Author's Notes: Only (by my calculations) three to four more chapters to go! Wow! And I'm speed-writing like a demon. Hooray! For the 21st is fast approaching…

This is the honourary plot-twist-and-turn chapter that is evident in almost every SP fic. Except in this one there's going to be TWO honourary plot-twist-and-turn chapters, this being the first of those two. Please, enjoy. ^_^

***


Hermione, mercifully, had finally sunk into an exhausted slumber in the armchair by the fire. Ron hadn't the heart – or, quite frankly, the strength – to rouse her and carry her up to her chambers. He could only stand there, rooted to the spot in Dumbledore's now-empty office, staring into the swirling silver depths of the Pensieve and watching Hermione's memories play over and over again. Ron stared as Nicholas Foran's expression changed from good-natured to malicious, his lips curling into a sickening smirk. Ron knew that Hermione had valiantly tried to get her wand back, because the image of Foran suddenly turned upside down in the Pensieve. She had dived for her wand, but she obviously hadn't been able to get to it in time.

Everything briefly went black, and then the images blurred and dissolved into silver swirls once more. Ron stuck his wand into the basin and stirred it, ready to watch the horrific scene once more. It was just like when Bill had cracked his head open when Ron was six; it had been sickening to look at, yet he had been unable to tear his eyes away.

The sun had begun to pour into Dumbledore's office several hours ago, and Ron could hear the faint sounds of a bustling school beneath his feet. Hours had passed, and the previous night was beginning to slowly seem more and more like a distant nightmare to Ron. Yet he was still unable to look away from the Pensieve.

Perhaps he kept watching the memories in the Pensieve because logically, there was something missing. At first, Ron had thought it was the lack of motive: What did Foran have to gain by helping the Dark Hand? But Ron had quickly ruled out that notion. Foran had everything to gain…wealth, power, and respect. If he did in fact become Minister for Magic, Dameon Stark could offer Nicholas everything and anything. And Nicholas was from a long line of Purebloods. Perhaps Foran really believed in wizard superiority like the Dark Hand did - Nicholas Foran, the Head of the Department of Magical Law, the man to whom Moody and the Aurors reported to, and shared all of their secrets with. It made Ron nauseous.

Ron massaged his temples; he was completely exhausted, but there was no way he would allow himself to sleep. He already hated the idea of just standing by and waiting while the Aurors attempted to arrest Foran and interrogate him, and if Ron fell asleep, he could miss some important news. Part of him wished that he was there, that he could help…but he would not leave Hermione's side, not this time.

Ron shook his head to clear it. He leaned over the Pensieve, supporting his head with his fists and grinding his knuckles into his temples. He was missing something, and he knew it. Much to his chagrin, he had to admit that Sophia was right. Nick Foran couldn't, and wouldn't, do this. Why masquerade as Department Head for so long, if this had been his goal all along? Why act as prosecutor for the Council of Magical Law, and put away Death Eater after Death Eater, if he was only going to betray the Ministry in the end? Foran had worked his entire life to rise to the top in the Ministry of Magic. It just didn't make any sense.

Ron looked back into the Pensieve. Foran raised his arm again; triumphantly said the curse word again. A swish of his olive green robes, and then the image dissolved once more. Ron suddenly went rigid, his heart speeding up.

Green robes.

An Auror's greatest asset is his power of observation…Moody's old, familiar mantra repeated itself in Ron's mind. The former Auror closed his eyes and tried to reconstruct the banquet hall in the blackness behind his eyelids, just to be sure. Slowly, the scene re-materialized before him; the creamy white walls of the banquet hall, the polished marble underfoot, and the smooth granite pillars. Ron had been dragging Hermione through the crowd. He didn't remember taking in his surroundings at all; yet there they were, stored in his excellent memory in vivid detail. Ron had shoved aside a woman in canary yellow. He had bumped into a man with a pencil-thin moustache. Ron's eyes had briefly been drawn to Percy and his father, who had been wearing steel grey robes along with the rest of the department heads.

Ron's eyes flew open, and Dumbledore's office drew back into focus before him once more. Nicholas Foran, at the beginning of the night, had been wearing his official grey robes, as was customary of important peoples at the Ministry. The Foran in the Pensieve was wearing olive green robes.

His head spinning from the unexpected twists and turns that night had already provided, Ron rushed over to Hermione to wake her. His heart was thudding painfully against his ribcage.

