Disclaimer: It's all J. K. Rowling, as usual. Speaking of which, I'm suffering from withdrawal (there's only so many times you can reread Prisoner of Azkaban--I think I'm up to three hundred or so by now, and I've started on the fourth one yet again), so she'd better get a move on with the next book!
Author's Note: **sniff** My longest chapter yet, and nobody reviewed.... (blows nose loudly) I'll give you guys another chance, I guess. I'm proud of this chapter (except for the fact that I'm overusing the ellipses and dashes, but they're so useful)--it pretty much wrote itself, and I came up with a lot of new stuff. Several new characters and a surprise encounter with a rarely-seen character in the HP books, but one that is, of course, completely vital...no, I'm not going to tell you who. You'll find out soon enough.
You know, I'm really running into a problem. After writing about a character for awhile, you sort of start to get to know them...and I'm becoming rather attached to Peter. It's going to be difficult to turn him into a murdering, traitorous Death Eater. And James too--and I have to kill him and Lily, and send Sirius to Azkaban, and leave poor Remus all alone.
And my supporting characters, like Gregoram and McGonagall and those you'll meet in this chapter...I've got things planned for them that I'm not going to be too happy with.
But that's just the way life works out, doesn't it? And at least I don't have to kill Prongs for a bit.
Sorry this took so long. I'm trying to get out a chapter per week, and they're getting longer as they go (I'm going to try to reach the 10,000 mark, bringing me almost up past 50,000 words total!), but it's going to be difficult. Ever heard of the Youth Options program? It's this wonderful thing that lets high schoolers attend college classes...so, naturally, I'm in second year Calc. Yuck. It doesn't start for awhile, though, but I've got other classes to worry about, and I'm pretty much bogged down with school, etc. So anyway, I'm trying, people, I really am.
Just review. Please? You'd really make my day. I'm going to stop rambling now, so all you nice people can read my story.
Oh, a few things I forgot:
Does anybody have a complete list of the Departments in the Ministry of Magic? Here's a few I found on a website....
*Magical Law Enforcement; *Department of International Magical Cooperation; *Department of Mysteries; *Misuse of Muggle Artifacts; *Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures; *Magical Games and Sports; Committee on Experimental Charms; Accidental Magical Reversal Squad; Department of Transportation; Improper use of Magic Office; Goblin Liaison Office; and Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures.
Asterisks indicate the ones I'm sure are Departments as a whole, and not offshoots of another. I believe Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them mentions that there are seven departments, but I'm not sure. Anyone with more concrete information, please mention it in a review or e-mail me @ russianalias@juno.com.
Also, I've been informed that in Britain, there is no graduation after students complete their schooling...anyone care to elaborate? Is that true everywhere, or do some of you have some sort of ceremony? (I'm an American who's never been able to travel out of the country much--certainly not to Europe, though I'm hoping to next summer--, and I also have an unfortunate lack of practical info on other countries. Our school systems really don't teach us anything about that sort of thing.)
Sorry. You can read now, just had to put in my two cents. Actually, I think I'm up to about thirty by now. Read before I drive you all crazy.
Chapter Eight: Changing Times
"When is it permissible to use a tracking globe on a suspect?"
Sirius drummed his fingertips against the footboard of his bed, where he lay sprawled out among his notes. "Er--that would be--with the written permission of your head of department?"
James glanced at him from above his copy of the "Rules and Regulations of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement" and nodded.
"Yesss! I didn't think I knew that one."
"Hang on, there's more, and Crouch'll mark you down for partial answers."
He let out a long groan. "I give up, what is it?"
Remus looked scandalized. "You can't just give up like that! You'll never manage the exam if you quit halfway through every question...at least give it a try."
Sirius bit his lip and squinted sideways at James, who was still watching him over the handbook. "I don't know."
James sighed. "You have to inform the person being tracked--also in writing."
"I thought we were done with exams once we were out of Hogwarts," Sirius complained as he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. James and Remus were seated, respectively, in the chair pulled up to Sirius' desk (strewn, as usual, with books, papers, magazines, and various other odds and ends) and on the only clean space on the entire floor. "This is ridiculous. An exam every three weeks...what do they think they're pulling?"
"They're only making sure we're learning something," Remus said reasonably. "And look at it this way--you're doing fine in class, so even if you fail the written exam, you're probably going to do well on the practical part."
Sirius grunted and snatched his handbook up from the bed. "Your turn, James." He quickly scanned the page and found the most obscure bit of information there. "How long, at the minimum, does it take to process an official request for permission to use the Ministry's closed records?"
James screwed up his forehead in thought. "That's completely unfair, Sirius, but it's four weeks."
He let out a howl. "How can you possibly remember that?" Sirius demanded. "How can you possibly memorize every single bit of information in the entire handbook?"
"It's not that difficult, Padfoot, if you actually bother to read it once in a while...."
"We're out of school, for one thing, and for another, it's summer! I refuse to study."
"Your loss," Remus said, reaching for the glass of lemonade at his elbow. "At least we won't be the ones to be dismissed from Crouch's class only one exam into it...."
Sirius clambered to his feet and, in two long, practiced strides, made his way across the mess that formed a moat around his bed. "I'll get some more lemonade. You two keep on studying."
As he left the room, he shook his head once more in disgust. Really, the nerve...didn't Crouch have anything better to do than write exams for them every three weeks? Not to mention the fact that they'd been assigned nearly four hundred pages to read in an enormous volume they'd all been given, and the report on it was due the next week....
He wrenched the cupboard door open so hard that it slammed and rebounded off the wall. Sirius reached for the jar that sat on one of the shelves, labeled with a single, bright lemon on its side. He took off the cover and looked inside at the swirling, yellowish mist that filled it partway--they were almost out. His mother was rarely home, so using essence of lemon (as well as pork, chicken, apple, sausage, cheese, broccoli, and about a hundred other flavors) was much easier for them than actually cooking a full meal. "Fill me up a pitcher, will you? And make it cold." The sink gurgled in reply and began to spout a steady stream of water. Every few seconds came the plunk as an ice cube emerged from the faucet and fell into the water. When the pitcher was full, Sirius shook out some of the yellowish mist (which, slightly heavier than air, poured out easily) into it and stirred the mixture with his wand, which he then rinsed under the faucet and wiped on his robes. Remus and James might not consider this entirely sanitary, but he took good care of his wand, and it hadn't been stuffed into too many slimy, evil-smelling corners--at least not all that recently.
In any case, the ice-cold lemonade was delicious and refreshing on such a hot day, providing a wonderful respite from the studying they'd been doing for the past hour or so. Sirius had ill humouredly agreed to the study session after being told that they had exactly five days to prepare for the exam. Those five were now down to four, and he was still having difficulty remembering the restrictions placed on the use of Veritaserum.
