Day three in to their tour of the worst areas of Dubrovnik, and George was getting frustrated, and to the end of his rope. Privately he was able to admit that Charlie may have had a point about his propensity to hex any wizard that crossed his path at the moment.

He followed, as unobtrusively as possible, 'Alexei' as he investigated various marketplaces, pubs...even on one occasion a brothel (leaving George thankful for the existence of disinfecting spells) . Everyone knew Ivan Presliezevic. They dismissed him, scorned him, and mocked him, but they knew him. And they had seen him, yesterday, a week ago, last month, by himself, in a crowd, with truffles, without truffles, drinking beer, drinking wine, eating boar, riding a donkey, riding a horse, crawling on all fours...you name it. George was becoming convinced that the discordant information was all part of a conspiracy to keep them from ever finding his brother.

Charlie was in full Angry Russian mode. "I vont to buy many truffles. This Ivan has the best, so all say, and yet none of you here can tell me where I can vind him? This country vill alvays be poor and backward, if so you conduct business!" He slammed his fist down on a bar. George shrunk back against the wall, holding the cloak firmly in place.

Sadly, the clientele of the degenerate pub they were ensconced in now seemed to not even notice his outburst, and Charlie turned to go out, disgust showing firmly on his strangely handsome face.

But as they walked outside, a beggar by the door tugged on Charlie's cape. "You look Ivan?"

Charlie looked down at a decrepit man, apparently a squib, huddled by the garbage. "I seek Ivan who hunts the truffles."

"I take. You give food, yes?" The squib wheezed.

Charlie hesitated a moment; George could tell he was contemplating that it might be a trap. Quietly he came behind his brother and poked him with his wand, not as a threat, but as a reminder that Charlie had backup. Instantly, 'Alexei''s head turned thoughtfully. "I vill give you much food, my friend...if you are being honest vid me. And here, as a promise..." He held out a golden coin. "You will have ten more if to Ivan I go."

Without further words, the beggar grasped the coin and scurried away, beckoning Charlie to follow. George kept his brother in eyeshot at all times.

Dubrovnic consisted of the old, historical city; expensive and picturesque, as well as a new city, which had all the typical charm of 1960's cinderblock construction. But the outskirts of the new city turned in to twisted streets, what had once been countryside to the old city and was now absorbed into the new, as an amalgam of poverty laced slums that were the unfortunate lot of almost any metropolitan area. Into this section they found themselves wandering, winding around alleys that barely held room for a modern moped.

At the end of one decrepit lane was a sad looking building, little more than a shack. The little squib knocked.

"Ivan. Is man to see you, for truffles." The squib said.

"Ivan is sick." A weary, strange voice said. "But Ivan will sell what he has, though it is not much."

At the sound of the voice George felt his knees buckle. Though it was a strange voice, he felt down to the core of his being that his brother had just been found. Judging from the sudden pallor on Charlie's face, he must have thought the same.

The little squib got all excited as the door opened. Indeed, Ivan looked just as expected, though decidedly ill. George had to refrain from turning around and thumping him upside the head.

"You see, you see, I am not useless squib. I help gentleman find his truffles. I do good, yes?"

"Yes, my friend. You do good. And do not let others call you useless. Those who do are not good wizards." Charlie couldn't help letting some of his real self come through. He carefully counted out ten coins, as promised, and added two more for good measure. "These, are to make sure you tell none others of what I have done here. Many wish to by truffles, and I want to make sure they do not find my prize."

"I have not seen master before in my life. I have just taken coin and led you astray. That is what I tell." The squib bowed low. "You is good master." He added, before scurrying away joyfully with his bounty.

Quickly George and Charlie pressed inside, closing the door. "Blimey, Percy, I know you look ill, but what the heck are you THINKING?" Charlie asked, the words tripping over Alexei's lips.

Ivan cringed backwards. "Vot? Vot is this Percy?"

George slipped off the cloak, revealing himself. "It's okay, Perce..." He soothed, fearing that the Alexei persona had scared his brother. "It's us...that's Charlie in there, hard as it is to believe he could ever be that good looking."

Rather than settle Ivan down, the sudden appearance of a man where there had been none sent him scurrying down to his old mattress, pressing himself against the wall. "Ivan is good squib, masters...does no harm. Please...Ivan still hurts from injuries...for angering Mister Malfoy...please do not hurt Ivan."

