Chapter Twenty

Hand in the Cookie Jar

It had been a quiet couple of months for Marv and Kittie. From Hogwarts, they had fled to Hogsmeade, where they snagged some floo powder and, after some serious arguing when Marv tried to get Kittie to walk into what she would later describe as a "towering inferno", made it to the Leaky Cauldron, where they escaped into muggle London, realizing only too late that the anti-muggle wards would prevent them from returning without assistance.

"Okay, now walk into the fire," Marv said, still trying to catch his breath and carelessly tossing a handful of floo powder into the orange flames, turning them green.

"What?" Kittie wheezed, clutching her sides.

"The flames!" he said, already feeling the store owner coming to them, protesting their use of his floo without permission. "Dammit go!"

"I don't think so!" she countered, trying to stare beadily at him. "You first, smart guy."

"NOW, KITTIE!" he exclaimed.

"It's a bloody fire!"

"It's bloody magic!" he said, realizing they were on the cusp of capture and, in a dramatic fit of aggression, grabbed her bodily by the waist, picked her up so that she shrieked in surprise, involuntarily kneeing him in the groin as he charged the fireplace, the footfalls of his pursuers now audible over the crackle of flames and the pain throbbing through his body from his pelvis. "Leaky Cauldron!" he shouted, not caring that all the patrons at Madam Puddyfoot's heard his destination.

"AAAAAHHHHHH!" Kittie screamed, feeling the heat of the flames tickle her legs and expecting the worst.

And then they were gone.

Not a day later, they had found themselves in a quiet, suburban muggle neighbourhood, aiming a lighter in the shape of a pistol at some hapless single mother with two infant children balling their eyes out in the background, desperately half-begging, half-threatening to use the lavatory. Having stocked up with a supply of food and basic toiletries, they took off, maneuvering their way to a seedier part of town where they found an abandoned warehouse to hole up in to avoid the rain and some of the rougher elements.

"Just like old days," Marv said shakily, the cold of night descending over them, he using his stolen lighter to start a small fire out of dirty blankets and cardboard debris.

"Yeah," she said, scuttling closer to him to keep the cold out.

They lapsed into silence, enjoying the momentary warmth, the crackle of the fire, their warm bodies pressed up against one another.

"We're quite a pair, aren't we?" Kittie asked, laughing nervously in the dark.

"I wouldn't have it any other way," Marv replied, turning to face her, marvelling at the softness in her eyes, the light of reflected fire in them.

"Me neither," she agreed, snuggling that much closer. Marv wrapped both his arms around her torso, pulling her tight, inviting her in, rubbing her backside to stave off the cold.

""Should have asked for a blanket," she murmured softly, the day taking its toll, she already falling asleep.

"Yeah," he agreed quietly, mentally preparing himself for the long night ahead. While Kittie fell asleep against him, Marv had no such luxury. He merely sat up, his back erect, his eyes staring off into the distance, not seeing anything, his ears catching the sounds of traffic outside, the trickle of insects, searching for any sounds of oncoming threats. We're defenseless, he thought, trying to figure out some way of protecting himself and the woman he loved, though by three in the morning, his mind effectively shut down, driving him into unconsciousness.

October 1st.

"Okay, now try and focus on your breathing and keep it steady," Marv was saying, keeping a close watch on Kittie's facial expressions to make sure that she wasn't cheating by thinking of other things. After several more breaths, he asked, "Now, tell me what you see."

"It's dark," she responded instantly, reaching out her hands as if to feel the inky blackness that shrouded her mind's eye.

"What else?"

Kittie opened her mouth to speak but then hesitated. Shortly, she said, "I see you."

"That's good," Marv said comfortingly. "Tell me how old I am."

"You're young. Maybe six or seven."

"And what am I doing?" he asked, continuing to probe.

"You're drawing lines in the snow. I think you're drawing people; little stick people, a big one and a little one and a medium sized one. Maybe they're a family."

"Anything else?" Marv asked.

"You're decapitating one of them," she replied.

"Oh," he said, wrinkling his nose. "Yeah, I remember that."

Marv's last words seemed to break her concentration, for she slumped forward and let out a long breath, opening her eyes and looking at Marv. "I'm sorry," she said finally, casting her gaze downwards.

"Why?" he responded quizzically.

"I feel so stupid, like I should be getting this, or being a lot further along or something."

"Nonsense, Kittie." Marv crossed the distance between them and held her. "It's me who should be apologizing. I probably never should have asked you to do this. Besides, you're doing brilliantly. Mastering legilimancy and occlumancy is no easy feat, whether you're gifted at it or not."

"I'm glad to be doing this," she said, latching onto his apology. "You needn't be sorry. It's quite the opposite, since you're helping me to deal with it. I can walk into a crowded room and not have my thoughts flooded by those of others. I can block them out now, that's more of a gift than anything."

Marv nodded, accepting her words at face value.

"Let's try it again."

"We've spent plenty of time this morning on developing your center. I think we should move onto developing your forward thrust."

