A/N: When we last left Harry, he was hot on the trail of the mystery woman he saw on the way to the Weasleys. And I promise, by the end of this chapter he'll finally meet her... Thanks to those of you who've patiently waded through the first sections to get to this point.
Superlatives fail me to adequately thank my beta-reader Wotan, but suffice it to say I'm once again in his debt!
CHERCHEZ LA FEMME 3: Vicissitudes
The routine questioning of Mr Borgin wasn't going at all as Harry had planned. Borgin refused to answer any of their questions and so far Ginny had transfigured several shop items into rats by way of retaliation. Borgin turned livid with rage as he watched his former merchandise scurry away.
"Why don't you just answer my colleague's question?" Ginny asked in a bored manner as she stalked around the small shop, idly inspecting various pieces.
Borgin kept his eyes on her wand, which now veered near one of his new acquisitions. "I don't have to answer anything. For your information I fully intend to lodge a complaint with the Ministry for your reckless and abusive treatment of an innocent citizen."
"Innocent?" Ginny paused in her motions and flicked her eyes coolly up and down at Borgin's cheaply tailored robes. "I doubt your own mother ever called you innocent."
Sweating, Mr Borgin lunged out of the line of fire and attempted to hide behind the counter. Just as swiftly, Ginny aimed for the quill that hovered near Borgin's till - "Incendio!" A jet of flame shot from her wand straight for the quill. Harry braced himself for another scene of destruction yet Ginny halted the spell at the last possible second and turned again to Borgin. "I am always in perfect control," she hissed. "But give me a reason and I won't be so careful next time."
She turned on her heel and the door banged shut behind her. Harry glanced at the nervous proprietor. "We'll be back," he said, annoyed that Ginny's amazing display had left him unable to think of something more threatening to say, then hastened after Ginny.
"Who was your mentor at the Auror's Institute - Mad Eye Moody?" he demanded once outside. "You just broke almost every rule we have, and you're not even close to being off probation yet!"
A smile came to Ginny's face. "Mad Eye? What makes you say that?"
But Harry refused to be amused. "You share an eerily similar style. You both shoot from the hip, for one thing, and seem to have little regard for established procedure."
"Whereas you, of course, are known for your love of rules. Now tell me again - why didn't we respond promptly to that departmental memo?"
"That was different."
Ginny stopped walking and snapped, "Yes, it's always different for you, isn't it?"
Harry glared at her for a moment before his features relaxed and he said gruffly, "You were really good in there. You do have amazing control of your spells, I'll give you that. You're just - " he shook his head "- different to how I remembered you. I never really thought of you as being tough like that."
Ginny stared back. "I know." Then she turned and resumed walking. "I did grow up with six brothers, two of whom are George and Fred. You learn a few things, being the youngest."
After instructing Ginny to check out some other places in Knockturn Alley, Harry returned to the office and owled Cho Chang, asking to meet her later in the week.
**
Harry hadn't seen Cho in several years, but regularly heard her on Wizards Wireless Network, where she worked as a news presenter. Although the Daily Prophet journalists had come up with little more than conjecture and the increasingly sensational stories reported by various members of the magical community, he hoped Cho might have heard something that might give him a clue as to the girl's identity.
He looked up from his seat as Cho entered the café. Just as she had in their schooldays, Cho had the effect of making people stop and look twice when she entered a room. It wasn't just her beauty but her presence, so intense it could fill a small room all on its own.
"Hi, Cho. Thanks for meeting me." Harry drew out a chair for her.
"Good to see you again." Cho smiled at him. "How've you been?"
"Oh, you know ..." Harry gestured with his hands and trailed off. He never knew quite how to answer that question, given his line of work. "Fine," he said at last.
Cho looked at him with amusement. "That good, eh? What have they got you working on now?"
"Crime syndicates, preventing world domination by evil forces, the usual."
"I see you still have your flair for small talk," Cho observed. She studied the menu. "Hungry?"
Harry shrugged. "Not terribly." He glanced at his watch; it was three o'clock, hardly lunchtime.
"Watching your girlish figure? Well, I'm starving - I don't keep very regular hours," Cho announced and when the waiter came by she ordered a triple-decker sandwich.
"So what did you want to talk to me about?" she asked, munching with gusto once her sandwich arrived.
"I suppose you saw the headlines earlier this week - Mysteries of St Mungo's? I'm trying to find that girl." He quickly explained his encounter with the mystery woman weeks ago, and how his attempts at tracking her had all failed.
"I did read about that. Maybe she's a pontianak," smiled Cho, sipping her drink.
"A what?"
