A/N- REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW! From what I can tell everyone is in suspense! That makes me so happy, I love writing cliffhangers. Sorry if it's annoying (. At least it makes sure y'all keep reading! I am really insecure about this chapter. I don't know if I did it right- it wasn't what I had planned on doing before. I'm thinking rewrite, so I need opinions!
David M. Potter: Thanks for the review! I can't promise anything about Ginny- she may be evil, or may not be. I'll make sure to update the other fic regularly, although I have to admit I like writing this one better. Keep reading!
Lourdes1: Thanks for reviewing! Now I feel so predictable! What gave it away? You're good at guessing, cause you are pretty much right, but there is a little more to it than that. Keep reading!
HOLLYWOODblvd: Thanks for the review! I'm glad you like the story. I appreciate all suggestions, too, so if you don't like some parts please tell me so I can improve!
Chapter 3-
Harry was standing in the middle of a room with black walls and a black floor, a single light trained on him. Suddenly a door opened. A woman walked into the room, surrounded by a halo of light. She had blond hair perfect features, brown eyes...and freckles...
Harry woke up with a start. Light was flooding in though a window and he heard the sounds of sirens, honking, and screeches. He groaned and turned over onto his side, looking at the clock. It read 6:04.
"What is wrong with these damn Americans," Harry muttered as he slid out of bed, "Getting up at ungodly hours of the morning to go to work. Everyone knows you're supposed to get up at eight and eat a nice breakfast. Then you read the newspaper, drink some tea. They don't even have tea, just this horrible coffee. They're all absolutely bloody mad." Harry had a tendency to talk to himself in the morning as made some coffee and toast, trying unsuccessfully to wake Ron from his snoring slumber.
Harry showered and dressed, careful to disguise himself with the same styled blond hair and brown eyes. Finally, he ran out of patience with the sleeping figure on the bed.
Harry levitated Ron into the bathtub and turned on the cold water. Ron sputtered awake.
"BLOODY HELL HARRY!" Ron yelled angrily, "YOU DON"T HAVE TO TRY TO KILL ME!"
Harry ignored him and sat down on the sofa, closing his eyes. Random thoughts swirled through his head...the Quidditch Cup...Hermione's tearful parting...flying as a Merlin in the night...Ginny...
Harry sat up suddenly, taking a deep breath. He got up and paced around the room, waiting for Ron. A few minutes later, an annoyed, disgruntled Ron stalked past him and grabbed a piece of toast and some coffee.
"You're welcome," Harry said sarcastically. Ron took a sip of the coffee and spat.
"What the hell is this?" Ron asked, staring at the dark black liquid, "Doesn't taste anything like tea."
"Its coffee." Harry said wryly, laughing inwardly.
"Well, it doesn't taste anything like English coffee."
"Listen mate. I don't think we should just sit around all day waiting for this necklace to turn cold. I say we tail one of the Circle members. We already have all of the important information about them and their purpose Cho wanted. The only thing we have left to do is capture them and take them to Azkaban." Harry said to Ron musingly, "Which shouldn't be hard to do since there are only twenty of them."
"All right. But how will we find one of them to follow?" Ron asked, puzzled.
"Simple. Yesterday I put a tracking charm on the woman. I get the idea that she's their leader. It's strange how utterly incompetent these wizards are, not to even have a elongated shield charm on themselves. They aren't exactly professional Dark wizards."
Ron looked at Harry admiringly. "I would never have thought of doing that. Ever thought of going into the spy business, mate?" Ron joked. Harry grinned and waved his wand so that a map of Manhattan was traced in the air before them in glittering gold detail. A red beacon shined from the American Ministry of Magic's Department of Mysteries.
"Looks like we've found her." Harry remarked. The two made their way out of the building. The Ministry was only two blocks down from the Waldorf, at 309 2/3 Park Avenue.
The American Ministry of Magic was nothing like the Ministry of Magic in London. This building was short and fat, looking like a medium-sized steel box. It was sandwiched between the Manhattan Chase building and a Citibank. Harry and Ron stepped in.
The receptionist looked up, astonished to see two visitors come into the building. There were, after all, only two hundred wizards in the entire United States. Most people couldn't even see the building, except for the occasional Muggle child who managed to pull their parents in. But those were always obliviated. She stood.
"Hello," Harry said courteously, "I'm here for an appointment with the Minister of Magic. Is he ready to see me?" The receptionist blinked. "The Minister of Magic never has appointments," she stated, "Because there is never anyone to see him."
Harry smiled, his disarming Don't-I-Look-Like-An-Angel-Straight-Out-of- Heaven smile. "Then he's free to see me, isn't he?" Harry and Ron walked deeper into the heart of the building, leaving the receptionist bewildered.
Harry Apparated into the Minister's office. He had been there before, once a long time ago. But he didn't like to think about that- it had been when he had went searching for Ginny.
"Hello, Minister," Harry said to the man. He turned around, an annoyed look on his face.
"Yes," The man said testily, not looking at all surprised that two strange men had just appeared in his office uninvited.
