20. Forward thinking

As he passed deeper into the catacombs Harry quickened his pace. He was more and more conscious of the passing of time, particularly as he had no notion of what time of day it was, or even what day it was. He had sent Henoc, Caius and Ilaria to look for the way out, with a vague plan to meet at the first place outside that offered any kind of shelter.

After heading steadily downwards for about a hundred metres, the tunnel suddenly turned upwards.

Hearing footsteps ahead, he stopped dead and pressed his back to the wall. The footsteps seemed to approach from round a bend in the tunnel, then stopped. He listened, thinking he could make out a man's breathing. He inched forward down the tunnel until he reached the point where it bent round to the right, then leaned around the corner. Through the gloom he could make out the figure of the witchfinder. He was standing before a door, apparently looking in at a prisoner within. Through the dim light Harry could see his face in profile. The witchfinder was smiling, his eyes moving rapidly in their sockets, presumably sizing up the prisoner. It must be Hermione in there. He had seen how he looked at her. He drew out his wand and stepped into sight.

'Get away from her now,' he said coolly.

The witchfinder looked away from the grate and contemplated Harry with insouciance.

'Why don't you curse me with my back turned, like the coward you undoubtedly are,' he sneered. Then he returned his gaze to the door.

Harry raised his wand but remembered that its power was greatly lessened there.

'Enjoying yourself, are you?' he exclaimed.

The witchfinder looked around again. Noting that Harry had lowered his wand, he turned from the door and came towards him in the tunnel.

'Not particularly,' came the reply. 'I don't approve of the conditions in this prison. The cells are too comfortable. And by the looks of it, the security is rather lax. I'm afraid standards on the continent aren't what they are back home.'

Harry looked at him in silence.

'How did you get out of your cell, by the way?' the witchfinder continued. 'But I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, as you are the most illustrious wizard in Britain. Mr Bouquett has, I fear, underestimated you.'

'I'm not underestimating you,' Harry replied. 'You seem like a really nasty piece of work.'

The witchfinder smiled.

'That's as may be,' he replied, 'but it won't do you much good. You've realised that you'll have to do without magic down here, I take it.'

'Magic or no magic,' Harry replied. 'You're going to get out of my way.'

'How touching,' said the witchfinder. 'You've actually come to rescue your little friend. You look after your own, I'll give you that.'

'What is your problem?' Harry exclaimed. 'With wizards, I mean. I'm genuinely curious.'

'You're my problem,' he replied. 'You're the one who defeated Voldemort.'

'Voldemort?' said Harry. 'How can you be sorry that Voldemort didn't win? Have you any idea what he would have done to the likes of you?'

'Oh, he was a monster, certainly. But his victory would have made the concealment of the wizarding world impossible. And we would have come down very hard on Voldemort. As it is, your kind have managed to remain hidden, with the complicity of some in our world, and exposing you and those who protect you is as difficult as ever.'

'That's what you think?' Harry exclaimed. 'Do you know how many innocent people would have died if he had?'

'It's in the nature of war that innocent people die. Of course humanity would have had to stand up to Voldemort and his followers. It would have been a moral imperative. A great war. And then the whole world would have seen that for millennia, it had been harbouring a secret cabal of witches. Witches who have the ear of the world's leaders. Witches who have managed to sell the world the story that they never existed.'

'So Voldemort is your poster child for wizards? You refuse to believe that most wizards use magic for good and seek to protect Muggles? You obviously don't know as much about wizards as you claim to.'

'I know more than you know,' replied the Witchfinder.

With a sudden movement of his hand he knocked Harry's wand out of his hand and pushed him against the wall. His grip was stronger than Harry expected.

'It's rather inconvenient that you've reappeared. With the likes of you and your friend Miss Granger around, you might actually stand a chance of convincing the world that you're not a threat to it.'

'That's right, it's much more convenient to pretend that all wizards are like Voldemort,' Harry replied, choking from where the witchfinder was pressing down on his chest.

