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Crumpets Aren't My Style

By Marz

Inside Out

The radio buzzed, barely audible over the hail of gun fire and intermittent chiming of zats. Daniel bent his head, trying to hear and keep a clear view of the door in case any of the Prometheus' crew tried to charge the bridge again.

"We're loosing navigation!" Walter's voice buzzed. "If we're going to make a run on them it has to be now!"

Daniel swore and risked looking over his shoulder to check on Snape. He was still sitting in captain's chair, arms crossed with a scowl on his face. He'd started pouting when Siler suggested they super accelerate the Prometheus using a hyperspace window and ram the Goa'uld ship with it, after all their other weapons failed to penetrate the larger craft's shields. Snape claimed he wasn't interested in suicide and had from that point refused to help.

"ALRIGHT," Daniel shouted, pressing the talk button. "IF WE CAN TAKE OUT THE GENERATORS-"

He cut himself off as his voice echoed around a suddenly otherwise silent room. Daniel looked at Snape again, but he was still sitting exactly where he had been. It wasn't something he'd done. Daniel crept toward the corridor leading to the bridge. They'd been unable to bring down the door. He leaned around the corner and ducked back.

There were three men standing in the corridor, P90's in their hands. Daniel looked again. The men held their guns pointed in his general direction, but they were looking around blankly as if they no longer remembered what to do with them. Daniel's radio buzzed and he almost set off his zat.

"Dr. Jackson?" it was Siler. "Dr, Jackson, something's up."

Daniel pressed the talk button. "Did they all just stop down there too?"

"Yeah, they're just standing around."

"Ok, hang on a second. Tell Walter to hang on too. I'm going to hail the Goa'uld ship."

Daniel backed towards the com center, and typed in the codes. There was a tense moment, and then the monitors above the captain's chair flickered on. Daniel gave Snape a little shove and he less then graciously got out of the way. A Jaffa appeared on the screen. He still bore the mark of Ra upon his forehead, though that System Lord had been dead for the better part of ten years. The Jaffa blinked at the screen, but did not speak.

"Hello?" Daniel said.

The Jaffa blinked again, his brow lined slightly as if he were trying to think of something but could not remember what.

"Is Ba'al there?" asked Daniel.

The Jaffa opened his mouth to speak, then stopped, then started again as if trying to figure out how his own mouth worked.

"My Lord Ba'al….the false god…I…I do not know," he said finally.

"Can you please go check?" Daniel asked.

The Jaffa started to turn away from the screen.

"No! Wait! Is Teal'c or General O'Neill there?"

"The shol'va…I…Teal'c was imprisoned. There was an escape…I do not know where he is now."

"Can you go find Teal'c? Tell him to contact the Prometheus, please?"

The Jaffa nodded and disappeared. Daniel looked back at the doorway. The three men who had been doing their best to shoot him were now peering around the corner, looking more then a little confused.

"Dr.Jackson?" said one of them. "What are you doing here?"

"Turn here!" Carter shouted.

"Are you certain?" Teal'c asked.

"Yes."

They turned the corner and continued to drag their perspective burdens. Teal'c carried General O'Neill, while Carter dragged Ba'al, semiconscious, bound, and gagged. It could not have been more then five minutes since they found O'Neill and Ba'al in the chamber, but it seemed like hours had passed searching for the room containing the sarcophagus. They ran up another corridor, passing several more rebel Jaffa who stood about dazed. On of them called after Teal'c as they passed, but he did not stop to answer. Up one corridor and down the next they ran. Several times Teal'c slipped, nearly falling as O'Neill's blood slicked the floor.

Finally the door was in sight. Carter rushed to the controls and pressed the 'open' button. They stumbled into the room. The sarcophagus was open already, an unholy white glow coming from within. Teal'c lowered O'Neill into the box and then leaned back, pressing the glyph on the side.

Nothing happened.

He tried again, but again nothing happened. He rushed to the other side of the huge gold embossed box, and pried off the side panel. All the connections appeared intact, all the crystals whole and unbroken. He looked to Carter and with a nod they traded place. He stood guard over Ba'al while she leaned into the workings of the alien machine, disappearing almost to the waist. She swore and crawled back out.

"There's nothing wrong with the equipments. It must be some sort of programming lock out."

They both turned to look at the Goa'uld bound and gagged on the floor. His eyes were still unfocused and rolling in his head.

"Do you think we've got any chance of getting it out of him," Carter asked.

