It had been a month since Sharlen began her training with the Aurors; every muscle in her body ached piteously, and she had easily run more in that one month than in the rest of her life combined. The character and aptitude tests she had to pass were as rigorous as the physical trials, and she did well with intimidation and interrogation thanks to her experiences with Occlumency and her steadfast resolve to hold her position and be useful, in any obscure way, to Harry. The first part of her training she had to work to accomplish was Patronuses; she couldn't explain to her colleagues that Dementors had never seemed to affect her the way they did others, and either way she figured they would be more likely to affect her badly now that she had formed more memories of her own, good and bad.

It took her two weeks to find an effective, happy memory—nothing involving Harry worked for her, too torn up about how they ended to see past to when things were good. Once she firmly settled on the letter Mrs. Weasley had sent her along with the Weasley sweater for her first Christmas, she was able to finally produce a corporeal Patronus, and was startled to see it was a stag. She'd stared at its ghostly blue form as it walked closer, completely bewildered. Was she imagining it? She'd never seen Harry produce one, but it was well known that his Patronus was a stag. She'd rubbed her eyes several times but it didn't change and it didn't waver. She fell to her knees before it and wondered what he'd think if he were to see it.

Upon seeing that Sharlen's Patronus was the same as Harry's, Tonks's suspicion of her dissolved completely. She went from brooding hawk-like from the sidelines of her training to actively participating and guiding, especially where disguises were involved, something Sharlen had no skill for and Tonks could achieve effortlessly.

Beyond being nearly inept at self-Transfigurations and disguises, the only thing she had failed at had been coming up against a boggart in training. A simulation had her in battle with a handful of assailants as she tried to protect the Minister, when suddenly a dead Harry Potter lay before her path. She fell before it, sobbing. The other Aurors, extremely uncomfortable seeing the image as well, reassured her it was only a boggart and took care of it for her. Tonks had been the one to escort her from the room.

When Sharlen had gathered herself, seated in Tonks's chair in the main office, she looked up at the Metamorphmagus with mounting curiosity. "You've been kinder," she said stupidly, not sure how to ask what she wanted to.

Tonks laughed a little, looking at the ground. "I'm glad to hear it."

"I just, if I could ask, what made you change your mind about me?" Sharlen asked, standing to join her. "I understood why you didn't trust me. I understand."

"Your Patronus," Tonks said with a wink. Sharlen tilted her head in concern. "My Patronus changed when I fell in love. Now I'm sure of what side you're on." Her comfort from Tonks's approval was short lived and rapidly replaced with fear that anyone on the dark side would see it and know the same thing.

Having sustained herself on what she could catch as an owl going out hunting with Piotr when she wasn't at the Ministry, she was getting better at ignoring hunger; even at its worst it was nothing compared to how incomplete she felt losing Harry again. Sometimes, in the middle of running dodging drills or while standing sentry at one of Scrimgeour's meetings, a vibrant sensory memory would be called out of nowhere, brought on by stimuli so minute she couldn't nail it down, and she would find herself in tears, almost able to feel Harry beneath her as they lay curled up on a couch in Gryffindor Common Room or see him setting aside his glasses on the nightstand, eyes lidded with lazy happiness, when they were alone together in his bed.

Nights were the worst, when she was back in that twin bed in Oxford, alone, Snape somewhere in the house or off running business with the Death Eaters while she stared at the empty pages of the black book and willed them senselessly to produce words. Anything at all would do, even something hateful—at least she would have been on his mind. She poured over Harry's three letters she kept stored in the back pocket of her black book, clutching them close to her face in bed, pouring over every word as though she could desperately keep wringing new meaning from them.

Beneath the weight of the sadness was an emptiness so fast it nearly choked her to be left alone with it; she pushed harder and harder in her training, wanting to do anything at all useful to somebody, just so she wouldn't have to think about what she'd lost. She thought it might have been easier to withstand if she didn't know the truth of what Harry felt for her in what she saw of his aura.

