1 March 1970

Avery's secretary-who introduced herself as Stephenie McMillan-opened the door to her apartment, and stepped aside to allow Moody in.

He had to admit, it was a nice-looking place. Apparently she fancied herself a bit of an interior decorator, and the way she had designed and decorated her home seemed to show she was good at it.

"So, what is there you wanted to know?" asked McMillan with a polite smile. Moody wondered if he looked out of place in this colourful and welcoming place, with his tough, standoffish appearance and drab, practical sense of clothing style.

"You can sit down at the table if you like," she added.

Moody obliged her. McMillan sat down on the opposite side of the table to him.

"Where would you like to start about Mr. Avery?" she asked him.

"Well," started Moody, "I think I'd like to start by asking some more questions about your employer's holiday. Firstly, did he give much notice that he was going away?"

McMillan shook her head. "No, not much. Only a day or two before he left. I found it odd, but I didn't think much of it at the time. He'd been working rather hard lately, and so I thought at the time he deserved a holiday."

"Did he say when he would be back?"

"No."

'That's that, then,' thought Moody. 'She doesn't seem to know much else on that particular matter, so it'd be useless to press on and keep asking her questions she can't answer.'

"What about this man?" he then asked, taking out a picture of Igor Karkaroff. "Has he been in contact with him?"

Again, McMillan shook her head. "I've never seen him before. He looks dangerous."

"He is dangerous," replied Moody. "The DMLE and various other law-enforcement agencies have been keeping their eyes on him for the past few years, as we are under the impression he is a freelance assassin and mercenary. He's also a leading suspect in the recent abduction of Martha Kane in Gotham City in America."

"Merlin," gasped McMillan. "Wait-are saying that you think that Mr. Avery-he had a hand in that too?"

"We received information from MACUSA suggesting he may have been personally involved," replied Moody. "What we do not know, however, is if he was doing so willingly or otherwise, or if it definitely is him."

"What do you mean?" asked McMillan.

"For all we know," explained Moody, "he could be under the Imperius Curse. Or it could be someone impersonating him-maybe via Polyjuice Potion, Metamorphmagus, or Transfiguration."

McMillan didn't know what to say.


"Look," sighed Moody, trying to sound comforting and helpful (in spite of his gravelly voice and general demeanour), "just tell me where he is. What you tell me could end up being what gets him cleared. The last thing I want is to see an innocent man go to Azkaban."

McMillan sighed and steeled herself for what she would tell the Auror. She wasn't entirely sure what to say, but she knew if she something inaccurate or made something up that sounded like something the Auror probably wanted to hear, she'd be in deep trouble. She was pretty sure the Auror knew this too, which might have been why he emphasised to her the possibility Mr. Avery was innocent or under the control of someone else.

Sighing again, she began to speak.

"I started working for Mr. Avery in June 1962, about a year after I left Hogwarts. It's been good pay for someone doing secretarial work, and the hours have not been too long-I start work at 9'clock, I have lunch at 1 o'clock for an hour, and then I go back to the office and work again until 5 in the evening, and I get 1 galleon an hour for it."

"And do you work Sundays?" asked Moody. "Hence why you were leaving the office when we met?"

McMillan shook her head. "No, no, no, I don't. It's a six-day work week for me mostly. Yesterday, there were some documents that had been forgotten about by everyone else, and I'd volunteered to go in today and sort them all out. I got paid the usual hourly rate for it, and it took me about 4 hours to get them all ready."

'9 hours a day, for 6 days a week, is 54 Galleons a week, and roughly 216 Galleons per month,' thought Moody, impressed. 'It's a lot of money to be paying someone for secretary work. In Muggle money, it adds up to £33,852 per year. The Junior Assistant to the Minister is only paid half that much.'

"Quite a sizeable sum," he said aloud. McMillan nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, I thought it a bit much too, especially for what I'm doing, but I'm not really complaining otherwise." She spread her arms out and looked around the apartment. "I probably wouldn't be able to live in here otherwise."

"Agreed. Anyway, as you were saying, Miss McMillan?"

"Oh, yes, right!" exclaimed McMillan before she continued explaining to Moody.


"Anyway, about...I'd say 5 or 6 years ago, he began to act...a little strangely, for a few weeks."

"How was he behaving?" asked Moody. "Strangely, that is-how was he behaving strangely?"

"Well, sometimes he would randomly leave the office during working hours. He's more often than not the first person to arrive and the last to leave, so for him to be going out during these hours...it wasn't right."

"Anything else?" asked Moody.

"Well, when he returned," continued McMillan, "he was often...tense, fidgeting, and standoffish: quite different from how he usually was. Sometimes he'd be rubbing his forearm as if it hurt really badly."

"But then, when those few weeks were passed, he was behaving more...as he usually did. The strange behaviour was gone, for the most part. He still rubs his forearm sometimes, but other than that, he's alright."

