Disclaimer: I am not J.K. Rowling or Timothy Zahn.

The Ford Anglia approaches the region of Cornwall, pursued by security brooms.

Ron. No, I don't have a transit permit for Cornwall. I also don't have any accounts here. I'm trying to reach Dean Thomas.

Hermione stifles a laugh.

You say something?

Hermione. No. Just remembering the past.

Ron. Right. [to Fifth Officer] Look, just give Dean a call, will you? Tell him that an old friend is here and thought we might play a hand of Exploding Snap for my choice of his stock. Dean will understand.

Hermione. We want to what?

Ron mutes the transmitter.

Ron. The Ministry might have spies here, too. If they do, announcing our names to the whole South West region wouldn't be very smart.

Hermione. Point. That's a pretty strange message, though.

Ron. Not to Dean. He'll know it's me, provided that middle-level button pusher out there loosens up and sends it in.

Hagrid. Something big is approaching from aft-starboard.

Ron. Any make on it?

Fifth Officer's Voice. Unidentified car, General Thomas has authorized a special transit waiver for you. Your escort is moving to intercept. Hold your current position until he arrives.

Ron. Acknowledged.

Hermione. Escort? Why an escort?

Ron. That's what you get for going off and doing politics stuff when Dean drops by Headquarters for a visit. Cornwall a superhot region, way too close to its sun for any normal car to get to without getting part of its hull peeled off. Hence the escort.

An armored broomship arrives to escort the Anglia in.

Hermione. Merlin's beard. And it actually flies?

Ron. Yeah, but not easily. Dean told me they had all sorts of trouble getting the things designed properly in the first place, and almost as much trouble teaching people how to fly them.

Hermione. I believe it.

Broomship Nine. Unidentified ship, this is Broomship Nine. Ready to lock. Please transmit your slave circuit code.

Ron. Right. [to Broomship Nine] Broomship Nine, we don't have a slave circuit. Just give me your course and we'll stay with you.

Broomship Nine. Very well, unidentified car. Set your course at two-eight-four; speed, point six sublight.

The broomship moves off.

Ron. Stay with him, Hagrid. [to Broomship Nine] Broomship Nine, what's our ETA for Cornwall?

Broomship Nine. You in a hurry, unidentified ship?

Ron. [sarcastic] How could we be in a hurry, with this wonderful view? Yeah, we're in kind of a hurry.

Broomship Nine. Sorry to hear that. You see, if you had a slave circuit, we could do a quick Apparition hop inward together and be at Cornwall in maybe an hour. Doing it this way . . . well, it will take us about ten.

Ron. [grimaces] Great.

Hermione. We could probably set up a temporary slave circuit. Percy knows the Anglia's computer well enough to do that.

Hagrid. [growls] Never.

Ron. Hagrid's right. We don't slave this car to anything, ever. You copy that, broomship?

Broomship Nine. Okay by me, unidentified car. I get paid by the hour anyway.

Ron. Fine. Let's get to it.

Broomship Nine. Sure.

Ron. Hagrid. Has he got his engines off standby yet?

Hagrid. No.

Hermione. What's wrong?

Ron. I don't know. I don't like it, though. [to Broomship Nine] Broomship Nine, what's the holdup?

Broomship Nine. Not to worry, unidentified car. We've got another craft coming in that also doesn't have a slave circuit, so we're going to take you both in together. No point in tying up two of us, right?

Ron. You have an identification on that other craft?

Broomship Nine. [snorts] Hey, friend, we don't even have an identification on you.

Ron. You're a big help. [to Hagrid] Hagrid. You got an approach yet on this guy?

Hagrid. Rarrgghh.

Ron. Cute. Real cute.

Hermione. I missed that.

Ron. He's coming in from the far side of the broomship's central pylon. Keeping it between him and us where we can't see him.

Hermione. Is he doing it on purpose?

Ron. Probably. Hagrid, take over. I'm going to fire up the quads.

Ron exits the cockpit, passing by Percy.

Percy. Captain Weasley. Is something wrong?

Ron. Probably, Percy. Better strap in.

Ron climbs the ladder and assumes the gunnery seat.

Anything yet, Hagrid?

Hagrid. No. The approaching craft is still completely hidden by the broomship's pylon. But the inference scope is now giving a distance reading. And from that, I am able to compute an upper size limit for the craft. It's not very big.

Ron. Well, that's something. Stay sharp. This might be a decoy.

The unidentified craft comes around the pylon, revealing itself to be a Firebolt, one piloted by Harry Potter.

Hermione. It's a Firebolt, with Council markings . . .

Harry. Hello, strangers. Good to see you.

Ron. Hello. What are you doing here?

Harry. I came to see Dean. Sorry if I startled you. When they told me I'd be going in with an unidentified car, I thought it might be a trap. I wasn't completely sure it was you until a minute ago.

Ron. Ah. So . . . This just a social call or what?

Harry. Not really. I found an old gadget that . . . well, I thought Dean might be able to identify it. I don't think we ought to discuss it out in the open like this. How about you?

Ron. I don't think we should talk about that either. [aside, to Hermione] Hermione, can you tell whether or not that's really Harry out there?

Hermione. I think so. I'm almost positive it is.

Ron. Almost positive won't cut it, sweetheart.

Hermione. I know. Hang on. I've got an idea.

Ron tunes back in to Harry.

