By the Pricking of my Thumbs

Sorry this has taken a little longer than usual to post, but I found it quite a difficult chapter to write (it's also a bit longer than usual!).  Lots of you spotted that Marcus was Draco right from the start – well done!  Tell me what you think of the rest of the plot winding up.  There's still the Epilogue to come, so don't expect me to explain absolutely everything here.  Thanks for reviews everyone – PJ Babington, Keith Fraser, Qaera, Maidmarian62, iggly wiggly, Zelda, Firoza,, W&M_Law, Vicky R, spy_angel, Kelly Anne, ~~R~~, Ginny Potter, Carrie, Anne, Shotokan Man, Kitty, Angel Grl, Andrea, Grace, Sara, rosee, KasMac16 and anyone else I forgot.  Please write and tell me what you think of this.

Keith – I'm touched that you read and enjoyed "Malfunction?"  It was my first attempt at fanfiction writing (in a rather peculiar fandom, I admit, but who argues with inspiration?  I don't know about you, but I'm grateful for anything that inspires me!)

PJ – you always seem to correctly anticipate something!  Well, it might be "too pat", but I thought it was a great idea!

"By the Pricking of my Thumbs"

by Penpusher

Chapter Eleven: "The Last Twist of the Knife"

Arthur Weasley was having a bad day, and it had barely even started.  He glanced at his cold tea and plate of toast now the consistency of old leather, and reluctantly turned back to the pile of newly-opened owl post littering the kitchen table.

"Why do these things always happen to me?" he muttered, groping for a quill to scribble on the latest message.  Two owls were perched impatiently on the windowsill, obviously waiting for replies.  As he laboured to complete his messages, two more events occurred to darken his day.  A further owl, unknown to Arthur, arrowed in through the window to settle on the table, hooting urgently, and, with a flurry of soot and smoke, three uninvited guests stepped from the fireplace into the Weasley kitchen.  He blinked wonderingly at two of them, but at sight of the third he smiled and relaxed.

"Ah, Fred.  Just the man!  I'm having real problems keeping Operations satisfied about that little incident in Kensington last week.  Perhaps you could give me a hand.  Just a moment." He stood up, craning his head round the kitchen door, "Molly!  Fred's come for a visit.  And he's brought some friends!"

"Good morning, Mr. Weasley." said Lee, advancing from the fireplace, pausing to wipe his sooty hand on the seat of his jeans before offering it to Arthur.  The other man's face suddenly cleared as he shook it.

"Lee!" he exclaimed, "Of course!  We hardly ever see you these days.  How are you?  What are you getting up to at the moment?"

"I'm very well indeed, Mr. Weasley." began Lee, "I'm still at the Ministry, you know, but I work so much from home that I don't see many people outside my own department.  Mr. Weasley, I'm sorry we had to barge in on you like this, but the truth is that we've discovered something rather …" But Arthur had already switched his attention.

"And who is this lovely young lady you've brought with you?" he smiled in Ellen's direction and she also offered her hand to shake.

"My name is Ellen MacBeth, Mr. Weasley.  I'm a friend of Fred's – oh, and Lee's too." she added, glancing diffidently in his direction.  "I've recently moved into Harry's House."

"Splendid, splendid!"  Mr. Weasley beamed, "MacBeth, you say.  Really?  One of the MacBeths?  Goodness, how incredibly interesting.  You really must tell me about it in detail some time.  So you've moved in with Harry, eh?  Just the thing for Ginny.  You know, she really misses Hermione, but it can't exactly be helped.  Can't stop these things happening – wouldn't want to, of course.  We were delighted when Ron told us that he and Hermione – Ah, here's Molly now."  Plump, round-faced Mrs. Weasley entered the kitchen beaming all over her face.

"Fred!" she exclaimed, pulling his head down to kiss him soundly. "You should have said you were coming: I'd have had breakfast ready for you!"  She began to wave her wand in the direction of the frying pan, when Fred caught her arm.

"Just a moment, Mum." He said, rather more gravely, "I think Dad had better hear what we've come for before you start cooking.  We may not have time to eat it."  At Fred's grim tone, his mother's bright smile faded slightly and Arthur began to look rather anxious.

"It's not about George, is it?" he asked.  Fred shrugged.

"I have no idea whether what we have to tell you affects George or not," he began, "But I'd be very surprised if ultimately it didn't."  The three dragged chairs up to the table and began to relate what they knew while Mrs. Weasley supplied them with fresh cups of tea and stacks of fresh toast.  At the end of their recital, Arthur paused so long staring into his cup, that Lee wondered if he had fallen asleep.  Finally, he raised his head and exhaled wearily.

"Nothing is ever simple." He murmured, mostly to himself, then he seemed to snap out of it, "Right, so to put it in a nutshell, the information that Fred and George brought back from Iran is suspect, therefore the information from Mexico is also suspect, and you haven't heard from Sirius in three days to argue the point.  Putting these things together, it's a pretty safe bet that Harry and Ron are in some sort of danger, not to mention Sirius too, does that about cover it?"

"Yes, sir, but it's not only that."  Lee was extremely agitated, "I've tried and tried to get people to listen to me over this.  Admittedly I didn't have exactly this information before, but even now it's still only supposition.  I could spend weeks cooling my heels in corridors waiting for people to see me before anyone takes action.  I'm convinced that this trip was a set-up from start to finish, in which case it may very well be too late already!"

"I've grasped that, Lee, thank you." replied Arthur in a crisp tone that few people had heard him use before.  He crammed the last piece of toast into his mouth, washing it down with the dregs of his tea, and turned towards the fireplace.

"I know exactly who's trying to make sure you don't rock the boat, Lee." He began, "I'm having considerable problems with him myself.  I can't make up my mind whether he's doing it deliberately or if he's just, well, rather foolish and clumsy.  I daresay time will tell.  However, this is not getting anything done.  Fred, I'm about to call in a few favours."  He grinned up at his son, and for a moment Ellen could have sworn she was looking at George grinning mischievously at his brother.

"Tantalus Brown has been a thorn in my side for some time." Arthur continued, giving a flick of his wand towards the empty grate.  Instantly red and orange flames leaped into life.

"He's nominally in charge of my department, you know.  Interferes in everything – mostly things that don't concern him or tasks he thinks should be carried out or reported differently.  My staff have been driven mad by his continual carping.  Well, now I'm going over his head. We need to get to Harry and Ron fast, but we can't do it without backup.  I'll get us the muscle, then we'll apparate to Sirius's place – it's called Uinal, isn't it? – and find out where to go from there.  Fred, take care of that owl for me, would you?"  He turned to the fireplace to make his call, while Fred took the message off the leg of the by now frantic owl which had started to peck his ears in frustration at being ignored.  Fred's satisfied smirk at the sight of his father at last breaking out of his box was very quickly wiped off his face as he read the message.

"Oh, gods!" he whispered, paling visibly.  Ellen laid a gentle hand on his arm.

