It was Friday night and Harry was picking up Daphne from her apartment "Ooh. I almost didn't recognize you like that." She wasn't just complimenting him - they were both polyjuiced. The two people they were replacing had been asked to stay home for the night (In John's case, that had been accompanied by a subtle stunner, as Harry didn't trust him to keep his word).

"We look like a couple on a date," Daphne continued to tease Harry as they Apparated down to the nightclub.

"Except that the people we're pretending to be are not dating, and we need the suspect to think that you're still an easy mark." Harry was starting to feel a little uncomfortable. He hadn't told Flora where he was going. 'But this is just an Auror stake out. Nothing to it.' Except most stake-outs didn't involve going to a dance club with an attractive (non-Auror) woman. 'It's ok – she'll never know.'

"Oh, poo. You're no fun" Daphne stuck out her tongue at Harry, causing him to stop in shock. "What, you didn't think that the 'Ice queen of Slytherin' was all there was to me?

"Um, yeah, I kind of did." Harry admitted.

Daphne shrugged as they showed their IDs to the bouncer at the door. "We were all kids, and we all had our issues. That was my way of dealing with mine. In retrospect, it was dumb." She shrugged her shoulders. "Ooh, I can see what the appeal of being a metamorphomagis is – I like this body. It's so jiggly." She pushed up on her breasts, causing Harry to blush furiously.

"Will you stop that!" He hissed as they walked into the main room of the nightclub, "We're here for serious business!" Maybe this was a bad idea. But who else could he have gotten to help? The Aurors were stretched thin. 'I should have asked Flora.' Except Flora hated crowds.

Harry ordered a pair of drinks, vanishing the alcohol from them as he sat down opposite Daphne. "You have the better view of the entrance, so let me know if anybody suspicious comes in."

"Suspicious? And how will I know.? I'm not a trained Auror!" Daphne reached out to squeeze Harry's bicep.

Harry sighed, "Just look for somebody who stares at us too long, like they recognize us, but doesn't come over to say hi."

Daphne looked at Harry like he was the village idiot. "Harry, I'm a hot, slightly over-endowed woman in a too short mini-skirt. EVERY guy coming in through that door is going to look at me too long." She paused, "Though not as long as they would if I was my normal self."

Harry rubbed at his forehead. This was going to be a long night.

/\/\MLC/\/\

An hour later, and they still hadn't had any bites. Daphne stood up, grabbing Harry's arm. "Let's go dance."

"But we can't see the door from there."

"It doesn't matter – dancing is why people come here, and if we want to fit in, we should also. Besides, eventually everybody makes it down to the dance floor. If our rapist shows up, he's more likely to approach us on there than in a private booth."

Harry nodded – that actually made sense. He should have thought of it.

The music had a fast tempo, and everybody was moving. The dance floor was full, but not so much that you had to worry about bumping into other people (except for the one guy off to the left, who looked like he was on the verge of losing all muscle coordination).

"Careful, I think that guy is high."

"Him? He's just Krumping."

Harry wasn't certain what that was. Probably dance hall jargon for drug withdrawal or something. They danced for a while. Harry couldn't help noticing how lithely Daphne moved. Even though the polyjuiced form she had was built different than her usual slim shape, she still looked good. Really good. Harry coughed and looked away.

"Hey, John, my man! Just the person I was looking for!" Harry looked up to see a nondescript man grinning at him.

Harry smiled like he recognized him, "Hey, Stuart. I wasn't expecting to see you here," Harry ventured. 'If it's not Stuart, I'll have to confundo him.'

But the guy just shrugged insouciantly, "How could I miss my favorite people." He turned to Daphne "Hey, Gwen. Looking good, as always." As he said that, his eyes unfocused – Harry had wandlessly cast a mild confundo on him. Without a wand, he didn't have a lot of control, so he had just a few minutes before it wore off.

"Can I talk to you, in private?" Harry asked urgently.

Stuart nodded with a smile, making the gesture a little bit too large. Harry lead the way to the back corridor – they passed one guy on the way to the restroom, but otherwise it was quiet here.

"I need Zombie Dust. "

"Wha? You know about that?" Stuart tried to get his eyes to focus. He didn't think he'd had that much to drink. "Sorry, man, I can't sell you. I'm all out."

"Do you know somebody who has it?"

Stuart considered. "Where did you even here about that?" He knew there was something weird about this conversation - John was a muggle – but he couldn't quite figure it out.