Kittie immediately wrinkled her nose at the suggestion, well aware that Marv was the only available victim for this particular use of legilimancy. Actually, he was the only victim for all her training, but this one was particularly vicious and made her rather uneasy.

"Hit me," Marv commanded, preparing a pile of pillows behind him for when he collapsed in agony.

"I don't want to."

"Don't hold back. You know I can tell." Marv positioned himself so that he was as comfortable as possible and then proceeded to look directly into her eyes. So powerful was she that eye contact wasn't necessary at all. It just happened that he liked looking at her. Kittie took a deep breath and then, envisioning her center, pulled it back and sent it forward at high velocity, cutting deeply into the memories and thoughts that were spilling from Marv's direction. Instead of focusing on deriving content from his mind, she instead proceeded to cut a hole in his mind, creating a barren space and disorganizing all the thoughts that were threatening to intrude, many of them being redirected to feelings of panic, his mind trying to defend itself from the onslaught. After what seemed like an eternity, Kittie relented, leaning back and rubbing at her temples before crawling over to Marv, who was lying on the pillows, his whole body trembling as though he were suffering from a seizure.

That's it, she told herself. I'm not doing this to you again. We can find some other guinea pig.

Kittie didn't even bother trying to talk to him, knowing he was lost in his own thoughts, jumbled as they were, knowing that it was worse this time than it was the last, and knowing that it would take that much longer for him to come out of his stupor. All she could do was crawl next to him and hold him, rocking him gently back and forth and crooning to him as though he were a lost puppy, trying to impress upon his mind a sense of warmth and comfort and love.

Lord Voldemort liked having meticulous plans. Indeed, he had several of them, including garnering sympathy from the pureblooded elite, maneuvering the leaders of the magical community to undermine lynchpins in the protection of muggles, and, by extension muggle-borns. In truth, he didn't really mind muggle-borns at all. He himself was a half-blood and not blind to that fact. He rather respected them, having to survive in the presence of muggles for their formative years and would have been happy to recruit them if it were not for a few basic problems. First, they tended to be fond of the muggle world, often having positive experiences, unlike his own. They also tended to be poorer and less able to carry out some of his more Slytherin plans. Thirdly, the pureblooded elite loathed them, regarding them as inferior for the sole purpose of maintaining their own power base, regardless of whatever in-breeding might result from their closed door policy.

That's why a certain resurrected half-blood named Harry James Potter was giving him such trouble. On four separate occasions he tried to have the irritating child brought in for questioning, and on all four occasions his soldiers were murdered by said child. The kid was downright brutal, and, frankly, rather impressive, and Lord Voldemort wanted him. Or at least, he wanted to find out more about him. He could still remember that day back in 1981, Halloween Night, when he stormed Godric's Hollow, blowing apart James's arm with a reductor curse and then leaving him for dead as he hunted down Lily and the boy in the back gardens. Supposedly, the boy had some sort of supernatural power that was going to annihilate him, and he really couldn't have that. He had gone right up to her and told her to step aside, which she clearly wasn't going to do. That was fine by him. What the hell did he care with one less muggle-born; certainly it would make Lucius happy to see the world rid of her.

"Avada kedavra," he had said, discharging the killing curse. Instead of hitting Lily, however, the stupid child had gotten in the way and taken the curse, effectively killing him. It all seemed rather easy, truth be told. Some prophesied saviour he turned out to be.

Lord Voldemort was just ready to disapparate when Lily pulled out a muggle gun - a nine millimeter, he would eventually realize, and poured bullet after bullet into his chest. Normally, he wouldn't have cared, having insulated his body from all but the most violent of attacks, but the stupid bitch had charmed them to explode like grenades, effectively shredding his body with the force of the shrapnel exiting from all sides. A combination of an engorgement charm and a delayed explosion hex had basically disintegrated his body, leaving only a shocked head behind - a head with a giant hunk of twisted, smoking metal sticking out the crown. Bloody thing was still locked up in the Department of Mysteries, apparently. It was rather something of a joke, really. The mudblood had been terrified of telling the world she had used a muggle device to kill Lord Voldemort, fearing the wizarding backlash from all the conservative citizens who abhorred all things muggle, and had concocted some ludicrous story about love and her son's sacrifice protecting her. What a load of rubbish. Still, he wasn't terribly inclined to disabuse the world of that notion, mostly because he couldn't exactly schedule an interview with a Prophet reporter and because her story added a bit more mystique to his character.

Lord Voldemort sighed. And now the kid was back. The whole thing made him want to tear his hair out, quite frankly. It wasn't as if Harry James Potter had spent his youth uncovering and developing the arithmantic components for the horcruxes. Why the hell did he get a free pass to survive death? Was he truly immortal? Where'd he go for the last fifteen years?

And so, that was why Lord Voldemort departed his hideout to go see to the kid personally, no longer prepared to trust in his underlings. After all, if you wanted something done right, you had to do it yourself.

October 1st.