Hermione didn't gradually come out of her deep sleep; rather, she bolted awake with a small gasp as Ron touched her arm. She clutched at the sleeve of his robe and curled her small, white fingers around the material.

"Stark!" she panted, gripping his arm tightly.

"Hermione, it wasn't Foran!" Ron blurted out before she could explain why she had cried out Stark's name. "His robes were different. It was someone else…they must have used Polyjuice…dammit, we were so rash and quick about it, we didn't even think…"

"I know," Hermione gasped out, rising from the chair with a strange, feverish strength. "I know now. It couldn't have been…Nick Foran couldn't have left something so Dark in me…"

"Sit down, you're ill," Ron commanded, his heart aching as he said it. But Hermione shook her head determinedly. As she did so, she suddenly cried out. "My head," Hermione gasped out, putting a hand to her temple. "It feels like it's going to split open…I don't feel right. I can still feel the curse. I can still feel him."

Ron's eyes widened as he finally understood.

"Stark," he said slowly, repeating Hermione's first words out of slumber. "Stark was wearing green robes." His voice was now dull and his eyes had lost their fire. Hermione swayed slightly on the spot and closed her eyes, trying to balance herself as Ron lapsed into a numb silence.

Suddenly he let out a furious sound and lashed out at the first thing he saw; Dumbledore's bookcase. Ron slammed his fist into the books, cursing, pounding at the wall of books again and again, until his knuckles bled. "I knew it was him! I knew it had to be him! I will kill him…I'm going to rip him and Malfoy apart!" Ron screamed, letting all of the emotions which had accumulated in him over the past few hours pour out in the anguished cry.

Before he knew it, Hermione's arms were around him; she, the weak one who was ill, had to comfort him. Feeling strangely hollow, Ron briefly closed his eyes and then pulled away from her, his jaw clenched.

"We have to get to the Ministry," Hermione said faintly. "Before they arrest Foran, before it's too late…"

"We? You are not going anywhere," Ron said firmly, drawing his wand to Disapparate.

"Yes," said Hermione determinedly, fixing her eyes on his. They blazed with anger and resolve. "I'm partly responsible for this. I have to go. And I refuse to let them get away with taking advantage of me. I want revenge as badly as you do, Ron."

"But you can't even stand upright!" Ron argued desperately. He would not let her risk her health again. And they were wasting time by fighting.

"I'm coming." Her dark eyes met his again. "You won't leave me here alone," she said with quiet confidence.

Ron balled his fists. She was right: she did deserve revenge, and to be a part of solving the problem, just as much as he did. But Ron did not want to sacrifice Hermione's well-being.

It's too late, he reminded himself painfully. You already did that when you let her out of your sight at the banquet.

They were wasting precious seconds. "We can't Apparate," Ron said as he exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "I lost my Auror's priviledges way back, so we'd both get splinched if we tried Apparating out of here."

"Well then we have to get outside the Hogwarts gates."

Ron paused, then raised his wand and, praying his broom was still intact, commanded, "Accio Firebolt!"

Sure enough, the sleek, beautiful creation glided through the open window, battered but not broken after Ron's wild ride earlier that morning. It hovered patiently in front of it's owner, who glanced at Hermione anxiously. "Do you think you'll be okay on this thing?"

Hermione rewarded him with a faint smile which lit up her pale, gaunt face. "I'll take my chances."

"I'll fly us down to outside the gates," Ron murmured in explanation. "And we'll Apparate to the Ministry as soon as we're off Hogwarts grounds. You know the co-ordinates to Apparate there?"

Hermione nodded impatiently. She strolled forward and mounted the broom unsteadily, taking a shaky breath as Ron hopped on behind her, his hands firmly around her waist.

"I love you," she said suddenly, reaching out to squeeze Ron's hand before they would take off.

Ron felt her weak grip and saw the struggle just to keep herself from passing out written all over her face. He squeezed back and released her cool, dry palm, feeling guilt wrack his nerves. "Merlin only knows why," he muttered in reply.

The broom gracefully rose higher into the air, a nervous Hermione suddenly clutching the handle of the broom and holding on tightly. Ron leaned forward on the Firebolt, and they shot out the open window, speeding towards the Hogwarts gates and to grounds on which they could Apparate to the Ministry of Magic.