He was just about to go back to his room when there was a loud bang! in the sitting room and somebody let out a muffled expletive. Another bang resounded throughout the house, and there was a dull thud and a crash. As he hurried down the hallway (lemonade slopping over the sides of the pitcher) he met a very confused James and Remus coming out of his room.
"What's going on?" James asked in bewilderment. "Did you blow something up?"
Sirius shook his head and rounded the corner into the sitting room. Two witches were half-sprawled on the floor, both in considerable disarray. One had black hair and deeply tanned skin, and her nose and chin bore a noticeable resemblance to Sirius' own. The other was young, had dark brown hair, and was probably one of the best-looking women he'd ever seen.
"Curse it," the younger witch said, sitting up with a scowl that did nothing to spoil her features--in fact, she looked rather nice, cheeks flushed with embarrassment and irritation, her full lips pressed firmly together.
"Hello, Mum," Sirius said blandly. The older witch looked up at him in surprise, pushing raven hair out of her eyes.
"Sirius...and James and Remus. That's right, I'd forgotten you were coming over. Hello, you three. This is Rowena Heckleburst, a colleague of mine. Rowena, my son Sirius, and his friends, James Potter and Remus Lupin."
Sirius offered Rowena Heckleburst a hand up, which she accepted with recovered dignity. "Thank you. I'm very pleased to meet you, and I apologize...." She looked down at the floor--the spot where she had been sitting was a smoldering mass of blackened carpet.
"Not to worry. It wasn't your fault," Merulla Black replied, accepting James' offer of a hand up, exposing an identical smoky patch.
"So," Sirius said lightly, "bad day at work? Did your boss get angry, and you decided to duck out of the situation?"
The two witches glanced at each other. "Not exactly," Rowena said, tossing her long hair over one shoulder and smoothing her stylish, forest green robes. Sirius noticed offhandedly that they set off her dark brown eyes (flecked with the same green color) to a distinct advantage. She grinned mischievously at his mother, exposing perfectly straight white teeth. "Although that's likely enough to happen next time we get into the office."
"You don't have to answer to him, though," Merulla said with an answering smile. "That honor's reserved for actual employees, not hangers on like yourself."
Rowena snorted disdainfully. "I could practically be on the payroll, you know, Merri. With all the help I give you poor souls...."
"Enough of that. What are you boys up to?"
"Studying."
"In the middle of the summer? I thought Merri said you'd graduated."
"We did," Sirius said heavily. "But now we're in Crouch's training program, and we've got an exam in a few days."
"Going to be Aurors, are you?" Rowena asked, raising her eyebrows. "Well, maybe you three can whip things into shape at the Ministry before the Death Eaters have us all answering at their beck and call."
Merulla shot her an exasperated look. "You know perfectly well we're doing all we can. Even in my department."
"What is that, exactly?" James asked curiously.
"Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures." Her expression remained bland, but her eyes were locked for an instant with Remus'.
"And where do you work?" Sirius inquired of Rowena.
"Until recently, I've worked with the Guild."
" What 'Guild'? " All three were mystified.
"You wouldn't have heard of it and would probably find it boring. Anyway, I'm not with them much longer--Albus Dumbledore's hired me for the next year."
"Really? What class are you teaching?"
"I'm taking over Defense Against the Dark Arts for part of the year."
They all stared at her. "What about Professor Gregoram?" Remus asked finally.
"He needs some time off every once in a while," she replied evasively. "He's doing some extra work for the Ministry...it takes up a lot of time, and Albus thought he could use an assistant professor."
Remus appeared to be doing some intense thinking. "Crouch was upset with him a while ago, because he didn't know about--about--" He broke off, as though suddenly remembering that the Azkaban situation was classified.
"The dementors, you mean?" Miss Heckleburst said in amusement. "Barty was a bit aggravated, yes, as I recall."
"Well, does that have anything to do with this?"
"Whether it does or not, it's none of your business," she said with a definite air of finality. "You'd better get back to studying--Crouch's exams aren't easy, from what I've heard." She and Sirius' mother disappeared into the study.
"What Guild was she talking about?" James asked after a moment, staring after them.
"And what were she and Mum doing, that they came home so suddenly?" Sirius mused. Another thought struck him. "And why are we unlucky enough that she comes to teach the year after we graduate?"
Remus grinned across Sirius to James. "Looks like ol' Padfoot's getting a bit star struck, doesn't it?"
"Of course not," Sirius said instantly. "Sure, she's incredibly good-looking, but she's got to be at least in her mid-twenties."
"Practically decomposing by now," James said with a snort of laughter.
"Well, even if I am...only a bit, mind you...a bit attracted to her, which any normal person would be, I'm certainly not the only one with my head in the clouds." He gave Remus a meaningful look. "Of course, I'm not referring to anyone present...but there's a certain somebody with a date this Wednesday, unless I'm very much mistaken...."
Remus coughed loudly, and James said defensively, "It's not a date, exactly...it's just a dinner. Between friends."
"If you say so." Having exacted his revenge, Sirius grinned and relented. "Come on, you two, if you want to finish drilling me on that confounded handbook."
They proceeded to do so, and Sirius spent a good two hours wracking his brains and trying to stump James and Remus while he was at it. He finally managed to completely befuddle Remus over a tricky question about illegal curses, and, in the heat of his triumph, announced that they were now going to take a break for a few games of Periclista, a game which he almost invariably won. It was a complicated card and dice game, also involving a game board and several markers for each player. He'd already managed to move one of his markers to the opposite side of the board merely fifteen minutes later. The three of them were now discussing the mysterious Rowena Heckleburst.
"What d'you think that Guild is?" Sirius wondered aloud. "It probably has to do with fighting the dark arts, considering that Dumbledore hired her. She must have plenty of experience with that sort of thing."
"But why was she helping your Mum? And what does her department have to do with the Death Eaters?"
"Dementors aren't the only nonhumans the Death Eaters use for their purposes," Sirius said darkly. "There've been plenty of loose trolls and dragons rampaging the countryside lately, though the Ministry's tried to hush it up. Mum's been working overtime practically every day for the past few weeks, trying to keep the Muggles from noticing and the monsters from killing people."
"And now the Ministry's bringing in outsiders to help them," Remus said thoughtfully. "You know, I'm sure I've read about a Guild somewhere, but I don't remember exactly...the book had something to do with potions ingredients, I think, but that doesn't make much sense...."
"Potions ingredients--wait! I just remembered, Mum wanted me to go into Diagon Alley and pick up some unicorn dung for her fertilizing potions. I'll have to go now if I want to be back by the time she gets home."