On the same day that Marv spent his last day being a guinea pig for Kittie's training as a master legilimans, Harry was sitting around Grimmauld Place eating blueberry muffins, spearing them vindictively with a fork until they turned to mush on his plate. Dumbledore and the old gang had decided that it would be best for him to remain hidden from the wizarding world for awhile, though they failed to specify just what exactly the term 'a while' meant. It was like fifth year all over again. Phooey.

Harry had taken to playing mind games with his minders. Molly Weasley was the easiest to bait, for all it took was a bit of Parseltongue and she would begin gibbering like a St. Mungo's mental patient. Hell, he didn't even need to speak Parseltongue, specifically. Just some cheesy hissing sounds would send her into fits of hysterics, often times including uncontrollable fits of convulsions. Tonks was another easy target, because of her predisposition for hating Harry, since he apparently killed some auror playboy she had been fawning after.

Remus entered the kitchen, joining Harry at the table, snagging his own blueberry muffin in the process. It felt decidedly strange being near his former professor and parents' friend. Harry had never been terribly close to the man, despite all he did for him during his third year. Any feelings he had were proxies for his feelings for his own parents and for Sirius. As such, Harry found he had very little to say to the Marauder.

""We've found a number of the horcruxes," Remus said, casually extricating blueberries with his wand and popping them into his mouth, leaving the bread mostly untouched. "Just as you had instructed."

Harry remained silent, training his focus on his food and making little swirling patterns with his fork, wandlessly levitating bits and pieces here and there to readjust them.

Remus went on as if Harry cared. "You-Know-Who doesn't have a snake in this world, so we're not really clear where the other one is."

"You've got the Huffelpuff cups?" Harry asked.

"That, the ring, the locket and the book.

"How'd you manage the book?" Harry asked.

"Went in to Malfoy Manor on a raid and extracted it."

Harry nodded, satisfied.

"You said you knew of one more."

"And I'm still not going to tell you, Remus."

"Can't blame a fellow for trying, can you Harry?"

"No, I suppose I can't. A marauder never gives up, after all."

They lapsed into silence, Harry losing himself to his own thoughts. Bono slithered around the table, clearly bored. "Harry," it hissed, drawing his attention.

"Yes, Bono?" he responded, curious as to what his familiar wanted.

"My eyes are wrong."

"What's the matter with them?" he asked, now aware that Remus was watching the pair with keen interest. Peripherally, he noticed that Molly had entered the kitchen and had promptly left upon seeing the basilisk.

"They are not my eyes."

"Ah, yes, you're right, Bono. They are indeed not your own eyes. I have transfigured them. I did it on the very first day I met you."

"Why have you done this to me?" it asked, its voice tinged with curiosity.

Harry sighed. He wasn't sure what he was going to do if the little creature wanted its own eyes back. Finally, he said, "Because it is known that a basilisk's mere gaze is lethal to all living creatures. If I permit you to have your own eyes, I and all my friends would quickly find ourselves dead. That didn't really seem like an option, quite frankly."

"I see," responded Bono, considering the problem. After a time, Harry waiting to see if the snake would accept this response, it finally said, "Harry, I want my eyes back."

Harry nodded. "I understand, Bono. But you know that means that I have to let you go, don't you?"

Bono considered this for awhile and then said, "I don't want you to let me go."

Harry pursed his lips in contemplation, wondering if the snake were being obtuse or if it were simply toying with him. "What do you propose we do, then?" Harry asked.

"Return me my eyes, Harry."

"But Bono-"

"Return them to me," Bono cut in. "I promise it won't be lethal."

Harry hesitated, leaning back in his chair and trying to keen an answer from the snake's eyes. Finally, he turned to Remus and said, "Get out."

Remus, who was not expecting this, blinked. "Excuse me?" he asked, surprised at the rudeness that Harry was displaying.

"I need to run an experiment with my familiar, and it may have lethal consequences. You'd best stay away," Harry said. "Of course, you may remain, but it may not be good for your health."

Remus nodded and stood, frowning as he contemplated Harry's words. Finally, he said, "You know, I always thought you'd grow up to be a nice person." With that, he left the room, Harry shrugging off his words with little difficulty.

"All right, Bono, Harry said, drawing his wand. "I pray you know what you're doing."

Bono nodded. "Trust me, Harry, as I have trusted you."

Harry proceeded to return Bono's eyes to him, the irises changing from brown to yellow. Harry looked down at his familiar and promptly screamed, clutching his head and falling out of his chair, squeezing his eyes shut and whimpering on the floor. Distantly, he heard Remus calling from beyond the doorway, asking if he were all right. Eventually, he managed to call out in a strangled voice. "Peachy. Don't come in."

"Harry?" Bono asked.

"Yeah," he croaked. "What is it."

"You're still alive."

"No shit." Harry felt a sudden urge to strangle the damn thing. I'm alive, he thought grimly. Yeah, big fucking woohoo. It's like I've got a party in my head and everyone's bloody invited.

"Harry?" Bono asked.

"Yeah, Bono?"

"Why are you on the floor?"

