Chapter 9

A Death in the Family

Ginny Apparated into the dark, quiet flat. As her eyes adjusted to the moonlit room, she got a bizarre feeling. It was late, but Hermione never went to sleep this early. Something was wrong. She could feel it.

"Lumos," she whispered, and the tip of her wand cast a soft light across the floor. There were no books, no scattered parchment, and no bags or satchels lying on the floor. Ginny walked to the kitchen and found a cup of tepid tea on the table next to some cold toast. The day's Daily Prophet was laying next to them, and laying casually next to it was Hermione's wand.

Something was wrong.

"Hermione!" Ginny called out. Hermione always kept her wand with her. Ginny waved her wand at one of the lamps, and it blazed to life, flooding the room with warm yellow light. Ginny started walking toward Hermione's bedroom. Almost in response, there was a muffled shriek and a series of loud thumps.

Ginny aimed her wand at the door and it flew open. A second later she slipped through the door then ducked and ran along the wall as she lit another lamp. As the room lit up, there was another more piercing shriek. Ginny stood and aimed her wand in the direction of its source.

"Ginny!" shouted a very surprised Hermione. "What are you doing? Why are you here?" She was sitting up in her bed with her covers pulled over her chest. Her hair was slightly tangled and was showing hints of the bushiness of her youth. For a moment, Ginny wondered if she'd truly been sleeping. There was still something off, though. She was a little too alert. Her eyes darted about the room nervously and her face was flushed.

Ginny kept her wand ready. "Why did you scream?"

"I screamed because I thought someone had broken into my flat."

"What were those noises after you screamed?" Ginny asked.

Hermione returned a stern look. "Ginny, I can't talk to you now. I can't talk to you tomorrow. You need to leave. This is—"

"Who else is here?" Ginny interrupted. She carefully walked toward the other side of the room where Hermione's wardrobe and closet were. "Are you alone?"

Hermione ignored her. "This is serious, Ginny. You don't know the trouble you'll cause if you stay here."

"I don't know it, do I?" Ginny laughed bitterly as she crept closer to the closet.

"Ginny, please, you have to leave," begged Hermione.

Ginny ignored her. She reached the closet door. Someone else was in the room, she could almost feel it. There had been no sound to suggest they had Disapparated, just three loud thumps. She reached for the closet door, but paused. Three sounds, she repeated to herself. like the sound of jumping into a wardrobe and closing two doors.

In one swift movement, she dove for the wardrobe and pulled both doors open. One side was completely filled with drawers and shelves while the other had robes and dresses hanging in it.

"Don't move!" she growled as she jabbed her wand into the hanging clothes. Her wand stopped abruptly as it struck something before reaching the back of the wardrobe.

"Bloody Hell!" shouted an all too familiar voice. An arm shot out of the rack of clothes and shoved her backward. She tried to keep her balance, but tripped over a pile of clothes and fell to the floor. The pain of hitting the wood floor was nothing compared to the shock of seeing her brother step out of the wardrobe with a fluffy pink towel wrapped around his waist.

"Ron?" Ginny gasped.

"That hurt!" he roared as he rubbed a small red welt on his chest. "What were you thinking, just barging in and waving your wand about?"

"Ron," Hermione complained weakly, "that was a clean towel..."

"So?" Ron shot back, "I'm disgustingly filthy now, am I? You weren't complaining a minute ago—"

"Enough, Ronald!" Hermione shouted. She closed her eyes and rubbed her head, with one hand while holding up the sheets with the other. "Why did you come here, Ginny?"

"I need to talk to you."

"Now?" Ron exclaimed. "We're busy. Come back tomorrow."

"It's urgent," Ginny said, still refusing to look at Ron. "I can't wait until tomorrow."

Hermione sighed in frustration and stared back at Ginny. "Is this about Charlie or... or anyone else we knew?"

"No," Ginny lied.

"Fine. Can we have a moment?"

"A moment?" Ron asked angrily. "How about 'Come back tomorrow'?"

Hermione frowned and shook her head. "Wait in the main room. We'll be out in a few minutes."

Ron was incensed. "A few minutes? What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means you're going to shut up and put your clothes on," Hermione replied.

A few minutes later a very harassed Hermione and an extremely grumpy Ron stepped out of Hermione's bedroom and walked into the main room of the flat. Hermione fetched her wand from the kitchen table and took a seat on her couch, leaving plenty of room for Ron. He, however, decided that the chair across the room looked more inviting. Hermione scowled at him.

"Right then," Ron said with feigned cheer, "what vitally important topic did you want to chat about tonight, Ginny? Did you see another mysterious wizard following you, or did that slime ball D'Anneau say something horribly inappropriate? If he did, I could snuff him for you, or maybe—"

"That isn't something to joke about, Ron," Ginny snapped.

"Why not?" Ron replied. "Right about now, a little humor looks to be the most enjoyment I'll be getting out of the night, so I might as well take what I can." With a threatening voice, he added, "Whatever it is you're here to talk about, it better be serious."

In response, Ginny held up her left arm and gently pulled back the sleeve of her black robes. Now that she got a good look at it, it made even her wince. There was a nasty cut along her upper forearm that had covered much of her arm down to her wrist with a dark red stain. Ron looked shocked; Hermione looked pale.

"What happened?" she asked.

"I was attacked," Ginny replied simply.

Ron stood up and walked closer. "By D'Anneau?"

"No," Ginny answered slowly. "By someone else. Quite a few of them, really. I was hoping I could talk to you about it."

"Not here," Hermione said. Her eyes were still locked on Ginny's arm and she was looking more and more pale. "Can we go to your place?"

"The Burrow?" Ron asked.

"No. Ginny's place."

Ginny waited patiently in the alley across from Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. After only a minute, Ron and Hermione popped into existence only a few feet away. Thankfully, Ron looked to be in a slightly better mood. Hermione, however, had her hair tied back again,and looked to be much worse than when Ginny had left. Her eyes were red and it seemed she was about to cry.

"I'm... I'm sorry, Ginny. I—" she started mumbling. "It's all my fault. I should have told you. I knew something like this—"

"Not here," Ginny told her. "Wait until we're inside."

