We are all caught up in an inescapable web of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever effects one directly effects all indirectly. ~ Martin Luther King

Chapter Five

The birds were quiet today. There was no chirping, no singing, no glimpse at all of them. Was it time for them to migrate to the South? Adela mused idly.

It was not four days that she had reached home. Already, she could feel the winds of change in the seasons more acutely here than in the city. There was not a stir in the trees. Still and silent, she did not feel oppressed or intimidated. She knew the hills too well. She had not seen them for years. Nevertheless, she felt no uneasiness adjusting back to life in the village.

Uncle Samuel and Aunt Martha persuaded her to rest for at least a week before she started work in the school comprising of only fifty or so students. There were at present two school attendants and a teacher, with indication that Mrs. Fallow was retiring. Uncle Samuel had spoken to the village counsel and they had agreed to let Adela try the soon-to-be vacant position. Things were passing smoothly.

Sitting on a patch of grass, she took out Lindsay's email she had printed out. Her friend would be one of the few links left to the outside world.

{Hilton Hotel, Toronto, Canada

Unit 10-08

Dear Adela,

Hello there! I've just arrived in Canada. It's a lovely place.

Forgive me if this email/letter is incoherent, as I'm certain it will be. It's been eons since I have typed a letter. It is terrible to think that in this day and age, there's a little village my friend lives in where there is no electricity except in the Common House, or whatever you folks name it. None! I won't be able to survive a week in your condition.

Canada's lovely, beautiful. Henry keeps taking pictures. We're having heaps of fun exploring this place. We've been to Chinatown, to the border and sin of sins, the shopping centres, malls they call them. Anyhow, it's a whirl getting around. A real lark. I'm writing this to you in the middle of the night. Aren't you touched?

We're hoping to go Quebec, the French-speaking areas. I'm going to put my French to exhaustive practice. Henry says my accent is atrocious. Don't worry. I've taught him his lesson.

So dearie, we're looking after ourselves very well. That is to say, we've not gotten lost, nor have we managed to starve ourselves. The prices here are reasonable. The present exchange rate is used to maximal advantage.

So take care. I'm assuming you'll get this letter before we leave Canada. I expect you to write back.

Hugs, Lindsay.

P.S. Henry sends his happy regards.

P.P.S. Henry says he'll keep his eyes open for nice lads, and beautiful girls for himself at the same time.

P.P.P.S. I have whacked Henry.}

There was a huge grin on Adela's face by the end of the letter. Dear old Lindsay. She had the rare gift of openness and frankness. She decided to write back that evening.

The winds tugged at her hair playfully as she sank blissfully into the scenery, a fragment of the picture, a drop in the ocean. There was a serenity in her home, untouched by any hideous mark. She wished the world could be more at peace with itself like the people in the village. However, she understood that all colours coexisted here. Whether, bad or good, they contributed to life.

'That's what makes life miraculous,' she said out loud. Lingering about for a while, she headed back to help her aunt tidy the house.

***

Iunis Snape passed away two days after Severus arrived home. The funeral was a short one. Subdued even. The Snape family did not invite anyone save Iunis' relations. Hence, the gathering was small and united in its grief.

The funeral was carried out in the late afternoon. As the golden sun shone on, each member, dressed in sombre black paid his last respects. Severus wished he could have had worn a set of clothes that showed his lament. After all, black was his standard colour. When it was his turn to look at his grandfather, he saw calmness mark his face. He had died without regrets. He recalled laughing with his grandfather, talking with him and embracing him.

He bade farewell.

Severus stayed on for another two days to assist in the aftermath of the proceedings. The day following the funeral, he sat with his siblings in the library sorting out letters of condolences.

'The Ministry's the worst,' Tsenoh groaned. He tossed letter after letter into a velvet sack. 'All empty sincerity and hollow comfort.'

'I blame Fudge. He chooses the shallowest men to become the head of each department. At least, Weaseley's one is decent.' Adaman replied. She deliberately tossed some letters into the fire. At Tsenoh's arched eyebrow, she shrugged. 'McNairs.'

'Indeed. Malfoys.' Tsenoh toasted them with his wand.

'Weaseley's one of the few sane voices left in the Ministry.' Severus agreed. He put Dumbledore's message in a box. 'One of the few fighting Voldemort.'