"Pontianak. It's a specific kind of female vampire. Women who've been seduced and abandoned by men come back to haunt them, live off their blood. The particularly vengeful ones lure the men to their deaths." When she noticed Harry looking askance at her she added, "My grandmother said when she was a girl people saw them all the time."
"She did seem upset," Harry admitted.
Cho grinned. "I hope you haven't broken some girl's heart. She could be after you."
"Not even a chance." Harry frowned. "So what else do you know about these pontianaks?"
Cho shrugged. "Not much. Some of them just live as ghosts and don't do the blood-sucking thing. Prefer to haunt the guy and make his life a living hell. What else...they can turn into owls -" she was about to continue but Harry cut her off.
"They can what?"
"Owls. They can turn into owls. Why? Did you also see an owl that night?" Her playful expression turned to more genuine concern.
"No." Harry slowly shook his head. "But I heard one, right before she appeared. And her hand was ice-cold, just like a ghost."
"Why would someone haunt you?"
"Not me. She said someone had treated her badly, someone in London, I think. She was desperate to get here."
"But you also said she'd escaped from St Mungo's. My grandmother never said anything about pontianaks being held captive in asylums. They pretty much roam as they please."
Harry remained silent for a moment. Was it possible he'd met a ghost, or a vampire? She hadn't seemed evil, and Harry had seen more than his share of evil creatures, human or otherwise. "Well, thanks for the information," he said at last, making himself smile at Cho. "I guess I'll have to take my chances with her."
But Cho wasn't as amused. "Seriously, Harry. If she is a pontianak -"
"Don't worry about it. Really." He placed a friendly hand on her arm. "And if you could avoid mentioning your pontianak theory to anyone the entire Auror division will be in your debt. All we need now are more sensational headlines."
Cho gave a philosophical shrug. "Don't worry about it. You're lucky to have caught me in town. I'm about to go on assignment to cover the warlock convention in Prague. Big topic is whether they'll support the push for membership in the Magical Union."
"I'll listen for it on the Wireless news."
"I should hope so." Cho picked up her bag and shot a sly smile at Harry. "You know, Lavender Brown works for Wizards Wireless, too, now."
"Oh?"
"Yeah, has the Lonely Hearts Chat. I'll tell her I saw you." Cho stood up and Harry followed suit.
"Erm, thanks." Harry blushed despite himself. The last thing he needed or wanted was advice from Lavender. He wondered if she giggled every time she dispensed a piece of love wisdom to her listeners. "It was good seeing you again, Cho. Take care."
She gave him a quick hug. "Thanks. You too."
Harry watched her walk down the street and turn the corner, but he remained near the doorway, thinking. He didn't know anything about these creatures Cho had described, but he knew someone who would. Pulling on his cloak, Harry strode purposefully out the door and towards the Institute for Runic Studies.
**
Long shadows fell across the pavements as Harry crossed Russell Square. A few brittle leaves blew by in the stiff winter breeze and Muggles wielding mobile phones marched past. Harry hurried to the massive complex that was the British Museum, but instead of heading for the ticket desks presented himself at an unseen entrance near the illuminated manuscripts. He flashed his wizard reading card and the elderly attendant nodded him in.
Harry muttered a password to a statue and the seemingly solid wall shimmered, allowing him to pass through it. Behind were the labyrinth offices of Runic Studies.
"Can I help you, young man?" Harry glanced down and beheld a slightly hump-backed, intimidating-looking older witch.
"I'm here to see Hermione Granger."
The witch scowled up at him. "Do you have an appointment?"
"What? Er, no. Just tell her my name. She'll see me." Harry smiled what he hoped was a charming smile.
"Can't let you in without an appointment." The elderly witch had already turned around and began walking away.
"Wait!" Harry jumped after her. "It's important I see her."
"Ms Granger does not like to be disturbed."
"Look, could you please just tell her Harry Potter is here to see her? We're old friends -"
The witch interrupted him. "Harry Potter?" She inspected him more closely. "Why didn't you say so in the first place?" Still muttering to herself, the plump witch waddled back towards the offices, indicating that Harry should follow.
He walked with her down a narrow corridor. At the third door, the old woman paused, turned the knob and leaned inside. "Harry Potter to see you, miss."
"Thank you, Miss Throckmorton." Harry heard Hermione's voice but couldn't see her until the door swung open wider.
"This is a surprise!" Hermione put down her quill and stood up. Her eyes looked a little bloodshot from hours of reading, but a big smile filled her face. "What brings you here?"
"Got a minute?" asked Harry.
Hermione glanced at her watch. "Actually, it's almost time to go home. Not that I usually leave on time, but seeing as it's you. . .."