'As I said,' said Mr Morley, squeezing harder and making Harry start to cough, 'I have my doubts as to whether the French League of Witchfinders is really up to the job of incarcerating the likes of you and Miss Granger. I can't help thinking that we would do better. I think perhaps the two of you should be extradited back to my jurisdiction.'

Harry looked down at his wand. He tried a silent summoning spell, but the wand only shifted a little in the dirt. He envisaged for a moment what would happen to Hermione if he failed to defeat the Witchfinder. Ok, I have to do this the non-magic way. He started to chuckle.

'Do you think I don't mean it?' said the Witchfinder, a trace of irritation in his voice. 'We have ways of making sure you can't avail yourself of magic, even on the surface. You're nothing without magic.'

'No,' Harry replied. 'It's not that. I was just imagining what Voldemort would have done to you if he had ever got hold of you. Your big showdown would have lasted about ten seconds. And in about two seconds he would have turned you against the very people you claim to protect. You completely underestimate the cunning of wizards.'

'Is that right?' said the Witchfinder, his grip tightening even harder.

'Yeah. And you're doing it again,' said Harry. With a swift gesture he brought his knee crashing against the Witchfinder's groin. The Witchfinder fell to the ground, doubled over in pain.

Harry stepped over him.

'You think wizards are helpless without magic. A good wizard always knows when less magic is more.'

Then he kicked him again in the chest. He was about to kick him again when he heard the sound of a gun being cocked. He looked up and standing before him in the tunnel was Mr Bouquett, the Head of French witchfinders. Standing beside him was a tall, athletic-looking man in a smart suit. The man had a revolver trained on Harry's chest.

'That's enough, Mr Potter,' said Mr Bouquett calmly.

Harry stood up slowly. He was mesmerised by the barrel of the gun that was pointed at him. It occurred to him that his life had been in danger so many times, but this was the first time someone was actually aiming a gun at him.

'I must ask that you do no more damage to Mr Morley.'

Harry looked away from the gun at Mr Bouquett. He was slightly built, about sixty, with grey hair and round spectacles like those Harry himself used to wear. He wore a sombre grey suit and looked every bit the civil servant.

Mr Bouquett turned to the man with the revolver and addressed him in a commanding tone.

'Grosjean, prends-le.'

Grosjean followed his gaze and then looked at him quizzically.

'Lequel?'

Mr Bouquett looked at him with a stern look.

'Le chasseur de sorciers.'

'Et le sorcier?'

'Je m'en occupe moi-meme.'

The man hesitated and looked at Mr Bouquett in surprise. Mr Bouquett shot him a look that convinced him that he was serious. Shrugging slightly, Grosjean put the revolver in his pocket, knelt down and handcuffed Mr Morley, who was groaning on the floor. Mr Bouquett nodded to him brusquely, and Grosjean dragged the Witchfinder down the passage. Mr Bouquett turned back to Harry.

'Thank you, Mr Potter,' he said.

Harry stared at him in surprise.

'What for?' he said.

'You have prevented Mr Morley from kidnapping one of our prisoners. He has exceeded his jurisdiction by coming in here to kidnap the young witch in this cell. I shall be filing a report straight away, although I will have to think of a way to explain why you were not in your cell. Mr Morley has put our operations in danger.'

Unsure of what was to follow, Harry continued to stare at him.

'You are surprised,' said Mr Bouquett, with a hint of a smile on his face.

Harry nodded. He noticed that Mr Bouquett's English was much less accented than it had been in the cemetery.

'You are wondering what will happen next?'

Harry nodded again.

'Well, you and your friends will escape, along with the rest of the wizards you have already released. The Pavillon de Vaux will be closed and sold off. Perhaps someone will turn it into a nice pension, once these catacombs have been sealed and hidden, away from the eyes of the French police and the French Ministry of Magic. A new prison will be built somewhere else, though I can't guarantee I will be in charge of it. After this scandal I may be demoted.'

'I don't understand,' said Harry. 'You're letting us go?'

'Yes,' he replied with a kind of resigned disdain. 'I trust you to keep secret what you have seen down here.'

'Why would you trust me?'

'By personal recommendation of Albus Dumbledore.'

Harry looked at him in amazement.