The family had reached a consensus that they should accept Severus' past and move on. Severus could not describe his gratefulness. It was not solely that they did it due to Iunis' urging. He could discern that in their hearts, he held his place in the family once more.

His brother and sister contemplated his last observation.

'Yes,' Adaman said. 'We need more wizards like him more than ever.'

The next day, Severus decided to return to Hogwarts. After thanking each family member, and making it a priority to see his nephew, he walked out into the grounds with Adaman.

Severus chuckled.

'What is it?'

'It's ironic. I came here expecting another round of expulsion.'

Adaman said gravely, 'That is nothing to laugh about.'

'You know what I mean.'

'Yes.'

'I thought you were going to continue that chilling attitude towards me. I thought everyone, including Grandpa, would.'

'You should have known better after we've asked for you.'

'Perhaps. But it was rather harsh to send it through Professor Dumbledore.'

Adaman hesitated. She admitted, 'We didn't know how you would handle it. We failed you in many ways.'

'You've raised me with the best of intentions. I did not appreciate them.'

'We were not there for you when you needed help most. I know Grandfather has always been secretly thankful the Headmaster had you under his wing.'

'It is over sister. Let it go.'

'Do you forgive us?'

'There is nothing to forgive.'

'Severus, don't.'

'Forgiveness does not change the past, but it does enlarge the future.'

Adaman was slightly disorientated for a while. She frowned at the familiar sentence before comprehension dawned. 'Paul Boese.'

'Only the brave know how to forgive; it is the most refined and generous pitch of virtue human nature can arrive at.'

'Laurence Stern.'

'You see?' Severus smiled. 'We're learning.'

Adaman nodded. 'For a Slytherin, you know amazingly plenty about Muggle life.' Embracing him, she said, 'Know that you always have a home here.'

'Thank you.'

'You look tired. You've been busy in Hogwarts. I thought teaching should be easy.'

'Not when each student is a tyrant.'

'What, against out Potions Master? I know, you've been doing things in secrecy. Dark things.'

Severus wondered how to answer his sister. He did not like to lie to her. He must have contemplated over it too long, for Adaman said quietly, 'I've hit it, then.'

'Adaman, there are things. . .'

'I know.' Adaman's hand rested on his arm, 'There are things you cannot mention. About what you do. I have an inkling. Only take care. Go now brother. You are in the light now, stay there.'

Severus bowed to her, 'Goodbye. Till we meet again.'

He Disapparated.

***

'Oh, thank you Uncle!' Adela clapped her hands, 'It's wonderful.'

'I'm glad you like it.'

Adela opened the cover of the old-fashioned styled pianoforte. Set in a rectangular box, it fitted into the corner of the house neatly. Lifting the cover, she tinkled with the keys. They sounded clear and sonorous.

'Did it cost much?'

'Not a farthing. I picked it at the flea market. Was in bad shape then. Took it to old Ben to fix it for me, strings, keys and all.'

Aunt Martha was setting the table. She lit the candlesticks. 'Play it for us after supper.'

So Adela did. It was a rare sight in view in a little cottage in a small village of harmony and quiet contentment. Life was always simpler in the rural parts. As she played, Uncle smoked his pipe and pored over the week's papers while Aunt Martha pounded on wheat dough in advance for breakfast the next day. Dandelions Adela picked from the woods were blooming in a pretty clay vase on the table.

The peace was rudely shatterred by an insistent pounding on the front door.

'Sam! For God's sake, open the door,' a ragged voice roared. More indistinct voices were heard outside.

Nighttime in the village was a private affair. To disturb one's neighbours meant something ominous had happened among them. Uncle Samuel got off his seat and unlocked the door hurriedly.

Several men stood outside. Some had strained expressions. Others showed anxiety. Not all were wearing hats, a greater indication of the severity of the agitation that had taken place.

'What in the Queen's name. . .?'

'Sam, come outside and we'll talk.' Joshua, the man who had first called for Uncle Samuel, whispered urgently. 'How about you coming inside to talk?'

'Bain't for them ladies to hear.' Old carpenter Ben, sixty but still strong as an ox, was visibly shaken.

'Well. . .' Uncle Samuel threw a stealthy glance at Aunt Martha and Adela. 'They'll hear it if they want.'

'Of course,' said Aunt Martha irritably, 'I'm not faint of heart, and Adela's lived in the city. What is it?'

