"Well, that was fascinating," Petunia remarked sarcastically to Arabella as they ambled to the bus stop. "How many repressed worries do you have?"

"Oh, Finneus only does that to the new people, don't worry. All in good fun."

Finneus had been the mildly insane one. His attractiveness quotient could hardly be denied; even in a plaid flannel shirt and overalls, the man's gray eyes had twinkled most pleasantly. He had stalked her most of the evening with tips about her underlying fear of her sister setting her magically aflame. She was pleased to discover he was only having her on, but still rather disapproved of his methods. "All the same, I think I'd better stay clear of this particular support group, thanks."

Arabella was mortified. "Oh, please don't! You're the only one of us who has any experience; you were a great help showing how to cook and clean the muggle way. You could be leading the class soon—it's not as though anyone would miss Jinnet."

Petunia snorted. "That woman wouldn't know a hair dryer from a leaf blower." Jinnet had apparently been flaunting her expertise in all things nonmagical until Petunia had arrived. She had long grayish black hair tied in two "authentic muggle" pigtails by each of her ears and a tendency to wiggle her eyebrows, especially at the men who had come in raincoats, oblivious to the cloudless day.

"They didn't seem to trust me enough to listen."

"Oh, make an effort! They're good people. Besides, you need a social life." It could not be denies that most of her friends had been Vernon's friends, and her Saturday evenings had been admittedly empty before she met Arabella.

Well, it was nice to make good use of her housewife skills. And Arabella was right, Amanda and Jill had been quite friendly and helpful. At least Petunia had never made a voodoo doll of her sister. "I'm planning a fashion show for the meeting after next," she decided.

But Arabella was no longer listening. "Not them again. In broad daylight in an area strewn with muggles, too? They mean business."

Petunia was about to ask who she meant when she read the signs of the seemingly innocent picketers in front of her.

"END THE OPPRESSION, STOP THE SECRETS"

"DOES YOUR CRYSTAL BALL HAVE THE ANSWERS NOW?"

"YOU LEAVE US HELPLESS, WE LEAVE YOU HELPLESS"

"DON'T TRANSFIGURE ON ME"

"THE ONLY GOOD WIZARD IS A DEAD WIZARD"

And, most frighteningly,

"SIX MILLION OF THEM, SIX BILLION OF US."

Arabella was correct. They were practically broadcasting the existence of magic muggles.

"Won't people think it's just a joke?" asked Petunia. "You know, the end is near and all that?"

Arabella shook her head. "Listen."

And their leader, an oldish man in black, began to speak. "Have any of you ever lost a relative or friend for reasons you consider shady? Have you ever seen a dead body with no mark anywhere on it that should be perfectly healthy, except that it's dead? Ever feel like you can almost remember something truly odd, but just can't get your brain to focus on it?"

"Yeah," shouted a man from the back, "It's called a nightmare."

The leader nodded gravely. "More true than you know. A nightmare they are fast becoming. Who is "they"? They are all around us. They are your crazy aunt that seems to just appear behind you sometimes, whose house seems to be full of secrets. They are the man in the funny, old-fashioned cloak that couldn't possibly have been doing what you thought you saw him doing. And, most dangerously, they are the men and women who murder your children in their beds with only two words: Avada Kedavra.

They're called Death Eaters, folks, and they don't take to people who can't do magic. It's a master race they're after, a race full of people that shouldn't even exist. And they have a powerful leader now, and his name is Vol--"

But he never got to reveal the villainous overlord's name, because a stunner hit him square in the back before he could get it out. Arabella said a silent prayer thanking the Hit Wizards from the ministry. Their work was so well disguised that no one in the crowd saw them sheaf their odd sticks of wood; the man could have easily fainted.

The other squibs shouted things like "They've got a right to know" and "Protection is not a privilege" before they scattered. None of them wanted to be on the wrong end of a Hit Wizard's wand.

Petunia saw now why she had to stick with the people she had met today. They may be odd, but they weren't running around with picket signs. And she wanted to make sure they stayed that way.

Arabella had seen these demonstrations before, even gotten junk mail inviting her to join them. But, like the muggles in the man's speech, she was sure she heard something she couldn't have heard. Or it was another person of the same name. In any case, she had a lingering memory of a fierce Hit Wizard shouting as he ran, "I'll get you someday, Dorian Dursley!"