'Of course you are surprised. Let me explain. It is a very difficult business, keeping the wizarding world secret, especially when some wizards, out of their contempt for … what do you call them in England … the Muggles, are careless about concealing it.'

'That's true,' Harry replied. 'But why would you want to keep it secret? Surely you want to expose it?'

'Exposing it would not be very productive. Our mission is to keep control of the wizarding world, to prevent it from interfering in our world. And we can better control you if you remain secret. But now, your world and our world are moving closer together, and this has problematic effects. Some young wizards become more like us and begin to lose interest in magic. At the same time there are more people who suspect that witchcraft truly exists. And they fear it.'

'I would have thought that you find both those things quite natural,' Harry replied.

'Yes and no. It is the natural course that things should take. But the situation risks getting out of control. More witchfinders are needed, but more of the right kind. Even Albus Dumbledore foresaw the need for us. And he had the sense to seek allies among witchfinders like me, before the return of Voldemort became his main concern. He suggested that your Ministry of Magic set up a department to work with us. I don't know whether his advice was followed. I have never heard from your Ministry.'

'The Ministry has someone investigating what it calls para-magical activities,' Harry replied. 'That has something to do with witchfinders. It's very small though.'

'That was not what Dumbledore had in mind,' Mr Bouquett scoffed. 'Take it from a professional witchfinder,' he continued, 'you need to be careful with amateurs like Mr Morley. Their amateurism is dangerous.'

'I think we will from now on,' Harry replied.

'I come from a long line of Witchfinders,' Mr Bouquett continued, the pride palpable in his voice. 'I make no apologies for it, as in the wider world, there are as many bad wizards and witches as good ones. It is an ancient and noble profession, one that involves considerable study.'

Harry smiled.

'Don't tell me, there's a school for witchfinders.'

Mr Bouquett frowned.

'I myself oppose the use of magic,' he continued, apparently ignoring Harry's remark. 'But out of necessity I acknowledge as our allies those wizards who use it for good. Anyone who has made a proper study of the problem would understand that. Mr Morley and his associates have not. To them the problem is all so simple. Expose wizards and let them find their natural place in society.'

'What's that I wonder,' said Harry. 'Being burned at the stake?'

Mr Bouquett looked at him inscrutably.

'Unlike Mr Morley, I have respect for wizards like Albus Dumbledore. And for you, Mr Potter. I know what you did, not just for Britain, but for all of us. Dumbledore and I never agreed on the merits of magic: I would always argue, a little like Mr Morley in fact, that magic is a violation of the natural order, that those people who have that gift should choose not to use it, whereas he would argue that magic when used justly, upholds and protects the natural order. But unlike Mr Morley, I regard wizards as human beings, and I believe that they should be treated with respect if they do anything to earn it. And that is what I do. It was part of my understanding with Albus Dumbledore to treat the wizards that come into my keeping with respect, and to keep them away from witchfinders like Mr Morley. That is why the conditions in this prison, as you will have seen, Mr Potter, are more comfortable than you might have imagined.'

'You keep us prisoners of an illusion.'

'Yes, but a happy illusion.'

Harry tried to take in everything he had just heard.

'And what will happen to Mr Morley?'

Mr Bouquett shrugged.

'Oh, we have no powers other than to evict him from the premises. I am quite sick of him. He will just go back to England to continue his work.'

'Why does he hate wizards so much?'

Mr Bouquett looked at him drily through his oval spectacles.

'He has his arguments. Quite rational ones.'

Harry stared back at Mr Bouquett. He was still not sure what to make of him.

'So you're letting us go so that we can keep an eye on Mr Morley?'

Mr Bouquett scrutinised Harry through grey eyes. Despite all he said, he suspected that Mr Bouquett didn't like letting wizards go free.

'I don't wish to keep wizards like you in prison. The world is a safer place for us if you are free. By the way, don't imagine that all the wizards you freed today are good wizards. But there's nothing that can be done about that. Now, I have a lot of work: a prison will not decommission itself. Goodbye, Mr Potter. I hope you won't betray the trust that has been shown in you today.'