"See you at the Ministry building this afternoon, then," Sirius said as he rolled the dice. They landed on a four and a six, causing Remus to groan loudly in despair over his hand of cards and his previous roll. "Floo powder's in the jar by the fireplace, unless you want to apparate!" he called as James left the room.
"Your roll," Sirius said contentedly as he moved his marker forward. Remus frowned down at the board, then took the dice and threw them.
"Double threes!" he exclaimed in satisfaction. "That'll beat your ten any day...twelve points...and I'll put out a nine and a three." He laid those cards down in front of him, adding them to the piles he already had. "And that's five moves for me." He pushed one marker ahead three spaces and another two. "Your turn--let's see you beat that!"
Sirius did so. "Double fives, Moony. Twenty points. With this jack here, that gives me a full straight...."
Remus groaned and laid down his cards. "Forget it, you win. As always. We need to get back to studying anyway."
"Can't we do something else?" he asked plaintively.
"Tell you what," Remus said with a smile, "I'll keep playing with you, but only if you can tell me three reasons why higher-level stunning charms can be dangerous to the spell caster--"
"You've made your point," Sirius said grumpily. "Where's that handbook?"
An hour later, Remus had nearly half the packet practically memorized, and Sirius could remember the names of every person subjected to the Dementors' Kiss in the last two centuries. Sirius had already pointed out that they weren't likely to need to know that, but Remus just said it couldn't hurt; Crouch seemed to enjoy asking impossibly difficult, or trick, questions.
"So," Remus asked after awhile, "does your Mum usually bring home friends like that?"
"Not usually," Sirius replied regretfully. "It'd be nice if she did, wouldn't it?"
"You aren't actually attracted to her, are you? I mean...."
"Nah, not really; it was just a good lead-in to annoy Prongs. She's gorgeous and all, but like I said, she's got to be nearly ten years older than we are, not to mention the fact that she's my Mum's friend. I mean, really...."
"But Lily considers Vivian a friend, doesn't she?"
"I suppose so...that's not the point. Speaking of Lily-" His grin quite obviously conveyed some sort of mischief in the making. "I found out exactly where they're going for dinner Wednesday night--and when."
"So?"
Remus looked up at him reluctantly, suddenly realizing where this was going. "What're you going to do, Sirius? It's their first date, give them a break."
"Oh, it's nothing much...just a little idea I had...." He explained quickly, in a low voice.
"Sirius, honestly," Remus said, shaking his head in amusement. "So, Polyjuice again, or do you have something else up your sleeve?"
"We'll come up with something. And don't let me forget to tell Peter--he'll want to cut in on the fun, too."
"Sirius, you really are the most devious...."
His voice trailed off in exasperation. Sirius grinned.
"Thank you."
********
When Peter walked into the Ministry offices that afternoon (thirteen minutes late and counting), there was a distinct feeling of anxiety in the air.
The few people he passed in the corridors didn't stop to chat, or even wave hello. When he opened the door marked "Abuse of Muggle Artifacts Offices", wincing slightly in expectation of the reprimand he'd receive for being late, there was no reaction whatsoever. Arthur Weasley's office door hung ajar, as did their Head of Department's, Balbus Ebriel. "Mr. Weasley?" He moved forward to Weasley's door and looked inside.
"Sir?"
The red-topped head bent over his desk jerked up with a start. "Pettigrew!"
"What's going on, sir? Everybody seems worried about something...."
Weasley swallowed nervously, fiddling with the stack of parchments he'd been looking through. "Well...there's a meeting of all the Department heads going on right now. That's where Balbus is."
"What's the meeting for?"
Weasley looked down at his shoes. "Not allowed to say. You'll find out soon enough, unless the meeting goes on forever. There's no question in my mind, though, that--never mind."
Peter stared at him. "There's something wrong, isn't there." The older man nodded. Peter swallowed.
"Just get to work, Pettigrew. I'll let you know when we're supposed to find out about the meeting."
"Er...sir?"
"Yes?"
"I'm late...." Weasley looked at his watch.
"It's all right. There's reports that need filing on your desk."
Half unable to believe his luck, and half frightened at what could possibly have everyone so upset, Peter went to his office and sat down at the desk. As Arthur had said, there was a stack of papers there...and something else. A letter, with his name written on the front--in blue ink that he'd seen before. With a thrill of hope, he inserted a finger into the slit and opened it, unfolding the parchment and holding it to the light.
Dear Mr. Pettigrew,
We would like to thank you again for applying to our Auror Training Sessions. Unfortunately, we still do not accept those with scores lower than 80% on the exams. However, there is another job opening in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement that may be of some interest to you. We are informed, by your mentor, Mr. Mundungus Fletcher, that you have a quick grasp of detail and are extremely observant, and have a vacancy in our Justice Administration department. We need a secretary for the courts and a temporary assistant for some of our public lawyers (as you may know, the courts have been filled with cases lately, and it is becoming difficult to maintain optimum efficiency). If you would be interested in this position, please owl us or send a message to my office.
Sincerely,
Bartemius Crouch : Head of the Department for Magical Law Enforcement
Peter stared down at the sheet of parchment. This was not what he had hoped for, that was certain...but it was certainly something. A secretary in the courts--it could be really interesting work! He felt an intense pride in the fact that his mentor had recommended him to Crouch. Not many people had expressed much confidence in him before. Of course, this would mean giving up his position with the Muggle Artifacts Office, and he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to do that....
He fished a blank sheet of parchment from his desk drawer, as well as a quill and a pot of ink (not the one he'd enchanted to flash different colors). After thinking a moment, he began to pose a reply.
Dear Mr. Crouch,
Thank you for informing me about the job opening in the Justice Department. I would be delighted to accept, but as you may know, I currently have a position with the Department for the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts offices. If you would be so kind as to allow me a day's grace to speak to my head of Department and consider the matter, I can get back to you tomorrow.
Thank you again,
Peter Pettigrew
Department for the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts
That was it, he thought with satisfaction. Short, to the point, and businesslike. Peter retrieved an envelope, sealed the letter into it, and wrote "Mr. Bartemius Crouch" on the back. He'd drop it off with Crouch's secretary later on. Until then, he thought with a reluctant sigh, there remained a stack of work on his desk that was waiting impatiently to be finished. He really didn't want to have to think about the three hundred odd laws currently in effect dealing with Muggle articles, not to mention follow up on half a dozen urgent letters that were in his IN tray. He opened the first, gave it a cursory glance, and apparated away.