Ginny didn't want to appear so cold, but she kept hearing Stefan's words in the back of her head. He'd said that they would be waiting for her. It hurt her to admit it, but she couldn't be sure she was actually talking to Ron and Hermione. If they could impersonate Harry, it wouldn't be much harder to do the same with her friends or family. As the reached the door, Ginny stood aside.

"Go on," she whispered, "I just want to make sure we're not being followed."

Hermione hesitated at the door, and Ginny's eyes flashed with sudden suspicion. Hermione's expression softened and she backed away slightly. "What's wrong, Ginny? You're not acting like yourself."

"Go in the house," Ginny commanded.

Hermione gave her a frightened look, but did as she was told. Ron followed her and as they both disappeared into the house, Ginny let out a deep sigh and felt her muscles relax. She was safe. As she stepped into the old house, she felt a dull ache spreading through her legs. She motioned for Ron and Hermione to go to the kitchen, and she followed them slowly. Once inside the kitchen they took seats at the large table and Ginny attempted to do the same.

As she walked toward the table, she felt herself lurch to the side and suddenly her legs simply gave out, sending her crashing to the floor. As Ron and Hermione pulled her back to her feet, her eyes caught the red imprint her bloody hand had left on the floor. Everything had happened so quickly. How had she gotten so tangled in this mess? She hadn't done anything. It had seemed to swallow her up.

"What happened to you?" Hermione asked as she waved her wand over the cut on Ginny's arm "Who did this?"

"It was that slime ball, D'Anneau, wasn't it?" Ron said. "I told you you shouldn't trust him. I swear, the next time I see him, I'll kill him."

Ginny let out a sharp, bitter laugh. "That's an empty threat, Ron."

Hermione leaned closer to Ginny. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"Henri D'Anneau is dead."

Hermione's jaw dropped. Ron just stared at her in confusion. "He's what?" he asked.

"They killed him," Ginny repeated in an emotionless voice. "They killed him because he was going to tell me something."

"Who killed him?" Hermione asked.

"The wizards in the grey cloaks. The Brotherhood. The guards said some Egyptian family did it, but I know the Brotherhood was involved. They were responsible."

Hermione gave Ginny a sympathetic look. "They killed him because he was going to tell you something?" Ginny nodded and Hermione leaned over to console her. "I'm sorry, Ginny. I was trying to protect both of us. I thought that if I told you it would only make it worse, but I— I didn't think it would go this far. I mean, I knew they could— but not this. All you did was try to find them?"

"I don't want to find them anymore," Ginny said forcefully. "They can keep their secrets. They're all dark wizards. I don't care who they've helped. They're corrupt and violent and evil."

"No," Hermione disagreed with just as much force. "No, they aren't all evil. You must believe me. Whatever you choose to think of them, remember that they aren't all bad."

"They attacked the Romanian Minister, Hermione!" Ginny nearly shouted. "They attacked him because he was telling me what D'Anneau was going to. I escaped, and found someone who said he'd help me find someplace safe. They killed him, Hermione. They killed him right in front of me, and then they came for me. Two of them tried to kill me, and I—" Ginny paused as her throat tightened. She looked into Hermione's eyes with numb detachment.

"I killed a wizard, Hermione. It wasn't an accident. I didn't cast the curse, but I meant him to die. I wanted him to die. Don't you see what they've made me become?" Ginny asked bitterly. "I don't care if they're just doing it for money. They're working for a new Dark Lord."

"Hold on— a Dark Lord?" Ron interrupted. "What does this have to do with you?"

"I wanted to know who killed Charlie," Ginny explained. She quickly told Ron about the Spectrecorder and the grey-cloaked wizards. "I thought the Brotherhood would help me find the wizard who killed Charlie. I was so stupid. They didn't want to be found. They weren't there to protect the wand. Their master wanted it, and they helped him get it."

"Why does anyone care about Voldemort's wand?" Ron said. "How is it any different than any other wand?"

"It's a symbol, Ron," Ginny explained. "A dark wizard holding Voldemort's wand inspires fear and loyalty."

"So why were the Death Eaters trying to stop them?"

"Because they wanted the wand for themselves," said Hermione. "We think they believe they can use the wand to resurrect Lord Voldemort."

"Is that even possible?" Ron asked.

"It doesn't really matter. It takes more than just his wand, and they'll never get all of the other ingredients. I don't think it's possible. Of course, they might still try.." her voice trailed off as if she were suddenly uncertain of herself.

"Maybe the Brotherhood simply wanted to trade the wand for something more useful," Ginny suggested. "Whatever it was, somehow Charlie found out about all of it and he came there to stop them. He didn't tell us because he knew it would only put us in danger."

"And it was just a coincidence that everyone picked the same day to show up?" Ron said. "That's a bit hard to believe, isn't it?"

"There's more I haven't told either of you," Hermione said. "Maybe I should have told you earlier. I don't know anymore. Everything is so different now," she said in a defeated tone. She looked up into Ginny's eyes. "The Death Eaters had been trying to steal the wand for months. Before that day, they had never even made it into the Ministry. Their plans were always hopeless. The Aurors had always stopped them, but that day they got past the Aurors and all the wards and they got nearly got the wand. There's no way they got that lucky."

"What if they followed these Brotherhood blokes in?" suggested Ron.

"It's possible," Hermione agreed, "but it seems more likely that they were working together —at that point, at least." Hermione continued to recount everything she hadn't told Ginny when she'd seen the Spectrecorder.

The Death Eaters hadn't broken into the Ministry by force. Ginny had guessed that already. There had been no alarms and no one had any idea of their presence. Hermione had been stunned and someone had grabbed the wand. When the Unspeakables woke her up later, there were two dead Death Eaters outside her door. It appeared as if there had been a fight between the Death Eaters and the Brotherhood right there.

"That doesn't sound right," Ron interrupted. "Why would they help the Death Eaters get in, then attack them? Why not just do it all themselves?"

