Disclaimer: I am not George Lucas or J.K. Rowling.

Enter Ron and Dean, in Norfolk.

Ron and Dean step inside a nearby pub.

Dean. I think I see the bar up there, just back of the Exploding Snap tables to the left. That's probably where he wants us.

Ron. You ever been here before?

Ron and Dean head toward the bar.

Dean. Not this place, no. Last time I was at Norfolk was years ago. It was worse than Diagon Alley, and I didn't stay long. [shakes his head] Whatever problems you might have with the new government here, you have to admit they have done a good job of cleaning the region up.

Ron. Yeah, well, whatever problems you have with the new government, let's keep them quiet, okay? Just for once, I'd like to keep a low profile.

Dean. [laughs] Whatever you say.

Enter Daisy Dodderidge.

Daisy. Good day, gentles. How may I serve?

Dean. Do you have any elf-made wine?

Daisy. We do, indeed: '47, '49, '50, and '52.

Dean. We'll have a half carafe of the '49.

Daisy. Thank you, gentles.

Exit Daisy.

Ron. Was that part of the countersign?

Dean. Actually, he didn't say anything about what we should order. But since I happen to like a good elf-made wine . . .

Ron. And since London will be picking up the tab for it?

Dean. Something like that.

Enter Daisy, serving Ron and Dean glasses of elf-made wine.

Daisy. Will there be anything else, gentles?

Dean. [shakes his head] Not right now, thank you.

Daisy. Thank you.

Exit Daisy.

Dean. So . . . I guess we wait.

Ron. Well, while you're busy waiting, do a casual one-eighty. Third Exploding Snap table back - five men and a woman. Tell me if the guy second from the right is who I think it is.

Dean glances over at the aforementioned table, where he sees Zeph Salvage sitting among four men and a woman.

Dean. Not Zeph Salvage?

Ron. Sure looks like him to me. I figured you'd probably seen him more recently than I have.

Dean. Not since the last Azkaban Run you and I did together . . . just before that other big Exploding Snap table.

Ron. You're not still sore about the Anglia, are you?

Dean. Now . . . No, probably not. No sorer than I was at losing the game to an amateur like you in the first place.

Ron. Amateur?

Dean. But I'll admit there were times right afterward when I lay awake at night plotting elaborate revenge. Good thing I never got around to doing any of it.

Ron. If it makes you feel any better . . . if you hadn't lost the Anglia to me, we probably wouldn't be sitting here right now. The Ministry's first Dark Mark would have taken out Hogwarts and then picked the DA apart region by region. And that would have been the end of it.

Dean. [shrugs] Maybe. Maybe not. With people like Murcus and Hermione running things . . .

Ron. Hermione would have been dead. She was already slated for execution when Harry, Hagrid, and I pulled her out of the Dark Mark. [shivers] I was that close to losing her, and I never would have known what I'd missed. [aside] And now that I know . . . I might still lose her.

Dean. She'll be okay, Ron. Don't worry. I just wish we knew what the Ministry wanted with her.

Ron. I know what they want. They want the twins.

Dean. Are you sure?

Ron. As sure as I am of any of this. Why else didn't they just use stun weapons on us in that Avalon ambush? Because the things have a better than fifty-fifty chance of sparking a miscarriage.

Dean. Sounds reasonable. Does Hermione know?

Ron. I don't know. Probably.

As Ron glances at impatiently at Salvage, he notices three security officers stationed nearby.

Uh-oh.

Dean. What?

Dean glances over and notices the security officers.

Uh-oh indeed. Offhand, I'd say that explains why Salvage's hiding at a Exploding Snap table.

Ron. And doing his best to ignore us. [to Daisy] Attendant?

Enter Daisy.

Daisy. Yes, gentles?

Ron. Give me twenty Exploding Snap chips, will you?

Daisy. Certainly.

Exit Daisy.

Ron drains his glass of elf-made wine.

Dean. Wait a minute. You're not going to go over there, are you?

Ron. You got a better idea? If he's our contact, I sure don't want to lose him now.

Dean. [sighs] So much for keeping a low profile. What do you want me to do?

Ron. Be ready to run some interference.

The Exploding Snap chips appear.

So far it looks like they're just watching him. Maybe we can get him out of here before their pals arrive in force.

Dean. If not?

Ron collects the chips and gets to his feet.

Ron. Then I'll try to create a diversion and meet you back at the Anglia.

Dean. Right. Good luck.

Ron sits across from Salvage.

Ron. Deal me in.

Salvage and the others glance up at him.

[to Salvage] You the dealer, sonny? Come on. Deal me in.

Salvage. Ah, no. It's not my deal.

Salvage glances at the dealer.

First Man. And we've already started. Wait until the next game.

Ron. What? You haven't all even bet yet. Come on. Give me my cards.

Ron tosses his chips into the pot; the dealer sighs and passes him cards.

That's more like it. Brings back memories, this does. I used to drop the heavy end of the hammer on the guys back home all the time.