Teal'c shook his head. He was about to speak when the door slid open and an unarmed Jaffa hurried into the room. He gave Teal'c a short bow, and then stopped as if he had forgotten what he was going to say.

"Why are you here?" Teal'c prompted.

"We have received a transmission from the Prometheus. They requested you contact them," the Jaffa replied.

Daniel leaned over the screen. Carter's voice was unusually high as she spoke.

"-bring over as many medical suppliesas you can. We have to stabilize him until we can find Dr. Carlson."

Daniel nodded. The surgeon from the Prometheus was still unaccounted for. He had to be somewhere on the Goa'uld ship.

"I'll ring over in five minutes," Daniel said, turning off the com.

Walter took over the station as soon as he stood up. The tech sergeant was going to call the SGC and try to convince them that everything was once again under control, hopefully heading off any sort of nuclear strike.

Daniel adjusted his zat in its holster and then ran for the infirmary. He snatched up an emergency med kit and then found a plastic bucket. He ran to the refrigerators and began shove bags of saline solution and O negative into it. Next he tossed in plastic tubing, needles, scalpels, and gauze. He noticed Snape had followed him and thrust a portable automatic defibulator into his hands. He jogged to the ring room and Snape followed.

The wizard let out a startled shout as the rings activated, leaping from the floor and swallowing them in a flash of light. Rya'c was waiting for them in the ring room. He looked dazed but led them straight to O'Neill. Carter was kneeling on the floor, pressing a wad of none too clean cloth to O'Neill's abdomen. Daniel dropped down on the prone man's other side and tore open his sleeve, rolling back the cloth and trying to find a vein. He reached into the bucket and pulled out an I. V.

Dr. Frasier had shown him how to do this. He'd even assisted her a few times stabilizing the injured in the field before dragging them back through the gate. He'd never done it on his own though. Carter pulled the blood pressure cuff out of the med kit and threw it too him. Peripherally Daniel noticed another Jaffa enter the room, and speak to Teal'c.

"They found Dr. Carlson. He is dead," Teal'c announced.

Daniel looked at the blood pressure cuff. It was falling despite the nearly empty bag of saline he was holding above his head.

"Call Walter!" Daniel shouted. "See if he can convince the SGC to send a doctor up. They can bring him up with the Asgard beams."

"V-fib!" Carter shouted, a stethoscope dangling from one of her ears.

Daniel turned and saw Snape lurking in the corner with the defibulator. He scrambled across the floor and snatched it from him. They stuck the little white pads onto O'Neill's chest.

"Clear!" Carter shouted and hit the button.

O'Neill's body twitched. They looked at the monitors. His heart was going too fast, but at least it was moving blood again. Daniel started another I.V. That bag emptied and he started another, blood this time. Teal'c returned.

"General Briggs has refused to send medical personnel," he announced.

"Rya'c," Carter called. "Get everyone you can find to search for a Goa'uld healing device!"

Daniel chewed his lip but didn't say anything. Carter had some ability to use Goa'uld technology, because of her time as an involuntary host to a Tok'ra, but her control of the healing device was shaky at best. Daniel started another bag. The floor around O'Neill was soaked. Fluid was coming out as fast as they pumped it in. He wasn't going to make it.

Snape watched the muggles work their primitive medicine, shouting at each other and hovering on the edge of panic. How did they expect electrocution to help the injured? His eyes drifted to Potter, bound and gagged on the other side of the room. There was a trickle of blood coming from his scalp and a large bruise spreading across the side of his face. His eyes were bleary and unfocused.

The muggles were convinced that some sort of parasite had crawled up into the boy's brain and was controlling his actions. He supposed it wasn't out of the question. On his own Potter certainly didn't have the focused mind it would require to control so many with the Imperious.

"His heart's stopped!" the muggle woman shouted, as if the man less then two feet from her wouldn't hear otherwise.

They hit the buttons on their little box again and the man on the floor jerked as the electricity flowed through him. The little monitors bore flat lines and an annoying high pitched beep wailed in the air. They hit the button again. Jackson dug through the bucket and then through the kit, finally coming up with one of the largest syringes Snape had ever seen. He put a hand to O'Neill's bloody chest and seemed to be feeling around for something.

"Do you know what your doing?" Carter asked.

"The adrenalin needs to go directly into the heart," Jackson answered.

"Do you really think that will help?" Snape couldn't help but ask.

"It won't make him any deader," Jackson snapped.