"They wanted someone to blame it on," Ginny answered. "Just like the Egyptian wizards who were blamed for D'Anneau's death. They were just an excuse. They probably didn't even know the whole plan. Charlie must have found out about it from some Brotherhood wizard, maybe someone he worked with."

"Something still sounds wrong," Ron said. "Why didn't he raise the alarms? That's not going to endanger anyone, is it?"

"He must have just arrived," Ginny guessed. "He wouldn't know who to trust, so—"

"Stop," Hermione interrupted. "That's what I needed to tell you about. It's about Charlie. We know why he was there, and we know why he didn't talk to anyone."

"You knew, and you didn't tell me?" Ginny growled. "How could you—"

"How could I?" Hermione repeated sharply. "How could I keep Department of Mysteries secrets from you? It's really pretty easy when you've got the right motivation," she said bitterly. "At first it was fear of being reprimanded again after they found that I took the Spectrecorder, but it's a bit more serious now. I've been working for half wages since the night I was called away from you, and they won't even let me quit. I'm too much of a risk right now. I don't know how much longer I'll be able to afford that flat, but that's not even the worst part. If anyone finds out that I have said anything to you about Charlie or Harry or anything the Department works on, I won't have to worry about the flat at all. They'll send me straight to Azkaban."

"Azkaban!" Ron shouted. "For talking to Ginny?"

"No, for revealing secret information to the subject of an investigation."

"Someone was lying to you. If the Aurors were investigating—"

"It's not the Aurors, Ron," Hermione said, stopping him. "A pair of Unspeakables are working on it. They report directly to Reynard. And it's not just Ginny. They're watching Bill and Arthur, too. For now, they have no interest in you or the twins."

"Why am I being investigated?" Ginny croaked. "I haven't done anything! I've had enough of this! What did I do to cause all of this?"

"You're being investigated because of Charlie —because you're so interested in finding out what happened to him," Hermione told her. Before Ginny could ask, Hermione continued explaining, "Charlie didn't show up just in time to stop the thief. He was inside the Department of Mysteries at least ten minutes before anything happened, probably longer."

Ginny's thoughts raced. What could that mean? Ron had a good point. If he was there that early, he had plenty of time to raise alarms or fetch help. Tarus had said that he'd been brave to do it alone. "Maybe he didn't trust the Aurors," Ginny offered. "Maybe he was trying to figure out what they were up to."

Hermione just shook her head. "He already knew what was going to happen, Ginny. At the very least, he knew what was planned to happen." Hermione looked down and rubbed her hands together nervously. "He came and talked to me in one of the corridors."

"You talked to him right before it happened?" Ron asked incredulously.

Hermione kept her eyes on her hands. "I knew it felt odd at the time, but... Well, my job feels odd rather often, so I didn't really think about it. Charlie asked me if I was working on anything important at the moment. I knew I shouldn't tell him about the wand, so I just said that it was terribly important, but that it was a secret. He just nodded and told me that I should put it someplace safe because he needed to talk with me about something very important. He said he had something else to do, but that he'd come back to my office later."

Ron looked confused. "And you think he was going to tell you about the attack?"

"No, just hear me out," Hermione said distractedly. "On the way back to my office, my supervisor saw me and he questioned me about my progress with the wand. It probably took about ten minutes. I returned to my office and packed the wand into its case. When I turned around to take it back to the vault, I saw a hooded wizard pointing a wand at me."

Ginny's mind quickly put the pieces together. "You can't think that Charlie set it all up?"

"No, I don't," Hermione replied. "When they woke me up, the case was empty and there were signs of a battle just outside my door. They found one dead Death Eater just outside the door and another a short way down the corridor. I think Charlie was trying to protect me. I told Reynard and the others about what Charlie had said to me and that's when they started looking into what he'd been doing. Somehow, Charlie knew what was coming. He knew the Death Eaters were there. He knew what they wanted, and he knew that I had it."

"But he was trying to keep you safe," Ginny insisted.

"There must have been quite a few wizards in that hallway. Charlie was a good wizard, but he couldn't have fought them all by himself. He wasn't even there. A guard saw him leave the department shortly after the attack started." Hermione's eyes were filled with sympathy as they stared at Ginny. "He wasn't going for help. He didn't need to. He knew the... He knew the Brotherhood would protect me."

"No—" Ginny said defiantly, "—Not them. They were trying to kill me, Hermione."

"And they saved me, so where does that put us?" Hermione shot back. She slumped forward, massaging her temples. "I don't understand it either, Ginny. I don't have all the answers. How could he know that I had the wand? How could he know that I'd have it right then?"

"Wait," Ron interrupted. "You weren't supposed to have the wand, though. It was supposed to be in the vault. It would have been if you hadn't been stopped by your boss."

"The Unspeakables said the attack actually started about the time I got back to my office. A group of wizards broke into Vault Twenty-Three. That's the vault the wand is supposed to be stored in. When they didn't find it there, they came running to my office."

Ginny stared stonily at Hermione. "What are you saying, Hermione?"

"Charlie wasn't trying to stop the grey wizards. He never convinced them to help him, and he wasn't doing anything on his own. The grey wizards were in charge. They helped the Death Eaters finally break into the Ministry. They knew the wand was supposed to be in Vault Twenty-Three, and they knew it was going to be there because Charlie told them. He was working for the grey wizards, Ginny."

"No," Ginny said as she stood shakily. "You're wrong. You said you didn't know everything. The Brotherhood works for the new Dark Lord. If Charlie was working for them, why did he try and stop their master?"

Hermione stood and walked over to try and comfort her. "They searched his robes, Ginny," she explained. "They found... proof. We know he was helping them, but that doesn't mean that he had become a dark wizard. He saved my life. You're right. We don't have all the answers. I don't know why anyone behaved as they did, but you have to know that Charlie was trying to do the right thing. He was a good wizard, and he died protecting us and the Ministry."

Ginny shuffled toward the fireplace and crouched down in front of it. Her whole life seemed to be crumbling around her. She'd lost so much already, now she'd even lost her desire for justice. Charlie had been tricked as well. He couldn't have known what he was doing. She'd only wanted to see his killer punished. Was that so wrong? Was it worth the price she had to pay?

