Chapter 5
Calculated Risks
Ginny paced impatiently between the gate and a nearby booth. The vendor inside that booth had long ago stopped trying to sell her his improved Omnioculars (he claimed they could see through both fog and rain). She paused by the gate again and looked at her watch. The French delegation was late.
Maybe they had heard how uninteresting the match was expected to be. The Tornadoes led the league, and the Cannons were locked in a vicious battle with the Puddlemere United for last place. Of course, Puddlemere had recently lost half of its team due to a number of retiring players and an unfortunate accident involving a miscast charm and a pair of chickens.
Ginny tried to force her concentration back to the stream of people making their way through the gates and toward the stands around the pitch. Many of them were staring at her as they passed. Some were laughing. "That's his sister, isn't it?" she heard them whispering. "They're that bad, are they? They can't even get tickets for their families?"
Ginny ignored the comments and stares and searched the crowd again. There wasn't much time left. As one group passed by her, a familiar voice called out. "What's the matter, Miss? Haven't found a ticket to the match yet?" Ginny looked over her shoulder to find the source of the voice, and found the dark-bearded wizard from the Leaky Cauldron looking at her with a kindly smile. "There's an open seat in our box. I'd let you join us if you'd accompany me back to the Cauldron for a game or two of chess."
"Thank you, but I'm afraid I'm already waiting for someone," she replied with equal kindness.
"Of course you are," he replied with a smile and what sounded like pity. "Well, if they don't show up, ask the guards to send for Rupert Whitherwind, and I'll see that you get in."
Ginny turned away from him and rolled her eyes. Even more people were staring at her now. She decided to walk away from the gate. The French delegates would not Apparate there, and she was more eager than ever to find them. She walked a ways down the queue until it thinned out into emptiness. Not finding them, she turned and followed the line back toward the gate. As she approached, she saw a small clump of people who had been hidden from her sight before. Shaking her head in annoyance, she strode toward them.
"Hello. Are you the Site Selection delegates from France?" she asked as diplomatically as she could manage. A wizard who'd been speaking with the others stopped talking and turned to face her. It was Henri D'Anneau. He looked just like he had in the photo, including the slight feeling of arrogance.
"Why, yes, we are," he said with a bright smile. "We're here to meet with the Tutshill Tornados after the match, and I'm afraid that right now we are waiting for a representative from your Ministry." His smile broke for an instant to reveal a pang of distaste. "Of course, given our past dealings, it should not surprise me that they sent someone who cannot even find a Quidditch pitch in their own country. Perhaps you could keep us company while we wait like beggars at the gate?"
Ginny felt her cheeks coloring as she held out her hand to greet him. "I'm Ginevra Weasley. Cordelia Reading sent me to meet with you. I've been looking for you for some time, but I couldn't see you behind these trees."
The smile on D'Anneau's face broke for an instant, then slowly returned. "Madame Reading sent you, did she?" he said with a little laugh. The two wizards behind him smiled but said nothing. They were noticeably older, yet not as old as her father. The two witches reactions were quite different. The older witch, who looked somewhat like Madam Pince, huffed and shook her head. The other, a much younger and more attractive blonde witch, simply stared at him as if she were trying to ignore the fact that anyone else was even there.
It made Ginny feel a little awkward, as if she were the punch line to some joke they'd told before she arrived. D'Anneau noticed, and reached out to pat her shoulder sympathetically. "I'm terribly sorry," he apologized. "You must understand. We've received very little accommodation from your Ministry for reasons I simply cannot understand. I expected them to do very little to make our visit pleasant. Our last escort was an old crone who had been mostly blind since before I was born." He laughed again and motioned toward the gate. "But that was Monsieur Harrington's work. I see that Madame Reading has a much better grasp on things. Shall we enter? I'm eager to see what seats have been arranged for us."
Ginny said little more and led them to the front of the line as she'd been instructed to do. The wizards there gave her suspicious looks, but found the Ministry orders signed by Mrs. Reading to be more than convincing. Ginny led the delegates along the path to the pitch, found the tower their seats were in and began walking up the steps.
"You said your name was Weasley?" D'Anneau asked as they climbed.
"That's right," Ginny answered.
"And your brother, he is... Ronald Weasley?"
"Yes," she replied, "but this is just his second year after leaving Hogwarts, and to be honest, he doesn't get much help from the rest of his team."
D'Anneau paused, and looked back at her. "But of course! If he is your brother, then you were Potter's—" His voice cut off sharply and he turned and continued climbing the stairs.