"A guy told me that it's great for hooking up with girls, and I'm having a private party up at my place next Friday, and I invited this really hot blond, but she never puts out. Come on, man! I need this!" Harry hammed up the role. The fact that it wasn't his voice made it easier to not be embarrassed at the desperate wheedling tone.

Stuart's head bobbled as he relaxed. That made sense. "Look, I'll let you know. The guy I knew got picked up by the cops last week. But if I see him, I'll pass on your interest. You'll recognize him – he dresses like it's the seventies."

Harry nodded, turning to return to the dance floor. He let Stuart go first, hitting him with a very targeted Obliviation, this time using his wand. Now he wouldn't have a clear memory of what he'd talked about tonight - he would most likely just assume that he got more sloshed than usual.

"So?" Daphne asked as she joined him as he steered for the door.

"Nothing. It's a dead end."

"Well, aren't you going to arrest him and bring him in for interrogation?" The two took the corner to the alley.

Harry frowned as he took the antidote to the Polyjuice. "I don't remember you being an Auror, Ms. Greengrass."

"Oh, so it's ok for you to ask for my assistance, but once you got what you wanted, it's all over? That's so typical of a man."

Harry sighed in frustration, "He doesn't have any on him, and without that, it's just Gwen's word against his. And all Gwen knows is that she has a blank in her memories. Also, his dealer is the guy I picked up last week, so arresting him gains us absolutely nothing."

"Well, what about that Disco Dave? I think you said his name was Larry the Tool. Did you get anything from him?"

Harry shrugged, not meeting Daphne's eyes."I'm working on it, but the department is too busy to deal with 'low level crime'" Harry made air quotes.

"Which is Auror-speak for you're letting him out without pressing charges."

Harry didn't reply. Partly because it was Auror business, but mostly because he was ashamed of the Auror force. "I'll see you later, Greengrass."

As he turned to Apparate home, she called out, "I'd like that, actually."

Harry paused, "Greengrass… Daphne – I like you, but this is work. It's not a date." And he disappeared with a quite pop.

/\/\MLC/\/\

Meanwhile, Flora arrived at the apparition point of the Bordeaux, an upscale magical dining establishment – they didn't refer to themselves as anything so déclassé as a 'restaurant' - and made her way to the Maitre-d', "May I help you, miss?"

"Yes, I am Fl.. Hestia Carrow, here to join Blaise Zambini," Flora remembered at the last moment to use her sisters name. This detective stuff was more nerve-wracking than she had expected, but it would be worth it in the end.

"Ah, right this way, mademoiselle," The Maitre d' didn't even glance at his notes before he led the way inside. He was very suave and polished, though his 'mademoiselle' did have more of a London sound than French. The 'establishment' looked like an mansion, with ornate chandeliers illuminating each room. The Maiter d' made his way past a series of interconnected rooms, each one laid out like a posh dining room, with a dark wood table and elegantly decorated walls. There were paintings on most walls, and small statues were tastefully placed in some of the corners. The rooms gave a sense of privacy and intimacy. The waitstaff passed through small passageways ensorcelled into the walls, appearing only to take orders and bring the food, or like now, to go from one passage to the next.

"So nice to see you, Hestia. You look gorgeous as ever." Blaise stood up and pulled out the chair for Flora as she entered their private room.

Flora smiled. She knew that she wasn't gorgeous by any measure, but it was nice to hear it sometimes (Harry never said it – he was too honest). "Have you been waiting long?"

"Oh, not at all – I just got here." Blaise took his seat. They had just had time for a few pleasantries before the waiter arrived. Blaise leaned over to Flora, "I would recommend the fish – they do an excellent job with it here."

Flora looked round – there were no menus. She usually went to muggle restaurants with Harry – was this a feature of magical restaurants, or was it just because this place was exorbitantly upscale? "Oh, ok. I'll take the fish," she acquiesced, forcing a smile - Blaise was still leaning excessively into her personal space.

Blaise placed his own order, in French, before turning his attention back to Flora, still too close. Flora adjusted her seat surreptitiously, "Um, yes. So what is that you do, again?" As soon as Flora spoke, she realized it was too blunt. She should have chatted him up, complimented him on… something.. before getting to her real topic. She had heard Alexandra do this sort of thing when asking (begging) Uncle for a larger stipend, but she herself never spoke that way with Harry: she just spoke her mind. 'I'm not cut out for this cloak & dagger stuff!'