***

"This way."

They had Apparated into an empty corridor in the Ministry of Magic, one that Ron immediately recognized. Grasping Hermione's limp hand in his own, he hurried down the hall and automatically turned a corner, hoping that they would not be seen. Questions from a curious Ministry employee would only cost them time.

"Where are we going?" Hermione asked, her breath coming in short pants.

"The lower levels," Ron answered, abruptly halting.

They stood before a familiar wall, completely covered in portraits of Aurors past and present, receivers of the Order of Merlin, and members of Dumbledore's old Order of the Phoenix. Not an inch of the actual wall was visible; in fact, it appeared that the wall itself was made up entirely of picture frames. Countless faces peered out at them, some curious, some only with vague interest, some ignoring them all together. Most of the wizards on the wall looked fairly normal, but there were also some strange characters with scarred faces, wild hair, missing eyebrows, and other bizarre abnormalities. Many of the portraits had been painted once the Auror it depicted had retired, and most of those people were sleeping soundly.

Ron had committed many of the portraits to memory, having stood before this wall countless times in the past few years. Up there were the images of his idols and heroes; not including the Chudley Cannons, of course, who Ron had fought to make honourary members of the wall. Needless to say, there was still no violent orange up there.

Shaking away his brief bout of nostalgia, Ron immediately reached for his wand and tapped the portrait of Avi Arabbees, 1852-1898.

"Di Sancteus Aurorum," Ron chanted quickly.

Hermione stepped backwards in surprise as the wall and its portraits completely vanished before their eyes. Not waiting for a millisecond, Ron grabbed her hand again and quickly led her into a dark tunnel. Very few torches were scattered here and there along the damp walls. The portrait wall re-formed once again behind them, very much solid again, and Ron tugged Hermione forward.

"I hope they haven't done anything rash to Foran yet…" Ron muttered to himself as he led Hermione through the twisting labyrinth of tunnels.

"They won't hurt him, will they?" Hermione asked, a guilty tone evident in her voice.

Ron considered chastising her for blaming herself once again; it was not her fault that she had been deceived. But instead, he only replied, "No. They won't hurt him." There was a moment of silence as they continued to rush through the complex secret passage, and then Ron commented, "Something still doesn't make sense. If Foran wasn't the Dark Hand's inside source, then how did they know that the scrolls were at Hogwarts, or that they were hidden in that chamber?"

Hermione didn't reply, as much at loss for an answer as he was.

They finally came to a rough door, hewn into the stone of the passageway, and extremely easy to miss. This door had always stuck, Ron remembered. He shoved at it with his shoulder, never releasing Hermione's hand, and prayed that it would budge. It gave way after the fourth shove with a very loud creak.

They emerged into the familiar, lower levels of the Ministry of Magic: Auror headquarters. The dimly lit corridors were somewhat nicer than the rough, crudely made maze of tunnels they had just emerged from. But they were not there to admire the architecture. Ron suddenly faltered, at a loss. Where did they go from there?

The mark on Ron's wrist suddenly burned; Harry was close by. Navigated by instinct more than anything, Ron immediately started to head down the corridor on their left, which was lined with wooden doors. He heard voices up ahead and sped up, dragging poor Hermione along with him, and then burst through the doors.

Hermione screamed as a male voice automatically shouted, "Cadutare!"

Suddenly Ron was staring at the ceiling from the cold, hard floor, winded and dizzy. An exclamation of recognition, and rough hands quickly helped him to his feet. Ron blinked away his dizziness, feeling irritated, only to see Hermione with her fingers wrapped around her own wand. She was breathing heavily out of her nose.

The room was small and cramped, with dozens of maps held up against the walls with magic. A wooden table took up most of the space in the room, and it was sagging under the weight of several books, files, diagrams, and rolls of parchment. Poring over these was a man who Ron quickly recognized as the American history buff, Jonathan Ford.

"Fancy seeing you two here," Diana commented, leaning over a cauldron with a handful of some unidentifiable silver powder in her fist. Hermione finally relaxed and released her wand, letting her arm fall to her side and leaning against the wall in exhaustion. Harry and Sirius, who had helped Ron up, stared at him incredulously.

"Ron, Hermione – " Harry began in surprise.

"What are you doing here?" Sirius demanded.

"Where's Moody?" Ron asked urgently.

