Fingerspitzengefühl: An intuitive instinct about any given situation, and to know how to react to it without having to deliberate, the ability to respond tactfully and appropriately Lit. "Fingertips feeling"

"So, this is your office? It's lovely. It is quite spacious, too." Hermione leaned out of the window to inspect the view. Viktor had to agree. To many people, his office would seem like nothing special, but to him, it was the symbol of his new life, his still valid existence after his Quidditch career ended. It could not be any more different to his former workplace, but it didn't matter. It was his.

"You can make yourself comfortable here, I still need to get some stuff done before we leave for England. Alternatively, I can drop you at Jaron's office. He will keep you busy." His boss was possibly the chattiest person Viktor knew. He was also rather proficient in pulling information out of people by virtue of his chattiness. Viktor had often been in the interrogation room with him, the man made even the most stubborn of suspects sing like a canary, and that without even raising his voice at them.

"As much as I would love that, I'd hate to keep people from working. I will be just fine here. Besides, I have work to do as well." she pulled out several textbooks out of her old beaded bag. Viktor couldn't help but smile. He loved working together with her, this was how he had fallen in love with her after all.

"Would you like to use my desk?"

"No, no, I will use the table over there." In addition to his desk, Viktor had a small, round meeting table in his office. Hermione pulled one of the chairs, but froze as her eyes were transfixed on the wall. Shit. He had forgotten to cover the sticky board.

"Is that how they found her?" She was pointing at the crime scene photos.

Viktor hastily cast a spell to flip the board around. "I am sorry, Hermione, I should have done that before you came."

"No, I want to see."

"Don't. They will upset you."

She squinted at him angrily, arms crossed over her chest. "I have seen worse, Viktor."

"I know, but…"

"Aren't we in this together?

"Partially." Viktor flipped the board back over. Hermione dropped her books on the table and looked closer. She removed a particularly nasty photograph.

"You said she died of exsanguination, right?"

"Yes."

"And blood?"

"There was no blood on the crime scene. She was carried there from somewhere else."

"But what about her body?"

"The blood in her body?" Viktor couldn't follow.

"There is no livor mortis. She should be purplish complexion, but she looks chalk-white." Much to Viktor's dismay, Hermione cast a magnifying charm and examined the photo closely. "Where is the blood?"

"You have been watching Midsumer Murders again. I should talk to your parents."

"Viktor, I am serious!"

Viktor decided not to poke the bear any further and read through the pathologist's report in the case file. "She was heavily exsanguinated, so that is expected, no? She would have hardly any blood left to cause colouring."

"I am not sure. If you are dead, the heart will stop pumping and the blood will clot. Unless, they intentionally removed the blood, but wouldn't you need an anticoagulant for that?"

"Or magic?"

From the way Hermione pursed her lips, she didn't particularly care for that mental image.

"And what about St. Mungo's? Did they do an autopsy?"

"No, I am afraid not. Cassius Warrington demanded that his wife be cremated as soon as possible, and as the killing was ruled as "committed by muggles", there was no further autopsy."

"And Harry was OK with this?" Hermione's voice got shriller the more annoyed she was.

"There was nothing much that he could do. Don't be hard on him."

Hermione huffed and stared at the photo some more. "There is something… I can't quite put my finger on it yet." Just then, Viktor's phone rang.

"Harry, you are just the man I need." Yes! Viktor loved how this sentence sounded in English, and had always wanted to say it. Hermione chuckled at his cliché wording.

"Yeah, sorry... Banks told me that you were looking for me yesterday. Did you give him an autograph?"

"Harry."

"Sorry, sorry…" Harry laughed into Viktor's ear. "I sometimes forget that you are still ridiculously famous."

"You're saying that?"

"My moment of fame's over, mate. I spent the whole of yesterday placing tracking spells on wands. Not exactly what I would call glamorous. I heard that Warrington accepted my deal?"

Viktor saw that Hermione was looking at him intently. "Yes, he did. Hermione is here with me, I'll put you on the speaker." Otherwise, he would have to recite the entire conversation to her, anyway.

Hermione moved closer to his desk. "Hello Harry!"

"Hi, 'Mione! What are you doing there?"

"I'll travel to England with Viktor today, stay with my parents for a bit. You're keeping busy?"

"One might say so, yes. Viktor, I read your notes on the victim memories. You saw the guy mix two potions together?" Hermione lifted her eyebrows. She had beautiful eyebrows. They were so expressive.