Mrs. E. M. Culliber of 9093 Lawrence Street, a Muggle woman living alone in a small brick house, had recently come upon a doormat at a sidewalk sale that wiped the owners' feet when stepped on. Mrs. E. M. Culliber wanted to know just what a strange robed individual wanted with her, said (with a note of repressed hysteria) that, no, she'd had no problems with her doormat (she was, of course, in complete denial of the seemingly inexplicable actions of her large brown rug), and slammed the door in his face.
Peter sighed. This was going to be more difficult than he'd thought.
"Mrs. Culliber?" He could see her peering out of one of the dark windows. "Mrs. Culliber, I'm just here to help you." There was no response. He waved his wand at the door, which flew open, and he pushed his way in before she could close it again. The rug (lying in the entry hall) flew upwards, rubbing furiously at his feet and writhing about on the floor.
"This is trespassing!" she shouted in her high-pitched voice, trying to beat him about the head with an umbrella. "I'll call the police on you!"
"Mrs. Culliber, it's all right. I'm just here to relieve you of your doormat and--"
"Out! I won't have any rug thieves in my house!"
"I'd be perfectly willing to reimburse you, Mrs. Culliber--will this do?" He pulled a handful of bronze and silver coins from his pocket completely at random (one golden galleon gleaming amid the rest) and showed them to her. She gasped in shock and seized the galleon, staring at it in disbelief.
"This...this is gold?"
"Pure gold, Mrs. Culliber...I'm sorry, I don't have any other form of currency on me...."
She turned the coin over in her hand, then tentatively raised it to her mouth and bit it.
"What was that for?" Peter asked indignantly.
"I--I don't know what it's for, I've seen people do it at the cinema." Her tone was not accusatory, now, but confused and vague.
"Cinema? What's that?" He belatedly realized, from her expression, that movies the cinema was some Muggle contrivation that he should have known about, and decided enough was enough. "Never mind...is that good enough?"
"Er...that'll be fine..."
"Good," Peter replied with a reassuring smile. He closed the front door, which was still standing wide open, and rolled the doormat up, tucking it under one arm. "Thank you very much, ma'am. Just one more thing, if you don't mind...." He pulled his wand out of his pocket, and she stared at him, a confused look on her face.
"Obliviate!"
Her eyes momentarily took on a dreamy, fogged look, and he seized the opportunity to apparate back to his office.
Or rather, to disapparate from the Muggle woman's house, because halfway there, something seemed to strike him like a brick wall, and as the universe shakily reasserted itself around him, Peter discovered that he was sitting down in the street outside Ministry headquarters; the air around him was suddenly filled with blue static. A blaring alarm went off, and a magically amplified voice blared out into the street, startling both Peter and the afternoon pedestrians on Diagon Alley: "Employees of the Ministry and private citizens are reminded that as of noon today, wards are being set up so that one can disapparate from, but not apparate into, all Ministry buildings in London, so please make travel arrangements accordingly....Employees of the Ministry and...."
Several figures came running outside, every one in the royal blue robes with a yellow circle on the front that proclaimed them to be Ministry Hit Wizards, wands held high in the air.
"Stop right there!" one of them yelled, pointing his wand at Peter, who threw his hands upwards.
"No, don't--I'm a Ministry employee!"
A crowd had gathered at a safe distance and was watching the scene play out with obvious amusement.
The Hit Wizards glanced at each other and all but the first lowered their wands. "Where's your ID?"
Peter felt his pockets, only to find them empty. "I must have left it on my desk," he said quickly. "Just let me run into the building and...." The man looked ready to curse him, and Peter dropped the wand he still had in one hand. "Look, you can talk to Arthur Weasley if you need to, or Balbus Ebriel for that matter. I'm Peter Pettigrew of the Muggle Artifacts Department. I didn't know about the wards."
"He's probably telling the truth, Garrett," a witch said uncertainly.
The wizard shook his head. "Best to be certain. Come on, you--keep your hands in sight, and don't touch that wand!" Peter decided it was probably best not to protest, and got carefully to his feet. He wasn't going to give "Garrett" any reason for hexing him. It was incredibly hard to move while surrounded by the blue static, which seemed to be some sort of alarm system that identified the intruder. It disappeared with a wave of Garrett's wand.
"No sudden moves," the Hit Wizard said menacingly.
Cheeks burning at the stares and chuckles from the crowd around him, Peter was frog-marched up the stairs and into the building.
"He's the sixth one today, Garrett," the witch persisted. "Not everybody's been told yet."
"Doesn't matter," the other said darkly. "Security needs to be tight, especially with the heads of departments and other officials all meeting together."
By the time they had reached his office, Peter was in a profound state of embarrassment. He'd known quite a few of the people that had grinned at him in the halls, and as he walked into the Muggle Artifacts wing, his humiliation was topped off by the look on Arthur Weasley's face.
"Pettigrew? What happened?"
"I-"
"Sir, can you validate the identity of this young man?"
Weasley gave Garrett a look of surprise. "Why, of course! This is Peter Pettigrew, who works here with me."
The Hit Wizard frowned at Peter. "Where did you say your ID is?"
"Top drawer on the left, in my desk. I think."
"Would you be so kind as to get it? Not you," he added sharply, as Peter had taken a step toward the office door. "Him." He jabbed his wand at Weasley, who obligingly got up, walked into Peter's office, and rummaged around in the drawers for a moment.
"Here it is."
The small card, inscribed with his identification number he'd received when he became employed at the Ministry, his department and its head, and his name and birth date, had a moving picture of Peter on the front.
"Give me your hand."
Peter did so, pressing his forefinger to the card. He felt a tingle run through his body, and then the words "Identity Verified" sprang into view above the picture.
"Now can I get back to work?"
"You may. Thank you, both of you. I'm sure you understand the urgent need for security in light of recent events." Garrett turned and marched out of the room.
Weasley looked rather sheepish. "That would be my fault, Pettigrew...at least, I presume you tried to apparate back here? I forgot to let you know that wards were being set up. I'm sorry."
"That's all right, but why are they setting them up so suddenly, and why the tighter security?"
He hesitated. "Come with me, we've been called to a hearing. You can find out there."
The conference room in the building across the street looked like a lecture hall in one of the Muggle universities Peter had seen--there were dozens of chairs on a slope, with aisles running down between the columns and a stage at the bottom. He walked in to the buzzing of hundreds of people who were seated in the chairs, recognizing most as employees of the Ministry. He also saw a few people he assumed were from the Daily Prophet and the Wizarding Wireless Network; some were taking pictures so quickly that the multicolored smoke emitting from the cameras covered half the ceiling. He sat down next to Weasley and they waited. Several minutes later, the room grew silent as the door to the stage opened, and nineteen people walked in to take their seats in the chairs set up onstage: the Heads of Departments, Edward Cole, Alastor Moody, Vincent Gregoram, and Arabella Figg, as well as a few others Peter didn't recognize. Crouch was the twentieth, and he went not to a chair but to the podium in the center, clearing his throat.
