coffee burst into existence in front of Mrs. Reading. "At Hogwarts, you wanted to be an Auror, and I'm sure they would take you in an instant. But you already know what that would mean. They are split already between those loyal to the Minister and those loyal to Reynard. You would have to pick. Both have positions waiting for you. They've been waiting for you to show up. It was not easy to get you here without them learning that you'd arrived."

"You did that?" Harry asked in shock. "The guard said that important wizards—"

"The guards just read their lists," Harrington interrupted. A sly smile stretched across his face. "You and your friends in Romania are not the only clever ones, Harry. If you had been put on the Special Exceptions list, it would require the Minister's approval. I'm sure he was considering granting it to you himself. I can only guess at the lengths he's prepared to go to get you to work with him."

"Why shouldn't I?" Harry asked, though he didn't think he was actually serious.

"There are many reasons, but I think one will be enough," Harrington replied. "If you work for me, you will be able to spend more time around Miss Weasley."

"So you want me to work with Ginny?" Harry asked. The idea did sound appealing.

"No, no," Harrington said, practically laughing. "Not only would it completely undermine the work she's already done, but I'm afraid that recent events have sufficiently proven that your skills as a diplomat are less than adequate for that sort of job."

"So what exactly am I going to be doing?" Harry asked with obvious suspicion.

Harrington and Mrs. Reading exchanged glances. He remained quiet and let her speak. "Ferdinand is in need of someone to make certain deliveries and carry the occasional message."

Harry glared at her. "He wants me to be an owl?" he growled. "How is that less insulting than being a trophy?"

Mrs. Reading frowned at him. "If it was nothing more than delivering potion ingredients and schedules, then you might be right. We've got something different in mind."

Harry regarded her with cautious curiosity as she relaxed in her chair. "What exactly would that be?" he asked.

She smiled. "Tell me, Harry: In all the months you were hiding, why didn't you ever send Ginny an owl to tell her you were still alive?"

"Owls can be intercepted," he answered quickly, "and they can be tracked."

"Precisely," she agreed. "Surely it doesn't take much thought to see the value in being able to deliver messages without risk of having them read or tracked by others. It seems you're particularly talented at both of those. We can't trust Aurors, and the only other couriers work for Scrimgeour. We could really use a wizard like you, and you could use something to break up the monotony of your life."

Harry turned from Mrs. Reading to look at Harrington. He was watching with a bemused expression. "There's more to it than that," Harry said. "If you really needed a courier you would already have one."

"You're right," agreed Harrington. "I'm going to be completely honest with you, Harry. I think there is something wrong with the world. It's damaged in a way that I can't quite understand. This business with Reynard and Scrimgeour is just a small part of it. I don't think anyone really knows what's happening, but I have to believe that you play some role in it. If I have a choice, I want you close to me so that when you figure out what it is, I'm one of the first to know." He paused, and Harry could see genuine concern in his eyes.

"Reynard and the Minister aren't the type of wizards to lose sleep over things they have to do to get what they want," he continued, "and they want you just as much as I do. They won't hesitate to threaten your friends to get it. All I'm asking for is a little information —information I would hope Ginny would give me anyway. You're going to end up working for the Ministry whether you want to or not. This may be your last chance. You still have a choice. If you walk away, I don't know how much we'll be able to do to help you."

"I don't like being threatened," Harry growled.

"It isn't a threat. It is only the truth. Please, Harry," he whispered. "You don't want to work for them. I'm trying to help you."

Harry took a moment to think. He had no reason to think that Harrington was lying. Everything he said made sense. It was surprising that it hadn't started the day before. Perhaps Grimmauld Place was safer than he thought. He didn't want to work for Harrington. He didn't want to work for anyone, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized that simply wasn't possible. If he had to work for someone, he at least wanted to be able to trust them.

Harry let out a sigh. "Are there forms I need to sign?"

"Just this," Mrs. Reading replied as she unrolled a piece of parchment on the desk in front of him. Harry quickly read through it and picked up a nearby quill.

"That's all?" he asked as he signed his name. "I figured there would be loads of different things that needed to be done."

"There are," Harrington replied with a smile. "We submitted them last night."

The guard wizard just outside the gate nodded to Harry as he passed by. Instead of simply turning back to the stacks of parchment on his desk, the guard held Harry's gaze a little longer. Just before he turned away, his eyes flicked toward the fountain, then immediately back to Harry. Harry faltered for a moment, then nodded in acknowledgment. It was obvious that he was meant to look at the fountain, but the relative clumsiness of the message made him worry about just what he might find.

Harry continued walking, purposefully keeping his eyes off the fountain. Instead, he watched the fireplaces off to the left of him. A dozen or so wizards were queued up at a single fireplace. They were all wearing dark red cloaks which bore a logo on their backs consisting of a large trophy standing in front of three circles. Harry guessed they were more of the wizards like Ron, picked to protect the World Cup matches.

When he was only a few seconds away from the fountain, Harry tore his eyes from the group and quickly scanned the area in front of him. There was nothing out of the ordinary. He slowed his pace and looked again, knowing that the whole idea of waiting was to make his search appear as casual as possible. Still, he found nothing. Had the guard made a mistake? Or had he missed something? He forced himself to continue walking, allowing him a little more time to hunt for whatever the guard had been trying to point out to him.

"Looking for something?" asked a voice from directly behind Harry.

He recognized the voice immediately. The guard's behavior made perfect sense now. "Nothing in particular," Harry answered as he slowed his pace and turned to face the fountain.