"I manage all of the Caribbean accounts. That means I take care of purchasing all of the goods that he imports from that part of the world. It accounts for a good 30% of his business."

"Really?"

Blaise took that as an invitation to wax poetic about the import / export business. Flora tried to pay attention, on the off chance that he would reveal something that would be useful for Harry, but after the first ten minutes her attention started to wander. 'I wish that Harry would take me to someplace nice like this.' It was private enough so there was no chance of running into somebody connected to her family. She took a moment to compare it to the muggle 'family restaurant' that they had gone to last week. With a start she pulled her attention back to Blaise, as she realized that he had stopped talking.

"But work is more than just about the job. How are the people there?" She asked as the waiter came in with their food.

"Oh, Mr. Yaxley is a wonderful person – we are very close as well." And he was off again, talking about some business luncheon that they had gone to recently, only pausing to take bites of his meal.

'He really does like the sound of his own voice'

"I know it sounds like I just like the sound of own voice," Blaise interrupted her thoughts, "But I get like this whenever I am nervous."

"Nervous? Why?"

"Because I am with a very beautiful woman," he smiled insouciantly, a little too confident for somebody who was supposedly nervous.

Flora blushed and looked down at her napkin. "I bet you say that to all the women."

"Only when it's true."

"So everything you say is true?"

"Of course!"

"Even the fact that you are a close personal confidant of one of the most powerful men in Wizarding England?"

Blaise paused, "How about this – Come join me for dinner at his mansion this Wednesday."

"Uhm, ok." Flora smiled tentatively. 'YES' This was the sort of thing she was hoping for.

/\/\MLC/\/\

Flora wanted to tell Harry that she was going to Yaxley's mansion, but she was nervous about broaching the subject – what if he got upset that she was encroaching on his job? Being an Auror was important to him. Would he get upset at her for interfering? And buried deep in the recess of her mind was small niggling guilt that she had enjoyed her time with Blaise, and that she should feel guilty about that.

'I'll tell him tomorrow.'

Flora repeated that same mantra on Sunday, and then Monday and Tuesday. When Wednesday dawned, she realized that she had to let Harry know what she was doing that evening. Except Harry was gone – there was a note saying that he had to go into the office early, as there was a departmental meeting.

Flora got ready for her own job, but she was a bundle of nerves – everything was distracting her. She wouldn't have much time from when she got home to when she had to go out to dinner with Blaise ('Don't think of it like that!'), so she spent a half hour picking out just the right dress that she could switch into.

She was supposed to be in the shop today, processing an incoming shipment – mostly separating leaves from stems and drying them, though any roots would have to be trimmed and put in the cold box for possible use later. When she arrived, she quickly went to the back, to avoid having to talk with Neville, who was manning the counter today. Usually she enjoyed exchanging a few words with him, but today she was too anxious. She cut & dried on autopilot until the day was done. She didn't even notice if she ate lunch.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Neville called out as she Apparated away.

Back home, she quickly pulled on the dress she had selected and examined herself in the mirror. 'It's a little frumpy - I better lower the neckline a little.' A quick wave of the wand and the dress was a little more daring. Flora blushed at being seen like that, but it was for a good cause.

'Oh, right. Harry.' She quickly scribbled a note and Apparated to the address provided by Blaise.

/\/\MLC/\/\

Harry was having a bad day.

First off was the early morning meeting – they had it at the crack of dawn, so that Aurors working the day shift and the night shift could both attend. And it had lasted over an hour, with Roberts saying absolutely nothing that had any meaning. It was all inspirational team-building crap that he had learned in some seminar. How the department had money to send him to waste-of-time seminars when they didn't have enough Aurors was another question.

And then who should show up at the Ministry except Yaxley himself. Minister Thicknesse gave him a tour of the departments, forcing everybody to interrupt their work. The whole time Yaxley acted like a prospective buyer inspecting a slightly dilapidated house that he was considering converting into condos.

And now.. Lunch - "Hello Harry, how are you doing?" - With Percy the Ponce.

Harry sat down at the table in the Ministry cafeteria and pulled out the lunch he had packed from home. "I'm good. How's the wife?"

"Audrey's good. She's organizing a trip to Paris later this month – she wants to make one last trip before the little one arrives," Percy had just recently announced that his wife was expecting, and he still made a point of mentioning it regularly. "What about you? Are you and Flora going anywhere over the summer?"