"I'm sorry. What were you saying?" she prompted.
"Oh, pardon me," he said sincerely. "It is not a matter we should speak of, not here at least. I beg your forgiveness. I was not thinking."
Moments later the six of them filed into a private box at the top of one of the stands. Ginny begrudgingly admitted that the information Evelyn had given her would indeed be helpful. The two wizards seemed to share whatever mood D'Anneau was in, though with lesser intensity. The older witch seemed perpetually annoyed, and the younger witch silently sat and watched the world around her. Only D'Anneau seemed to address her directly. The others would only comment or react to things the two of them said.
Ginny had honestly hoped that she wouldn't be forced to speak with them much at all, but the match was going just about as everyone had expected. It wasn't the first of Ron's matches that she'd seen, but somehow it felt worse having the French delegates sitting next to her and discussing it. Ron truly wasn't bad, and he performed at least as well as he had his sixth year at Hogwarts. Still, there was only so much a team could ask of its Keeper, and the Cannons were asking quite a lot. After only a short time, the outcome was obvious. It was only a matter of time before the Tornados' Seeker would break free and capture the Snitch.
This was just as apparent to the delegates, and Ginny found them quickly losing interest. With a little encouragement, she was able to get them to speak to her. They asked her about her brother, about the other teams, and eventually about anything she'd heard about the upcoming World Cup. When D'Anneau heard she had been told very little about the problems with the site selection, he smiled at the other delegates. "I should have known!" he laughed. "She is the perfect attendant! She knows everything we might ask about Quidditch, and nothing about our business here."
Ginny attempted to protest, but he silenced her. "No, no. I meant no insult. I mean only that you have not been given any information which you would be wrong to share with us. I did not honestly expect it any other way. However, neither did I expect your Ministry to provide us with such charming and entertaining company. Perhaps the day will not be a complete loss."
"Why would it be?" Ginny asked with honest surprise. "You haven't even met with the Tornados yet."
D'Anneau and a few of his companions smiled. "You truly do not know the mess the Committee has created, do you? He paused to give her a look of pity. "Such a tangled mess into which to jump. Or to be dragged." His attention was pulled back to the match as the Cannons scored a rare goal. "The meeting with the Tornados will be as fruitless as our talks with your Minister. Both have neither the interest in the delegates' decisions nor the power to influence them. We are here only as a favor to friends."
"Which friends?" Ginny asked, hoping that her conversational tone would hide her desire to return with some new information.
Her attempts were apparently transparent. D'Anneau gave her a shrewd smile. "The Romanian delegates," he answered finally. Behind her, Ginny heard the pair of wizards whispering to each other in French. "They are filled with an unquenchable optimism," D'Anneau continued. "Though their hopes were dashed this year, they support us and believe that we may still convince others. I fear there is no one left to convince. It will not matter for them, though. Even with our support, the World Cup will not be held on their new pitch in the foreseeable future. A shame, to be certain."
Pleased that she had found a topic he was willing to talk about, Ginny ignored the annoyed looks from the elderly witch on the other side of him, and pressed him for more information. "So you've seen the new pitch, then?"
"No, none of the delegates have," he said distractedly as he watched the Tornados' Seeker zipping past their box. "Everyone has seen the photos, and the Romanians claim to have seen it, of course, but no one else. Some believe it doesn't even exist."
"Why not?"
"The very idea is preposterous," he replied as if were obvious. "Constructing a permanent pitch for a World Cup match a year in the future? No one has visited the French site or the Bulgarian site, but that is simply because there is nothing to see. The building of the Romanian site was done only to make the other delegates take them seriously. It almost worked—"
"Tarus is a fool," the old witch interrupted. "The cost of maintaining it—"
"He's no fool," D'Anneau shot back immediately. Ginny detected a hint of anger in his voice. There was something important in the expression on his face, but it disappeared an instant later. "He's is desperate, not foolish," he said in a calmer voice. "He needs aid. The World Cup would have given him that." Ginny looked about the box. The delegates were quiet, and every one of them were watching the conversation intently.
"Who is Tarus?" she asked gently, not wishing to annoy him with such a simple question.
His reaction, however, showed no annoyance at all. Instead, he seemed almost pleased she had asked. "Grigore Tarus is the Romanian Minister. He's a frightfully wise old warlock who has been forced to lead his people through very difficult times. He is said to be more wise than even the great Albus Dumbledore, though not so skilled in the use of magic. Unfortunately, wisdom alone cannot repel attacks."
