"Hello, young sirs. Milady. How can I be of service?"
"Is Grey here, Sir Cadogan?" Hermione asked. "We really need to speak with him."
"I'm sorry, he and the Lady Willow left this morning for her homeland."
"D'you know when they'll be back?" Ron asked.
"I'm sorry, I do not, good sir." The desire to avoid another banishment had finally curbed Cadogan's tongue.
"Thanks, anyway," Harry said as they walked away. "So what now?"
"Dumbledore or Giles?" Hermione suggested.
Harry shook his head.
"No. If a professor shows up, they'll know word got out somehow. We can't … I don't believe I'm saying this … we can't do anything that might jeopardize Malfoy."
"What's the plan, then?"
No one had an answer. Malfoy had recounted the conversation between MacNair and Flint verbatim. As they walked back to the common room, they ran through his words in their own heads. Once they were safely ensconced in their own empty dormitory, Hermione decided she knew what to do.
"I have an idea," she announced. The boys looked on eagerly. "Obviously, we need to grab that map after it's hidden on Thursday and see where the stolen goods are located."
"Do we tell Fred and George?" Ron asked.
Hermione shook her head.
"No. I think we need to let them get arrested, and it has to look real."
"What?"
"Listen to me," she said. Using her schoolteacher voice, she explained her strategy. At the conclusion, they looked at her dubiously.
"I don't know, 'Mione," Ron said. "What if we can't beat them? They're seventh-years, and dark wizards to boot. I don't mind getting hurt, but I want to win if we do."
"We can get Ginny and Neville to help us," Harry said. "She deserves to, because they're her brothers as well. Neville will be happy to, because of the thing with Malfoy."
"We shouldn't tell him about Malfoy," Hermione said.
"Then how do we know about it?" Ron asked. "It'd be flamin' obvious we're lying."
"We can say one of us overheard it in the hall." Helped along by her 'don't-be-so-stupid' look, comprehension dawned on his face and he nodded.
"No," Harry countered.
"No?" They asked simultaneously.
"No. He deserves to know the truth. He cares more about helping Ron than how we found about it, don't you think?"
Reluctantly, they both agreed to tell Neville the truth, then sat down to hash out the details.
The Weasley twins entered their Thursday Potions lesson with less than a minute to spare. Snape, disappointed that he couldn't penalize Gryffindor for tardiness, settled for scowling fiercely as the redheads took their seats.
"Nice of you to join us today," he muttered. Fred smirked in response, but said nothing. He had been in Snape's class too long to make a stupid mistake like that.
"Professor," MacNair said ten minutes into class, "might I be excused for a moment? I need to make a quick run to the loo." Snape nodded and gestured to the door.
MacNair made it to the Gryffindor dormitory in record time, barely dodging the wandering duo of Filch and Mrs. Norris. Pulling out his hand-drawn map and Flint's note, he proffered the stolen password and snuck in. In less than thirty seconds, he slipped the map under George's mattress and darted back out into the hall.
"Too bloody simple," he whispered on the walk back to Snape's class.
Harry and Ron laid the new map next to the Marauder's Map on Ron's bed. They quickly traced the three simplest routes to the Zonko's stash.
"They did a good job of hidin' it," Ron commented. "Without one of these maps, no one would find it for years. Who knew the kitchens had so many extra storage rooms?"
"My father probably did," Harry said, "and your brothers. No one else would." He remembered who had picked the spot and amended his thought. "At least, no one else that would be suspected."
"We can get there without them seeing us, right?"
"I think so," Harry said. With his wand, he traced out a route on the Marauder's Map. "This way should take us there indirectly. Half these passages are secret; even we've never been in them. I'm betting that they haven't, either." He pointed out another route. "This is the easiest way to get there, other than the one on the hand-drawn map. That's the one I'd take, if I were them and wanted to watch." Ron nodded his agreement.
"I still don't see why we have to let my brothers get arrested."
"We need MacNair and Flint to go down to the storeroom. They won't leave until they see that. Don't worry about it. Hermione will intercept the constable and McGonagall and sort them out before anything bad happens." He pocketed the map. "We just need to hold those two off. A truth serum will do the rest."
"You wished to see me, Minister?" Dumbledore asked formally on Friday morning. "Please be seated."