"No, Flora is more of a homebody."

Percy frowned, before leaning in and continuing quietly."I don't mean to be telling you how to live your life. You're an exceptional young man, but in order to get ahead in this world, you need to go out and press the flesh – mingle with movers and shakers in the Ministry. Otherwise you will end up stuck in a dead end job like my dad. And you keep turning down all the invitations to Ministry functions because of Flora. And she has all those mental health issues. I hate to say it, but you can do better."

And this is why Percy was 'Percy the Ponce'. He had somehow managed to combine the Weasley predilection for meddling in other people's personal lives with an arrogance that he had learned working for Fudge. "And you know I'm not going to do that." Harry replied patiently, "Speaking of the high and mighty, have you heard why Thicknesse was showing Yaxley around like he was his trophy wife?" This wasn't the first time Percy had attacked Flora, and Harry had learned that he was too narrow minded to understand that somebody might not love the same sort of things (or people) as he did. It was simpler to just change the subject.

Percy grimaced and pronounced, "I'm sorry, I can't say anything negative about the Minister." From his tone, it was clear that he very much COULD say many, many negative things about the current MoM. After a pause he added more diplomatically, "Though I hear that Yaxley is hosting a gala fundraiser at his house tonight, so Thicknesse is probably getting an early start on his glad-handing."

"Huh. I wonder if any of that money will make it to the Auror department, or if it will all mysteriously disappear into the 'Thicknesse fund'."

"Harry, you know that there are rules for how these funds are handled. Please don't accuse the Minister of misappropriating funds."

"I seem to recall that those rules were re-written about a year ago, by the current Minister."

"That's getting dangerously close to slander, Harry."

"Are you going to tell me that I'm wrong?"

Percy sat quietly for a moment, glancing quickly to either side before admitting, "Not on a superficial level, no."

"Oh, trust me. The rot goes all the way down."

Percy sighed, "I can't agree. Not in public."

Harry snorted, "You're still angling for the Department of Education position?"

"Marianne Simpleton announced that she's retiring at the end of the year. I don't see why I shouldn't be the next department head."

"Good luck with that," Harry wiped his mouth and banished his trash to the bin, "But I got to get back to work."

Percy nodded, "Give my regards to Ron and the others, when you see them."

And that was the reason he subjected himself to this – Percy still refused to talk to the rest of his family, so he was their only line of communication. But despite everything, both parties did want to stay in touch.

The rest of the day was a little better, but when Harry arrived home he found a note from Flora: I have been invited to a function at the Yaxley's. I hope to have useful information when I get home. Love Flora (PS: Don't be angry)

Harry threw the note to the table. 'Why does she think I would be angry?' He wasn't. What he was was worried. Flora was a smart and competent woman, but she tended not to plan ahead. Or communicate.

Like for instance why she was going to a major gala at the Yaxley's. 'Did Alexandra strong arm her into it?' She would be surrounded by scoundrels and manipulative bastards who would spend the whole time either trying to get something from her or tearing her down for being who she was.

"She's a grown woman. I'm over thinking it." Harry went to pour himself a shot of fire-whisky, and then reconsidered, just in case. When she arrived home, she would probably be a basket case and would need him sober, to pick up the pieces.

/\/\MLC/\/\

Flora walked into the mansion on Blaise' arm to find not an intimate dinner party but a large (very large) soiree. Flora started to hyperventilate, 'This is not what I expected.'

She took a deep breath, but it didn't really help. She turned quickly to Blaise "I wasn't expecting something like this. I don't think I am dressed right." Her dress was nice, but it wasn't a formal gown the way most of the woman were dressed. If she went in like that, she would look like a fool (Step Mother had lectured her at length about clothing). "Here, let me go freshen up!" She spotted what looked like a bathroom off to one side of the corridor that lead to the main ball room.

Once inside, she quickly pulled out her calming potion and quaffed a dose. That would start working in a few minutes (she avoided the ones that worked instantly – they always made her feel woozy). She then took the time until it kicked in to transfigure her dress into something fancier, but more prim. For once in her life, Flora was grateful to step mother for something – she had forced both girls to memorize these ball gowns so that they wouldn't embarrass Step-mother if they showed up somewhere dressed improperly (Though she was also somewhat surprised that she hadn't as yet blotted the memory from her mind). While the gown wasn't the most chic, it was a classic cut that never went completely out of style.