The Romanian Minister. He would know what had happened to Charlie. The very thought froze Ginny's mind. He would know. In a flash, she realized that she was staring at Henri D'Anneau. His smile let her know that he had noticed, though she doubted he could have guessed what she'd been thinking. She mastered her anxiety and pressed on, hoping for still more information.
"You've met him, then? The Romanian Minister?" she asked in a voice that trembled only slightly. "Is he, er... friendly?"
D'Anneau's smile broadened. "I have met him, though I would not call him friendly," he said. "Tarus is a haunted wizard, and the world hangs heavy on his shoulders. He has led wisely, but I am told he is faced with powerful enemies. The wizards of Romania are an old breed, and it is said that he has awoken a powerful foe among them."
"The Death Eaters?" Ginny suggested.
"No, they are neither powerful nor new to him. Romania is full of disorganized bands of dark wizards. One more would barely be worth his notice," he explained. "No, there is something darker and more sinister at work."
"Was that what caused the dragon attack?" she asked, perhaps too boldly.
D'Anneau sat back in his chair and stared at Ginny. "I must apologize. I have greatly underestimated you. I had thought the Ministry sent us a hollow candy in a pretty wrapper, but behold, the sweet was filled with an intoxicating liqueur. We have turned from simple talk of Quidditch to sensitive political matters into which I have special insight." He leaned closer to her and stared into her eyes.
"You are far more clever than your position requires, Ginny Weasley. I am clever as well, and I see in your eyes the desire for more than you would ask. I can give that to you. There is much that we might... share in time. After the match, you will return to your Ministry to report all that you have heard, yes?" Ginny nodded slowly, feeling suddenly as if the world had turned on its head.
"When you leave, return to the Leaky Cauldron. You are familiar with it, are you not?" He didn't wait for a response before continuing. "We will be staying there for just one night. Come to my room and learn what I might be able to accomplish for you."
The fiery intensity behind his eyes made Ginny recoil in caution. "Why your room?" she asked reluctantly. "Why not some other place? The bar is just as private."
"Oh, it's not as private as you would hope," he replied smoothly. "There are those about who might be interested in things much more dangerous than listening to conversations or stealing wands." Ginny's body tensed immediately. He knew about the Ministry. The theft had never been reported. It had always been called an attack. If he know about that, he must know about Charlie.
He smiled wider and leaned in closer, until he was whispering in her ear. "If you desire information, I can get it for you. If you desire power, I can show you where to find it. If you desire to speak with someone, I can arrange it. If you desire revenge, I can help you get it."
Ginny could feel her heart pounding in her chest. This was what she'd been looking for. He knew what happened to Charlie. He knew more about it than she knew to ask. The only problem was the cost of his assistance. It was obvious what the price would be.
D'Anneau leaned back into his seat and flashed a friendly smile at her. "Come now, I insist. It is the least that France can do for your exceptionally warm hospitality." His voice was muffled by the rush of blood in her ears. Her head swam and she felt dizzy. He could give her everything she wanted. "There's nothing to worry about," he continued. "Sabine will be there the whole time, won't you dear?"
Ginny turned and saw the silent, blonde-haired witch staring at D'Anneau. Her expression was cold and indifferent. Then she turned to look at Ginny. Their eyes met and a moment later, Sabine's expression melted into one of embarrassment and veiled revulsion. Ginny felt the world snap back into focus around her. There must be another way. She looked back at D'Anneau, trying to hide her own disgust.
"Seven o' clock, then?" he asked cheerily. He stared at her, waiting for an answer.
Before she could answer, the crowd around the pitch erupted into thunderous applause and cheers. Ginny's head spun to the scoreboard instinctively. The Tornados had beaten the Cannons by two-hundred and eighty points. When she turned back, Henri D'Anneau was still waiting. Still watching him, she stood up and walked to one end of the box.
"That was a fine match, shall we go down to meet the team now?"
D'Anneau said nothing, but simply sat staring at her, as if he was unsure of how to take that announcement. Ginny stood stonily by the door, waiting with equal stubbornness for them to start down the stairs. The pair of wizards gave each other a surprised look, then slowly stood and made their way to the stairs. D'Anneau followed them. The elderly witch was next with a satisfied smile on her face. The blonde-witch, Sabine, was last. She said nothing and made a point to not let her eyes meet Ginny's again.