He pushed the needle in slammed the plunger down. Yellow liquid was forced out of the tube. The monitor picked up a fluttering little blip. They shocked him again. It actually seemed to take. Jackson attached another bag of blood. They were fighting a battle they couldn't win and knew it. Still, Snape was impressed in the slightest sort of way by their tenacity, and very curious about where they got so much human blood from. He felt eyes on him and looked up. Teal'c was staring at him.

"Can you use your magics to help him?" Teal'c asked.

"I suppose I could," Snape said.

The kneeling muggles jerked up their heads to stare at him, their expressions both enraged and hopeful.

"But," Snape continued, "It would only draw this out. I don't have the power to repair all his injuries. He's too far gone."

"Then do what you can," ordered Carter. "Seconds matter."

Snape considered being offended. She was one of those people who had threatened him and kept him locked in a tiny room under a mountain. It would probably be smarter to just stun them all, take Potter and return to Earth. Of course then Dumbledore would ask him what had happened and where his pet werewolf had gotten to.

Snape raised his wand and brought up his best put-upon expression. He was using someone else's wand so he didn't expect ideal results, but he began to chant restorative charms and sealing spells. If he had a cauldron and a decent stock of ingredients he could have the muggle up and running about his pointless life again in fifteen minutes, but as he was potion less, slowing the bleeding and strengthening the lungs and heart were all he could really do. The little muggle shock box showed a slow and steady heart beat though blood pressure was still low. He stepped back. Blood had soaked into the cuffs of the pants the muggles had given him.

"Thank you," Jackson said, voice oozing with sincerity.

The woman echoed him and Teal'c gave him a half bow.

"I am going to attempt to contact my own people. They may be able to intervene further," Snape said and left the room.

Despite the apparent vanity of the creature who designed the craft in which he walked, it took him a long time to find a mirror. He set about charming its surface, which thanks to Lupin's finicky wand took three separate applications to settle in. He leaned towards the glass and spoke.

"Albus Dumbledore."

The entire surface obscured in fog, slowly lifting to reveal an ancient man with long white hair.

"Severus? My dear boy, how are you?" Dumbledore asked, sounding every bit the doddering grandfather.

"The task I undertook on your orders is for the most part completed. However a matter has come to light that requires, if not your presence, at least the supervision of someone very competent, and trained healers as well."

"May I ask who is injured?"

"The less the matter is discussed the better, but it's only a muggle that requires serious healers' attention."

"Truly?" the old man asked, wild hope apparent in his eyes.

"You will have to create a very long distance portkey," Snape said. "Can you use the mirror to set the destination?"

"No, but I can arrange for it to home in on you if you have no objection."

"It is very far, but I suppose if Lupin can do it anyone can."

"Is Remus with you?"

"In a manner of speaking."

"We'll be there within half an hour."

"Where are we going sir?" Bill asked, eyeing the other occupants of the room.

Aside from his brother Charlie there were three witches in St. Mungo's robes, most likely healers, and three other members of the Order. Crystal Murdock he could name, but not the other two.

"Hopefully all the way to our destination," Dumbledore answered cheerfully.

Bill looked at Charlie who shrugged. He and his brother had been helping dig through the remains of the Ministry of Magic when Fawkes had arrived with a summons to 12 Grimmauld Place. As they disapparated Bill prepared himself for more tragedy. That was all anyone expected these days. He was a bit surprised when Headmaster Dumbledore stated very calmly that they were going on a trip for an unknown length of time, and that they should pack a change of underwear and a toothbrush or two. Now the ancient man stood before them with a bicycle tire in his hands and a very cheerful look on his face. The nine of them stepped together to grab hold of the tire, which Bill assumed was a portkey.

"Ms. Murdock," said Dumbledore, "Please cast bubble charm around us. If my calculations are off, we will likely need a few breaths of air in which to make corrections."

The woman nodded and swung her wand. Bill frowned. The only time he'd ever used that charm before travel was when he was going somewhere that might be underwater. He traded glances with Charlie, who shrugged.

Dumbledore cleared his throat and announced "We'll be on our way in 3…2…1…"

He'd never taken a portkey quite like this before. Usually when one traveled, the world swirled passed in a blurred rainbow, but all Bill had seen was darkness and few streaks of white. Bill took a deep and shaking breath as they landed. They stood in a long hallway. The floor was polished black stone and the walls gleamed with gold, illuminated by glowing panels near their base. They were covered in hieroglyphics. He'd learned to recognize a few while working for Gringott's in Egypt but what the walls said made little sense. It was something about the god Ba'al, but Bill was fairly certain that was a Mesopotamian deity.