George and Charlie came up short at Malfoy's name. More gently, Charlie got down on one knee and tried to sooth the man before him as he might a Dragon pup. "I vill not hurt you. You have my vord on that. I am not a wizard like Malfoy. In vact, I vill help you, iv you are hurt."

Ivan clutched a bottle to him. "Ivan has medicine. Ivan takes medicine each hour. It does not zeem to help pain from broken ribs, though."

"Malfoy broke your ribs?" George forced himself to keep calm, though he was seriously desiring to throttle somebody.

"No, no...Ivan broke own ribs, while writhing to get avay from Cruciatus curse. That vos Molfoy." He sank back against the bed.

Charlie looked up at George, worried. "How do we know this isn't the real Ivan?"

"According to what Harry was able to find out, the real Ivan died two years ago in a mountain landslide. The ministry has been using his persona ever since; they had brewed a very large batch of polyjuice while he was cooperating with them." George proceeded to kneel down on the other side of Ivan, and took his bottle of 'medicine'. He sniffed. "And this is, in fact, polyjuice."

"Right. So why doesn't he..." Charlie frowned hard. "Ivan...do you know the name Percy Weasley?"

The squib shook his head. "Ivan knows nothing."

"Ivan...do you remember what you were doing two weeks ago?" Charlie knew Percy had been home at that period.

"Ivan remembers nothing."

"Why?" George leaned in, handing Percy a vial of pain reliever he had brought along. "Why does Ivan remember nothing?"

"Ivan doesn't know. He remembers four days ago..." A frown graced his features. "Four days ago Malfoy was angry, angry, angry, and there was a flash of light and Ivan falls down. Then Ivan wakes up and Malfoy is still angry and uses Cruciatus, and Ivan's body hurts, tries to escape. Oh, Malfoy, he curses for what seems like hours, and Ivan begs that other squib, Sergei, who you just saw, and that squib brings Ivan home. Ivan tries to recover now."

"Do you remember anything before four days ago?" Charlie asked, insistently. "Even hunting truffles?"

"Ivan knows he hunts truffles. He knows all the best spots. But is funny, since Malfoy got angry, Ivan doesn't remember other things. Ivan knows he lives here, but does not remember vot he does here. Ivan knows parents is dead, but cannot picture. Ivan knows he is squib, but does not know iv he ever tried magic. Ivan knows he must take medicine, but cannot remember why." The wearied wrinkles on the man's face eased. "You is good wizards, help Ivan heal. Ivan feel better."

"It's definitely Percy." George said, under his breath. "If he were a squib the potion wouldn't have worked."

"I think he's been obliviated." Charlie watched as Ivan seemed to doze. "That pretty much would explain his behavior. Thankfully he at least at some level knew it was important to take the potion."

"Blimey, Charlie...what does obliviation under polyjuice do? Is it Ivan who's been obliviated, or Percy?" George fretted. "If he stops taking the potion, will we get Percy back?"

"Neither of us are equipped to handle this one." Charlie pointed out. "We need to get Ivan here back to England, and let Mum, Fleur and Michelle get a look at him."

Ivan's eyes fluttered open. "Ivan cannot leave. The bad wizard vot watches house follows."

"What?" George jumped up and looked out the grimy window. In the shadows, he spotted a wizard, dressed all in black, eyeing the house. "Ivan, when did this Wizard get there."

"He is friend of Malfoy and man called Diggory..."

Blast that bloated bastard!

"...Though I do not know how I know this. Has been there since Malfoy got angry."

George scowled, and Charlie came up next to him.

"This just got tricky." Charlie pointed out.

"I realize." George leaned against the window. "We can get him out of here easy enough, but they'll know something is afoot within a day or so. We have to get him home, but I don't want to blow up whatever Percy was working on." Especially if it involved CJ.

Charlie looked at him. "I don't get how your brain is working, little brother. HOW are we getting him out easy enough?"

"They know you walked in here to buy truffles. You will walk out with a bag of truffles. And Ivan here will follow you out in the invisibility cloak."

"But...wait..." A frown came over Charlie as he followed George's logic. "But that will leave you here, George!"

"A technicality." George brushed it aside.

Charlie grabbed him and spun him around. "You are NOT a technicality, George!" He said harshly. "Don't let me hear you say that again, EVER!"

With wide eyes, George managed a smile. "Right. What I meant was that, my getting out of here unseen is a technicality, Charlie. I know you weren't at school with me except your last year, but believe it or not I'm pretty adept at sneaking around places."