At the foot of the stairs the delegates were assembled and silently waiting for Ginny to join them. She led them to the match official, who introduced himself formally and bowed to Ginny as he led them off toward the Tornados' locker rooms. Taking advantage of her errand, she walked over to where Ron stood under the goal hoops struggling to unfasten one of his arm guards. He gave her a tired nod as she approached and started tugging harder at the last strap.
"Problems?"
"One of those saves at the start smashed the buckle," he explained. "Bloody thing won't open, but won't break properly either."
"Here, let me try," Ginny offered.
"Right, that'd be brilliant," he said as he jumped away from her. "As if the jokes aren't bad enough now, I can only imagine what it'd be like if everyone knew that I needed help from a witch to get my equipment off. If you weren't my sister, I could at least claim I was doing it to try and get your robes off."
Ginny scowled at him and pulled her wand out. A second later, the buckle ripped into four pieces with a piercing, metallic snap.
"Hey!" he shouted as the guard flopped onto the ground. "You can't just fix these with just a little wave of the wand. You better be willing to pay to repair that!"
"How about I promise not to tell Hermione about your comment about getting witches out of their robes and we'll call it even?"
Ron obviously didn't feel he really got anything out of the trade, but nodded his acceptance anyway. Whatever injuries he'd had to his head weren't nearly serious enough to convince him that it might be a good idea to let Hermione hear what he'd said. He picked up the guard and looked about the pitch for a moment before returning to Ginny.
"They sent you with D'Anneau, did they?" he asked with a frown.
"Yes," she replied. "You know him?"
"Heard of him," he said with a nod. "Why do you think they sent you to meet with him?"
"Because it's my job?" Ginny offered. Ron shot a disbelieving glance at her. She frowned. "You're right. He probably requested it."
"Feels a bit odd, doesn't it?"
"Odd?" Ginny exclaimed. "I think I could come up with better words than that."
"No, not that. Isn't it odd that they were willing to try and please him?"
Ginny stopped. "Is it?"
Ron turned around, looking quite confused. "Yes, it really is. The last time he was here, they refused to let him in the Ministry and gave him some blind old witch as a guide. The Department of Magical Games and Sports said they'd never allow him into another match. You mean you didn't know all that?"
"How could I?" Ginny responded testily. "I've only worked in the Department for a week. I didn't even know what they were delegates to until Friday!"
"You didn't— You mean you just took—" Ron rolled his eyes. "Bloody hell. Hermione was right. You don't know about any of it? About the goblins and the donations and odd requests?" Ginny shook her head and Ron dropped his. He grabbed her shoulder and pulled her over toward the center of the pitch.
"Will!" he shouted at a wizard about twenty feet away. "I'll take the chest back." The wizard nodded and Ron gestured for Ginny to pick up one end of the chest which contained the balls used for matches. "Come on, we can talk in the equipment room."
He silently guided her back to the large building which housed the locker rooms, equipment rooms and a small bar. They followed the crowd to the building and Ron waved at a pair of wizards standing in front of a large wooden door. They nodded in return and pulled the door open. Once inside the door, they set the chest down and Ron shoved it roughly into the corner.
"First the job, and now this? You have no idea what you got yourself into, do you?"
"What are you talking about?" Ginny asked. Hermione had been very clear that asking questions about Charlie would be dangerous. Perhaps wizards like Henri D'Anneau were the reason why. "If you're talking about D'Anneau, I can handle him, Ron."
"I am talking about D'Anneau, but I don't think you understand what's going on," Ron replied. "Did you know that he requested this meeting last Friday?"
"Well, he does seem to be the sort who'd keep an eye on new opportunities, doesn't he?"
Ron wasn't laughing. "He requested it Friday morning. He couldn't have known that you would be the one they hired."
"Well, it wasn't like there were many other candidates," Ginny countered. "It doesn't take much to see that."
"Yes, but how did he know that your appointment had been moved up, that it even needed to be, or that someone would be chosen that day?"
Ginny stopped and looked at Ron. It was obvious that he'd been told much more than she had. The door was heavy and it was closed tight. Ron had taken her here to speak with her. Perhaps it was time he did just that. "Alright, Ron, why don't you tell me what I'm missing."
Ron started speaking quickly, perhaps for a good reason. The guards outside would start getting suspicious if they stayed there too long. She tried to catch everything that he said and only stopped him to ask questions when she was hopelessly lost.
From what he'd heard, it had started about three weeks ago. The Site Selection Committee had been forced to delay the final vote based on a number of complaints filed by the German delegation, citing various countries which had not chosen delegates with enough knowledge of Quidditch. One of them had been Britain, despite the fact that only one of the British delegates hadn't played Quidditch competitively.