A shadow moved and Bill drew his wand. He glanced sideways at Dumbledore, but the ancient man did not look disturbed in the least. The shadow came closer and he saw that it was Professor Snape. The rather greasy and unpleasant man nodded to Dumbledore and then let his scathing gaze wander over the rest of the group.

"Two Weasleys? These are indeed desperate times," Snape said.

"You've got blood on your face," Charlie pointed out.

Bill looked closer and saw the Snape did indeed have a few drops of blood splattered on his forehead and right cheek.

"Yes, the muggles are getting it everywhere," Snape said.

He turned and walked down the hall, and the rest of the group followed. They came to an ornate doorway, with two men in grubby chain mail standing on either side of it. The men had shaved heads and symbols on their foreheads, the man on the right had the symbol of the Egyptian serpent god Apophis, the one on the left had the symbol of Horus. They gave Snape a suspicious look but did not impede their passage into the room beyond.

Two muggles knelt on the floor next to a prone man. All three were covered in blood. The man with glasses was holding a packet of blood above his head, and a long tube connected it to the prone man's arm. The woman was holding a cloth to the prone man's abdomen where blood was still oozing out. Bill recognized the kneeling ones as the muggles who had escaped from Grimmauld Place several months earlier. The women's eyebrows still hadn't entirely grown back. There were three other men in the room, all of whom had a symbol on their foreheads. One large man had his symbol done in gold. Bill supposed he was the leader. He noticed that man was smeared with blood as well. Behind the muggles was a large gold plated sarcophagus, with blood smeared all over the side. He supposed Snape was right about them getting it everywhere.

"Identify yourselves," said the man with the gold symbol.

Bill guessed they'd spent a suspicious amount of time just gawking. Dumbledore stepped forward extending a hand.

"I am Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, and my companions are Healers Peebles, Urslin, and Walsh, Ms. Murdock, Mr. Bennet, Mr. Clearwater the younger, and because the occasion warrants, not one but two Mr. Weasleys, and of course Professor Snape you are already acquainted with. Now while we are going through the rest of the introductions I suggest the healers start working on this gentleman, who seems very much to need them."

Bill suppressed a smile. If Dumbledore was acting his normal kooky self again it could mean only one kind of good news was on the way. The man with the gold symbol nodded, and the healers approached the man on the floor.

Bill felt eyes on the back of his head and turned. Harry was standing on the other side of the sarcophagus, the left side of his face was bruised. He didn't have his glasses. He was wearing black and gold robes that did not suit him at all.

"Harry?" Bill asked, starting to smile.

Harry smiled back and held up his hand.

The world had become so bright he could barely stand it. He felt everything, but there was only the illusion of control. All of his will and he could only cause the faintest twitching in his own fingers. And it knew. It knew when he tried and the world get brighter. He was crushed down, bits and pieces of memory were scraped away. For hours at a time even his name was lost to him.

The only time he was sure, the only time he could really remember was when it used his magic. It had to let him up to use it. He didn't know why, but afterward it seemed to have trouble pushing him back down. He could hang around and make little mistakes, and it wouldn't know right away.

He could feel it letting up, trying to use his magic, trying to use the Imperious again. He looked out through the brightness. The Jaffa who had been guarding him was now untying him. Harry tried to make some noise, to warn the others in the room, but he was crushed down.

He heard someone call to him and remembered.

My name's Harry.

He couldn't stop it though.

Albus Dumbledore considered himself to be a very attentive person, but he was forced to admit that in this instance he had allowed himself too much slack. He had been listening to Teal'c introduce the rest of the room. He wasn't aware of the problem until he saw Bill Weasley flying across the room, robes consumed in flame.

Charlie Weasley caught him before he struck the opposite wall and a surge of water stopped him burning, but in the next instant a wall of fire was sweeping across the room. The healers stumbled backwards fumbling to bring up wards. Carter and Dr. Jackson threw themselves across O'Neill, trying to shield him despite the futility of the gesture.

Dumbledore waved his wand, muttering a counter spell to contain the flames. The fire stopped, splashing upwards, a wave hitting a sheet of glass.