"And that's that?" asked Moody. "It certainly sounds strange, and probably worth looking into. But we need more."

"I was going to continue," retorted McMillan sharply.

"Sorry," said Moody. "Go on."

"After this period of...eccentric behaviour passed, and things back to as they usually do, I sort-of put thoughts about what he was doing out of my mind. Until last year, when I was having dinner at The Three Broomsticks."

"What happened?" asked Moody.

"The barmaid-Rosmerta, I think her name is-well, as she was taking my order, she asked me if I worked for Mr. Avery. I told her so, and then she told me that she'd seen Mr. Avery up in here with a couple other men, all dressed in dark clothes a few years before, when she had gone down from Hogwarts on the weekend. Right around the time that he was behaving strangely."

Moody raised an eyebrow questioningly. McMillan noticed this, interpreted it as an unspoken question of 'how was this suspicious?', and answered accordingly.

"He...he's never really liked going into pubs or bars like The Three Broomsticks," she explained. "If he goes in one, it's only because of business reasons-to soften potential clients and put them at ease, or make himself seem more approachable. He prefers to eat at the more upscale restaurants. I handle his timetables and schedules, and he had no meetings whatsoever on that day with anyone."

"Interesting," murmured Moody. "Did Rosmerta say who they were, or how many were there?"

"Who he was with? No," replied McMillan, "no, she didn't. Maybe she didn't recognise them, or maybe she thought it wasn't worth mentioning."

"I see," murmured Moody thoughtfully.


"So," asked McMillan, "was that enough, that I told you? What will you be doing now, Auror Moody?"

"I'll be going to see the barmaid, Rosmerta, at The Three Broomsticks, and try and get her side of the story, see what she can tell me," replied Moody. "And while what you've told me may not seem like it's much to you, and even though it may seem circumstancial, to me it is very helpful indeed, and it's certainly given me enough leads that I can investigate further."

"When do you plan on approaching her?" asked McMillan. "I imagine that now that it's dinnertime for most people, she'd be extra busy around there, wouldn't you think?"

"I agree with you," replied Moody, "but it's best if I try and contact her as soon as I can," Moody replied. "This is a serious matter we're dealing with here-probably the first major kidnapping of a British or Irish wizard since the Grindelwald War. If I don't act soon enough, then I might be endangering Martha Kane's life, and that of her fiance."

Having come to the conclusion that he had gotten as much as he could from McMillan, Moody stood up and straightened himself.

"Thank you for your help, Ms. McMillan," said Moody politely, sticking out his hand.

"Oh, yes, of course, you're welcome, Auror Moody," replied McMillan, taking his hand and shaking it. "I'm glad to be of help to you. I hope you're able to find Martha Kane and her fiance."

"I hope to find them too," agreed Moody. "And if your employer, Mr. Avery, is involved-"

"If he is involved," interrupted McMillan, speaking with optimism, "I hope it's because he was forced to, and not because he chose to. But if he's choosing to be part of this, I hope you catch him and that justice gets its way."

"Thank you," answered Moody. "If myself or anyone else at the Auror Office need any more information from you, we'll let you know. Have a good day."

"You too, Auror Moody," replied McMillan as she opened the door and allowed Moody to leave, waving goodbye as she did so (he returned the gesture with a nod).

'Justice doesn't always get its way,' thought Moody silently as he walked down the stairs and out of McMillan's apartment building, 'but the sentiment is certainly welcome.'


As soon as Moody Apparated into Hogsmeade, he headed straight for The Three Broomsticks to talk with Rosmerta the barmaid.

He knew what she looked like, even if he'd never seen her before-he'd heard enough men in the Ministry discussing 'the fit barmaid' (among other terms) at the Broomsticks for the past 2 years (when she was hired) to know who to look for.

Upon entering the bar, he found that McMillan's prediction was correct-nearly every table was occupied with someone tucking into a wonderful roast dinner. Moody stepped out for a moment to look at the sign and see what the roast of the day was. The sign-written in a special chalk that glowed in the dark, like a Muggle neon sign-told him that it was mutton.

Moody hadn't had mutton in years-he had found out the hard way (back at Hogwarts) that it disagreed with his system. He already had a meal prepared at home that he just needed to heat, so he was alright.

Going back inside, he went up to the bar, sat down at the only empty stool left, and waited, ordering only water when the bartender asked him. From his seat he could see quite a lot of activity in the pub-a few wizards he knew to be Unspeakables; Silvanus Kettleburn (longtime Care and Magical Creatures Professor at Hogwarts, currently on probation for the umpteenth time).

And manoeuvring between the tables was an attractive blonde woman in a nice grey dress and turquoise heels that could only be Rosmerta-she matched the descriptions used by the Ministry gossip, and she was working as a barmaid and waitress. It was simple logic.

