As ever, standard disclaimers apply.
Margaret shrieked angrily at her morning copy of the Daily Prophet, or more precisely, at the dark photograph accompanying a report on last night's Death Eater attack on a group of Muggle archeology students and their teacher visiting Stonehenge. No survivors, of course. and as the remains were fairly gruesome, the photograph showed only the investigating Aurors, none of whom were recognizable. "Damn them!" she hissed growing angrier with every word she read. She threw the paper across the table and grabbed her other, non-wizard, paper. And yes, on the front page, a slightly different accounting of the horrible and inexplicable murders. Nonetheless, she read the article in its entirety and then gasped. And a chilling smile tugged her mouth in an ugly smile. Now they'll work a little harder, she mused to herself. She'd recognized the name of the teacher and knew it to be Merritt's own Muggle sister.
--
Mundungus Fletcher wended his way along Knockturn Ally humming quietly to himself, pleased at outcome of his latest transaction. As both a thief and a member of the Order of the Phoenix, he had found himself in the most delicious position of being able to obtain interesting items of dubious legality which he was wont to dispose of to his own profit. As he had only just concluded such a transaction he was quite cheery despite the early hour and morning dankness. Indeed, he preferred early hours for these sorts of affairs as he generally found, to his great advantage, the denizens of Knockturn Ally to be less than sagacious much earlier than mid-morning. And never at all before dawn.
Thus, he was quite unprepared for the sudden blow to his back and grabbing of his wand arm that finally culminated in his face pressed to mildewed bricks and said arm wrenched painfully back and up between his shoulderblades.
"Well, well, well, the scum is out early today," a deep rich voice throbbed at his ear.
"Who are you?! What do you want?!"
"Been watching you toad," the husky baritone teased. "Got a file a yard thick. We're going to have a chat. Don't be stupid I'm an Auror and I do not work alone. Now, with you free hand slowly remove your wand and drop it to the ground. Ah! And use only your thumb and forefinger."
Mundungus moved more than merely slowly; he moved carefully sensing that this man was not above painful retribution for any mistake or miscalculation. He plucked at the wand managing to prise is out after only two false tries. He was not a coward, but neither was he stupidly brave. Still, a momentary hesitation let his attacker wrench his arm as some kind of reminder and with a sharp gasp of pain he dropped the wand to the sidewalk.
"Very wise, Dung. I like that in a criminal." With a small shove, the wand skittered away. "Now, I am going to let you go and you will behave, won't you."
"I'm not a criminal! Are you arresting me for something? Can't a wizard take a stroll--"
"Shut it. We're not arresting you. Yet. We just want to have a nice quiet chat."
"Who's 'we?'"
In answer, the self-proclaimed Auror spun him about and took a step back, pale blue eyes digging into Mundungus' shadow streaked face.
"Oi, I know you. Traverse. Anthony Traverse." he was good at putting names to faces. It was usually a helpful ability. "You're usually a cold one."
"I am that, Dung. Cold enough to turn you in to the Hit Wizards."
"For what?"
Not saying anything, reached into a pocket and brought out a small object. A wave of his wand and a whispered word brought the object back to full size. It was a folder, very thick. Labeled "Mundungus Fletcher" in a bold hand. The Auror held it out. "The first few pages are more than enough, old man."
More curious than scared, the thief took the packet and opened it. He started with the first page, his expression changing from indignant to nervous to scared before he was two thirds the way down the page. He looked back up at the other man. "What is this?" a tense whisper was all he could manage.
"An argument that I think will convince you to work with me."
"What are you talking about?!"
"Severus Snape. You know where he is I think."
"Who?"
"Don't be stupid. You're part of Dumbledore's Order."
"I--"
"You are holding merely a copy of the files we have on you."
"Dumbledore trusts Snape."
"Does Moody?"
"No."
"Does anyone besides old Dumbledore?"
Mundungus shrugged. "I doubt it. But still, the git's in no shape to do anyone any harm."
"Nonetheless, we have a use for him."
"I can't tell you where he is." He held up a hand to forestall the other's sharp reply. "All right, I can tell you that he's at Headquarters but there's a Fidelius Charm and I can't tell you where it is!"