"Oh yes, of course," Josef replied, "I should have guessed. Ministry employees are unsurpassed in their ability to hunt for something while remaining completely oblivious to their surroundings." He tossed a small gold coin into the fountain and added with a chuckle: "I always assumed it required training to be that ignorant. I never expected they'd be able to do it on their first day. It's a little sad, really. I thought it would take longer to make you forget the month I spent training you."

"Oh, right, it was all my fault," Harry said sarcastically. "I'm sure it had nothing to do with the way the guard told me. If he'd held up a sign at least it would have created enough of a diversion to give me a chance. You were probably gone before he'd even finished warning me."

"Actually, I waited until you were preoccupied with those wizards your Minister is wasting gold on," Josef explained. "I tried to give you a chance."

"And you would have scolded me if I had found you before then," Harry replied bitterly. "Convince yourself of whatever you like, but remember that I stayed one step ahead of you for ten months."

Josef didn't respond immediately. They both knew Harry was right. Josef had just been taking the opportunity to prove that was just as accomplished as Harry was.

"So, you've got yourself a job," Josef commented after a few more seconds. "What is it? Security for the Minister? Quidditch official?" He paused and turned to stare at Harry. "You're not working for Reynard, are you?" There was some real concern in his voice.

"No, I'm working for Ferdinand Harrington," Harry answered. "I'm a—" He stopped short, wishing there was some better way of describing it. "I'm a courier for Harrington." Harry already knew how Josef would respond.

"A courier?" he laughed. "And I was just about to congratulate you on finding an excellent way out of a tight position. You do amaze me, Harry," he said while shaking his head. "Out of only a handful of jobs here that wouldn't put you and your friends in more danger, you managed to find the very worst one. Was that some plan of yours or are your negotiation skills that horrible?"

Harry released an annoyed sigh. "I wasn't interested in working for the Ministry," he told Josef. "Harrington knows that. He offered me a job that would let me do what I like without the Ministry interfering with my life."

"Ah, how idealistic of you," Josef replied. "You know, there are times when I wish the Brotherhood didn't interfere with my life, but I recognize that the occasional intrusion is more than worth the ability I gain to make the world a better place."

"Oh, really? So, how exactly did the world benefit by having a dozen dark wizards escape from a prison in Italy?"

"Only eight of them made it," Josef corrected him. "Two were killed by the guards and the other two... Well, eight was enough to convince Grigore to let me stop that cult in Sweden. How many lives did that save? Two hundred? Three hundred?"

"Yes, I'm sure those three witches who were killed in Rome two weeks later would be very impressed," sneered Harry.

"And you think you're going to do so much more?" retorted Josef. "I couldn't have done any of it alone, and neither can you. You're not going to get many followers as a courier."

"I don't want followers," Harry said. He felt his annoyance growing and he could see Josef getting more frustrated with him, though he didn't really care. "I don't want power or money or awards. I just want to be left alone."

"Open your eyes, Harry," Josef replied sharply. "A war is being fought in the shadows. You may choose to ignore it, but it will not ignore you."

Harry lowered his voice as a group of wizards turned to look at them. "I'm not ignoring it, but I'm not going to sell myself to one corrupt politician so I can try and stop another."

"Is that what you think this is?" Josef asked incredulously. "Just some petty power struggle by a pair of insecure wizards? I don't know about Rufus Scrimgeour, but Auguste Reynard is much more complex than that."

"Not complex enough," replied Harry. "It won't be long until we can prove that he was responsible for attacking Marius Lipton and Miraphora Franklin."

Josef raised an eyebrow. "Really? How do you plan on connecting him with the Franklin girl?"

"Marius attacked her, though he might not have been in control of himself," Harry began explaining. "We found a scar on his chest that was similar to the one on Miraphora's forehead. We think he was attacked first. We don't really know exactly how or why, but we know that he's the key."

Josef frowned and rubbed his forehead. "Marius Lipton is dead, Harry."

"What?" Harry exclaimed. "How?

"He died four days ago," Josef continued. "I went to the hospital to see him, and the healers there told me about it. No one was notified. It took less than an hour for wizards from the Department of Mysteries to take his body."

"Four days, that would mean—" He cut himself short. It meant that Marius died on Friday. He forced himself to swallow. "What time did he die?" he asked in a calm voice.

"The Unspeakables took his body away just before seven o' clock," Josef replied. "I called Ginny to the Ministry hoping we might be able to catch some news, but there was nothing. Why do you ask? Did you notice anything?"

"No," Harry replied quickly. "Nothing." He tried to act casual, but he knew he was failing. Let Josef think whatever he wanted. "Is that what you came to tell me? That Marcus's son is dead?"

"No," he answered heavily. "I went to St. Mungo's to see Marius to see if his condition had changed. I got some troubling news this morning."

Harry felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. "It's about Miraphora Franklin, isn't it? Is she dead?"

"No. I'm afraid it's worse than that," Josef replied. "Miraphora Franklin woke up this morning." He paused to give Harry some time to understand what he'd just said. "I believe when you return home, you'll find an owl waiting to deliver that message to you," he continued. "What it won't tell you is that she used her first conscious breath to call your name."

Author's Notes:

Sorry for the delay. There was Christmas, and then my Beta had finals and vacation and then an illness... it was a mess. However, I'm posting this, and 15 and 16 should be coming soon (By next Wednesday), with 17 close on its heels and 18 nearly finished. Enjoy.

See. The story wasn't abandoned. I swear.