Salvage. Did you, now? Well, you're playing with the big boys here, not the little people. You may not find the sort of rewards you're used to.

Ron. I'm not exactly an amateur myself. I've won, oh, probably sixty-three games in the last month alone.

Salvage's expression reveals what Ron believes: that sixty-three is the number of his landing bay.

Salvage. Lot of rewards in numbers like that. You willing to put your money where your mouth is?

Ron. I'll meet anything you've got.

Salvage. I may just take you up on it.

Second Man. This is all very interesting, I'm sure. Some of us would like to play cards, though.

Salvage raises his eyebrows at Ron.

Salvage. The bet's at four.

Ron. Sure. I'll see the four, and raise you two.

Enter the Bloody Baron.

Baron. Cheater.

The Baron snatches Ron's cards.

You are a cheater, sir.

Ron. I don't know what you're talking about.

Baron. [angry] You know full well what I'm talking about. This card is a Detachable Cribbing Cuff.

Ron. It is not.

Per the Baron's intentions, a crowd of onlookers - including the security officers - are distracted by this confrontation.

It's the same card I was dealt.

Baron. Oh, is it?

The Baron taps the corner of the card; instantly its value changes.

Ron. That's the card I was dealt. If it's a Detachable Cribbing Cuff, it's not my fault.

Enter Bob and Basil, the security officers.

Bob. Keep your hands on the table. [to the Baron] Move aside, Baron. We'll handle this.

Ron frowns at the Baron.

Ron. Baron, huh?

Bob. Hands on the table, I said.

Bob examines the Detachable Cribbing Cuff.

Cute card, con.

Baron. He must have palmed the card he was dealt. Where is it, cheater?

Ron. The card I was dealt is right there in your friend's hand. I don't need to cheat to win at Exploding Snap. If I had one, it's because it was dealt to me.

Baron. Oh, really?

The Baron turns on First Man.

Your cards, sir, if you don't mind.

First Man. What are you talking about? Why would I give someone else a Detachable Cribbing Cuff? Anyway, it's a house deck, see?

Baron. Well, there's one way to be sure, isn't there? And then you and you can be scanned to see who's hiding an extra card. I dare say that would settle the issue, wouldn't you, Bob?

Bob. Don't tell us our job, Baron. [to Basil] Basil. Get that Probity Probe over here, will you?

Basil removes a Probity Probe.

Bob indicates Ron.

That one first.

Basil. Right.

Basil probes Ron.

Nothing.

Bob. [uncertain] Try it again.

Basil probes Ron.

Basil. Still nothing. He's got a rifle, transmitter, and ID, and that's it.

Bob turns on First Man.

First Man. I protest. I'm a Class Double-A citizen. You have no right to put me through this sort of totally unfounded accusation.

Bob. You do it here or down at the station. Your choice.

First Man glares at Ron, then is probed by Basil.

Basil. He's clean, too.

Bob. Scan around the floor. See if someone ditched it.

Baron. And count the cards still in the deck.

Bob turns on the Baron.

Bob. For the last time . . .

Baron. Because if all we have here are the requisite seventy-six cards, perhaps what we're really looking at is a fixed deck.

Bob. We don't fix decks in here.

Baron. No? Not even when special people are sitting in on the game? People who might know to look for a special card when it comes up?

Bob. That's ridiculous. This pub is a respectable and perfectly legal establishment. None of these players has any connection with . . .

In the chaos, Salvage has vanished.

First Man. Hey. The guy who was sitting next to me . . . Where did he go?

Baron. [snorts] So . . . none of them has any connection with you, do they?

Bob turns on Ron.

Bob. You want to tell me your partner's name?

Ron. He wasn't my partner. And I was not cheating. You want to make a formal accusation, take me down to the station and do it there. If you don't, then I'm leaving.

Bob. [sighs] Sure. Get out of here. Don't ever come back.

Ron. Don't worry.

Upon leaving the pub, Ron discovers Dean back at the Ford Anglia.

Dean. That was quick. I wasn't expecting them to turn you loose for at least an hour.

Ron. They didn't have much of a case. I hope Salvage didn't give you the slip.

Dean. [shakes his head] He's waiting in the lounge . . . and considers himself in our debt.

Ron. That could be useful.

Ron and Dean board the Ford Anglia, where Salvage is seated at the wizard's chess table.

Good to see you again, Salvage.

Salvage. You, too, Weasley. I've thanked Thomas already. But I wanted to thank you, too . . . both for the warning and for helping me get out of there. I'm in your debt.

Ron. No problem. I take it that is your broom in pit sixty-three?

Salvage. My employer's broom, yes. Fortunately, there's nothing contraband in it at the moment. I've already off-loaded. They obviously suspect me, though.

Dean. What kind of contraband were you running? If it's not a secret, that is?

Salvage. [raises an eyebrow] No secret, but you're not going to believe it. I was running food.

Dean. You're right. I don't believe it.