"Yes, he was mixing the contents of two vials together."

"Blimey…" Harry was silent for a bit, Hermione was also staring at the wall, lost in thought. "Do you think it is a poison?"

"I don't know." Viktor was not a Potions expert, at all. He knew that Harry also wasn't. Hermione was cleverer than both of them, but she shook her head.

"It has been too long for me, I am afraid. I would also guess that one vial is the poison and the other vial is something to activate it, but you'll need to ask an expert. You can write a letter to Severus, he is good with this stuff." She didn't offer to write the letter herself, thought Viktor, it looks like they are still not on speaking terms.

"Yeah, I guess… I mean, it makes sense, though, doesn't it?" Harry's voice was still thoughtful. "This is a major breakthrough. Listen, I have to go. I am sending you what I have on Malfoy and the Bulwark, the files should be there any moment now. Hermione?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"Both of you, actually. We have received intelligence that there will be an illegal demonstration this afternoon against the State of Emergency. People, especially business owners, are pissed that they have been locked down at the whim of some terrorists. Don't go to Diagon Alley this afternoon, either of you."

"This is such a bad idea. Isn't this dangerous?" Hermione quickly switched to protect Harry mode. Years of habit died hard.

"We'll try to send them home before the gathering gets too large. Look, maybe I wasn't quite honest when I talked about my moment of fame being over. People still listen to me. Ron as well. We will take a couple of more Aurors and nip this at the bud. It will be fine, don't worry." With that, the curse of don't worry was upon Viktor again. Hermione didn't look too convinced, either.

There was a brief knock at the door. The secretary walked in with two folders.

"The files are here, Harry."

"Brilliant. How about I come over to Sofia tomorrow, and we bring everything we have together? Have a brainstorming session, like real partners. I initially thought we could set camp here, but I could really use a change of scenery right now. In any case, I'll let you know when the ordeal is over today."

"That sounds good. See you tomorrow, then."

"Bye Harry!" Not that Hermione was particularly difficult to read for anyone, but Viktor could always tell when she tried to sound chipper, though she was not. They looked into each other's eyes for a moment in silent reassurance. She smiled, and so did Viktor. Without saying another word, they went back to work.

What Harry had found out about Draco Malfoy was a lot more than Viktor had anticipated. He had known that Draco, much to the dismay of his father, had had the courage to surrender himself to the Aurors after the war. Since he was underage when he became a Death Eater, he had been sentenced to one year of house arrest and had been permitted to finish his studies remotely. He had then done a Potions mastery in Germany for four years, returned to England after his apprenticeship residence permit expired. He had then left again for a year, first to Australia, but it wasn't clear if he had stayed there. After his return to England, he had founded a Potions company, which was not doing great. They had a range of new products, but did not deliver to any of the larger apothecaries or to St Mungo's. Viktor wondered who he sold his products to, it wasn't like the British market was huge, and the fact that Britain was not a part of the Pact meant that he could not sell medicinal products abroad easily. There was also a recent photograph. The boy was the spitting image of his father. Must be quite a torment, if he really hated his father as much as Viktor had been told.

"Have you met Draco Malfoy recently, Hermione?" Hermione had been working with her back to him, but he still saw her cringe slightly. She turned around.

"No, I haven't seen him since we took our N.E.W.T.s. He did apologize to me back then, and for what it is worth, he seemed sincere. I think he left the country after that."

"But otherwise not at all? He has been back for some years, Wizarding Britain is rather tiny."

Hermione shrugged. "Dunno, I have been in Hogwarts. It is not like we share any social circles. The Slytherins from his year are gone as well. Pansy married and moved to America, Greg… I don't know, actually, but he doesn't live in England any more."

"Did he have no other close friends in other houses?"

Hermione almost snorted. "Are you joking? Slytherins never had any friends outside their house. Thinking about it, hardly anyone had close friends outside their houses, unless they had siblings or childhood friends that had been sorted to a different house to theirs. I do question a lot of my actions, but campaigning to change the sorting system was the best thing I have ever done in my life. It was just so artificial, and so segregating. If I could, I would have done away with the house system altogether."

Viktor would never miss a perfect chance to rile his girlfriend. "But how would they play Quidditch, then?"