When she came back out, feeling less panicked, she saw a momentary look of disappointment flash across Blaise's face. 'That bastard did it on purpose!' Flora fumed. Not that she had found him pleasantly debonair before, with a certain roguish charm… but he was an utter cad! "Shall we go in?" she forced a smile. 'He's nothing like Harry!' Harry being the standard against which she measured all other men.

The ballroom was about half full of a veritable who's who in Wizarding politics – both politicians and affluent businessmen who helped 'support' them. 'Most of the ministry is here!' "So, you're a close, personal friend of Yaxley, and you're invited to small, private parties at his house?" Flora asked scornfully.

"But of course. This IS a small private party by Mr. Yaxley's standards." Blaise replied disingenuously.

"Hmph." Flora gave a small snort as she turned to take a little deep fried pastry thing from a proffered tray, nodding politely to the waiter as she did. But she allowed Zambini to steer her through the crowd, introducing her to people whose names were often in the news.

If he was trying to impress her, it wasn't working.

As she smiled at yet another 'friend' of Mr Yaxley, she considered, 'This isn't too bad.' It helped that she didn't care what any of these people thought of her. She could vomit all over, say, that woman with the toxic cloud of perfume that Blaise was making a big deal over, and it would affect her life not at all – she was so far below her that the 'Respected Pureblooded' lady would just treat her as an anonymous annoyance. It was quite liberating.

She turned towards where Mr. Yaxley was holding forth to a small circle of his admirers – middle aged men dressed in business suits or robes that were worth more than many people earned in a month. When Blaise tried to pull her away to greet yet another one of his acquaintances, she waved him off.

Blaise frowned, but he went off on his own, leaving Flora to listen in. Nobody in this group deigned to notice here - she was a nobody – but they didn't do anything else to exclude her.

As the evening wore on, Flora learned more than she ever wanted to know about importing (probably looted) antiques from third world countries. It was at nine o'clock when Yaxley excused himself and went to join the Minister of Magic on a small dais at the front of the room.

"May I have your attention please," he called out, putting a hand on Thicknesse's shoulder. "I would like to propose a toast in honor of our great Minister of Magic, and to to another 4 years of the best government that money can buy!" There was polite laughter.

At that moment, waiters spread through out the room, handing everybody a goblet of a thick blue liquor. As soon as she took it, Flora felt a desire to quaff it – it smelled so good! But she had been avoiding alcohol all evening - the calming potion she had taken didn't mix well with alcohol. She smiled apologetically at the server that had brought her the drink and tried to return it to the tray. Except her hand wouldn't move that way.

"Drink up, everyone," Yaxley called out, "This is a rare liquor that I imported from Haiti – you're never going to experience the like again!" Everybody followed the instruction, some more hesitantly than others, but soon everybody had drained their liquor. Flora struggled to keep the goblet away from her face. With an effort, she managed to pull her wand out with her other hand and vanish the blue liquid (most witches couldn't cast with their off-hand, but Harry had drilled her on it when he was learning it at the Auror Academy).

As she looked around to see if anybody had noticed her struggle, she realized that all of the attendees were standing stock still, watching Yaxley. "Very good, my little sheep!" He laughed. "Now BAA for me!"

An older woman in a low cut ball gown gave a passable rendition of a bleat. She was followed moments later by the rest of the room. Flora belatedly joined in, sweating nervously. The blue liquid must have been the Zombie Dust that Harry was investigating! Except it was a full goblet, not just a few drops in glass of wine!

"Yes!" Yaxley pranced across the front of the room, acting completely differently than the staid businessman of a few minutes ago. "I am now free! With you, my faithful, by my side I can finally reveal myself to the world!" He waved his wand canceling his disillusionment charm to reveal that he was wearing a woman's diadem. And nothing else. "I am Lord Voldemort! I am lord of all of Wizarding England! You will all bow before me!" As his enthralled audience did so, Yaxley gave a chortle and danced back up onto the stage, not at all bothered that he was completely naked. "Sit down fatty!" He commanded Thicknesse.

"Now, stand and salute your new lord!" Yaxley struck a pose as his audience followed his instruction.

As Yaxley amused himself with his new thralls, Flora stepped up to a serving table covered in a floor length table cloth and jabbed her wand through a gap, so that she could cast a Patronus beneath it. Fortunately her Patronus was small – a moment later, a glowing mongoose scampered for freedom.