Harry decided not to dignify that with a response and instead focused on dragging himself to his feet and climbing back into his chair, intent on keeping his gaze averted from Bono's. Once he was righted and the pain had subsided, he managed to say, "I think we need to work on that particular talent of yours." Having a good idea just what talent Bono was using to inflict pain and death on his victims, Harry conjured a pair of glasses, made them feather-light, placed the chameleon transfiguration on them, affixed an impervious charm to them for good measure and then affixed them to Bono's eyes, adding a null field to them to null whatever magical energy the creature was discharging.

When Harry looked at the creature, he smiled and said in a relaxed, warm tone, "Better. Now we'll just have to work on getting you to develop your power so that you're not causing death and pain wherever you look."

Remus poked his head in through the doorway and raised an eyebrow questioningly, to which Harry merely shrugged, before going back to the merciless slaughter of his muffin.

Marv was awoken abruptly sometime in the middle of the night, the sounds of people coming nearer, things being moved about, talking, laughing, thudding and banging. Searching the darkness for the source of the intrusion, Marv saw lights approaching from the back entrance of the abandoned warehouse they had been squatting in for the last month or so. "Damn," he muttered under his breath, taking a moment to shake the fatigue from his limbs and then climbing into a sitting position. "Kittie," he whispered, shaking her to rouse her from her slumber. "Kittie, wake up."

"Mmph," she mumbled, turning over and absently swatting at his hand.

"Kittie, wake up," he said again, this time more forcefully, applying greater pressure as he shook her.

"Huh?" she said suddenly, her head snapping up, her eyes suddenly alert. "What?" she asked to the darkness.

"People are coming," Marv said. We need to clear out."

"It took a moment for Marv's words to sink into her sleep-addled brain, but once it did, she let out a long moan of sorrow and irritation, dragging herself to her knees and shaking the fatigue from her muscles much like Marv himself had done just a minute earlier. Now, she too could see the forms of people chatting about, lights casting ghostly glows about their faces as they laughed and shouted and set up boxes and other strange equipment. "What the hell?" she asked softly.

"Ravers," Marv said, keeping his gaze fixed on the several people at the far end of the hall. "Must be about two in the morning if they're coming by. Drunk and junked up on E and setting up for their friends."

"Ravers?" Kittie asked, not understanding the term.

Marv shook his head as if shrugging off a long-forgotten memory. "I'm surprised they're still around, quite frankly. Figured they would've died with the eighties."

"What are they?" Kittie too, took to watching them.

"Just kids out to have some fun."

"Oh."

After a moment, more people started to filter through the doors, and Marv and Kittie had to grab their things and retreat further into the shadows to remain hidden.

"We should probably take off," Kittie said dubiously, unsure of what exactly the correct course of action would be.

Marv shook his head. "It's not that easy. We're in a pretty bad part of town and it's a Saturday night. Pubs are letting out and there's a lot of not so nice people around."

"And I'm a girl," she finished.

"I'm hardly in a position to protect you."

Kittie nodded, turning to face Marv in the dark, straining to see his features, occluding her mind to keep from reading his thoughts. "You know," she said. "I've dealt with guys on the street before. I can sense them from quite aways if I wanted to."

"It's also miserably cold out, and there's no telling where we'll find shelter next. Unless you're prepared to take another family hostage."

Kittie scowled. While Marv had been perfectly comfortable ransacking some middle-aged chain smoker with two kids in a public housing district, she was not. The whole experience had made her distinctly uncomfortable.

As if reading her thoughts, he said. "We might even have to take a chance with some of your new skills if-"

"No!" she whispered intensely, looking almost fearful.

Marv nodded, confirming to himself that they really only had that option in extreme circumstances. For whatever reason, Kittie was not comfortable ravaging someone's mind as a means of incapacitating them, and Marv was not particularly inclined to argue with her. It seemed, all in all, rather personal.

"What if we stay here?" she asked uncertainly.

"We'll have to keep to the shadows and keep as low a profile as possible. We'll probably be seen here and there, but we may be able to find a nice corner where nobody'll bother us. You see, they're all here illegally anyway, so it's not like they're going to get all hot and bothered just because a couple of transients are mucking about. So long as we don't get in their way, we should be fine. Oh, and it's going to get real noisy, as well,."

Just then, as if on cue, the people on the other side cheered as drinks were passed around and a large stereo system came to life, the tell-tale boom of the bass causing a reverberation through the stone floor.

"Oh!" Kittie said, surprised and intrigued. "I didn't know you could get things that loud!"

"Afraid so," Marv said. "Come on." The pair hefted their belongings and, once enough people had come inside and the music had flared to life, the crazy multi-coloured movements of strobe lights casting spots of colours all over the place, they made their way stealthily to one of the unused office rooms, which, hopefully would be overlooked by the resident ravers.

"You comfortable?" Marv asked, the walls of the small room helping to blot out the sounds of music and the strange words of the DJ, who seemed to be talking in code. Marv had tucked Kittie into an especially dark space under the body of a large desk that had been left there.