"What is it, Fred!"

"It's George.  He's in serious trouble.  Muggle trouble.  This has got to have something to do with our source in Iran!  If anything happens to George ..."  Fred trailed off, re-reading the message, but his expression boded ill for his Iranian informant, should they meet again.

"What's happened to him?"  Lee glanced at Ellen's hand.  She pointedly removed it and glared at him.  Fred was too preoccupied to notice.

"He's been arrested.  He's in an Iranian muggle jail.  Luckily, he managed to get word to his contact at the Embassy – that's who sent the owl."  Ellen had never seen Fred more shaken or more worried.

"I know what those jails are like." He grated out, "I've seen them – never been in one myself, mercifully – he'll be lucky to get out alive, particularly if he resorts to magic.  Once they find out he's a wizard, he's dead.  I hope to Merlin they've taken away his wand!"

"But what could he possibly do to get arrested?"  Fred shrugged.

"This doesn't give details, but the gist is that he offended against one of their strict religious codes and wound up being challenged by police.  He protested rather too loudly, I think, and they took him away."  He put the parchment down on the table and snagged his father's quill.

"I have to go to Iran immediately."  He told Lee as he wrote furiously on the parchment, "I can't afford to waste time – George could be in serious danger.  I'm afraid you'll have to deal with Harry and Ron on your own."

"What?" Lee's jaw dropped, "What sort of a man of action do you think I am?  I'm strictly a backroom boy, not a mercenary."

"Relax, Lee." Ellen told him, smiling sweetly, "From what I hear of Arthur's conversation, we'll have plenty of mercenaries to keep the peace." She turned to Fred, concern etched all over her pretty face.

"Just go," she told him, "As quickly as possible, but please be careful!  We'll explain the situation to Arthur.  Go, on – Go!"  Fred nodded, concentrated briefly, then suddenly winked out.  Just as he disappeared, there was a small disturbance behind them.  Lee and Ellen turned to see Hermione standing in the doorway, clutching one of the walls for support.

"Phew!  I hate apparating," she exclaimed, putting her hand to her head, "But the fireplace was in use, and this is urgent."  Looking wildly around the kitchen, she turned to Lee.

"Arthur's obviously busy." she said quickly, "Lee, I've just had the most extraordinary message from Ron."  Talking rapidly, taking no account of Ellen's unexplained presence, she related the entirety of Ron's communication.  Lee listened attentively with pursed lips then, as she finished, laid a comforting hand on her arm.

"At least half an hour ago he was able to call for help." he said with a faint smile, "Frankly, the scenario is a good deal better than I feared when I finally found what I had been looking for.  However, I think the cavalry is being assembled as we speak."  He looked round just as Arthur moved away from the fireplace.

"I've managed to bypass a number of very irritating procedures." He announced, his eyes alight with mischief, "Fortunately I am not the only wizard interested in muggle artefacts.  There have been several occasions in the past when certain members of Operations might have had a great deal of explaining to do if I hadn't indulged in a little, ah, creativity in my reports."

"Arthur!"  Molly exclaimed sharply, glaring at him, "I don't remember you ever mentioning this to me!"  For once Arthur stared back blandly.

"That's not very surprising, my dear," he told her, "Since I deliberately neglected to tell you the facts – on the grounds that I would likely have been hung, drawn and quartered on the spot!"  Molly's stern face faltered, wavered then broke into a puzzled, slightly hurt expression.

"Am I really that severe, Arthur?" she asked him in a small voice.

""Good heavens, no!" Arthur leaped to his feet, in utter surprise at her reaction.  He put out his arms and drew her into them, kissing the top of her head and murmuring sweet nothings into her ear.  "Molly, darling." He began, as soon as he could make sense, "If you weren't as strict as you are, there's no doubt I'd have been drummed out of the Ministry as a result of my tinkering many years ago.  It's just that on these few occasions, I knew I could benefit from being owed favours.  And this sort of favour deteriorates in direct proportion to the number of people who know about it.  Am I right, Lee?"

"Absolutely, sir!"  Lee knew where his best interests lay.  Finally releasing Molly and returning to the current situation, Arthur took charge.

"Now," he began, "My colleague in Operations, Caesare Brookes, is ready and willing to help, as are several of his assistants – Security Operatives, you know.  Serious muscle, to you and me!"  He looked about him vaguely.

"Where's Fred disappeared to?"  Lee coughed and when Arthur turned to him, held out the owl message wordlessly.  Arthur read the message together with Fred's hurried scrawl, and his expression became grave.

"I should have suspected as much." he muttered, crumpling the parchment unseeingly.  He gathered his thoughts.

"There's nothing we can do in Iran." He said decisively, "Fred will have to deal with that one, and I'm sure he will cope admirably.  Now, let's get … Hermione, my dear!  How lovely to see you.  What brings you here so early in the morning?  Not more bad news, I hope?"  Hermione gave a small, brave smile, kissed her father-in-law on the cheek and began to explain once again the substance of the enigmatic, worrying message from her husband.  Arthur was nodding.

"Well, I believe I have more than enough cause to act." he stated, his jaw setting stubbornly, "My son and his closest friend are on Ministry business and have sent out an SOS.  If I have cut corners in order to get to them as quickly as possible, so be it."  Abruptly, the cavalry arrived in the shape of four burly-looking men in fatigues and desert boots.  The tallest of the four stepped forward to grasp Arthur's proffered hand warmly.  His grey eyes glinted with impatience.

"Glad to see you've decided to take the unicorn by the horn, Arthur." He said, "Been hearing rumours for months about this mission.  Never liked the idea, you know.  Never could see the point."

"Yes, thank you, Caesare." responded Arthur, his mind on other things, "Now, did you bring a Portkey, or will we all have to apparate?"  Caesare Brookes smiled and held up something that resembled a worn leather glove.

"This was the only one available." He said, slightly apologetically, "But I tuned it to Sirius Black's HQ before we left.  All we have to do is activate it."  Arthur nodded, throwing his worn black cloak around his shoulders and slipping his wand into a sleeve pocket.

"Very well." he said, "Let's go!"

"Wait!"  Seeing what was about to happen, Lee leaped forward.

"You can't leave me behind – not after all I went through to isolate the information!"  Arthur looked at him steadily.

"It could get nasty, Lee." He told him, "It might involve violence, maybe even loss of life.  Are you sure you want to get involved in something like that?"  Lee nodded emphatically.

"I've known Harry and Ron forever." He said simply, "I'd feel like I was running out on them if I just stayed here twiddling my thumbs."  Arthur nodded slowly.

"Very well." he responded.

"And you can just think again if you imagine you're leaving me behind."  The voice was Hermione's.  Arthur stared in astonishment.

"Now, my dear Hermione," he began, "Taking Lee with us is one thing, but I hardly think that exposing a young Lady to a potentially dangerous situation is a good …"  Hermione was having none of this.