He saw Harry stepping forward through the flames, untouched by them. Harry raised his right hand and Dumbledore saw the palm was swollen and infected. Harry tried to throw a blasting hex, but it fell apart in sparks of colored light. Harry tried to back peddle, but Dumbledore raised his wand once again. The charm bordered dark magic, and required a very specific twist of the wrist. Harry was lifted off his feet. His arms twisted up behind his back, and though it was not apparent to those watching, pressure was also being applied to his throat to keep him from speaking. The fires died away.

Colonel Carter and Dr. Jackson got to their feet and the rather rattled healers stepped forward again, levitating the unconscious O'Neill so they could inspect his wounds.

Dumbledore stepped slowly toward the boy who looked down his nose at him. Dumbledore looked into the eyes that should have belonged to Harry Potter but didn't. He looked in and saw nothing of the boy he knew; no trust, no compassion, no bravery or loyalty. He looked into Harry's eyes but saw no hint of his soul.

"Severus, could you lend your expertise?" he asked.

Snape sighed, but approached. He looked into the boy's eyes and his brow wrinkled. The boy's eyes suddenly flashed orange, as if a spark had lit up the inside of his head. Then his eyes rolled back and he started convulsing.

"Potter is intact, but almost entirely repressed," he said, absentmindedly rubbing his temple.

"Some good news at least," Dumbledore said.

He turned around and realized all the muggles were watching him.

"Perhaps we'd better start the introductions again," Dumbledore said. "I think I missed a few names in all the excitement."

Carter put her hand on the panel and the bridge of the Prometheus appeared around her. Walter jumped a bit in surprise, but only a bit. It wasn't the first time someone had materialized in front of him, and in this case it was only a hologram.

"I just got off the radio with General Briggs again," Walter said. "I was about to send over your new orders. Congratulations, Colonel. You get to take one giant leap for mankind."

With a faint smile the balding tech brought up a telemetry screen on his consul. Carter looked over his shoulder, unable to do anything else. The SGC had ordered them to land the Goa'uld ship a few kilometers outside the Sea of Tranquility, in the shadow of crater. Carter would have had them set down on the dark side of the moon to avoid Earth's telescopes; then again she supposed the last day and a half had given the SGC a good reason to want to keep an eye on them.

"Are you sure you don't want to come along for a moon landing?" Carter asked.

"I'll wait for the next one," Walter said. "Besides I'm in no hurry to be in close quarters with that creepy Snape guy again."

"He is kind of…unusual," Carter said, "But the people he called in are pretty friendly, if oddly dressed."

Walter shrugged. "Briggs isn't too happy about that either."

Carter nodded. "I sent him my report about half an hour ago. Is the Prometheus just going to stay in orbit of the moon then?"

"Yeah, we're supposed to make sure you don't take off without official orders from the President himself; as if we could stop you."

"Thanks Walter," she said. "I should probably get back to work on the ship. We want to be sure of hull integrity before we land."

As she raised her hand from the panel Walter turned suddenly.

"Wait! What are we supposed to do about the werewolf in the mess hall?"

"General?"

"Uhhhhhhhhhhh."

"General O'Neill? Can you hear me?"

He didn't recognize the voice; British and wavering slightly, an old man's voice.

I should probably open my eyes, he though.

"Yes you probably should."

"Said that out loud, did I?" O'Neill croaked.

"No," said the old man.

There was a burning sensation in his throat. Carefully he opened one eyelid. The lights were low so he risked opening the other one as well. The gold walls and ceiling gave away that he was still on a Goa'uld command ship. But he then realized that he was lying on a very large four poster bed, something entirely unlikely to be found aboard a Goa'uld command ship. He sat up. There was a strange tight feeling across his abdomen, as if he had pulled a muscle. He looked down and put his finger through a bullet hole in his torn and melted flight suit. It looked like someone had washed it. The blood was gone. He pulled up the black cotton fabric and was mildly surprised to find no corresponding hole in his gut. His head was a little foggy but it wasn't achingly confused the way it usually was after he'd been in a sarcophagus.

The old man was sitting in a violently green and yellow upholstered chair a few feet from the bed. He had long white hair and a beard that nearly touched the floor. He was wearing what looked like a muumuu with an equally eye gouging pink and orange theme, and a matching pointed hat. His spectacles were sliding down his long crooked nose and he pushed them back up with a finger, never once taking his eyes off O'Neill.

"Healer Peebles took care of your injuries," the old man said. "They were quite severe. She had to give you a rather large dose of blood replenishing potion. That's why your throat hurts. You've been unconscious for nearly five hours."