"Yeah," she whispered, scooting over to one side to make room for him to lie down next to her, both of them working together to find a comfortable arrangement of limbs and backs and heads, after which point they lay silently together, trying to acclimatize to the reverb and the music and the smells of human bodies late in the night.

"Marv?" Kittie whispered. "You still there?"

"Still here," he whispered back.

Kittie remained silent for a moment, Marv wondering if she were just checking to see if he had still been awake. Then, out of the blue, her voice quiet yet still cutting through the background cacophony, she said, "Thank you."

It was a phrase that left Marv baffled, for, try as he might, he couldn't figure out just what exactly she was thanking him for, so, seeking to resolve the ambiguity, he asked, "What for?"

"For being here. For being with me."

Ah, he thought, understanding. "You needn't thank me, Kittie. It is I who am honoured to be here." He then took her cold, clammy hands in his and began to rub them with his fingers, trying to breathe warmth back into them. "You mean so much to me, Kittie. I don't know what I would do with myself if I didn't have you. I wouldn't trade spots with anybody in the world. I wouldn't leave you for a million galleons, or fame or power. I wouldn't leave you for anything."

They lapsed into silence after that, both of them trying to rest, content to live inside their own heads.

Some time later, both of them having failed to fall asleep amidst the din of music, Marv shushed Kittie by raising one finger to her lips. Kittie fell silent, her body coiling with anticipation as she saw Marv look intently forward, his head cocked as if all his senses were searching the environment. Then, before she could hear the footsteps approach, she picked up thoughts faintly flitting about somewhere in the distance; thoughts that were getting closer. Thoughts full of... lust.

Before they knew it, somebody was being pushed on top of the desk, pens and paper clips and even a stapler raining down in front of their very eyes, crashing to a halt on the floor.

"Oh, do that again," came a distinctly female voice, followed immediately by a wet, sucking sound and heavy breathing, punctuated by soft feminine moans.

Marv winced, cupping his head in his hands while Kittie stuffed her fist into her mouth to keep from giggling. Of all the places, he silently lamented, of all the stupid places... Oh, how badly he wanted to tell them to get a broom closet, his Slytherin side mentally cataloguing the list of sounds they were making and associating the various movements, just in case it would prove useful later on.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Kittie's expression of amusement had morphed into one of concern, her smile having turned into a frown. Taking care to be silent as he shifted over and saying very quietly in her ear. "What is it?"

Kittie, in turn, cupped her hands over his ear and whispered back, "She doesn't want to go any further, and he's been very accommodating."

"And that's a bad thing?" Marv asked.

Kittie shook her head. "It's a ruse. He's giving serious thought to taking her by force. Right now. He figures he can get away with it, because she's young, a little drunk, doesn't live around here, it's loud, no one'll be able to tell, even if they notice the two of them."

"Rob!" the girl exclaimed from above. "Stop that!"

Rob, apparently, did not see fit to reply with words, instead pressing his lips to hers and pinning her down in a position that kept her from struggling too hard.

"She's really pissed off," Kittie whispered.

"Should we help?" Marv asked.

Kittie shook her head. "Not yet. She's waiting for him to lift up his right arm, which she figures he'll do if he expects to get her pants off. And then she's going to... curse him?" Kittie finished that last part uncertainly, turning to face Marv's eyes with a questioning look. "What the hell good is cursing him going to do?"

But before Marv could say anything, they heard the girl say in a clear voice, "Stupefy," and the body of Rob came crashing down in front of them, his back landing awkwardly on top of the stapler. Great, Marv thought. We're caught for sure.

"Hey what's going on?" another girl entered the room. "And where's Rob?"

"On the floor," said the first girl.

"What's he doing down there?"

"Taking a nap. Bloody muggles got no clue how to court a girl."

"Mine's not so bad. Maybe you're just the type to attract losers."

"Gee, thanks."

"Gee, you're welcome."

"Given that you never get to first base with yours, it's hardly a surprise."

"What can I say? I'm here, believe it or not, to actually dance."

The first girl laughed. "Right, I forgot. You actually consider what they do out there dancing."

Kittie and Marv figured it was a recurring conversation because the second girl brushed the criticism off easily.

"Have you even had a drink tonight, Sylvie?"

The second girl, who was apparently named Sylvie, shrugged.

"I'll take that as a no. Come on, you're the one who's seriously in need of a stress reliever, with resurrected psychopathic brothers and paranoid parents and all the rest of it."

"Ugh, tell me about it. My mom sees You-Know-Who around every corner. I think I'm getting brain cancer from living in house more fortified than Azkaban."

The first girl laughed and said, "Come on, let's go fix you up with a tab. My treat."

Sylvie nodded, asking as they headed out. "You just gonna leave the muggle in there?"

"For awhile at least," came the fading response. "Remind me to get him later."

Kittie turned a questioning eye to Marv, silently asking, What the hell was that?

Marv mentally projected the image of one word in big, bold letters: WITCHES.