The men exchanged furtive looks. Then, one of them cleared his throat loudly, 'It's that man, Mr. Bidmarck.'

'Well?'

'He's dead.'

'Well?'

As though something had been unleashed, they started talking simultaneously.

'Bain't natural Samuel. . .'

'An ill wind's a blowing. Don't like what we saw. . .'

'Lying on the floor he was. . . all rigid as a stone. . .'

'And them eyes. . . I'll have them nightmares now. . . not a heart attack I reckon. . . something worse. . .'

'. . .something evil I say. . .'

'A bad moon a rising. . .'

Mystery surrounded Mr. Mark Bidmarck. Unlike the long-settled families living in the village, he was a stranger who came to live with them some fifteen years ago. He was a grim-faced person, tall and ashen, with eyebrows always a perpetual frown and thin lips pressed together. Like a crow shoving its way among the doves, he bought a house occupied by a caretaker after the death of an old inhabitant who had no kin. It was bad enough that he was an outsider. That alone would have gained the mistrust of the close-knit community. In addition, he was a recluse, shutting himself all day. He did not interact with anyone, except the old servant Clara Polgrey who was hired to buy his groceries, nor did he welcome visitors. To top it off, he committed the crime of closing his windows.

From the disoriented accounts given by the men, Adela's family gathered that there was something odious about Bidmarck's death. Coupled to the fact that Halloween was approaching, the villagers were even more nervous.

'Where is he then?' Uncle Samuel asked.

'Still lying there. None of us dare touch him.'

'Alright, one of you go to the Common Court to telephone for an ambulance from town. I'll go see Mr. Bidmarck.'

'Shall I accompany you uncle?' Adela asked.

'No, Adela, you stay with your aunt. I'll be back soon.'

'No, we'll go along.' Aunt Martha took out her shawl. 'There's still Clara. It's better for a woman to be there. Take your shawl Adela.'

'Oh.' Joshua fumbled, 'Yes, it's good of you to come. Clara's all affright. She's cowering in a corner of the house.'

When they arrived at Mr. Bidmarck's place, the houses around had been stirred out of their slumber. Adela saw that none had gone inside the house due to Joshua having blocked the entrance. Their leader of sorts, a kindly farmer Tapperty, was waiting for them.

'Who found him?' he asked as they walked inside.

'I did,' Marcus Finch, one of the farm hands replied. I was crossing his house when I saw a green light flash in his room, the bedroom. I tried to check, but I couldn't get near the house. It's strange, but I tried and tried. It were like an invisible wall blocking me. Then, I found meself flung forward. Just like that. Then I rushed into the house and room and what do you know, he was lying right there, with old Clara wailing loud.'

'Clara was crying? Loud?' Tapperty said incredulously. It was common knowledge that she was mute. It was not easy communicating with her, for she did not know the universal sign language as well.

'Yes sir, I said it ain't natural.'

Tapperty and Uncle Samuel, together with four men and the two females, entered the room.

Old Ben was right. It was not natural. They did not see and felt the intangible eerie atmosphere about it. Aunt Martha turned sharply toward Clara before she could see Bidmarck in full. Adela stood at the doorway while the men crowded around the body and started a whole round of steady murmurs. Her view was blocked. She could only see his arm and fist, clenched into a tight ball. She may not have known Mr. Bidmarck, but she was affected all the same. She had never witnessed a death before.

Aunt Martha was trying her best the aged woman. Having not known speech, the words pouring out of Clara were child-like and heart wrenching.

'The medics will come move the body,' Uncle Samuel said, 'if no one wants to.'

'Maybe it's the plague.'

'Don't be foolish Marcus. Was everything the same as when you first found the body?'

Marcus looked around, 'Looks the same to me.'

'Let's look around,' said Joshua, inspired. 'Maybe we can find clues.'

'That's for the police to check Joshua lad.'

'It's alright Mr. Tapperty. We won't remove anything. There bain't no fingerprints I reckon. Them clever to wear gloves.'

Adela helped in the, as Lindsay would call it, snooping around. There was nothing extraordinary. His furnishings were plain and not a costly article was found in the house.

'Theft. Robbers maybe.' Ben concluded.

'Those thieves sure clean this place up real neat eh? Everything's all a tidy and placed aright. N'or, it bain't no robbery.'