"Making the arrest with the others – "

"Dammit!" Ron exclaimed frantically. He proceeded to quickly spill out the details – about the Pensieve, Foran's robes, and Hermione crying out Stark's name. Sirius' eyebrows kept rising higher and higher up on his forehead.

"Of course!" Sirius groaned when Ron had finished, slamming his fist on the table and startling Mr. Ford, who had seemed unperturbed by the commotion up until then. "That's why they only put a Block on her…it would have seemed suspicious if she remembered everything…yet they didn't want her to forget. They counted on us getting it out of her somehow, and she would tell us it was Foran…it was all so carefully planned…"

"Except Stark made the mistake of doing his own dirty work," Hermione said from the doorway, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

"He probably enjoyed it," Ron spat in disgust, feeling fury well up in him once more.

"So he must have used Polyjuice Potion to look like Nick, but he forgot to change his robes," Harry repeated to himself, going over the facts in his head. "Idiot," he muttered.

"Foran was wearing his grey robes like the rest of the Department Heads, remember?" Ron said to Harry.

"Well, thanks for bringing the evidence with you," Diana said dryly.

"As if I was going to lug a Pensieve all the way here!" Ron said wildly.

"But with no evidence…" Diana reminded them half-heartedly.

"We have Ron's word," Harry said firmly. Diana looked taken aback at first, but then quickly recovered and threw her hands into the air, giving up.

"There's no time for this. We have to get upstairs before they arrest him," Sirius said sharply.

"Go," Harry said urgently to his godfather, crossing over to one of the maps. "We'll start on trying to figure out where the hell Stark is…" He sighed deeply, looking lost as he stared at the various maps.

Sirius nodded, took a step back from all of them, and Disapparated.

Diana let the ladle she had been stirring the cauldron with fall out of her hands and into the vat. "Well, there's no point in me brewing this anymore…"

"Keep going, we may need it still," Ron said, joining Harry by the maps. Hermione finally sunk into the chair next to Ford, who was still engulfed in his own little world as his beady eyes darted back and forth across the parchment he was studying.

"So who was their source?" Harry asked in frustration, scanning the maps hopelessly. "They had to have had a source to tell them that the scrolls were at Hogwarts, in that chamber…"

"That's what I said. But we'll find out soon enough, I suppose," Ron said, feeling the tips of his fingers tingle with the urgency he felt. "Listen, they've made a move, and now it's our turn to move our own pieces."

Harry groaned. "Always chess…"

Ron ignored him. "The question is…where do we move them to? Where would Stark hide?" he murmured, touching the map and running his prickling fingers over it. "Where would Malfoy hide?"

"The Manor," said Hermione in a far-off voice.

Ron snorted derisively. "If Malfoy Manor was still standing, I'm sure he would."

"No…that's where they're going to do it," Hermione said dreamily, slowly shaking her head and making her already wild, tousled locks fly in front of her face. "The Manor…Stark Manor…"

"What makes you think that?" Diana demanded curiously, adding something repulsive-looking to her potion without a second thought.

Hermione snapped out of it and blinked several times, staring at them. "I don't know," she admitted, shrugging her shoulders. "It just…I don't know," she flushed red and lapsed into silence, glancing over at what Mr. Ford was so absorbed in.

"You know, it's not such a wild suggestion. If you were Stark and were planning to kill off Muggle civilization, wouldn't you want to do it from the comfort of your own home?" Ron asked sarcastically.

It was not intended to be humourous in the least; but sarcasm allowed Ron to disguise his fear, and disguise it he had to. Harry gave him a concerned glance after this cynical, yet morbid comment, and then returned his gaze to the maps. With an absent-minded wave of his wand, Harry caused the map in front of him and a map across the room to slowly peel off the walls and exchange places. Harry stared hard at the new map in front of him as it flattened itself onto the wall.

"I know Stark's got a huge place in Dartmoore, that posh little village in the country near Dover…do you think…" Harry trailed off, contemplative. He suddenly looked up and around anxiously. "Where's Sirius? I hope he got there in time…"

"You've writing this down all wrong," said Hermione suddenly in her familiar, bossy, know-it-all way. Surprised at this, Ron glanced over his shoulder at her and a staggered Mr. Ford. Hermione was pointing at the scribbled notes he was making while reading off of a very battered-looking piece of parchment.