"Thanks." Harry reached over and plucked her winter cloak from the hook on the door. "Ready?"
"Just give me a minute to finish up." Hermione sat down again and resumed her writing. Harry used the time to glance around the office. Unsurprisingly it was piled high with books, most of them neatly arranged on shelves that reached to the ceiling. A large stack sat at Hermione's desk and he noticed her in-tray was overflowing with parchment. Some things never changed.
"Okay." With a flourish, Hermione rolled up the scroll and locked it in her desk drawer. "Ready."
Harry helped her into the cloak and the two of them walked down the corridor together and past the front desk. "Goodnight," said Hermione to her secretary and to the elderly wizard at the main desk.
"Early night for you," commented the man, smiling at Harry.
"It's Harry Potter," rasped the old witch behind him.
"Oh?" The man's white eyebrows went up. "So it is, Miss Throckmorton, so it is."
With a rueful smile, Hermione took Harry's arm and they pushed through the wall, back out into the Museum.
"There's a tea shop around the corner from here," said Hermione, leading the way.
"Fine." When they were settled and had a pot of tea brewing between them, Harry explained what Cho had told him. "Do you know anything about these creatures?" He concluded. "And do you think our mystery woman could be one?"
Hermione looked thoughtful. "I've heard of the pontianak, yes. But I haven't heard of one being sighted in Britain recently. They're more common in Asia, the Malaysian peninsula to be exact. As for one appearing here - an interesting post-colonial legacy. You said when this girl touched you she was cold, but solid?"
"Yes. If she's a ghost, she's the most solid one I've ever met."
"Hmm. But vampires can be solid. And you did see her at night. If she could change shape, it would explain why she just seemed to appear out of nowhere, and how she could vanish without a trace."
"That's true." It didn't explain why she would have been at St Mungo's, but maybe she had been haunting that place as well. Somehow, Harry didn't feel very relieved at the prospect of figuring out at least part of the woman's identity. Pontianaks didn't sound like very happy souls.
"So how do you catch them?" he asked.
Hermione poured them both some steaming tea. "That part's easy. Just find whoever wronged her. She'll be nearby."
"Easy? Hermione, there are millions of people in London. How am I going to find the one man who crossed her?"
"Well, you come across a lot of unsavoury types in your work. Make a list. Who's treated some poor girl horribly and thought he got away with it?"
"That's hardly going to narrow the field."
"Do some research, then. See if any cases were reported in the news about a bad breakup, a girl getting killed. You said she's about our age?"
Harry nodded. "Yeah."
"Personally, I'd put Malfoy at the top of my list. If I recall correctly he had quite a reputation as heart-breaker, but wasn't his whole family bundled off somewhere after all those Death Eater trials?"
Harry made a face. Being unable to send Lucius Malfoy to Azkaban was a lingering source of frustration to him. "Yeah, his parents are in a witness protection programme. Supposed to be getting new identities in exchange for giving evidence to the Ministry to prosecute other Death Eaters."
Hermione couldn't suppress a smile. "Sounds quite a job, trying to give Lucius Malfoy a new personality and identity that will allow him to blend with the rest of society."
"This is going to take forever," groaned Harry, wishing he'd asked Cho if the news bureau had come across any particularly sensational murder cases lately. The prospect of searching through not just wizard news but possibly Muggle papers as well seemed daunting. "And if she is this...this thing, why would she need to wear that talisman?"
"Maybe she wasn't the one wearing it. Maybe she took it off the man she was haunting. If anyone would need a protection spell, it would be someone haunted by a powerful ghost or vampire. And believe me, pontianaks always get their man."
Harry had been looking aggravated but at this he grinned and said, "Sure you're not confusing them with the Canadian Mounties?"
"Be serious. This girl could be really dangerous. If she thinks you're trying to get in her way who knows what she might do?"
"I think I know how to handle an aggressive supernatural force. You sound like Cho, worrying about this pontianak girl. I have had a few years' practice dealing with the dark side, you know."
Hermione scowled. "Yes, I know, but you've also had more than a few close calls. Now think, is there anything else you know about her that would help us?"
Harry ran through his scanty information. "Everything's been a dead-end, right from the start. Sirius couldn't even ask about her at the Cleland Arms because -" He broke off and stared at Hermione in excitement. "That's it! Sirius never got to ask about her there because a vampire had just bitten some guy upstairs. Maybe that was the one she was looking for! She could have killed him first, then gone to Borgin," he added, thinking aloud.
"Harry, I think you'd better call in someone from the Misdeeds of Magical Creatures division. They're the vampire experts."