As hot tears rolled down her cheeks, she could feel the weight of the talisman against her ribs as the fire warmed it through her pocket. Whoever this new Dark Lord was, he had tricked Charlie into helping him, and killed him when he found out what he'd done. He'd made Ginny kill a man. It wouldn't be long before Hermione was thrown in Azkaban. No matter how hard she tried, they'd find some reason to do it, Ginny was certain.

"You two should go," she said flatly. "I've learned quite enough for tonight."

"There are plenty of rooms here," Hermione said softly. "We can stay here."

"Go," Ginny ordered softly. "I think I need to be alone."

"I won't leave you, Ginny. I won't let you do anything stupid."

"Ha!" Ginny barked. "What would the point be? I've done plenty of stupid things already. Why stop now? I might as well continue, if only to provide some sort of consistency in my life."

"I'm sorry, Ginny," Hermione apologized, "I can't help thinking this is all my fault. I thought I was doing the right thing. I believed you would be safer if you didn't know about Charlie and everything that had happened down there. I thought they would feel threatened if you knew. I never thought it would go this far. I was wrong. I should have told you everything. There's more I could tell you—"

"You've said enough for tonight," Ginny said, stopping her friend's frantic apology. "There's no point in sending yourself to Azkaban now." Ginny paused and rubbed her eyes. When she looked up, she saw a tear rolling down Hermione's cheek. "Don't blame yourself," she told her in a comforting voice, "you did what you were supposed to. That's exactly what they expected you to do. Nothing you could have told me could have prevented this, and nothing you can tell me now will fix it."

"Ginny—"

"Go, Hermione," Ginny persisted. "I'm not going anywhere. I just need some time, alright? The vote is tomorrow. No one expects me home until tomorrow night. That's all I'm asking for. In two days, I'll be back at the Ministry trying to explain to Harrington how I managed to destroy any hope of improving our relations with France."

Hermione nodded and whispered something to Ron. Together, the wished Ginny a peaceful night's sleep and quietly left her crouching by the fire.

She'd gotten the answers she'd asked for, though they were not at all what she wanted them to be. What was she supposed to do now? Any more searching would just put her friends and family in more danger. Was she supposed to ignore everything she learned, waiting for the day when the new Dark Lord would step into the spotlight, with her as his first target?

She would have to fight them as they had fought her. There was little for her to lose now. If she was the only one who knew about this new Dark Lord, then perhaps she could take the one thing he valued most: his secrecy.

Ginny awoke the next morning to a series of rather persistent pokes to her shoulder. Why was Kreacher waking her up this time? Only half awake, she batted the hand away viciously. "I thought I told you to stay away from me," she shouted.

"Yes, but I thought you only meant for last night."

Ginny shot out of bed and blinked against the light. Hermione was standing in front of her with a concerned-looking frown. Ginny tried to gather together enough alertness to try and make some sense of Hermione's presence.

"I, er... I thought you were Kreacher."

"Thanks," Hermione replied unenthusiastically. "You're not looking so impressive this morning either, you know."

"No... Kreacher woke me up once, when the Ministry was about to send someone to find me. I thought he was doing it again."

"No, he's busy cleaning up the mess you made of your wardrobe in the kitchen. Listen, Ginny, something has happened and we need to talk—"

Ginny held up a hand. "Hold on— he's doing what?"

Hermione was talking about something and trying to wave some parchment in front of her, but Ginny ignored her, walked out of the room and down the stairs toward the kitchen. When she burst through the door, she found Kreacher standing in front of the wardrobe she used to store spare clothes. He was hanging a small pile of robes and muttering angrily to himself.

"What did you do?" Ginny shouted at him.

"Kreacher did as he was told," he mumbled as he hung another robe. "Kreacher is still doing as he was told."

"Who told you to toss my stuff out of the wardrobe?"

Kreacher stopped and glared at her. "No one told Kreacher to touch the filthy wardrobe. It's filled with grime and foul clothes. Kreacher wouldn't dream of touching them."

"And yet there you are, touching them,"

"Kreacher would burn them all if he could," he told her with a toothy scowl, "but he promised to keep this noble house tidy. Kreacher wishes he'd been told to clean the house. Then he could have destroyed all of the nasty things. Kreacher does as he's told and so he tidies the foul traitor's things."

"Well you don't have to do it anymore," Ginny told him. "I'll finish. You can run off to wherever it is you go."

Kreacher turned his back to her and hung the last set of robes. Hermione stepped into the room and frowned as Ginny shouted, "Didn't you hear me, Kreacher? I told you to go." Kreacher just ignored her. Ginny started walking toward him, but Hermione stopped her.

"Not now, Ginny. There are more important things to waste your energy on." She forced Ginny down onto one of the benches and tossed the days Daily Prophet on the table in front of her. Ginny immediately saw what had brought Hermione to Grimmauld Place.

Across the top of the page, there was a wide photo of the intersection of the main street in Giza and the alley that led to the Romanian palace. There were craters and black scorch marks all over. In the center of the street, there were two bodies in dull colored robes. Above it, in bold letters was the headline:

Eleven Dead in Giza Attacks

Ginny grabbed it from the table and began reading.

A series of violent attacks left eleven wizards dead on the eve of the most recent Quidditch World Cup Site Selection Convention.

While many of the delegates were busy with last minute deals and debates, tragedy struck in the heart of Giza where over a hundred wizards had gathered to select the next location of the Quidditch World Cup. Officials were tight lipped about the details of the attacks, but the causes are simple enough to understand.

Sometime that evening, a group of Egyptian wizards broke into the French camp, angry over something the French Delegation's head wizard had done. A disagreement quickly escalated to an outright attack when the head wizard attempted to protect an Egyptian witch who had stumbled into the argument. Henri D'Anneau died trying to protect Hahnet Sebiti.

"That's a lie," Ginny said, pointing Hermione to the last sentence.

Other wizards in the camp heard the attack and tried to stop the attacking wizards. Sabine D'Anneau, wife of Henri D'Anneau and fellow delegate, Sophie La Pierre, another French delegate, and Gerhardt Okham, the head of the British delegation, died while trying to detain the attackers.