"It's me- Harry Potter. I'm disguised." Instantly the Minister jumped up, a smile on his face, and stuck his hand out to the two boys.
"Ah, yes, Harry! It is a pleasure to meet you again. And why, exactly, are you disguised?" The Minister frowned.
"We're here on an Auror mission. I need permission to get into your Department of Mysteries."
"Of course, my dear boy, of course. Go ahead." The Minister nodded, letting the two men out of his office and pointing them down the hallway. "There it is. Although I don't know why you want to go there- only a couple of prophecies and one or two old undecipherable books."
Harry and Ron walked along the long steel hallway until they reached the door to the Department. Harry cast and invisibility charm on Ron and himself and they stepped into the room.
They looked around. The room really was bare except for a few prophecies along the walls, a few books stacked in a corner, and one or two cases full of old texts.
Harry's eyes searched for a sign of the beautiful, blond haired woman. For some reason, he felt as if he knew her from somewhere...the way her face had looked after he had obliviated her...
Ron poked Harry in the arm and pointed to the corner, where the books were.
"Harry!" Ron said excitedly, "I saw something move! Over by that big black book. Lets go and have a look."
They crept along the wall. Just as they were about to see what was behind the books, the door swung open, an old, white-haired man with a broom and duster walking in. Harry and Ron only saw a dark streak flash though the room and run out the door. They heard the janitor swear. "Another one of those damn mice," he said.
Harry looked at Ron, mouthing 'Animagus...she must be a mouse animagus!"
"We were this close to seeing what she was up to!" Ron said again, as they strolled down 5th avenue.
"Oh, well," Harry said, "We'll find out what they are up to. Hey!" Harry exclaimed, as a small black-feathered owl suddenly landed on top of his head. He noticed many passersby staring at him and the owl, and he quickly grabbed the letter in the owl's claws.
"Well?" Ron said, tearing his eyes away from a homeless woman sitting begging on the street, "What does it say?"
"Dear Mr. Potter. You are most cordially invited to the Annual Wizarding Society Ball, on the 23rd of June. It will be held as Hotel Amorphous, beginning at 7 P.M. Please wear formal dress. You are free to bring a partner. With thanks, Aurora Ellite." Harry said in a bored voice.
"Wow, Harry. Four years in a row. No one else is ever invited to the Society ball that much," Ron said jealously.
"Yea," Harry said, "But it is so awfully boring. But I always...liven things up, lets say," He grinned into his friend's face mischievously. Ron laughed.
"Hey!" Harry said, "Lets go in here!" They walked into a hip bar, full of young college students. Then he gasped.
"Ron!" He said urgently, "Look who is sitting on that table at the left!"
Ron looked and his mouth dropped. "What the hell is she doing here, at a bar, drinking a martini, at this time of day?!"
Harry, however, boldly walked over and sat at the table next to her, and Ron followed. They noticed her eyes widen slightly.
"Hello," Harry said, flashing her a smile. He noticed her eyes flicker with some...something that looked like recognition? But it passed quickly and she gave him a freezing look.
"Are you following me, Mr. Rank? What are you doing at a bar at this time of day?" "I could ask you the same question Ms...I'm sorry, you've never actually introduced yourself." Harry said impertinently.
"My name is Trista." She said warily.
"Well, hello, Trista with no last name." Harry replied boldly. The woman glared at him.
"The members of the Circle call me Trista," She hissed at him, "And you will do the same."
"Can I have a Coors, please," Harry asked the waiter. "It seems to me Trista, that you are a mystery. What is a beautiful woman like yourself doing at the head of a group like us? He smiled at her, one of his most charming smiles. Again that flash went though her eyes, then died.
"That, Mr. Rank, is none of your business." She said. Harry sipped his beer. There was something about this woman. For some reason, he felt an attraction to her, an attraction he hadn't felt in a long time. Since Ginny.
Of course, Harry had dated and been with a fair share of women. A man of his fame, wealth, and looks could have any girl out there. But Harry had always been shy about those things, and so his relationships had been long and had always ended because of one thing Harry couldn't get out of his head- Ginny.
Harry shook his head and finished his beer. Ron had simply sat there and watching the exchange, a knowing look in his eyes. Harry stood up and said to Trista, "I'll see you...at the next meeting" He and Ron walked out into the street.
"Whoa," Ron said, giving his best friend a sideways look, "You could have sliced that sexual tension with a knife."
Harry gave him a look. Ron would have none of it.
"Come on. Harry. You two sparring it out like that, there was definitely an attraction. If I, master of non-perception, could figure that out, it must've been bloody obvious. But its not a good idea to get involved with a woman like that. You have to remember she is the enemy." Ron said. Harry nodded.
"I know. I don't even like her. After all, I'll be the one who is going to take her to rot for the rest of her life in Azkaban. But there's something familiar about her..." He trailed off.
"Yea, I felt it too," Ron said unexpectedly. "I felt as if I knew her from somewhere..."
"This is really strange," Harry remarked. But all of their serious thoughts turned to mud when they passed by a Porsche showroom. Harry had taught Ron all about the magic of cars. All thoughts save for V8 engines and automatic hard-tops drove any thoughts about the Circle out of their heads.