"But if she already killed him, why is she still roaming around?" Harry continued, ignoring Hermione's advice.
She snorted. "If she once worked at the Cleland Arms she's probably got a very long list of men she'd like to kill. Sounds like you should just hang out there for a while, see if she turns up."
"Good idea." Harry smiled across the small table at her. "We've always made a pretty good team, haven't we? Sure I can't tempt you away from the Institute?"
"Positive." Hermione placed a hand on Harry's arm. "You have your specialties, I have mine."
Harry glanced down at her hand. "So how's it working out for you, living in sin with Ron?"
Suddenly self-conscious, Hermione placed her hand in her lap but smiled at Harry's teasing. "It's fine. He's really quite trainable. Are you," she paused for a moment, "seeing anyone?"
"Nope. But Cho did happen to mention Lavender Brown is in town now." Harry tried to make his voice light, but if there was one person with whom he didn't want to discuss his private life it was Hermione. Even though it had been several years since their relationship ended, he hadn't dated anyone seriously since her. When he saw her with Ron, Harry sometimes wondered why he'd ever thought their relationship would work. But at times like this, when they worked out a problem together so effortlessly, he remembered how it once had been.
Hermione changed the subject. "Did I tell you I'm going to Dublin next week? I'm giving a talk at the European Society of Runic Studies conference."
She spoke rapidly. Bringing up their relationship made her uneasy, too. She'd never felt things would work out between herself and Harry, yet there had always been a strange, strong pull between them.
"Really? No wonder you're not interested in risking life and limb going after the more criminal members of our community," Harry replied. "There aren't any Auror conferences but it sounds a much better way to make a living, giving talks and getting all-expenses paid holidays."
Hermione pulled a face. "It's only one talk. And it's not all-expenses paid and it's really hardly a holiday - this is work. A lot of important scholars will be there, people who are much more established than I am. It's a little nerve-wracking to tell you the truth."
"I have complete confidence in you."
"Thanks." The two of them sat smiling at each other for a moment, then Hermione dropped her eyes and fumbled with her things. "I'd better go," she said, standing up. "I'll owl you when I'm back from the conference."
**
Hermione faced the gallery of people and glanced again at her pages of parchment. She hadn't expected such a big turnout for her talk, which was only one of many at the conference. She recognised several famous faces in the crowd, Rune scholars whose work she had cited in her paper, and hoped they'd approve of her interpretations. The moderator indicated it was time to begin and Hermione touched her wand to her throat and said "Sonorus" before beginning to read.
Following an involved question and answer session, Hermione at last made her way out of the meeting room. Before she had got past the doorway, however, she heard a familiar voice saying, "Miss Granger, could I have a word?"
Hermione turned and saw Minerva McGonagall, now Headmistress of Hogwarts. She appeared older than Hermione remembered her, but her face had an expression that was very familiar: one of restrained pleasure over Hermione's accomplishment.
"Of course, Professor. I didn't know you were coming to this meeting." Hermione squeezed past several wizards and out into the courtyard.
"Yes. I came specially to hear your paper. Clearly, I am not the only one who is impressed with your work." Professor McGonagall gestured to the dispersing crowd. "I had another purpose in coming to see you, however."
"Oh?" Hermione followed her former teacher through the corridors of the castle being used for the meeting and over to a quiet bench, where they both took a seat.
"You may have heard there will be a vacancy at Hogwarts next year in Ancient Runes." Professor McGonagall looked at Hermione, who shook her head. "Your name was suggested by several people as a possible replacement and after today's performance, I am sure the school would be even more delighted to have you."
"You're offering me a job? At Hogwarts?" Hermione blinked, trying to absorb this unexpected development. "But...don't they usually like teachers with a bit more, er, experience?" she asked delicately. Now she thought about it, she couldn't remember any teacher as young as herself.
Professor McGonagall smiled, as if guessing Hermione's thoughts. "Yes, ordinarily members of staff come to us after many years of work in their areas of specialty. But you always were a bit precocious, Miss Granger."
"I don't know what to say. Could I have some time to think it over?"
Professor McGonagall stood up. "Of course. I don't expect you to answer immediately. As I've said, the job wouldn't begin until the coming autumn. The salary is unremarkable, but you would have access to the finest library outside of the Runic Institute. And there are some younger staff members - I'm sure you know that Charlie Weasley is teaching Care of Magical Creatures now, and serving as Head of Gryffindor House. You may wish to speak to him if you have further questions. I, of course, am always available to you."
"Thank you. I'll definitely consider it. I just need to -" Hermione felt herself blush as she continued, "talk it over with Ron as well."