"Oh." Charlie gave a wry chuckle. "I forget, I suppose. But you're right. Even if we get Percy home, it will only take a while before they realize he's gone."

"Exactly." George gave Charlie a wicked grin. "Alexei, my friend...we need a plan!"

WWWWWWW

From the Diary of CJ Diggory:

Fact: I am doomed.

Fact: I cannot escape the curse that binds me.

Fact: I will not hurt George Weasley or his family.

Fact: If I do not do as instructed, I will die a terrible death.

Fact: I can't tell anybody any of this.

Well, that pretty much sums up my life in a nutshell. Any questions?

I spent a good chunk of time once I first realized all of the above just absorbing the cold reality. I actually went and sat on Alf's dad's Grave for a bit. It seemed appropriate that I should start getting to know him now, as I will be meeting him soon. I wonder if he is as nice as George?

Alf found me there. I told him I was worried about George, and Fred's grave seemed like a good way to find some peace for the moment. He took it at face value; after all, he knows that sometimes I get overwhelmed with the sheer volume of family at The Burrow. And worrying about George makes sense enough, and it still does...it's been three days and we haven't heard a thing. I think Gramps is going to climb a wall soon if we don't find out something.

Anyway, after letting myself absorb the shock of my fate for that day, I have called on reserves of Slytherin cunning I didn't know I had. I have been acting entirely appropriately...not quite as outgoing as the rest of the family, as I never have been, but still supportive and helpful..

And at some point, I came to a place of peace. It isn't an act anymore.

Look, I am going to die. I don't want to die how I heard Gramps describe, of course; that scared the hell out of me. But neither will I destroy Wheezes. I've thought my Dad's game plan over, and it's pretty simple...destroying the store will prevent George from meeting that contract, and he'll have invested a lot of money in those fireworks. Pretty smooth, in fact; bankrupt George AND cause a war. So of course I will not do that.

Suicide it is. I was all set to crawl off somewhere last night, and take care of it...I snuck out and went to Fred's grave again...but a feeling came over me. It was powerful, right enough. And everything in it told me to wait. I have, roughly, nine months until my birthday. That is my gift. Nine months to live, and to enjoy my life. And I am going to. I've earned that.

When the time comes, I will find a way to make it as painless as possible. Miss Shell, I know, keeps a good supply of pretty potent meds under lock and key. Alf or I could get in to them if needed; she has no reason to think we would have miscreant purposes in their use. Once they realize why I did it...and I will leave this diary behind as a record...I have no doubt they will forgive me. They will miss me, and I feel badly about that. But they will understand.

I will live this year to the fullest. And I will enjoy it. And then I will move on to the next side.

It is amazing how much better I feel now that there is no more fight.

I just hope I stay this strong.

WWWWWWW

Michelle looked over to where Alf was sitting, holding Freddo on his lap and reading to him from his favorite book, Green Eggs and Ham. Freddo interrupted Alf, lifting his sleepy head from his brother's shoulder. "Af? Where Da?"

"Da went to find Uncle Percy. He'll be back soon." Alf soothed.

Before the story could resume, Freddo asked one more question. "Day?"

"Probably not today. But soon."

Freddo frowned a bit, and Michelle worried he would start fretting; Alf was terrific but he must be near the end of his own tether worried about George; it would be easy to let that frustration show and it would scare Freddo if it did.

But she worried needlessly. Alf continued to read Freddo asleep, finally closing the book as Freddo nodded off, and only then did he give a great sigh, and rub at his own eyes.

"I've got him." Michelle came up to the two of them, lifting Freddo from Alf's lap. She stopped to squeeze his shoulder, and gave him the best smile she could manage. It wasn't very good, truth be told. But Alf understood that as well, and replied with the best smile he could manage, one that was equally wan.

CJ popped in to the room then, giving them a nod. What a rock he had been these past days! Michelle noticed. That first day after George left, she'd worried about him, he'd seemed to withdraw completely. Alf had explained that sometimes CJ felt a little smothered at The Burrow, so perhaps that was not entirely unexpected.

Somewhere along the way, though, he'd adjusted to the chaos, and become a life line for both her and Alf. He always seemed to know when one of them was close to breaking, when they needed a hand or a moment alone, or even just a calming presence. Amazing, really. What a fine young man he was. And not for the first time, Michelle wondered at how stupid Amos Diggory must be.

