The direct use of force is such a poor solution to any problem, it is generally employed only by small children and large nations.

David Friedman

Chapter 6- Nearing Dangerous Ground

After Misty's illuminating lunch, she realized that she had to leave London. She had to go back to the place of her childhood, back to Switzerland. She climbed out of the fireplace in the now deserted book shop and quickly went to a private place to apparate. The faster she arrived at her destination, she felt, the better.

Misty climbed up the large grassy green hill with a passion that she had not known for a quite a long time. The hill, devoid of trees, cast a long shadow in the setting sun. Her legs ached with a longing to stop and rest but she would not. She could not stop. All of the emotions in her body were high strung from her startling encounter with Remus. She could feel the dusk wind whipping in her golden locks and deep red robes as she made her last step to the top of the now fushia hill.

Before her was a view that one might remember for a lifetime, the place of her greatest childhood memories. Beyond the hill was a string of mountains and trees painted red, purple, and a deep orange from the fast setting sun. Despite the fact that it was deep summer, a light snow was still visible at the tops of the mountains. These were the majestic Alps, the home and resting place of her great-grandparents. During the summers in between school she had spent hours just gazing beyond this hill at the majestic mountains which made her feel as if anything were possible. This was the one place that gave her peace, peace like a early light snow in November.

As she gazed at the otherworldly glow of the dusk light filtering through afternoon mist, she thought about Sirius Black. The man she had really only met once and he wasn't even a man then. She was just a girl also, immature in her thought processes. Why then after all these years could she think of him as if he mattered the world. Even to be in the presence of another man made her feel guilty. Was she in love with a memory, a fleeting dream. One that she had depended on for years. Am I that lonely, she asked her self. Her father would have said, "If wishes were horses, beggars would ride." Misty laughed. Yes, he would have said as much.

Misty got up and spread her pale arms to the sky. Looking up, she whispered, "Take me away, to someplace beautiful." She closed her eyes and tears dripped one by one from the crevices by her eyelashes. She gave the gigantic mountains that dwarfed her small body, a look of longing and apparrated. Without her body there, the dew on the hill seemed to be just as alone as Misty felt.

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The first thing that registered in Misty's mind, when she arrived at the Leaky Cauldron, was the smell of smoke and alcohol. She saw the laughing people talking to friends and drinking merrily. She turned away and walked up the small stairway to the rooms slowly. Her feet felt like they were iron cast. When she made it to her room, number eight, she dug in her pocket to find that money was not the only thing she forgot to take with her. Her personalized magic key had been conveniently left inside of her room, the room that happened to be locked. She leaned her arm against the door in exasperation and jumped back when the door creaked eerily a few inches open.

Misty stared at the door carefully. She could feel a horrible feeling in her stomach, one of building terror. She reached in her robes and pulled out her wand silently before edging closer toward the door. Ever so quietly, she pushed the door just wide enough to permit her to pass. Step by step, she walked into her room keeping her hand on the door behind her. She strained her ears to try to identify any kind of sound in the black void before her.

"Hello?" she said timidly.

No answer could be identified. She continued to walk into the room and tried to feel anything that was familiar. Her heart rate quickened to a near deathly pounding until she felt a chair. Yes, that is the chair to my desk, she thought. Only about twelve steps to the lamp by the bed. Onward she went, her arms stretched out like a monster she had seen in a muggle horror movie. Wait, there's my night table, she thought. Relieved she sighed and reached forward to the lamp switch. Suddenly light poured from the lamp before her and she shielded her eyes.

"Thank you." she whispered to no one in particular.

She was safe and was just over reacting.

But slowly, she came to her senses with horror. She had not touched the lamp. Someone else was in the room. An unstoppable dread came over her and she started shaking. 'Turn around, just turn around and see if your right,' The only thing was that she knew, like a mother knows the presence of her children, someone was there. She whipped around lightning fast.

No one again.

"I feel stupid." she said out loud.

"You should." came a low growl.