Professor McGonagall nodded. "Yes, I imagine you would want to do that. Pleasure to see you again." She held out her hand in an oddly formal way, and Hermione shook it. Watching her teacher walk away, Hermione wondered if she should have made more small talk, asked how Minerva liked being Headmistress, that sort of thing. But the unexpected offer had left her rather speechless, a condition Hermione rarely experienced.
Hermione had to admit part of her had always fancied the idea of teaching at Hogwarts. However, she enjoyed working at the Runic Institute, where she had uninterrupted research time. Going to Hogwarts would mean giving up a large part of that research, as teaching and other duties would require most of her energy.
Then there was Ron. Despite the fact that one of his brothers was at Hogwarts, Hermione suspected Ron would not be excited about the prospect of moving to Hogsmeade. He'd done a lot of work in the post-Voldemort trials, prosecuting dark wizards, and she knew the work meant a lot to him. Life in Hogsmeade was unlikely to offer such challenges.
And strangely, Hermione found her thoughts drifting towards Harry. If she and Ron moved to Hogsmeade, it would mark the first time the three of them had really been apart since starting school together fourteen years ago. With the exception of school holidays they'd been in each other's constant company - even after leaving Hogwarts. As she tried to picture herself teaching there, Hermione found it difficult to imagine her life without Harry nearby.
**
According to the thorough verbal report Ginny gave Harry, several people in Knockturn Alley had seen someone who matched the blonde's description hanging around Pander's Casino.
"And here are my notes," she finished, dropping the scrap of parchment on Harry's desk and heading for the door.
"Where are you off to so quickly?" Harry asked.
Ginny rolled her eyes before answering, "It is after six - Seamus is coming over to see my new place. It looks much improved from when you guys helped me move in. Besides, " she added with a grin, "I thought you told me you were going to get a social life. Running down leads doesn't count. Why don't you come over, too?"
"Thanks but running down leads, as you say, is as social as I'm going to get this weekend. Tell Seamus hello," smiled Harry and waved goodbye.
After she had gone, Harry studied Ginny's notes more carefully. Given the increasing media attention and corresponding pressure from the Ministry to find this woman, Harry was reluctant to waste any more time on dead-ends. He stuffed the notes into his pocket, threw on his winter cloak and headed outside. Ginny had a good nose for the truth, but before venturing to any casinos Harry planned to pay a visit elsewhere that evening.
Harry never enjoyed visiting Malcolm Baddock. Blond and insolent, he reminded Harry of a slightly younger version of Draco Malfoy and it was no secret their families had been close. Until Mr Baddock was sent to Azkaban thanks to Lucius Malfoy's information, that is. The Baddocks had lost everything but Malcolm had succeeded in earning back a great deal of that lost wealth, all the while managing to stay just this side of the law. If you needed to know the dirt on someone, Malcolm Baddock was the person to ask, and Harry knew he was not the only one to pay for Malcolm's information.
"Evening, Potter," drawled Malcolm on answering Harry's knock.
Without waiting for an invitation, Harry swept past Malcolm and seated himself inside. "I'm here about a girl," he began. "The one who's gone missing from St Mungo's." He ran over Ginny's information and looked to Malcolm for confirmation. "What do you know? Has she been at the casino?"
Malcolm's mouth moved upwards in what - on other people - might approximate a smile. On him it looked more like a grimace or at best a smirk. "What's it worth to you?"
Harry sighed and they began the familiar wrangling process over price.
"Must give you a fairly decent slush fund over at the Auror offices," commented Malcolm as he pocketed a small mound of Galleons. "Now about this girl. You'll find her at Pander's all right. Assuming they haven't tried to collect yet. Last I heard she had run up quite a tab. Better hope she hits the jackpot soon, Potter, or there won't be much for you to find."
"Thanks," grunted Harry and quickly stood up.
"Sure I can't tempt you to stay? I have some lovely single-malt you might enjoy," offered Malcolm.
"Good night, Malcolm," muttered Harry, already out the door.
**
"Hogwarts? You want to move to Hogwarts?" Ron stared at Hermione.
"I didn't say I wanted to move there, just that Professor McGonagall offered me a job." Hermione studied Ron, trying to read his face.
"Wow." He sat down on the sofa and shook his head. "But you're thinking about it."
"Yes. I used to think I really wanted to teach there, but it always seemed like something that wouldn't happen until so far in the future it wasn't worth contemplating."
"Charlie's there." Ron stood up again and paced back and forth.
"I know. We'd be the youngest staff members."
Ron stopped and faced Hermione. "Would you have to live in the castle?"