He nodded politely to Harry and headed off down the passage. Just before he turned the corner, he turned once more to Harry.

'One more thing: there may come a day when you wizards are thankful that there are witchfinders around to keep you relevant.'

Picking up his wand from the dust, Harry went to the door to Hermione's cell.

He stepped out of the tunnel and under the canopy of a forest. From where he stood the ground sloped upwards, leading to a wall of trees that swept over the brow of a hill, obscuring whatever lay beyond it. He moved his feet and dry, dead leaves cracked under his foot. Even the air was cold. Where are you? On the far left of the scene he saw her, sheltering under the overhanging branches of a yew tree, her hands around her legs, tents flaps fluttering languidly at her back. I know where we are. She got to her feet as soon as she saw him.

'What took you so long?' she asked, concern in her eyes as she caressed his arm.

'Sorry, these tunnels are like a maze,' he replied.

'What tunnels?'

Suddenly he understood what she meant. This can't exactly be a happy memory. Although in a way it was.

He put his arm around her and began to scan their surroundings for Mr Bouquett's theatre optique. Something was moving in the undergrowth. It looked like light coming through the branches, only its movements were too regular, too circular.

'What's that over there? he asked, pointing at the faint moving light.

'I don't know,' said Hermione in a low voice, quickly raising her wand.

They walked silently towards the moving light, stopping before the bush that concealed it. Harry raised his foot over the bush, then brought it down hard where he could see the moving light. He heard the now familiar sound of the smashing of machinery and the wood faded from view. Hermione looked around at her new surroundings, a look of disorientation and regret quickly replaced with one of understanding. The first thing she did was to hug Harry.

'It's you,' she said, her hand still gripping his arm, 'it's really you. I can't quite get used to it. How did you get out?'

He put his hand on hers.

'Someone made a little opening in my dream and let me out.'

Her eyes flashed.

'It was her, I bet.'

He nodded.

'Yeah, I thought of what you said in the cemetery too. But is she helping us now or leading us to disaster?'

'Both, possibly,' said Hermione. 'Have you seen Mr Morley?'

Harry grinned.

'The witchfinder? Oh yeah, I've seen him. He's temporarily out of action.'

'Harry? What did you do to him?'

'It wasn't just me,' Harry replied. 'Mr Bouquett helped.'

'Mr Bouquett?'

'He's letting us go too.'

'Are you serious? Why?'

'I'll explain later, but if I say one word now, I think you'll understand: Dumbledore.'

'Dumbledore?'

She smiled. It's been a year since I saw that smile.

'You definitely will have to explain later. I'm intrigued.'

They looked at each in silence.

'Where are the others? Hermione asked.

'Waiting for us outside this building hopefully.'

'Well, let's go and find them.'

He paused for a moment, looking around the cell in which she had been kept. He imagined the witchfinder leering through the grate at her as she sat in front of the tent. He must have seen the place conjured for her. The thought that he should see it disgusted him.

'So you wanted to go back to when we were on the run?' he said.

'Yes,' she replied, turning back from the door. 'Is it not something you want to be reminded of?'

'No, not at all,' he said, walking swiftly across the cell to rejoin her. 'I often think about it. Or I did when I had memories.'

'They're happy memories,' said Hermione. 'Just memories of being with a friend.'

He kissed her lightly on the head as they stood in the doorway.

'I'm glad you were with me. In my cell I was with you.'

'Really?' she exclaimed, her eyes shining. 'Where were we?'

'I'll tell you later,' he replied. 'Like you said, it was just a memory of being with a friend.'

They followed the tunnel upwards before coming to a metal door. Stuck to the door was a post-it note.

'What's this?' Hermione, pointing at the door with her faint wand-light.

Harry peered at the note through the half-light.

'Gone for a walk in the cemetery,' he read. 'I wrote this. It's the note I left for Henoc on the front door of his building.'

He opened the door. Behind it was a spiral staircase leading upwards.

The spiral stairs went up several floors before ending at another metal door.