"Some of you know why we're here," he began, voice magically amplified. "Many do not. It is the cold, hard truth that last night, Death Eaters stormed the Prewett mansion, massacring our beloved Minister and his family."
Somebody gasped, and several people started to their feet. The cameras paused for an instant, and then began whirring even faster than before. Peter was completely stunned--Prewett dead? This couldn't possibly be happening. He'd only met him once or twice, but he was a kind man: a born leader, and somebody he'd always felt he could look up to.
"The Council has decided that it would be unwise to elect another Minister at this time. However, we have come to an agreement on the fact that we do need someone to lead us and organize the Ministry in Jonathan's stead." Crouch paused, swallowing. "The Council has reached the--unanimous--" (a muscle was going in his cheek) "decision that the person to lead us during this time of trouble should be none other than the venerable Albus Dumbledore."
A murmur rippled across the crowd. Dumbledore was, of course, the obvious choice, but unless Peter was very much mistaken, Crouch wasn't too happy about it; he quite plainly wanted the job himself, and had only agreed with the others to save his face.
"Albus?" Crouch was looking around at the crowd. "Are you present?"
"Indeed, I am." Dumbledore's voice rang out through the room from where he'd stood up, directly in the center of the listening crowd. He stopped for a moment to think. "I will say that I deeply grieve Jonathan's passing, but this is a time in which it is best not to dwell on the negative and look ahead. I have been offered positions at the Ministry many times, and have refused them all on the grounds that my loyalties lie first with Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. While I intend to continue my activities as headmaster there, I feel that I cannot abandon my country in its time of need. I am flattered by your offer, and will do the best I can for as long as I am in Jonathan's former place."
The noise and smoke from the cameras had redoubled by this time, but otherwise the audience was silent, and Dumbledore's voice seemed to echo even after he had stopped speaking. Crouch nodded once. "Thank you, Albus. Ordinarily, we would not continue operations today out of respect for Jonathan Prewett, but that is not an option at the moment. If you would all please return to your offices, it is our priority to continue running as smoothly as possible. Thank you all."
As he filed out of the room behind a subdued Arthur Weasley, Peter still could not quite get used to the idea that they no longer had a Minister. Slowly, another thought began to push its way into the clear part of his brain--the Prewett mansion had to have been at least as heavily guarded as Crouch's had been.
So how had the Death Eaters gotten in?
********
Just as he was reaching for some of the powder, having lit a fire in the grate, Rowena Heckleburst appeared in the sitting room.
"Hello," she said with a smile. "James Potter, right? Where are you headed?"
"Diagon Alley."
"Really? Me too. Mind if I join you?"
"Not at all." James handed her the jar and threw his handful into the flames. "The Leaky Cauldron!"
After the typically disorienting journey, James staggered out of the large fireplace in the pub, eyes not quite adjusted to the dim light. A few witches and wizards seated at the tables looked up to see who had arrived, but they all soon returned to contemplating their butterbeers. When Rowena arrived, on the other hand, she took their attention up for far longer, the wizards watching her step gracefully out with ill-disguised admiration, the witches with equally obvious envy. She appeared not to notice, and instead led James quickly out of the building and into the back lot, where she tapped on the brick wall with her wand. The archway into Diagon Alley appeared instantaneously, and the two of them stepped into the crowded street.
"What are you here for?" Rowena asked him.
"Unicorn dung for my Mum, a few books I need for Crouch's classes, and one or two other things. What about you?"
"Chimera gallbladders," she replied promptly.
James stared at her. "Honestly? Those things have got to be expensive--Chimaera's aren't easy to find, much less kill. We used the liver once in Potions, and our professor nearly skinned Sirius when he accidentally dropped his in some digesting concoction."
Rowena shrugged dismissively. "I suppose so, but I really need a few for a project I'm working on. Let's stop at Flourish and Blotts first to get your books--I was thinking of picking up one on argentum liquidum." They did so, and James found copies of "Boggle the Mind--Resisting and Casting Mind-Controlling Spells" and "A Recent History of the Dark Arts, from Grindelwald to the Death Eaters". Rowena bought several large volumes that the clerk could barely fit into the book bag, even without considering the idiotic way he was grinning at her and fumbling around with the books and the silver she handed him in payment.
When they emerged once more into the street, loaded down with reading material, Rowena set a course immediately for the apothecary shop. "Six pounds of Unicorn Dung, please," James told the skinny, beaky-nosed witch behind the counter. She disappeared into a back room that said "
"Sorry," she said in a very nasal voice. "Fresh out. Try back tomorrow."
"What about Chimera gallbladders?"
"We don't carry those," she informed Rowena disdainfully. "They're too pricey and don't keep long."
"Come on," Rowena said in an irritated voice. "I know a place that's sure to carry both, and cheap, too. Just follow me."
He did so, and they soon ended up in a part of the street that was practically deserted and seemed to stop in a dead end, except for the alley--darker and almost forbidding--that led in another direction. Rowena began to enter it.
"Wait," James called uncertainly. "That's Knockturn Alley, isn't it?"
She nodded, then grinned at him. "Come on--it's not illegal or anything. Not frightened of it, are you?"
"Of course not," he muttered as he followed Rowena into the alley. But he did have to admit to himself that he felt extremely uneasy about heading into such a shady neighborhood with almost a complete stranger.
It turned out that Knockturn Alley was actually one main alley with several smaller ones branching off. Rowena went down several of these before they finally arrived at a shabby apothecary shop that was completely devoid of any other customers. The wares inside included plenty of ingredients James had never seen or heard of before, and some of them were just downright creepy, as was the witch behind the counter. Rowena gave her their orders.
"That's seven sickles from you," she said to James, who fished out some silver and accepted the large, grimy paper bag filled with silvery feces. "And you--back again so soon?" She smiled a toothless grin at Rowena. "Five Chimera gallbladders--that'll be forty-five galleons."
James gaped at them both, but Rowena didn't even flinch, drawing instead a sack of gold from somewhere inside her robes. The witch weighed it on a scale that looked like it had been used to measure some vile green substance (part of which had remained encrusted to the metal) in the recent past, and then approved it.
"And mind they're big ones, now," Rowena said sharply. "You can't swindle me out of my money, you know." The witch gave another toothless grin and handed over another paper bag, whose contents seemed to be large, round, wet, and rather squishy. Rowena inspected them carefully and nodded.
"Let's go, then."
The witch cackled and waved them out of the shop, leaving James feeling even more uneasy than before.