"No. She said some of the teachers have homes in Hogsmeade. And if you went with me," Hermione blushed, "I think that's what we'd want to do, get a place in town."
"Do you want me to go with you?"
"Ron! Of course I do." Hermione gave him an exasperated look. "But I realise it probably doesn't have much appeal for you, setting up an office in Hogsmeade, not after the kind of work you've done here. But maybe you could commute?" she asked hopefully.
"Maybe. Kind of long, though. Wouldn't be very convenient." He paced again, slower this time. "I never thought about setting up my own firm."
"We don't have to decide right away," Hermione told him. "It's a big decision."
Ron finally sat down. "But you want to go, don't you?"
"Offers like this don't come along very often," Hermione admitted. "Except for Defence Against the Dark Arts specialists."
Ron put an arm around Hermione and drew her head to his shoulder. "Next thing you know they'll hire Ginny for that post."
Hermione smiled. "Or Harry. That would be fun. Almost like old times."
"Yeah." Ron pulled her closer and kissed her through her thick hair. "As long as you're not talking about the old times involving only you and Harry."
"Ron! Honestly, you're the most jealous person I've ever met," protested Hermione.
"No, I'm not."
"You are." She pulled back a little and looked at him, the corners of her mouth twitching in a way that suggested she didn't really mind. "Remember how awful you were about Viktor Krum? And those stupid fights you had with Harry when he and I were dating - don't tell me you're not jealous."
"Oh yeah, Vicky." Ron laughed.
Hermione hooked one of her legs across Ron's lap and stretched back on the sofa. "Funny how things turn out."
"Yeah." Ron stroked her bare leg. "You must be cold, wearing only a nightgown," he said, giving her a look that - thanks to her years of association with Ron - Hermione was able to interpret as being suggestive.
She burst out laughing. Ron had never been very good at come-ons. "Why don't you just say you can't resist me?" she teased.
"Only trying to keep the romance alive."
Hermione withdrew her leg and sat up. Running her own hand up Ron's thigh she remarked, "It seems to be alive."
Ron jumped as her hand progressed further. ""Hermione! What's got into you tonight?"
Ignoring him, Hermione murmured, "Aren't you worried I'll catch a chill? Or is my well-being no longer of importance to you?"
Grinning, Ron took her hand and led her to their bedroom. They fell onto the bed together, much to Crookshanks' irritation at being disturbed so rudely from his sleep. Ears flattened, he gave a look of disgust that was completely lost on them and jumped off the bed, just avoiding Hermione's nightgown as it slithered to the floor. Twitching his tail in annoyance, the ginger cat trotted from the room.
**
After paying off Malcolm, Harry continued his investigation - alone. Ordinarily he would have brought Ginny, but after her display in Borgin and Burks he didn't want to risk bringing such a volatile presence into the casino. Goblins didn't react well to damage to their property and Harry didn't fancy taking on the security trolls who were sure to appear the first time Ginny tried to transfigure so much as a pair of dice. Besides, he still felt oddly protective of her despite their heated exchange earlier. Intellectually, he knew she could more than take care of herself but part of him still hesitated to bring her along to Pander's, and he knew this hesitation stemmed from more than simply a desire to avoid another display of Ginny-induced pyrotechnics. He just didn't want her to see places like the casino or meet people like Malcolm Baddock - at least, not until she absolutely had to.
A number of regulars stared when Harry entered the large gaming floor. Normally his presence meant someone was going to be taken away, but today he simply seated himself at an empty table and chatted with the goblin running it. The goblin nodded at Harry's inquiries and motioned him to another table, across the room.
The small crowd at the table vanished as Harry approached, but the goblin here seemed to be expecting him. He began shuffling a deck of cards and inquired, "Here to enjoy a game of cards?" His voice was smooth and whispery and sent a chill down Harry's back.
"I'm looking for someone," Harry replied, wishing Hermione were here to help him count cards, in case he actually had to play a hand or two. "A woman."
The goblin merely nodded in a polite way.
Harry pushed a likeness of the girl - the composite sketch that had appeared in the newspaper - across the table. "She look familiar to you?"
The goblin glanced down at the table and shrugged. "Very pretty. Worth losing money for, is she?"
"Maybe."
"You know, many ladies fall into difficulties here," began the goblin. "Perhaps your friend is also in trouble?"
Harry retrieved his picture. "If you know anything -" he began, but the dealer cut him off.
"It's terribly sad when a lady gets on a losing streak. Some stay all night trying to win back what they've lost. Yes, so sad," he repeated, shaking his head. "Because if they leave without paying up, well, you know what happens."
