Ginny poked her brother on the shoulder as they sneaked down the fourth floor corridor, earning herself an irritated glare. "What exactly are we doing again?" she asked. She was getting rather confused about all this.

"Finding out what's happening," Ron answered shortly, and Ginny scowled at the back of his head.

"McGonagall took the Solo person down to Dumbledore's office," Harry explained from beside her. "We're going to see what they'll do to him."

"And how did he get here again?" she asked. She was sure - what was it again? Something Hermione said a lot. No, not where do you think you're going or when do you plan on doing your homework. . .Oh, that's right. "I thought it was impossible to get in and out of this castle without permission."

She could have sworn she saw Hermione grinning smugly, but it was hard to tell in the gloom.

"Well, he managed it," Harry said, shrugging. "In fact-" He paused and fumbled in his pockets for a moment, then pulled out an old piece of parchment - the Marauders' Map - and unfolded it. "-a fair few people have managed it," he told her, surprise in his voice.

Ginny took a step back and peered over his shoulder. There were several tiny dots, many of which had names attached to them that she had never heard before. In Dumbledore's office, there was a 'Han Solo', 'Luke Skywalker', 'Yoda' and 'Artoo Detoo' along with Dumbledore and McGonagall, and up on the sixth floor were Fred and George with a 'Wes Janson' and 'Derek Klivian'. The map seemed to flicker slightly on the last name, alternating between 'Klivian' and 'Klivan' as if it couldn't quite decide how to spell it. After a few moments, it apparently got sick of itself and changed the whole thing to just 'Hobbie'.

As Ginny stared closer at the map, the adults left Dumbledore's office and another, fainter dot started to appear there. But before she could really see it properly, Harry had folded the map away and returned it to his pocket. She shrugged as they resumed walking - it was probably just some sort of malfunction. It was a very faint dot.

They reached the third floor without anything going wrong - some kind of miracle, Ginny thought, rolling her eyes. When they reached the statue guarding Dumbledore's office, all four of them drew to a halt, and she noticed Harry hesitating.

"Er," he said nervously, glancing round at the others. "Cockroach Cluster," he said to the statue.

No response.

"Cockroach Cluster?" Ginny repeated in disbelief. "Don't tell me that's the password for Dumbledore's office."

"Obviously it's not, Ginny," Ron said scornfully, "or the statue would have moved."

"All right," she replied huffily. "I was only saying."

"Well, it was the password," Harry told her dejectedly. "The other one I know was Sherbet Lemon." He glanced at the statue hopefully, but it still didn't move.

"Yes, well," Hermione put in, rolling her eyes, "Dumbledore always was a bit of a fruit and nut bar, wasn't he?"

"Hey, Dumbledore's a great-" Ron's indignant tirade died in an instant as the statue leapt aside and the hidden staircase ascended slowly. "-fruit and nut bar," he finished, staring wide-eyed and swallowing.

The four Gryffindors stared at the rising staircase for a moment, then jumped on quickly. Ginny turned to find Harry shaking his head in amazement, a strange grin on his face. "What's a fruit and nut bar?" she asked him in a whisper.

He just shook his head again and looked up, stepping forward as the staircase stopped moving. Flattening his hair nervously - Ginny hated that habit of his - he knocked on the office door, but received no answer. Frowning, he glanced round at Ron and Hermione, but they shrugged. Not wanting to feel left out, Ginny shrugged too, but Harry had already turned back to the door and she scowled.

She gasped as Harry pushed on the door anyway, peering round him as it opened onto Dumbledore's cluttered office. She followed him as he stepped into the room, hearing Ron and Hermione step in behind her, and screwed her face up in confusion. Dumbledore wasn't here, and nor was McGonagall or any of the strangers. The office was-

Not quite empty, she realised suddenly.

"Who are you?" she heard Harry ask, and stepped sideways so she could see who he was directing the question to.

Sitting behind Dumbledore's desk was - well, actually, someone who looked like Dumbledore. He seemed tall, from what Ginny could see of him when he was seated, and he had long white hair and a long white beard, and he had strange robes exactly like Dumbledore's, and even a hat - just like Dumbledore's. But...but...it wasn't Dumbledore.

"Albus Dumbledore," the voice answered sharply, in a clipped, posh accent, rather unlike Dumbledore's.

"No, you're not," Harry answered simply.

"Insolent child!" the man cried indignantly, rising to his feet and glaring down at the four students. His glare was rather frightening, actually, though Ginny couldn't quite place why...

She saw Hermione glance at Ron out of the corner of her eye, and looked round to see them both clutching their wands down by their sides. Nodding decisively, she pulled her own wand out of her pocket and did the same, careful to keep it out of sight of the strange man.

