Ginny sighed and collapsed onto her chair in her very messy office. She had eaten so much pizza that she felt like she was going to explode.

"There is only one thing to do at a time like this," Ginny moaned quietly. "Get to work and try to ignore my angry tummy." With another grumble Ginny grabbed the Flint folder and pulled it towards her. She opened the folder eagerly. Working on solving these cases was always the best part of her job. Searching through clues and evidence to find the culprits hideout was always such a thrill.

Ginny grabbed the top page in the portfolio and another piece of paper fluttered to the floor. Ginny sighed angrily and picked up the paper. She was just about to put it back into the folder when she saw the top line on the page. Dear Ginevra Weasley,

"What is a letter addressed to me doing inside the Flint's folder?" Ginny muttered. She quickly read through it.

"Ron! Hermione! Harry!" She screamed. "We got another letter!" All three of her co-workers came barreling into her office. She handed them the letter and smiled happily.

Dear Ginevra Weasley,

I have heard that you are searching for the Flints. They have a hideout in Paris, France. It is number 358 just next to the Eiffel Tower Park. There is a back entrance to the house one street north in an abandoned outhouse. There is no way into the house from there, only a way out. There are three Flints, but they are probably hiding with the Crabb's and the Goyle's. That means there are nine people you need to capture.

The house is entirely dark magic; therefore, I do not suggest that you sneak in unprepared. The only way to get in is to transfigure the one-eyed garden gnome into a three-eyed frog. This will nullify the curses on the front door for five minutes. The inside of the house should be curse free unless something alerts the Flints of your presence. In that case, do not step on, or touch anything green or gold. At the very end of the entrance hall there is a very large mirror. DO NOT LOOK INTO IT. If you do, you will be captured in a powerful Imperious curse. Have Potter get caught in the mirror's spell and break out of the curse. When his mind is caught the rest of you need to quickly go past. The only other dangers in the house are the occupants themselves. Unless some of the traps have been changed since my last visit to that house, everything should be exactly as I said.

Sincerely,

D

P.S. If you ever capture me I will say, Take me to the Quidditch Pitch for one last game. Hopefully you will stop and listen to what I have to say instead of throwing me into Azkaban.

"We have everything we need to know about the Flints right here in this letter!" Hermione gasped.

"I just wish I knew who was sending the letters. They are being so helpful." Ginny added.

"Time to get to work!" Ron jumped up and down. "Can we get to Paris by tonight?"

"We can get to Paris tonight, and have the whole case finished by morning tea." Hermione smiled.

"Then we can get back on the Malfoy case?" Ginny asked quietly.

"I don't know why you are so obsessed with Malfoy, Ginny, but yes. Soon we will be back on Malfoy's trail." Hermione shook her head, confused at Ginny's fixation on Malfoy.

I'm sure they would like to know what Malfoy did to me, and what his father did to me and my friends, Ginny thought, but I can't tell them. If they knew how close I used to be with Draco they'll flip. Plus, what his father did is inexcusable. We caught and convicted the father. Now we need to catch the son.

Ginny stood up to follow her co-workers out of her office to get ready for their mission.

If only I could tell someone what really happened to me that night. I told Colin, but Malfoy senior killed Colin in that raid. The three of them thought I was being crushed with the pains of being an adolescent. They didn't bother to look further. They didn't bother to check to see whom little me had been hanging out with. So when that fateful day came, they couldn't understand my feelings. When I finally capture Draco I am going to give him a big smack in the face.

The whole mission had gone like clockwork. They had apparated to the small house in Paris late that night and had found a little one-eyed garden gnome to the left of the front stoop. There weren't any extra alarms set off, and Harry had easily defeated the mirror at the end of the hallway. They had stunned the Flint's, Goyle's and Crabb's in their beds.

A small group of four Aurors were standing together whispering quietly. At their feet lay nine unconscious Death Eaters and one broom.

"Ok, someone has to fly to Azkaban to drop off the Death Eater's wands." Harry sighed. He couldn't go to Azkaban because the depressing residue the dementors left caused him to faint. Ron couldn't go because of his fear of spiders. The place was crawling with the little things. Hermione had gone to the prison last time.

"I'll go." Ginny sighed. "Its my turn anyway." She added.

"Right," Harry nodded. "Ginny you take the broom and fly to the prison. We will take them to the Ministry." He pointed a finger at the nine people on the ground. How about we meet at our bar in two days to celebrate a successful capture." Everyone agreed.

Ginny took the satchel that the wands were held in and climbed on the broom. She took off with a wave goodbye, and flew into the clouds.

The weather was horrible. Ginny couldn't fly straight. As soon as she turned her broom towards Azkaban, the wind pushed her off course. She needed to land soon or she would get hurt.

Ginny moaned as another gust of wind and freezing rain forced her broom off course again. She slowly lowered her broom through the rumbling clouds to try to land.

Thunder crashed near her. It was becoming too dangerous. Ginny dove towards the ground. She was almost there when lightning shot past her left shoulder, causing her to swerve dangerously. The broom flipped over and Ginny clung to it desperately, her fingers slipping off. She lost her grip and went plummeting towards the ground. Deafening thunder crashed as Ginny finally saw the ground below her.

"Draco!" She screamed right before her rough landing. A dieing wish from a deadly situation rang over the countryside before another blast of thunder silenced the plea.