Fudge carefully rested his bulk on one of Dumbledore's office chairs. He removed his hat and placed it in his lap.
Since their falling out after the Tri-Wizard tournament, Fudge and Dumbledore had barely spoken and had not met in person. Despite the obvious signs, including numerous Death Eater attacks and the Dark Mark often on prominent display, Fudge retained his unshakeable belief that Voldemort had not returned.
"Indeed, Albus. I thought we might discuss this rumor that You Know Who is behind the recent series of attacks. We can't have people believing such nonsense, you know, and it appears from the Ministry's vantage point that you are doing nothing to quell it."
Hearing the term 'rumor' escape Fudge's mouth, the headmaster restrained a cringe.
"Cornelius, we both know that this is no rumor. Yet you refuse to accept the plain truth. Even the Daily Prophet…"
"Rumor mongers!" Fudge insisted, raising his voice. "Anyone can send the Mark into the sky. We lack proof. I find it far more likely that this renegade auror, O'Brien, is behind this."
"She is … involved, I agree," Dumbledore said patiently. "But we have strong evidence that she is in fact Voldemort's field commander." He made no specific mention of Snape's spying on the Death Eater ranks.
"Piffle," Fudge said with a wave of his hand. "She is our villain here, Albus. You Know Who is only a memory."
"Why are you here, Cornelius, if that is the case? My mistaken beliefs are surely not a matter for the Minister of Magic himself."
"The Ministry, and myself in particular, is quite concerned about some of your staff. The Grey boy was an understandable choice …" Fudge paused, and a hint of disgust crept into his voice, "even if he is a squib. But now … his association with her is making many people nervous. They wonder if perhaps he helped her enter on Halloween."
"Tell me, how many votes do those nervous voices control?"
"No need to be petty, Albus."
"And there is certainly no need for this meeting, Cornelius." His quiet tone rang with authority. "I trust Grey implicitly. It would have been hard for him to be a useful ally while she was busy torturing him."
"I wonder if you would know, seeing as how she rendered you unconscious." Spitefully, Fudge went on. "He's not the only one. It has recently come to my attention that your Dark Arts teacher is a former … Watcher."
"He is," Dumbledore said carefully. He had discreetly hidden Giles' resume from the Ministry, knowing full well that a thousand years of bad blood would inevitably foul a necessary arrangement. "However, he resigned their employ to take the job here."
"I should think I do not have to remind you of the danger those buffoons pose to the Wizarding world."
"You and I disagree on that. Particularly after working closely with Rupert, I am more convinced than ever that the rift between the Ministry and the Watchers needs healing."
"Muggles dabbling in magic and myth. Absolutely absurd!"
Dumbledore sighed. "The world is not so simply divided between wizards and muggles, Cornelius, a fact that I have been unsuccessfully trying to explain to you for twenty years."
"They intrude on domains they have no business in! Domains best left to the supervision of qualified wizards."
"Not all who practice magic are a part of the wizarding world," Dumbledore said, "as not all of the wizarding world practices magic. In the end, their goals are the same as ours, and I very much believe we will require their assistance against the renewed threat of Voldemort."
"No matter what your radical beliefs, it cannot continue. The Ministry requires that you accept his resignation at once," Fudge said pompously.
"Rupert has been battling evil for much of his life," Dumbledore responded, his demeanor outwardly unruffled. Once again, though, Fudge had managed to get under his skin with his bureaucratic intransigence. "He is more accomplished than many of our own aurors and he greatly respects our way of life. His assistance has been invaluable this year. Beyond that, he is as fine a man and teacher as any I have known, and as long as I am here he will be welcome."
"You know I have supported you for a good long while, Albus. In spite of, I might add, fierce resistance to your eccentricities. Should you persist in challenging Ministry policy at every turn, however, I fear I may be left with little room to maneuver."
"What exactly are you saying, Minister?"
"I am saying that your continued willingness to defy our direction, either in its letter or spirit, could result in some rather drastic consequences."
Dumbledore was about to respond when the door to his office opened and Professor McGonagall led in a weathered, middle-aged man.
"Minerva?"
"Headmaster, this is Constable Worly of Hogsmeade. He needs a moment of your time regarding two of our students."