"What brings you here?" asked the bartender. Moody turned and looked at his face.

"There's something I need to talk to the barmaid about," answered Moody bluntly.

"Ah, I see," replied the bartender. "Rosmerta, I take it?"

Moody nodded in confirmation. "That's the one, alright."

The bartender leaned down on the bar, a knowing look in his eyes. "It's to do with the Kane case, isn't it?" he asked Moody, his voice just above a whisper so that nobody else could hear him.

"I'm afraid it is," replied Moody. "It's not that she's a suspect-far from it-but I've come into some information that has led me to believe she herself may know something that could help me crack the case and find out who's behind it."

"Is that so?"

Moody nodded, taking a sip from his glass of water. "So it is," he replied to the bartender when he had swallowed, "so it is. It's why I'll need to speak to her-preferably when business has died down a little."

"You'll be here a while, then," replied the bartender. "Wait until...maybe wait for another few hours, Auror Moody. Rosmerta's shift tonight doesn't end until 11 o'clock. I'll let her know that someone's here from the Ministry to speak to her as soon as I can."

Moody nodded. "Alright then-sounds reasonable," he agreed. "Where exactly should we speak?"

The bartender pointed back with his thumb towards the direction of the rooms. "Back there. There's enough security to make the Department of Mysteries jealous. It's the perfect place to speak."

"Thank you," replied Moody. He looked around the pub from his seat at the bar, taking in the crowded and noisy, yet also warm and friendly, atmosphere. "It looks like I'll be here for a while."


At 11 o'clock, Rosmerta-her shift now over for the night-went through the back and entered one of the private dining rooms. The bartender had told her that there was someone from the Ministry who wanted to talk to her in private-away from prying eyes and eavesdroppers-about something important. She didn't know what for, but she didn't like the sound of it.

Inside, sitting in an armchair by the empty fireplace was a tall, strongly-built man somewhere in his 30s with long reddish-brown hair, blue eyes and wearing a brown leather overcoat over a woollen sweater and brown trousers and combat boots. He shifted in the seat as he turned to look at her.

She'd seen him before-he certainly looked familiar, and she knew he worked for the Ministry-but she wasn't too sure where from exactly.

"You're Miss Rosmerta, correct?" he asked her.

"Y-yes, I am," replied Rosmerta, "I'm her. Julie Rosmerta. Who-who-who are you, though?"

"My name's Alastor Moody. I work for the Ministry as an Auror."

"Oh God," she muttered under her breath. "If it's about that time when I was 10 and turned a Muggle's hair orange in a public park, it was a long time ago, it was accidental magic-he scared me, and I'm sure it was cleared up with the Improper Use of Magic Office!" she said, very quickly and nervously.

Moody raised an eyebrow in confusion. "What?"

"Oh, so that's not why you're here. Oh, thank goodness!"

"You said it yourself, Miss Rosmerta. The matter's been cleared up, you were only a child at the time and it was merely accidental magic, and it's not why I'm here."

"Oh, alright, then. So why are you here, and why do you need to speak to me?"

"Miss Rosmerta, I'm here mostly to discuss an incident that happened here several years ago that you witnessed," explained Moody. "While I'm sure that at the time you didn't think much of it at the time, being only a student visiting Hogsmeade, I've recently come into some information that suggests that it actually may have been important after all."


Rosmerta sat down in the armchair opposite Moody's.

"So what is it exactly you wanted to speak to me about?" she asked him.

"Several years ago-when you were still a Hogwarts student-you came down here to Hogsmeade, possibly with friends. You came inside this establishment and noticed a group men sitting together, did you not?"

Rosmerta drew her hand to her mouth, as if she was trying to recall what had happened.

She shook her head. "No. It wasn't here. It wasn't the Three Broomsticks, Auror Moody, where I saw them," she replied. "It was at The Hog's Head. It was as part of a dare. Who told you about this?"

A look of enlightenment seeped into her eyes, as if she had figured out why he was here and why he was asking her these questions, and perhaps even who it was that had revealed this information to Moody-Avery's secretary.

"This is to do with the Kane case over in America, isn't it?" she asked him.

Moody was slightly taken aback by her question, but he didn't show it. Instead he pressed on.

"This is related to the Kane kidnapping over in America," confirmed Moody, "and I'd like it very much if you didn't tell anyone about this. Myself and my superiors are under the impression that it is the work of a small group of wizards-the same group who partook in the attack in Diagon Alley in January."

"No!" gasped Rosmerta. "You mean...they're connected?"

Moody nodded. "And if they find out you're giving information that could lead to us foiling their plans and exposing their members, they will in all likelihood make you a target, and if that happens, the best-case scenario would be that they kill you immediately and leave it at that."

He didn't need to say what the worst-case scenarios would be: she looked like she knew damn well what it was likely to be, and he imagined that nothing he could say would come close to the horrors she was imaging would happen if she was caught.