"You copied down, 'at the wrong time, your actions may be overturned'," Hermione said, pointing to his notes, "but it clearly says, 'if the time is wrong, your actions may be reversed'. Really, they're two very different things. Your note-taking skills are horrible."

Perhaps, like Ron, Hermione was desperately attempting to hide her fear by doing things that were familiar and comfortable to her; pointing out other's errors in the ways of note-taking being one of her favourite things to do. But Ron did not dismiss the incident immediately, because Mr. Ford was looking at Hermione with stunned bewilderment in his eyes.

"You can read Scurian?" he breathed, eyes shining.

Hermione frowned. "What? No, it's right there in plain English…"

These happenings had now caught both Diana and Harry's attention; the two of them craned their necks to look at the parchment Mr. Ford had been studying. It was full of bold, complicated-looking symbols which looked vaguely familiar to Ron.

"I don't know what sort of English they taught you at Muggle schools," Diana said, eyebrows raised, "but the English I learned didn't look anything like that."

Hermione peered closely at the writing again, squinting at it as if really seeing it for the first time. Within seconds, she had blanched and pulled away as if the writing had burned her eyes. "Oh…" was all she could manage to choke out, shocked.

Ron vaguely remembered a theory Mundungus Fletcher had spoke of before his retirement, when Ron was still a kid, an Auror-in-training. Mundungus had theorized that the Unforgiveables left some sort of residual of the person who had cast the curse within the victim, particularly if it had been a very strong curse. And old Mundungus had known what he was talking about; he had always used Harry as an example, the proof being in Harry's ability to speak Parseltongue.

If Dameon Stark was indeed the leader of the Dark Hand, then he had to have some knowledge of Scuro's secret language. If had been Stark who had cursed Hermione…and if he had performed a very strong Unforgiveable on her…

Harry swore softly under his breath. "My God. Stark transferred some of his abilities to her," he said, unconsciously raising his fingers to the scar on his forehead.

Hermione looked thoroughly frightened again, her cheeks and lips bloodless. She clenched at the table she sat at with white fingers. "That's what I felt," she said raspily, "that Dark thing inside of me…it was him."

Ron felt sick.

"Can you read it, then?" Mr. Ford asked eagerly, shoving the parchment beneath Hermione's nose. "I've been attempting to translate the language along with a colleague of mine back in the States…we haven't made much progress, I'll admit. This is an amazing breakthrough, you realize – "

"Shut up," snapped Ron, hurrying to Hermione's side. "You're all right? Do you want to go back to Hogwarts? Can you – "

"Weasley, stop fretting over your girlfriend for a second, will you?" Diana interrupted peevishly. "She's a big girl, and she can take care of herself. Not to mention that we now have an unexpected asset here…"

"We're not dragging her into this!" Ron said adamantly.

"I think it's a bit late for that," Diana pointed out; but her voice had suddenly lost its coldness and it seemed that she had tried to say it as gently as possible. It was the truth, after all. Ron clamped his mouth shut and clenched his teeth.

"Now, Granger…" Diana said. "When you mentioned the Manor before, was that just a random thought? Where exactly did it come from?"

"It…just popped into my head," Hermione admitted, some colour returning to her face. Obviously she considered herself a 'big girl' as well, and her new usefulness in the situation seemed to have just dawned on her. "It could have been something I heard, in my mind while I was…under the curse, or just something I…absorbed, I suppose." With renewed interest, she looked back towards the tattered papers Ford had been studying. "What is this?" she asked.

"A collection of correspondences," Ford said breathlessly, his black moustache twitching and his eyes illuminated behind his thick spectacles, "to and from members of the Dark Hand. We suspect they were written sometime during the seventieth century, once the Dark Hand had already been established for quite some time. We theorize that…well, these letters may contain instructions on how to perform the rituals associated with the Scrolls of Scuro."

Hermione's eyes slowly moved across the yellowed pages, murmuring to herself as she did so in a mysterious and dark-sounding language. Her whispers in the foreign tongue had a seductive edge to them; the language sounded entrancing, full of rolled r's and long, melodious words. Yet there was a certain haunting quality to the language as well; an eeriness to the sounds that seemed to reflect itself in Hermione's eyes as she murmured to herself.