Surveillance on the Harrow house had ended. It was given up as a dead end, the Aurors assuming Snape knew she would have gone back there and told the Ministry about the house. Snape had all but stopped asking where she was disappearing to before dawn and returning from in the late evenings. Her father only ever visited maybe once a week, for short periods of time, and always nearing midnight.

When Sharlen made it back home from the Ministry that day, she had barely managed to store her Ministry Intern badge in her pouch before Snape stood and slammed the door closed behind her. "You're coming with me," he muttered, retrieving his wand off the table. Sharlen froze.

"Am I?"

"Your father is holding a meeting," he answered shortly, taking her arm. He hit the top of her head with his wand and she felt as if he'd broken an egg against her skull, the yolk slipping wet and cold down her scalp to her shoulders. She looked down as her body disappeared; she was invisible. Snape pulled her along, Apparating from the house before another question could leave her lips.

"Not a sound," Snape warned. The next second, another wizard appeared a few yards away and he and Snape quickly drew their wands at each other. Sharlen raised her hands defensively as well, though she didn't know why. Recognizing one another, both men lowered their wands and set off in the same direction, past manicured shrubs along an ornate iron gate.

"News?" the man asked.

"The best," Snape replied, barely more than a murmur.

Neither man faltered or stopped—they raised their left arms almost in a sort of salute and walked through the gate as if it were smoke. Knowing she was meant to follow, Sharlen began to climb the gates as quietly as she was able. Her head swam, disarmed by not being able to see her own hands climbing up one after the other. She fought to let the mechanical, physical movement rule her until she reached the top and jumped. Upon landing, catlike, she jogged to catch up with them. They were at Malfoy Manor.

The two wizards advanced up the front steps toward the glittering light from the first-floor, diamond-cut windows and through the door, which opened for them. Sharlen hurried behind them so as not to get locked out, the dim light of the hallway easy to adjust to from the darkness outside.

Snape turned the brushed silver handle of the heavy wooden door at the end of the hall into a drawing room full of people sitting at a long, ornate table. Sharlen understood then why she had been made invisible—her father was not yet ready to reveal her to his Death Eaters. Above the table, apparently unconscious, slowly rotated a human hanging upside down. Sharlen put a hand over her mouth, recognizing her as the Hogwarts Muggle Studies teacher. Beneath her, near the middle of one side of the table between Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, was Draco.

"Yaxley, Snape," came her father's voice from the head of the table. His cold, red eyes remained on Snape. "You are very nearly late." He directed them where to sit—Snape at his immediate right.

Snape raised his wand and pointed it over his shoulder to slam the door behind him, his aura so black it was almost imperceivable in the darkness of the room. Sharlen slid inside quickly, just making it in before the door shut on her arm. She stayed very still and barely dared to breathe, almost positive Snape had intended for her to be locked outside, waiting. She moved along the wall behind him as he sat beside Voldemort. There was a faint ringing in the room that she tried to shake off, chalking it up to her nerves. She stayed pressed against the wall, reminding herself of Merope trying to disappear through the wall when Bob Ogden visited the Gaunt house.

Voldemort asked Snape for his news and Snape told him Harry Potter was to be moved from his current place of safety the next Saturday. Sharlen's eyes widened in horror—the Auror office knew nothing about Harry's movements, and Moody had told her his safety was in the hands of the Order. Yaxley protested with alternative news from Dawlish, which Snape immediately waved off as a false trail. "No doubt a Confundus Charm has been placed upon Dawlish. It would not be the first time; he is known to be susceptible."

"I assure you, my Lord, Dawlish seemed quite certain," Yaxley told Voldemort, clearly desperate for approval.

"If he has been Confunded, naturally he is certain," said Snape, his face completely blank. If the matter hadn't been about killing Harry, Sharlen might have had difficulty hiding a laugh.