"I'll take him." CJ smoothly eased Freddo in to his own arms. "You lot might want to go for a walk. Gram's pretty fretful and she and Aunt Ginny are going at it like crazy people in the kitchen.

"Good point…Alf, let's go hunt for tomatoes, eh?" She nudged him, and he slid off of the sofa, laying the book aside.

They walked for a bit out towards Molly's tangled gardens. Like so much at The Burrow, the plants seemed to thrive on controlled chaos. It never looked like it made much sense, but somehow it came together right enough in the end. She looked down at the tomato plants, and she and Alf picked a couple of fairly ripe ones.

"Dad's are better than these." Alf said, with a grimace. "And they're probably rotting on the vine back in Godric's Hollow right now."

"No doubt. He'll go nuts when he gets home; it's going to ruin a season of sauce for him if he misses the full harvest." She paused, and she met Alf's eye from across a row of plants. Alf's gaze was worried for a moment, and she had no words to sooth him. He wasn't a child. He understood everything as well as she did. Worse for him, really; she was at least capable of doing something legally; he must feel completely helpless.

She reached over to him and squeezed his shoulder. "He wouldn't miss his entire tomato harvest." She said firmly. "He won't miss your return to Hogwarts. And he still has to take you boys shopping. He'll be back."

With a shock, she watched as Alf's gaze traveled to the house, and then watched his face crumple. He dropped several tomatoes and hugged his arms across his chest defensively while he fought for composure. Michelle dropped her own collection, and rushed over to him, draping her own arms around his shoulders…heavens, how much had he grown this summer?

Alf fought for his voice. "Nobody. Should have to grow up without knowing their father."

She understood, then. And though she could no longer rest her chin on his head, she leaned in against him. "Nobody will." She vowed.

They both knew it was entirely beyond their control. But it felt better to pretend otherwise.

WWWWWWW

"This is insane, George." Charlie muttered. He ran his fingers through his blond hair, and got frustrated at the short cut that had replaced his normally longer red tresses.

"If you haven't realized before now that I am occasionally on the crazy side then you weren't paying much attention growing up." George pointed out.

Ivan had woken up and was looking from George to Charlie, frowning. "You argue like brothers. But this cannot be. You are not even from same country!" He watched what George was doing. "Vy ugly one running string around Ivan house?"

Charlie gave out a great guffaw of laughter and George hit him on the head, with a glare. "His head's addled, don't make fun of him." He looked over to Ivan. "I am going to make a pretty light show for the bad wizard across the street. But not until after you do what we told you, remember?"

"Ivan remember. I get under special cloak and follow Alexei with truffles. Ivan stay quiet." He nodded briskly.

Charlie was beside George next. "I still don't like this. Do I need to tell you again that I am not going back to England without you?"

"Don't be daft. We have a safe house. We can floo from there." The laws of international apparition prevented George from leaving directly from Ivan's house. "Besides, I need to be here well after you leave to set the show off."

"And HOW…" Charlie muttered. "Are you going to get out after you blow this place up?"

"I am a WIZARD." George said, starting to get exasperated. "I have laid a long enough fuse. I will crawl out that back window there and wind back to our rendezvous point. I will not go anywhere near the pub where Ivan was found. Why are you having such a hard time dealing with this?" George threw his arms up.

Charlie suddenly clasped George into a quick hug, smacking his back hard. "I wish you'd taken the polyjuice. Then I'd be the one staying behind." He muttered.

"Well, I didn't." George calmed down, pushing Charlie off of himself with a fond if frustrated grin. "I will be at the meeting house by midnight, and we will get the hell out of here, letting these fools think that Ivan managed to blow himself up by accident. No problem."

Funny, the more George said that, the more Charlie worried. But they had to do this; they weren't going to cure Percy from here. "Right. Cloak on, Ivan." He kept his eyes on George as Percy obeyed willingly, and he picked up a bag of truffles from Ivan's root cellar. "By midnight, George." He repeated.

Then Charlie strode with great purpose out the front door, the invisible Ivan following him meekly, and they walked on without the guard wizard doing more than raising his head for a second.

WWWWWWW

George figured five hours would do it. He wanted to make sure that his little pyrotechnic show was far enough removed from "Alexei's" departure that the Guard who was going to witness the explosion didn't connect the two; and even if he did, it would be far too late to try and follow Charlie by then.

He paced, poked around the tiny shack, decided he'd seen all he needed to within fifteen minutes, and finally sat down with a huff, and took out a notebook to start diagramming some tentative fireworks models. Hell, would time never pass?