"Don't. Get. Me. Started. On. Quidditch. Do you know how dangerous it is for… Oh my god, you are doing it on purpose, aren't you?" A burst of laughter escaped Viktor, and a crumpled paper ball landed between his brows.

"Arse."

"You love it."

"Yes." Hermione smiled, and Viktor's heart was as glad as a breeze through a chamomile lawn. "I love."

Viktor smiled back, and when she turned back to her work, he closed his eyes and revelled in the way his heart beat increased at her two words. Just like working together in the Hogwarts library all those years ago, he thought, except now he could kiss her whenever he wanted. To prove himself a point, he stood up and did just that, but returned to his desk before he could prove any more points. He turned the pages of the Bulwark file, noted the address, and checked the clock on the wall.

"We should leave in ten minutes, is that fine?"

Hermione nodded, still not lifting her head from the book. Just like Hogwarts.

The Ministry of Magic was… quiet. Tense. Employees walked around with bent heads, nobody said a word. Every other time when he had been there, Viktor had found it too loud, too chaotic. Now it was the exact opposite, yet Viktor found it even more stifling. He draped his arm around Hermione's shoulders and led her with hasty steps until they were outside the anti-Apparition wards. Once they were outside, he wasted to time in Apparating both of them to the Grangers' house. When the world stopped spinning around them, the arms that let go of his waist wound around his neck and pulled him down for a long kiss. Viktor didn't even try to suppress the feeling of longing when he realized that he would go to bed without her that night. He knew that it would not go away.

"You'll be careful, Viktor?" Viktor kissed her some more.

"You are carrying your gun again."

"It is a part of being careful." They held each other for a while, but loath though Viktor was to let go of her, he was running late for his appointment.

"Are your parents in the clinic?"

"Yes, they are, and in the evening they are out with some other muggle parents. They'll probably be late. Are you sure you can take care of Pebbles till I'm back? She is so used to roaming your garden now, I didn't have the heart to confine her in the flat."

Viktor kissed her brow. "It will be fine, my love."

"We will talk, right?"

"Of course we will talk. Just call me."

"There is still so much we don't know."

"We will manage, together."

"You know," she wrapped her arms around his waist again. "It is lovely to hear your voice, but I miss our letters when I am not in Hogwarts."

"Do you?" Viktor stroked her hair. He really needed to leave.

"I do. Talking on the phone is not the same."

Viktor kissed Hermione one last time and then once more before they said their goodbyes. An Apparition later, he was at Draco Malfoy's address in one of the side streets of Diagon Alley. The office was in an old building with several other small standalone businesses. Viktor inspected the signs at the entrance. Translator, notary, artefact repairs… Aqua Regia Potions, third floor. He climbed up the way too slow escalator, two steps at a time. When he knocked on the door, it wasn't an assistant or secretary, but Draco Malfoy himself, who opened the door.

"The great Viktor Krum, it has been, how many years?" Good question, thought Viktor. He had seen the boy during the Battle of Hogwarts fleetingly, but wasn't sure if that counted.

"Many," seemed good enough an answer, and Draco Malfoy didn't seem to care either way. The office consisted of a small entrance hall and three rooms, nothing remotely as opulent as Viktor would have expected from anything Malfoy-related. Draco himself was dressed in a simple white button-down shirt and dark slacks. He was also wearing glasses, which Viktor found oddly endearing. His resemblance to Malfoy Sr was even more striking in real than in the photograph. Viktor sincerely hoped that, despite this superficial similarity, Draco had grown out of being the kid-shaped pile of daddy issues that he had been during his time in Hogwarts. The room that he was led to was not an office but a meeting room, rather sparsely decorated.

"Can I offer you anything? Tea? Coffee? You wouldn't want anything stronger, I assume, being on duty?"

"I am fine, thanks." Viktor helped himself to a glass of water, and placed his notebook and pen on the table. Slowly.

"So, how is your new life as an Auror?" Draco sounded sincere, cordial and genuinely interested, as if he were an old friend with whom Viktor was catching up after a while. Which he very much wasn't. Still, Viktor found that he wanted to get to know this younger Malfoy better before he started questioning him.

"It has its moments. How is your election campaign going?"

"Ah," Draco waved his hand dismissively, "I don't have much time for campaigning. In fact, I don't have any political ambition whatsoever. I just wanted to show the younger generation that those two dinosaurs do not have to be our only option, that's all." Viktor decided to let that pass.