A gasp escaped her lips. Before her stood, what she could only assume, a man in black robes. His face was covered by a grotesque mask depicting a pig in intense pain. He walked over to her and stroked her face as if appraising it. Misty breath came in short spurts. She wanted to scream, to cry, to yell, but all that came to mind was a Latin choir song, Turn Thy Face From My Sins, that she had heard at a concert many years ago. Even as he threw her body to the floor, she felt no pain, only heard the solo boy sing with heartbreaking conviction. It was so beautiful that when the man banged her head on the floor repeatedly no noise came from her now pale lips. 'I'm going to a beautiful place' she thought as she sunk into inky blackness.

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All Misty could see before her was white light. It was white like she had never seen before, completely without any blemishes at all. It was awe inspiring. She was running toward it with open arms. Letting it envelop her in it's warm embrace. In the distance small figures could be seen. There were so many of them, millions. Yes, that's where I want to be, she thought. This is what it is like to die, warmth and compassion. But as she got closer the figures were pointing at her. What had she done?

Despite this she continued until she was among them. The pointing never stopped until she realized that they were not pointing at her at all. They were pointing behind her. They wanted her to go back, back into the nothingness. 'No! Don't make me! I belong here.' She fought. The figures were going way. Gliding into the oblivion. 'No please.' But the void had come back. She was going to her own world now.

"You don't belong here yet. Go back. You belong there. Go back and live."

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"You fucking idiot, Macnair. Lucius is going to have a shit when he hears about this. You know he said to not kill her."

"I know but she looked so sweet, like churned butter. I couldn't help want to bleed her dry."

"Good God. Why do I have to work with dimwits like you?"

"I don't understand why he wants her anyway. She looked like a pushover to me......."

"Shut up! I think she's waking up."

Misty eyes fluttered open momentarily but she could not hold them open. Even her eyelids hurt to be moved and the fatigue was overwhelming. What had happened, she thought. She could remember Remus, a lunch, the Alps, and going back to her room. It was all fragmented. Her mind felt like someone had shattered her brain in to an infinite number of pieces. All that she wanted to do was go to sleep but in the back of her head was a nagging thought that something was pressing her. Something very important. What was it?

A creak of the old wood floor that she lay upon gave the tell tale sign that she was not alone. It was at that moment that she realized what had happened. She had been beaten up, she had died. Oh God. Her eyes snapped open and she looked at her surroundings wildly. Above her was a man in ebony black robes but he was not the one who had killed her. No, this man had a mask that resembled a demonic Pinoccio, nose and all. He picked her up a little rough and put her bed. He gave her the once over and beckoned for is partner to take a look.

"She looks decent, except for that gash on her head." the nose man said giving the other a look. The other said nothing.

"I guess she's fit for interrogation." the nose said.

He pulled her up and propped her up with all the pillows on her bed. Her head was drooping slightly to the side and her eyes were slightly dimmed. Frankly, she looked a mess. The pig faced man pulled her wooden chair from her desk by the window and sat down right in front of her. If only I could get to that window, she thought, I could alert someone. Even though this idea looked promising, she knew that it was way to far reaching of a possibility. She would have to deal what lay before her now. It was times like these that she really needed a Valium.

She smiled a small smile and a tiny giggle erupted from her lips. The pig man before her gave her a very hard slap. She forced her self to look at him completely. He was very large and muscular. She figured that he must be tall. Now the other one, the one with the Disney face, was about medium height and a slight build. The one thing that was bothering her was that she recognized theses voices. They were not the ones at Knockturn alley. She recognized them from when she had lived in Spain. She remembered all of the meetings that her husband had had deep in the night. That was where she had eavesdropped in the kitchen of their Spanish villa. But the one with Pinoccio face had a voice she could put a face to. None other than Severus Snape.

The man that she had assumed was Macnair took a hold of her hair and yanked her head back with extreme force. She yelled out loud for the first time since she had discovered what was going on. Snape dripped a tasteless substance down her throat. They both let go of her and she realized that she was not nearly as afraid as she had been before she had died. In fact she was more calm then most would in a similar situation. Then again most people haven't had a near death experience.

"What is your greatest fear?" Snape asked testing her.