Adela knelt down beside Mr. Bidmarck as the men launched into fierce speculation. She thought she should attend to him, even though he was not there. Not really.

His eyes were wide open. Adela knew he must have had screamed when he died. Why did no one hear him? So many questions. She closed his eyes. Let him leave in peace.

A chill spread across her palm. He was ice-cold. She shivered. She was about to get up when she saw a corner a brown. something peeking out from under his back. She tried to pull it out.

'What are you doing?' Uncle Samuel knelt beside them.

'Help me roll him over uncle. There's something. . .'

Reluctant as he was, her uncle obliged. What was revealed was a square (twelve inch by twelve inch) piece of cloth with no marking on it. Adela picked it up. Uncle Samuel touched it and said, 'Cowhide. It's nothing special. Perhaps a material he's using for his outfit.'

'Perhaps,' but Adela wondered at it.

***

'Severus! Just in time to help us prepare the Halloween Feast,' Albus waved at him from the other end of the Hall. 'True, if you want him to poison the treats and burn the pumpkins,' Flitwick chuckled. 'Come Severus. Levitate me up the ceiling for me to decorate the buttresses.'

'A cue to flee if ever I heard one,' Severus said mildly, 'The afternoon can be better used to follow up on the vast amount of work I've missed.'

'Don't be such a spoilsport,' Albus said. 'You should have stayed home longer.'

Severus lifted Flitwick to the nearest corner. 'I needed to see how you've handled my classes. To see how you've ruined them.'

'I handled them quite well thank you. I did it without you. It seems I've become a more effective and may I say, popular professor than yourself. I should fire you and take on your position. I've forgotten how rewarding teaching was.'

'Yes, you teach. I head the school. We shall verily learn from each other.'

'At least you won't be terrorising students.'

'I shall be prohibiting students from enrolling unless they come muted.'

Albus coughed in non-commitment.

'Severus!' Flitwick squealed. Severus had eased his control of his wand and Flitwick was flying across the Hall erratically. Fortunately, he had crashed into anything.

'My apologies, Professor,' Severus brought Flitwick to another part of the ceiling.

'Miss Adaman Snape wrote to me. You are quite alright then.'

'Yes Albus. Thank you.'

'I'm glad.'

'Do you know Albus,' Severus said in a fit of dark humour, 'With so much gladness surrounding a death, Grandpa must have parted in happiness himself.'

'In not so many words as to say you've received everyone's blessings.'

It was Severus' turn to cough lightly, 'More so in a week than in a lifetime. I miss him Albus.' It was the closest Severus would ever get to admit the acute loss he felt.

'He knows.'

Severus nodded, 'Adaman suspects me.'

'You did not tell her.'

'It's better not to.'

'You are right, not until this is over. Sirius was here while you were gone.'

'It was unnecessary to tell me. I could smell his reek in your office.'

'Arthur hears that more Dementors have deserted. Arabella tells of animals leaving the Dark Woods in Russia. Voldemort may have moved there. And Sybil came to me.'

Severus frowned. Sybil Trelawney may be a fraud in most of the students' eyes, but in truth, she did possess the Sight, as Potter had witnessed himself. Acting to the crowd, Trelawney, in fact, knew what she was doing. She was aware of herself during sudden assaults of the vision.

'She said Voldemort's preparing for a more serious attack than we ever imagined.'

'Ah,' said Severus wearily, 'Can she not be more helpful and tell us where and when he's striking?'

'You know how the powers are. There's something else. She saw a white butterfly entering our world.'

'Is it significant?'

'It's a myth. It can be purity or death. It can be an asset or a warning. This is the end, Severus.'

'And look how well prepared we are. He hasn't called me for some time. I don't know. . .'

'What of Malfoy?'

'He said he was instructed to gather two hundred followers. Goyle's taking a hundred. They were not informed of where they were to lead them.'

'Yes, something's brewing.'

'I think he's getting desperate. The corpses maintain his strength but do not enhance it. He wants all-encompassing power. The only way to extend his resources and succeed in achieving immortality is to have the whole wizarding community in his command.'

'And until then. . .'

'We wait,' Severus finished.

Albus pinched the bridge of his nose hard.

***

{Dear Lindsay,

Thank you for writing.

I wish I could have a video of your adventures. Be sure to buy me a souvenir too. A little trinket is sufficient.