"I was surprised to see that you own a Potions company now, is this a line of business that your family is involved in?"

Draco laughed. "Viktor, my family was never involved in any line of business other than being rich and influential. If you have money, it is not difficult to attract more money. Of course, the fortune that my father was always so proud of is nothing compared to the fortunes of some richer muggles in the world, which is probably the reason why he never opened up to the muggle world. Too scared to see just how small and unimportant he really is. But I digress. No, it is not a family business. The biggest influence on my interest in Potions is my former professor, Severus Snape. He is the one who encouraged me to train as a Potions Master. I have always enjoyed the topic in Hogwarts, so I took him up on his advice, and… here I am." He stretched his arms out. Viktor looked around him. Years of hard work, and this is where Draco was. Tiny office at the bottom of the Diagon Alley, barely making ends meet.

"How's Granger these days?" That question almost took Viktor by surprise. Draco smirked at him, "You two are still together, right? If the power couple of the decade broke up, surely we would have heard about it."

"Hermione is fine, and yes, we are still together." replied Viktor, slightly irritated by the question.

"Is she still at Hogwarts? She is being wasted there, you know? I have been following her research. Her big theory, how does she call it? The Observer Effect? People do not realize just how groundbreaking it is yet. Muggle scientists are building a massive particle accelerator. When, in a few years, they have generated more data and Granger has the proof she needs for her theory, she will become a legend. War heroine, girlfriend of the Quidditch superstar, Hogwarts professor, and soon, the most famous witch in the world who uncovers the secret of magic. The world is her oyster, isn't it?"

Was that how being Hermione looked like to other people? So simple? Viktor was suddenly very aware of the evil eye charm that he had made a habit of pinning to his shirt since his visit to Durmstrang. Maybe he should get Hermione one, too. He did feel a little disappointed with himself that Draco was so up-to-date with Hermione's research, though, when he was yet to read a single paper of hers. Well, he had tried, but he just didn't have the necessary background to understand theoretical magic at such a level. Draco, however, seemed to. Interesting.

"I am not sure if Hermione is interested in having the world." He cleared his throat lightly before changing the subject. "You started this company right after your mastery, if I'm correctly informed." He knew that this wasn't the case, but he wanted to give Draco a false sense of security by making him think that he hadn't done his homework before the meeting. Most of the time people underestimated him anyway, thinking that he is a brainless, Quidditch-playing brawler, but the more he was underestimated, the better.

"No, in fact, I travelled for a year after my mastery. Took some time off." Draco locked his hands behind his head, looking rather relaxed. Good. "I did some work, too, of course, looking for rare ingredients and visiting famous Potioneers across the world. It helped me develop my product portfolio."

"And what is in your product portfolio, if I may ask?"

Draco lifted an eyebrow. Damn. Viktor was indeed the only one who couldn't. "We have a vegan blood-replenishing potion that replaces Arenicola marina blood with a cultivar of liverwort. Much easier to produce, and cheaper too. Another creation that we are proud of is a version of Dreamless Sleep which induces sleep, but mimics the natural stages of light sleep, deep sleep, and REM. It is much more restorative than conventional sleeping draughts, and not addictive. We also have developed a novel fermentation procedure to manufacture a formula specially tailored to the needs of premature babies. Should I go on, or...?"

Viktor shook his head and finished his notes. These potions did sound rather important and innovative. Why wasn't Draco making any money?

"How many people do you employ?"

"I have two apprentice brewers who work mostly in our production facility in Leeds. I oversee the product development and business. We do mostly research and development, but hope to extend our portfolio into mass production as well. Viktor, I am very flattered by your interest in my company." Draco put his hands on the table. "Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"Yes, in fact there is. I am investigating the terror attack in Cardiff. I have been told that your company is developing a cure for the victims, and is already close to success. I was wondering, how did you manage to develop a cure in such a short time, when we don't even know what caused the victims to lose their magical abilities in the first place? Or do you have an idea?"

For a split second, Draco looked like he had been stabbed. "Who told you that?"

Let's twist the knife, Viktor thought. "Your father."

"My father…" Draco took a pen between his fingers and flipped it several times. "He is quite the gossip monger, isn't he?"

"So, you are not working on a cure?"

"I am, like every other Potioneer in the country, or even some abroad. I'd just rather keep my trade secrets to myself. I am sure you concur."