"Let's take a shortcut back," Rowena said decisively, and turned in another direction. They spent what seemed like ages turning corners that led down one dark street after another. By the time five minutes had past, he was jumping at small noises and half expecting to be surprised from behind. James looked back at the overhang they'd just passed under, and was about to ask Rowena whether she thought she'd taken a wrong turn, when something hard and unbelievably powerful struck him on the back of his head. The world exploded in a bright white light, giving way immediately to complete and utter darkness.
********
After being late the previous morning, Remus took great care to be several minutes early for Moody's class. It seemed that Sirius had had the same idea, because he was already waiting inside the classroom, dressed in his Muggle riding gear. He gave Remus a rather sheepish smile as he walked in.
"Decided to be early for once?"
"Apparently so," Frank Longbottom replied, a note of amusement in his voice. Remus sat down at his desk, next to Frank's because of the alphabetical order, and saw him tense up slightly. He looked over at the former Ravenclaw in some trepidation--it had been only the previous morning that the Cruciatus curse had produced such unfortunate side effects, and he was sure that nobody had forgotten. Frank, however, returned his look with an encouraging, if slightly shaky smile.
"Sorry," he said in a low voice. "It's just a bit hard to ignore the fact that you've seen one of your classmates turn into--into--" He broke off awkwardly.
"It's all right. No, really, it is. I understand and would probably feel the same."
Frank seemed relieved.
"So," Remus asked in a light voice, doing his best to change the subject, "have you started studying for the exam later this week?"
Sirius snorted, and Frank glanced over at him. "A bit, yes. I take it you have, Sirius?"
"Only for about a century this afternoon."
"There you have it, Frank," Remus laughed, "who could contradict themselves like that but Sirius? Yes, we did a bit of studying. It about drove Padfoot up the wall."
"If you'd just let us stop for a break once in awhile, Moony, I would've been able to concentrate better," Sirius retorted.
Remus was about to point out that they had stopped for several breaks, but the look on Frank's face stopped him.
"Moony," he said slowly. "Of course...I've heard Sirius, James and Peter call you that before. It makes sense now--but Padfoot? What's that mean? And what about Prongs and Wormtail, I seem to recall...."
"Nothing," Remus said quickly. "Just nicknames they made up a while ago."
Frank didn't seem quite satisfied, but he didn't ask any more questions. He might have, were it not for the fact that the door had just opened again, and Snape had just led a group of students into the room.
"You actually showed up today?" he sneered at Remus, and Nott's snicker came from behind him.
"Why shouldn't he?" Sirius demanded.
"Well, you know," Snape drawled, "after yesterday's episode, I thought maybe he'd reconsider his decision to become an Auror. You know, he could go and be a freak at a Muggle circus instead."
Remus felt his face grow hot, but years of ignoring Snape's taunting made it possible for him not to respond. Sirius went bright red and clenched his fists, but at a warning look from Remus, he didn't say anything.
"Knock it off, Snape," Shelia Penn said from where she was standing, next to the door. "It wasn't his fault."
"Quiet, Penn, it's none of your business. But you've always sided with your fellow Gryffindors, haven't you? Mudblood and Muggle loving slime, the lot of them."
"Think Moody'd mind if I killed him?" Sirius snarled in an undertone to Remus. "He hates him as much as we do...."
"And you," Snape continued, looking at Frank this time, "you Ravenclaws are supposed to be pretty clever, but you obviously don't live up to it, do you? I mean, hanging around with Potter, and Black here and the monster, that's not too smart, is it...not to mention that weakling, Pettigrew--I heard the Dark Lord's going for half bloods, too, hope he's next...."
What little control Sirius still had snapped completely. With a wordless roar, he threw himself forward at Snape, and an instant later, the two of them were rolling around on the floor in a flurry of fists and flapping robes. The other students were shouting, most egging one or the other of them on, and only a few trying to stop it.
"Sirius!" Remus bellowed, "Sirius, stop it before--"
He was too late. The door, naturally, chose that exact instant to swing open, and with a swish of robes, two people walked in.
"Black!"
"Snape!"
Remus gasped--it was not, as he'd supposed, Moody and Crouch, but Vincent Gregoram and Minerva McGonagall. He'd thought the Auror and Law Enforcement Head would be quite bad enough, but the expression on Sirius' and Snape's former heads of houses were enough to make the whole class' blood run cold.
The two on the floor had frozen in position; Sirius was shoving down hard on Snape's shoulders, and the Slytherin had one arm up to grab his throat. At the sound of the professors' voices, Sirius rolled quickly to one side and they both sat up. Sirius' face showed nothing but hotheaded fury, but Snape had on his usual sullen expression.
"That will be quite enough!" Minerva barked, her lips pressed into a barely visible line and her eyes smoldering like dark coals. "I had thought better of both of you--training to be Aurors, indeed! Can you not, for a few hours, forget your personal grudges in light of what we are here to do?"
Gregoram's face could have been made of stone. Remus had only seen him this way once or twice before--once was when he, Sirius, Peter, and James had been caught out after hours, trying to sneak into the Slytherin common room to place hexes on the armchairs and couches. The Professor had been wakened by the noise Sirius had made when he stubbed his toe on a stair--they'd gotten one hundred-twenty points from Gryffindor and detention for a month. Another had been when a group of first years had been foolishly playing near the Whomping Willow, the lethal tree on the Hogwarts grounds, and one of them had been seriously injured. These memories flashed at lightning speed through Remus' head as Gregoram strode forward and stood staring down at Snape and Sirius.
"I am most disappointed with both of you," he said in a slow, controlled voice that made Remus feel like a first year again, even though it was not directed at him. "Representatives of your school and houses, working for the Ministry--and here you are, rolling around on the ground like children! You were recommended as the most dedicated students in your class. That's why you were accepted. I'm sure there are many others who would be willing to take your places, should it become necessary. Is that going to happen?"
Both of them shook their heads mutely, though they were still looking daggers at each other.
"Good," Minerva said, still angry but obviously wanting to get moving. "Return to your seats, both of you."
"We will be speaking to Mr. Moody and Mr. Crouch about this," Gregoram warned.
Sirius looked properly abashed, but had the nerve to ask a question as he got to his feet.
"Where are Moody and Crouch?"
"They are at a meeting," Gregoram said in reply, "and we will be teaching classes for today. Please take your seats. We will begin with a discussion about stunning spells."
They'd already covered some of this in Defense Against the Dark Arts, but Gregoram went lightly over the review subjects and they went on to more difficult stunning spells. He ended the discussion by asking Minerva to shoot him with those they'd talked about, and she did so with such rapidity that, despite holding her off for a good (and entertaining, as they both were running around desks, Minerva trying for a better view and Gregoram dodging and parrying each curse) five minutes, at the end of it, he was struck full by a simple "Stupefy!" and keeled over onto the floor.
