Chapter Twenty-Two

The Strong Are Made Weak . . .

Drew popped into being in a dark alley between two hotels in Bayswater, certain the noise wouldn't even be noticed. He cast a Disillusionment charm on himself, hopped on his broom, and flew the short distance to the building for let that had not, in the past six years, ever had an offer made on it. It was falling into disrepair due to neglect, on the outside at least. He had been informed that this was the entrance to the new Ministry of Magic headquarters, should he ever need to go there. The Ministry was no longer accessible by Floo, after all that had gone wrong there. The front entrance was the only entrance. He pressed his wand to the cold glass behind which hung the sign with the number to call if one was interested in the space, and spoke his (false) name. The glass opened itself outward like two automatic doors, he stepped calmly into the dark, musty interior, and the glass swung shut again.

When the glass closed itself with a click, the lights appeared and blinded him. He shut his eyes briefly, and noticed the decaying smell being replaced with the smells of coffee, stone, and living bodies—sweat, cologne, and something indefinable but warm that simply meant "people." The sounds of footsteps and conversation filled his ears, and he opened his eyes again to find himself standing in a large foyer that was dominated by a large wooden desk that curved ever so slightly and gleamed under the light of an enormous chandelier filled with hundreds of candles. It was rather more modern than the old Ministry building, he reflected. He turned around and saw the glass window with the sign hanging in it, and the dark street outside. None of the brilliant light in here spilled out onto the street. He smiled, and walked purposefully up to the huge desk which had two women and a man sitting behind it.

"Hello, I'm looking for—"

"Wand, please," one of the women, the older one, interrupted him.

Not surprised, though annoyed at her rudeness, he handed the wand over. She handed it to the younger woman to inspect while she herself leaned over to peer at him nearsightedly, pushing up her glasses a bit.

"What brings you to the Ministry this evening?"

"I need to get to the Auror office."

The man behind the counter immediately had a wand on him. "What is your business with the Aurors?"

He took a step back, and held up his hand in defense while the other hand gripped the head of his cane with white knuckles. "I need to speak to Harry Potter."

The older woman's wand was out in a flash, and the younger toyed with his wand uncertainly, like she meant to turn it on him. Employee-in-training, he pegged her in the back of his brain. The front of his brain was a little more concerned with the threat of the other two.

"Why?"

"Something's happened at Hogwarts. I'm a professor there, Professor Stevens. I need to speak to the Aurors about this immediately."

They lowered their wands.

"We've already been informed about it," the woman said in a queer voice. "But a first-hand account would probably be valuable to them upstairs, don't you think Paul?"

The man nodded soberly. "Professor Stevens, you said?"

He nodded. "The American," he confirmed. Of course the Ministry would know about him. What he didn't understand is how they already knew about Hogwarts. Even if Smith had found the time to get a message to Potter and the Aurors, how had they already communicated it to the staff?

"He may have his wand, Anna."

The young woman handed it over tentatively, holding it like a dangerous weapon. Well, perhaps it was, sometimes. But not tonight.

Drew headed in the direction they pointed him, fearing what awaited him at the top of the stairs.

---Break---

"Go to the Burrow, and do it now, Ginny. You can't protect all three of you without help. Give Charlie a call, and get him down here to help you. I can't be worrying about you tonight, I just can't. You just make sure the kids are safe. I've got to go." The voice was suddenly softer. "Sunshine. I'll find him. I will."

Harry pulled his head out of the fire in Kingsley Shackebolt's office only long enough to tell it that he wanted to connect to Ambassador Granger-Weasley's office, and then thrust his dark head back in.

"Hermione, thank God, you're there. Listen to me very closely, and don't ask questions. Go get your kids out of school right now. Take them home, or take them somewhere safe. Do not let them out of your sight, Hermione. Not for an instant. They could be in serious danger." There was a long pause. "Tyrell's got Matt, Hermione," he said in a very strange voice. "He's got my son. He's holding him ransom for information. Yes. Go home now, and stay there until I contact you again."

His head came out of the fire again, and now he got up off his knees and turned. He saw Drew standing in the doorway, and Drew met his gaze. Up until now, he hadn't known the full truth of what had happened, though he should have guessed after seeing Bear on the ground beneath the window of Gryffindor tower. Harry's eyes were bright with tears and anxiety and his face was drawn with terror. Then something in him changed. In an instant, before Drew realized what was happening, he was being slammed against the wall and Harry was holding a wand to his throat, his breathing ragged.

"Mr. Potter," he squeezed out past the pressure the slightly shorter man's arms were putting on his chest. "I'm your son's teacher. At Hogwarts. I'm Drew Stevens."

The other man faltered. He pulled back, but kept his wand where it was. He moved his gaze over the characteristic eyepatch and cherry wood cane that Drew was certain everyone had heard about by now. They would confirm his identity for him.

"Tell me something about Matt that only his Head of house would know," Harry said, his eyes burning with both fear and anger.

"He has nightmares. About the murder of his birth parents. I sit up with him from time to time when he can't sleep. If he talks about it, he always rubs the scar on his neck where he was burned in one of the explosions." That softened Harry's eyes immensely, in fact, it filled them with tears again. "He didn't try out for Quidditch, but he spends half his time talking to his best friend Berengaria, better known as Bear, and another boy named Randolph, better known as Ran, about their team strategy and analyzing their games."

Harry drew his wand away, and Drew let out a breath of relief, but Drew still kept talking, determined to convince Harry beyond all doubt that the man he was speaking with was Drew Stevens. Because, for a moment, there had been something in Harry Potter's eyes that looked a lot like recognition.

"He spends most of his time, apart from Bear, with two Ravenclaw boys named Basil and Milt. He tells me he spent the New Year holiday with Basil Townsend's family. I have been giving all the children I've mentioned private lessons in defensive techniques just in case . . . in case something like this happened. And you don't know, Mr. Potter, how awfully sorry I am that I wasn't able to do enough. I should have been able to do more, teach him something, to keep him from being taken like this." Drew finally dropped his eyes. "I'm sorry."

"He's such a good boy," Harry whispered painfully, and Drew nearly screamed and punched him full in the face. Harry Potter should not act like this. He would never cry like this in front of his archrival. But then, perhaps his archrival shouldn't be admitting how dearly he cared for a group of children who had wormed their way into a heart he hadn't known he had. Then again, Drew Stevens was not his archrival. Thank Merlin for that.

"I'm sorry for our rough introduction, Professor Stevens," Harry said, holding out his hand to shake it. "I should have known that you wouldn't have made it into this room if you meant me any harm."

"You think the old woman and her sidekicks at the front desk would stop someone as dangerous as Tyrell?"

Harry smiled in a very unamused way. "Let's just say you don't want to get on Georgiana's bad side, Professor. Nor Terrence's, the Auror who would have showed you in here."

"I'm sure I wouldn't," he agreed. Then he took a deep breath and said what he came to say. "Mr. Potter, you need to know something."

Harry turned startled eyes on him, and he pointed his wand again.

"Listen to me, please. I have to tell you something, and I have a condition."

"A condition," he repeated in disbelief.

"You must not ask me how I got this information. And you must trust me that what I am saying is the truth. I have no reason to lie about this, Mr. Potter. I want to see Matt safe as much as you do. Can you do that?"

Harry hesitated, obviously torn between suspicion and the need to find his son. Drew felt something he never thought he'd feel for Harry Potter. Compassion.

"Yes," he said slowly. "Yes, tell me. Please."

"It's not Draco Malfoy that has joined Tyrell's cause."

"How do you—"

"No, you said you wouldn't ask. It is not Draco Malfoy. It is his brother."