Harry did know. He'd cleaned up enough messes for precisely that reason, and he knew goblins wouldn't scruple to kill a woman if she owed them a lot of money.
"Are you a gambling man, Harry Potter?" inquired the goblin, now eyeing him slyly. Harry again felt a shiver run down his spine at the sound of the goblin's silvery voice.
"Obviously not."
The goblin's grin widened. "Perhaps you would risk it once? To help a young lady?" He tilted his head to the right, and Harry followed his glance to a very crowded table. The cluster of spectators almost hid her, but Harry saw a woman with very long blonde hair hunched over the gaming table.
Even from this distance and even seeing merely the back of her head, he knew this was the same girl he'd been searching for all these weeks. Feeling eyes on her the girl turned, saw Harry, and jumped up. With a terrified glance first at the dealer and then the hulking security troll near the door, she began running.
Harry shoved past goblins, trolls, and gamblers, trying to reach the woman before she disappeared again. She slipped out a side exit, setting off an alarm which resulted in numerous large, smelly trolls lumbering into action. Harry noted with disgust that the weak deodorising charms placed on the trolls did little to disguise their stench.
Pushing through the crowd he dashed outside into the alleyway. He looked up and down the street, searching for that distinctive hair. Spying something bright and light he sprinted ahead, knocking aside other passers-by in his haste. He reached out a hand and closed his fingers around the girl's slender wrist. She jerked around at being stopped, her expression both frightened and annoyed, but this quickly changed to wonder and recognition on seeing Harry's face. "Harry Potter," she said faintly, still staring at him.
Harry's hand remained tight around her wrist and he felt her pulse throb against his fingers. "You're not a ghost," he said at last.
"A ghost!" she cried and jerked her wrist from his grasp. "Why would you say such a thing?"
"Long story." Harry reached again for her arm. "Let's go somewhere a little quieter, shall we?"
Without waiting for an answer Harry propelled her down the remainder of Knockturn Alley, then turned towards the Leaky Cauldron, all the time maintaining a firm grip on her arm.
Tom, the ancient proprietor, nodded at Harry when they walked in. "A private room, please," said Harry, and without another word, Tom ushered them into a room at the back.
"And some tea, please," Harry added. After the evening's events he personally would have enjoyed a stronger drink but tea seemed the safer option.
"I guess I should thank you," began the girl, once seated. "That's twice you've saved me. If that's what you've just done," she added apprehensively.
"Relax. I'll take care of things with the casino. So it was you that night." Harry still couldn't believe it. "You - you really escaped from St Mungo's?"
The girl glanced around the room as if she feared being overheard. "You don't have to say it so loudly."
"I'm not." Harry stared at her for a moment, then stuck out his hand. "Harry Potter, by the way, but I guess you knew that."
She took his hand and for the first time, a hint of a smile appeared at the corners of her mouth. "I did. One of the few things I know."
Tom brought in their tea and both Harry and the girl fell silent. "Will there be anything else?" the wizened landlord asked Harry.
"No, thank you. If you could just, er, see to it that we aren't disturbed..." began Harry and Tom nodded in complete understanding.
When they were alone once more Harry asked, "What's your name?"
She began to look nervous again. "I have been kept under heavy memory charms and enchantments for years. The longer I am free of them, the more bits and pieces return, but I am afraid I recall very little - not even my own name."
"Okay." Harry paused, considering. "I don't suppose you want to tell me why or how you escaped from the hospital?"
She lifted the teacup to her lips and sipped before saying, "You suppose correctly."
Harry let out a sigh of frustration and leaned back in his chair. He knew he should be happy just to be in the same room with her, but so many questions flooded his mind.
"Why did you think I was a ghost?" The blonde asked, looking amused again.
"That night I first met you - your hand was so cold, like a ghost's. And then," Harry paused, feeling slightly ridiculous now. "A friend suggested you might be a pontianak - you know, a vampire come back to avenge betrayal by a lover."
She set down her teacup with a clatter and looked alarmed.
"But obviously you're not," Harry added hastily.
"Why do you care who or what I am?" she asked. "Why have you been following me? Why bring me here? What do you want, Mr Potter?"
Harry was taken aback. Now that she asked him, he wasn't quite sure. "I guess I care because you vanished so suddenly that first night," he began slowly. "I couldn't help wondering what had happened to you, and then I started learning bits of information about you and I just felt compelled, I guess, to find you."
"Compelled." She took another sip of tea.
"Yeah." He watched her drink, watched her slender fingers as they wrapped themselves around the teacup, her eyes darting around the room periodically. "Are you a witch?"
"I'm not a ghost, am I?"
"You didn't answer my question."