"With respect, Mr. Weasley, rubbish!" she responded, swiftly.  "Ron is my husband, and I think that gives me the right to be with you on this."  Arthur gazed at her sympathetically, then moved to take her by the shoulders.

"Hermione," he began, gently, "I love you like a daughter, you know that.  Ron is your husband and that gives you the right to follow him wherever he may go – but how do you think he would feel if you were injured – or even killed?  How do you think I would feel?  Do you think Ron would ever be able to forgive his incompetent old father for allowing his wife, the most precious person in the world to him, to put herself in danger?  And with the best will in the world, Hermione, all the people here are Ministry employees in one way or another.  We know what we are letting ourselves in for.  You, on the other hand, do not."

"Lee isn't front line material, and neither are you."  protested Hermione stubbornly.  Arthur smiled.

"Perhaps you are right, but neither of us will distract Ron's judgment in a situation of danger to the same extent that you would.  Please, Hermione – stay here with Molly and Ellen.  Don't risk yourself and Ron by insisting on coming with us."  Hermione raised her eyes to his face and read only love and concern in his eyes.  Her shoulders sagged in defeat and she lowered her eyes.

"Okay, okay.  I'll stay." she muttered, then looked up at him. "But you had better bring them back in one piece, you hear?"  Arthur smiled.

"You can depend on it, my dear." He replied, then turned to where Brookes and his colleagues were waiting.  All five wizards reached out to grasp the Portkey, Brookes could be heard counting, then abruptly they were simply not there any more.

****************************************************

They materialised in blazing sunshine on a dirt road some yards away from a small building.  A muggle pickup truck stood, badly parked, abandoned to one side, one or two other dust-covered cars could be seen further back.  There was no sign of life.

"Sirius!" shouted Lee, making for the door.  Arthur caught his arm and held him back.

"Steady, Lee." He said quietly, "Let the professionals get on with it – that's what they're here for."  As he was speaking, Brookes was deploying his forces wordlessly and with the minimum of fuss.  They spread out, wands at the ready, one sprinting around the back of the building to scout out possible exits, the other two checking the sides.  A few seconds later, the first wizard appeared around the side of the house holding up two fingers.  Two exits.  Brookes nodded tersely holding up three fingers, then he waved one of the others to follow and beckoned the third to join him.  Three minute rendez-vous.  They approached the front door cautiously.  Finding it unlocked, Brookes gestured to his colleague to cover him and burst in with no warning whatsoever.

Lee and Arthur stared at the open door, tension mounting.  As it happened, they did not have long to wait.  Brookes reappeared at the open door beckoning urgently.  They covered the distance at a run.

"He's here." The man told them, briefly, "But I'm not sure for how long."  The main room led through to a bedroom, rough and ready with little in the way of home comforts.  Stretched on the hard-looking bed was Sirius.  He was clearly unconscious, grey-faced, sweating and breathing heavily.  He was lying strangely, curled up with his knees hugged to his abdomen, and when they tried to move him into coma position, he resisted fiercely, shivering, and shuddering at their touch.  Automatically, Lee reached for a jug of water resting on the table next to the bed and poured some into a glass.

"Sirius," he said, softly, "Sirius, you should drink.  You have a fever."  Arthur was creasing his brow, frowning.  He looked at Brookes and shrugged his shoulders helplessly.

"What do you think, old friend?" he asked, "What is this?  Illness?  Ensorcellment?"  The other man was busy taking Sirius's pulse and temperature as best he could.  Lee abandoned his attempt to get Sirius to drink and made as if to put the glass down when something struck him.  He sniffed, sniffed again, then brought the glass to his nose.

"Mr. Weasley," he began, a frown beginning to gather on his face.  Arthur waved him away.

"Not now, Lee."

"Mr. Weasley," he insisted, pushing the glass towards him, "Just take a sniff at this."  Arthur looked at Lee then dipped his head and inhaled slowly, a look of puzzlement creeping across his face.

"Strange," he muttered, "Some sort of – contamination, do you think?"

"Hey!  Don't touch that!"  They both turned their heads as Brookes, having paused in his examination of Sirius, grabbed hold of the glass and set it back on the table.

"But Mr. Brookes," protested Lee, "There's something odd about that water.  It smells strange."  Brookes paused.

"Strange smell, eh?" he repeated, "Some sort of muggle toxin, perhaps?  There's no sign of any magical interference in the place, no trace of ensorcellment on his body.  I wonder …" he trailed off, moving back to Sirius and bringing his nose close to the other man's face.  He sniffed curiously at the rasping breath and wrinkled his nose.

"Garlic." He muttered, stepping back. "O'Malley!" he barked, "Check the water supply for interference."  One of his colleagues immediately ran into the kitchen.

"If my nose is correct," he began, "Then this is arsenical poisoning.  Well done, young man, for spotting it.  Sirius Black may be luckier than he knows – I am the only muggle poisons specialist in the Ministry, probably in the country.  And I've developed some reasonable antidote charms.  Arsenic, for example, usually requires some kind of purgative in the muggle world to rid the system of its presence.  Sometimes an emetic, sometimes a stomach pump, if the patient is not too far gone.  Give me a few minutes to set the charm properly and I'll remove all traces of that group of toxins from his system."  Brookes walked away, weighing his wand in his hand and muttering.  O'Malley, the wizard sent to investigate the water supply, returned and, glancing warily at Brookes, decided to report to Arthur instead.  He held out a polythene bag containing small canister.

"I found this in the water tank, sir." he said, "It's a slow-release device.  Judging by the amount left in it, it was probably put in there about a week ago."  Arthur nodded his thanks and turned to Lee with a grim expression.

"So someone arranged for Sirius to be slowly poisoned, eh?" he began, "And with a muggle poison that we were extremely lucky to be able to identify so quickly.  Why?  What did Sirius know that was so important he needed to be silenced?"  He began to search Sirius's desk systematically, looking for something, anything that might shed some light on the current situation.  Suppressing a faint pang about invasion of privacy, Lee's eyes fell upon a small pile of computer printout sheets.  Curious.  What would Sirius be doing with something like that?  Scanning through them, he realised, with a shock, that these were muggle police reports.  Curiouser still.

"I reckon I've got it." Brookes had returned to Sirius's bedside.  He raised his wand, frowning with concentration, and a faint mist started to flow from the tip.

"Purgatio venenum corporalis prorsus mandatum." he murmured.  The mist grew thicker and flowed inexorably towards Sirius's still form.  As it reached him it divided into separate streams like tentacles, reaching out to different parts of his body, partially obscuring him from sight.  As they watched, the mist seemed to change colour, turning a vague sickly green and, amazingly, the expression of pain seemed to lift from Sirius's face, his body relaxed and a deep sigh was heard as he sank into a deep, genuine sleep.  The mist hovered briefly then dissipated into the air and Brookes sagged with relief and exhaustion.

"That'll do it." he told them, "He won't need to be hospitalised.  Of course, he'll feel a bit wrung out for a few days, but nothing to what he could have been going through.  A few more hours, and – well, at least we caught it in time, that's the main thing."  He turned towards O'Malley.

