A/N: To answer a question, I don't write every week, because I think most of the time, it's a routine day – classes, meals, studying, etc. The "same old, same old". The Reporter missing Lucius' death was intentional, BTW.

For copyright and disclaimers, please see chapter 1
8 – Classes, Week Seven, Second Year
Wednesday, October 13, 1999:
Hogwarts, Staff room: 08:02
Albus took a sip of tea, then added, "One last bit of news, Narcissa will be taking a few days off. She is meeting with her solicitor in London this morning."

"Solicitor? I do hope there's nothing wrong," Filius said.

"No, as I understand it this has to do with the estate." Albus paused, adding, "Lucius' death in Azkaban?"

"I don't recall anything in the Reporter, and I doubt the Prophet would have anything," Callista said. She prodded a half-awake Sinistra, asking, "You hear anything about Malfoy?"

"Ummna," she mumbled, and Minerva chuckled, "Let the poor dear sleep."

"In any event, has anyone had suggestions regarding financing?"

"I spoke with Mr. Lacombe regarding his alumni suggestion," Filius said. "Apparently, the way it works, one particular project at a time is solicited, as a general appeal is not as successful. For instance, the hothouses we discussed. We put together a letter describing the need, asking for ten thousand galleons…"

"We would only need six," Minerva said.

Filius nodded. "Very true, however, a bit more gold in the capital improvements budget can't hurt, hmm?" Minerva grunted and nodded, Filius continuing, "We set up a special account with Gringott's, and on the letter to our alumni, simply have tick boxes for different amounts. One galleon, ten, fifty, and so forth, with a place for them to write an amount they wish to donate. This way, our recent graduates, who may be squeezed financially, can still donate a galleon or two, while leaving room for the larger donors. They simply fill in the amount and their vault number, and owl it off to Gringotts. In a month or so, we send out a very nice thank you letter, with a listing of donors, and perhaps a piccy or two of the hothouses, with our smiling faces."

"Very Slytherin-like, Filius. My compliments to Mr. Lacombe," Severus said. "While we do not wish to state the students are reduced to porridge three times a day, we can be one step away in implying it, due, of course, to Ministry bungling beyond our control. We deeply regret the necessity of soliciting funds, but see no other alternatives." He steepled his fingers, asking, "How well does this scheme work?"

"Very well, according to Peter," Filius smiled. "His mother works in the alumni department of a university in Canada. She warns against 'going to the well too often', though, and suggests only about every six to nine months. This gives the alumni time to forget how much they've donated. Another option we might consider is to have a sum automatically deducted. We can recognize them specially, and give them a plaque to hang on their wall, something suitable for muggles, of course."

"Interesting," the headmaster mused. "Pomona, will you draw up an appropriate letter with Poppy, and we'll discuss it at next week's meeting? Harry, I believe you mentioned you were going to Diagon Alley this weekend, would you meet with Gringott's regarding the account?" He nodded, and Albus cocked an eye. "Minerva, I believe your students had a suggestion?"

"They did, they suggested an outdoor carnival of sorts. From their description, I would suggest around the Easter hols, as they specifically mentioned a 'dunking booth'."

Harry chuckled, Minerva asking, "You know what they are?"

"Oh, yes," he glanced over at Lara, who was trying to suppress her mirth. "It's a tank of water that various persons are seated over. You pay a galleon, and have three chances to throw a small ball, like a baseball or cricket ball (he conjured them) at a target. If you hit the target, the person is dunked. They are most popular with figures of authority, like headmasters, faculty or heads of houses." He grinned, adding, "If we do this, I would suggest a weekend, and post a schedule of 'dunkee's'. That also means we cannot retaliate against students if they dunk us."

"We might want to add in the Quidditch teams to the roster," Lara said. "I'll volunteer to swim if the rest of you lot do too. You might want to have the teams operate the booth while their Head is dunked."

"For the school?" Severus mused. "If the headmaster is willing to sacrifice his dignity, I can do no less. I myself would be willing to pay more than a galleon to dunk Fudge."

"Umbridge," Hagrid rumbled; a dark look in his eye.

Wednesday, October 13, 1999:
London, Millius & Pewes Ltd. Solicitors, conference room: 08:07
"Thank you for coming, Mrs. Malfoy," the solicitor said, pouring tea. "Especially after such shocking news about your husband, you must have been overcome with grief."

"To some extent, but my feelings for Lucius were lost when he killed our son," Narcissa said, removing her black hat and veil to sip her tea.

"Ah," the solicitor said, uncomfortably. "In any case, the will stands as before. Since Draco has pre-deceased you, his share of the estate reverts." He slid a thin file across to her, "The estates and properties he has left you, with the values as of the close of business yesterday."

Narcissa silently perused the file, looking up, "These are all debit properties. Where are the income sources?"

The solicitor looked uncomfortable. "Those properties are under a separate account, willed to another party." Narcissa raised an eyebrow, the solicitor adding, "I regret I cannot disclose their identity. Mr. Malfoy left you a letter, to be read after you have left our offices." He slid a business card and envelope over, "I believe that concludes our business, Mrs. Malfoy. If you wish to retain our services, you will find our rates most reasonable."