Comprehension dawned on Kittie's features. "I see," she whispered.

Marv then redirected her attention to their current predicament by pointing at the muggle who lay unconscious at their feet, drool slowly spilling out of the corner of his mouth, his face slack as though he were resting incredibly peacefully. "We need to get out of here, before somebody collects him."

Kittie nodded, a dozen questions on the tip of her lip. "Will he awaken on his own?"

Marv shook his head. "Not if he's a muggle. Only magic can undo the spell. That or extreme physical trauma. Often a wizard or witch's own magic will slowly wear away the curse, but if you don't have any magic to begin with, you're case is hopeless."

"And if people come looking for him," Kittie realized.

"They'll think we did it to him, and then we'll be in deep trouble."

"Unless it's those girls, in which case we're muggles and they'll either report us, which would get them in a lot of trouble, or they would attempt to obliviate us themselves. And that would be seriously bad, mainly because they probably won't know what they're doing, and we could come out of it vegetables."

"That's horrible!" she exclaimed. "They would do that?"

"Most wizards and witches don't care much about muggles. There's billions of them, as far as the average magical person is concerned, so offing one or two just seems so much less of a deal." And with that, Marv took to scrambling out of their cubby hole and rolling rapist Rob out of the way in order to clear the way for their exit. He stretched his back, which had grown cramped and extended a hand out to Kittie, who took it greedily as she dragged herself and her dirty blanket from the niche.

However, before they could make it to the door, the lights flickered to life, though not from any electrical source. No, the overhead fluorescent bulbs were hit with an illumination charm, just as Marv and Kittie were folding up their meager possessions, Sylvie and her friend, Amber, wandering back into the office, each of them holding drinks. Both of them stopped dead in their tracks, their smiles sliding off their faces as they took in the two bedraggled strangers. "Who the hell are you?" Amber asked, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.

"We're homeless bums," Marv said swiftly, cutting off Kittie before she tried to lie, Marv knowing there was no point with the way they looked and smelled. "And we were just on our way out of here." Marv took Kittie's hand and gently guided her toward the door.

"Stop," Amber said, raising her glass at them in a pointing gesture. "How much did you see?"

Marv gave Kittie a dopey looking glance, as he feigned ignorance. He turned back to Amber and said, "Don't know what you're talking about."

"The bloke," Amber said, waving her glass at the incapacitated teen on the floor at the other side of the room.

"We'd just been sleeping," Marv said, shrugging. "Heard a thump, woke up and figured we'd best depart." Marv made another move for the exit, but this time, Amber drew her wand, Marv remaining careful not to show signs of recognition. He had no clue who these girls were. They could just be muggle-borns out for a good time, or they could be purebloods, in which case they would do just about anything to cover their tracks, even assault other wizards - especially assaulting other wizards.

"Er, Amber," Sylvia said tentatively. "Do we really need to do that?"

"Do what?" Marv asked impatiently, giving only the barest of quizzical glances at the seemingly peculiar stick. The sound of the DJ could be heard asking if people wanted more, to which many cheered enthusiastically.

"Do you really want your parents finding out about this?" Amber asked, whirling around.

"They're just muggles," Sylvia responded in as quiet a tone as she could muster. "What could they do?"

"Nothing, if I hadn't cast a stunner," Amber replied through clenched teeth, her wand and eyes carefully trained on Marv in search of the slightest movement. "You know my cloaker isn't that good."

A cloaker, Marv mused. Must be a rich kid to have one of those. Definitely a pureblood.

"I suppose," Sylvia said hesitantly. "Listen, why don't you guys just split and, like, not return here anytime soon."

"Done," Kittie said, trying to sound as agreeable as possible, looking directly into Sylvia's eyes. Kittie then, in a bold move, lowered her eyes and shook her head, communicating to Marv that it was no use. They weren't going to let them go. Amber was taking no chances; not that Marv needed legilimancy to know that. He could feel the aristocracy coming off her in waves; while she seemed to tolerate muggles, she clearly thought little of them as people.

You're in deep, deep shit, he told himself, his mind scrambling for a good way to retaliate from a dodged curse. He had no doubt he could maneuver out of the way of the first one, whatever it was, and possibly the second or even the third, but he couldn't think for the life of him how he was going to disarm Amber, let alone Sylvia, who was reluctantly drawing her wand.

"I'm sorry," Sylvia seemed to say, taking a step back and forming a standard guard position. Christ, Marv thought. One of them must have an auror for parents. Worse yet, they looked as though they were executing the standard maneuver with practiced ease, like they'd taken down people before.

"What are you going to do to us?" Kittie asked in a strained voice.

"It doesn't really concern you," Amber said absently. "In a moment, you won't remember a thing anyway. It'll be all right then."

"I see," Kittie said, her voice full of sorrow. "Then I'm sorry to have to do this."