"And what do we have here then, my old son?"  He took the canister in its plastic protective wrapping and frowned.  When his eyes met Arthur's, they were murderous.

"A coward's trick." He said quietly, "We're looking for someone who works behind the scenes, I think.  But why?"

"This might have something to do with it, Sir."  Lee's face was pale and he was holding the Police reports.  Brookes took them and began to read, Arthur looking over his shoulder.  Their eyes met.

"Well that's it then, isn't it?"  Arthur turned and paced the floor, shaking his head. "If the Ministry had only thought to check this out thoroughly …"

"Then Harry and Ron wouldn't be in the terrible danger they are currently."  The voice was weak, but still a going concern.  Arthur turned to find Sirius sitting up, deathly pale, weak and unsteady but alive!

"What happened?" he asked.  Arthur tried to push him back down, but Sirius was having none of it.  He shook him off, wincing at the effort.

"Have you traced Ron and Harry yet?" he demanded, weakly.  Brookes shook his head.

"We've only just managed to save your life." He replied pointedly.  Sirius shook his head.

"I wasn't the prime target." He grated, "I only merited one of her little schemes because I knew too much about her.  Even then, I didn't know the half of it until I read those reports.  Together with the information from the New York Wizarding Agency – well, it didn't take a genius to see why I had to go.  Unfortunately, I didn't know how she was doing it, and when I realised it was poison, it was too late."  Brookes came over to him.

"You are speaking about the guide, Katia Valentin, are you not?"  Sirius nodded.  Brookes pondered.

"Can you give us the information in a nutshell?"

"I certainly can."  Ignoring protests, Sirius sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, shaking his head against the dizziness which threatened to overwhelm him.  O'Mally hesitated, then handed him a water canteen.

"It's okay, sir." He said, with absolutely no humour, "That one was filled in England."  Sirius gave him a brief grin, then sank half the contents at one go.

"She's wanted for murder by the muggle authorities." He explained, "She's also been identified as an associate of Lucius Malfoy and implicated in many crimes perpetrated by the Dark Side.  "Katia Valentin" is merely an alias – she's known as Lilith, and she's a very powerful witch.  She's genuinely half-Mexican, which is presumably why she was given this job, but her mother is reputed to have been Veela.  I can't vouch for the truth of that, but I can personally attest to her use of Veela magic."  He winced, not solely due to physical pain.  He started to edge his way off the bed.

"Very well, Sirius." Arthur moved towards him to offer help if necessary, "Now, we need to get you somewhere safe.  Just give us Harry and Ron's location and we'll take care of them.  The important thing is to get you out of the line of fire."  But Sirius was shaking his head.  He stood up shakily.

"No way." He said quietly, "I have unfinished business with that homicidal little piece of ass, and I intend to make sure it's finished – one way or another."

"Sirius, be sensible!"  Arthur knew he was fighting a losing battle but, for goodness sake, the man had practically been on his deathbed!  Sirius grinned at him, looking more and more like his old self.

"Take your pick, Arthur." He said, lightly, "Take me and the location – or whistle for both of us."  Arthur sighed: he knew when he was beaten.

******************************************************

The kitchen at The Burrow seemed suddenly very empty.  Ellen and Hermione looked at each other and then at Molly who pursed her lips and shook her head.

"Men's business," she said, dismissively, "But I can certainly understand why you wanted to go, Hermione.  I'm just glad Arthur had the sense not to take you."  Hermione sank down in a chair, her head in her hands.

"I just don't know what to think." she said, without looking up, "This morning everything's just as normal, researching precedents, constructing arguments.  Then suddenly I look up, Ron's in the fireplace and the whole world has been turned on its head.  Molly, what on earth is going on?"  Between them, Molly and Ellen explained as best they could.  Hermione sighed.

"Molly, do you think I could be very cheeky and ask you for some breakfast?" she said, with a famished look at the empty plates and cups the men had left behind them, "I started work very early this morning and I haven't yet had a chance to get outside any food yet."  Molly jumped to her feet.

"Goodness!" she exclaimed, "Where are my manners?  I clean forgot you might be hungry too.  And I suspect Ellen could do with a little more, couldn't you dear?"  The blonde witch smiled ruefully.

"At the risk of being thought greedy, yes please!"  Molly busied herself with the pots and pans and soon the delicious smell of frying bacon permeated the kitchen.  Ellen looked at Hermione curiously.

"Would you mind answering me a question?"  Hermione raised her eyebrows and waited.  Ellen continued.

"We've met only once before, I believe – at Harry's House, yes?"  Hermione nodded.

"Yes," she replied, "Ginny said Harry had spoken to Fred about their need to fill the house a little after I left, and Fred had suggested you might like to take a look."  Ellen nodded.

"That's right."  Her pretty face creased into a frown, "Look, I don't quite know how to put this but – why weren't you surprised to find me here this morning?"  This time Hermione's eyebrows almost reached her hairline.

"I mean, you didn't ignore me or anything – don't get the wrong idea." Ellen became aware she was babbling, "It's just that you delivered that incredibly important message from Ron in my hearing without a qualm.  I think, in your position, I'd have wondered, probably out loud, why I was here."  Hermione stared at the other girl for a few moments longer, then allowed her face to crease into a very small, smug smile.

"If I was going to be totally infuriating," she began, thanking Molly for the place of eggs and bacon that had just appeared in front of her, "I would say that I trust the Weasleys and anyone who is present in The Burrow must be whiter than white."  She took a healthy bite of sausage and paused to chew with evident enjoyment.

"Are you going to be totally infuriating then?" Ellen asked calmly, letting her own plate remain untouched for the present.  Hermione finished her mouthful, then laughed.

"If I was a couple of years younger I think, yes, I probably would.  But it loses it's entertainment value after a while when all your friends are seriously fed up with your continually being a smartass – sorry, Molly."  Fortunately, Molly was attending to the dishes and apparently had not heard.  Hermione chewed and swallowed another succulent mouthful then caught Ellen's eye and smiled.

"I'm sorry to be a party pooper, but I'm afraid I caught on to Fred's little game right from the start." she said, slightly shamefaced, "I was quite sure you were there for a purpose – it all happened far too conveniently for any other explanation.  I thought the purpose was to safeguard Ginny while Harry was way, for whatever reason the Ministry considered necessary.  I never imagined Fred was playing a solo hand, nor that you weren't strictly a Ministry employee.  By the way, with regard to Fred, are you a source, are you his partner, or are you what I believe is known as an alongsider?"  Ellen choked on her tea.

"Good grief!" she exclaimed, "You make me sound like something out of a muggle spy story!  Hermione, I'm a colleague of Fred's – no more, no less.  I'm his interface into the muggle business world.  I provide him with information he needs – nothing sensitive: I am, after all, employed by my company – and in return, he gives me a certain amount of useful stuff the Ministry think should trickle into the muggle business world.  It's a symbiotic relationship – but it's purely business.  We're friends, yes, and we know each other very well after so many years, but it's never gone any further, and it's never likely to."  She sat back in her chair.