"Did you see that Boxster?" Ron asked dreamily, his eyes misting over at the thought of the beautiful car.
"The Boxster was nothing compared to the Carrera." Harry said, his expression mirroring Ron's as they strolled down Central Park. It was eight o'clock, and the sun was beginning to set.
"We'd better head back to the Waldorf," Ron said. They headed down, when all of a sudden they both let out identical gasps. The necklace had frozen, and both felt the sting of cold ice on their neck.
"Ready?" Harry asked Ron, who nodded. They both put their index fingers on the chain at the same time.
Immediately, they were transported to the same café they had met with the Circle previously. Trista and the others were sitting at the table when they materialized. Harry and Ron sat down quickly in the two empty chairs.
Trista ignored them and addressed the entire group. "The time has come. Yesterday, I managed to infiltrate the Department of Mysteries. Although it wasn't very hard- the security at the Ministry is basically non-existent." There were snickers among the group. "All right. I managed to get the information we need to finally kidnap the Minister and demand the ransom for his life." There were confused glances among them.
"Trista," A youngish, dark-haired man who reminded Harry of Draco Malfoy, spoke up, "I though the plan was to assassinate him." The other members nodded. Harry was intrigued.
"Well," The woman said uncomfortably, "I've changed my mind. We should kidnap him and demand the money so that we have enough Galleons to buy up the favor of the two hundred Wizarding families. Once we have their loyalty, we can move in with greater numbers, and so greater power."
The wizards looked at each other and seemed to be satisfied. Harry was laughing inwardly at the bunch of cowards and idiots Cho had actually deemed Dark wizards. But he was fascinated by Trista. The woman was obviously questioning her loyalties, although you couldn't tell from her hard, cold countenance and rough, challenging demeanor.
"We'll move in an kidnap him tomorrow then," She said, "I'll go myself, with Rank, Jones, and you, Walter. The necklace will bring you to me at the Department of Mysteries again. There is no security there, it will be easy to get him. Be ready. Now go." One by one the wizards Apparated out. Harry and Ron left last, Harry turning to give a last look to the woman at the table before returning back to the suite.
The next day, Harry and Ron awoke at the crack of dawn, determined to follow Trista to wherever she went today. Harry conjured the same map. This time, he was startled.
"Ron, the beacon is at some apartment in Greenwich Village. Do y'reckon we should go in there and invade her privacy?" Harry asked.
Ron snorted. "A woman like her doesn't deserve privacy. Lets go."
The two Apparated to her apartment and went snooping around. The apartment was not what they had expected at all- it was cluttered with knickknacks and antiques, warm blankets draping a battered sofa, an old television and bookshelves stacked with an odd variety of books.
"Harry," Ron whispered, "I think this Trista character has kids." Harry looked at him in shock.
"What?!" He exclaimed. "She can't be much older than twenty-one! How can she have kids that can read?"
"Well, obviously she does." Ron said. Harry decided to go into her room, Ron following close behind.
Harry stepped into the master bedroom, a small, cramped room with a single bed and a small dressing table littered with make-up and perfume. It didn't look at all like the room of a kidnapper. Harry searched the closet and bathroom, but all he found were clothes, medicine, Band-Aids, and other various household items. If he hadn't known she was the head of the Circle, Harry would never had guessed that the woman who lived in this apartment was planning to kidnap a Minister of Magic.
Harry turned to stare down at the woman in the bed. He sucked in his breath. She lay in golden-haired glory, her face relaxed and vulnerable. She was wearing gray silk pajamas, the blacnket tucked up under her chin, one arm spread across the bed. She looked even more beautiful asleep than she did awake.
Harry turned to Ron sharply and said, "I don't think we're going to find anything around here. Looks perfectly innocent."
Ron smiled wryly. "Just goes to show you looks can be deceiving."
They spent the day catching wizards. They had informed Cho of the Circle's plot- she had told them to round them all up and have them sent to Azkaban on the next Portkey. Harry and Ron had tracked down the seventeen members who weren't in on the kidnapping and had Stunned them and tied them up to be sent for questioning and trial at the Ministry of Magic in London. They would take the next three tonight, although Cho was unsure about what to do with Trista's children.
At exactly seven, the wrought necklace activated. Harry and Ron arrived in a heap at the Department of Mysteries- again. They were followed by Walter and Trista. Ron looked at Harry and they immediately shouted in unison, "Expelliarmus!" Two wands flw into each pair of hands.
"What do you think you're doing?" Trista said in a rough, dangerous voice.
"Fooled ya, didn't we?" Harry grinned at her cheekily. Ron Stunned Walter and was about to Stun Trista when all of a sudden she transformed into her Animagus form and shot out of the room- again. She left two men with two wands in hand speechless.
"Harry," Ron said tremblingly, "Did I just see what I thought I saw?"
Harry looked at him mutely, astonishment on his face and heartbreak in his eyes.
"If...you saw...what I saw...," Harry said shakily, "Then you did."
Trista's Animagus form was not a mouse. It was a small, dark red cat.