The World Cup Committee ordered Britain to hire an aide to the delegates who would not vote, but could explain the arguments to them. At the time, the Department of International Magical Cooperation had just received a budget increase to cover a new employee, so it was decided that they should seek someone with a background in Quidditch to comply with the Committee's requirements.
Only a few days later, the goblins at Gringott's posted a large donation and a complaint to the Ministry demanding that the Department of International Magical Cooperation should hire someone who would remain in Britain and accommodate international visitors. Of course, if their demands weren't met, they would withdraw their support of the league play in Britain.
Well, the Ministry couldn't have that, so the Department changed its plans and decided to send a representative from the Department of Magical Games and Sports. The next day, however, the French delegation requested that the Ministry send Mrs. Reading and an assistant to meet with the French Minister a week from today. To complicate matters further, a day later the Bulgarians requested a meeting in Britain the on the very same day as the French meeting with anyone in Ginny's Department who understood Quidditch.
The Ministry had been forced to deny both requests to avoid the appearance of favoritism. Nothing more happened until the day before Ginny's appointment. Someone had suddenly convinced the World Cup Committee to demand that the Department of International Magical Cooperation formally declare all staff who might interact with the delegates. Any staff changes would result in the disqualification of the British delegates. They had to comply by the end of that Friday.
And if that wasn't strange enough, rumors said that only hours later, the goblins walked into the Ministry itself, demanding that the wizard promised to them be hired by noon the next day. The next morning, before Ginny spoke with Harrington and Mrs. Reading, the French delegation had already scheduled its visit.
Ginny struggled to understand the meaning of all of it. It explained why her appointment had been moved up. It even explained some of Harrington's comments that morning. He'd mentioned the goblins and they seemed to be helping the Bulgarians. The Romanians would be helping the French. It also explained his mood. All those demands would be enough to harass anyone. However, there still didn't seem to be any point to all of it. It was as if the two factions had been hoping to use her position as a way to gain some advantage, but she couldn't see how she was supposed to accomplish that.
"I don't think anyone really knows what they had planned," Ron told her. "I'd have to guess that one or both of the groups of delegates thought they could secure a close ally inside the Department of International Magical Cooperation."
"I think D'Anneau was here to do just that," Ginny replied. It made sense, in a bizarre way. Both the French and the Bulgarians would have to try and thwart any advantage the other attempted to gain. Why the Department of International Magical Cooperation? What had they been trying to gain? What had she gotten herself into? "Does this mean I should expect a meeting with the Bulgarians soon?" she asked.
"It would seem to follow, wouldn't it?" Ron answered flatly.
Ginny frowned and realized she didn't have much choice. How bad could it be? The final vote was only weeks away. After that she could forget all of this.
"Come on, we should go before they lock us in," Ron said as he walked to the door.
Ginny followed him. Something was still troubling her. D'Anneau knew about Charlie. It was easy to see why he was here, but why had he brought that up? Was it just another token to bargain with? Why had he tried to use that to get to her?
Ron pushed the doors open and waited for Ginny to follow. Still deep in thought, she stepped back out into the summer afternoon. She was distracted and tense, and when the doors locked behind her with a metallic snap she jumped, letting out a short, piercing scream. Seemingly everyone in the passing crowd turned to stare at her. Some of them, including Ron, were even laughing.
Any other time, she might have tried to hide her face before it became hideously red. This time was different. She couldn't feel anything at all. She was numb, as if the world around her had gone instantly cold. Her eyes stared blankly ahead, unable to focus on anything else.
Buried in the crowd, not thirty feet away, was a wizard in dark brown robes. He was pale, with tangled black hair that hung down over his forehead. A pair of glasses obscured most of his eyes, but there was little doubt that he was looking directly back at her.
"How..." she finally gasped after realizing she'd forgotten to breathe. "Ron?"
Ron stopped and turned back to her. Upon seeing her expression, he searched the crowd for whatever it was she had spotted. A moment later, his eyes found what had captured Ginny's attention.
It wasn't the first time Ginny had seen something like this. She used to see Harry all the time. A week after he disappeared, she'd swore he'd walked into the kitchen at the Burrow and started a conversation with her. Her mother had walked in a minute later, finding Ginny talking to nothing at all. As time wore on, she saw him less and less. Crowds were still bad, though. She had avoided Diagon Alley for weeks after leaving Hogwarts. Everywhere she turned, she would see his face, and dash after him, only to find that it was only some wizard who shared only a passing resemblance. The more stress she was under, the more it would happen, and the more likely he was to simply vanish.