Misty fought the unrelenting urge in the pit of her stomach. It was unbearable, terrible, and intoxicating and she knew what it wanted, the truth. She knew she could not resist the power of Veritaserum, the truth potion, for long. No, better go ahead and tell.

"Sergio Zappata." came out of Misty's mouth in a monotone voice.

'That was not what I wanted to say!' she screamed inside of herself. It must have been apparent on her face for Snape did not ask another test question.

"Do you know who were the men you witnessed in Knockturn alley?" Snape asked.

"They were Death Eaters." she said.

"Do you know their names?" Macnair asked.

"No." she answered

"What did you hear?" Snape asked.

" A man scream." Misty said like she was brain washed.

"Is that all?" the man identified as Macnair inquired.

"Yes."

"Well, it seems that she does not know as much as we originally expected." Snape stated.

"Don't you think that we should obliviate her?" Macnair asked Snape.

"Yes, go outside the door and make sure that no one is looking for her." Snape said.

Macnair made for the door and stepped out the door. Snape turned toward Misty with his wand facing her face. Misty had to admit it, Snape scared the shit out her sometimes. He surprised her by lifting her chin with it to look up at him. His fingers pulled down her lower eyelids, checking her eyes.

"You seem to be ok for the moment though I recommend that you go see a medi-wizard as soon as possible." he said.

Misty looked shocked, she was flabbergasted. Suddenly, Macnair came bounding in the door.

"Their getting suspicious down there. You better go see to it." he said.

"Don't obliviate her till I get back or there will be consequences." Snape said with menace and sweeping out of the room.

This can't be good, Misty thought.

"Pretty, pretty. Such a pretty girl you are. Too bad you live this experience long enough for anyone to enjoy it. I long to break your neck. Watch you squirm." he said with madness on the edge of his voice

"You'll get in trouble if you kill me." Misty said.

"Oh, but I just can't control what I'm doing now. No, it's just to powerful for me to stop. I doubt that you survive this time, pretty girl."

Macnair lunged toward her, grabbing for her arms. Something deeply imbedded inside of Misty manifested it self. The instinct of self preservation took over and she leapt up off the bed and made for the door. But Macnair just barely caught the edge of her robes and sent her on a bone crushing tumble to the ground. Her chin smashed on the wooden floor causing her breath to be knocked out of her. Macnair calmly walked over to her and picked her up with the ease of her weighing like a feather. Misty by now was fully panicking. She could not breath at all. She knew it would come back if she calmed down but that was impossible. Macnair let out an amused laugh.

"Perdonaré a mis enemigos, pero nunca me olvidaré de sus nombres." Misty gasped.

"What?" he asked.

Misty took the opportunity to take a shot at his face. A little trickle of blood appeared on his chin. Even though it didn't look like she had done a lot of damage he looked furious. He let out a giant growl and threw her against her desk as hard as he could. Macnair continued to advance with a understanding that the gloves were off. It was now or never. Just as he was almost on her she reached behind her to feel a large figurine of some sort. She grabbed it and heaved it at his head. He stopped in his tracks clutching his head. Misty took the figurine and hit him in the head three more times.

She did not think she had any strength inside of her to apparate anywhere but she knew she had to get out of here. She gathered all the power she could in her gut and popped out of the room. She had apparrated to Asgoth's Street Shop, now unoccupied. She dragged her heavy body to behind the stall so she could rest out of eyesight. All of the pain that she thought she had endured over the years were pale compared to the dread and pain now consuming her body.

Once she was satisfied she was safe for the moment, Misty looked up at the now apparent stars and the lonely crescent moon. In the far distance, she could here the high howl of a young coyote. What a day, she thought before passing out in the shimmering moonlight and the canine presence.

A/N - The quote "If wishes were horses, beggars would ride." is from James Halliwell in the book Nursery Rhymes of England, 1844.

What Misty said in Spanish means "I will forgive my enemies, but I will never forget their names." It is inspired from the quote "Forget your enemies, but never forget their names" by John Kennedy.

The song Turn Thy Face From My Sins is by composer Attwood arr. Bouwe Dykstra. It is very beautiful if you would like to look it up.

I also want to thank my reviewers. I love all of you.

Disclaimer - I own nothing.