Viktor wasn't sure what concur meant, but he guessed that Draco wanted him to give up asking questions in this regard. "I will have to insist. This is a matter of international importance, and a murder investigation."

"Murder? Did any of the victims die?" Draco did look genuinely shocked.

"I am afraid I can't disclose any information on the case at this point, but I will need you to collaborate." Viktor dropped his pen. He was getting tired of this verbal tug-of-war.

After a moment's silence, Draco answered, "Very well. We are developing a new line of potions that strengthen the magical core, boost magical power, and cure magic fatigue. We are now looking into modifications that will increase the efficacy of the active components and hopefully will be able to help the victims."

What a load of bullshit, thought Viktor. Potions to boost magical ability were the best-selling scam in the magical world, so much so that Hermione likened them to the detox products of the non-wizarding world. Magic fatigue could be cured by a good night's sleep like any fatigue, and the only thing to increase magical ability was practice. Draco had the credentials of a good, serious Potioneer, would he resort to marketing useless supplements to save his business? Viktor was sure that he was lying. But that was fine. There was a lot to be learned from the lies that people told, as well.

"Have you tested these products on anyone yet?"

Draco's expression was impassive. "We do have trials running on healthy witches and wizards, yes. If we acquire permission from the ministry, and if any of them volunteer, we would like to proceed onto testing them on the victims as well, when the time comes. Now, if that's all…"

"I will need a list of your test subjects."

"That is not possible, I am afraid. That data is confidential."

"Did I mention that this is a murder investigation, Mr Malfoy?"

"Yes, but I fail to see what this has to do with my business."

"As the lead investigator of the case, that is for me to decide."

Draco stood up, and opened the door in a very clear gesture. "In that case, you will have to request them via the formal route, and I will be happy to provide. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must join my team in Leeds."

"One more thing." Viktor made no move to acknowledge that he was being dismissed. "We have reason to believe that a volatile poison was used in the attack in Cardiff. Would you happen to know what kind of poison would remove the ability of a witch or wizard to perform magic?" Viktor looked at Draco, who, unlike his father, was rather short-tempered.

"Oh, perfect, now I see why you're here. A potion was used for the attack, and you made the easiest assumption that the ex-Death Eater must be behind it. Very well-deduced, Krum, and so imaginative." He sneered, breathing through his nostrils. Viktor had hit a very sore spot indeed.

Viktor stood up and put his notes in his pocket. Slowly. "No, Mr Malfoy, I made the easiest assumption, which is no assumption at all. Potions are not my area of expertise, and I am merely consulting you. I thought you would be glad to help, but since you are not, I will consult someone else. Thank you for your time."

Just as he crossed the doorstep, Draco called, "Wait. I don't know what kind of poison they used, obviously. But there are some reagents that you can mix into potions to turn them into aerosols. Liquid droplets. I will send you a list, but any Potions Master would know about these as well."

Viktor didn't reply, but handed Draco his card and left. Whoever blurted out the news about Draco's possible cure to his father was sure to catch hell from him. Viktor quickly summed up his visit in his head. Draco did hate his father, he had a very small company and wasn't making a lot of money, and seemed to have a chip on his shoulder by the way he talked about Hermione. He had agreed to give Viktor one piece of unspecific information not to appear utterly uncooperative, and withheld the real pieces of information, especially the list of test subjects. He would place a formal request, but he was sure as the Snitch is golden that Draco was just buying himself time to tinker with the documents. Unfortunately, Viktor didn't have enough evidence to acquire a search warrant. Yet. Then again, did he really have a good result to place him as a suspect? What could be his motive to be involved with something like this? To invent a chemical weapon, coerce Shacklebolt to resign and take his place by force? Way too far-fetched.

And he still needed to find Blankley. As Viktor stepped out of the building, he looked around to see if there were any signs of the gathering Harry had talked about. The streets were empty. He resisted the urge to walk around and Apparated to Blankley's address.

Blankley was not home. Again. Viktor didn't bother to knock the door, he cast a human detection charm and a ward-revealing charm. No man. No wards.

"Are you looking for Mr Blankley, dear?" An older witch passing by with a small white terrier on a leash asked. "I haven't seen him since, oh, when was it, the day before? He usually drops by every evening to ask if I need anything, such a lovely man. He never goes away without letting me know beforehand. I wonder what happened."

Fuck.