Voldemort silenced Yaxley and asked about where Harry would be kept next, and Snape had no definitive answer. Conversation turned to whether or not they would have taken the Ministry by the time Harry was moved. Sharlen's eyes narrowed, straining to hear every syllable, when Yaxley revealed that Pius Thicknesse was Imperiused. Sharlen saw him every single day at the Ministry. The goal was to kill the Minister. She was suddenly exceptionally glad her father hadn't decided to reveal her to the Death Eaters yet, as any threat on the Minister's life would have to go through her.

Her father was in the middle of a monologue about what mistakes he'd made where Harry Potter was concerned and how he knew now what he had to do to destroy him. A sudden wail, a drawn-out cry of pain, cut through the room, shocking a small gasp out of Sharlen; she realized, as Voldemort sent Wormtail to deal with the apparent prisoner, that every muscle in her body was tensed. The adrenaline the scream had brought her had her feeling like she was going to collapse with exhaustion.

"As I was saying," Voldemort continued, "I understand better now. I shall need, for instance, to borrow a wand from one of you before I go to kill Potter."

A shuddered hush fell around the table, most with anticipation and mild dread. Sharlen saw quite a lot of yellow in the auras of the people sitting at the table, specifically in the Malfoy family. Draco seemed unable to look away from the floating professor above, Narcissa stared straight forward at the opposite wall a few feet from where Sharlen stood, and Lucius appeared as though he would have liked nothing more than to dissolve through the floor, never to be seen again.

"Lucius," Voldemort hissed. "I require your wand."

"My-my Lord?" Lucius stuttered in barely more than a whisper. Sharlen marveled at how far the Malfoy family had fallen. Azkaban had clearly not been kind to Lucius, whose face sunken in, his skin graying and long, white hair thin and lank. The lemon-yellow fear Draco exuded made her glad she had asked her father to spare him. Recalling all their turbulent interactions the past year, she felt nothing but sick pity for him.

"You wand," Voldemort said coldly. "Give it to me."

Reluctantly, Lucius took his wand from his robes and handed it to his master. For a split second, he made an involuntary movement as though he were about to receive Voldemort's wand, and it did not go unnoticed.

"My wand? You want my wand, Lucius?" The amusement in his voice was murderous. "Have I not honored you enough by giving you your liberty? But it has not gone unnoticed that the Malfoys are less than happy with their lot. It seems my presence in their home... troubles them."

"My Lord, it is our highest honor to have you staying with us," Bellatrix breathed, leaning close to him over the table. Her desire to be near her father had always disgusted Sharlen more than it maybe should have.

"Highest honor?" Voldemort asked, considering her openly. "That is a true compliment coming from you, Bellatrix."

Her face flooded with color and, all around her, her aura burst with undying affection. Sharlen was glad to be invisible—she couldn't have hid the confused revulsion on her face if her life depended on it.

"But what of the esteemed news in your family this week? Congratulations are in order," Voldemort continued, considering Lucius's wand's length compared to his own. "Your niece has married the werewolf Remus Lupin."

Jeers erupted around the table and the color on Bellatrix's face became splotchy, her pouty mouth in a deep scowl; Narcissa averted her eyes down the table. "Narissa and I have nothing to do with her, she is no niece of ours!"

"All our pureblood lines have become a little rotten over time," Voldemort mused quietly. "As with all family trees, you need to prune yours to keep it healthy, do you not?"

Renewed, Bellatrix's eyes widened with delight. "At the first opportunity, my Lord!"

While Sharlen was still trying to trace Tonks back into the Black family line, her father called his snake Nagini to him in Parseltongue. Sharlen froze—she hadn't thought of how the snake would be able to smell her. Mercifully, as Nagini rose up the back of his chair and over his shoulder, neck as thick as a man's thigh, she remained silent. Her father had taught Nagini that they were sisters, so she was familiar with Sharlen's scent. He spoke of the detriment to all wizarding kind that we began mating with Muggles and werewolves, taunting Draco about watching the "pups," and stirred the professor above them with Lucius's wand.

Voldemort confirmed her identity as Charity Burbage, the Muggle Studies teacher at Hogwarts. Snape's aura darkened further, if that was even possible, as he was told to look up at her. She cried out to him, tears leaking down into her long, blonde hair. Draco no longer seemed able to look at her now that she was awake.