"Ron, can you see him?" she asked. "It's not just me, is it?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," Ron said flatly.
Ginny stepped close to Ron. He was looking at her again, but there was an odd expression on his face. "The wizard," she hissed. "The one standing by the corner?"
When she looked again, the wizard was gone. For a moment she thought it had simply been her imagination again. It had been a hard day, and she hadn't slept well that night. Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw a dark haired wizard in brown robes walking quickly against the crowd and back toward the pitch.
All thoughts of Charlie, Quidditch, her job, and Henri D'Anneau fled from her mind. It wasn't her imagination. Her fantasies never ran from her. She took a single step before stopping herself. It was probably just another black-haired wizard. Hermione was right. She couldn't go chasing every shadow that reminded her of Harry. It was no way to live. She should turn and walk away. Following him would only lead her to disappointment, and yet, she found herself already dodging between groups as she chased after him.
"Ginny! Don't do it!" Ron shouted.
Ginny ignored him. The wizard was only a little farther, but he was walking toward a large clump of spectators who were huddled together, probably trying to get autographs from one of the many international players who had been showing up at the Tornados' matches. She darted out of the crowd and ran as quickly as she could, hoping to get ahead of the wizard.
She caught one last glimpse of him as he squeezed into the crowd of people waving photos and small books at a wizard in bright green robes. Ginny recognized him as one of the Bulgarian Chasers. She circled around the knot of people, trying to spot the mop of black hair that would reveal his position, but she couldn't see it.
"Enough, enough!" the Bulgarian shouted over his fans. "I must go!"
Obediently, the crowd relaxed and spread out, slowly flowing toward the small trickle of people headed back to the gate. Ginny ran toward them, weaving among the witches and wizards as they walked back toward the gate. He had to be there, Ginny told herself. She'd seen him. He'd seen her. He was real.
As the last of them milled about on the path, Ginny collapsed onto the ground. She closed her eyes and focused on taking deep breaths. She couldn't tell if she wanted to cry or scream or just destroy something. Ron walked over to her and gently helped her to her feet.
"I'm sorry," she apologized. "I— I was so certain. I thought I saw—"
"Don't say it, Ginny," Ron snapped
She stared at her brother through narrowed eyes. "Don't say what? What was I going to say?"
"It wasn't him," Ron answered pointedly. "It was someone else."
"You saw him too!" Ginny exclaimed.
"No, Ginny, I saw someone else. It was probably the bloke who's dating the Tornados' Keeper," Ron explained, though to Ginny it didn't sound like he believed it either. "Everyone keeps making jokes about how much he looks like... Well, you saw him. It was a bit uncanny wasn't it?"
"I know what I saw Ron," Ginny replied sharply. "You know it, too."
Ron blinked as if Ginny had threatened him. "Do I, really? What exactly do I know?" he countered. "I know who it might have looked like. I know that person disappeared a year ago leaving only one explanation for what happened to him. After twelve months of searching every pub, inn, and wizarding settlement in Britain, I know that it isn't because he's just trying to avoid nosy journalists. I want him to be alive just as much as you do, but if he is, I know there must be some reason why we don't know about it." He stepped closer and stared into Ginny's eyes. "So tell me, what else do I know?"
"I can't just ignore it, Ron," Ginny replied. "I can't give up. Not yet."
"Of course you can't," he told her. "I'd expect the same of Hermione. In fact, I think she's been looking for him just as hard as either of us. However, I still know something you apparently haven't had the sense to take notice of."
"What's that, then?" Ginny asked in an annoyed tone.
"I know that those two have been following you since the moment you came down out of the stands." Ron nodded toward the path leading to the gate. A pair of wizards were standing against one of the towers wearing black cloaks with loose hoods. Now that the crowds were mostly gone, they were more conspicuous. "They followed us to the equipment room, and were waiting for us when we left. It's a little warm out for a full cloak and hood, don't you think?"
The two wizards were now looking directly at them. Trying to hide would be pointless. There was only one way off the grounds, and they knew they were standing by it. Ginny took a moment to study them. Their cloaks were black, but they didn't seem to be Death Eaters. These days they rarely attacked in the daylight. The Ministry had been something quite out of the ordinary for them. They weren't wearing the same grey cloaks as the wizards from the Ministry, but there was no reason to discount the possibility they were the same wizards.
"How do we know they don't just want to talk with us?" Ginny whispered.
