Sorry about the wait, guys. Woo. I think I have more of an idea of what is going on now, although like I've made Dumbledore say, I'm working on intuition. I hope you like this chapter.

Ethan's eyes bugged out as he stared at his potions teacher. Harry drew a sharp breath, and Dumbledore abruptly stood up behind his desk.

"Where have they been taken, Severus?" His voice was far too calm.

"They were last seen with Remus and Nymphadora," Snape said, his black eyes glittering. "Apparently the four of them were creating some sort of distraction" - he glanced briefly in Harry's direction – "in London when a cloud moved and Lupin became... indisposed. The mayhem allowed Malfoy and the five others to escape. Lovegood phoned Potter, according to Moody, and Lupin is, right now, nowhere to be found.

"Somehow," he added nastily, "Malfoy escaped again-"

"Yes, Severus-"

"And was intercepted and followed by Tonks, Lovegood and Longbottom, to Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. He disapparated; perhaps inside the house... then reappeared immediately in the street where the three remained, waiting. He managed to overpower Lovegood and Longbottom, that much we know. They are gone."

"And Tonks?"

"Unaccounted for. Moody claims to have seen her a few moments after arriving – after the two had gone with Malfoy."

"How long ago did this happen, Severus?"

"Twenty minutes."

Dumbledore thought for a moment, and the room was silent except for Fawkes' faint whistling.

"No bodies were found, am I correct, Severus?" he said suddenly. Ethan squeaked.

"No bodies, Dumbledore."

Dumbledore fell into thought once more, blue eyes shining piercingly. Harry shifted his weight. Ron caught his eye from across the room.

Harry's fingers were tingling. He could not just stand here in safety while they were in danger, while he was perfectly able to do something...

"Sir, I'll go after them-"

"No," Dumbledore spoke over him, as though he knew exactly what Harry was going to say. Harry had had a feeling for a number of years that Dumbledore was a few steps ahead of everyone.

"Hermione," Dumbledore said calmly, "Will you take Ethan down to bed, please? He can rejoin his classmates in the Ravenclaw common room. I am sure they will be delighted to see him."

Hermione nodded, put her arm around the boy's small shoulders, and led him from the office. Ethan glanced back at Harry as he was ushered through the door.

"Headmaster," Harry said, trying to hold back his impatience, "why can't I just go and look for them? It's partly my fault; if I can just find Lucius..." Harry felt rather certain that if he met Lucius Malfoy, or any Death Eater for that matter, he would be able to beat them; perhaps better or faster than anyone else would. He had done it before. He was good at it. As he had said a few times before – he didn't die easily. He'd managed to conquer Voldemort, and after that, he thought, anything else was perfectly doable – even, sometimes, fun. And besides... fighting was just what Harry did. He was an Auror. His whole life had led up to the defeat of Voldemort, and now that Voldemort was dead, his life seemed to be automatically intended for any further battle against Voldemort's vengeful supporters; for protecting and helping Voldemort's opposers. He had had plenty of practice. He would be good for this job right now... Just as good as Mad-Eye, if not better.

Does that make me arrogant? I don't really think I'm better than everyone else... it's just a fact, I was made for fighting, I really am better at it...right?

Harry set his jaw.

"No, Harry," said Dumbledore again. Snape drew breath sharply; a barely concealed sniff of impatience.

"Reckless, Potter," he said, very quietly. Their old enmity had never dissipated over the years. It had, in fact, gotten worse over the past few months, as Harry had secured the job that Snape had always wanted – Defense Against the Dark Arts. Snape had once managed to teach it for the better part of a year when the appointed teacher was sent to St. Mungo's... but the very next year, Percy Weasley was hired, and Snape continued to teach Potions only. (that's impossible, I know, but I wanted to be silly!)

Dumbledore sat down again. "I understand, Harry, that you feel well suited to do so," he said calmly, "and I do agree that you would be; however, and you must forgive my saying so, I cannot allow you to rush headlong into what will perhaps require negotiation."

"Negotiation?"

"The Death Eaters do not take prisoners. There is, I suspect -" Dumbledore smiled grimly - "a catch."

"A catch?" Harry asked. "You mean ... ransom, or...?" Harry's mind remained blank for a few seconds, his face registering thought. Then it hit him.

"They want me, you mean. They just want to kill me."

Of course. Harry had killed Voldemort; he was responsible for the Death Eaters' ruin. Of course he was what they most wanted. He had known that.

But now... what would they do to Luna and Neville in order to get Harry? They were ruthless and would stop at nothing, Harry knew, and they wanted him badly enough.

"They'll torture them," he said. His voice was flat. "They'll kill them. They'll worse than kill them."

Dumbledore had said nothing. Ron was silent in the corner. Snape hardly seemed to be breathing. Even Vernon and Petunia were quiet – although their silence may just have been out of nervousness rather than comprehension of the situation.

"My guess is, Lucius wants you to go after Lovegood and Longbottom," Dumbledore stated calmly. "After unsuccessfully gaining entrance to number twelve Grimmauld Place, he found that turning the tables on Luna and Neville was the next best option."

"Sir... they wouldn't let them go, even if they caught me, would they?"

"I highly doubt it. No, I don't think they would ask ransom... I would suspect it is, rather, a trap."

Harry was silent again. What could be done? If he went after them, they would ambush him, probably kill him, and then kill Luna and Neville. If he didn't go, they would torture or kill Luna and Neville. If someone else went after them, they would be taken hostage as well, as bait for Harry.

"I guess," Harry said slowly, after a pause, "We're at an impasse. Azkaban hasn't rid Malfoy of his brains. Somehow he managed to tangle everything up so that we're cornered at every turn."

"In which case," Dumbledore replied promptly, "We would need to do something quite sensationally unpredictable in order to get around it." He glanced up at Harry.

Harry racked his brains. He wasn't very unpredictable, this he had come to realize. Impulsive, maybe; reckless, certainly; but predictably so. He rubbed his forehead.

Snape spoke up softly. "Murderers plan their murder to the finest detail. What they don't plan is the escape."

"Meaning," Harry said, looking up, glad of any lead at all, "That Lucius knows exactly what to do in order to kill me, but once I'm dead – once I'm dead, he has no plan. He's vulnerable."

Dumbledore stood up again. "Severus. Would you please summon Mad Eye and the Weasleys, as many of them as can come? You might go ahead and send for Chang as well, if you would – and Corner and Jordan, I suppose." He paused. "Do not get Draco."

Snape jerked his head in a small nod and swept briskly from the room.

"What are you going to do?" Ron asked. "Attack him?"

"He would have thought of that, wouldn't he?" Harry said doubtfully.

"What then?" Ron asked again. "A distraction? Or are they going to ambush him while he's preoccupied with Harry?"

"You might say that," Dumbledore replied. "I'm working on intuition." He turned back to Harry. "Would you be so kind," he asked, "as to give me a few of your hairs?"