/\/\MLC/\/\

Harry was half asleep when Flora's glowing mongoose raced up the couch and whispered 'Save me' into his ear.

He started awake – he had fallen asleep reviewing case files, with the papers strewn over his chest and spilling down to the floor. He glanced at the Patronus. "What.." he looked questioningly at the glowing mongoose. It sat silent before dissipating into a cloud of motes of light, its message delivered. His sleep addled brain gave him the answer – Flora needed help. "Where..." Right! He raced for the back bedroom – the one he used as his office – and pulled out the drawer containing the compass that Flora had given him as a Christmas present their first year together. It worked like the one she had used to track him when they were in school, except this one was spelled to point to her time-telling bracelet (she didn't like muggle wristwatches). With that in hand, he grabbed his broom and raced up to the apartment building roof.

A moment later, he raced back back down and tore a map of England out of one of his Auror text book. 'I have to do this smart – I can't just go racing off half cocked.' He then took a reading with his compass – it was pointing almost due south – and drew it onto the map before flooing to the Ministry.

He took another reading – it was still south, but also a little west. Harry swore. The two lines were too close together to let him triangulate – he wasn't that good with maps. He next Apparated to Shell cottage, out in Cornwall. That gave him a reading almost due east. He carefully traced it onto the map and examined where they intersected.

Now he had a place to start.

He Apparated to Winchester Abbey (not the abbey itself, but the small magical community that was two blocks down) and swooped into the air on his broom, following the compass.

'This is taking too long!'

He had been flying for 5 minutes, but the compass was still pointing in the same direction. Harry cast 'Ascendio" and lifted off of the broom, which he shrank and pocketed.

He then looked as far as he could see in the direction he was flying and Apparated there. A quick glance at his compass showed him he had to go further, so he repeated the procedure again, and again. The danger of splinching from repeat Apparitions was not negligible, especially when he was already distracted by maintaining the Ascendio spell, but Flora would never ask for help unless the situation was dire.

Finally, ten minutes later, his compass veered back the way he had come – he had overshot the location!

Harry swooped down, not bothering to switch back to his broom.

His target was a huge mansion that stood on 10 acres of manicured grounds – definitely the sort of place that Yaxley would live.

He checked – yes it was warded, and heavily. He wasn't certain if he could get through the wards, but he certainly couldn't do it without alerting everybody inside. He was still debating his options when a fountain of light exploded from inside the east wing of the mansion.

/\/\MLC/\/\

"Hey, you! Slave.." Yaxley called out, and then realized that he would need to be more specific, as everybody in the ball room turned to look at him. "Slave in the frumpy old dress, why are you walking away?"

Flora stopped. She had been carefully sidling towards the corridor that she had arrived through. She waited, hoping that somebody else would respond. When nobody did, she said, "I need to go to the bathroom."

"I didn't give you permission.." Yaxley began, before realizing that the consequences of his petty power trip would be a puddle on his (expensive) black mahogany floor. "Fine, go."

Flora scurried to the bathroom and searched for a way out – there were no windows, and she knew that the house was warded like Gringotts, so apparition was out – she couldn't force her way past without splinching. Not for the first time, Flora wished that she was an animagus. Well, nothing to be done about that. 'The front door it is.' Flora listened at the bathroom door, hoping to be able to tell if any of Yaxley's thralls were close by. She could hear his voice faintly, still monologuing (and probably dancing naked in accompaniment. She shuddered in disgust).

But the moment she pushed the door open, Yaxley paused. "Return to me, my slave!"

Instead, Flora ran.

There was a moment as the (badly damaged) shard of Voldemort processed what was happening before… "Get her!" Yaxley screamed. "Don't let her escape!"

The mind controlled ministry workers staggered after her. They were still acclimating to the Zombie Powder, and Yaxely has spent the past few minutes encouraging mindless obedience, so they were slow to respond. Instead of using spells, they first gave chase, following Flora through several rooms before the first thought to cast an Incarcerous spell. The ropes went wide as Flora turned for a side corridor.

Flora threw herself behind a leather upholster reclined in what was the third of Merlin knows how many 'sitting' rooms that she had raced through. She was pretty certain she had missed the turn off for the front door – there were no signs!