Amber either didn't hear the warning, regretful tone in Kittie's voice, or she chose to ignore it, because at that moment she raised her wand in the standard spellcasting position and began to incant, "Obliv-" However, Amber cut off in mid-speech, her wand clattering to the floor as she clutched at her forehead. She screamed in pain and took a staggering step backwards before collapsing to the ground, first falling to her knees, her eyes lolling about in her head. She coughed up mucus which dribbled out of her mouth, blood spilling down her nose as she pitched forward, her hands flattening out against the carpet to keep herself up.

"What the hell are you doing to her!" Sylvia shouted, appalled as she watched her friend wither away underneath the phenomenal onslaught of Kittie's wrath.

"Help," Amber rasped before her arms gave out and she collapsed face first into the carpet, which was soaked through with her own spit and blood.

"Fucking purebloods," Marv muttered irritably, walking over and snatching Amber's wand off the ground with expert ease.

"Sylvie, isn't it?" Marv asked, twirling the nine inch beech wood wand between his fingers.

"Who - who are you?" she asked, her wand now trembling.

"I'm curious as to what the Ministry would say about young little upstart witches cursing unsuspecting muggles. With Ministry regulated spells, no less."

"But - but you're," Sylvia's eyes narrowed as she comprehended Marv's words. With a little more bravado, she said, "You're not muggles though."

Marv smiled fully. It was a cold, dangerous smile. "Amn't I? Tell me, Sylvie, do you know the difference between intent and effect? All it matters to the Ministry is that you intended to curse muggles."

"It wasn't a curse!" she exclaimed.

"A memory charm by an unlicensed witch or wizard counts as a curse."

"You don't know who I am," she said shakily, looking between Marv and Kittie.

Marv merely glanced at Kittie who shrugged as if to say, "Why not?" and then, turning to Sylvie said, "You're Sylvia Black. Age fifteen. Huffelpuff. Hogwarts. Daughter of Sirius Orion Black and Lily Evans-" Kittie stopped in mid-sentence, her eyes widening. Just as images accompanied each of the words and thoughts that she took from Sylvia's mind, so did an image accompany the name of the girl's mother. A green-eyed woman with the most intense red hair, soft lips, medium height, and, instantly, she knew exactly who Lily Evans Potter was, memories of Harry sometimes talking about her coming to the forefront of her mind. Without realizing it, she said in a breathless voice, "Harry."

Marv snapped his head to the side and stared keenly, searchingly at Kittie. "What?" he asked finally, already fearing the answer.

Sylvia looked downright terrified. "How do you-?"

"She's Harry's sister. Her mother's Lily Potter."

Marv took a deep breath and expressed the situation in the only way he knew how. "Bloody hell."

Kittie nodded mutely.

Marv, realizing that he needed to take control of the situation, and also that an opportunity presented itself for him to get valuable information, turned to the girl and spoke in his most authoritative voice, his body adopting the commanding presence that Tom Marvolo Riddle developed as he ascended to Lordship. "Tell me everything you know about Harry."

Sylvia hardly even seemed to hear his words. She looked frightened more than anything else, clearly terrified at the prospect of suffering the same fate as her friend, or, possibly, suffering some other fate when her parents found out. She's so far out of her league, Marv mused, not even realizing that she's standing in front of a couple of destitute muggles. If she had half a brain, she would realize that there was no way we would have holed ourselves up in some muggle dump if we could perform magic.

"Are you going to hurt me?" she asked in a small voice, her posture, her words, the tone in her voice very much telling a story about a lost girl.

Before Kittie could show sympathy, however, Marv said in a firm voice. "I think it would be better for you if you laid down your wand." The command was more of a test than anything. To lay down one's wand was a sign of complete submission; moreover, it would indicate whether she could actually understand what they were saying. The last thing they needed was for her to cry herself into a state of shock.

Sylvia complied, and Marv silently breathed a sigh of relief. They were going to survive this unscathed after all, and, to top it off, they were going to secure valuable information.

"Now, tell me everything you know about Harry," Marv said.

"Why?" Sylvia replied instantly, seeming to be genuinely curious. Marv could also detect a hint of defensiveness. So she's not a sap after all, he thought. "You've met him," Marv observed, knowing that she would only be concerned about Harry if she had had personal contact with him. Seldom did anyone ever show undue loyalty to a faceless figure.

Relenting, Sylvia nodded. She then asked. "Is Amber going to be all right?"

Marv glanced at Kittie, who nodded. "She'll wake up with a headache in a couple of hours. I promise."

"All right," Sylvia said, having no choice but to believe them. "Ask away, and I'll tell you what I know."

"Like I said," Marv said, "Tell me everything about Harry."

"I don't know much," she said, appearing sincere. In all honesty, Marv cared little for what she actually said, since Kittie would just pick the thoughts out of her head anyway, but it would just make Kittie's job easier if Sylvia were made to think about him. She began, "He's accused of killing a bunch of aurors at Hogwarts and is supposedly in the service of You-Know-Who. He's also apparently cast the Imperius Curse on a bunch of people in Diagon Alley, and it's suspected that he did so in muggle London as well. That's all I know."