Salvage. I didn't either at first. It seems there's a clan of people living off in the southern hills who don't find much about the new government to appreciate.

Dean. Rebels?

Salvage. No, and that's what's strange about it. They're not rebelling or making trouble or even sitting on vital resources. They're simple people, and all they want is to be left alone to continue living that way. The government's apparently decided to make an example of them and among other things has cut off all food and medical supplies going that way until they agree to fall into step like everyone else.

Dean. That sounds like this government. Not much into regional autonomy of any kind.

Salvage. Hence, we smuggle in food. Crazy business. Anyway, it's nice to see you two again. Nice to see you're still working together, too. So many teams have broken up over the past few years, especially since Golgomath bought the really heavy end of the hammer.

Ron glances at Dean.

Ron. Well, it's actually more like we're back together. We sort of wound up on the same side during the war. Up until then . . .

Dean. Up until then I wanted to kill him. No big deal, really.

Salvage. Sure. Let me guess: the Anglia, right? I remember hearing rumors that you stole it.

Ron. Stole it?

Dean. Like I said, I was mad. [to Salvage] It wasn't an out-and-out theft, actually, though it came pretty close. I had a little semi-legit clearing house for used brooms at the time, and I ran short of money in an Exploding Snap game Ron and I were playing. I offered him his pick of any of my ships if he won. [glares at Ron] He was supposed to go for one of the flashy chrome-plate yachts that had been collecting dust on the front row, not the car I'd been quietly upgrading on the side for myself.

Ron. You did a good job, too. Though Hagrid and I wound up pulling a lot of the stuff out and redoing it ourselves.

Dean. Nice. Another crack like that and I may just take it back.

Ron. Hagrid would probably take great exception to that. [to Salvage] Of course, you knew all this already, didn't you?

Salvage. [smiles] No offense, Weasley. I like to feel out my customers before we do business, get an idea of whether I can expect them to play straight with me. People who lie about their history usually lie about the job, too.

Ron. I trust we passed?

Salvage. Like babes in the tall grass. So . . . what can Aberforth Dumbledore do for you?

Ron. I want to offer Aberforth a deal: the chance to work directly with the Wizards' Council.

Salvage. I'd heard that you were going around trying to push that scheme with other smuggling groups. The general feeling is that you're trying to set them up for Murcus to take down.

Ron. I'm not. Murcus is not exactly thrilled at the idea, but he's accepted it. We need to get more shipping capacity from somewhere, and smugglers are the logical supply to tap.

Salvage. From what I've heard, it sounds like an interesting offer. 'Course, I'm not the one who makes decisions like that.

Dean. So take us to Aberforth. Let Ron talk to him directly.

Salvage. [shakes his head] Sorry, but he's at the main base at the moment. I can't take you there.

Dean. Why not?

Salvage. Because we don't let strangers just flit in and out. We don't have anything like the kind of massive, overbearing security Golgomath had in Surrey, for starters.

Dean. We're not exactly . . .

Ron. All right, then. How are you going to get back there?

Salvage. [frowns] I guess I'll have to figure out a way to get my ship out of impoundment, won't I?

Ron. That'll take time. Besides which, you're known here. On the other hand, someone who showed up with the proper credentials could probably pry it loose before anyone knew what had happened.

Salvage. [raises an eyebrow] You, for instance?

Ron. [shrugs] I might be able to. After that thing at the pub, I probably should lie low, too. But I'm sure I could set it up.

Salvage. I'm sure. And the catch . . . ?

Ron. No catch. All I want in return is for you to let us give you a lift back to your base and then have fifteen minutes to talk with Aberforth.

Salvage. [hesitates] I'll get in trouble if I do this. You know that.

Dean. We're not exactly random strangers. Aberforth met me once. And both Ron and I kept major military secrets for the Army for years. We've got a good record of people being able to trust us.

Salvage. [sighs] I'll get in trouble. But I guess I really do owe you. One condition, though: I do all the navigation on the way in and set it up in a coded, erasable module. Whether you have to do the same thing on the way out will be up to Aberforth.

Ron. Good enough. When can we leave?

Salvage. As soon as you're ready. Unless you want to go back to the pub and play those.

Salvage indicates Ron's Exploding Snap cards.

Ron. Forget it. I try not to play Exploding Snap when there are fanatics breathing down my neck.

Salvage. Yes, the Baron put on a good show, didn't he? I don't know what we would have done without him.

Dean. Wait a minute. You know him?

Salvage. Sure. He's my contact with the hill clan. He couldn't have made nearly so much fuss without a stranger like you there for him to pick on, though.

Ron. Why, that rotten . . . I suppose that was his Detachable Cribbing Cuff, huh?

Salvage. Sure was. [at Ron's expression] What are you complaining about? You got what you wanted. I'm taking you to see Aberforth. Right?

Ron. Right. So much for heroics, I guess.

Salvage. [snorts] Tell me about it. Come on. Let's get into your computer and start coding up a nav module.

Exit all.