Then Voldemort killed her and she came crashing down onto the great table, several Death Eaters still as statues, strong in their will not to flinch before their Lord. Sharlen let out a pant of disgust as her father set the snake on the body and Nagini slithered forward to consume her. He allowed the meeting to adjourn and Sharlen hurried carefully through the bodies that stood to make it out the door first.

Sharlen rushed to the couch in the entry hall to sit as if she'd been outside waiting. Once all the Death Eaters had left the mansion, the Malfoys, Snape, and Bellatrix followed her father from the room, leaving Nagini to her dinner. Snape raised his wand to the ceiling with a flick of his wrist and Sharlen reappeared, peering expectantly at her Master, her father, Bellatrix, and the Malfoys as they stood still in the foyer.

"How patiently you've waited, my daughter," Voldemort said with a hideous grin, walking up to her. She stood to greet him. Draco looked as if he might faint at the sight of her. She lent him her blankest stare. "Hopefully we did not leave you waiting very long."

"It's no matter, father," she told him, gloved hands tense by her side. She had to find Lupin immediately. "I understand you have important work to do."

He nodded, pleased with her, and turned back to the Malfoys. "It's been a while, I think, since you've seen each other. Save for Draco."

Sharlen nodded a greeting to the Malfoys, who bowed to her, the ringing beginning to irritate her senses. She wished they wouldn't. Bellatrix came before her on her knees and took her hands to kiss them. "It is an honor, as always, to see you, my Princess."

"Oh Bellatrix, please stand," she muttered disgustedly. She did so with a deep bow, stepping back to her sister's side.

"Master said you wanted to see me," she told her father, waiting.

"I will be abroad and unable to visit you for a while," he told her, both hands on her shoulders. They were strong and skeletal. "You will be permitted to visit this place in my absence should you need anything. Bellatrix will get you whatever you need if Severus is busy."

"I'm okay on my own," Sharlen told him quietly. She hated looking into his eyes for so long—it really tested her mastery over her own body. "But thank you for letting me stretch my legs."

Voldemort seemed content with her gratitude. "Sooner than you think, we will have the Ministry at our control and Harry Potter will be a long-forgotten nuisance. Then you will be able to live in the open. When he is dead, you can finally live as you were intended."

Sharlen nodded and lowered her gaze to the floor.

When she and Snape arrived back at the Oxford house that night, he retired immediately, gathering a few books with him. Sharlen made a beeline for her potion, knowing it needed stirring and adding the last three ingredients. She also had to restore the sunlight every day or so to keep its power consistent. When she was finished, she gathered her tarot deck and shuffled it feverishly, sitting cross-legged on the bed.

Do they know the true date, do they know the true date, Sharlen thought as she shuffled again and again. She finally laid out the Dialectic and the first card, the Thesis, showed the King of Swords; the second card, the Antithesis, the Death card; and the third card, Synthesis, was the Hermit. She frowned, barely breathing, as her eyes raked over the cards before her. Were the cards patronizing her? How could introspection be the solution...?

Sharlen held up the card, pouring over the picture, thinking hard. She considered trying a different spread, but ultimately the conclusion she came to was that this had been the wrong question to ask—whether or not Harry was to move this Saturday, she had heard from the Death Eaters that they had two dates in mind and that's what their plan of attack hinged on. She had to find Lupin and tell him that no matter what their plan, they had to deviate from either of those dates.

Sharlen put her tarot cards back into their box and switched them for the gold coin within her black pouch, hesitating as she held it lightly in her fingers. Once she'd settled on a place, she returned the coin to her purse and Disapparated from the house.

She waited on one of the bridges in London that she had walked over the day of Dumbledore's funeral, unable to sit, unable to pace, and waited for Lupin to appear. She didn't have to wait more than ten minutes before he appeared shabby and pale before her, rushing forward.