"If they wanted to talk, they'd be over here, wouldn't they?" Ron hissed in response. "Whatever it is they want, you'd probably rather not find out. Come on," he said as he pulled her toward them. "They can't attack you here, not with all the wards in place. They'll wait until you pass the gate."
They joined the dwindling stream of people coming from the cheapest seats in the stands. "Hold on. Why me?" Ginny whispered as they neared the cloaked wizards. "Why won't they attack you?"
"I'm just the Keeper for the Chudley Cannons," Ron replied quietly. "You're the one who works for the Ministry. You were hired to fill a position that everyone in Europe seems to be interested in. You just spent the afternoon flirting with Henri D'Anneau, and you were the one who jumped at their bait."
He was right. Ginny cursed herself. Whoever they were, she'd done just what they expected her to do, and now their job would be much simpler. As they walked down the path, their pace gradually increased until they were slipping between groups of wizards and quickly making their way toward the gate. A quick check behind her let Ginny know that they were still being followed. As they passed the last building between them and the exit, a third cloaked wizard appeared.
Unlike the other two, he was not moving. Instead, he was simply standing in the middle of the path, waiting for them to approach. They would never get out without the three of them being right on top of them.
"When I tell you, do exactly as I say," Ron whispered. "The Apparation wards extend out to the large oak tree beyond the gate. Go back to the Ministry, but don't tell anyone what happened here. Not yet." Ginny barely had any time to respond before Ron had strode ahead of her. He turned for an instant, and growled a single word:
"Run."
Ginny hesitated, unsure of just what Ron had planned. He was making no move to lead or follow her. He didn't seem to be doing anything other than scowling at her.
"RUN!" he shouted.
Ginny closed her eyes and shot forward with all the speed she had. She was nearing the cloaked wizard, and Ron still hadn't done anything. A moment of panic struck her and she considered turning and running the other direction. Just as she broke stride, Ron's voice rang out over the crowd.
"Look! In the black cloak! It's Viktor Krum!"
The effect was nearly instantaneous. Just as Ginny passed the cloaked wizard, a throng of witches and wizards were rushing toward him. He tried pushing and shoving his way through them but it simply wasn't possible for him to keep up with her. She ducked between clumps of wizards standing and watching the mayhem behind her, and finally sprinted through the gate. Taking a moment to look behind her, she realized that the other two wizards were still running after her.
"Need a little help?" Ginny spun around to find Henri D'Anneau standing in front of her with his wand drawn. "If you come with me, I can see that you're safe," he said.
Ginny didn't respond and pushed past him. She just had to make it to the large tree. It would take only a few seconds. She checked behind her as she shoved past D'Anneau. They were at the gate and they were reaching for their wands.
Summoning every bit of strength she had, she sprinted for the tree trying to put as many wizards as she could between her and her pursuers. Her lungs were beginning to burn and she was pretty sure she'd injured her ankle, but she kept running. She was almost at the tree.
Just as she passed it, a pair of red beams shot past her. One of them struck the tree as she passed it. She instinctively ducked and lost her balance. She hit the ground hard and felt rocks cutting into her hands and arms. Searing pain shot across her cheek as a small twig slashed at her face. She twisted and forced her eyes open. They were still coming. She needed to relax and concentrate. Her mind focused on the soft sound of water as it splashed in the fountain at the entrance to the Ministry.
Ginny coughed and gasped for air when she felt the cold stone of the Ministry floor beneath her. She felt a need to stand and not draw attention to herself, but her legs weren't quite cooperating. Slowly, she struggled to her feet and began walking as quickly as she could toward the gate. As she neared it, the security wizard at the desk gave her a strange look. She reached for the cut on her cheek and realized that it was bleeding.
She didn't have time to deal with it right now. She needed to get someplace where no one could follow her. She strode through the gate and headed for the first open lift. When she got to the right floor, she walked out and headed directly for Mrs. Reading's office. To her dismay, Mr. Harrington was already there, looking more annoyed than usual.
"Good afternoon, Miss Weasley," he said stiffly. "I suppose that cut is the result of a nasty lift accident?"
"I tripped and fell at the match," Ginny replied quickly. "Someone thought they saw Viktor Krum and it caused a bit of a commotion. I tried to get away from it, but got this instead."
"A clever answer," he remarked. "Not a lie, but nowhere close to the truth. Your friends would like that, wouldn't they?"
Ginny was still recovering from the shock of her sudden escape, and was in no mood to act civil out of some form of professional duty. "You asked a question, and I answered it," she shot back. "Perhaps you could tell me how you know about it already. Is it safe to assume that my report won't be needed?"
