Disclaimer

Snape is not mine

But were it so

He would not be a murderer

And all those clothes would have to go.

Tracking down Calus

Dear Calus,

I normally don't write to these things but I'm worried and since you seem to be the only person to get to the point, I figure you are the only one I could turn to.

You see, I am a forty-year young woman and I have a teenage son who tells me everything. I mean, he told me when he had his first kiss, when he gets poor grades, there is nothing he does that is hidden from me. The thing is, he is being accused of creating illegal potions and selling them. Even, they say, using them on himself.

This is a false accusation! I know it is because my son, "Jason" would have told me if this was true and he denied all counts against him. They found some of the potions in his room but someone must have planted them. I know he's innocent but how do I prove so?

-Mum Without a Doubt

Mum,

Are you really that ignorant? Lady, I am going to tell you now that he doesn't tell you everything. Did he tell you when he got his first shag, because I guarantee he's no longer a virgin. No kid in his right mind would tell him mum he was dealing or, if he was, trafficking women. Stop the conspiracy theories, alright? Chances are, no one planted those potions there. He's guilty, whether you like it or not. I'm terribly sorry he's ruining your Stepford Wives scenario but you are just going to have to stop denying things.

Dear Calus,

I think my girlfriend is dying. She fell asleep two nights ago and won't wake up. I don't know if she is breathing or anything but she just lies there, still as a tree. What should I do?

-Worried

Worried,

Now, we both know your girlfriend isn't dying because, if she were, you'd have called the Aurors by now, not written into a news article.

No, you just wanted to be in the papers, didn't you? So you could show your little buddies that you got to write to me and I answered. Well, you got your wish. All your mates get to see me call you an insolent fool whose IQ probably isn't even in the double digits.

Do us all a favor, "Worried", and get off your lacy arse and do something with your life. Or, better yet, walk off a cliff somewhere. Then we'll all be happy.

Lola was beside herself with glee when I arrived at The Daily Prophet headquarters. Predictably, Stephen had been thrilled about the pregnancy and she went through the names she wanted for the baby. Heaven help the poor child, these are the names she thought of.

BOY

Stephen Jr.

Stephen II

Elkin Wandran

Lankige

Abarouth

Madagascar

GIRL

Lola Jr.

Lola II

Wendy

Benika

Jelingish

Donna

Let's hope for the sake of her baby's sanity that she has a girl. Donna and Wendy are a lot better than Abarouth.

I couldn't talk to her much because I had things to do—ok, well, one thing to do.

Don't think I forgot what Snape had told me between the embarrassments: Whoever this Calus was, he'd taken his nomme de plume from his middle name. And I had a mate in America who could easily help me.

Mandy,

Sorry I haven't spoken with you for a while but I need to call in a favour. If you would, if you could, please find me all the names, first, middle, and last, of any employees at The Daily Prophet. I would really appreciate it and promise to explain why when this is all over. Please send the results to:

Lucy Puckle

C/O The Daily Prophet

No. 34 Eleka Rd.

London, England 392012-7563

Again, thank you so much.

-Hermione

But while I awaited the reply, I didn't plan to just sit around doing nothing. No, I had another method, another possible lead.

Caleb.

No, I am not thick; I learnt my lesson the first time and I know he isn't Calus. But he did say something about a group trying to find Calus and the suspicions they had on him. They might know something.

This is why I sat with him in the cafeteria.

I sat my tray down and folded my arms, not giving him time to bring up Friday's event. "Listen, I need your help. You mentioned previously that you might know people privy to information regarding Calus."

"I did," he replied evenly over his sandwich.

"Do you think you could get me everything you can on him for me? I'll do anything you ask."

He sighed and set his food down. "Listen, love, nobody appears to have informed you but I don't lust after your type. I prefer…a more masculine persuasion."

First, I try to seduce a gay man. Who's next; a Catholic priest?

"I didn't mean anything sexual. I meant anything else."

"Oh. Well, then, it just so happens I got a lot today." With a flick of his wand, a stack of papers came flying out of nowhere into his outstretched hand. It doubled when he ordered, "Duplicio!"

He handed one to me. "There. Now leave me alone. That's what I want you to do in turn for my helping: go away."

Well, that was easy.

The papers didn't bring up too much that I could use. What they told me was either something I knew already or complete rubbish. There was one thing that was useful.

And that was where Calus' office was located. Apparently, one of the other Calus Hunters—or whatever they called themselves—was a mail boy who once delivered Calus' mail to him.

And the office? You guessed it; the one Snape and I had found ourselves in. I left the cafeteria to sneak down there, now beholding a map in my hands; this wasn't too difficult (I also found the loos finally).

I eyed around the corners incase anyone happened to walk by. When I was just around the corner from His office, I heard a voice accompanied by two sets of feet.

I plastered my back against the wall and tried not to breathe.

"Come on, Calus," said a male voice I clearly recognized as Mr. Dennis'. "I'll treat you to lunch." There were two simultaneous Disapparation pops and I knew they were gone.

Even so, I waited a few seconds before daring a peek. I then walked as calmly as possible and slipped into the office that was quickly becoming familiar to me.

It didn't look much differently then any other office I'd seen. It had the basic amenities—desk, chair, bookshelves.

On the desk were two stacks of papers. One was a bit disorderly with each piece containing various penmanships, all of them starting with the words, "Dear Calus". The second pile was all in the same deeply slanted, highly calligraphic handwriting…Calus' handwriting.

Away from the stacks, nearest the chair, was a single leaf of paper, next to such, a quill resting in an inkbottle. It read,

Dear Hazard,

I will never understand you types, I'm afraid. Wait, no I'm not because I don't want to understand you lot. I do believe you are the first to ever render me completely speechless. Congratulations there.

I will say that you are the largest

I knew I didn't have much time and I wasn't even sure what I was going to do with it, but I quickly pocketed the letter and escaped before anyone could catch me.

Lola looked worried when I returned to our table in the eatery. "Are you ok? First, you sit with Caleb then you run off as if your arse were on fire. Is everything alright?"

I assured her that I was and even proved so by participating in whatever dull conversation she happened to bring up, all the while thinking about the paper in my pocket and the mail awaiting me on my desk…possibly.

There was but not what I'd expected.

A plate of two slices of cheesecake sat atop my editing documents, cloaked in a preservation spell, along with a note saying only "I made them myself." In what was clearly Snape's handwriting.

Cheeky cat.

Sadly, that was all there was—sad because I still didn't have the results from Mandy. But I do love cheesecake and didn't bother stopping myself from practically inhaling the completely scrumptious pieces. Although I would never tell Snape that.

A/N: Almost done! Two more chappies to go!

The last of the horrible poetry!

This story was looked over

By two fabulous Betas

Who are patient with my pickyness

And thus should revieve awardas(awards)

R&R

Next Chappie...the return of Ginny Weasely...