Minerva waved her wand again while the class applauded. "Enervate!" Helping him to his feet, she turned back to the class and began to explain the counterspells Gregoram had used.
As she did so, Remus noticed something odd about her. She was certainly in a better mood than she had been when she'd walked in on Sirius and Snape fighting, but there was something else--she was smiling much more than usual, and her cheeks were flushed. He did a double-take and looked closer--that wasn't a natural blush! Minerva McGonagall wearing makeup? Something strange was going on....
He wasn't imagining things, he decided finally, after watching her for a few minutes. She was obviously excited about something, although her mind seemed otherwise to be firmly set on the lesson plan that she and Gregoram led them through--wait a moment--the lesson plan that she and--
In the wake of the startling, impossible revelation that exploded through his mind at that instant came the thought that he must, indeed, be imagining things. This was the most ridiculous idea that had ever occurred to him, and yet....
Remus shook his head. He'd lost his mind completely. There must be some rational explanation; he just hadn't got enough sleep the previous night, that was it. With an effort, he forced his mind back to stunning charms.
At the end of the class, he approached Sirius to tell him what he'd thought, even if it was completely absurd, but Gregoram came up to them, a frown on his face. Sirius looked worried that he was in for another scolding, but it was a different concern entirely that had their former professor troubled.
"Where is James Potter?"
Sirius and Remus stared blankly at each other--they'd been so concerned with other things (Snape, the lesson, and Minerva, to be precise) that they hadn't even noticed that Prongs wasn't in the classroom.
"I dunno," Sirius said uneasily, glancing toward the spot where James usually sat. "We saw him earlier today; he should have been here."
"Maybe he got sick," Remus suggested unconvincingly.
Gregoram shook his head. "Not likely. He would at least have let someone know. Likely as not, he just forgot about it all. Still, I'll be on the safe side and see if I can talk with him or his mother."
"I'll wait until you find out," Remus said. He had a vague, uneasy feeling that he was ashamed to admit, but he needed to satisfy himself that nothing was amiss.
Gregoram nodded. "I'll be back in a few minutes." Sirius also decided to wait; the two of them sat down in their seats and watched the rest of the class leave. Minerva had overheard the conversation and sat with them, her face troubled and her mind elsewhere.
Only a few minutes had passed before Gregoram returned.
"I've just been talking with Vivian," he said, closing the door behind him. "She hasn't seen James since he left this morning for your study session, and she mentioned something about potion ingredients he was supposed to get from Diagon Alley that weren't in the house. She's coming down here right now to see if we can find him."
"Is it really that big a deal?" Sirius asked, a note of worry in his voice. "I mean, he could easily have gotten sidetracked by a sale at Quality Quidditch Supplies or something."
Gregoram shrugged. "Vivian will be meeting us upstairs, in the Law Enforcement main lobby. Come along, both of you. Minerva?"
The four of them went, not through the door Remus had come in by, but through the one that stood underneath the clock on the wall. He'd never been back there before. Until the four of them got to the top of the stairs, it seemed exactly like the other exit, but when they came out into the lobby, it was completely different.
Several witches and wizards were sitting around in chairs and sofas, a mug of coffee or tea in one hand and a sheaf of parchments in the other. Others kept rushing through the room and down one of several corridors leading out. The whole of it--the people, rooms, and even furniture--exuded efficiency and a definite air of purpose.
They'd only been there a moment when Vivian Potter came walking down one of the hallways, short and slender with very pale skin, her black hair thrown carelessly over one shoulder. She was dressed, to Remus' surprise, in Muggle jeans and a short-sleeved shirt, and the dirt under her fingernails reminded him of Professor Sprout, the Herbology teacher at Hogwarts. That and the perspiration still shining on her face indicated that she'd spent a long, hot afternoon outside in her herb garden. Although Vivian Potter was not normally fastidious in her appearance, she ordinarily took care to be more presentable than she was now.
"Where is he?" she demanded in a harsh voice uncharacteristic of her.
"That is what we're trying to find out," Gregoram said. "You had sent him to Diagon Alley, correct?"
"For some unicorn dung," she replied, looking quickly between the four of them. "For my fertilizing potions. He said he'd pick it up after he got done studying at the Blacks' house, and he'd drop it off after I got home, just before leaving for class. I didn't see him, and if he came back with the ingredients, I didn't see those either."
"Did he leave for Diagon Alley?"
Sirius nodded quickly from Minerva to Vivian. "Said he wanted to be back with the dung before you got home. He used Floo Powder, I think."
Vivian looked even more anxious than before. "He's not one to forget things like that...it has me worried."
"Tell you what," Remus offered, "I know which apothecary store James always goes to--it's just across the street. I'll go see if he's been by yet."
The witch at the counter seemed perfectly bored with it all, and not at all anxious to help him. In a few minutes, though, Remus was back at the Ministry building with the information they were looking for.
"She said a young man, sounds like James, came into the shop looking for unicorn dung several hours ago. They didn't have any in stock, or chimera gallbladders, for that matter. The young lady he was with wanted those, and apparently she suggested they try a place she was sure would have both ingredients."
"Young lady?" Vivian said sharply. "What did she look like? Might it have been Lily?"
James shook his head. "The description actually sounded a lot like that Rowena Heckleburst your Mum's friends with, Sirius."
This took a moment of explanation. When Sirius had told the rest who Rowena Heckleburst was, Gregoram nodded. "I remember the name, now. She'll be my assistant professor next year. If he's with her, you shouldn't have to worry. I met her once, but I've known her by reputation for some time: she's extremely competent and good-natured. All the same, I'll check and see where she is at the moment."
"How can you do that?"
"Did she tell you where she worked before Dumbledore hired her?"
"Something about a "Guild", but she wouldn't say any more."
Gregoram was nodding. "You might have heard of it, though I don't find it likely. She was a member of the Arab Guild of Alchemists and General Practitioners of the Magical Arts, known best to initiates as the "Guild". That's the name it generally goes by, in fact."
"She didn't look like she was from the Middle East," Remus pointed out.
"She's not. She's English, but she went to school in Arabia. It's rather a long story."
Sirius frowned. "What does that have to do with finding them?"
"Everything. I'll explain later--come with me."
********
He came to slowly, like he was trying to climb the sides of a steep, sandy pit that kept collapsing just as he nearly reached the top. When he finally opened his eyes and his vision cleared, he saw a pair of dark eyes staring intently into his own. He coughed once, rolled over, and was promptly sick all over the floor.