"Of course I'm Albus Dumbledore," the man continued in a much quieter voice, as if he had realised his mistake in shouting at them. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well, you're- you're-" Ginny could see that Harry was unsure of how to say what he was trying to say, and she frowned. "You're..."

"Yes?"

"Blue," he blurted out, and the man froze.

"I have a skin condition," he explained, narrowing his eyes at Harry.

"And- and-"

Ginny suddenly realised what was so frightening about the man's glare.

"And," Harry continued, taking a deep breath, "your eyes are red."

There was a long pause before the man answered. "I'm an albino."

"Actually," Hermione interrupted in a tone of voice Ginny recognised well - it meant she was going to be smart. "Most albinos don't have red eyes at all: they just have very pale eyes."

There was another long pause as the man stared at Hermione, then tilted his head and frowned thoughtfully. "Really?" Hermione nodded. "Because I always thought they did."

"No, that's just albino mice and other small creatures, really," Hermione explained. "Red eyes in humans are extremely rare - they're more likely to be a very pale blue."

"Ah, right." The man nodded and rubbed at his chin idly - Ginny noticed that his beard moved from side to side as he did so, and realised it was fixed on with something elasticated. "You know, I could do with someone like you in my senior management team. Pellaeon would never be able to tell me something like that - oh, he's strategic enough, quick learner, loyal too, but a bit of an idiot really."

Another few seconds of silence passed as the man continued to frown thoughtfully, Hermione grinned proudly, and everyone else stared at them in a stunned fashion. "Um," Ginny started, "but-"

"But I am Albus Dumbledore," the man interrupted decisively. "I am in charge of this school now, and you shall assist me in finding the Rebels in this facility at once, or you shall face the consequences."

"We've suffered consequences before," Ron said in what sounded like a very brave voice. Ginny looked round and saw he was, however, crouched behind Hermione and holding his wand out blindly. Hermione stepped aside and he straightened bashfully.

"Not my consequences," the man informed him coldly.

"What are your consequences?" Ginny asked him curiously.

The man seemed lost for a moment, then he scowled. "Just pray you never find out."

All four children glanced at each other, then Harry turned to the strange man. "Tell us who these Rebels are, then, and we might help."

"Technically, I don't know, since I haven't met them yet. That's not for another six years or so. But," he continued quickly, "I can tell you what to look out for. All Rebels are scruffy, never in correct uniform, and speak in American accents."

"Hey, that man we saw earlier was exactly like-"

Ron's voice cut off with a yelp as Hermione stood on his foot. "Nonsense," she said loftily. "We haven't seen any Rebels, I'm afraid. We can't help you."

The man frowned, seemingly annoyed. "Damn. Now I have to think of consequences." His voice sounded very much like that of an author struggling to find a plot point. Ginny wondered how she knew that, and shrugged. Couldn't be important.

A few moments passed, then Ron spoke up, feigning nonchalance. "Take your time."

The man scowled again, and his red eyes seemed to darken. "Kitchen duty!" he cried triumphantly, giving them a tight smile. "You're all on kitchen duty for two standard weeks."

Ginny frowned and glanced round at the others. Harry stared at the man, bemused, and Ron tilted his head, scratching at his cheek idly. "But the elves don't let people help in the kitchens," he told the strange man in a very matter-of-fact tone.

"Perhaps they should," Hermione told him suddenly, a thoughtful frown on her face. "All right, so they won't accept wages or holidays, but the least we can do is help out from time to time-"

"Hermione," Harry hissed, "the man's punishing us. Stop supporting him."

"Oh," she said bashfully. "Right."

"I think that's a no-go on the kitchen duty," Ginny told the man helpfully, finally getting a word in.

He blinked and rubbed the back of his head - his white hair moved, seeming in danger of falling off, and Ginny realised it was fake, too. "Well," he said, then stopped. "Well," he repeated, standing to vague attention once again, "I have plenty more consequences if kitchen duty's not an option."

Again, there was a long pause. Ron said hopefully, "You could just let us go."

"Absolutely not. Consequences." He frowned. "I always delegated this sort of thing," he complained quietly to no one in particular. "Or it was always something easy. Never had to punish child Rebel sympathizers..."

"No, really," Ron continued. "You could just let us go. We promise not to help the Rebels."

"You promise?" The man frowned thoughtfully, and Ginny thought the concept seemed a new one to him. "Promise... Well, I'd have to take a token as assurance."

Ginny looked round as the other three fumbled in their pockets, and felt like hitting her head against the wall when they produced their respective items: Ron had Fred and George's Explosive Snap deck; Hermione tentatively held out her second-best feather quill; and Harry had some Muggle money that he scowled at.

The man blinked, then looked at Ginny. "Well, girl? What about you?"