It did eventually, of course. Finally, looking at his watch and seeing the agreed on time, he rose and looked again. The same wizard was across the street, looking utterly bored. George crossed to the back window and slid it open. It led to a filthy and foul little alleyway that dead-ended to the left just a house or so down; to the right it extended about two hundred feet before turning into the main street (if you could call it that). That would then put George in view of the guard. He was counting on two things: first, he would have no idea which house George had come from, and second, that the blast that should be happening right about that point would be enough of a distraction for George to slink away.

Pausing for a moment, he took out the collection of coins he had on a chain that acted as conduits between him, Michelle, Alf and CJ. They wouldn't work from over here, of course. But it still felt good to hold them in his hands for a second. He wanted to be home, to hold his wife and embrace his kids. And by midnight tonight, he would be.

He hopped out the window, landing with Weasley-twin stealth, and turned and tapped his wand against the end of the fuse. "Conflagro!" He whispered.

There was a spark, and then a sizzle as the little blue flame worked its way down the twine.

He ran lightly down the passage, mentally counting to twenty. He had just arrived at the corner when he hit nineteen. Next it should…

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

George grinned. Perfect timing that was! And clever demolition; he was pretty sure that was rigged to collapse the shack inward on itself without damaging adjacent buildings. He glanced back; a surge of sooty smoke was headed his way, and he darted in to the main street.

A few squibs had come out of their houses and were running forward to the disaster; George spotted the guard coming forward with his eyes on the gaping hole where Ivan's house used to be. Quickly he turned in the other direction, as quickly as he could without looking suspect, and he darted through alleyways for a good ten minutes.

He had a strong sense of direction, and it didn't take long for him to find the main street out of the slums that their guide had brought them on. Strolling now, he put his hands in his pockets, and walked at a leisurely pace. No reason to rouse attention. He remembered one wedding at Aunt Muriel's…he and Fred had, in the midst of a busy dance, planted a few dung bombs on a timed fuse by the band. He and Fred had dashed around the house, and then emerged with a calm stroll, ostensibly arguing over Quidditch. They walked right up to their family without a care in the world, and were visibly teasing Percy over something when the bombs went off.

They kept the innocence up, and he remembered Molly indignantly insisting that her boys CLEARLY couldn't have done that; why, they were right next to her the entire time. Even Dad had been fooled.

Looking innocent…it was an art form.

He walked though a plaza, and considered stopping for a glass of wine, but figured Charlie would kill him if he was THAT nonchalant. Just two more turns now; a left and twenty feet later a right, and he'd be there. He made that first left…

And walked straight in to Lucius Malfoy.

They actually bumped right in to each other.

"Excuse me, I didn't see you…" George came up short as he realized WHO he'd managed to find.

"Bloody idiot of a wizard, I ought to…" Malfoy came up short as he realized who he was looking at.

They stared for what seemed like a thousand years, but couldn't have been more than a few seconds. Hate filled Malfoy's face, and though there was no reason he should have to run, George decided in this moment it was prudent. He tore past Lucius, and down towards the corner.

He didn't hear what the spell was that he cast; he felt it whiz past him as he turned, and made it to the door. Entering and slamming it behind him, he looked up to a startled Charlie, no longer under polyjuice, who was standing by the floo getting dressed in his normal robes. George grabbed his as well (he'd removed them as too bulky under the invisibility cloak) and just looked at Charlie. "Malfoy! We have to leave now!" His voice came out in a jagged breath; he'd run so hard he had a stitch in his side.

Charlie shoved Ivan into the fireplace, and George joined them as he fastened his robes, and with a puff of powder, they disappeared.

WWWWWWW

Malfoy's rage was like the sun, burning hot and eternal. Bloody George Weasley! What the hell was HE doing here? Trembling he managed to get the door open of the house that the terrified witch he'd just cursed had told him the red-head had entered.

The room was empty. A small notebook had been dropped, and he picked it up, barely registering the gibberish on the page. The floo had been used; Weasley had obviously left from here. But the question is, why??

He strode angrily out into the street, and down towards his favorite pub. Amos wasn't there, he noted, which was just as well. He didn't want to alarm him if in some way George was on to the plan. Amos wasn't stable, obviously, and Lucius needed him to be as together as possible to keep this going.

He heard from Gareth Goyle though…a cousin of his death eater friends…it seemed that somehow Ivan Presliezevic had gotten himself killed.