When James managed to rearrange his thoughts into some semblance of order (still too nauseous to do anything but hunch over, dry heaves wracking his midsection), his first thought was of Rowena. She must have deliberately led him into a dark alley, far from the shops, and...done something to his head. It hurt--a lot. Thinking about that didn't seem to be productive, so he considered the impacts of her betrayal. He needed to tell somebody--Merulla Black, maybe--that there was a spy working with the Ministry. For now, he just needed to figure out what on earth was going on.
Head pounding, he turned over on his side and saw the man squatting down next to him. He was, James noticed, very tall, with black hair like his own and piercing dark eyes. His robes were completely black, with a hood that seemed large enough to pull down over one's face and two holes obviously intended to see out of. He felt his stomach shrivel up.
The man reached a hand toward him, and he braced himself, but he only took his shoulder and helped him sit up. With a wave of his wand (it was very long, James noticed, and made of a darkly stained wood) he muttered, "Coalasceo!"
Instantly, he felt the pounding in his head subside slightly, and the nauseous feeling in his stomach abated. "Thanks," he said with a groan, reaching up to touch the back of his head gingerly.
"Don't mention it," the other replied. James examined him again--he must be in his mid-forties or so, though his face was young and he seemed to be in extremely good shape. His hair had not yet began to gray, and there were only the finest outlines of wrinkles at the corners of his mouth and eyes. He smiled at James' intense scrutiny, a real smile that warmed those intense, unsettling eyes.
"What--what happened to me?"
"You were hit rather forcibly over the head with a hard, blunt object. Tentative but likely diagnosis. You may have a concussion...in fact, I think it's probable...so take it easy for awhile. I'm not exactly a qualified healer, though I do have some talent in that area."
"Where am I?"
The room reminded him of potions classes in the dungeons, without the constant smell and presence of cauldrons and tables. It was completely empty, and the only break in the stone walls, floor, or ceiling was the heavy wooden door at one end. Despite the gloomy atmosphere, it was clean (except for the disgusting mess now on the floor) and the floors had been scrubbed.
"Ah," the man said, sitting back on his heels. His smile was distant, now, and his eyes were vacant. "Now, I can't really tell you that, can I? Except for the fact that you're in one of the many underground chambers the Death Eaters have been using recently. We won't be using this one much longer...it's easier to hide if we move around."
At the first person pronoun, James felt his heart sink and recoiled slightly from the figure next to him. "You're a Death Eater, too?"
"Naturally." His mouth twitched. "You thought I was a fellow prisoner?"
"I--I don't know." He stared again at the older man. "What am I doing here?"
"Oh, you've been brought in for some questioning," he said lightly.
"Then what's going to happen to me?"
"That depends. How the questioning goes also depends on exactly how helpful you feel like being today...."
James felt a thrill of terror; he could think of several imaginative ways they could get the answers they wanted out of him.
"First, you're in training to be an Auror, aren't you?"
"Who told you that? Rowena Heckleburst?"
"That's not important. So, you are in training. James Potter, unless I'm very much mistaken--oh, don't look so surprised. We have our ways, you know. I met your parents quite some time ago and quite liked them both...you look like your mother, although you definitely have your father's jaw structure and his knees...I remember watching him standing up at the podium, with his incredibly long, gangling legs and knobby knees.... Anyway. I've been told that you're also a member of the old man's network. There's a lot we can learn from you, James Potter, if you're willing. Would you care to inform us where meetings are held, and when the next one will be?"
"No," James replied, gritting his teeth.
"No?" The man was twirling his wand between his fingers. "My superiors won't be too happy with me if I come back empty handed, you know. You won't tell, not even to help a poor old Death Eater in need?"
James stared at him in amazement. A Death Eater with a sense of humor about questioning prisoners?
"I'll give you some time to think about it," he said with another warm smile. "We've got your wand for you, by the way...but don't be expecting it back anytime soon, James. Can I call you James? Thank you. Just call out if you need anything--we've got this room monitored, so I'll know."
He stood and opened the door with his wand, which James knew would lock behind him once he closed it again. He caught a glimpse of a stone corridor outside. The Death Eater waved his wand once more, this time at the mess of blood and vomit on the floor, and it shimmered for a moment before disappearing. James stared--that was highly advanced magic; not transfiguration exactly, but more like vaporizing an object completely. It was far more difficult than conjuring one up, because you had to deal with the energy given off by whatever you were destroying. He'd never managed it, and the only person he'd ever seen do it successfully was Dumbledore--and his father, Dorian Potter. James remembered reading about the process in one of his father's books, "The Physics of Transfiguration."
"Who are you?" he called uncertainly. There was something undeniably strange about this man--maybe it was that James had expected the Death Eaters to look and act rather like gangsters in a Muggle film. Still, besides the fact that he was obviously more powerful than most wizards James had met, he was being almost frighteningly cordial....
"I've got a few pseudonyms I switch from time to time," the Death Eater replied. "We don't like to use our real names, you know."
"So what name are you using right now?"
"I've been going by 'Marvolo' lately," the man said, one hand propping the door open. The Death Eater's smile widened. "But I suppose, since we'll be seeing a lot of each other in the near future, you can just call me Tom."
(eerie music builds in the background....)
I love cliffhangers! I thought about just leaving it after James blacks out, but then I realized how much more suspenseful it is this way. I assume you all understood the implications of the last paragraph? Of course, sometimes things like that just run right by you...my best friend, whose favorite character, incidentally, is Tom Riddle, didn't understand the whole first chapter of Goblet of Fire; she didn't get the reference to the Riddle house and couldn't understand what the big deal was until I explained it, and I assure you, she doesn't usually miss things when she's reading. But I've blabbered quiet enough for one chapter.
Some food for thought:
Who is this mysterious Rowena Heckleburst, and what is the "Guild" she claims to work for?
Where exactly has she taken James, and is she a Death Eater herself?
Why does Professor Gregoram need an assistant teacher, and what exactly is he doing for the Ministry?
How did the Death Eaters get past the wards around the Prewetts' home? Did they have inside help? If so, who was the traitor, and has he/she been tipping off the Death Eaters about the dementors, etc. as well?
All right, I'll tell you what didn't agree with the HP books in "Arrival at the Ministry," since it's completely obscure...Moody still has both feet. How does he end up with the pegged leg? It'll be extremely important later on....
In Book IV, Dumbledore says that he Snape's already lost his first chance...so what happened to the first, and how did he earn another one?
How does Remus end up with an old and battered suitcase saying "Professor R. J. Lupin" on it? Again, it'll be important later on, so keep reading....
Have we discovered a new side to Voldemort's personality?
And, of course, the most vital question of all...will Sirius pass his first exam?
Just some things to think about....