As for myself, joy fills me to be back home. I can write on and on about the wilderness and beauty, but you have to be here to know what I mean. This is a huge hint asking you to visit me. However, the happy state has been marred lately by a death in the village. I shall not write in detail what happened. Suffice to say it startled the whole village. Many are preparing Halloween in greater earnest. Ghosts and all the beliefs.

How are you two spending Halloween? Will you dress as a vampire again? Do not drink too much tomato juice. Tell Mickey Mouse, or Henry, to watch over you lest you have a stomachache. Will you attend a masquerade? There are several to be held in Toronto. I still watch the news on television in the Common Court.

I'm going to the CC this weekend. I should be able to call you. Tell me where you will be then.

Regards, Adela.}

Adela hit the 'Send' button. She hoped Lindsay would not spot that she was hiding something.

"Dark clouds o'er thy head. . ." Adela thought idly as she walked out.

It was frustrating. The villagers knew that Mr. Bidmarck had to be murdered.

"And yet, and yet!" Adela skipped over a mud puddle instinctively whilst in deep meditation. The doctors doing the autopsy in town were swift. The report revealed nothing amiss. There were no wounds, not even the slightest indication of a heart attack. In not so many words, the police drew on the conclusion that it was a natural death. They dismissed the accounts of the villagers as wild speculation.

However, it wasn't. The villagers were not an imaginative bunch. Besides, what accounts there were matched each other. All was quiet. Then five saw a green light flare from the same room at the same time. Then, Joshua rushed in to find Mr. Bidmarck dead.

As for Clara, she was so traumatised the police and doctors felt it best to send her to a hospital, despite Mr. Tapperty's protest. No, the police had said, she was a danger to everyone. Aunt Martha had left to accompany her. Adela thought she had never seen Clara more lucid than that morning when she started sprouting words in fear. 'Men. . . men in long, long black. . . masks. . . terrible terrible. . . the devils' a coming!' she whimpered, 'Pain. . . so much pain and they do nothing. Arms pointing. . . pointy sticks. . . straight. . . Eyes. . . horrible horrible. . . Oh, they make me scream. . . no one comes? Sharp sticks. . . Mr. Bidmarck. . . he a strange man, but quiet and fair to Clara. . . Cured Clara's voice, but she tells no one. . . No one comes. . . Mr. Bidmarck go goes. . . he a refuse. . . he a brave man. . . then they. . . kill him.'

'But how Clara?' Uncle Samuel had persisted in asking. It was something they had spent the night trying to extract it from the poor woman.

'They kill him!' she had cried. 'They kill more! Hogsmeade. . . Hogwarts! He says they go there to kill.'

Adela's footsteps had taken her unconsciously to the hills. Resigned, she sat down and took out the piece of brown cloth. She had kept it on a whim. No one minded anyway. It would appear Mr. Bidmarck had no family in this world as well. His things would be left untouched until Halloween was over.

The cloth was not unique, yet she would not accept that an innocent thing such as that would be lying around the floor when everything in the house was kept neatly in place. It may even belonged to the intruders.

Clara's voice rang out, 'Hogwarts!' She had only heard this name mentioned once.

'Magic,' she whispered, and gasped when a light flared from the cloth, stinging her eyes momentarily. Regaining her sight, she looked down to see a map appear on the cloth. Yet what a map it was. Finely detailed, she saw the town, the village, the hills and woods. Far away were other villages. Close to one she knew, was a place called Hogsmeade station and Hogsmeade village. And even closer to it was a dot labelled Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. And in the hills, she saw a smaller dot with her name as its label.

Grasping the map tightly, she ran down to find her uncle.

***

'Can't you see it?' Adela asked in anxiety.

'I see nothing.' Uncle Samuel said.

'Say magic.'

He stared at her. Then, clearing his throat, he said it. Looking at the map, he turned back to her in bewilderment, 'Well?'

'Well, do you see anything now?'

'No, what am I supposed to see?'

'A map.' She pointed to the various villages and read out their names.

Uncle Samuel stared at her unnerved, 'I see nothing Adela.'

Adela gazed at him. She said slowly, 'Maybe it requires someone magical, or someone who believes.' She related what she knew to him.

'Don't you see Uncle? There are witches and wizards in this world that we non-magical people know nothing of.'