"I guess I could be described as an alongsider at that." She mused, "If I'm caught doing anything improper or illegal, it's my problem – the Ministry isn't involved.  I merely work 'alongside' Fred, not with him."  She smiled grimly.

"I guess I'm not as good as I think I am." She said regretfully, "I thought I had all of you fooled."

"Well, you certainly fooled Lee."  Hermione forked the last of her bacon into her mouth and sat back with a satisfied sigh.  Ellen sighed too, but for other reasons.

"Yes, I did." she agreed, her smile fading.  Suddenly, she wasn't hungry.

A small noise from the fireplace attracted their attention and both they and Molly Weasley gasped as a small redheaded figure climbed slowly out of the grate and stood staring.

"Ginny!" exclaimed Molly, rushing to her daughter's side, "Oh, Ginny!  You must have heard!  It's okay, darling – your father's summoned reinforcements and he's gone to help them.  They'll be alright."  Ginny didn't seem as though she was taking anything in at all.  She looked dazed, preoccupied, almost as though her thoughts were not her own.

"Sit down, dear." After hugging her daughter's unresponsive body, Molly urged her down into a kitchen chair and set about putting the kettle on to boil and the frying pan back on the heat.  Hermione reached out for her friend's hand.  It was as cold as ice.  She shot a worried look at Ellen which the other girl returned.

"Ginny," Hermione tried, "Are you alright?"  At the sound of Hermione's voice, Ginny jerked and seemed to wake up.  She turned wide, startled eyes on her friend, looking like a deer caught in headlights.

"Hermione?" the word was whispered.  Hermione grasped her friend's hand tightly.

"Yes, it's me, Ginny." She replied, "Whatever has happened, you're safe now."  She took the unresisting girl into her arms and held her, trying to impart some warmth to her body.  She turned worried eyes towards the blonde girl.

"Ellen, could you get a blanket or something." She said, urgently, "I think she's in shock."  Ellen nodded and rose from the table.

"Ginny," began Hermione again, "Ginny, what has happened to you?  Please, you must tell me or I can't help you, none of us can."  Ginny was quiet for a long moment, then mechanically she reached out for Hermione's mug of tea.  There was a long pause, during which Ellen returned with a crocheted blanket.  She draped it around the red-haired girl's shoulders and sat down next to her.  Molly quietly pushed a second mug of tea and a plate of toast in front of her daughter and looked into her face worriedly.

"What's wrong with her, Hermione?" The other girl shook her head, completely at a loss.  Ginny gave a sudden shudder and dropped the empty cup on to the table.  The noise seemed to rouse her.

"Hermione?" she said again, "Ellen?  But I wanted to get to The Burrow!"

"This is The Burrow, Ginny." Hermione explained gently, "Your mother's here, but everyone else has gone – well, they've been sent somewhere on Ministry business."  Ginny stared at Hermione for a long time, then she quietly began to eat her breakfast. 

The meal seemed to bring Ginny a little more to herself.  Her hands stopped shaking, a little colour returned to the pale cheeks and her eyes became rather more alive, although their usual sparkle was noticeably absent.  Once she had finished her meal, she was looking altogether more like her usual self.

"I'm sorry," she buried her face in her hands and sighed deeply, "I've been – a bit confused.  Nothing that a few nights' unbroken sleep won't help."  Her mother looked anxiously into her face.

"Are you sure that's all, dear?"  Ginny nodded wearily.

"Too much hard work and partying, burning the candle at both ends.  Success has gone to my head."  She smiled ruefully, "Seriously, Mum, I'm okay for now.  I need to rearrange my life a bit – you know, take a little more time out.  It's no big deal."  Molly didn't look entirely convinced, but Ginny had said enough to satisfy her, at least for the present.  However, Ginny had other ideas.

"Hermione," she said urgently while Ellen and her mother were clearing away the dishes, "I know I'm not making much sense at the moment, but I really need to talk to you – alone."  Hermione considered.

"We could go for a walk in the garden." She offered, "We could go check that the perimeter gate is closed – would that do?" Ginny nodded, obviously holding her control by a fairly slim margin.  Hermione approached Ellen and talked with her in low tones.  Ellen nodded twice and turned back to the dishes, engaging Molly in gentle conversation about houseplants.  Hermione went back towards Ginny and took her arm to help her from the chair.  Seeing the movement from the corner of her eye, Molly turned to address her daughter.

"Oh, Ginny, no!" she exclaimed, "You really should stay sitting, or even lying, down in case you have another strange turn.  You may look a little better, but you can never tell."  Ginny gave her a wan smile.

"It's okay, mum." She replied, "Hermione and I are going to take a slow walk in the garden to check the gate is closed.  I promise I won't do anything strenuous, and we won't be long."  Molly remained far from convinced.

"Well, if you're sure." She returned, doubtfully.  Ellen tactfully initiated a conversation about Wizarding Radio and successfully distracted her long enough for the two girls to make a tolerably swift exit.

After ten minutes of slow strolling and desultory conversation, Hermione was beginning to wonder why Ginny had asked her to come outside.  The weather was not looking wonderful – rain clouds were beginning to gather on the horizon, and a nippy little breeze had sprung up.

"I'm sorry, I don't know any subtle way of beginning this." Ginny suddenly began in a rather high, panic-stricken voice.  "I've been – I've been ensorcelled."  Hermione's jaw dropped.

"Ensorcelled?" she responded, "But how – how do you know?  And how strong is the spell?"  Ginny swallowed convulsively.

"It was Marcus." She began in a low voice.  Hermione's lips set in a thin line.

"And what sort of spell did he use?"

"A – a love potion."  A gasp.

"An illegal ensorcellment?  How in Merlin's name did a musician get hold of something like that?  Good grief, Ginny.  That's a very serious allegation."  The red-haired girl was nodding her head miserably.

"I know, I know." She moaned, "I've been such a fool for not spotting it in the first place."

"The ensorcellment?  But how could you have?"  Ginny was shaking her head violently.

"No, not the spell – Marcus!"  Hermione felt as though she had opened a 365-page crime novel at page 200.  She took a deep breath.

"Ginny, don't you think you should explain a little more clearly?"  Her friend nodded and swallowed nervously again.

"Hermione, Marcus Torrence is – is Draco Malfoy."   There was a long silence.

"Malfoy?"  Hermione breathed at length.  Ginny was nodding furiously.

"Yes, yes." she insisted, "He used a glamour, but he forgot to adjust it to take mirrors into account.  I spotted his reflection in a window, and I challenged him.  I should never have been so foolhardy, but he already had me under his influence, so I guess I was partly responding to the spell even then."  Hermione took another deep breath and took her friend by the shoulders.