She shrugged. "How else would I be in Diagon Alley, or Knockturn, for that matter?"
"But when I first saw you - you didn't seem to have any idea how to get to London. I thought you were a Muggle."
"Did you!" she exclaimed. "Well, I suppose I might as well be, for all the magic I know."
Harry looked at her more closely and lowered his voice. "Are you - that is, are you a squib?" He choked a bit over the last word.
She met his gaze straightforwardly. "Again, I might as well be. I've been at St Mungo's for almost half my life - since I was ten years old."
"Half your life," echoed Harry. "Why?"
"I don't want to talk about it." She set down her cup and turned away from him.
"Well sorry, but I do want to talk about it." Harry knew he had no right to be angry with her but nonetheless he was losing patience. "Half the Aurors in London are looking for you - do you know that? The first night I saw you I also met up with several mediwizards in St Mungo's robes, but the St Mungo's chief of staff told the press his Hospital's never had a patient matching your description. So I think the least you can do is tell me why you spent all that time in the hospital, if you really did. Why were you there - why didn't you ever go to school?"
The girl swiveled in her seat so she faced him once again. She looked at him for several seconds, her large grey eyes studying his agitated face and resting for a moment on his scar. At last she said, "He did not wish it."
"He?" Harry looked at her blankly.
"Told me he was my benefactor, that I should feel grateful such a wealthy man had taken an interest in my case and paid for me to be treated at St Mungo's. As if there was ever anything wrong with me," she hissed and Harry noticed her eyes, which had seemed pale a moment ago now blazed with emotion. "Of course St Mungo's has no record of my being there. He made sure of that - paid everyone off very handsomely I'm sure."
"What about your parents? Did they think sending their daughter to St Mungo's was a terrific educational plan as well?"
"My father is dead and for all I know, my mother thinks I am dead like my father."
"I'm sorry." Harry studied the girl, wondering if she was telling him the truth. "Why would anyone do this to you?"
She stared into his eyes and Harry felt himself glance away at the intensity of her gaze. "I am that rarest of witches: a true Seer. His sole aim, ever since I reached an age to manifest my magic, was to isolate me from anything or anyone who could teach me. So he kept me at St Mungo's under the influence of heavy charms and enchantments which made certain I'd never be able to use my abilities. Except when he wanted me to."
Harry didn't respond right away. He was remembering when he was eleven, how Hagrid had come for him, how all those letters from Hogwarts had come for him. Surely Dumbledore had known, somehow, about a magical child's existence. Why would he allow her to remain at St Mungo's, especially if she was a Seer?
"Sorry." Harry finally took a swallow of his tea, only to find it cold. "So, this 'benefactor.' Do you know his name?"
A hard look came to the girl's eyes and her mouth tightened as she almost spat out the words. "Lucius Malfoy. That is one name I will always remember."
"Lucius Malfoy?" Harry repeated in surprise. "How do you know? Why didn't you tell me this immediately?" He reached automatically for his wand.
The girl noticed Harry's reaction. "I am telling you the truth. And you needn't worry I'll run away from you." She looked pointedly at his wand, and Harry replaced it on the tabletop. "I know because I was able to escape thanks to a helpful matron on my ward who felt sorry for me. She gradually eliminated all the potions used to restrain my powers and she never placed memory charms on me. Freed from those influences, I began to remember some things and she told me who was responsible for keeping me there. It was with her assistance I escaped."
"Why not return to your family? Surely you must remember them."
She shook her head. "I remember what they looked like when I last saw them. That was years ago. I don't even know where they live or if they're still alive. I had hoped I would find the man who gave me this talisman. He said to come to him if I were in trouble. That's why I came to London - I thought he might be here."
Harry felt himself growing impatient again. "I don't suppose you remember his name?"
"No. But I remember his face. His eyes, in particular, were very kind. Blue, always twinkling."
Harry stared at her. "Does the name Albus Dumbledore mean anything to you?" he asked slowly.
"Dumblydorr. Yes. That is his name."
"Dumblydorr?" Harry puzzled over her pronunciation. "But the only person who ever called him that was -" he broke off and furrowed his brow, trying to remember where he'd heard that before. "Madame Maxime? The headmistress of Beauxbatons? Where exactly are you from?"
Now her eyes seemed to be laughing at him in an oddly familiar way. "You are the one with a complete memory, not I."
She shrugged with a kind of dismissive elegance and watching her, Harry suddenly felt as if he were the one who'd had his memory tampered with. That gesture, and others from throughout the evening, reminded him of someone.
"Gabrielle," he said at last. "You're Gabrielle Delacour, Fleur's little sister."