"I would like to see a copy of Lucius' will."

"Unfortunately, it is sealed, by Ministry order," the solicitor said. He extracted a copy of the order from his file, "For your records, Mrs. Malfoy, no charge. If you wish to contest the order in court, you are welcome to do so, as I said, our rates are most reasonable." He stood, nodded politely, "Have a wonderful day," and left.

Wednesday, October 13, 1999:
London, Diagon Alley, Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream: 08:57
Narcissa found herself, she didn't know how, sitting on Florean's patio. She was unaware she was observed by Peter Pettigrew as she sat, looking at the file, the thin envelope, and the solicitor's card.

"Tea, ma'am?"

"Hm? Oh, yes, please," she shook herself as the waiter withdrew; placing her bag on the chair next to her, she opened the envelope.

October 31, 1995

Narcissa,
'Fidelus Verias'

Narcissa shivered as the spell took effect. With an effort, she returned to the letter.

There, that wasn't so bad, was it? That little phrase triggers a spell that binds you to my will, a spell that I cast on you years ago, when we, or should I say, I entered our Dark Lord's service.

If you are reading this, then that fool of a solicitor has followed my instructions, and conveyed title to various properties to you. He may have seemed nervous when meeting with you, if so, he had good reason. I have held his wife and daughter hostage to his good behaviour for fifteen years as I write this. You may ask how – a minor variant on the 'Tempus' spell has held them outside the flow of time. He is now reading a letter that your voice unlocked for him, detailing where and how he may rescue one of them. Sadly, he tried to betray me once; therefore his rescue of one will mean the silent death of the other as she suffocates in her tomb.

No matter, we are concerned with far greater things. You may be wondering how you can bow to my will (as a proper, obedient wife should), when I am dead. Fear not, dear Narcissa. Have you received my body for burial? I would be surprised if you have, that fool Fudge should know better. No, even if you have, it would be that of a worthless minion, not I.

Why am I writing this letter? If you are reading it, then that whelp Potter has somehow managed to defeat Our Lord in battle. It is therefore our duty, as I have pledged as head of the Malfoys, to assist in his glorious rebirth. Fear not, as a good husband, I have withheld my knowledge of your treachery from Our Lord, as I have withheld knowledge of Draco's activities in support of that fool Dumbledore. Draco will be reading his own letter now, do not bother to exchange them; they are charmed to appear blank to any but your own eyes. In addition, neither of you can discuss the content of your respective letters with the other, or indeed, with anyone. I would not try to return to the solicitor's office, you are the widow of someone who has just killed his wife or daughter. I doubt he would be inclined to help.

You may wonder why I have selected those specific properties to will to you. Simple appearance, as it would look peculiar were you to receive naught. However, these are the most worthless of my properties, held for this occasion. You may not sell them to raise capital for five years from the date of my 'death'; else they revert to Ministry ownership. You may be assured that great idiot Fudge will be salivating for ownership; he will have free title to them. He has taken enough of my gold; he is a typical politician, worthless at anything else.

If you to attempt to sell these properties, you will still owe the ruinous taxes on them. Why give them to you? I shall be contacting you shortly, at which time I will pay part of the overdue taxes on these, through transfer to your Gringott's account. At that time, you will obey my commands, or die on the streets of London in abject poverty.

Your husband,
Lucius

PS: This letter and its envelope will destroy themselves five seconds after you read this.

Narcissa gave a startled cry as the letter and envelope she clutched in her hand burst into flame, the ashes blowing across Diagon Alley.

Saturday, October 16, 1999:
London, Diagon Alley, Gringott's bank conference room: 10:08
"Good morning, Percy," Ginny said coolly as he was led in by two security goblins.

"Ginny? Harry? Thank Merlin you're here! It's been horrible!"

"I do take offense at that, Mr. Weasley," Griplink said. "Your accommodations have been far more pleasant than suffered by my kinswoman, Miss Wayne during her stay in Azkaban." He leaned forward, showing his pointed teeth, "A visit YOU arranged, if I'm not mistaken."

The tall Minister of Education blanched as he processed that. He turned slightly, and saw a young girl in business robes (expensive business robes!) sitting between the goblin and a very fit oriental woman. At the head of table sat Mackrack, the head of Gringott's, and therefore the head of the goblins. He swallowed, taking the single chair facing the others. Harry sat at Mackrack's right hand, Ginny to his right.

"I do apologize, sir. The quarters were sufficient." 'So this is the Wayne chit.' Percy thought, recalling the photograph in her skimpy dossier. "May I inquire? Your accommodations in Azkaban were inadequate?"

She grunted; piercing green eyes locked on him. "Yes, Minister Weasley, I would describe them as inadequate."

"My apologies, then," he said, dismissing the girl as he turned to regard Mackrack. "I presume that you will be releasing me with a full, public apology."

"Why should we do that?" the Wayne girl asked. "Why do you think you're here?"

"To receive the apology from Gringott's for their mistake in kidnapping a senior Minister, of course!"