"Ginny," she said slowly and carefully, "Begin at the beginning and tell it through like it was.  Don't stop and don't leave anything out.  I don't care if we have the mother of all thunderstorms out her – just tell me!"  Ginny nodded, wide-eyed, and began her story.

Most of the basic outline Hermione already knew.  Ginny had been free with her opinions when she had been working with Marcus, and Hermione had most often been the whipping boy when she chose to vent her spleen.  However, the events of the past few hours eclipsed everything either of them could have imagined.  Ginny closed her eyes and remembered …

*********************************************

Her overwhelming recollection was one of total, overriding passion.  It was a hunger so intense it seemed to blot out everything else, everyone else in the world, but at the same time, it was oddly empty, soulless, without any genuine object.  Having experienced one matchless passion in her life, Ginny was aware that what she was feeling now was false, but the knowledge did not give her power: no, almost the opposite.  As Marcus – no, Draco had begun to touch her, a devastating wave of desire almost obliterated any capacity for coherent thought.  All that was left in her mind was Draco – the heat of his body, the scent of his sweat, the taste of his mouth.  She tried to gain control of her mind by fixing her attention on something – anything – other than the effect Draco's kisses and caresses were having.  She thought of the recording studio and big, bluff Ernie MacMillan, she thought of Hermione and lunch at Giovanni's, she thought of Ron and Harry in the Mexican rainforest – nothing worked.  She tried again: Harry's smile when he looked at her, the touch of his hand, his face during the throes of passion.  Whoa, bad idea.  The distraction had only served to take her mind off the hook, allowing her body to take over – and had it ever!  She and Draco seemed now to be trying to climb inside each other's clothes, tearing at buttons, zippers, covering every inch of exposed skin with hands or lips.  He had manoeuvred her into his bedroom and pushed her down on her back against a clean, though unmade bed, falling heavily over her body in his frenzy to get at her.

His lips travelled feverishly over her face and neck and further, as if he was trying to map out her body by touch alone.  She dragged her fingernails lightly over his shoulders and down his spine, making him arch into the caress and groan with unexpected longing.

"Ginny," his voice was ragged in her ear, his hands moving rapidly, "Gods, what you do to me!  It – it's not supposed to be like this, I'm not supposed to feel …" he broke off suddenly, levered himself away from her and stared uncertainly into her face.  Ginny, too far gone to care, could only moan in protest at his withdrawal.  She reached mindlessly for him, but he resisted, gazing at her with a mixture of puzzlement and horrified disbelief.  Caught like that – pliant at the peak of arousal, clothing in disarray, tantalisingly open to him – she was achingly beautiful.  Draco should have thanked his lucky stars that his long-planned task was a pleasant one and gone to it with a will.  Instead, he found himself hesitating on the edge of success, wavering on the brink, something preventing him from fulfilling his destiny.  Ginny opened her huge, bright eyes and fixed them on him purposefully.

"Make love to me, Draco." she whispered, and he gasped as a sudden rush of anticipation went straight to his groin.  Then with a brutal emotional wrench, he turned his head away.

"I can't do this." he muttered, climbing off her prone body, "The Devil help me, I can't do it!"  He snatched at the zip of his trousers, reaching for his discarded shirt.

"Draco?"  Ginny's glassy gaze now held puzzlement.  She made no attempt to straighten her clothes.  "Draco, aren't we going to …"

"No, we're not!" he shouted, his throat so tight with tension he could scarcely get the words out.  Impatiently, he thrust his shirt into the waist of his trousers and started to search for his shoes.

"But Draco …" Ginny, still mesmerised, sat up from the midst of the tangled bedclothes.  Draco turned to her irritably and jerked his eyes away from her body.

"For Pete's sake, get dressed!" he barked, "You'll regret it if you don't."  He strode out of the bedroom and returned moments later with his wand.  Ginny had not moved in the interim.  He shrugged and gritted his teeth.

"Don't say I didn't warn you." He muttered between his teeth and raised his wand.

"Finite incantatem." he declaimed quietly, put the wand away in a sleeve pocket and walked out of the bedroom. 

For Ginny, it was as if a mist she had previously neither seen nor felt had suddenly been lifted.  She knew down to the last detail what she had done and also what she had been about to do.  She had vivid memories of the driving emotion and lack of control, the unquenchable craving for Draco's body, his touch, his kiss – but she could no longer feel it.  She was free of the spell – free!  She made as if to get up off the bed and get the hell out of Draco's flat while the going was good, until she realised her state of undress.  Colour flooded her face as she hastily refastened hooks and buttons, and straightened her hair.  She stood in the bedroom listening.  A few faint sounds told her Draco was in the kitchen.  She could just walk out and he would be none the wiser.  Carefully she padded feather-footed through the hallway and took hold of the latch – it was unlocked!  She was about to open it and bolt in search of a place she could safely apparate from, when she paused and looked back.  Grateful as she was for the reprieve, why had Draco nullified the enchantment?  Why hadn't he gone ahead and enslaved her as he was supposed to?  What sort of punishment awaited him for failure, and who was he responsible to?  She shook her head in bewilderment and, mentally calling herself seven kinds of a fool for taking the same risk a second time, she took her hand away from the lock and went back down the hall in search of her would-be captor.

She knocked on the kitchen door.

"Draco?" there was no answer.  She pushed the door open and stepped into the kitchen.  Draco was alternately packing various items ranging from racks of potions bottles to saucepans into several large cardboard boxes, and taking large gulps from a mug of hot coffee.  He looked up as she came in, blue eyes glittering with a curiously naked expression.

"Why are you still here, Weasley?" he snarled, throwing a small cauldron, a fork and an electric toaster into a box together, "You're free from the spell, I haven't harmed you, so why don't you just go home to Potter and forget all about this."  She shook her head.

"You know I can't do that, Draco." She replied softly, then nodded towards the coffee pot, "Could I have some of that?" He glanced at the pot and shrugged.

"Help yourself."  She located a mug and filled it, going to the fridge for some milk.  She leaned against the counter sipping the coffee, which was surprisingly good, and wondering what on earth she was doing here.  She should be miles away by now, thankfully celebrating her lucky escape.  She shrugged and looked at the man who would have been her master.

"Draco, do you mind if I ask you something?"

"Fire away." Without looking up, "Don't expect me to answer them though, and even if I do, don't cry if they're not to your liking."  She quirked her eyebrows and sighed but it would have to do.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm packing, what does it look like?"  A flash of anger, "I can't stay here now – you not only know who I am, you know what I am as well.  I'm not so trusting that I believe you'll keep quiet about this – for old time's sake."  Biting sarcasm, but Ginny didn't allow herself to rise to it.

"How did you cast the spell?  You said it was in two parts and that I had been under your influence for quite a while.  But I really only remember responding to it after you – after you kissed me for the first time."  Draco paused in his packing and leaned on the table, finishing his coffee.