Sharlen was startled to see he had his wand pointed at her face and doubled back, recoiling from it, her hands up to shield herself. "Lupin, no—"

"When you came to me the night of Slughorn's party, what were you upset about?" he asked her firmly, face set in a stern stare.

Sharlen seemed to understand and lowered her hands. "I was worried my ghost might mean Harry harm. That I was bad for him."

"Now me," he insisted. Sharlen looked at him with pained annoyance.

"Remus, there is no time for this, I have to tell—"

"I insist you check that I am who I say I am," he said firmly.

Sharlen crossed her arms before her and thought for a moment. "What's my Patronus?"

Lupin turned up one corner of his mouth almost wolfishly and glanced away as if he felt intrusive. "A stag."

Sharlen nodded. "I figured Tonks would have told you, yes."

Lupin sighed and put his wand away, satisfied at last. "You just can't be too sure anymore," he said. "You have news?"

"The Death Eaters think they know when you're moving Harry from the Dursleys'," she rushed out, grabbing onto his cloak. Lupin paled but his jaw remained set. "They met about it tonight."

"We've laid a false trail in the Auror office," Lupin explained, taking her hand and gently removing her grip on him in a way he hoped was reassuring. "It's okay. The plan is rock solid."

"Yaxley got the false trail from Dawlish, but Snape knew all about it. He and my father discussed another source who told Snape it was going to be this Saturday. Don't tell me if it is or not!" Sharlen added hurriedly, but his panicked yellow aura jumping to life was tell-tale enough. "Damn you Remus for being so bloody reactive, I can read you like a book."

"Well do teach me sometime how to alter my own aura, will you?" he said irritably, running a hand through his hair.

"I was going to say it doesn't matter which date they think is right—you have to change it regardless. Do it spur of the moment or something, only tell the essential people. Someone snitched. How else would Snape know?"

"I'm more interested in who would have betrayed us…" Lupin said wearily with a great sigh. He was thinking hard. "It's too late to change the plan," he said. "I couldn't convince Mad-Eye to change it without telling him where you got this information."

"Well then let's tell him who I am and what I'm doing and have him lock me up, at least Harry will be safe!" she shouted.

Lupin shook his head. "You're thinking irrationally, that's not what espionage is about! Turning yourself in at the first difficult turn? You have to be more steadfast, Sharlen. There has to be another way."

"I insist you change the date," she said stubbornly.

He watched her carefully. "For what it's worth, Snape is wrong."

Sharlen brightened up slightly. "Two false trails?"

Lupin's aura was betraying him; he was still worried. "I am confident no one but the Order knows when Harry is being moved."

"Remus, please," Sharlen said, "It's like we've discussed, I don't want to know anything that could hurt any of you, but just consider what I've told you. If something needs to change, you need to effect that change in any way you can. I told you the two dates the Death Eaters think it will happen, and if it is either of those you shouldn't tell me, you should just change it. For Harry's safety and the safety of whoever else is helping him." Lupin stayed silent. "Think of how it will destroy Harry if any of you died for him."

"I understand, and I thank you for telling me this," he said lightly. "Did you hear anything else at this meeting?"

"My father thinks he has to use a different wand than his own to kill Harry," she muttered, "I have no idea what that's about. Yaxley said he had successfully Imperiused Pius Thicknesse, I have to try and break that tomorrow morning. I'm hoping I can lead Moody to realizing it… They're hoping to make an attempt on Scrimgeour's life, soon. They didn't go into detail, but it seems Yaxley is heading Ministry takeover operations. And Professor Charity Burbage was murdered."

Lupin shook his head, his shoulders falling. "Is there a chance of recovering the body?"

Sharlen shook her head with a wince. "No."

Lupin was quiet for a minute or two, looking out at the water. The nighttime sky wasn't as dark as it usually was from the streets of the city. Sharlen reached for his shoulder tentatively. "Congratulations on your marriage. I know you make Tonks very happy."

He reached up to rub his neck with a smile. "Thank you. I will try to continue to do so."