Harry. . . . said that if I had a slave circuit they could get me in a lot faster. Apparating as close to Cornwall as the gravity well will permit, and then just a few minutes of cover before I'd be in the regional umbra and could go the rest of the way on my own.

Ron. Except that Firebolts don't come equipped with slave circuits?

Harry. Right. Some oversight in the design phase, no doubt.

Ron. No doubt.

Hermione. Actually, I'm glad you don't have one. It feels safer traveling in convoy this way. Oh, before I forget, there's someone here who wants to say hello.

Percy. Hedwig. Are you there?

Hedwig. [beeps]

Percy. Well, I don't know where else you might have been. From past experience, there are a considerable variety of difficulties you could have gotten yourself into. Certainly without me along to smooth things out for you.

Hedwig. [electronic snort]

Percy. Yes, well, you've always believed that. I suppose you're entitled to your delusions.

Ron breathes a sigh of relief, moving back toward the cockpit.

The broomship moves the Ford Anglia and the Firebolt toward Cornwall. After a few hours, they are able to descend toward the atmosphere.

Hermione. What's happening?

Ron We're in Cornwall's shadow. I've got a lock on Dean's mining operation. It looks like we'll be there in ten or fifteen minutes.

Hermione. Okay. Have you talked with Harry lately?

Ron. Not for a couple of hours. He said he was going to try and get some sleep. I think Hedwig's running the broom at the moment.

Hermione. Yes, he is. Harry's not sleeping very well, though. Something's bothering him.

Ron. Something's been bothering him for the past couple of months. He'll get over it.

Hermione. No, this is something different, something more urgent. Parvati thought that maybe he'd be willing to talk to you about it.

Ron. Well, he hasn't yet. Look, don't worry. When he's ready to talk, he'll talk.

Hermione. I suppose so. Incredible. Do you realize you can actually see part of the solar corona from here?

Ron. Yeah, well, don't ask me to take you out for a closer look. Those broomships aren't just for show, you know. The sunlight out there is strong enough to fry every sensor we have in a few seconds and take the Anglia's hull off a couple of minutes later.

Hermione. First Newham, now Cornwall. Have you ever known Dean when he wasn't involved in some kind of crazy scheme?

Ron. Not very often. Though at Newham, at least, he had a known technology to work with. West Ham had been running for years before he got hold of it. This . . . They had to think up pretty much from scratch.

Hermione. I think I see the city. That group of lights over there.

Ron. Too small. More likely it's an outrider group of mole miners. Last I heard he had just over a hundred of the things digging stuff out of the surface.

Hermione. You mean those asteroid brooms we helped him achieve?

Ron. No, he's using those in the outer region for tug work. These are little two-man jobs that look like cones with the points chopped off. They've got a set of plasma-jet drills pointing down around the underside hatch. You just land where you want to drill, fire the jets for a minute or two to chop up the ground, then go on down through the hatch and pick up the pieces.

Hermione. Oh, right, I remember those now. They were originally asteroid miners, too, weren't they?

Ron. The style was. Dean found this particular batch being used in a smelting complex somewhere. Instead of just removing the plasma jets, the owners had hauled the things up whole and wedged them into place on the line.

Hermione. I wonder how Dean got hold of them.

Ron. We probably don't want to know.

Control. Unidentified ships, this is Cornish Control. You've been cleared for landing on platforms five and six. Follow the beacon in, and watch out for the bumps.

Ron. Got it.

The Ford Anglia and the Firebolt descend into Dean's mining colony.

Tell me again about Dean and crazy schemes?

Hermione shakes her head, admiring the area. As they land in Cornwall, the transmitter crackles again.

Dean. Unidentified car. Welcome to Cornwall. What's this about playing a hand of Exploding Snap?

Ron. [smiles] Hello, Dean. We were just talking about you.

Dean. I'll bet. Probably remarking on my business skills and creativity.

Ron. Something like that. Any special trick involved in landing on that thing?

Dean. Not really. We're only going a few kilometers an hour, after all. Is that Harry in the Firebolt?

Harry. Yes, I'm here. This place is amazing, Dean.

Dean. Wait until you see it from the inside. It's about time you people came to visit, I might add. Are Hermione and Hagrid with you?

Hermione. We're all here.

Ron. It's not exactly a social call. We need a little help.

Dean. Well, sure. Anything I can do. Look, I'm in Project Central at the moment, supervising a difficult dig. I'll have someone meet you on the landing platform and bring you down here. Don't forget there's no air here. Make sure you wait for the docking tube to connect before you try popping the hatch.

Ron. Right. Make sure your reception committee is someone you can trust.

Dean. Oh? Is there something . . . ?

An electronic squeal sounds from the transmitter.

Hermione. What's that?

Ron. Someone's jamming us. [over the intercom] Hagrid. We've got trouble. Get up here.

Hagrid. Raarrghh.

Ron. Get us a scan of the area. See if there's anything coming in.

Hermione. Right. What are you going to do?

Ron. I'm going to find us a clear frequency.

Ron pulls the Anglia out of its approach vector, then turns the transmitter back on, keeping the volume low. Abruptly, the squealing stops, and Dean's voice comes through.

Dean. . . . peating: any ships who can read me, please check in.

Ron. Dean. It's me. What's going on?

Dean. I'm not sure. It could be just a solar flare scrambling our communications. That happens sometimes. But the pattern here doesn't seem quite right for . . .

Ron. What?

Dean. Ministry cruiser. Coming in fast toward the regional shadow.

Ron and Hermione exchange looks.

Hermione. They've found us.