To Percy's horror, Wayne, the Japanese woman and the goblins laughed. Even Harry and Ginny had smiles on their faces.

"Oh, my, that was good, Weasley!" the Japanese woman said. "Perhaps I should introduce myself. I'm Sheila Hawking, corporate counsel for Wayne Enterprises, and godmother to Mattie, here. No, we wanted to see what kind of fool would use stolen money to pay their bills. It's unusual."

Percy blinked. "Stolen money? Paying my bills? But I…"

"One other item of business," Sheila said, hoisting an aluminum briefcase to the table. She popped the latches, spinning the case around so Percy could see. "I have another ten thousand carats of diamonds. DeBeers seems to be paying more in Russia this week, so it might be best to go through your Moscow office."

"On account, of course?" Griplink had pulled a rather large diamond out, and was admiring the play of light across it. Percy was mesmerized; he'd never seen a gem the size of a goose egg…

"Your usual commission, of course," Sheila smiled warmly; then glanced at Percy, a cold expression dropping over her face. "Regarding Mr. Weasley, I recommend someplace a little less comfortable. Perhaps somewhat like Mattie's cell…"

"We unfortunately do not have anything quite that wet," Mackrack said. "We do have some lovely cells near the dragons, though."

"Under the dragons is more accurate, sir," Griplink said, replacing the diamond. "Why, Weasley, we'll even pay you a galleon a month to shovel out the dung for us. We'll apply it to your debt; you should have it paid off in no time!"

"Can we torture him a bit first? Pleeease?" Mattie whined. "I owe him, I really do!" Her eyes glittered malevolently, and Percy recalled, 'She's a Slytherin! Oh, Merlin!'

"Even though he's a Ministry twit, he's still my brother," Ginny said, and Percy breathed a sigh of relief. "A galleon a week, and a shower once a month, please."

"Oh, all right, Mrs. Potter. It will cut into our profits, however," Mackrack said. He nodded at the guards, who had snickered silently at Percy the whole time. They advanced, pulling him to his feet as he scrabbled at the table. "Wait!"

"Whatever for?" Sheila asked coolly.

"I have information that you can use. I'm very close to Minister Fudge!"

"Why should we care? He's not important to us," Mackrack said. "Family and gold are what's important to us. You have no gold, and you're not kin."

"Ginny! Please! I'm begging you!"

"I've gone as far as I can, Percy. Anyone that would imprison children…" Ginny scowled at him, adding, "I've gotten you a shower, Percy. That's more than I should have done."

"Children? What do you mean? Wayne was Fudge's idea, not mine!"

"Prove it," Mattie said. "Have you a pensieve, Mr. Mackrack?"

"I think we can find one."

"It's interesting, but it doesn't change anything, Weasley," Sheila said. "Pity, I do hope you enjoy the smell of dragon dung."

"WAIT!" Percy screeched, scrabbling at the table again. "What if I were to… to… spy for you? On the Ministry?"

"What makes you think we don't already have spies there?"

Percy blinked, asking, "Near the Minister? I'm a Vice-Minister, just below Minister Fudge. I have access to lots of information!"

"Hmm. Excuse us a moment, please," Sheila asked, as the others got up and huddled around her. Percy licked his lips as the guards snickered at him behind his back. Ginny looked up from the huddle, shooting a glare at him, before saying, "He's not worth the risk!" and diving back into the huddle.

"Weasley, I've been outvoted," Sheila told him. "Three to two to one, we accept your offer. You will be the loving brother who writes long letters to your sister; if you wish to encrypt something, you will use your copy of '5000 simply useful spells' as your key."

Percy blinked, "How did you know about that book?"

"It's on your desk at work, twit," Ginny replied, adding, "I still think he would have been more useful with the dung."

"Err, who was the one?" Percy asked.

"Me," Mattie replied. "I was hoping I could have you for my very own … toy." She smiled sweetly, and Percy swallowed nervously. "Pity," she added.

"One other thing," Harry said. "Fudge will likely want a loyalty test from you," as he popped open a small case. "This is a standard wand, with one minor difference. If you try to AK someone, a small charm will trigger, giving a variation on the standard stunner instead of the Killing Curse. Same green light, same response, you can even cut off a finger to prove death if necessary."

"Save the finger, please, and when you portkey the body out, let me know," Ginny said. "'Enervate' won't work on this curse, but we know the counter-curse, and can re-attach the finger. The other two Unforgivables work just fine with this wand."

"How do I explain my release, though? It's been a few days."

"A little over two weeks, actually," Harry said. "Ginny sweet-talked me into covering your debt, as your loving sister."

"Mr. Griplink, please apply part of the proceeds from the diamonds to Mr. Weasley's debt, would you? I wouldn't want Gringott's to be out gold." Sheila looked over at Percy, adding, "I hope you're worth it."

After Percy left, Harry leaned forward, asking, "Think he bought it?"

Sheila snorted, "Completely. I've had very few clients that were that frightened." She nudged Mattie, adding, "You make a good 'Bad Cop'."

Mattie adjusted her Slytherin tie, "Being evil can be fun sometimes."