The first thing they saw when they opened the door was a curse exploding against the wall not far from them. With a quick glance at each other, they stepped through the door, their wands ready. The room they entered was a long, high-ceilinged room, with stone walls, wrought iron chandeliers and elegant furnishings. It would have made a grand living room, if it wasn't for the fact that it was in the process of being destroyed. The wizarding battle that was raging there seemingly pitted Caius, Ilaria and Henoc against the new vow wizards Charlie Skelton, Chloe Goodwin and Fitzroger. A dining table lay rent in two, and a leather three-piece suite was on fire, having also been ripped apart.

'I thought they were letting us go!' Harry shouted at Caius as they came alongside in.

'Well they forgot to tell this lot,' replied Caius, quickly parrying a curse from Skelton.

Harry and Hermione's joining the battle soon started to turn the tide, and the new vow wizards were driven back. Then a door opened behind them and Mr Morley entered, limping slightly, several wizards with him.

'I want them taken alive!' Mr Morley shouted as the battle began anew. 'We will extradite them to Britain tonight!'

'What about Mr Bouquett?' shouted Henoc in reply, as he fought off two wizards.

'Not everyone agreed with his decision,' said the witchfinder. 'Some take my view about what should happen to you.'

'Yet again you have wizards do your dirty work!' Hermione replied, as she battled Chloe Goodwin and one of the French wizards. 'Why don't you admit you really wish you were a wizard yourself?'

The evil look on Mr Morley's face suggested that he wasn't about to admit anything of the sort.

'Keep going, Miss Granger,' he said. 'I'm taking a mental note of everything you say. We can go over it again when I come to interrogate you.'

'I told you already,' Harry shouted just as he stunned his adversary. 'You'll never get to her.'

'I don't know, Mr Potter,' said Mr Morley. 'The odds aren't looking too good for you tonight.'

'And you want to know the best part,' called out Chloe Goodwin. 'Because of the soldiers' graves down below, you can't disapparate out of here! It doesn't work!'

Soon the five of them had been driven back into a circle.

'Any ideas?' said Henoc.

'Not really,' Harry replied.

But as their adversaries pushed forward for a final attack, something strange happened. Fitzroger suddenly began first to blink very rapidly, then to grimace. He looked left and right at his comrades, grimaced again, then fired a curse at one of the French wizards. The other wizards turned on him but almost immediately he felled another.

'What are you doing?' shouted Skelton. Then he started to pull a strange face too, cursing in quick succession two French wizards and Chloe Goodwin.

'What's going on?' shouted Caius as they pressed their advantage against their dwindling foe.

'Look at the window!' cried Hermione.

They glanced for a moment. A woman with glasses stood at the window, looking in at them, a look of grim concentration on her face.

'It's Serena!' said Caius.

By now the new vow wizards were defeated, Fitzroger having felled half of them on his own. His last act was to curse himself. He collapsed on top of the witchfinder, and the two of them fell down in a heap.

They left the Pavillon de Vaux as soon as they could, after first having placed a more lasting containment spell on Mr Morley, and having released Mr Bouquett from his. 'This is the end for me,' Mr Bouquett had muttered as they set him free. 'Half the wizards deserted me. No, this means demotion for sure.' They met up with Serena Lynch outside, marvelling at her legilimency skills and asking how she came to be there. It was evening outside, and once Serena told them what day it was, it became clear that they had been imprisoned for about 48 hours.

'I wanted to know what you were doing,' Serena had explained shyly, mostly addressing Hermione and Caius. 'I knew if I looked hard enough, I could find you. I just wanted to help you, the way you helped me.'

They had to go some distance away from the house, into the woods that surrounded it, in order to disapparate. Harry glanced back through the trees at the house, an ancient, thick-walled, three-storey stone building with narrow windows, getting his first look at it just as they disapparated back to Paris. From there, some rather awkward goodbyes were made: Caius and Ilaria decided to stay on in Paris, while Harry, Hermione and Serena left for Britain the following morning. Harry and Hermione parted company from Serena in central London with a promise to keep in touch.

While in London, they had one more place they had to visit before tackling the Burrow: officially Harry was still employed by Vlaminck's Esoteric and Occult.