"Madam, do you know if Mr Blankley has any family? Anyone I could contact?"

"I am not sure..."

Viktor could see that the lady was growing suspicious. He liked that. "I am an Auror, madam. I would be very grateful for your cooperation." Viktor showed her his shiny badge. The old lady beamed, very obviously exalted to help an Auror.

"He has a niece who works in this magazine… the Citadel? Yes, the Citadel." Viktor was very grateful that he had looked up what "Bulwark" meant, otherwise it would have been hard to make the connection.

"May I have your name, madam?"

"Me? It is Ms Maple, Aurora Maple," she replied, accentuating each word.

"Do you need anything, Madam Maple?"

"I beg your pardon?" Ms Maple blinked a few times.

"You said Mr Blankley used to check on you every evening, but hasn't the past days. I was wondering if there is anything you require."

"Oh, that is ever so kind of you," the lady still looked surprised. "I am quite alright, I suppose. Do you think he'll be back soon?"

Viktor shrugged.

"Is he in trouble?"

"Perhaps," Viktor handed Ms Maple his card, "if you see anything suspicious, you can Floo me at this address. Or call me, if you have a telephone. I will need to take a look at his house." Thankfully, Ms Maple went on her way without further comments, though she glanced behind every few steps, as discreetly as she managed.

Now, what to do? Viktor didn't have a search warrant. Blankley was a free man, he could do as he pleased. Could he justify breaking in just on a hunch? He walked around the house, spelled the blinds to slide open, and took a peek inside. It didn't look like anything was out of the ordinary. Why were there no wards? Anyone could Apparate inside. Should he? Damn, he needed Harry. He checked the address of the Bulwark. He should go talk to the niece. The Bulwark office was also in the Diagon Alley. It was already almost two. Harry had specifically told him not to go near Diagon Alley in the afternoon. The Bulwark, unsurprisingly, didn't have a phone number. Should he go there? Harry had told him not to. Why was everything in Diagon Alley? According to his neighbour, Blankley had already been gone since before the travel ban. Had he already fled the country? Had he been kidnapped? Killed?

Viktor hated being indecisive.

He tried the front door, which was locked. He couldn't bring himself to unlock it, the act was too viscerally unlawful. Instead, he Apparated inside, not quite knowing whether to draw his wand or gun - which was stupid really, he had verified that there was no one inside. He crossed the foyer, scanned the living room, and the kitchen. The fireplace that was surrounded by a white, ornate mantelpiece had been deactivated. There was no sign of struggle, break-in, or hasty departure; in fact, not a single couch cushion or picture frame looked out of place. Viktor assumed that Blankley was a fastidious person, so this wasn't that suspicious. The bedroom was the same, bed neatly made, toiletries arranged in front of the dressing mirror, socks sorted in the drawer according to their colour, underwear ironed. A few grey hairs tangled in the tortoiseshell comb were the only signs that this was a lived-in home. The bathroom was similarly tidy, tastefully decorated with grey and raspberry tiles, with matching rugs and towels folded symmetrically to the centimetre. Viktor had an awful feeling in his stomach. He went back to the living room, and looked around for anything with a date on it; letters, journal, maybe a newspaper? There was nothing. Just as a final check, Viktor darkened the house and searched for blood traces with his UV-torch. There were none. Well, it was easy enough to kill or kidnap someone without bloodshed, even for non-wizards. With the darkening charm cancelled, Viktor looked around him one last time. Blankley was gone, that much was clear. It looked like someone had taken him, and made sure that all discriminating evidence was eliminated, but Viktor couldn't be sure. Blankley could just as well have staged the whole thing.

When he left the house, it was close to four. Harry had told that he would let him know once the protesters were sent home, so Viktor assumed that he was still busy. He had no grounds to place a ward to notify him in case someone entered the house, Blankley was not officially a wanted or missing person. He couldn't start collecting hairs or fingerprints without a warrant, either. He desperately wanted to go find Blankley's niece, but Harry was his partner, and he had told him to stay away Diagon Alley for the afternoon, hadn't he? And Viktor had agreed. Viktor finally made up his mind to go to the Ministry and wait for Harry to show up. Perhaps he could even visit his friend Banks and do a little background research on Blankley's close family. Just as he raised is wand to Apparate, a silver otter materialized in the air.

"Viktor, come to St Mungo's, as quickly as you can. It is Harry."