Her day post-training began with a press conference. Standing behind Rufus Scrimgeour alongside Kingsley, he addressed witches and wizards armed with quills and parchment, cameras with giant flashes, and anxious expressions. He stood firmly before them, sentry, looking like a great, grizzled lion peering out over his domain.

She listened to him with her hood up over her face, looking at the ground to be sure the cameras wouldn't get a shot of her. "These are dark times, there is no denying," Scrimgeour growled quietly, his voice growing firmer with each sentence. "Our world has perhaps faced no greater threat than it does today. But I say this to our citizenry: We, ever your servants, will continue to defend your liberty and repel the forces that seek to take it from you! Your Ministry remains, strong."

Sharlen flinched in the flashes of the cameras, turning her face a little further away. She knew Kingsley was suspicious of it, so as they led the Minister away down toward the courtrooms for his next appearance, she told him, "I don't want Snape to know where I am. I want to find him, not the other way around."

Kingsley nodded in a way that told her he felt the same way.

"Down," Scrimgeour called across the court room, motioning her over with a jerk of his head. Sharlen snapped her fingers to tighten the chains on the accused, Gibbon, and hurried over to where he sat beside the underwriter.

"Yes, Minister?"

"I need you and Kingsley with me today to brief the Muggle Prime Minister on the latest ordinances," he growled, peering up at her. He really did remind her of a lion, regal but fierce and lacking an excess of patience. Still, she liked him—maybe it was because of her age and stature, but he was rather grandfatherly to her. He treated her differently than he did the other Aurors, and she constantly had to remind him that she was there to protect him, not the other way around. "Then I have a meeting with the Wizenagamot. We're just about ready to release the contents of Dumbledore's will."

"Release them, sir?" she asked, fallen back slightly. "The Ministry was inspecting them?"

"Several bequests of curious nature, yes," he rumbled, sitting back in his chair. Kingsley stood below, listening. "Especially considering their beneficiaries."

Percy Weasley, who was regrettably at the Minister's shoulder almost constantly when they were inside the Ministry, added, "You can never be too sure with Dumbledore."

"I see. Well, of course I go where you go," she said quietly, glancing at Percy. "The usual transport to the Prime Minister?" They had gone to speak with him twice since she joined Kingsley as part of the Minister's guard—he was the first and only Muggle she'd ever been introduced to.

"We've had to move him," Scrimgeour said, lips in a thin line. "For his own safety. We'll be Apparating to his safe house."

"Yes, Minister," she said. He smiled gruffly and held out his hand for her to take. Sharlen removed her left glove hesitantly, Percy frowning disapprovingly.

Every day since she had started working with Kingsley and Scrimgeour, he had insisted she have a vision at least once a day just for the chance of foreseeing any surprise attacks from Voldemort's side that they might come up against. She'd explained to him that the visions couldn't be steered—even if she saw something there was no guarantee which day in the future it was, but he was still insistent. She took his rough, calloused hand in hers and he wrapped his fingers around, engulfing her; Sharlen's eyes grew white as her pupils shrank and she saw a much-younger Scrimgeour in a longer, navy pinstriped trench coat, in a courtroom very similar to the one they were in. This may have been twenty years ago, and he was testifying against a sobbing man with long, dark hair. Dementors were entering the courtroom.

She recoiled her hand and shook her head as the vision faded. "It was the past," she told the Minister. She saw Kingsley look at the ground and knew he had been interested in this daily practice as well. "Maybe twenty years ago. When the first war was starting."

Scrimgeour turned the corner of his mouth up slightly with a quick, amused grunt. "I used to be quite handsome, don't you think?"

Sharlen was embarrassed by these types of questions and found herself looking away. "You look just the same, Minister."

"Of course you do, Minister!" Percy added.

Scrimgeour laughed and turned to leave the courtroom, beckoning her and Kingsley behind him. Sharlen hurried to keep up with the men's strides. Kingsley raised an eyebrow at her, amused. "Looks just the same, huh?"