'Darling,' Uncle Samuel said worriedly, 'Let it go. If people hear you, they'll say you have schizophrenia. We know it's normal for your mind to run wild. It's harmless and fantastical. But they don't know that.'

'Uncle, I understand. You do not believe. Like many, you are a sceptic. My mind works differently. Give me a week to warn them. They do exist, not in my mind, but in this world. Don't be frightened. Give me a week, and I shall return. I promise.'

***

Severus cursed about how he became tricked into shopping with Minerva in Hogsmeade. Today was Halloween, and instead of resting in his study, reading his books, Albus hurled him the task of buying Halloween treats for the students. He pictured the pupils laughing at the thought of their Potions Master shopping for them. He grinned malevolently when he next envisioned them gagging at the poisoned sweets the House-Elves handed out.

'Why can't the House-Elves buy these disgusting tooth-destroyers?'

'Because Albus wants us to have an excuse for coming down. Now tell me how much toffee we should purchase.' Minerva wondered down the aisle in the candy shop.

'Buy the whole shop. We can afford it.'

'That is generous of you.'

'It saves bloody precious time.'

'Language Severus.'

'No one can hear us.'

'True. It's useless asking your opinion but since you are here, I might as well put you to good use. Take this lot to the counter while I pick out more treats.'

'I will not be caught dead buying sweets.'

'Severus, stop whining.'

'I! Whine!' But Minerva had already gone to the next shelve.

Dumping the basket at the counter, Severus growled over the poor innocent shop helper who was struggling to check the prices under the thunderous expression. Behind him, he heard a couple of giddy-headed witches giggling. He switched his menacing glance at them. They quailed fast enough.

'At last!' he cried when Minerva came bustling beside him. 'Have you forgotten our other assignment Madam?'

'Yes yes,' said Minerva in a fluster. 'I didn't know the sheer increase in variety of sweets they have these days.'

They paid the shop-helper, and had him send their purchases to Hogwarts before heading towards the Three Broomsticks.

Finding an inconspicuous corner, they gave their orders to Rosmerta.

'Why, bless me to see the Heads of Gryffindor and Slytherin together!'

'Professor Dumbledore sent us to the candy shop. He insisted there be a stronger bond between the rival houses and that we must learn cooperation,' Minerva explained patiently.

'Not before we strangle each other first,' said Severus smoothly. He smiled snidely at her. It took all his reflex and will not to yelp and jump from his seat when Minerva kicked his shin under the table.

When they were left to themselves, Minerva looked around casually.

'They are not here yet.'

'Perhaps we are too late. Your distraction delayed us and they have left.'

'Don't whine.'

'Once more, I do not whine!'

'Hush. They're here.'

The two immediately bent over their drinks.

Out of the corner of his eye, Severus saw Cornelius Fudge greet Torimon Master outside the Three Broomsticks as though they had met coincidentally. To the public, the young wizard was a harmless charity organiser who looked after orphanages. The Order of the Phoenix became privy that he was one of the enlisted men in the Ministry of Secret Service (MOSS). It was an organisation set up by Fudge to root out opponents using evidence the members scouted out. The Order succeeded in covering their tracks thus far.

Two days ago, Albus received news that Fudge was meeting Master in Hogsmeade as it would seem odd that Master, who on the outset had never had dealings with the Ministry, went to their office. Severus thought it was the stupidest idea he had ever heard. Still, it served Albus' purpose of eavesdropping into their converation.

The two entered and sat in a booth close to them. Minerva cast a Sensitia spell to allow their hearing senses to be enhanced.

'Any news?' asked Fudge.

'Big this time,' said Master in a tone of earnest gravity. Severus snorted. Did the boy think he was acting in an abysmal melodrama?

'There's a stirring in a village, half a day's broom-ride from here. Word is Bidmarck's been hiding there all along.' Severus and Minerva froze. Bidmarck was a Voldemort follower who like Severus, realised his mistakes. Unfortunately, he did not turn to anyone for help, and Severus did not know him. Soon after the Dark Lord's first fall, Bidmarck gave his testimony in the trials, and escaped.

'The Muggles reported to the Muggle Aurors that he's dead. Boris and I went to see the body. It's the Unforgivable.'

'You-Know-Who?'

'We think so,' Master's voice became more and more hushed. 'We went to the village a couple of hours ago. The Muggles didn't know much, except that a woman claimed to hear they were going to attack Hogsmeade.'