As soon as she landed, a pair of spells impacted on the sofa, one burning a hole into the leather and filling the air with a stench. Thank Merlin all of the furniture here was heavy and ponderous. Flora animated an end table and sent it galloping down the corridor.

More spells hit the recliner, which Flora reinforced before returning fire. The end table was now jammed, blocking the corridor and slowing the thralls. As the first row tried to step over the table, they were pushed down by those behind them, creating a bottle neck. Each thrall was desperate to be the first to carry out Yaxley's command, to the point that they were actively interfering with each other. But nevertheless, it was a matter of time before a sightly more intelligent slave forced his way through. Flora cast an overpowered Reducto at the ceiling, hoping to block the corridor, but the spell just bounced. 'Seriously? How paranoid do you have to be to ward the inside walls of your house?'

When Flora returned her attention back to the thralls, she saw Blaise had forced his way through. She just managed to throw herself out of the way before he levitated the recliner up. She retaliated with a stunner, but he shielded and retaliated with an Incarcerous curse. 'Oh, good, he's not trying to kill me!' Flora wasn't certain if that was due to Yaxley's command, or maybe he just didn't view her as a threat. Or just possibly he felt some residual affection for her.

"Sectumsempra." Whatever the case, it wasn't a sentiment shared by Flora. She had temporarily forgotten, but Blaise had always been a bastard, and she didn't really care if he was supporting Yaxley of his own free will or if he was mind controlled. Blaise managed to mostly duck out of the way of the fast moving curse, but it caught his shoulder, making him drop his wand. Before Flora could finish him off, she realized that two more thralls had joined Blaise – the older woman who had reeked of perfume (and didn't seem certain what to do with her wand) and a middle aged man who's first spell was so under powered that Flora easily batted it away.

But as she did, several more people manged to push through the crowd to join them, and Blaise attempted to physically tackle her. Flora danced out of his path, banishing him towards the mob, following up with another spell to send the remaining furniture in the room sliding into a pile in front of them as well. She tried to think of what to do - she didn't want to use any lethal spells, as most of the Zombies were just as much victims as she was. As the mound of furniture shuddered and collapsed back into the room, she gathered her concentration and summoned Fiendfyre. A fyrebird burst from her wand and flew at the crowd of attackers. Even while under the control of the Zombie Powder, the ominous screaming flame cowed the thralls. As they cowered away from it, the Fiendfyre swooped up and burst through the ceiling, burning a hole straight up. The only thing that the overwhelmed wards were able to do was to prevent the fire from spreading past the point of impact.

"I don't know how you managed to overcome my Zombie Dust, little girl," Yaxley pronounced as he Apparated past the cowering mob to strut towards Flora, "But you are no mach for Lord Voldemort!"

He opened fire with a barrage of spells – a pair of cutting curses, a bludgeoner and a sickly blue curse that Flora didn't recognize. She shielded against the first ones, and dodged the others, but Yaxley was casting fast, and his spells had enough power so she had to concentrate to deflect them. 'This is not good.' Flora was a talented witch, and she had trained more than some Aurors, but she was nowhere near in this league. The spells were raining down so fast that she couldn't even tell what most of them were.

"And now, you die! Avada Ke.." And that was when Yaxley went flying ass over teakettle as a massive area effect banisher slammed into him and the thralls, sending them to the far ends of the room. Several were knocked unconscious by the impact, but Yaxley quickly rolled to his feet, to see Harry Potter descending through the hole in the roof like a vengeful god, a salvo of spells leaving his wand.

"Attack him! Attack!" Shrilled Yaxley as he desperately blocked the spells.

As more of the thralls surged forward, crawling over the end table that was still blocking their way, Flora stupefied them one after another. Most were impaired by the Zombie Dust, so they weren't able to come up with creative ways to implement their commands, but a few were bright enough to Apparate in, forcing Flora to switch to dueling on multiple fronts.

Harry pressed the attack on Yaxley. Voldemort's puppet held his own, but now he was the one who was on the defensive – Yaxley lacked the raw power that Voldemort was accustomed to, and Harry easily matched his casting speed and creativity. His only advantage was that several zombies managed to evade Flora, forcing Harry to incapacitate them (including an elderly dowager attempting to bludgeon him with her pocketbook). He used non-lethal spells on them as it was clear that they were not acting of their own volition.