"Somewhere near Grimmauld Place I should imagine."
"What?"
Traverse shrugged. If the thief couldn't figure it out, he wasn't going to tell him. "You need not reveal it. Just get Snape out and we will take him off your hands."
"Dumbledore--"
"Dung, we are not aiming to get you in trouble with your precious Order nor its esteemed leader. Snape is useless to you, but we, on the other hand, do have a use for him. A use against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and his Death Eaters. Can you really say that Dumbledore has gotten anywhere against them?" He waited for Dung's answering gesture. "I am sure we can arrange something convincing."
"What about these..." Mundungus shook the packet. "I want all the copies you have and anything original!"
"As you wish, old man."
Mundungus narrowed his eyes in suspicion. This was too easy. Or was the man so very desperate? "Why?" He asked.
"I doubt you'd understand, Dung. But some of us feel we owe the Muggles some help and Snape is in a unique position of being able to provide it."
"What? The man isn't even in his right mind--!"
"All for the better, I think. Is he at least mobile?"
"I've not seen 'im up and about. And he's not left alone. There's always someone at the place."
"Yes... The Weasley family I would think. I'd like to get this done as quickly as possible... But a workday would be best and a time when Mrs Weasley is out shopping. Arrange to have yourself placed on watch when next she goes out."
"The children--"
"Encourage them to go out and play."
"You have all the answers, do you?"
"No, but so far all the answers to your questions. When there are no obstacles you will simply bring him outside. We shall take care of the rest."
What could he do but nod in acceptance.
--
Mad-Eye Moody read the morning paper with little comment. He had to admit he was surprised. Muggles at Stonehenge. There were always Muggles at Stonehenge. Almost always. But at least they'd managed to manipulate the Muggle government so that destructive tourists were limited. Why attack them now? There was no doubt it was the work of Death Eaters, the Dark Mark hung like a plague in the air above the shrine. He sighed unhappily. It was so completely unexpected! He turned to the sports page and sipped his tea. Finally finishing his reading he climbed to his feet to dispose of the breakfast things and get on with the day. A small alarm went off warning him that someone had apparated just outside the barrier at the front of his property. He pulled out his wand and looked into one of the many Foe-Glass orbs that decorated his home.
He almost relaxed. He knew this visitor. An Auror from the old days, a few years his junior and still on active duty. He watched the man stride up the stone walkway, noting the cold determined expression that accompanied his purposeful march. He opened the front door while the younger Auror was three feet away.
"Merritt Morrisson. What brings you out here?" He still held his wand out of sight.
"Talk, Moody. My sister was killed last night."
"I'll assume you are not accusing me."
"Death Eaters! She was at Stonehenge!"
"I'm sorry for your loss, but I know nothing about it. You are the active Auror--"
"Don't play ignorant, Moody!" The tall man took a step forward, "You are part of Dumbledore's little Order. You know something!"
Moody said nothing.
"Damn it!"
"Come in but behave. I'm not unprotected here." He stepped back inside leaving the door open.
"I'm not accusing you of anything, I just want help." Merritt entered, closing the door behind him. "Everyone knows about Dumbledore's Order even if we aren't all part of it. We respect him and you. But you missed this didn't you?"
"Yes and so did the Ministry. Why Stonehenge? Why now?"
"They're mad. They've got to be stopped."
"Don't disagree with you there, Morrisson."
"Sorry. Of course not..." He seemed suddenly deflated. "What about the Order?"
Moody's lips pressed together in a thin line. "I expect there'll be an emergency meeting."
"They were unarmed and unprotected and completely innocent! They could not have had any idea--! Damn Him! Damn all those that follow him!"
"Can't say as I disagree with that sentiment either."
"What about Dumbledore's vaunted spy?"
"Snape? Useless as yesterday's trash. They brought back a shell. We're all better off for that, I say. But Dumbledore is wasting time and magic having him looked after at Headquarters."
"I take it you wouldn't be much put out if he ended up in Azkaban."
"I'd throw a bleedin' party."