When Egyptian guards arrived, the attackers were already fleeing. They followed them to a side alley where another battle erupted. A number of convention wizards became surrounded by the fighting. A pair of Egyptian wizards died trying to protect them, but they were not completely successful. Lawrence MacClintock, a British wizard acting as the convention's record keeper was struck with a Killing Curse. Tiberiu Amanar and Stefan Buscan, both Romanian delegates, were killed as they tried to find shelter, and a British witch, Ginevra Weasley, an attendant to the French delegation, succumbed to multiple hexes as the attackers were overwhelmed by guards.

Ginny stopped and stared at the page in front of her, then turned to Hermione. "It's all fiction," she said as if she were afraid Hermione wouldn't believe her. "That's not how it happened."

Hermione nodded. "I think I figured that part out for myself. Keep reading."

The attacking wizards were finally cornered in an abandoned pub nearby, and imprisoned pending trial in Egypt. Only a single attacker was killed. Officials are not releasing the wizard's name, but they have said that he was acting as an attendant to the Bulgarian delegation.

The attacks have caused yet another delay in the voting for a final site of next year's Quidditch World Cup. With three of the five French delegates dead, it is unknown exactly what will be done. The French ministry has yet to comment. It is unknown whether they will be able to fill the vacant positions.

Other Ministries have already expressed deep concern over the suspected involvement of the Bulgarian delegation. Several of Bulgaria's strongest supporters are now refusing to say just how they plan to vote in the next convention. Representatives from Bulgaria insist that they had no part in the attacks and refuse to take responsibility for the actions of their attendant.

Gerhardt Okham had been a firm supporter of the Bulgarian delegation, but it was reported that he had spent much of that afternoon speaking with his delegation about his own concerns over supporting Bulgaria in the upcoming vote. The British Ministry is currently searching for a witch or wizard to take Okham's position.

The next convention has been tentatively set for two weeks from the coming Friday. It will be held in Bremen, Germany. Representatives from the German Ministry report that they can guarantee a tragedy like this will not occur again.

Ginny put the pages back down on the table and looked at Hermione. "They're covering it all up. I don't think the Bulgarians had anything to do with it."

"Even if you shouted that for the next two weeks, it wouldn't matter," Hermione replied. "The damage is done. After all the bickering between France and Bulgaria, it wouldn't take anything to convince everyone that it was Bulgaria's fault."

Ginny looked down at the Prophet again. "I didn't know she was his wife," Ginny said softly. Hermione gave her a strange look. "This witch, Sabine," Ginny explained. "I met her. She usually looked miserable. D'Anneau said they shared a room, but I just figured she was another... well, I didn't know. The whole thing feels somewhat worse. I wonder if she was killed so they could make up whatever story they wanted. You're right, no one would even believe me if I told them the truth."

"It's a bit worse than that," Hermione said slowly. "What were you planning on doing today?"

Ginny gave her a confused look. "I'm staying here. The Brotherhood will be looking for me. I don't want to have to show myself until I have to."

"Well, that sounds relaxing enough, but it's still quite a bit more active than most dead witches," Hermione said as she pointed to Ginny's name in the article. "Your father is reading this right now. So is Harrington. Are you going to let them think you're dead?"

Ginny collapsed onto the table. They'd planned this, too. The Brotherhood knew she'd lived, and they knew she'd found someplace to hide. So they told the world that she was dead, and now they'd wait for her to surface.

"I'm not going to do it," she said into the table. "I'm not going to step back into their trap. Find the twins. Tell them the truth, and have them get word to my parents. I'm going to stay here until the evening. I have an errand I need to run then. I'll be safe. Tell my parents I'll be staying with you for the next couple of weeks. They won't argue."

Ginny paced impatiently about Number Twelve Grimmauld Place the entire day. She ventured into the cellar around noon and mixed a mild sleeping potion which she hoped would put her to sleep until that night. It didn't really work as she hoped, but she had passed an hour of time making it and had gotten two good hours of sleep.

She couldn't help but wonder how the Brotherhood had gotten enough power and control that they could simply write their own version of the previous night's events. Why would they want to? Why were they so eager to find Ginny? There was only one thing that seemed to make sense.

Ginny hadn't touched it since the previous night, but she knew it was still there in her pocket: a plain golden ring on a simple chain. Is that what they wanted? Could it be the reason they were so eager to find out where she was?

There was only one person who might be able to help her. If she talked to anyone else about it, they would only become a target, but no one believed a thing Albert said anyway. No one would really care if he started babbling about a conspiracy to raise a new Dark Lord, and yet, he had known about the Brotherhood. If Ginny asked the right questions, he might answer them. She just needed to wait a while longer. Once most Ministry employees had left, the Leaky Cauldron would get busy, and loud. She'd be able to talk to Albert about whatever she wanted.

Six o' clock came, and Ginny still didn't leave. She convinced herself to wait just a little longer. Finally, after another twenty minutes of waiting, she walked out the door. Seeing no one else around, she walked across the street and Apparated to the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron.

The moment she walked into the crowded pub, she wondered if she'd made a mistake. It took only seconds for someone to see her and recognize her. The news spilled across the room, spread by pointed fingers and whispered comments. Tom was frozen in place and nearly dropped the large mug he held in his hand.

Slowly, he woke up as Ginny walked toward the bar. He slid a copy of the Daily Prophet toward her. "You, er, might want to read through that. I think you'll find it pretty interesting."

"Don't believe everything you read," Ginny replied with a casual smile. Tom smiled back and nodded. He offered her a drink, but Ginny wasn't paying attention anymore. She was scanning the bar. He wasn't here. The place where Albert always sat was occupied by a pair of laughing witches. Ginny turned back to Tom, who was still watching her as if she might be a ghost.

"Have you seen Albert?"

"Albert?" Tom replied confusedly. "Oh, him! The one the lads call Lord Albert?" Ginny nodded quickly. "He's been coming in and out all day. He asked about you this afternoon. I think he was actually a bit sad about the news. I suppose we all were, but he seemed particularly upset. Anyway, he lost his seat to those two, but he took a table in the back, there." Tom pointed into one of the dimmer corners of the room, and Ginny could faintly see the shape of a man wearing a tall hat and leaning back in his chair.