"You had been primed for that weeks ago." He told her, "The spell works mainly by using a potion, but it's a rather strange one.  Once it's fully fixed, there's no antidote, but until then, it behaves like a charm or a hex –it can be deactivated very easily, as you just saw.  My touch – sweat or saliva, whatever – provided the chemical to activate the potion.  A mutual exchange of touching and – other chemicals, shall we say, would have fixed the spell, forever."  He sneered at her.

"You were taken before you even knew who Marcus Torrence was." He boasted, "I put the stuff in your coffee the first time we met."  Ginny went back in her memory to that first meeting at Wizarding Radio – recognising Justin, meeting the others, her argument with Octavia over whether it was a good idea or not.  Octavia?  Wasn't it Octavia who set this whole thing up?  Her eyes suddenly bright with enlightenment, she turned back to Draco.

"And did you concoct the potion, or did you need Octavia's help for that?"  She held her breath.  Draco made a rude noise.

"Octavia?  Octavia couldn't brew a decent cup of coffee, let alone … " he stopped, his eyes wide with shock.

"You tricked me." he whispered in outrage, "Get out of here!  Out!  Out, now!"  Ginny shook her head.

"One more question, Draco." He was really rattled now, she was likely to get the truth.

"Why didn't you screw me back there in your bedroom?" she stared innocently into his eyes, "I mean, I was practically begging you for it, never mind the fact that you had been working towards that very object for weeks.  Now, I have no illusions as to my physical charms, but I am at least young, slim and attractive enough for stage work.  In other words, not totally repulsive, whatever your particular likes or dislikes.  So why?"  Draco smirked.

"Just don't fancy you, Ginny, that's all.  Sorry and all that, but that's life."

"Rubbish!"  Ginny was angry, "After all that planning and flawless acting, you're not going to make me believe that when push came to shove, you just couldn't deliver?"  Draco swelled with anger.

"How dare you?" he hissed, "I have no problem on that score, I can assure you.  No problem at all!"

"Then what?"  He looked away.  She caught him by the shoulders.

"Draco, look at me!"  Reluctantly, he raised his eyes to hers.

"Now why?"  said gently, without anger, without blame.  Draco took a breath, opened his mouth to speak, then sighed in exasperation and twisted free.

"I didn't expect you to be – like you are." he told her almost angrily, "When we were at school, you and your brothers, and Potter – always ganging up on me."  Ginny was astonished.

"Malfoy, as I remember, it was always you who started it.  Remember the business with Rita Skeeter?  You actually engineered that little scam."  Draco was shaking his head.

"You had allies, Weasley," he shouted, "You had a big, protective family all around you.  I had no-one – just Crabbe and Goyle, and they only supported me because I'm a Malfoy.  They looked on it as an obligation!"

"Maybe that's because you couldn't be bothered with anyone you considered your inferior!" she lashed back, "If you'd been kinder to people, they'd have been kinder to you!"  She stopped, puzzled.

"Malfoy, what's this got to do with our current situation?"  She watched the anger drain out of Draco's face and he looked away.  When he next spoke, it was in a much quieter voice.

"I thought I'd feel just the same about you as I had at school." He began, "I assumed I'd hate you because of your family, your mudblood-loving sympathies, your relationship with Potter." He almost spat Harry's name out in disgust, then he raised his eyes to hers, the blue of clear autumn skies, high and rare with a hint of frost.

"I didn't expect to like working with you." He said softly, "I could never have imagined how much I would enjoy rehearsing with you, discussing the music, talking together.  I never anticipated that you would stimulate my imagination and my intellect the way you did.  I didn't expect to like being Marcus Torrence."  There was a pause, then he shrugged.

"But that's all over now, finished." He said briskly, "The band can find itself another male vocalist – I hope he's crap!"  But Ginny was looking pensive.

"You spared me just out of pity then?" she asked him, staring thoughtfully straight into his face.  Draco's eyes flickered, his mouth worked, then abruptly he pulled out his wand and pointed it straight at her.

"Stupefy!" he declaimed, then darted forward to catch her before she fell.  With a strength at odds with his slender appearance, Draco carried Ginny back into the bedroom, settling her on the bed and throwing the quilt over her to keep her warm.  His hands lingered just a little too long as he tucked the bedclothes around her.  He snatched them away impatiently.  Without a backward glance, Draco left the bedroom.  A very short while later, No. 4 Mendacium House, Mornington Crescent betrayed no sign whatsoever that Marcus Torrence, or indeed Draco Malfoy, had ever existed.

*********************************************************

"I should have seen it coming." Ginny sighed and briefly rested her forehead in her hands. "When I woke up, it was only about half an hour later, but he'd systematically stripped the place and gone.  I couldn't even get a Tracer Charm to stick."  Hermione was silent for a moment, processing all this startling information.

"Is that everything?" she asked, sensing a slight tension in her friend.  Ginny shifted her feet awkwardly.

"Well, not quite." she replied, in a subdued tone, "There's this."  She held up a small item and placed it carefully on Hermione's outstretched palm.

"It was lying on the pillow next to me when I woke up." she explained, "I'm not sure what it is – whether it's anything more than it appears, I mean – but I don't think it's dangerous."  Hermione looked up from examining the object.

"How can you be sure of that?" she demanded.  Ginny shrugged.

"Call me soft and sentimental if you like," she said quietly, "But I think it's a peace offering." She reached out her hand and took the object, putting it quickly into her pocket.  Hermione was about to protest, but Ginny broke in to her thoughts before she could give that one voice.

"Why didn't he finish the job, Hermione?" she whispered, "I put myself in his power, and I unmasked him.  Surely he can't think I'll keep silent about his identity?"  Hermione gave her a very old-fashioned look, but wisely decided to hold her tongue as one glance at her friend's face told her she was very close to breaking point.  As she looked, Ginny's lower lip began to tremble with reaction.

"Oh, this is all so horrible!" she began in a choked voice, "Just when everything seemed to be working out beautifully, the world gets turned on its head again.  And what's happening to Harry?  And Ron?  I've been so wrapped up in my own affairs, yet again, that it's only just penetrated: if I've been under attack because of this mind-bond thing that Harry and I have got going, then he must be in danger too!"  Hermione's face must have given more away than she had bargained for.  Ginny's eyes widened.

"They are in danger, aren't they?  That's why Daddy's gone to Mexico!"  Hermione put her arms around Ginny.

"It's okay – they'll get to them." She soothed, "Sirius hasn't answered calls for more than forty-eight hours, so they've had to go to him first to find out what's going on, but we should hear later on."  Ginny's face told her friend that very little of that had been taken at face value.  Abruptly, Ginny buried her face in Hermione's shoulder and sobbed.  She raised her face to the sky.

"Harry!" she called, miserably, "Harry, where are you?"  In agony, "Harry!  Harry, please!" 

And in her mind, infinitely soothing, infinitely calming, came the familiar mental presence, fleeting but firm:

"I'm here, Ginny." It said, "I'm coming home!"  And she believed him.