Hm. Was Weasley involved somehow? Granted, he hadn't been anywhere near the slum Ivan lived in…and Gareth swore nobody even remotely resembling a Weasley had been nearby. There had been a Russian buying truffles…may very well have been the Russian mob, for all Malfoy knew. He didn't know much about that squib, and frankly didn't care to know, as long as he didn't interfere.

He made his way back to the hotel, calming slowly, though still…concerned. Yes, he was concerned. Which was the only reason that he was about to do what he was about to do.

He came into his room, and walked to the floo with the purpose of a nice little firechat.

"DRACO MALFOY, Hogwarts!" He sneered into the fire.

Within about thirty seconds his son's blank, unemotional face came before him. "Father. THIS is most unexpected." There was no joy in the voice of his disobedient progeny. Which was appropriate, as he had no joy himself. Still, Draco might…just might help him. Well, not intentionally, and not for his real purpose, but still.

His Slytherin mind came together. "Draco, my son…I just wanted to tell you what I just saw. You think your George Weasley is so wonderful. Well, I just spotted him having a liaison right here in Croatia."

"Father, you are twisted." Draco barely raised his eyebrows. "Are you even sure you saw him, or are you having your own little peculiar brand of fun."'

"Indeed not. But surely…" His voice became wheedling. "Surely you would know if he was here? I bet you can't give me one good reason for his presence."

Draco's eyebrows remained at attention this time. "Why would you care?"

"Well, since you have ABANDONED your creed for those…things…I thought you ought to know that they aren't any better than anybody else. In fact, worse, I think…not being upfront about it. Well, go on…prove I'm wrong."

Draco shook his head, and then paused. "Hold on, Father."

He walked out of view. He reappeared after three minutes. "I cannot believe that I even pretend to listen to your malice and spite. George Weasley has a fireworks contract in Croatia. Apparently he's hit a creative block, and he's gone over to Dubrovnik for inspiration." Draco frowned most distastefully. "And nothing you can say is going to convince me he was with a woman other than his wife." His expression went back to bored. "Don't firechat me again, old man."

With a crackle the connection was broken.

Lucius gave a smug and relieved smile, one so evil it would have frozen pure alcohol. "You are the pathetic one, Draco. Falling right in to my hands, to prove your hero blameless."

He got what he needed. George was in town for the commission. Nothing more. No connection to the strange Russian or to that bloody squib. Their plan was perfectly, wonderfully safe. He glanced again at the notebook left behind, and now saw it for what it was…fireworks diagrams. Of course!

And he looked forward even more to the moment when George Weasley lost everything.

WWWWWWW

Draco quickly spelled his floo so it would no longer accept firechats from Croatia. Blast his evil father! And then, then, he started laughing.

"Father? Can I come out now?" Scorpius peaked around his door; Draco had ordered him to his room as soon as he realized his father was calling.

"Yes, my son. Come!" He reached his arms out, and Scorpius flew in to them. "Your Grandfather is up to nasty tricks again, but I outsmarted him."

"Of course you did, Father. You are much smarter than he is, and a thousand times nicer." Scorpius said with pride. "You would never let him hurt the Weasleys!"

Draco's eyes narrowed just a bit. "Scorpius, were you listening?" He watched as his son blushed, and then he gave a smile. Good boy, he thought. A Slytherin in all the best ways. "Well, as it would seem that you listened, you are right, I wouldn't ever tell Grandfather anything that would hurt our friends. Now, go set the table; it will be dinner shortly."

Draco watched with satisfaction as his son went to do as he was told. And thought with satisfaction over his choices.

He'd known his father was managing him at once. He had no idea what his father was up to; but he'd been at the Diagon Alley shop just yesterday and had a brief chat with a worried Ron Weasley. He knew that Percy had been missing and George and Charlie had gone after him, and had been gone for several days. Draco hadn't known where, although now he guessed that it was in fact Croatia. Which meant that Percy was probably investigating something for the ministry that involved the situation over there, which NO DOUBT involved his foolish father.

But the man had only mentioned George. And Draco had thought quickly of a plausible lie (Michelle had spent much of last term moaning about George working himself to death over those fireworks). Clearly, there was no reason for his father to think either Charlie or Percy were involved.

"You raised me too well, Father." Draco chuckled.

At that moment the house-elves appeared with their food, and he rose happily, glad to know he'd done something right this time.