A/N: Hi, it's me. I haven't forgotten this fic, don't worry!

Thankfully, Stark did not give a practical demonstration of what his suit could do. Instead, he activated a blue hologram above his workstation that he manipulated to give them visuals of everything as he spoke.

"I'm impressed," said Harry, after Stark had explained how he'd incorporated additional runes into the body of the suit – mostly to control his speed and stabilization while flying, but there were a few offensive runes, as well – which could be separately or simultaneously activated in the palms and boots of his suit. It was absolutely brilliant, actually. He'd managed to find a way that he himself could actually put the magic generator in his chest to use and keep it from interfering with the other electronics in the suit.

"You managed all this in the last week?" She asked him, incredulously. Stark looked at her oddly.

"Well, no," he said, a bit slowly. "I built the original prototype in the cave; that's how I escaped."

Harry turned quickly to Phil, hoping to find some reassurance that SHIELD had recovered it, but he only shook his head.

"Merlin's bloodiest hangnail," she sighed, rubbing her scar out of pure habit. "I suppose we have to assume the Ten Rings found it – or whoever paid them."

"They won't be able to use it."

"Stark, all they'll need to find is a witch or wizard willing to activate the runes, and they obviously already have one somewhere in their back pocket," Harry explained. She definitely wasn't an expert on runes, but she knew that much.

Stark was already shaking his head. "Won't work," he insisted, "the runic sequences are only complete when they match up with the one on the arc reactor." He tapped his chest meaningfully. "Last I checked, they don't have it."

Harry let out her breath with some relief, but she didn't think it would be wise to exclude the possibility that the Ten Rings would figure out how to use Stark's prototype suit somehow.

"Did you find who paid them yet?" Ms. Potts asked abruptly. Harry had forgotten she was there for a minute, engrossed by Stark's invention.

"No," Phil answered her. "We still think it's an inside job, but we haven't been able to find any proof. You've seen everything we found on the board's personal computers."

Stark hummed loudly. "Y'know what I'd do? If I was going to arrange to have terrorists kidnap me? I'd do it at work."

"I've already had someone conduct an internal investigation, Tony. If there was anything on our servers –"

"They wouldn't find it if it was in a secure R&D project file," Stark cut her off. "I coded the firewalls on those myself; they're unbreakable."

"The project firewalls are unbreakable," Ms. Potts said flatly, her eyes briefly fluttering closed.

"Well, duh," Stark said, oblivious to his PA's distress. "Wouldn't want our competitors hacking into them and stealing company secrets. Not that Hammer would know what to do with our schematics, but y'know, it's the principle."

Ms. Potts glared at her boss, and he quickly changed his tune.

"Okay, okay, give me forty-five… no, thirty minutes, tops," he said quickly. "J and I will cook something up."

Harry's robe pocket burned during this exchange, and she quickly retrieved her card to read the message: Two Hot Pockets. You want to put 'em in the microwave? She rolled her eyes at Ron's 'code words'. He'd been watching too many Muggle cop dramas.

"Looks like you didn't kill all our terrorists, Stark," Harry said, but it was clear that Stark wasn't paying attention anymore, his focus utterly devoted to the blue hologram full of code in front of him. She turned to Phil. "Want to help with the interrogation?"

To her surprise, he shook his head. "I think I'll keep an eye on things here."

He probably did have a point, there. They had already seen the consequences of leaving Stark unobserved, and Ms. Potts looked relieved that someone was going to stay as backup.

"Good luck, then," Harry said, and Phil gave her a grateful smile as she Apparated away.

The ICW Headquarters had been in Geneva since the first Convention there in 1864, although its location had moved around the city several times, and was now located beneath the Palais des Nations. The Auror offices were directly behind the hall where the ICW held their annual meetings, as it was most convenient for any trials that they became involved in. Harry entered by the side door, feeling the wards slide over her gently, and was greeted by Williams jumping to his feet to greet her.

"Hey, that was quick," he said. "We thought you'd be caught up with Stark."

"Phil's sitting on him," Harry grinned.

"Merlin, Harry, you better get a ring on him soon. He's a Keeper."