"It's true!" she whispered, agitated. "How are you even supposed to respond to that?" Kingsley laughed and shook his head. It was no secret now amongst the Aurors that Sharlen lacked social graces and instincts.

The three went up to the foyer in one of the lifts, and on the second floor, Pius Thicknesse joined them. He greeted the Minister and Kingsley with a polite nod to Sharlen, who was glaring at him. His aura was a misted fog, which she assumed was a sign of him being Imperiused. Before the lift could close, Sharlen threw out her hand to catch the gates.

"We've forgotten," she said suddenly. All three men looked at her suspiciously. "Minister, Kingsley, we've forgotten something."

"Down, we have an appointment with the Muggle Prime-" Scrimgeour began, but she was insistent.

"It's my job to protect you, Minister. This is important," she said firmly, a blazing look on her face.

The men agreed reluctantly to follow her out of the lift, back onto the second floor. Thicknesse's usual pleasant expression had darkened slightly as the lift disappeared beneath the floor. Sharlen hurried them to the Auror office.

"What is the meaning of this?" Scrimgeour demanded as she hurried them forward. She ripped open the doors and Moody looked up from his desk—he was speaking with Tonks beneath their hands, but stood when he saw the three hurrying forward.

"Moody," Sharlen rushed out, "Pius Thicknesse. He's been Imperiused."

The four around her looked shocked. "He's the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, how could that have happened?" Scrimgeour asked in quiet, forceful tones.

"I'm not sure."

"How do you know?" Moody growled, leaning toward her over his desk.

"We just saw him in the lift," Sharlen said, "His aura was just mist. Like a raincloud around him. I've never seen that before."

"Are sure it's not just a color you've never seen?" Kingsley asked, brow furrowed.

Sharlen shook her head. "I see white and black auras all the time, even patches of gray, those are just as common as other colors. This is a lack of color, it's a fog. If he's been Imperiused it's imperative we keep him away from you, Minister."

Scrimgeour was looking at her as if he was seeing her for the first time. "I want surveillance on Thicknesse," he told the others, who nodded. "Down, if you're able to see if people are Imperiused, that is a huge advantage to our cause."

Sharlen looked down to the desk, thinking. "I didn't even know I could until we saw him just now," she said. "I guess that clears up a few instances where I suspected it before… but it makes sense. When someone's Imperiused, they're just in this really pleasant trance, yes? They're not feeling anything of their own accord, so their own aura is clouded over."

"You ask that as if you don't know how it feels. Didn't you go through that part of training already?" Kingsley inquired.

"Didn't work on her," Moody said simply. "She's highly skilled in Occlumency. Couldn't get her under." Tonks clapped Sharlen on the shoulder.

Scrimgeour put a hand on her other shoulder and instructed Tonks to follow Thicknesse before he set off with Kingsley and Sharlen once more. Moody winked at her as she exited the Auror office and she breathed a sigh of relief. She couldn't believe her luck—ever since the meeting she overheard the night before, she had been wracking her brains to try and find out how she would get Moody to realize Thicknesse was Imperiused without giving herself away. She inwardly thanked Merope for her clairvoyant gifts.

As the three of them entered the foyer and prepared to leave, Sharlen found herself scanning those who walked past as if expecting half the Ministry to be Imperiused. She didn't see any others surrounded by fog the way Thicknesse was and Kingsley and Scrimgeour were muttering harshly to each other ahead of her. Near the fountain of the brethren, the three Apparated to the Prime Minister's safe house.

They arrived at a cottage just outside Little Hangleton, and Sharlen wrapped her arms around herself. "Minister, why here of all places?"

"It's secluded and largely abandoned," he responded, striding toward the cottage purposefully. "Very few Muggles remain in this area and even less wizards do."

"Sir, this is where Voldemort's mother and father were from," she protested. "He was resurrected in the town graveyard. This is where the Portkey at the Triwizard Tournament brought Harry. We can't be sure he and his followers don't have operations here."

"The Dark Lord is finished with this place, he got what he needed from it," Scrimgeour growled, knocking on the door. "What's more, every protection has been put on this place. Only those who know about it can find it."