"Enough," Mrs. Reading said. "Ferdinand, you need to leave. Ginny, take a seat." Harrington and Ginny glared at each other for a few seconds before he stalked out of the room and Ginny reluctantly took a seat. "You had an eventful first assignment, I hear," Mrs. Reading commented.
"Perhaps," Ginny answered, still a little disoriented and paranoid. "How would you know about it?"
"Harrington said an Auror came to see him. He just told me." She sounded sympathetic and almost apologetic. "He also said you spoke quite a bit with Henri D'Anneau. We can deal with the wizards who chased you later. Right now I want to know what D'Anneau is up to."
Ginny started recounting what she could remember from the matches. She spoke automatically, without putting much thought into what she was saying. Her mind was busy trying to understand what had happened that day. She finished her report and Mrs. Reading excused her and told her to go home and relax.
As Ginny left, a hundred thoughts swam about in her head. D'Anneau had told her more than he'd intended. She felt he'd been sincere about that. But he'd known about Charlie, and he knew about the thief. Why had he connected them with Quidditch? Was the dragon attack really about Quidditch? How could Voldemort's wand be connected? She tried to keep focused on those questions, but there was one that kept resurfacing.
Who had she seen?
It looked like Harry. In truth, it was more than just his appearance. There was a presence about him, some innate quality that she recognized immediately. Could someone have created a trap that elaborate? If it was a trap, what purpose would it serve? It couldn't have been D'Anneau's doing. He didn't even know who he was meeting. They didn't behave like the grey-cloaked wizards either. They were something new, something Harrington seemed to know all too much about.
Ron had been right. She really didn't have any idea what she had gotten herself into.
As she stepped through the gate and into the Entrance Hall, she felt a sudden, overwhelming anxiety sweep over her. All around her, wizards were walking about. The flurry of faces was dizzying. She scanned the room without knowing just what she was looking for. Harry? The grey-cloaked wizards? Someone in black attacking her?
Was this what Charlie had felt? Had he turned to the grey-cloaked wizards for help because he didn't know who his friends were anymore? Ginny wondered who she could turn to. She had planned to go back to the Leaky Cauldron, but now it was the last place she wanted to be. Now, with Harrington and the memory of what had occurred five weeks ago, she even questioned the safety of the Ministry. Would it be safe to go home?
She didn't know what to do. The longer she stood where she was, the more exposed and vulnerable she felt. She started walking toward a less crowded area of the hall. Once on the other side of the fountain, she searched the area again. She didn't recognize anyone. She took a moment to try and relax herself. She'd need to concentrate to Apparate out. She didn't trust the Floo. After a moment, she closed her eyes and tried to focus on the hill near the Burrow.
Just as she was about to Disapparate, a small scuffle broke out behind her. She stopped to look and found a hooded wizard shoving his way toward one of the fireplaces. Another wizard was arguing with him, but it didn't stop him. He stumbled into the flames and spun off in a flash of green flame. A second later, another wizard gave a shout and dashed to the front of another queue, jumping into the flames before an elderly witch carrying a bright pink satchel.
Had it really ended? Was she still being watched and chased now? What would be waiting for her at the Burrow? Paranoia gripped her and she spun about, expecting wizards to jump at her from all directions. She stared back at the gate, wondering if it would be safer for her to simply not leave.
Then it happened again.
It had only been an instant, but for one small moment, there had been a wizard standing by the fountain. He'd vanished the moment she'd seen him, but it had been long enough for her to recognize the black hair and dark brown robes of the wizard from the Quidditch match. He'd Disapparated.
Something was deeply wrong. It had been Harry. She was almost certain. She would have been certain before today, but nothing seemed certain to her anymore.
There was only one place where she felt she could safely go. Nowhere else felt safe, not even the hill overlooking the Burrow. It was also the only place she could go to get answers. Hermione was the only person she could trust now. She would understand what was happening, even if she refused to explain it. Ginny took a few deep breaths and concentrated as much as she could.
A second later, she felt the warmer air of the top floor flat pressing around her, she opened her eyes, but the room was completely dark. Her heart raced. The sun hadn't gone down yet. There should be light coming through the windows. Somewhere behind her, a floorboard creaked faintly. Someone else was in the room. Before she could draw her wand, a voice cut through the heavy air.
"Stupefy!"
Before she could react, a red light blazed through the darkness, and the world slipped away from her.