********************************************

Oh, for Merlin's sake, get it over with!  Ron could only believe that Katia was stringing out his demise to force him to grovel.  The conviction overcame all thoughts of fear, replacing them with anger.  He opened his eyes, straightened his spine and stared her in the face, determined to deny her the sadistic pleasure she seemed to draw from watching him crawl.

"What are you waiting for?" he shouted, his voice rather higher than usual but still strong, "You've finally got me at your mercy.  You can't risk keeping me alive, you know I've got nothing left to lose.  Get on with it!"  Katia smirked as Ron's voice finally shook, betraying his fear.

"So brave, so courageous!" she purred silkily, "Yet death still holds as much terror for you as the lowest, meanest coward.  How does it feel to know you are going to die in the next few moments, Weasley?  That your body will be tossed in the nearest bog to be gnawed by crocodiles until all that is left of you is a few disconnected bones?"  Ron was silent.  At his side, Harry stirred, shaking his head in confusion, trying to make sense of the last few minutes.  Katia kept her attention on Ron.  Still smiling, she moved a step towards him.  Her bodyguards moved with her, still pointing their wands at Ron, awaiting the final command.

"So look where all your fine upper-class education, your ancient, pureblood family, and your much-vaunted auror training have got you now, eh?" she mocked, "Bested, defeated by a mongrel, a no-good, illegitimate freak, a half-breed, outcast by my own people, the spawn of ignorance and an ill-considered love charm!  Well, I have shown them I was someone to be reckoned with.  My powers are so strong that were you to challenge me, I could crush you with a single spell!"  Ron kept his eyes firmly on Katia and concentrated on keeping his face rigidly still, but at his side he could hear the same curious hissing sound Harry had made earlier in their trip, just outside the Lost City.  Hope flooded through Ron like an Enervating potion: Harry was speaking to the snakes, summoning them, asking for their assistance.

"But you never had any formal training." Ron replied, desperate to keep Katia's attention on himself, "How could you have developed such power as you claim without assistance?"  Katia spat at him.

"You think your way is the only way to power?" she shouted, her eyes flashing dangerously, "The best and most powerful teachers do not bury themselves in schools, they are out in the world, waiting to be found by those who want to learn.  I found my teachers, and I learned well."  Keeping his eyes fixed on the woman in front of him, Ron nevertheless could sense rather than see careful, stealthy movement in the trees behind Katia's two bodyguards.

"Who were these teachers, then?" Ron asked, aware that his play for time was all too transparent, "I've never heard of anyone more powerful than Albus Dumbledore, and he did indeed chose to 'bury himself' at Hogwarts."  As he spoke, the movement coalesced into a number of large, gleaming, black coils, descending smoothly, silently down the trunks of the trees.

"Dumbledore?  Hah!"  Katia gave a derisive laugh, "A pathetic, muggle-loving fool who could have been great if he'd fixed his sights on an empire more worthy of attention than a mere school!"

"Dumbledore was the greatest wizard of his age!" Ron shouted, genuinely angry now.

"Then why is he dead?"  Katia's sneering tone stabbed back at him, "In the end, he was defeated through his compassion – a stupid weakness which … What?  What is happening?"  Working with consummate co-ordination, the silent coils in the branches revealed themselves as two very large boa constrictors which abruptly fell on Katia's bodyguards, effectively immobilising them amidst terrified shouts and screams.  Katia turned in indecision, momentarily at a loss.  Ron seized his chance and quickly groped at his belt for the small sling he had purchased in Bogsworthy & Trunks an eternity ago, or so it seemed.  Stooping for pebbles for ammunition, he took careful aim at the first bodyguard and let fly, bringing the evil wizard down with one blow to the head.  Without pausing to examine his handiwork, he took aim at the other struggling man and successfully despatched him in similar fashion.  Katia, who had been debating the best method of killing the snakes without harming her allies, was absolutely furious to see them knocked unconscious before she could help them.  Almost beside herself with rage, she turned upon Ron and raised her wand again.  This time there would be no messing about – she meant business.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."  The voice was Harry's, and it contained just enough sharpness in the tone to make her pause.  There in front of her were two black snakes.  They were smaller than the boa constrictors, but their lack of size was more than made up for by their threatening attitude and obvious fangs.

"Coral snakes." Harry explained in a didactic tone of voice, "You might remember meeting one of them before.  Extremely venomous, even to witches.  Two of them means that if you take out one, the other will get you.  And unfortunately for you, Katia, I have the only antivenin."  The woman paused briefly to consider her situation, then lowered her wand in defeat.  The look she directed towards Harry made Ron shiver in his shoes.  He remembered the Veelas they had seen at the Quidditch World Cup the summer before their fourth year at Hogwarts and how they had reacted when their wishes had been thwarted.

At that moment, the clearing suddenly seemed full of people.  Ron became dimly aware of his father and Sirius arriving with a number of khaki-clad companions who immediately took charge of the situation.  Caesare Brookes deployed his men quickly, barking orders, sweeping the area for further danger and, finding none, quickly trussing up the two unconscious bodyguards.  Katia was still being menaced by the coral snakes, until Harry spoke to them gently, thanking them greatly for their help and allowing them to depart back to their homes.  Brookes disarmed her, returning Harry's and Ron's wands to them, and placed a pair of handcuffs over her wrists.  Arthur approached Ron and Harry with, to their amazement, tears in his eyes.  He hugged both of them roughly.

"I thought we'd lost you," He said in a choked voice, "And we almost lost Sirius too."

"It was thanks to you, Arthur, that I survived the experience." Sirius broke in to add his greetings to Arthur's.  He gave them each a searching look.

"You weren't the only ones to fall foul of Miss Valentin."  Sirius walked over to where two of Brookes's men were guarding Katia.

"I've had previous encounters with this creature," he began, "I won't call her a lady, because she isn't.  It's only recently I started to seriously suspect that she might be something other than she represented herself."  With a swift movement, he seized her by her hair and pulled until their faces were inches apart.

"You're in the pay of Lucius Malfoy, aren't you?" he said, quietly, menacingly, "You always were, right from the start.  That's where you got your training – through him, through the Dark Side.  Isn't that right?  Isn't it?"  He shouted, yanking her hair even harder when she refused to answer.  Scowling fiercely, she spat in his face.  Sirius abruptly let her go and groped for a cloth.

"Leave her, Sirius."  Arthur quietly proffered a handkerchief, "She's no good, you know.  Rotten to the core."  Sirius nodded, wiping his face, but his eyes were bleak.

"I've known her a long time." He said bitterly. "It's hard to believe she was always in the pay of the other side.  I'm surprised I've lasted this long, I should have been dead years ago on her past record."  He sighed and handed the handkerchief back to Arthur, looking into his face.

"Thanks." He said sincerely.  Arthur smiled, patting him on the back.

"You're very welcome." he replied then, squaring his shoulders, he turned back to the group who seemed to be awaiting his instructions.

"Okay, everyone." He said wearily, "Let's go home."