As she neared the bottom of the letter, Hermione's brown eyes grew round and her hands trembled in excitement. "It can be reversed!" she finally cried in relief. "The letter just says that if it's not time…I mean, if they used the scrolls and the time is not right, there is a safety mechanism to reverse the process – "

"What is it?" Ron demanded eagerly, a wave of relief sweeping over him. Even if they were too late, there was a way to change it…

"It has to be done soon after they are read," Hermione explained, a frown beginning to form on her ashen face. "Very soon, in order to reverse their effects. This line is giving me trouble though…'The reversal is surprisingly simple. To undo what you have done, you have only to read between the lines.'" Hermione pushed her dishevelled hair out of her eyes and furrowed her eyebrows. "That's not exactly right, of course; it's difficult to put into English. But what does it mean…read between the lines of what? The letter? Is there a deeper meaning in this letter that I'm missing…?"

Meanwhile, Ford's eyes were shining; he dreamily pushed another piece of parchment covered in strange writing in front of Hermione. "And this one?" he asked her with bated breath.

Before Ron could object to Hermione acting as translator for Ford's entire collection, Jameson Howe burst into the cramped room, cheeks ruddy. "Sirius got there just as we were about to arrest Nick," he announced, a bit breathless. "Just in the nick of time. Foran's been informed of everything, and we came down here immediately - they're waiting for all of you out here."

Diana immediately dropped her ladle into the cauldron again, and Harry and Ron both grabbed a protesting Mr. Ford under his arms and hoisted him out of his seat. Hermione also quickly rose and then stumbled, dizzy. But she latched onto Ron and was able to follow the group as they quickly made their way into the torch-lit corridor.

Waiting in the dim hallway were Nicholas Foran, Moody, Sirius, and Ron's fellow Aurors. Joel and Jeremy, the rookies of the Order, had re-joined the group. Sophia Foran was nowhere in sight. The people before him were some of Ron's truest friends, and had been his honourary family for nearly seven years. He respected and trusted these people, and he knew that they would not let Hermione and the rest of the Muggles slip away, fall into war and chaos and death. Ron caught Owen Darnell's eye, and the Scotsman's grim smile of encouragement seemed to give him strength and push away some of his fatigue.

Ron turned his gaze back to Nick; he had never seen a more furious Nicholas Foran. But he was not furious, as Ron immediately thought, because his peers had just attempted to arrest him. On closer inspection, Ron could see that Foran's anger was not directed at the mass of peoples around him, but at whatever twisted soul who had tried to frame him for an atrocious crime that he would never in a thousand lifetimes commit.

"You say it was Stark?" was the first thing out of Nicholas Foran's mouth as Ron stepped into the hallway. Foran's voice was shaking with anger, and his eyes were blazing. This was the Nicholas Foran who Ron saw in court, the unrelenting prosecutor who could reduce a hardened criminal to tears with his hard, fiery glare. There were two sides to Nicholas – the somewhat dull and seemingly emotionless man people saw around the Ministry, and the intense, authoritative leader of the Council of Magical Law, who was almost as passionate as Moody when it came to capturing and punishing Dark wizards.

The Dark Hand had succeeded in rudely awakening the part of Nick Foran that Ron would never want to cross.

"Yes, sir," Ron answered bleakly. "It was Stark."

"It's something Albus and I have suspected for quite some time," Moody grunted. "So it's no surprise. What makes you so sure though, Weasley?"

Ron quickly explained about the robes, though he left out the part about Hermione's unexpected connection to her attacker. There was a brief silence once he had finished, and then Foran spoke again, sharply.

"We would, of course, need the Pensieve as evidence," he pointed out. Ron's heart sunk; he was nearly exhausted from Apparating all over the place, and dragging the Pensieve back to the Ministry was no easy feat. "However," Foran continued. "We haven't the time for that, and quite frankly, Mr. Weasley, your word is all the evidence I need at the moment." Ron sighed in relief.

"Well, Alastor? What now?" Foran's question cut through the temporary silence in the passageway.

"We have no other leads," Moody grunted. "We don't know how Stark would have known that the scrolls were hidden at Hogwarts, or that the chamber they were hidden in could only be opened during the full moon."

"Or how in the hell he got a piece of Nick to brew Polyjuice a la Foran," Sirius added.

"And we're running out of time," Robbie Murdock said, his grey eyes flickering to his watch. "It's nearly two o'clock in the afternoon. It'll be dark in only a few hours."