She slowly weaved her way between the tables and chairs, eventually walking up to the table where Albert was sitting. In front of him was a half-empty glass of liquid and a copy of the same Daily Prophet Hermione and Tom had showed her. He gave her a quick smile, and gestured for her to join him.

"You don't look surprised to see me," she said as she sat down.

"I don't?" he replied as if he wasn't so sure himself. With a shrug, he continued, "I guess I'm not. I figured you might be in a little later today, with the vote and all."

"Didn't you read that?" Ginny said, pointing at the article in front of him. "It says I'm dead."

Albert sat back and gave her a thoughtful look. "Well, it's not like it's the first time. I had a friend who died once. You seem to be handling it better than he did, though." Albert emptied his glass and started filling it again. "I tried to discuss it with him, but I think he was terribly embarrassed about the whole business. He never talked about it. I told him he should, but he just ignored me. We sort of grew apart as friends."

Ginny stared at him in bewilderment. After a moment, she forced herself to continue. "Albert, I'm not dead. What they wrote in that article, it's not true."

"'Course it's not!" he barked. "How could anyone believe Henri D'Anneau was trying to save some innocent witch who just happened to cross paths with him at the wrong time? A better guess would be that she stumbled from his bedchamber at a horribly inconvenient time. It's about time he paid for his crimes. Pity his wife had to pay as well. She was a fine witch."

Ginny didn't want to get distracted, but she hadn't expected that Albert had known Sabine. "Why did she marry him? Didn't she know about him?"

Albert drank another glass, and stared at Ginny with an almost mournful expression. "I imagine she did," he said. "She was as clever and powerful as she was beautiful. There were hordes of wizards who wished they could have married her. I even asked her to marry me, once. I'm pretty sure she turned me down. Hard to tell, though. My French has always been pretty bad." He shook his head and poured another glass for himself. "It wouldn't have mattered. Henri D'Anneau always gets what he wants."

"But she hated him."

"And since when does that prevent two people from marrying?" Albert retorted. "There was a time when she was his superior. In many ways, I suppose she always was. I meant there was a time when he took orders from her, but she didn't have the ambition he had. It didn't take long before he was the one in charge, and before you knew it, they were married. Terrible shame. She barely spoke after that. Well, at least she's free of that now."

For a moment they simply sat there in an uncomfortable silence. Ginny hadn't come there to talk about Sabine's death. Now that she was there, however, it wasn't as easy as she'd expected it would be. "I think I need something to drink," she announced.

Albert smiled and nodded. "Of course you do. Dying can be so tiring. You stay here, and I'll fetch you a butterbeer."

"No," Ginny called out, stopping him. "I think I'll just have some of that," she said, pointing at the bottle in his hand.

With an expression that looked to be a mixture of a smile and a frown, Albert pulled a second glass from his pocket and quickly filled it. "You didn't come here just to relax, did you?" he asked softly. "This isn't a drink for relaxing. This is a drink for business."

Ginny just nodded and gingerly picked up the glass. It felt so much heavier than it should have, almost as if her arm remembered the last time it had lifted that glass and was trying to keep her from making that mistake again. With one last burst of effort she tipped it back and swallowed.

The sensation was not remarkably different than the first time she'd drank it. She closed her eyes tightly and strained against the urge to cough or collapse onto the table in front of her. As it reached her stomach the heat spread, until her robes felt chilly against her skin. A slight fog filled her mind, but the world around her seemed to slow down. It did have a bizarrely relaxing feel. After a pair of hectic days, this slower paced world felt much more comfortable.

"I know who killed Henri D'Anneau," she whispered.

"So do I," Albert whispered back.

Ginny didn't know what to say. She'd imagined several responses to her revelation, but that hadn't been one of them. "But... how— how do you know? No one knows the Brotherhood was even there."

"The Brotherhood, eh?" Albert said with a frown. "They were the one's who did it?"

"Wait— I thought you said you knew who did it?"

"I do," Albert said. "I just didn't know how. Claiming that the Brotherhood killed Henri D'Anneau is no different than leaping off a broom and blaming your death on the ground. Henri D'Anneau jumped from his broom a long time ago. I'm frankly surprised it took him this long to hit the ground."

"Do you know why they killed him?" Ginny asked.

"There are many possible reasons," Albert told her, "but it's best if you don't go looking for them. If you start telling everyone what you know, it won't be long until this article is true."

"It's already started," Ginny whispered.

"Has it?"

"Yes," she hissed. "I spoke with... a friend. He started telling me about the Brotherhood, but we were attacked. I escaped, and when I tried to leave the city, they attacked me again. They tried to kill me."

For a second, Albert's eyes seemed to flash in anger. "They must have thought you were a problem that needed fixing. I remember the stories well enough. They've killed wizards, but never so carelessly as this," he said, holding up the Daily Prophet. "You're certain they were trying to kill you and not someone else?"

"They're following a new Dark Lord," Ginny whispered as quietly as she could.

"A Dark Lord?" Albert replied, louder than Ginny would have wanted him to.

"Yes, I escaped from him and ran back to my room. When I came out, they ambushed me. They killed one wizard and tried to kill me. I... I tricked them. It was dark. I made them attack one of their own wizards. It was the Killing Curse," Ginny told him. "It was supposed to hit me." Albert simply sat and stared at her. It was the first time Ginny could remember seeing him hold an empty glass.

"They left, but their master came from me. I took something —something he wanted." She slowly reached into her robes and pulled out the ring on the chain. She carefully placed it on the table in front of her.

"Where did you get that?" hissed Albert.

"I pulled it off the wizard I killed," Ginny explained. "The Dark Lord, he wanted it. I don't know what it is or what it does, but he wouldn't attack me while I was holding it. You've seen it before, haven't you?"

"I've seen something like it, yeah," he answered quickly. "Get rid of it! Quickly! Don't let anyone else know you've got it."