'If this keeps up, somebody is going to get hurt,' As he pressed his offense, Harry used his off hand to wandlessly banish a broken chair leg at the possessed man. The unexpected attack skewered him through the stomach, pinning him to the wall .

"Call them off or I blast off your manhood, little man." Harry Pointed his wand at Yaxley's privates.

Yaxley coughed, "I don't know who you are, but join me, and we can rule together."

"As father and son?" Harry quoted Darth Vader.

"What?"

"Harry, the Diadem is a Horcrux!" Flora yelled s she fended of a pair of thralls.

Harry raised his wand to point at the piece of jewelry. "Call of your thralls or I melt you into a pile of slag."

"Halt!" Yaxley called weakly. He glanced down, as if realizing for the first time the extent of his injuries "Help.. Help me?"

Harry risked a quick glance at Flora. "Are you ok?"

"Yes, just tired," she came over. "Do you want me to heal him?"

"No. Just seal up the wounds so he won't bleed out."

Harry turned to Yaxley, "If you so much as squirm, your injury will reopen and you will die. Here drink this."

Yaxley did so without hesitation, assuming it was a healing potion. Despite everything, he did not want to die here. Harry waited for the count of three for the Veritaserum to start working.

Harry took a deep breath. "This is Junior Auror Potter making a Pensive quality deposition," he quoted the time, date and address before turning to Yaxley, "Please state your name and age."

"I am Lord Voldemort. I am," there was a pause, "I am thirty five years old."

"But that is not your original body." Harry added by way of clarification.

"No.. No.. it used to belong to Peter Yaxley. Apparently he was a follower of mine, but I have no memory of him. My memories.."

"And what was the purpose of tonight's event?" Harry interrupted before he could ramble. He didn't want it to be obvious that Yaxley was under the influence of the truth potion – technically, what he was doing was illegal, as an Auror required a court order to administer Veritaserum. But Harry was never been good at following rules. Especially when most of the people making those rules had just tried to murder his girlfriend under Voldemort's command.

"To.. To take over the Ministry."

"And who are your accomplices?"

"Nobody!" Bragged Yaxley, "I did it all by myself!" He starred coughing again as the sudden motion shifted the shaft of wood holding him to the wall, "Because Pius Thicknesse made it so, so easy!"

"You better rest until the healers get here. Stupefy."

"This is junior Auror Potter, ending deposition."

"Ok, we need to get some serious back up here. Are any.." he turned to Flora, only to find her already tending to the injured thralls.

"Right. I'll call the Aurors." He sent off a Patronus to the Auror emergency desk and another to St. Mungo's.

/\/\MLC/\/\

"Oh, my aching head!" Harry lay down on the couch. Flora sat down next to him and sckootched so that his head would be resting on her lap.

"You had a busy week, toppling a government."

"Yeah. Who would think the Daily Prophet would actually do something useful for once?" When the news broke that Minister Thickness was best buddies with a revenant Voldemort, his political career sank faster than a lead balloon. And he took half the ministry down by contagion. Somehow, the Daily Prophet had managed to make Yaxley's experiment in mind control sound voluntary, and anybody who had been present at the ill-fated fête was all of a sudden finding themselves on thin ice.

And many of them had political enemies who gleefully took the opportunity to get them removed from office. Harry himself had pressured chief Roberts to step down and appoint Shacklebolt as his replacement, on the excuse that he needed to avoid any public scrutiny of his connections to Yaxley.

Oh, and all of a sudden Harry was the department golden boy, in line for promotion to Senior Auror.

"Are you ok? I haven't been home much, dealing with the aftermath, and I know that it was pretty stressful for you."

Flora shrugged. She had stunned, bludgeoned and beat up half the sitting magical government of Great Britain. And they had given her an award for it. It had been surprisingly therapeutic. "I'm fine," she smiled.

And what's more, Harry had raced to her rescue. While she realized that this was not a rational way of measuring affection, she would freely admit that she wasn't always the most rational of women, and it had warmed her heart. And then the healers from St. Mungos had offered her a position as a mediwitch intern when they saw her work in the aftermath.

She had had the best week ever. The only thing that would make it better… "Let's get married."

Flora started - "What about my family..."

"I can find some way to tolerate them, if I have to."

"Then, yes. I want it! Very much!" She pulled Harry into a fierce embrace. Harry was far more important than her so-called family. If they couldn't behave themselves, she would blast them into the last century herself.

END

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In the end, it was a very small wedding.