O'Neill looked around again. He stood up and realized his boots were gone.

The old man reached inside his muumuu and O'Neill tensed, but rather then drawing a weapon the old man fished out a small tin box.

"Lemon drop?"

O'Neill shook his head.

"Now that you are feeling better, we should probably make out way to the 'peltak' I believe it is called. There is quite a lot going on and a lot left to do."

"Yeah. Ok. Whatever."

O'Neill followed the old man out of the room and through several corridors. The cold floor under his bare feet felt too solid to be part of a hallucination. Maybe I'm not cracking up under torture. Maybe I really am wandering a Goa'uld command ship with Merlin.

"My name is Albus Dumbledore, actually," the old man called back to him.

O'Neill caught up to him a moment before the door of the peltak, aka the bridge, slid open.

Carter and a Jaffa women were picking at a melted panel, which, if O'Neill was remembering correctly, controlled the ship's navigation through hyperspace. Carter turned to look at him and grinned so wide she seemed in danger of pulling a facial muscle.

"Go to see you're up and about sir," she said.

O'Neill nodded. "Likewise."

"As much as I love happy reunions," announced Dumbledore, "I have some pressing business to attend to out side. It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance General O'Neill."

The old man gave a half bow to Carter and the Jaffa woman and then turned in a swirl of pink and orange fabric and strode off down the hall. The door closed behind him. O'Neill looked down at his own feet for a moment.

"Just so we're clear, both of you saw that very cheerful lunatic too right?"

The Jaffa woman raised an eyebrow, Carter nodded, still smiling.

"Don't worry sir, the others are much less eccentric…at least as clothing goes."

"Others?" O'Neill asked.

"Nine total sir, not counting Snape and Lupin who came up with Daniel, Siler, and Walter, or Harry of course."

"Walter? Wait, what?"

He could barely keep from humming as he altered the charms on the mirror. He had awoken that morning with the certainty that he did not have the will or strength to do it again the next morning. But now, now they had Harry back, and missing members of the Order were accounted for and no one had seen hide nor hair of the Death Eaters since attack. Dumbledore knew they had taken heavy losses in the attack. He also knew that it was too much to hope that Tom had died in the fires that had pounded Riddle Manor and the surrounding country into a scorched crater. But it would take months for them to rebuild their organization.

He sobered a bit then. The attack on the Ministry had killed nearly a hundred and fifty witches and wizards at the latest count, Minister Fudge included. And now Dumbledore had a new wizard to contend with, equally stubborn, but at least not stubbornly in denial as Fudge had been. He leaned toward the mirror and spoke.

"Rufus Scrimgeour."

The surface fogged up and then cleared revealing a shrewd face peering at him with yellowish eyes through thick spectacles. Scrimgeour's graying hair was covered in bits of rubble and dust from picking through the remains of Fudge's office. Apparently a mirror of Fudge's had survived the blast it's owner had not.

"Dumbledore?" he asked, seeming overly surprised. "Where are you? In case you hadn't noticed we have a bit of a crisis on our hands."

"Good evening to you too Minister," Dumbledore said smiling, "As to my location, I am not at liberty to disclose it at the moment, but be assured I am doing my best to ensure that the 'crisis' does not repeat itself."

"What are you going on about? What's that behind you? Are you in Egypt?"

"Egypt? No, but I believe I can see it from here."

"So you are just calling to waste my time?" Scrimgeour asked rudely.

"No," said Dumbledore with a sigh. "Seeing as how a fair amount of Ministry's remaining resources have no doubt been put into figuring out how these attacks occurred, I thought it was best to keep you apprised. The attack was not carried out by Death Eaters, as was first assumed. It was not carried out by wizards at all."

Scrimgeour blinked in surprise for a moment, and then his scowl returned. "Of course it was Wizards! Who else would be capable of such powerful magic?"

"It was not magic, Minister."

Scrimgeour let out a frustrated huff. "I really don't have time for this," he repeated, giving Dumbledore an appraising look. "If you have any other information to impart, call one of the Junior Ministers."

With that the Minister waved his wand over the mirror, severing the connection. As the image faded, Dumbledore thought he saw a pair of red eyes superimposed over the Minister's own. He blinked and they were gone. Frowning, he removed the charms from the mirror, so no one could send anything, message or other wise back through. Still frowning he walked away down the corridor, wondering is he had seen what he thought he had seen.