'Did you. . .?'

'We Obliviated them. They won't remember Bidmarck. We also went to the hospital. There were two women staying there.'

'Good work, very good work Master,' mutterred Fudge. 'When this is over, I shall give you the Order of Merlin, Second Class.'

'Thank you Minister. It is our duty to protect the wizarding community.

'Of course, well, we shouldn't be seen together too long. We'll meet another time.'

Fudge got up. He spoke in a pompous voice so that the people around could hear clearly, 'It's good talking to you Master. Send me an invitation to the next charity concert. I'll make it a particular priority to attend.'

'Yes Sir,' Fudge shook his hand vigorously. He remained in the booth after Fudge walked away.

***

Adela raced her horse at the fastest pace possible. The best part of the day had passed. She had slipped off before dawn. No one knew except Uncle Samuel. She meant to reach Hogsmeade in the late afternoon.

Referring to the map, she saw her dot pass several villages. She estimated she would reach Hogsmeade in an hour. Suddenly, she remembered in horror that she needed to fetch Aunt Martha from town. She pulled at Laurie. 'Laurie, stop!' Whirling the horse-cart round, she urged him to gallop back. After a few minutes, she decided it was too late to fetch her aunt and it was more important to inform the people in Hogsmeade. Uncle Samuel could help her with Aunt Martha. She turned back and sped down the rough path.

Evening approached sooner than she wanted. She had wasted two hours going back and forth the road, always feeling the urge to return home just as she started to continue her way to Hogsmeade.

Adela's head was aching. Looking at her pocket-watch, she was shocked to discover the time. Looking at the map, she saw she remained in the same spot as she was two hours before.

Something was wrong. Something was preventing her from moving on. What was it that Esmond said? Wards, wards to keep people away. These were more powerful. The magic folk were a private group indeed. She wondered just how many there were in this world.

Shaking her head, she frowned in concentration. These wards affected her thoughts, but they did not seem to influence Laurie. She formulated a plan. She threw the leash over Laurie's mane where she could not reach for it. Taking some ropes from the cart, she tied herself securely to her seat. At further consideration, she took her handkerchief out to cover her mouth. She went on to bind her hands to the sides of the cart. Now that she could not move or speak, she tapped the cart with her foot. As Laurie began trotting, she took her shoes. Bare feet could not cause loud banging on the wood.

Here goes nothing, she thought, not expecting the horror and pain awaiting her.

***

'The Ministry deserves more credit than I give them for,' Severus groaned.

'Nor anyone of us,' Minerva paid the bill after waiting for Master to leave before them.

'If you analyse it, it's not a vital piece of information. Shocking, yes, but useless. The Dark Lord only wanted to punish Bidmarck.' Severus opened the door for Minerva absentmindedly.

'It may be he has something Voldemort wants. Who knows?' Minerva cloaked them in a Privacy Charm so none may hear them.

'I don't recall Bidmarck as one of the most highly regarded followers. We'll have to tap into other sources to find out more.'

'Let's return quickly. It's almost time for the Feast. We can't have the students wonder at our late arrival.' They were at the edge of the village.

'Yes. We can't have them thinking we are in the middle of a duel.'

Shouts of surprise caused the two professors to turn back. Severus heard Minerva gasp beside him. He could only stare.

A horse-cart had found its way into Hogsmeade. An unmistakably Muggle horse- cart. And a Muggle girl was sitting right in it. Bound and gagged, she swayed from side to side. Her face was bloodless. On closer inspection, profuse sweat had broken out from her forehead and temples.

Witches and wizards crowded round the cart, yelling in both anger and fear, forcing the brown stallion to halt. Severus and Minerva rushed forward, with Severus pushing their way to the front of the cart.

The girl was tensed and crouching inward. Her eyes were shut tightly. Severus wondered if she were sufferring from a fit. Minerva climbed to her side and took off the gag. Steadying the girl, she said gently, 'Child, child, are you alright?'

After several silent moments, the girl became aware of her surroundings. Opening her eyes, she looked about dazedly. Severus did not think she was absorbing the reality around her. Her eyes rested on Minerva.

'Hogsmeade?' she whispered. Severus felt his heart leap. That voice. . .

'Yes,' answered Minerva.

'Thank the stars. . .' she promptly fainted against the Headmistress.