"Um..." She rifled through the pockets of her own robes, but all she could come up with was one of Fred and George's Nosebleed Nougats. She offered it to the strange man with a rueful smile. "Skiving Snackbox - I bet someone like you could use one of these!"

Once again, the man blinked at her, then shook his head decisively. "No good," he declared. "Your tokens are of no value to me-"

"But that's a whole fiver!" Harry informed the man indignantly. "You could get a whole...um..."

"A book," Hermione suggested. "You could buy a Muggle book."

Harry just looked at her.

"No value," the man repeated testily, "so I shall choose a token myself. Perhaps that will encourage you to retain your Imperial loyalties."

"Imperials?" Hermione's voice sounded as if she was being smart again. "I don't think we're Imperials, sir. Britain's not an empire anymore."

"Of course you're Imperials," he told her dismissively. "You have English accents."

There was a distinct pause - apparently, no one could argue with that - before the man turned back to Ginny. "You," he said simply. "Sit down there."

Ginny obediently moved over to the wooden chair beside Dumbledore's desk, then paused about a step away. "Wait, why?"

"Don't question my authority, child. Just do as I say."

"But I'm a teenager," she told him, tilting her head curiously. "I'm supposed to question authority."

Harry and Ron nodded their agreement; after a moment's hesitation, so did Hermione.

"Teenagers," the man sighed. "This is why the Chiss don't have adolescence... Well," he started, talking to all four students, "you have failed to produce a token to my satisfaction. For this reason, I am retaining one of your number; upon the neutralisation of any Rebel forces in this facility, it shall be returned to you."

Harry, Ron and Ginny all looked at Hermione expectantly. She rolled her eyes and told them: "He's taking Ginny hostage."

"Haven't we done that plot before?" Ginny asked in a puzzled manner. "With Tom Riddle?"

"Look at the genre this is in," Hermione instructed them, waving her hand in a way that was supposed to take in the man behind the desk, as well as some unknown force - or, Force. "No one is afraid to re-use plotlines."

There was a pause while everyone noted how many pauses there had been in this scene so far, then Ron finally stepped out from behind Hermione. "Here," he said rather indignantly, "you can't take my sister hostage."

"Thanks, Ron, for coming to my aid so quickly," Ginny said sarcastically.

"Of course I can," the man told him with a tight smile. "Now, I suggest you leave immediately or I will be forced to spend hours trying to think up a harsher punishment."

"Go on," Ginny told them with a sigh. "I can handle him with a Bat Bogey Hex if I need to."

"She's right, Ron," Hermione said. Then, in a lower voice: "We should go find Dumbledore and McGonagall."

Harry nodded in agreement. After a quick glare at the strange blue man, Ron nodded as well. "OK," he said in a harsh voice, "we'll go. But if you hurt my little sister, then...then..."

"You'll hurt me?" the man offered.

"Yeah," Ron agreed, nodding vigorously. "I'll hurt you."

With a quick, sympathetic glance at Ginny, Hermione ushered the boys out of Dumbledore's office. The door closed behind them, and the man finally sat in his chair again. "Charming," he noted dryly, then looked at Ginny. "Sit down."

She did, her wand still in her hand but tucked into her sleeve now. "So," she started, "are you one of You Know Who's henchmen?"

"You Know Who... Palpatine?" He frowned. "A mere henchman... I suppose. Why?"

Maybe Palpatine was the Death Eaters' codename for He Who Must Not Be Named. Ginny shrugged. "Just wondering. How did you get into Hogwarts, then?"

"Ah," the man said mysteriously, that tight smile returning. "My methods are not for mere human children - or teenagers - to know."

Ginny wondered for half a second if that included the author. "Well, what are you going to do when you get the Rebels, or whatever they are?"

"Then the next stage of my plan will be put into operation." His smile remained.

He didn't seem to want to elaborate, and Ginny really couldn't be bothered annoying him about it any further. She'd quite frankly had enough of evil overlords, and was happy to just wait for Ron, Hermione and Harry to do whatever they had to do before rescuing her. They'd be able to eventually - they always were.

The man started examining a curious model on Dumbledore's desk, and Ginny searched her pockets for anything she might have missed earlier. After a few moments, she came up with half a packet of non-Weasley-fied custard creams, and sighed. "Here, you want one?" she asked, taking a biscuit for herself and holding the packet out.

Blinking, the man looked at the packet carefully. "They aren't poisoned?"

Ginny shrugged. "As much as any other British sweet."

Apparently satisfied with that, the man took a biscuit and bit into it. "Quite nice," he said cautiously upon swallowing, then popped the rest into his mouth. "What are they called?"

"Custard creams," Ginny told him, then sighed. She imagined this was going to be a rather long night...