Harry laughed his words off, but she had been thinking about it, and although she hadn't discussed it with Phil yet, she was pretty sure he'd thought about it, too. He was the planning type, after all. But she didn't really have time to think about how much she'd like to marry Phil – she had a suspect to interrogate.

"Which room is Ron in?" she asked Williams, leading the way to the holding cells. They'd been splitting up into pairs for interviews and interrogations, herself with Ron, and Williams with Matras.

"One," he told her, as he turned to go down the hall to holding cell two.

Harry stepped into the first cell. Their suspect was sitting Stunned and Incarceroused in a chair, and on a table in front of him was a blank sheet of parchment, and a quill. Ron was sitting slouched in the only other chair in the room, but he straightened with a grin when Harry entered.

"Ready to wake this guy up?"

"Sure," Harry agreed. "Do we know what language he speaks?"

"Not sure. Most likely is Pashto or Dari, so take your pick," he said, lifting his wand to aim at the man's head, and looking at her expectantly. Harry took a deep breath, and then gave him a firm nod.

"Ennervate."

The man in the chair jolted awake and looked around the holding cell wildly. Harry didn't waste any time.

"Traducere Verbum Pashto," she said, placing her wand tip to her throat. "Can you understand me?"

The translation spell had a few limitations: they had to know what language the suspect spoke, and it couldn't be reliably cast on another person. It was a bit of a guessing game sometimes, but once they had the language figured out, they could use a different translation spell on the quill and parchment to record and understand what the suspect was saying.

The man's eyes jumped to her, but she didn't think he'd understood what she said, his gaze still uncomprehending, and his jaw moving back and forth with what she assumed was fear. She raised her wand to her throat again.

"Traducere Verbum Dari," she incanted, and just as she finished speaking, there was an odd cracking noise from the man's jaw. "What was that?"

He smiled at her, exposing his yellowing teeth in a terrifying grimace, and then a thick black foam began to spill out of his mouth.

"Accio Antidote!" Harry heard Ron yell, as he dashed behind her to open the door so the potion wouldn't smash itself against it. There was an echo from down the hall as she heard Matras yell out the same spell. The potion landed in Ron's hand not even two seconds later, but Harry was pretty sure it was already too late. The suspect's convulsions had peaked, and by the time Harry had forced the man's mouth open so that Ron could pour in the All-Purpose Antidote that they kept on hand, he was barely twitching.

Ron let loose a creative stream of vulgarity that Harry felt was entirely appropriate.

"Death Potion in his tooth?"

Harry looked up and saw Matras in the doorway with Williams right behind him, and both wearing somber looks. She cancelled her translation spell with a flick. "Yeah," she said, with a heavy sigh. "Your guy, too?"

She already knew the answer before he nodded, but the confirmation was still a bit of a blow. It was protocol, of course, to search all suspects for any dangerous paraphernalia, and she was sure her team had taken every precaution, but somehow this had slipped through regardless. Unfortunately, she supposed this meant they were entirely dependent on Stark's success in hacking his own company to further their investigation. Not that Harry disliked Stark, but she didn't like not being useful.

Although, she thought suddenly, there was still one thing she could do to get answers out of their suspects… she reached into her mokeskin pouch, and quickly found what she wanted.

Ron's eyes lit up when he saw the ring on her finger.

"Brilliant, mate," he said. Matras and Williams looked puzzled.

"What's going on?" Williams asked. "What's the ring do?"

"It's one of the –"

"Long story," Harry cut off Ron. "Basically, it'll let us talk to him. Try not to freak out."

She was sure they had more questions, but thankfully, they decided to save them, and Harry turned her attention to the ring. She was pretty sure she didn't need it, but since walking into the Forest to her death, she had never attempted this again. With her eyes on the man lying dead in the chair, she spun the ring about her finger three times.

Harry heard Matras and Williams murmur in surprise as the man's shade appeared directly next to his own dead body. She swiftly cast the translation spell and asked him again, "Can you understand me?"

The man had been staring at his own dead body in wide-eyed horror, but he looked up at her when she spoke, and his eyes filled with fear. She wasn't sure what he said in response, but she heard the scratch of the Quick-quotes quill, and glanced down at the parchment.

"Yes," read the translated statement, and Harry smiled in relief. At last they were finally getting somewhere.

"Alright, now tell me: who did you work for?"