"Why does he want it?" Ginny asked as she slowly picked it up.

"How would I know?" Albert replied. "Why would you care? It doesn't matter. You must get rid of it. You have no idea what kind of danger you'll be in if they find out you've got that."

"What is it?"

"It's an omen of your death if you don't get rid of it as soon as you can," he hissed at her. "They won't stop searching for it."

"If I get rid of it, won't they assume I still have it anyway?" Ginny replied. "How will they know I don't have it?"

"They'll know, Ginny," Albert said seriously. "Please. You must not keep it."

Ginny slipped the ring back into her pocket and slowly stood up. "I suppose I should be going, then."

"Do you have someplace safe to stay tonight?" he asked her before she left. "Is there someplace secret where you can hide? If there isn't, I will purchase a room for you here."

"No, that's alright," Ginny said courteously. "I've got someplace I can go."

"The Black House?"

Ginny froze and stared at Albert. "How do you know that name?"

"You said it before," he replied innocently. "The night you left here after a little too much Firewhiskey, you mentioned it. I remember hearing about a Black Castle near Dover, but not a Black House in London."

"Oh, it's nothing famous," she told him. "It's just a house."

"I hope it's as safe as you believe it to be," he said with a frown. "Go on. Get rid of that... thing."

Ginny walked out of the pub feeling only a little dizzy. She didn't know what she'd expected to learn from Albert, but she still felt slightly disappointed. Whatever the ring was, it seemed to be important. Before she left, she ducked into a dark corner and retrieved both the ring and her wand from her pockets. She waved the wand over it as Tonks had told her, but it didn't glow at all. She tried again, and then a third time. There didn't seem to be any Tracking Charms on it. Maybe Albert was just being paranoid.

She Apparated to the alley across from Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, and walked to the house. Inside, it was dark and quiet. After checking the entire house, and finding nothing, she dropped into bed. She'd been tricked by Albert's superstition. She was certain that he was at least right about the Brotherhood wanting it back, but there was no way they could know if she'd gotten rid of it. If it was that important to them, she might be able to use it to her advantage.

She slowly drifted off to sleep, trying to push all thoughts of the next day from her mind. She'd have to talk to Harrington, but with any luck the rumors of her survival would have reached him by then.

The next morning she woke up on her own. Neither Kreacher nor Hermione were there to poke her into consciousness and tell her of some new problem she must avoid. It was still quite early, but she wanted to get to the Ministry as quickly as she could. The fewer wizards around to see her arrival the better it would be. After a quick breakfast, she left the house and Disapparated.

The Ministry was just as deserted as she'd hoped it would be. The small number of witches and wizards who were there seemed to pay little attention to her. Only the guard at the desk by the gate seemed to realize who she was, and all he did was stare at her in surprise. She jumped into a mostly empty lift and tried to attract as little attention as possible until she reached her destination.

As she walked down the short corridor to the Department of International Magical Cooperation, she felt strangely anxious. There wasn't much she could do. She knew she couldn't hide forever, but there was a certain amount of appeal to the idea. As she turned the corner, she saw Carmilla sitting quietly at her desk, scribbling notes on a large calendar.

"Good morning, Miss Weasley," she said casually as she dipped her quill in her ink well.

"Er... Hello," Ginny replied hesitantly. "Is there... er... anything I'm supposed to do?"

"Oh! Yes—of course," Carmilla answered cheerfully. "I'm sorry, I completely forgot. These schedules can get so complex that I barely pay attention to the world around me," she laughed. "You've got a meeting with Mr. Harrington and Mrs. Reading at nine to discuss your recent death."

Ginny stood there for a moment, trying to understand what was happening. After a few seconds, she decided to simply accept it and wait to see what Harrington and Mrs. Reading had to say. "Er... thanks, Carmilla," she said as she turned and walked away.

She found her cubicle looking just the way she left it. The piles of folders and loose parchment were useless to her now. Whatever was happening, she doubted she'd be working with any French wizards in the near future. If she was lucky, Evelyn hadn't come in yet, and she could drop them off without having to face her.

Carefully stacking all of them into a single column, she lifted them off her desk and began shuffling toward Evelyn's office. When she was almost there, she put the stack down on a nearby chair and inched toward the door. A quick peek told her that Evelyn's office was deserted. With a relieved smile, she returned and trudged into the room with the mountain of parchment. After setting it down on the desk, she stood up, straightened her robes and turned to leave. Evelyn Sibley was standing in the doorway.

"You're alive," she announced in the same tone one might announce the discovery of an infestation of doxies.

"So are you," Ginny said in response. "I guess that makes us even."

"Did you sort those before dropping them on my desk?"

"No," Ginny replied. "Did you?"

Evelyn smiled threateningly and slowly walked into the room. "You think you're pretty clever now, don't you? You ran off on your little assignment and even got to cheat death. Did you expect us to call you the Girl Who Lived? Are you trying to be like him, now? Do you think that we'll all start worshiping you just because you've got shiny hair and you know how to run away from battles? What a disgrace. At least he didn't run from his battles."

"You shut up about him," Ginny said through clenched teeth.

"Touched a nerve, have I?" Evelyn purred. "Have you ever wondered what happened to him? What if he didn't really die? What if he just didn't want to come back to you? Why would he want to? He could have anyone he wanted. Do you really think that no one is prettier than you are? Or did you convince yourself that he liked you for who you were? If he really loved you, why didn't he come to save you?"

Ginny glared at her. "How dare you—"

"You don't fool me," Evelyn whispered. "You can't just flip your hair and think I'll believe whatever you say. Go. Do your dance for Ferdinand and Cordelia. But you'd better watch yourself. The Ministry of Magic can be a tough place to work if you don't have the right friends, and your friends don't seem to have the best luck."

Ginny walked out of Evelyn's office filled with an impotent rage. There truly was nothing she could do. Evelyn would never be sacked. Fighting back would only make her even more angry. Ginny walked back to her cubicle. She still had another forty minutes before her meeting. She sat down and stared blankly at her desk.