"It was a long time ago that I went into the Hog's Head," she explained. "When I was in 5th Year, to be exact, back in 1964. Nobody ever really liked going into the Hog's Head-we thought it was too dirty and weird, and that the people who went in weren't the kind we should be around anyways. But me and my friends, we decided to play a little game and see who actually would go in before the bartender threw us out."

"How did you get chosen then?" asked Moody.

"Well, we took some sticks, transfigured them into straws, and then drew them," replied Rosmerta. "I drew the short straw. So I went in. It seemed to have been a slow day, because there was barely anybody in there. Just the bartender wiping the bar with a dirty old rag that ought to have been thrown out years ago, and this strange group of men in black cloaks sitting and talking together in the corner."

"What happened next?" asked Moody slowly. He was starting to wonder how much danger she would be in if this group were to find out what she was doing and remember when she had seen them in the Hog's Head.

Rosmerta was slow to respond, as if she was trying to recollect what happened. "I...I began to feel a little bit frightened by them, so after 5 minutes I walked out quickly and didn't look back," she replied finally.

She sighed. "I've tried hard not to think about this for some time, and it did happen a long time ago. So forgive if I'm unable to give you all the details."

"I understand," replied Moody sincerely. He had been aware of this the whole time, but even a tiny bit of information was better than no information at all. So even if Miss Rosmerta was unable to remember everything, then it was still worth pursuing, if on the chance that part of what did remember proved to be the key to everything.

A thought then struck Moody. A way to truly find everything she had in her head that she couldn't now remember. "Suppose we were to examine that memory through a Pensieve, Miss Rosmerta?" he suggested to her.

Rosmerta's face took on a reluctant expression, and she bit her lip, as if unsure if it was a good idea-an uncertainty she soon voiced to Moody. "Are-are you sure it's a good idea, Auror Moody? I mean...I've no idea if the Ministry has a Pensieve, and if they did have one, why would they bring it out just to examine some young woman's memories?"

"They do," replied Moody, "but it hasn't been used for a very long time-in the 1920s, the Wizengamot felt the ways to separate false memories from real ones weren't yet reliable and so moved to discontinue it. I don't think they'd be too keen on bringing it back, even now. If we're going to use a Pensieve, we'll need to use someone else's."

"And you know where to find one?" asked Rosmerta, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, yes," replied Moody with a confident grin, "I know just the place to go."


"We're really pulling things out of our asses now, aren't we?" remarked Bradley once Alfred had finished explaining his idea to him, arms crossed and a skeptical look in his eyes.

Alfred nodded in agreement. "At least we're coming up with something and not just standing around and doing nothing."

"Good point," agreed Bradley, nodding. "In fairness, it's not a bad idea. They're obviously going to list what they want from us in exchange for the return of Thomas Wayne and Martha Kane, and so long as it's something material, not something like a list of demands for MACUSA and the British Ministry to carry out, it should do good. Even a letter from us agreeing to their demands would work in alerting us to them."

"And so long as they don't check to make sure that there aren't any charms on whatever it is they want, or even enchant against tracking charms. If they do either, then we're fucked."

Bradley grimaced mildly. Alfred wasn't too sure if it was because of the swear or the thought of what happened if they failed to rescue Thomas and Martha.

"There are ways to circumvent detection of tracking spells," pointed out Bradley. "We just need to use one way that will allow us to get hold of their location and then allow you, me and a small number of Aurors to go in, apprehend the kidnappers, and rescue Thomas and Martha."

"Yes, we do," agreed Alfred.

"And if they're smart, they'll double-check everything, and make sure we haven't tried to find a way to circumvent spell detection," added Bradley. "Maybe even something that is triggered by spell detection."

"Could it work?" asked Alfred, his interest piqued.

"It's risky," answered Bradley, "but it's worth a shot. If we do it right, then it could, for a moment, nullify whatever protective enchantments they have on their safehouse and where they're keeping Martha and Thomas. Done wrong, it'll just expose itself. We don't have a lot of options, do we?"

"No, we don't," Alfred replied, agreeing with Bradley. "But if we do it right, a moment's all we're going to need. Have you any ideas for what to use?"

"I think I do, yeah. What we do is-"

At that moment, before Bradley could finish his sentence, the door of his office burst open, and in came Alexander Trent, appearing short of breath and almost panicked. Alfred noticed he had an envelope in his hand.


AN: I own none of the characters. You know who does.

Stephenie McMillan is named after the late set decorator for the Harry Potter films (Anna Pinnock succeeded her for Fantastic Beasts). While my profile page makes my dislike of OCs clear, I'm willing to use loopholes, so she'll probably be the mother of one of Harry's classmates.

Seeing as I'm stuck at home for the next 2 weeks (the university's been closed), maybe I'll use the extra time to work on Chapter 31.