"So, in short, we have nothing," Radcliff Mungston said grimly.

"We have Hermione," Harry abruptly said.

All eyes slowly turned to stare at the shivering mess that was Hermione Granger. Her eyes were wild and feverish, her complexion had turned from ashen to grey, she could barely stand, and she was shaking like mad.

"We think Stark left a residual of himself in her," Harry explained, reaching to put a hand on Hermione's shoulder, squeezing it and trying to lend his friend comfort. Ron tightened his hold on Hermione's waist. She ceased trembling and her breathing started evening out. She knew she was surrounded and protected by the two men she cared for most in the world. Ron saw Diana's eyes resting on the picture of support the trio made, and he almost thought he saw a flicker of something like envy in her dark, veiled eyes.

"She seems to think that the rituals will be performed at Stark Manor," Harry continued quietly.

"You're sure, Harry?" Radcliff said skeptically. "Why would Stark do it in his own home? I mean, sure he's an idiot, but he's not that foolish – "

"Because he made a crucial error. He underestimated his opponents," Ron said with some satisfaction. "Stark put a flimsy Memory Block on Hermione, expecting us to break it. We did, and we saw what he wanted us to see – Nick putting her under Imperio. So right now Stark's most likely drinking champagne with his pal Malfoy, thinking that he's pulled off some amazing stunt and that we're probably arresting Nick right now, without a single suspicion of him."

"He was idiotic enough to assume that we wouldn't figure out that it wasn't Nicholas at all…because we would have," Harry added, looking apologetically at Foran. "We would have known pretty quickly that it wasn't you, Mr. Foran. All of us had huge doubts to begin with. We're lucky that Ron caught the screw-up with the robes…it just bought us a bit more time." He took a deep breath. "And Stark sure as hell didn't count on Hermione getting a piece of him when he performed Imperius."

"But how do you know that, Harry?" Radcliff demanded. But there was a note of intrigue, and perhaps hope, in the dark man's rough voice.

"She can speak Scurian, for one," Mr. Ford said breathlessly. The clump of grizzled hairs above Moody's eyes - which had, at one point, perhaps been eyebrows - shot up.

"Well," said Mad-Eye, both stunned and impressed. Hermione blushed, bringing some faint colour back into her cheeks, and her eyes dropped to the floor.

"We're wasting time," Diana pointed out, her feminine voice clear and high compared to the male ones. "I'll be the first to admit that we have little to no evidence, and this is probably the stupidest risk any of us will ever take…" she trailed off, staring at Hermione, or perhaps at Harry's hand on her shoulder. "But it's the only risk we have to take right now. And we're running out of time."

"So you're suggesting that…what? We raid Stark Manor in the hopes of finding a bunch of Dark Hand aficionados romping about?" Ian Dion asked, sounding unsure.

"I liked you better when you didn't talk at all," Diana said wryly.

"You have a better suggestion, Ian?" Jameson asked.

"All I know," Ian snapped, "is that my mother is a Muggle, and I don't want to waste time, and possibly risk her life, on the hope that this girl is right."

Hermione was certainly no longer a girl; yet she looked it, small and frail and clinging to Ron. Ian's voice shook with emotion despite his harsh words, and his eyes were filled with fear.

Ron fixed his own panic-filled eyes on Ian's. "Then we're in the same boat, mate," he said quietly. "Because I don't want to risk this girl's life on the hope that she's right. But I'm going to."

Ian was silent, and after a long pause, he drew his wand as a signal that he was prepared to Disapparate, if need be. One by one, the others gathered there silently did the same. It was only then that Ron noted Dumbledore's absence, and he briefly wondered where the Headmaster could have been.

"I'm coming too," Hermione rasped out, struggling to stand without Ron's assistance. She managed to draw her own wand.

"No – " Ron began, but Nicholas held up his hand.

"She was wronged, just as I was," he said in a clipped voice. "She was used. And she deserves revenge."

"Not…to mention," Hermione panted, "that whether I like it or…not, I have a bit of Stark…in my head. And I can speak…Scurian." She had much difficulty getting the words out, and every breath she took seemed to cause her acute pain. Ron's heart ached for her; and yet he knew what he had to do. Hermione was their only chance. In order to save her life, Ron was going to have to allow her to risk it.