Marv glanced at Kittie who nodded. "That's the state of things. She's left out the fact that Harry visited the Potter home, where he had a run in with her-" Kittie made a gesture at Sylvia before continuing. "She threatened him and he expertly incapacitated her and they had a chat."

"Does she know where he took off to?"

Kittie shook her head.

"Why are you looking for him?" Sylvia asked.

"Was a girl with him?" Marv countered, not bothering to answer Sylvia's question.

Sylvia hesitated, but it did not matter, for Kittie had already extracted the information. "Yes, she is. They have Minnie. She's been living with her while they figure out what to do with her. Sylvia, apparently, is most dissatisfied with the situation, because she's feeling intruded upon. Also, Harry's arrival has caused Lily and Sirius to upgrade their protections and as such, she has been functionally grounded. She's currently AWOL."

"Hey!" Sylvia exclaimed indignantly, stamping her foot. "Get the hell out of my head!"

"Funny coming from an arrogant whelp that just moments ago was about to obliviate us," Marv said wryly.

"Yeah, well, it wouldn't have hurt or nothing!" she rebuked.

Marv just shook his head, appalled at the stupidity of the girl. "Have you ever cast the memory charm before?"

"No but Amber-"

"Have you ever stuck around to see its effects?" Marv persisted.

"Well, no, but-"

"So you have no clue whether your little friend here was just frying the minds of muggles at will, with no regard for their well being?"

Sylvia did not respond, trying to reconcile all she knew of her friend with Marv's stinging words.

Marv, however, was not interested in letting her off the hook so easily. "Do you realize just how complex a memory charm really is? There's no way she could have performed it expertly without weeks of trial. Memory charms are tantamount to the patronus charm, Sylvia. Has she ever indicated where she learned it? Who she tested it on?"

Sylvia had lowered her head and was shaking it slowly back and forth. "No, it can't be. She said she knew it. She just wouldn't."

Kittie went to Sylvia and held her gently. "I'm sorry, Sylvia," she said quietly. "I read her thoughts. She thinks very little of muggles."

Sylvia sniffed. "I don't understand. She's my friend. She's always been good to me, and to muggles. Look, we hang out with muggles all the time." Sylvia looked up at Kittie and spread her hands in the direction of the party, which was still in full swing.

"But does she actually have muggle friends?" Marv asked. "Or does she only party with them because they amuse her?"

Again, Sylvia had no response. She merely looked between Kittie and Marv, and then, as if realizing something, asked, "Are you two aurors? Was this, like, some sort of sting?"

Kittie looked at Marv questioningly, not really understanding the term auror. Marv, making a quick calculation and deciding it would be best for extricating themselves from the situation, merely nodded.

"I guess I'm in pretty big trouble," Sylvia said, sighing. "My parents are going to be furious."

Marv and Kittie exchanged a look, silently communicating to one another. Kittie turned to Sylvia, clearly having adopted the role of good cop, and said in a kind and gentle voice. "Listen, we don't think it's necessary to write this up. Clearly you've learned your lesson. I think that, with a promise from you that you don't do this again, we can maybe just let it go."

"What about Amber?"

"I think perhaps we should let her go also," Kittie said dubiously, clearly not wanting to, but not really wanting to deal with an unconscious mind-rape victim.

Marv nodded. "They're just kids after all."

Sylvia nodded. "Thank you. She and I will sit and have a long talk about this. I promise. My mom's muggle-born, after all."

"Of course, of course," Marv agreed, not really caring.

A silence fell on them and, after a minute, both Kittie and Marv realized that Sylvia was waiting for them to do something.

"Er, yes?" Marv asked.

"Aren't you going to enervate her?"

Marv internally winced, realizing that he couldn't exactly do that. "Feel free to do that yourself."

Sylvia picked up her wand from the floor, saying, "The Ministry will know if I cast a spell. I can't really do magic without getting caught."

Marv sighed. Great, he thought, shaking his head and then, in a moment of brilliant inspiration, knelt down and lifted the cloaker off Amber, throwing the small, non-descript ring at Sylvia, who caught it deftly with her seeker reflexes. "Consider it a gift. It's Amber's cloaker."

"I couldn't take it," she began.

"First of all," Marv said, having no clue whether it was true or not, but deciding the delinquent brat in front of him wouldn't really know enough to call him on it, "It's illegal for her to be in possession of it, and, frankly, I don't really trust her. So take it and tell her it was confiscated."

After some reluctance, Sylvia donned the cloaker and enervated her friend, who was dizzy, and, as predicted, sporting a killer headache. The pair left, Sylvia taking Amber away after some fuss, Marv refusing to give back the girl's wand, and instead, in another flash of insight, asking them whether they lived far away, simultaneously giving Kittie a telling nod, indicating that she should skim the information and make a note of it for use later.

So, with that, the two dejected teens left, the illumination charm still in place, making the small office look fully operational, with the exception of the still unconscious punk continuing to drool all over himself, Marv and Kittie collectively sighing in relief, before exchanging significant glances with another and then bursting into manic laughter.