"Which means Pius Thicknesse, the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, would know about it," she said quietly. Scrimgeour and Kingsley looked down at her, then to each other. Kingsley walked forward before the Minister and broke down the door with his wand.

"Search it," Scrimgeour ordered quietly, wand out. Kingsley lead the way inside, Sharlen in the back covering Scrimgeour. She closed the door behind her with a careful turn of her left hand, arms up and at the ready. Kingsley went into the kitchen and called them over.

"Dead," he said as the three entered to find the Muggle Prime Minister spread-eagle on the floor, eyes wide open and completely vacant. Scrimgeour swore loudly and Sharlen hurried out of the room and up the stairs. There were two doors partially closed in the hallway and one wide open at the end. She strained her ears listening but heard nothing but the two she'd left downstairs.

Swallowing hard, she inched against the wall toward the first door and gently eased it open. A bathroom. She continued down the hall to the second door and found a spare bedroom. She waited, glancing around, and noticed a second too late that a wand tip was peeking out of the closet door.

A jet of red light made its way to her, blasting the door fully open and knocking Sharlen to the ground. A tall blond man, a ponytail at the nape of his neck, surged forward with another spell and Sharlen threw her hands out, flat on her back, to repel him. The two curses collided, blasting the floor out from under them.

The ceiling caved in and Kingsley threw the Minister to the ground, casting a Shield Charm over them to protect from debris. The kitchen table collapsed beneath Sharlen as the man she recognized as Yaxley fell on top of her. Dust and wood obscured her vision as she wrestled with him, trying to take his wand. He was much stronger than her, forcing her wrists to the ground. The breath knocked out of her, Sharlen coughed as she struggled for breath, inhaling dust instead.

She heard Kingsley and Scrimgeour in the chaos, occupied with two others. Fulguro! she thought angrily, and Yaxley recoiled, yelling from the shock. She rolled off her back and saw Scrimgeour look her way as if contemplating assisting her rather than focusing on his assailant, who was aiming to take advantage of his distraction. "Get down!" she choked out, struggling to stand. Yaxley was back on his feet and Apparated from the house, swearing loudly. Sharlen reached out toward the Death Eater the Minister was dueling, Stunning him.

Kingsley had apprehended his charge and moved to secure the third Sharlen had Stunned. "They were aiming to kill, Sharlen!" Kingsley shouted, rounding on her. "You were too easy on them!"

"Yaxley got away from me," she admitted, struggling not to cough. She held out his wand to Kingsley, one hand on her lower back. "Yes, Yaxley, I'm sure," she responded to Scrimgeour's surprised frown. "I chose to Stun because we may be able to get information out of them. They may know who else in the Ministry is a Death Eater. Surely Yaxley isn't the only one."

Kingsley nodded, looking away. "You're right. You are. I just can't believe the Prime Minister is dead." She could see it wounded him to know this failure; he had often been stationed with him before being reassigned to Scrimgeour.

"It's not your fault," Sharlen told him softly, one hand on his arm. She turned to Scrimgeour, a hard look on her face. "You can't be concerned with my safety. I'm here to protect you, not the other way around. You can't hesitate like that again. If I die, I die."

Scrimgeour nodded, and she saw his respect for her coloring his aura all around him. "We need to get cleanup out here immediately. The Wizenagamot will have to wait, we must tell the Muggle's second-in-command. Come."

Sharlen and Kingsley escorted the Death Eaters, Rowle and Goyle, back to the Ministry with Scrimgeour, who then left with Kingsley to speak to the Muggles about what had happened. He instructed Sharlen to spend the rest of the day in the Ministry, inspecting each department for anyone Imperiused. Whenever she saw the fog, she would ask them to follow her and bring them to the Auror office. By the time she made her weary way home to the Oxford house, she had turned over 25 Imperiused people to the Aurors for containment, 15 of which had put up a struggle. Tonks had been unable to collect Pius Thicknesse.