"Where are the co-ordinates, exactly Harry?" Ron asked, briefly closing his eyes. Harry rattled them off, and then fell silent, as if waiting for further instruction.

"All right," Moody grunted. "Remember that we could be pursuing a false lead, which means you don't attack unless attacked. Keep on your toes. Our objective is to get the scrolls and get out, with as few injuries and/or casualties as possible. Understood?"

"Understood," several voices grimly echoed back.

Moody drew his own wand. "After this," he promised. "I'm retiring for good."

Mr. Ford took a step backward. Where several people in dark cloaks had just stood, there was now emptiness and silence.

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DA NA NA!!!!!!

I love doing that.

Hope you guys enjoyed those little twists and turns and, more importantly, hope that chapter made sense to everyone. Please let me know if it was too confusing…I'm afraid that I packed way too much information into one chapter. By the way, to answer a question: Ron and Harry's bond still exists, it didn't just disappear when Diana became Harry's new partner. That's why Ron was able to Apparate to Harry in Egypt, and how Ron called Harry to him the night Hermione was under Imperius. The bond is a bit weaker now, because they're no longer partners and always together, but it's still there and still pretty strong because they're such good friends. ^_^ Hope that helps! Any other questions I'll be glad to answer! I know some stuff gets confusing.

And now, to the deserving people who didn't get shout-outs last chapter…

TamaraR: Well they found Foran, but there was no butt-kicking involved. Though that does spawn a funny mental picture, come to think of it…

Kae: You like Canada, you like my parodies, you like this fic, and you wanted a shout-out. So here it is, my friend. Bless you for having an interest in Cross Country Canada. You guys have absolutely no idea what you're missing out on with that game.

LadyoftheLake: You have been awaiting patiently, and so you get shout-out. ^_^

Moine Weasley: Your review for Chp. 19 was completely pointless, yet amusing. Well done.

Daggerquill: Forgotten no longer! Thanks for all the awesome reviews! ^_^

The Purple Fuzzy: Yes! I get so excited when anyone says that I capture stuff perfectly and/or that they're a Harry/Diana shipper. I'm so happy when people ship original characters! Usually people are like, "Ew, you cannot pair up an original with a canon character, because they will ultimately slip into that horrible, horrible Mary Sue hell." And yet you believe in me. I salute you. And yes…what happened to Harry in Egypt will be explained soon. ^_~

Moon Goddess: You get a shout-out not only in thanks for your reviews, but also because I know the horrible anxiety of black-outs. Godspeed, Moon Goddess. Godspeed…

Carlyd: Your review got me thinking, and inspired a little scene in my head in an upcoming chapter. So good job!

Alexandria Reese: You also rock!

Amy Clearwater: Good to know that I've somehow become better than daytime soaps. My life goal has been achieved.

Herbie: Well, you've read every chapter and that's what counts! Though reviews are also nice. ^_^

SusieQ: Aw, thanks for going back and reviewing all of my fics! Sorry about the lack of smut…this fic ended up being more serious than originally planned, and hence a bit less smutty.

Araedhel: I gave you a shout-out last chapter, so technically you shouldn't be getting another one, but someone who goes back and reviews random chapters again out of boredom deserves some sort of honourable mention. Well done.

Enelya: You also got one last chap, but…interesting quotes. Maybe I can use them…

The Man-Eating Dust Bunny: You got one last chap, too, but I have to give you the Honourary plot-twist-and-turn-chapter Award for predicting the honourary plot-twist-and-turn. You guessed that Foran was really someone else under Imperius, and you guessed rightly. Excellent work! Can't fool you…

Ritzel: Last person to receive a double shout-out! But…OH MY GOD! I'VE TOTALLY SEEN THAT MOVIE! And believe it or not, if we're talking about the same movie…THAT MOVIE IS THE MOVIE THAT PARTLY INSPIRED THIS FIC! LMAO! Did it have the guy that discovered the vaccine on it, and a little thingy about kids in a third-world country getting some crazy virus in the sewage and how they still have a Polio virus locked up someplace and it's gonna escape and unleash horror on the world at some point? Because that's the video I watched. Lmao, I will laugh so hard if it's the same one. Good job with the muttering! Heh, Bio partner.

That's it, that's all! Sorry it took so long to update – I had some document manager difficulties, as you might know if you happen to read the updates on my author's page. Stupid document manager…

Ahem. Please review! ^_^