Why hadn't Harry come to help her yet? If he was alive, why hadn't he even tried to contact her? Ginny fell forward and tried to think of anything else. Maybe he really was gone. Maybe he had lived, but he'd simply left. Maybe she was silly to think that he wouldn't want to live without her.

For forty minutes, she sat and tried to think of anything else. That's exactly what Evelyn wanted, she told herself. She should be thinking about what she was going to say to Harrington, but her mind wouldn't obey. When Mrs. Reading finally arrived, Ginny scolded herself for being so completely unprepared.

She walked into Harrington's office expecting the worst. She'd fled from her job, She hadn't told him anything. At the very best, she expected to be yelled at for quite some time. Instead, Harrington seemed to be restraining his anger almost completely.

"Good morning, Ginny," he said casually. "I hope you know just how pleased I am to see you here this morning. We were quite worried about you. The initial reports from Giza... were not good. When I saw yesterday's article, we began to fear the worst, but last night I got an owl saying that you were at the Leaky Cauldron. Where were you until then? You weren't in Giza all that time, were you?"

Ginny looked down at her feet. She didn't want to lie to him now. This was the first time he'd ever treated her with respect. "I... I was hiding someplace safe. It's here in England. It's not far away."

"Good, good," Harrington said with a nod. "Normally we'd ask that you report such events to the Ministry immediately, but under the circumstances I think you were well justified. I've been speaking with Reynard, and from what I was able to figure out, it seems there was more to the attacks than the Daily Prophet reported. Is that true?"

Ginny nodded.

"Would you be willing to tell us what really happened?"

Ginny looked at the two of them. "I'd really rather not," she said.

"As the head of this department, I could order you to," Harrington told her in a very official tone.

"It's not that," Ginny replied. "Everyone I talked to about this —everyone of any importance— they were all attacked. "I don't think it would be wise to tell you what I told them."

Ginny expected Harrington to bristle at this comment, but instead he appeared to accept it. "Perhaps you're right," he told her. "The Department of Mysteries may still wish to speak with you. They have wizards who care less about their safety than I do. And while I will trust your judgment in this matter, you should trust my judgement that it is unwise for you to be the only one who knows just what happened down there.

"You're playing a dangerous game, Miss Weasley," he said gravely. "I hope that you know what you're doing, and I hope you're paying attention to what's happening around you. You won't always get what you want. Sooner or later, you'll run into someone who's got more power or more luck than you, and you may not like the result. Henri D'Anneau thought he could get anything he wished, and look where it got him."

"I'm nothing like D'Anneau," Ginny responded.

"Maybe not, but you're walking down the same path. Some wizards work for years before they get the opportunities you have. That alone will make you enemies. The more noise you make on your way up, the more wizards there are who will work to keep you down, and you have been making quite a bit of noise recently."

Harrington paused to see if Ginny would react. When she didn't, he leaned forward and continued. "You've been extremely lucky lately. Luckier than anyone else I've seen in your position," he said in a low voice. "I've never believed in luck. In my opinion, it's simply a combination of drive and patience. So, the question is, what exactly are you trying to achieve, Miss Weasley? What is it that you're trying to get? Money? Fame? A better office?"

"I don't want anything," Ginny told him. "All I ever wanted was a job. I didn't ask for any of this to happen to me."

Harrington threw a frustrated glance at Mrs. Reading. "Fine, then. It looks as if today is going to be a very busy day. I have an appointment with the Minister, but I'll need you to answer a few more questions before I leave."

Ginny gave Mrs. Reading a questioning look and she replied with a smile and a faint nod. Ginny nodded to Harrington.

"The tragic death of Gerhardt Okham has left a vacancy in the British delegation to the upcoming World Cup Convention. Despite my objections, the Department of Magical Games and the other delegates themselves are requesting that you fill that position. Naturally you would not be the head of the delegation, but that does not mean it will be easy work. Would you accept this position if it were offered to you? Think carefully, Miss Weasley, and remember what I told you."

Ginny thought for a moment. Why did it sound like Harrington thought she had somehow planned this? Did he think that she had some part in Okham's death? She'd never do that. She couldn't even imagine how she might have accomplished such a thing.

She considered turning it down just to prove that Harrington was wrong about her. The thought of being attacked again didn't really appeal to her either, but she didn't like the idea of simply sitting where she was and waiting for the Brotherhood to attack her. A second thought crept into her mind. Tarus had suggested that he'd come to the last convention because she was going to be there. If she was one of the British delegates, would he return? Wouldn't she but putting them both in danger?

Of course she would, but that didn't matter. They were already in danger. Tarus would come if he felt he needed to, and if he did, Ginny would find a way to continue their conversation. With a feeling of grim determination, she looked back at Harrington.

"Yes, I'll do it," she answered with cold determination. "I mean, I would do it, if it was offered to me," she corrected.

Harrington shook his head and sighed. "Of course you would. Do you believe you could be adequately prepared for the next convention in just two weeks?"

"Yes, I think so," Ginny answered.

"Then you've got a meeting to go to. They're already waiting for you in the Department of Magical Games and Sports."


Author's Note:

Since so many people wrote in to beg for another chapter, I actually remembered to post this. I had forgotten, so if anyone else is out there reading, they can thank kate, sara, fari and gohan8k for this chapter. I would have forgotten about it without them.

Chapter 10 was supposed to be a load of fun, but then I cut Chapter 9 in half, so the old Chapter 10 is now Chapter 11. So Chapter 11 is going to be a load of fun and Chapter 10 is going to be more information and a little bit of suspense and intrigue.

You know... just something to look forward to.

Of course, if any of you would actually email me your comments (or begging), you'd get a more prompt response. The last person to do that got a load of teasers for the upcoming chapters. I like hearing what everyone is thinking and guessing. It actually makes it easier to write the chapters. So, if you help me out, I do my best to reward you. Still... there's no obligation. I'll write the chapters whether you do or not, so don't worry about me abandoning this because no one is coming out to play with me.

If you need or want proof that I can finish a story, check out the previous monster I wrote (320,000 words). On second thought, don't check it out. It's depressing and written in a different tone and for a different purpose than this story. Just take my word for it. The story will be completed.